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-The Project Gutenberg EBook of Fanny's First Novel, by Frank Frankfort Moore
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
-other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
-the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
-www.gutenberg.org.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
-to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
-
-
-
-Title: Fanny's First Novel
-
-Author: Frank Frankfort Moore
-
-Release Date: May 1, 2016 [EBook #51922]
-Last Updated: March 13, 2018
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FANNY'S FIRST NOVEL ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by David Widger from page images generously
-provided by the Internet Archive
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-FANNY'S FIRST NOVEL
-
-By Frank Frankfort Moore.
-
-Author of “The Jessamy Bride,” “A Nest of Linnets,” “I Forbid the
-'Banns,” Etc.
-
-London: Hutchinson & Co. Paternoster Row, E. C.
-
-1913
-
-
-[Illustration: 0001]
-
-
-[Illustration: 0009]
-
-
-
-
-
-FANNY'S FIRST NOVEL
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER I
-
-|INDEED, I am not quite assured in my mind that the influence of Mr.
-Garrick upon such a family as ours is healthy,” said Mrs. Burney, when
-the breakfast cups had been removed and the maid had left the room
-in the little house in St. Martin's Street, off Leicester Fields. Dr.
-Burney, the music-master, had not to hurry away this day: his first
-lesson did not begin until noon; it was to be given at the mansion of
-Mr. Thrale, the brewer, at Streatham, and the carriage was not to
-call for him for another hour. He was glancing at the _Advertiser_ in
-unaccustomed indolence, but when his wife had spoken he glanced up from
-the paper and an expression of amused surprise was upon his face. His
-daughter Fanny glanced up from the work-basket which her mother had
-placed ready for her the moment that the breakfast-table had been
-cleared, and the expression upon little Miss Burney's face was one that
-had something of fright in it. She was too short-sighted to see the wink
-which her brother James, lieutenant in His Majesty's navy, gave her, for
-their stepmother had her back turned to him. But Mrs. Burney, without
-seeing him, knew that, as he himself would phrase it, he had tipped
-Fanny a wink. She turned quickly round upon him, and if she had
-previously any doubt on this point, it was at once dispelled by the
-solemnity of his face.
-
-Dr. Burney gave a laugh.
-
-“The influence of Mr. Garrick is like that of the air we breathe,” said
-he. “It is not to be resisted by the age we live in, leaving family
-matters out of the question altogether: the Burney family must inhale
-as much of the spirit of Mr. Garrick as the rest of the town-they cannot
-help themselves, _ces pauvres Burneys!_ they cannot live without Mr.
-Garrick.”
-
-Mrs. Burney shook her head solemnly; so did Lieutenant James Burney, for
-he had all his life been under the influence of Mr. Garrick, when the
-atmosphere brought by Mr. Garrick was one of comedy.
-
-“My meaning is that Mr. Garrick is not content to allow simple people
-such as ourselves to live as simple people,” said Mrs. Burney. “I
-protest that I have felt it: the moment he enters our house we seem to
-be in a new world-whatsoever world it is his whim to carry us to.”
-
-“That is the truth, my dear-he can do what he pleases with us and with
-all the thousands who have flocked to his playhouse since his Goodman's
-Fields days--he has made a fortune as a courier; transporting people
-to another world for an hour or two every night--a world that is less
-humdrum than this in which four beats go to every bar and every crotchet
-goes to a beat! Dear soul! he has made our hearts beat at times beyond
-all computation of time and space.”
-
-“You will herring-bone the edges neatly, Fanny: I noticed some lack of
-neatness in the last of the napery that left your hand, my dear,” said
-Mrs. Burney, bending over her stepdaughter at her work-basket; and,
-indeed, it seemed that the caution was not unnecessary, for Fanny's eyes
-were gleaming and she was handling her work with as great indifference
-(for the moment) as though she esteemed plain sewing something of
-drudgery rather than a delight. And now, having administered her timely
-caution, the good lady turned to her husband, saying:
-
-“To my mind what you have claimed for Mr. Garrick but adds emphasis to
-my contention that his visits have a disturbing influence upon a homely
-family, taking them out of themselves, so to speak, and transporting
-them far beyond the useful work of their daily life. I have noticed with
-pain for some time past that Fanny's heart has not been in her work:
-her cross-stitch has been wellnigh slovenly, and her herring-boning has
-really been indifferent--I say it with sorrow; but dear Fanny is too
-good a girl to take offence at my strictures, which she knows are honest
-and meant for her good.”
-
-“Madam,” said Lieutenant Burney, “I pray you to give me leave to bear
-you out; but at the same time to make excuses for Fan. I must do so in
-justice to her, for the blame rests with me so far as the herring-boning
-is concerned. I confess, with tears in my eyes, that 'twas I who
-provided her with the last models for her herring-boning; and 'twas
-surely some demon in my breast that prompted me to substitute the
-skeleton of one of the South Sea fishes which I hooked when becalmed
-with Captain Cook within sight of Otaheite, for the true herring whose
-backbone is a model of regularity to be followed by all workers with the
-needle, when deprived of the flesh, which is the staple fare of hundreds
-of honest families and, while nourishing them amply, prevents their
-thoughts from carrying them beyond the region pervaded by the smell of
-their cooking.”
-
-“That were a wide enough area upon occasions for the most ambitious of
-thinkers,” said Dr. Burney, controlling his features, seeing that his
-wife took the ward-room humour of his son with dreadful seriousness.
-He made a sign to James to go no further--but James had gone round the
-world once, and he was not to be checked in a humbler excursion.
-
-“Yes, madam, 'tis my duty to confess that Fanny's model was the
-flying-fish, and not the simple Channel herring, hence the failure to
-achieve the beautiful regularity of design which exists in the backbone
-of the latter from the figurehead to the stern, larboard sloping in one
-direction and starboard in the other. If anyone be culpable 'tis myself,
-not Fanny; but I throw myself on your mercy, and only implore that the
-herring-boning of my sister will not result in a whaling for me.”
-
-Mrs. Burney looked seriously from her brother to Fanny, and getting no
-cue from either, began:
-
-“'Tis indeed honourable for you to endeavour by your confession to
-excuse the fault of your sister, James-----”
-
-“The traditions of the service, madam----” began the lieutenant, laying
-his hand on his heart; but he got no further, for Fanny could restrain
-herself no longer; she burst into a laugh and dropped her work, and her
-father rose, holding up his hand.
-
-“The jest has gone far enough, James,” he said. “We sleep in beds in
-this house and do not swing in hammocks. Keep your deep-sea jests until
-you are out of soundings, if it please you.”
-
-“I ask your pardon, sir,” said James; “but i' faith there's many a
-true word said in jest; and it seems to me that there's a moral in the
-parable of the young woman who took the flying-fish of the South Seas
-for her model rather than the herring of the three-fathom coast-line of
-the Channel; and that moral touches close upon the complaint made by our
-good mother against Mr. Garrick.”
-
-“Let it be so,” said Mrs. Burney, who was a clever enough woman to
-perceive that it would be unwise to make a grievance of the impudence
-of a young naval gentleman. “Let it be so; let it be that we are
-simple, homely, wholesome herrings, we are none the better for such a
-flying-fish as Mr. Garrick coming among us, giving us, it may be, the
-notion that our poor fins are wings, and so urging us to make fools of
-ourselves by emulating the eagle. The moral of your fable is that we
-should keep to our own element--is not that so, sir?”
-
-“I' faith, madam, I am not sure but that 'tis so, and I haul down my
-colours to you, and feel no dishonour in the act,” cried James. “Lord,
-where should we all be to-day if it were not for the good women who
-hold fast to the old traditions of the distaff and needle? They are the
-women who do more for the happiness of men than all who pass their time
-dipping quills in ink-horns or daubing paint upon good canvas that might
-with luck be hung from a stunsail boom and add another knot to the log
-of a frigate of seventy-two! Is there anyone who dines at the table of
-Sir Joshua Reynolds round the corner that does not wish with all his
-heart that his sister would sell her palette and buy a wine-glass or two
-with the proceeds? Why, when we went to dinner at Sir Joshua's yesterday
-there were not enough glasses to go round the table.”
-
-“There never are--that is well known,” said Mrs. Burney.
-
-“Nay, nay; let us take to ourselves the reproof of Dr. Johnson to Mr.
-Boswell when he complained, loud enough almost for Sir Joshua himself to
-hear him, about the scarcity of service. 'Sir,' said Dr. Johnson, 'some
-who have the privilege of sitting at this table, and you are one of
-them, sir, will be wiser if they keep their ears open and their mouths
-shut than they would if they had the means of drinking all that you are
-longing to drink.'”
-
-“Mr. Boswell, in spite of the reproof, contrived to lurch from the table
-with more wine than wisdom 'tween decks,” remarked James.
-
-“He must have found a wine-glass,” said Miss Susy Burney, who had been
-quite silent but quite attentive to every word that had been spoken
-since breakfast-time.
-
-“And so the honour of Mrs. Reynolds's housekeeping is saved,” said Dr.
-Burney.
-
-“Nay, sir, is not Mr. Boswell a Scotsman?” cried the irrepressible
-James.
-
-“That is his lifelong sorrow, since he fancies it to be an insuperable
-barrier between his idol, Dr. Johnson, and himself,” replied his father.
-“But how does his Scotsmanship bear upon the wine-glass question?”
-
-“Ah, sir, without being versed in the subtleties of theology I make bold
-to think that Father Adam did not suffer hunger until knives and forks
-were invented,” said James. “Your drouthy Scot will drink straight from
-the bottle if no beaker be at hand. Oh, why was not Mr. Garrick at Sir
-Joshua's to rouse our spirits by his imitation of Mr. Boswell seeking
-for a wine-glass--and after?”
-
-“Mr. Boswell is too trivial a subject for Davy: I have seen him take off
-Dr. Johnson mixing a bowl of punch until I was like to die of laughter.
-I protest that when he came to the squeezing of the imaginary lemon,
-while he cried out in the Doctor's broadest Lichfield, 'Who's for
-poonch?' I could smell the acid juice,” said Dr. Burney, and he laughed
-at the recollection of Garrick's fooling.
-
-The naval man gave a resounding nautical smack to his thigh.
-
-“That is what 'tis to be a sailor,” he cried. “I have had no chance of
-seeing Mr. Garrick at his best. I should dearly like to hear him take
-off Mr. Boswell when three sheets in the wind. Why was he not with us
-yesterday?”
-
-“Mr. Garrick himself has had a drinking bout on. He has been at the
-Wells for the past fortnight,” said his father.
-
-“_Ecce signum!_” came a doleful voice from the door, and a little man
-slowly put round the jamb a face bearing such an expression of
-piteous nausea as caused everyone in the room--not even excepting Mrs.
-Burney--to roar with laughter--uncontrollable laughter.
-
-Then the expression on the little man's face changed to one of surprised
-indignation. He crept into the room and looked at every person therein
-with a different expression on his face for each--a variation of his
-original expression of disgust and disappointment mingled with doleful
-reproof. It seemed as if it was not a single person who had entered the
-room, but half a dozen persons--a whole doleful and disappointed family
-coming upon an unsympathetic crew convulsed with hilarity.
-
-And then he shook his head sadly.
-
-“And these are the people who have just heard that I have been taking
-the nauseous waters of Tunbridge Wells for a whole fortnight,” and there
-was a break in his voice. “Oh, Friendship, art thou but a name? Oh,
-Sympathy, art thou but a mask? Is the world of sentiment nothing more
-than a world of shadows? Have all the sweet springs of compassion dried
-up, leaving us nothing but the cataracts of chalybeate to nauseate the
-palate?”
-
-He looked round once more, and putting the tips of his fingers together,
-glanced sadly up to the ceiling, then sighed and turned as if to leave
-the room.
-
-“Nay, sir,” cried Dr. Burney, “I do not believe that the chalybeate
-cataracts still flow: 'tis my firm belief, from the expression of your
-face, that you have swallowed the whole spring--the Wells of Tunbridge
-must have been dried up by you before you left--your face betrays you.
-I vow that so chalybeate an expression could not be attained by lesser
-means.”
-
-“Sir, you do me honour, and you have a larger faith in me than my own
-physician,” said the little man, brightening up somewhat. “Would you
-believe that he had the effrontery to accuse me of shirking the hourly
-pailful that he prescribed for me?”
-
-“He had not seen you as we have, Mr. Garrick,” said Dr. Burney.
-
-“He accused me of spending my days making matches and making mischief
-in the Assembly Rooms and only taking the waters by sips--me, sir, that
-have so vivid a memory of Mr. Pope's immortal lines:
-
-               A little sipping is a dangerous tiling,
-
-               Drink deep or taste not the chalybeate spring!”
-
-“You were traduced, my friend--but tell us of the matches and the
-mischief and we shall be the more firmly convinced of your integrity.”
-
-“Nay, sir; I give you my word that 'twas but the simplest of
-matches--not by any means of the sort that yonder desperado fresh
-from the South Seas applies to the touch-hole of one of his horrible
-ten-pounders when the enemy's frigate has to be sunk--nay, a simple
-little match with no more powder for it to burn than may be found on
-the wig of a gentleman of fifty-two and on the face of a lady of
-forty-five--the one a gay bachelor, t'other a ripe widow--' made for one
-another,' said I; and where was the mischief in that? And if I ventured
-to broach the subject of the appropriateness of the union of the twain,
-and to boast under the inspiring influence of the chalybeate spring that
-I could bring it about, is there anyone that will hint that I was not
-acting out of pure good nature and a desire to make two worthy folk
-happy--as happy as marriage can make any two-----”
-
-“Give us their names, sir, and let us judge on that basis,” said Dr.
-Bumey.
-
-“I have no desire to withhold them, my dear Doctor; for I want you to
-back me up, and I am sure that--oh, Lord! here comes the man himself.
-For the love of heaven, back me up, Doctor, and all will be well.”
-
-“Nay, I will not be dragged by the hair of the head into any of your
-plots, my friend,” cried Burney. “Nay, not I. I have some reputation to
-maintain, good friend Garrick; you must play alone the part of Puck that
-you have chosen for yourself this many a year. Think not that you will
-induce me to study the character under you, and so thus-----”
-
-The manservant threw open the door of the room, announcing:
-
-“Mr. Kendal to wait upon you, sir.”
-
-But by the time a small and rather rotund gentleman had been ushered
-into the room, Mr. Garrick was apparently engaged in an animated
-conversation with Miss Burney on the subject of the table-cover at which
-she was working.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER II
-
-|THE visitor walked with the short strut of the man who at least does
-not underrate his own importance in the world. But he suggested just
-at the moment the man who is extremely nervous lest he may not appear
-perfectly selfpossessed. There was an air of bustle about him as he
-strutted into the room, saying:
-
-“Dr. Burney, I am your servant, sir. I have done myself the honour to
-visit you on a rather important piece of business.”
-
-“Sir, you have conferred honour upon me,” said Dr. Burney.
-
-Then the gentleman seemed to become aware for the first time that there
-were other people in the room; but it was with an air of reluctance that
-he felt called on to greet the others.
-
-“Mrs. Burney, I think,” he said, bowing to that lady, “and her estimable
-family, I doubt not. Have I not had the privilege of meeting Mrs. Burney
-at the house of--of my friend--my esteemed friend, Mrs. Barlowe? And
-this gentleman of the Fleet--ha, to be sure I have heard that there was
-a Lieutenant Burney of the Navy! And--gracious heavens! Mr. Garrick!”
-
-Mr. Garrick had revealed himself from the recesses of Miss Burney's
-work-basket. He, at any rate, was sufficiently self-possessed to pretend
-to be vastly surprised. He raised both his hands, crying:
-
-“Is it possible that this is Mr. Kendal? But surely I left you at the
-Wells no later than--now was it not the night before last? You were the
-cynosure of the Assembly Rooms, sir, if I may make bold to say so. But
-I could not look for you to pay attention to a poor actor when you were
-receiving the attentions of the young, and, may I add without offence,
-the fair? But no, sir; you will not find that I am the one to tell tales
-out of school, though I doubt not you have received the congratulations
-of----”
-
-“There you go, sir, just the same as the rest of them!” cried the
-visitor. “Congratulations! felicitations! smiles of deep meaning
-from the ladies, digs in the ribs with suggestive winks from the
-gentlemen--people whose names I could not recall--whom I'll swear I had
-never spoken to in my life--that is why I left the Wells as hastily as
-if a tipstaff had been after me--that is why I am here this morning,
-after posting every inch of the way, to consult Dr. Burney as to my
-position.”
-
-“I protest, sir, that I do not quite take you,” said Mr. Garrick, with
-the most puzzled expression on his face that ever man wore. “Surely,
-sir, your position as a man of honour is the most enviable one possible
-to imagine! Mrs. Nash----”
-
-“There you blurt out the name, Mr. Garrick, and that is what I had no
-intention of doing, even when laying my case before Dr. Burney, who is
-a man of the world, and whom I trust to advise me what course I should
-pursue.”
-
-“I ask your pardon, sir,” said Mr. Garrick humbly; “but if the course
-you mean to pursue has aught to do with the pursuit of so charming a
-lady, and a widow to boot----”
-
-“How in the name of all that's reasonable did that gossip get about?”
- cried the visitor. “I give you my word that I have not been pursuing the
-lady--I met her at the Wells for the first time a fortnight ago--pursuit
-indeed!”
-
-“Nay, sir, I did not suggest that the pursuit was on your part,” said
-Garrick in a tone of irresistible flattery. “But 'tis well known that as
-an object of pursuit of the fair ones, the name of Mr. Kendal has been
-for ten years past acknowledged without a peer.”
-
-The gentleman held up a deprecating hand, but the smile that was on his
-face more than neutralized his suggestion.
-
-“Nay, Mr. Garrick, I am but a simple country gentleman,” he cried. “To
-be sure, I have been singled out more than once for favours that might
-have turned the head of an ordinary mortal--one of them had a fortune
-and was the toast of the district; another----”
-
-“If you will excuse me, gentlemen, the Miss Burneys and myself will take
-our leave of you: we have household matters in our hands,” said Mrs.
-Burney, making a sign to Fanny and her sister, and going toward the
-door.
-
-“Have I said too much, madam? If so, I pray of you to keep my secret,”
- cried the visitor. “The truth is that I have confidence in the advice of
-Dr. Burney as a man of the world.”
-
-“I fear that to be a man of the world is to be of the flesh and the
-devil as well,” said Dr. Burney.
-
-“Augmented qualifications for giving advice on an affair of the Wells,”
- said Garrick slyly to the naval lieutenant.
-
-“You will not forget, Doctor, that Mr. Thrale's carriage is appointed to
-call for you within the hour,” said Mrs. Burney over her shoulder as she
-left the room.
-
-Fanny and her sister were able to restrain themselves for the few
-minutes necessary to fly up the narrow stairs, but the droll glance that
-Mr. Garrick had given them as they followed their mother, wellnigh made
-them disgrace themselves by bursting out within the hearing of their
-father's visitor. But when they reached the parlour at the head of the
-stairs and had thrown themselves in a paroxysm of laughter on the sofa,
-Mrs. Burney reproved them with some gravity.
-
-“This is an instance, if one were needed, of the unsettling influence of
-Mr. Garrick,” she said. “He has plainly been making a fool of that
-conceited gentleman, and it seems quite likely that he will persuade your
-father to back him up.”
-
-“I do not think that Mr. Garrick could improve greatly upon Nature's
-handiwork in regard to that poor Mr. Kendal,” said Fanny. “But what
-would life be without Mr. Garrick?”
-
-“It would be more real, I trust,” said her stepmother. “He would have
-us believe that life is a comedy, and that human beings are like the
-puppets which Mr. Foote put on his stage for the diversion of the town a
-few years ago.”
-
-Fanny Burney became grave; the longer she was living in the world,
-the more impressed was she becoming with the idea that life was a
-puppet-show; only when the puppets began to dance on their wires in a
-draught of wind from another world the real comedy began. She felt that
-as an interpreter of life Mr. Garrick had no equal on the stage or off.
-On the stage he could do no more than interpret other people's notions
-of life, and these, except in the case of Shakespeare, were, she
-thought, mostly feeble; but when he was off the stage--well, Sir Joshua
-Reynolds had told her what that queer person, Dr. Goldsmith, had written
-about Garrick--the truest criticism Garrick had ever received: “'Twas
-only that when he was off he was acting.” She knew what she herself owed
-to Garrick from the time she was nine years old, when he had accustomed
-her and her sister to look for him at their house almost daily; she knew
-that whatever sense of comedy she possessed--and she looked on it as
-a precious possession--was to be attributed to the visits of Garrick.
-Every time she looked at her carefully locked desk in that room at the
-top of the house in St. Martin's Street, which had once been Sir Isaac
-Newton's observatory, she felt that without the tuition in comedy that
-she had received at the hands of Mr. Garrick, the contents of that
-desk would have been very different. Her stepmother, however, had no
-information on this point; she had lived all her life among the good
-tradespeople of Lynn, and had known nothing of Mr. Garrick until Dr.
-Burney had married her and brought her to look after his children, which
-Fanny knew she had done faithfully, according to her lights, in London.
-
-Fanny kept silent on the subject of Mr. Garrick's fooling, while Mrs.
-Burney bent with great gravity over the cutting out of a pinafore for
-Fanny's little niece--also a Burney; and every now and again there came
-from the closed room downstairs the sound of the insisting voice of the
-visitor. She hoped that Mr. Garrick would re-enact the scene for her;
-she had confidence that it would lose nothing by its being re-enacted by
-Mr. Garrick.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER III
-
-|I SUPPOSE that I must e'en follow in the wake of the womenkind,” said
-Lieutenant Burney, making an extremely slow move in the direction of the
-door, when the door had been closed upon his stepmother and his sisters.
-
-“Is there any need?” asked Garrick. “It seems to me that in such a
-case as this which Mr. Kendal promises to propound to your father, His
-Majesty's Navy should be represented. In all matters bearing upon a
-delicate _affaire de cour_ surely a naval man should be present to act
-as assessor.”
-
-'Mr. Kendal looked puzzled.
-
-“I fail to take your meaning, sir,” said he, after a pause; he was still
-rubbing his chin with a fore-finger, when Garrick cried:
-
-“Oh, sir, surely the advantage of the counsel of an officer trained to
-navigate femininity in the shape of a ship, is apparent: a ship, even
-though a three-decker ready to fire a broadside of a hundred guns, is
-invariably alluded to as 'she,'” said he, airily.
-
-“Such an one must surely be the most formidable piece of femininity in
-the world,” said Mr. Kendal.
-
-“By no means,” said Garrick. “During my career as the manager of a
-playhouse I have had to face worse. Still, the training of a naval
-officer in dealing with feminine craft--at times off a lee shore, and
-often during a storm at sea--nothing to be compared to the tempests in
-our green-room--is certain to be of value. You will stay, Lieutenant
-Burney, if it please you.”
-
-“I should be most unwilling to obtrude upon your council, sir,” said
-young Burney, “unless you are convinced that my humble services----”
-
-“You have been among the savages of the South Seas, and you are
-acquainted with all the rules of chasing and capturing prizes, all
-of the feminine gender--I allude to your sloops and frigates and
-catamarans--I take it for granted that a catamaran is as feminine in its
-ways as any wherry that floats,” cried Garrick. Then he turned to their
-visitor, who was looking more puzzled than ever.
-
-“You may reckon yourself fortunate in the presence of our young friend,
-sir,” he said. “So far as I can gather this is a case of chase, with
-a possible capture of a prize. I venture to think that in these days a
-gentleman of family and fortune, like yourself, is something of a prize,
-Mr. Kendal.” This was language that contained nothing to puzzle anyone,
-the visitor perceived. His face brightened, and he waved young Burney to
-a seat.
-
-“I take it that Mr. Garrick knows what he is talking about,” he said.
-“And though it was truly your father to whom I came for counsel, I
-doubt not that you will take my part, should the worst come to the
-worst.”
-
-“Which means, should the lady come to the gentleman, Mr. Burney,” said
-Garrick.
-
-“Pay out your yarn, sir: I gather that you are still to the windward of
-your enemy, and that is the position which the books tell us we should
-manoeuvre for,” cried the nautical assessor.
-
-Dr. Burney sat silently by, he had no mind to join in the fooling of
-the others. Dr. Burney had never in his life lost a sense of his own
-dignity. He had been a church organist for thirty years, and no man
-who has had such an experience of the control of an instrument of such
-superlative dignity could be otherwise than dignified. He had never
-once run off on a keyboard a single phrase of “The Beggar's Opera.” Even
-Handel's “Ruddier than the Cherry,” with Mr. Gay's ticklish rhymed
-line about “Kidlings blithe and merry,” he only played apologetically,
-allowing it to be clearly understood that Mr. Handel and Mr. Gay divided
-between them the responsibility for so frivolous a measure.
-
-He remained dignified and silent while Garrick and James carried on
-their fooling. Only a short time before he had occasion to reprove the
-lack of dignity on the part of his important patroness, Mrs. Thrale, the
-wife of the wealthy brewer, in having put herself behind Signor Piozzi
-while he was singing a sentimental canzone and mimicked his southern
-fervour of expression. Mrs. Thrale had taken his reproof in good part
-at the time; but no one--least of all Mrs. Thrale herself--could have
-foreseen that her contrition should extend so far as to cause her to
-marry the singer on the death of Mr. Thrale.
-
-“To be brief, sir,” said Mr. Kendal, addressing, not Dr. Burney, whom he
-had come to consult, but Mr. Garrick, who had shown himself to be much
-more sympathetic. “To be brief, I had gone to the Wells as my custom has
-been for the past twenty years. I went honestly to drink the waters, not
-making it an excuse, as so many do, for indulging in the gaieties, or, I
-may add, the intrigues, of the Assembly Rooms. I was civil, as I hoped,
-to everyone, but, I give you my word, no more so to Mrs. Nash than any
-other lady.”
-
-“I do not doubt that you believe this, sir,” said Garrick, with an
-indulgent wave of the hand; “but when a lady has eyes only for one
-gentleman, she is apt to place a construction upon the simplest of
-his civilities beyond that assigned to it by ordinary people; but pray
-proceed, sir. I will only add that it was quite well known at the Wells
-that the lady regarded you with the tenderest of emotions. Had she not
-boldly said to Lady-------- no; I dare not mention her name; but her
-ladyship is invariably what the Italians term _simpatica_ in regard to
-the tender affairs of her sisters--and it was to her that Mrs. Nash
-confided her secret--referring to you as bearing a striking resemblance
-to the Apollo Belvedere, hoping that her doing so would not cause anyone
-to accuse her of Pagan leanings.”
-
-“Is it possible! The poor lady! poor lady! But I was not to blame. I
-can justly acquit myself of all blame in this unhappy affair,” said Mr.
-Kendal.
-
-“You are quite right, sir; is it a man's fault that he should bear a
-striking likeness to the Apollo--I doubt not that the resemblance has
-caused you some annoyance at various times of your life, Mr. Kendal,”
- said Garrick.
-
-“Never, sir, never--at least----” he took a step to one side that
-allowed of his having a full-length view of his reflection in the narrow
-mirror that filled up the space between the windows; and the result of
-his scrutiny of the picture was certainly not displeasing to him. He
-boldly put forward a leg, and then quite unconscious, as anyone could
-see, struck an attitude, though not quite that of the Apollo Belvedere.
-Then he smirked.
-
-“A leg like yours, Mr. Kendal, to say nothing of the poise of your
-head, is a great responsibility,” said Garrick seriously. “The poor
-lady!--poor ladies!--I confess that I have heard of others. And she
-acknowledged to you that--that--oh, that most delicate of secrets!”
-
-“Never to me, sir--never in my hearing, I give you my word,” cried
-the man emphatically. “Nay, I did not so much as suspect it. The
-first intimation that I had of the matter was when, on Monday morning
-last--only three days ago--Captain Kelly--the boisterous Irishman--clapt
-me on the shoulder and almost shouted out his congratulations in my
-ear. When I forced him to mention the name of the lady, he ridiculed my
-denial--his forefinger in my ribs--painful as well as undignified. Who
-is Captain Kelly, that he should subject me to his familiarities? But
-if he was undignified, I flatter myself that I was not so. 'Sir, you
-presume,' I said, and walked on, leaving this vulgar fellow roaring with
-laughter.”
-
-“Psha! Kelly is a nobody,” said Garrick. “You should not have allowed
-yourself to be discomposed by such as he.”
-
-“Nor did I,” cried the other. “But what was I to think when I had
-advanced no more than a dozen paces, and found my hand grasped warmly
-by Sir John Dingle?--you know him, Mr. Garrick--I have seen him in
-your company--more congratulations--the same attitude, sir. And then
-up marches Mr. Sheridan--leaving his handsome wife--ah, I fear that I
-joined with all Bath in being in love with the lovely Miss Linley--and
-Mr. Sheridan was wellnigh affronted at my denial. But that was not all.
-Up comes Mrs. Cholmondeley in her chair and tapped for the men to set
-her down when she saw me--up went the roof and up went her head, with
-a shrill cry of 'Kendal, you rogue! to tell everyone at the Wells save
-only myself that Benedick is to be a married man!' And before she had
-finished her ridicule of my denial, up struts Mrs. Thrale, her footman
-behind her with her spaniel, and down she sinks in a curtsey, fitted
-only for a special night in the Rooms, and her 'Happy man!' came with a
-flick of her fan; and she, too, named Mrs. Nash! And that was not the
-last--I saw them hurrying up to me from all sides--ladies with smiles,
-and gentlemen with smirks--fingers twitching for my ribs--down they
-flowed upon me! I ask you, Lieutenant Burney, as a naval gentleman, and
-I am glad to have the opportunity of hearing your opinion--I ask you, if
-I was not justified in turning about and hastening away--what you
-nautical gentlemen term 'cutting my cable '?”
-
-“Indeed, sir; if I could believe that you gave the lady no
-encouragement, I would say that--that--but no one will convince me that
-upon some occasion--it may be forgotten by you--such men of fashion as
-yourself soon forget these things, I have heard, though the unhappy lady
-treasures them as golden memories--I say upon some occasion you may have
-given the Widow Nash encouragement. You have your reputation as a sly
-rogue to maintain, Mr. Kendal,” said young Burney gravely, as though he
-were a lawyer being seriously consulted.
-
-“Fore Gad, sir, I gave her no encouragement,” cried Mr. Kendal. “I have
-ever been most cautious, I swear.”
-
-“Then the greater shame for you, sir,” said Garrick.
-
-The man whom he addressed looked in amazement first at Garrick, then at
-Lieutenant Burney--Dr. Burney, whom he had come to consult, was smiling
-quite unnoticed in a corner. His part, apparently, was no more than that
-of the looker-on at a comedy. His presence was ignored by the others.
-
-“The more shame--the more----” began the visitor. “I protest that I
-scarcely take your meaning, Mr. Garrick.”
-
-“My meaning is plain, sir,” said Garrick firmly, almost sternly. “I
-affirm that it lay with you, when you perceived that the lady was so
-deeply enamoured of you----”
-
-“But I did not perceive it--you have my word for it.”
-
-“Ah, sir,” said Garrick, with the shrug of a Frenchman, which he had
-studied for some months in Paris--Mr. Garrick and Lord Chesterfield
-had alone mastered the art. “Ah, sir, we are all men of the world here.
-'Twere idle for you to pretend that a gentleman with the figure of the
-Belvedere Apollo and the leg of--of----” he turned to young Burney-- “You
-have seen the proud-stepping figure-heads of many ships of the line, Mr.
-Burney,” he said; “prithee help me out in my search for--for--the name I
-am in search of.”
-
-“H'm, let me see--something wooden with a leg to be proud of?” said the
-naval gentleman, considering the matter very earnestly.
-
-“Zounds, sir, I did not make it a condition that it should be a wooden
-leg,” cried Garrick.
-
-“I have seen more than one Admiral of the Fleet mighty proud of a wooden
-leg, sir,” said Burney. “But this is beside the question, which I
-take to be the responsibility of our good friend here--I hope I don't
-presume, Mr. Kendal--for kindling, albeit unconsciously, so far as he
-was concerned--that sacred flame in the breast of--to name only one out
-of a score--the lady whose name he mentioned.”
-
-“You are with me heart and soul, as I felt sure you would be, Mr.
-Burney; as a naval officer of judgment and experience,” cried Garrick,
-“and so, sir--” he turned to their visitor-- “I cannot doubt that you
-will comport yourself as a gentleman of honour in this affair. Do not
-allow your yielding to the natural impulse to run away to weigh too
-heavily upon you. If your act should cause you to be referred to with
-reprobation, not to say scorn, by the ladies or gentlemen of fashion who
-are certain to espouse the cause of the lady, your subsequent conduct
-will show them that they mistook your character. And I promise you that
-should you receive a challenge from any of the lady's admirers--those
-whose prayers she rejected because her heart was set on a gentleman who
-was worthy of her choice--I think you can afford to ignore them, having
-won the prize. Ah, sir, is there not a poet who says that every man that
-lives has a good angel and a bad one contending for dominion over him?
-That is the truth, Mr. Kendal, and I see that your good angel is none
-other than the lady whose name I reckon too sacred to pass our lips at
-such a time as this. Ah, sir, think of her, and let your mind go back to
-the days of your happy boyhood, and say if the mother at whose knees you
-knelt did not resemble her. The affection of a son for his mother--let
-that plead for the lady who esteems you with more than a mother's love.”
-
-He had laid his hand on the poor gentleman's shoulder, and was looking
-into his face, while the tears stood in his eyes, and his voice broke
-more than once.
-
-And there sat Dr. Burney wiping his eyes, and Lieutenant Burney
-blubbering away like any child--the two accessories to the actor's
-farce could not avoid yielding to the-influence of his unparalleled art.
-Though they were in his secret, he made fools of them as easily as he
-made a fool of the poor gentleman who was presumably his victim. And
-they had no feeling of being ashamed of yielding to his powers. He could
-do anything that he pleased with them. He could do anything he pleased
-with the multitudes before whom he acted. He was the master of their
-emotions for the time being. He played upon their passions as though
-every passion was a puppet and the strings in his own hands.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER IV
-
-|THE scene ended by Mr. Garrick's victim groping through his tears
-for Mr. Garrick's hand. He grasped it emotionally, and though for some
-moments he was too greatly overcome to be able to utter a word, yet at
-last he managed to blurt out with affecting incoherence a few phrases.
-
-“Say no more--say no more, sir,” he muttered. “I have a heart--a
-heart! I give you my word, whether you believe me or not, that I had no
-notion--but you have shown me what 'tis to be a woman. Oh, sir, there
-is no sweeter sex in the world! Deception! how a man's own heart may
-deceive him--ay, up to a certain point--but then--ah, you have taught
-me--but are you sure that the lady--what--have we not been going ahead
-too fast? What--what; are you convinced?”
-
-“You may take my word for it, sir,” replied Garrick. “There are signs
-that all who run may read. What, do you suppose that all those persons
-of quality whose names you mentioned just now as having offered you
-their felicitations--do you suppose that they could all be in error?”
-
-“Of course not--they must have seen--well, more than I saw,” said the
-man. “Matrimony! Lud! if an angel had come down to tell me that I should
-be contemplating such a change of life--and at my time of life too!--I
-should have----”
-
-“What an angel may fail to convince a man of, a woman may succeed in
-doing, Mr. Kendal,” said Garrick sententiously. “But do not talk of your
-time of life as if you were an old or even a middle-aged man, sir. To do
-so were to make Dr. Burney and myself feel patriarchs.”
-
-The mention of Dr. Burney seemed to cause the man to recollect how it
-was he came to be in Dr. Burney's house. He turned to Burney, saying:
-
-“Dear sir, I pray that you will look on my visit with lenient eyes.
-I admit that I came hitherto be advised by you--my friend, Mr. Fulke
-Greville, holds your opinion in the highest esteem, as do I, sir; and it
-was actually on my mind to ask you if you thought it would be wiser for
-me to go abroad for a year or two, or simply to seek some place of
-retirement at home--say, Cornwall or the Hebrides--I gather from the
-account of Dr. Johnson's tour thither that there are many places
-difficult of access in the Hebrides--that was on my mind, Doctor, I
-blush to acknowledge, so greatly overcome was I by what had happened at
-the Wells.”
-
-“Ah, with what great ease a man may slam the door that shuts out
-happiness from his life for evermore!” remarked Garrick.
-
-“Even now--even now I feel timid,” said Mr. Kendal thoughtfully, and,
-when he had found which pocket his handkerchief was in, wiping some dew
-from his brow. “The truth is, Doctor, that I have allowed some people to
-assume that I am but forty-seven years old, while as a matter of fact I
-have been forty-eight for some time.”
-
-“For some years?” asked young Burney, who did not know when he should
-keep silence.
-
-“For some months, sir--only for some months, I give you my word.”
-
-“Your deception in this matter could only have added to your reputation
-for accuracy,” said Garrick coolly. “For I vow that were you to confess
-that you were forty-eight, you would find none to believe you.”
-
-The gentleman's eyes twinkled, he pursed out his lips, and once again
-manoeuvred to get a full-length view of himself in the long mirror.
-He put out his right leg and assumed the attitude of a dancing master
-giving the _pas_ for the _minuet de cour_.
-
-“Well, well,” he cried, “if that be your opinion--and I happen to
-know that 'tis shared by others--it might not be unwise to allow the
-assumption, erroneous though it be, to continue. We will not undeceive
-the good folk. And you do not think that a bachelor of forty-eight--What
-is the name of that play of Mr. Sheridan's that took the town a year
-ago?--ah, _The School for Scandal_--you are sure that our friends will
-not call me--What was the gentleman's name?”
-
-“No one who knows how excellent are your principles will think of you
-either as Charles or Joseph, Mr. Kendal,” said Garrick.
-
-“No, no; but the one who was in my mind was neither of the brothers. I
-was thinking of--was it not Sir Peter Teazle?”
-
-Garrick as well as Burney laughed heartily, for the man at that moment
-suggested by his attitude and expression the Sir Peter Teazle of Kina,
-the actor.
-
-“Make your mind easy on that score, sir,” said Dr. Burney. “It is not
-your purpose to wed so skittish a young person as Lady Teazle. That was
-where Sir Peter showed his folly.”
-
-“No, no; Mrs. Nash is more mature, certainly, than Mrs. Abington looked
-in the part,” said Mr. Kendal confidently, and Lieutenant Burney was
-about to agree with him boisterously, but Garrick did not give him a
-chance.
-
-“There is none that will not commend your choice, Mr. Kendal--ay, sir,
-and look on you with envy as well,” he cried.
-
-“There can be no doubt about it,” said Mr. Kendal doubtfully. “The widow
-Nash is a monstrous fine woman.”
-
-“Monstrous, I doubt not,” put in young Burney, now that he had the
-chance.
-
-“All that I am uneasy about is the interpretation that she may put upon
-your sudden flight,” said Garrick. “You have, you will readily allow,
-sir, placed her in a somewhat difficult position at the Wells. While
-everyone who is anyone has been offering you congratulations upon the
-match, and a double portion to the lady, strange inquiries may be made
-as to your disappearance from the Wells; and she may not be able to give
-a satisfactory explanation at a moment's notice.”
-
-“Egad! I never thought of that, sir,” said Mr. Kendal, after a pause. “I
-fear that I have placed her in a very awkward position.”
-
-“Ay, sir; and the consequences may be that she will be snapped up by
-some adventurous person before you can put your fate to the test,”
- said the naval man, raising a warning finger. “I have heard of ladies
-throwing themselves into the arms of the next comer out of sheer chagrin
-at being disappointed by the man on whom they had set their affections.”
-
-“That is a possibility that should not be neglected,” said Garrick.
-“But it was only on Monday that you fled. By rapid posting you may yet
-prevent such a calamity.”
-
-He was beginning to tire of his game now that he had succeeded so
-well in it and so easily. The fooling of the man who had so completely
-succumbed to his art had no further interest for him. He only wanted to
-get rid of him. He was as capricious and as fickle as a child over the
-toys of its nursery.
-
-“I shall lose no moment, be assured,” said Mr. Kendal. “I may still be
-in time. My hope in this direction is increased when I remember that
-the lady has been a widow for some years--to be exact, without being
-uncomplimentary, nine years. I remember when Mr. Nash died. 'Twas of
-pleurisy.”
-
-“Do not reckon too confidently on that, sir,” said young Burney. “Nine
-years have not passed since she faced the company at the Wells, every
-one of which was surely pointing at her and asking in mute eloquence,
-'What has become of Mr. Kendal?' But by posting without delay you may
-yet retrieve your error. Still, I confess to you that I have known of a
-lady who, out of sheer impatience at the delay of a lover whom she
-had hoped to espouse, married his rival after the lapse of twenty-four
-hours--ay, and when the belated gentleman arrived just after the
-ceremony, he furnished the wedding party with a succulent feast. She
-was the Queen of one of the islands that we visited in the company of
-Captain Cook, and the cockswain of our galley kept the pickled hand of
-the belated lover for many a day--the very hand which he had designed to
-offer the lady.”
-
-“This simple and affecting narrative proves more eloquently than any
-phrases of mine could possibly do how a man may miss the happiness of
-his life by a hair's breadth,” said Garrick. “And the lesson will not be
-lost upon you, I am certain, sir.”
-
-“Lud, Mr. Garrick, you do not mean to suggest that----”
-
-“That the lady may make a meal off you on your late return, sir? Nay,
-Mr. Kendal. The Wells are still the Wells, not the South Seas; but on
-the whole I am disposed to believe that the scheme of revenge of
-the woman scorned is fiercer, though perhaps not, at first sight, so
-primeval, in the region of Chalybeate Waters than in a cannibal island
-of the South Seas. Therefore--there is no time to be lost. Fly to your
-charmer, sir, and throw yourself at her feet. She may be thinking over
-some punishment for your having placed her in a false position for some
-days; but do not mind that. You can always console yourself with the
-reflection that a rod in pickle is much more satisfactory than a hand in
-pickle. Fly, my dear friend, fly; every moment is precious. Take my word
-for it, joy awaits you at the end of your journey.”
-
-“'Journeys end in lovers meeting,'” remarked Dr. Burney, with a slight
-suggestion of the setting of the words of the lyric by his old master,
-Dr. Arne.
-
-At this moment a servant entered the room.
-
-“The Streatham carriage is at the door, sir,” he announced.
-
-Dr. Burney rose from his chair.
-
-“I am forced to leave you, sir,” he said to Mr. Kendal. “But really
-there is naught further to consult on at present, and I know that you
-are impatient--it is but natural--to fly to the side of your charmer.”
-
-“I am all impatience, sir; but with what words can I express my
-obligation to you, Doctor, for the benefit of your counsel?” cried Mr.
-Kendal.
-
-Dr. Burney smiled.
-
-“Nay, dear sir, I am but the lessee of the theatre where the comedy has
-been played,” said he; and he had good reason for feeling that he had
-defined with accuracy the position that he occupied. But Mr. Kendal
-was thinking too much about himself and the position he occupied to
-appreciate such _nuances_.
-
-“I knew that I was safe in coming to a friend of Mr. Greville,” he said.
-“I care not if, as you suggest, you have become Mr. Garrick's successor
-at Drury Lane, though I thought that Mr. Sheridan----”
-
-“Zounds, sir, you are never going to wait to discuss theatre matters,”
- cried Garrick. “Dr. Burney has been exercising his powers of oratory in
-vain upon you for this half hour if you tarry even to thank him. Post,
-sir, post at once to Tunbridge Wells, and send Dr. Burney your thanks
-when you have put the momentous question to the lady. Go, sir, without
-the pause of a moment, and good luck attend you.”
-
-“Good luck attend you! Keep up your heart, sir: the lady may refuse
-you after all,” said young Burney; but the poor gentleman who was being
-hurried away was too much flurried to be able to grasp the young man's
-innuendo, though one could see by the look that came to his face that
-he had an uneasy impression that Lieutenant Burney's good wishes had not
-been happily expressed. The great thing, however, was that he was at
-the other side of the door, calling out his obligations to everyone,
-and striving to shake hands with them all at once and yet preserve the
-security of his hat, which he had tucked under his arm. So excited was
-he that he was only restrained at the last moment from mounting the
-Thrales' carriage which was awaiting Dr. Burney, and even when his
-mistake was explained to him, he took off his hat to the splendid
-footman who had guarded the door of the vehicle.
-
-In the room where the comedy had been played, Garrick and Lieutenant
-Burney had thrown themselves into chairs with roars of laughter, when
-Dr. Burney returned from the hall, carrying his hat and cane. He was
-scarcely smiling.
-
-“You have played a pretty prank upon an inoffensive gentleman, the pair
-of you!” said he. “I am ashamed that my house has been used by you for
-so base a purpose! The poor gentleman!”
-
-“Psha! my dear Doctor, make your mind easy; the lady will teach that
-coxcomb a lesson that will be of advantage to him for the rest of his
-life,” said Garrick. “He has been the laughingstock of the Wells for the
-past fortnight, and no one laughed louder than the Widow Nash. She will
-bundle him out of her presence before he has had time to rise from his
-marrow-bones--he does not find the process a rapid one, I assure you.
-Oh, he was her _bete noire_ even when he was most civil to her.”
-
-“And it was you who concocted that plot of getting all your
-friends--Mrs. Cholmondeley, Mrs. Thrale and the rest--to make a fool of
-him, driving him away from the Wells to encounter a more irresistible
-pair of mocking demons in this room!” said Burney. “You cannot deny it,
-my friend, I know your tricks but too well.”
-
-“I swear to you that I had no hope of encountering him in this house, my
-dear Doctor,” said Garrick. “I give you my word that I had laid my
-plans quite differently. My plot was a far more elaborate one, and Polly
-Cholmondeley had agreed to take part in it, as well as Dick Sheridan.
-They will be disappointed to learn that it has miscarried. Who could
-guess that he should come to you of all men in the world, Doctor? He has
-never been one of your intimates.”
-
-“Only when I was living with Mr. Greville had we more than a superficial
-acquaintance,” replied Burney. “But that does not make me the less
-ashamed of having lent myself to your nefarious project. And you, James,
-you threw yourself with gusto into the fooling of the unhappy man--and
-woman too--and woman too, I repeat.”
-
-“Pray do not distress yourself on her account, Doctor. She will send him
-off with a flea in his ear by to-morrow night, and she will take care
-to pose as the insulted widow of Mr. Nash, whose memory is dear to her,”
- said Garrick.
-
-“Will she, indeed?” said Burney. “David Garrick, you are the greatest
-actor that has ever lived in England--probably in the world--but you are
-a poor comedian compared with such as are at work upon our daily life:
-we call them Circumstance, and Accident, and Coincidence. You know the
-couplet, I doubt not:
-
-               ' Men are the sport of circumstances when
-
-               The circumstances seem the sport of men.'
-
-You have sounded the depths of human impulses, so far as your plummet
-allows you, and womankind seems to you an open book----”
-
-“An illuminated missal, with the prayers done in gold and the Lessons
-for the day in the most roseate tint, Doctor.”
-
-“And the Responses all of a kind--the same in one book as another? But I
-make bold to believe, my friend, that every woman is a separate volume,
-of which only one copy has been printed; and, moreover, that every
-separate volume of woman is sealed, so that anyone who fancies he knows
-all that is bound up between the covers, when he has only glanced at the
-binding, makes a mistake.”
-
-“Admirably put, sir, and, I vow, with fine philosophy,” said Garrick.
-“But what imports this nomination of a woman at the present moment,
-Doctor?”
-
-“Its import is that you are over sanguine in your assurance that Mrs.
-Nash, widow, will reject Mr. Kendal, bachelor, when he offers her his
-hand after a dusty journey; and so good day to you, David Garrick, and
-I pray you to spend the rest of the day in the study of the history
-of those women who have opened the leaves of their lives a little way
-before the eyes of mankind.”
-
-He had left the room and was within the waiting carriage and driving
-away before his son remarked:
-
-“Mr. Garrick, it seems to me that my good father has spoken the wisest
-words that you or I have heard to-day or for many a day.”
-
-“And i' faith, James, it seems to me that that remark of yours is the
-second wisest that has been uttered in this room,” said Garrick.
-
-He went away without a further word--without even taking his leave of
-the two young women and their stepmother, who herself had been a widow
-before she had married Dr. Burney. He had once believed that nothing
-a woman--young or old--could do would surprise him; for some reason or
-other he was not now quite so confident as he had been. But he certainly
-did not think that one of the greatest surprises of the century should
-be due to the demure young woman who seemed the commonplace daughter of
-a very ordinary household, and who at the moment of his departure was
-darning a small hole in a kitchen table-cloth, under the superintendence
-of her admirable stepmother.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER V
-
-|IN the course of the morning Esther, the married daughter of the Bumey
-family, called at the house in St. Martin's Street. Esther, or as she
-was usually alluded to by her sisters, Hetty or Hettina, was handsome
-and accomplished. She had been married for some years to her cousin,
-Charles Rousseau Burney, who was a musician, and they lived and enjoyed
-living in an atmosphere of music. Her father took care that she was
-never likely to be asphyxiated; their atmosphere would never become
-attenuated so long as they lived, as they did, close to St. Martin's
-Street. He was well aware of the fact that his Hetty's duets with her
-husband--“matrimonial duets” they were called by Fanny in some of her
-letters--and also with her sister Charlotte, served to attract many
-distinguished visitors and profitable patrons to his house; he never
-forgot that profitable patrons and patronesses are always attracted
-by distinguished visitors. When one finds oneself in the company of
-distinguished people, one naturally feels a distinguished person also.
-
-Moreover, Dr. Burney knew perfectly well that when ambitious patrons
-and patronesses were made aware of the success which he had achieved in
-respect of his daughters, they were all ready to implore of him to
-spare some of his valuable time to give lessons to themselves, seeing no
-reason why, with his assistance, they should not reach the level of his
-two musical daughters. He conducted his teaching on the principle which
-brings fortunes to the Parisian modiste, who takes good care that her
-mannequins are good-looking and of a fine figure, knowing that the
-visitors to the showrooms have no doubt, no matter how little Nature
-has done for their own features or figures, that in the robes of the
-mannequins they will appear equally fascinating.
-
-The adoption of this system in the Burney household operated extremely
-well, and Dr. Burney had for several years enjoyed the proceeds of his
-cultivation of the musical tastes of the most influential clientèle in
-London. In addition, the greatest singers in Europe, knowing that there
-was always an influential _assistance_ to be found at Dr. Burney's
-little concerts in St. Martin's Street, were greatly pleased to
-contribute to the entertainment, for love, what they were in the habit
-of receiving large sums for from an impresario. Those Italian operatic
-artists most notorious for the extravagance of their demands when
-appearing in public, were pushing each other aside, so to speak, to be
-allowed to sing at Dr. Burney's, and really upon more than one occasion
-the contest between the generosity of a pair of the most distinguished
-of these singers must have been somewhat embarrassing to Dr. Burney.
-They were clearly singing against each other; and one of them, who
-invariably received fifty guineas for every contribution she made to a
-programme in public, insisted on singing no fewer than five songs, “all
-for love” (and to prove her superiority to her rival), upon a certain
-occasion at the Burneys'; so that really the little company ran a chance
-of being suffocated beneath the burden of flowers, as it were--the
-never-ending _fioriture_ of these generous artists--and Dr. Burney found
-himself in the position of the lion-tamer who runs a chance of being
-overwhelmed by the caresses of the carnivora who rush to lick his hands.
-
-The result of all this was extremely gratifying, and eminently
-profitable. Had Dr. Burney not been a great musician and shown by the
-publication of the first volume of the greatest History of Music the
-world had yet received, that he was worthy of being placed in the
-foremost ranks of scientific musicians, he would have run a chance of
-being placed only a little higher than the musical Cornelys of Soho
-Square, who gave their concerts, and entertained their friends, and made
-quite a reputation for some years before bankruptcy overtook them and
-the precincts of the Fleet became their headquarters.
-
-And now the beautiful Esther Burney was toying with the contents of her
-sister Fanny's work-basket, talking about her husband and his prospects,
-and inquiring what Mr. Garrick and James had to talk about in the room
-downstairs.
-
-“Pray speak in French to Fanny,” said Mrs. Burney. “I cannot get Lottie
-and Susan to do so as frequently as I could wish. You must remember that
-poor Fanny has had none of your advantages, and I do not want her to
-be talked of as the dunce of the family. She really is not a dunce, you
-know; in spite of her bad sight she really has done some very pretty
-sewing.”
-
-“I have seen it,” said Esther. “She works very neatly--more neatly than
-any of us.”
-
-Fanny blushed and smiled her thanks to her sister for the compliment.
-
-“What else is there left for me to do but to give all my attention to
-my needle?” she said. “I constantly feel that I am the dunce of the
-family--you are all so clever.”
-
-“It is well for many families that they include one useful member,” said
-her stepmother in a way that suggested her complete agreement with
-the girl's confession that she was the dunce of the family. A mother's
-acknowledgment that a girl is either useful or good-natured is
-practically an announcement that she is neither pretty nor accomplished.
-
-“And Fanny has many friends,” continued Mrs. Burney indulgently.
-
-“Which shows how kind people are, even to a dunce,” said Fanny, not
-bitterly, but quite good-humouredly.
-
-“But I am not sure that she should spend so much of her time writing to
-Mr. Crisp,” said the elder Mrs. Burney to the younger.
-
-“Oh, poor Daddy Crisp!” cried Fanny. “Pray, mother, do not cut him off
-from his weekly budget of news. If I fail to send him a letter he is
-really disconsolate. 'Tis my letters that keep him still in touch with
-the life of the town.”
-
-“Well, well, my dear Fanny, I shall not deprive you of your Daddy
-Crisp,” said her stepmother. “Poor Mr. Crisp must not be left to the
-tender mercies of Susan or Lottie. He is most hospitable, and his house
-at Chessington makes a pleasant change for us now and again, and he took
-a great fancy to you from the first.”
-
-“Daddy Crisp was always Fanny's special friend,” said Esther. “And I am
-sure that it is good practice for Fanny to write to him.”
-
-“Oh, she has long ago given up that childish nonsense,” cried the
-mother. “Poor Fanny made a pretty bonfire of her scribblings, and she
-has shown no weakness in that way since she took my advice in regard to
-them.”
-
-Fanny was blushing furiously and giving all her attention to her work.
-
-“She has still a sense of the guilt that attaches to the writing of
-stories, though I am sure that no one in this house remembers it against
-her,” said Esther with a laugh, as Fanny's blushes increased. “But
-indeed I had not in my mind Mr. Crisp's advantage to her in this way,
-but only in regard to her correspondence. She has become quite an expert
-letter-writer since he induced her to send him her budget, and indeed I
-think that good letter-writing is as much of an accomplishment in these
-careless days as good singing--that is ordinary good singing--the good
-singing that we hear from some of father's pupils--Queenie Thrale, _par
-exemple!_”
-
-“Your father is a good teacher, but the best teacher in the world cannot
-endow with a good singing-voice anyone who has not been so gifted by
-Nature,” said the elder lady. “'Tis somewhat different, to be sure, in
-regard to correspondence, and I do not doubt that Fanny's practice in
-writing to good Mr. Crisp will one day cause her to be regarded as one
-of the best letter-writers in the family, and that is something. It is
-a ladylike accomplishment, and one that is worth excelling in; it gives
-innocent pleasure to so many of her friends who live at a distance; and
-your father can always obtain plenty of franks, Mr. Charmier and Mr.
-Thrale are very obliging.”
-
-Fanny was a little fidgety while her eldest sister and her stepmother
-were discussing her in a tone of indulgence which was more humiliating
-than open reprobation would have been. But she knew that the truth
-was, that from her earliest years she was looked on as the dunce of the
-family, and she was so morbidly self-conscious that she was quite ready
-to accept their estimate of her. The silent member of a musical
-family soon finds out how she is looked on by the others; not with
-unkindness--quite the contrary--but only as if she were to be slightly
-pitied for her deficiency. But she had a secret or two, the treasuring
-of which in her heart prevented her from having any feeling of
-humiliation in the presence of her splendid sister, whom all the world
-sought to attract to their houses, especially when there were guests
-anxious to be entertained by the sweet singing of a handsome young
-woman with a very presentable young husband. Fanny had her secrets
-and cherished them with a fearful joy, for she knew that any day might
-remove either or both of them, and then there would be nothing left for
-her in the household but to put her heart into her needlework. But one
-cannot do needlework without needles, and if she were to put her heart
-into her work, and if every needle had a point, the result would, she
-knew, be a good many prickings.
-
-She trusted that she might never be condemned to put her heart into her
-needlework.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VI
-
-|THEN Lieutenant Burney sauntered into the room and greeted Esther; but
-when Fanny inquired with some eagerness what had been the result of Mr.
-Garrick's fooling of poor Mr. Kendal, James was by no means so glib or
-amusing as Fanny expected him to be.
-
-“Psha!” he cried; “that Mr. Kendal is not worth powder and shot--at
-least not the weight of metal that Mr. Garrick can discharge--not in a
-broadside--Mr. Garrick is not given to broadsides--they are too clumsy
-for him--he is like Luke Boscawen, our chief gunner; he had a contempt
-for what he was used to term a blustering broadside, having a liking
-only for the working of his little brass swivel. He could do anything
-that he pleased with his little swivel. 'Ping!' it would go, when he
-had squinted along the sights, and the object he aimed at half a
-mile away--sometimes so small that we could scarce see it from our
-foretop--down it went. Boscawen could do what he pleased with it--the
-blunt nose of a whale rising to spout a mile away--the stem of a
-cocoa-nut palm on one of the islands when we were not sure of
-the natives and there was no time to climb the tree--that is the
-marksmanship of Mr. Garrick, and your Mr. Kendal was not worthy of an
-exercise of so much skill.”
-
-“Nobody seems too insignificant to be made a fool of by Mr. Garrick,”
- said Mrs. Burney. “He is as happy when he has made a gruesome face and
-frightened a maid with a mop at the doorstep, as when he has stricken us
-with awe when the ghost enters in _Hamlet_, or when Macbeth declaims of
-the horror of the curse of sleeplessness that has been cast on him. That
-is why I said before he arrived that I was not sure that his influence
-upon you all is for good. He makes one lose one's sense of the right
-proportions and realities of life. Now is not that so, Hetty? I make
-no appeal to Fanny, for I know that she has ever been devoted to Mr.
-Garrick. Is it not true that she was used to frighten poor Lottie before
-she was ten by showing how Mr. Garrick frowned as the Duke of Gloster?”
-
-“I know that Fanny murdered us all in turn in our beds, assuring us that
-we were the Princes in the Tower, or some less real characters invented
-by herself,” said Esther. “But indeed if James tells us that Mr.
-Garrick's gun practice smashed the cocoa-nut that serves Mr. Kendal as a
-head, I should not grieve. Tell us what happened, James.”
-
-“Oh, 'twas naught worth words to describe,” said James. “The man came to
-take counsel of Daddy in regard to a jest that Mr. Garrick had, unknown
-to his victim, played off upon him, and Mr. Garrick so worked upon him
-that Daddy had no chance to speak. But Mr. Garrick made fools of us as
-well, for I give you my word, though we were in with him in his jest,
-he had us blubbering like boobies when he laid his hand on the fellow's
-shoulder and spoke nonsense in a voice quivering and quavering as though
-he were at the point of breaking down.”
-
-Mrs. Burney the elder shook her head.
-
-“That is what I do not like--that trifling with sacred things,” she
-said. “'Tis not decent in a private house--I would not tolerate it even
-in a playhouse, and I see that you are of my opinion, James, though you
-may have been dragged into the abetting of Mr. Garrick in whatever mad
-scheme he had set himself upon perfecting.”
-
-“Oh, for that matter we are all sorry when we have been merry at the
-expense of another, even though he be an elderly coxcomb such as that
-Mr. Kendal,” said James. “But enough--more than enough--of coxcomb
-Kendal! Tell us of the Duchess's concert, Hetty. Were the matrimonial
-duets as successful as usual?”
-
-Esther, who had been disappointed that her stepmother had not yet said
-a word about the concert of the previous night given by the Dowager
-Duchess of Portland, at which she and her husband had performed,
-brightened up at her brother's question.
-
-“The concert was well enough,” she replied with an affectation of
-carelessness. “'Twas no better than many that have taken place under
-this roof. Her Grace and her grandees were very kind to us--we had
-enough plaudits to turn the head of Gabrielli herself.”
-
-“Oh, the Gabrielli's head has been turned so frequently that one can
-never tell when it sits straight on her shoulders,” said James.
-
-“She was _very_ civil to us last evening,” said Esther. “Indeed, she
-was civil to everyone until the enchanter Rauzzini sang the solo
-from _Piramo e Tisbe_ and swept the company off their feet. The poor
-Gabrielli had no chance against Rauzzini.”
-
-“Especially in a company that numbered many ladies,” said James, with a
-laugh. “You remember what Sir Joshua told us that Dr. Goldsmith had once
-said of Johnson?--that in his argument he was like the highwayman: when
-his pistol missed fire he knocked one down with the butt.”
-
-“I heard that upon one occasion Dr. Johnson knocked a man down with a
-heavy book, but I cannot imagine his ever firing a pistol,” remarked
-Mrs. Burney, who had been used, when the wife of a straightforward
-merchant of Lynn, to take every statement literally, and had not yet
-become accustomed to the involved mode of speaking of the brilliant
-young Burneys.
-
-“You mean that Rauzzini--I don't quite perceive what you do mean by your
-reference to Dr. Goldsmith's apt humour,” said Esther.
-
-“I only mean that among such a company as assembled at the Duchess's, if
-he missed fire with his singing, he glanced around with those dark eyes
-of his and the ladies went down before him by the score,” replied James.
-“Do not I speak the truth, Fanny?” he added, turning quickly to where
-Fanny was searching with her short-sighted eyes close to her work-basket
-for some material that seemed to be missing.
-
-But she had clearly heard her brother's question, for she did not need
-to raise her head or to ask him to repeat it.
-
-“Oh, we are all the slaves of the nobil' signor,” she said, and
-continued her search in the basket.
-
-“From the way he talked to us last night it might be fancied that it was
-he who was the captive,” said Esther.
-
-“And I do not doubt that he is living in a state of constant captivity,”
- laughed James. “Ay, or I should rather term it inconstant captivity,
-for I dare swear that those black eyes of his do a deal of roving in the
-course of a year--nay, in the course of a day. These singer fellows feel
-that 'tis due to their art, this moving the hearts of their hearers,
-by moving their own affections from heart to heart. The Rauzzini is, I
-fancy, like one of the splendid butterflies we came upon in the Straits,
-fluttering from flower to flower.”
-
-“I have heard no stories of his inconstancy, even from the Gabrielli
-when she was most envious of his plaudits,” said Esther, and she glanced
-at her sister, who was earnestly threading a needle.
-
-“You goose!” cried James to Esther. “Do you suppose that Gabrielli would
-tell you anything so greatly complimentary to him? In these days you
-cannot pay a man a greater compliment than to compare him to the fickle
-butterfly. You see that suggests a welcome from every flower.”
-
-“I protest that it is to sailors I have heard most compliments of that
-sort paid,” laughed Esther, and then, putting herself in a singing
-attitude before him, she lilted most delightfully:
-
-                   “Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more!
-
-                   Men were deceivers ever,
-
-                   One foot on sea-
-
-
-“ha, ha, brother James!
-
-
-                   and one on shore,
-
-                   To one thing constant never.
-
-“Now be advised by me, dear James, and do not attribute even in a
-cynical way, the vice of inconstancy to a singer, until you have left
-the Navy.”
-
-“I did not allude to it as a vice--rather as a virtue,” said James.
-“Just think of the hard fate of any girl to have such a person as a
-singer ever by her side!”
-
-He easily evaded the rush down upon him made by Hetty, and used his
-nautical skill to sail to the windward of her, as it were, until he had
-reached the door, whence he sent a parting shot at her.
-
-“You surely don't think that I hinted that your spouse was a singer,” he
-cried. “A singer! Oh, lud! I should be swaying away on all top ropes if
-I were to call the matrimonial duets singing.”
-
-He gave a shout of laughter as he caught the ball of wool which Esther
-threw at him, having picked it up from her stepmother's work-table. He
-returned it with a better aim, and before his sister could get a hand on
-it, he had shut the door, only opening it a little space a few seconds
-later to put in his head with a mocking word, withdrawing it at once,
-and then his foot was heard upon the stair, while he gave a sailor's
-version of Mr. Garrick's patriotic naval song:
-
-               Come, cheer up, my lads, 'tis to glory we steer.
-
-“He has gone before I had a chance of asking him to take a message
-to the cheesemonger,” said Mrs. Burney, calling out to him while she
-hurried after him out of the room.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VII
-
-|THE moment the two sisters were alone, the elder said quickly in a low
-voice, leaning across the table:
-
-“We had a long talk with Signor Rauzzini, my dearest Fanny. I could not,
-of course, tell you before mother.”
-
-“You mentioned his name; but were you discreet?” said Fanny. “I think
-mother felt that you were going too far when you referred to his eyes.
-Mother most surely believes that the dark eyes of an Italian form a
-topic that should not be discussed except by our elders, and then only
-with bated breath and a fearful glance around lest a word should be
-overheard.”
-
-“His eyes--you know his eyes, Fanny?”
-
-“Oh!” said Fanny, with an inflection that was between a sigh and a moan.
-
-“You should have seen them while he spoke of you,” said Esther. “Talk
-of flashes of lightning!--Dear child, it seemed so singular to us that a
-mite like you should inspire a grand passion in such a man. You are not
-angry with us, I know, but it was so indeed.”
-
-“Why should I feel angry with you for feeling just what I do myself,
-only more intensely,” said Fanny. “Tis one of the greatest mysteries of
-life--the only mystery of life that I have yet faced--why a man who is
-as handsome as an archangel, and who possesses a voice that an archangel
-might envy, should so much as glance at an insignificant young woman
-like myself! Oh! 'tis no wonder that the notion amused you, dear Hetty.”
-
-“It only diverted us for a time, I assure you, my Fanny; it did not
-take us very long to perceive how it was no laughing matter, but, on
-the contrary, a very serious matter. Signor Rauzzini is, as I said, an
-enchanter, but do you not think that 'tis somewhat dangerous to--to----”
-
-“To play with fire? That is what is on your mind, dear--to allow
-the fire of his Roman eyes to play about me? Dangerous? I admit that
-wherever there is fire there is danger, especially when it flashes from
-such eyes.”
-
-“I am glad that you need no warning, child. As your elder sister I am
-pleased that--that--but no one in the house seems to think for a moment
-that the favour he has so distinctly shown to you can mean anything.
-Indeed, until last night, neither Charles nor I could believe----”
-
-Fanny laughed, half closing her short-sighted eyes with a curious
-expression as she looked at her sister.
-
-“It is only natural, my dear Hettina,” she said.
-
-“Have I ever ventured to suggest that I am other than the dunce of the
-family?”
-
-“You have always been absurdly humble, Fanny, and I have never hesitated
-to say so,” cried Esther. “I am sure that none of us could have made up
-such clever little pieces to act as you did when we were children. And
-as for writing, could any of us have so neatly copied out the padre's
-History as you did last year? Mr. Crisp, too--he never takes pleasure in
-any letters of the family except what you write for him.”
-
-“All perfectly true, my Hettina,” replied Fanny. “But where am I when
-the house is filled with visitors? You know that I am nobody--that all
-I pray for with all my heart is that no one will take any notice of me,
-and I think I can say that my prayer is nearly always granted.”
-
-“That is because you are so dreadfully--so absurdly shy,” said Esther.
-“You are the little mouse that is evermore on the look out for a hole
-into which you can creep and be safe from the observation of all eyes.
-You are ever trying to escape, unless when Mr. Garrick is here.”
-
-“Dear Hettina, I know my place--that is all. I have weak eyes, but quick
-ears, and I have heard strangers ask, when they have heard you sing and
-Susan play, who the little short-sighted girl in the corner is and what
-she means to do for the entertainment of the company. When they are
-assured that I am one of the clever Burney family they whisper an
-incredulous 'No?' They cannot believe that so insignificant a person as
-myself can be one of you.”
-
-“Tis your morbid self-consciousness, Fanny, that suggests so much to
-you.”
-
-“Oh, no; I was the dunce from the first. You know that while you could
-read any book with ease when you were six, I did not even know my
-letters when I was eight. Don't you remember how James made a jest of
-my thirst for knowledge by pretending to teach me the alphabet with the
-page turned upside down? And when you had gone to school at Paris and
-it was my turn as the next eldest, the wise padre perceived in a moment
-that the money would be much better spent upon Susan and Lottie, and
-they went to be educated while I remained at home in ignorance? The dear
-padre was right: he knew that I should have been miserable among bright
-girls away from home.”
-
-There was a pause before the elder sister said quite pathetically:
-
-“My poor Fanny! I wonder if you have not been treated shabbily among
-us.”
-
-“Not. I, my Hettina. I have always been treated fairly. I have had as
-many treats as any of you; when you were learning so much in Paris I
-have been learning quite a number of things at home. And one of the
-most important things I learned was that so brilliant a person as Signor
-Rauzzini could never be happy if married to so insignificant a person as
-Fanny Burney.”
-
-Esther gave a little sigh of relief.
-
-“Indeed I think that your conclusion is a right one, dear,” she said.
-“We both came to the conclusion--Charles and I--that it would be a huge
-misfortune if you should allow yourself to be attracted by the glamour
-that attaches to the appearance of such a man as the Rauzzini, though,
-mind you, I believe that he honestly fancies himself in love with
-you--oh, he made no disguise of it in talking with us last night. But I
-hoped that you would be sensible.”
-
-“Oh, in the matter of sense I am the equal of anyone in the family,”
- said Fanny, laughing. “That I mean to make my one accomplishment--good
-sense. That is the precious endowment of the dunce of the clever
-family--good sense; the one who stands next to the dunce in the lack of
-accomplishments should be endowed with good nature. Good sense and good
-nature go hand in hand in plain grey taffeta, not down the primrose
-paths of life, but along the King's highway of every day, where they run
-no chance of jostling the simple foot-passengers or exciting the envy
-of any by the flaunting of feathers in their face. Good sense and good
-nature are best satisfied when they attract no attention, but pass on to
-obscurity, smiling at the struggle of others to be accounted persons of
-importance.”
-
-“Then you have indeed made up your mind to marry Mr. Barlowe?” cried
-Esther.
-
-Fanny laughed enigmatically.
-
-“Does it not mean rather that I have made up my mind not to marry Mr.
-Barlowe?” she cried.
-
-Esther looked puzzled: she was puzzled, and that was just what Fanny
-meant her to be.
-
-But then she looked piqued, as elder sisters do when puzzled by the
-words or the acts of the younger. What business have younger sisters
-puzzling their elders? Their doing so suggests pertness when the elders
-are unmarried, but sheer insubordination when they are married; and
-Esther was by no means willing at any time to abrogate the privileges of
-her position as a married woman.
-
-“I protest that I do not understand your meaning, Fanny,” she said,
-raising her chin in a way that gave her head a dignified poise. There
-was also a chill dignity in the tone of her voice.
-
-“Dear Hettina, I ask your pardon,” cried Fanny quickly. “I fear that
-I replied to you with a shameful unreasonableness. But indeed I am not
-sure that you had reason on your side when you assumed that because I
-was ready to acknowledge that it would not mean happiness to our dear
-Signor Rauzzini to marry an insignificant person like myself, I was
-therefore prepared to throw myself into the arms of Mr. Barlowe.”
-
-“I fancied that--that--but you may have another suitor in your mind
-whose name you have not mentioned to anyone.”
-
-“Why should it be necessary for me to have a suitor of any kind? Is it
-not possible to conceive of the existence of a young woman without a row
-of suitors in the background? I admit that the 'Odyssey' of Homer--you
-remember how I used to listen to your reading of Mr. Broome's
-translation to mother--would be shorn of much of its interest but for
-that background of suitors in one of the last books, but--well, my dear
-sister, I hold that the alternative song of life to the matrimonial duet
-is the spinster's solo, and it does not seem to me to be quite devoid of
-interest.”
-
-“Oh, I took it for granted----” began Esther, when Fanny broke in upon
-her.
-
-“Yes, I know what all the happily wedded ones take for granted,” she
-cried. “You assume that the wedded life is the only one worth living;
-but as we are told in the Bible that there is one glory of the sun and
-another of the moon, so I hold that I am justified in believing that if
-matrimony be celestial, spinsterhood is terrestrial, but a glory all the
-same, and not unattractive to me. I may be wise enough to content myself
-with the subdued charm of moonlight if it so be that I am shut off from
-the midday splendour of matrimony.”
-
-Esther did not laugh in the least as did her sister when she had
-spoken with an air of finality. She only made a little motion with her
-shoulders suggesting a shrug, while she said:
-
-“I hope you will succeed in convincing mother that your views are the
-best for the household; but I think you will have some difficulty in
-doing so, considering what a family of girls we are.”
-
-“I do not doubt that mother will be on the side of immediate matrimony
-and poor Mr. Barlowe,” said Fanny.
-
-“Why poor Mr. Barlowe?” cried Esther. “He is a young man of excellent
-principles, and he has never given his parents a day's trouble. It
-is understood that if he marries sensibly he will be admitted to a
-partnership in the business, so that----”
-
-“Principles and a partnership make for matrimonial happiness, I doubt
-not,” said Fanny. “And I doubt not that Dr. Fell had both excellent
-principles and an excellent practice; still someone has recorded in
-deathless verse that she--I assume the sex--did not like that excellent
-man.”
-
-“And you do not like Mr. Barlowe on the same mysterious grounds?” said
-Hetty.
-
-“Nay, I am not so unreasonable, I hope,” replied Fanny. “But--but--dear
-sister, I remember how I thought that the song of the linnet which was
-in our little garden at Lynn was the loveliest strain of the grove, and
-such was my belief until I awoke one night at Chessington and heard the
-nightingale.”
-
-“You are puzzling--singularly puzzling today,” said Esther frowning.
-“You have started two or three mystifying parables already. You told
-me some time ago as a great secret that you had been renewing your
-story-writing, in spite of your having burnt all that you had written
-for our edification--all that story--what was its name? The heroine was
-one Caroline Evelyn. You were ever an obedient child, or you would not
-have sacrificed your offspring at the bidding of our new mother, though
-the advice that she gave you was good, if you have not quite adhered to
-it. Novel writing is not for young ladies any more than novel reading,
-and certainly talking in parables is worse still. Well, I have no more
-time to spend over your puzzles.”
-
-“You would not find their solution to repay you, my dear,” said Fanny.
-
-“Still, I am pleased to learn that you take a sensible view of Signor
-Rauzzini and his heroics--but, indeed, I cannot see that Mr. Barlowe
-should not be considered, with his prospects--his father is a mercer in
-gold and silver lace, as you know----”
-
-“I have heard so--it is a profitable trade, I believe.”
-
-“None more so. It is impossible to believe that a time will ever come
-when gold and silver lace will cease to be worn by gentlemen.”
-
-“That would be an evil day for England as well as for Messieurs Barlowe,
-_père et fils_. But thank heaven it is not yet in sight. Good morning,
-dear sister; and be assured you have my thanks for your advice. But
-mind you keep my little secret about the writing. Good-bye. You can face
-mother boldly, knowing that you have carried out her commission to the
-letter, and very neatly and discreetly into the bargain.”
-
-“I would not have done so if her views had not been mine also; as for
-your writing--you may depend on my keeping your secret. But you will
-have to get the padre's permission to have it printed--that's something
-still in the far future, I suppose;”--and the elder sister stooped to
-kiss the younger--Fanny was not up to the shoulder of the beautiful and
-stately Esther.
-
-And so they parted.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VIII
-
-|FANNY BURNEY had been forced, for the first time, to make her sister
-aware of the fact that she knew she was looked on as the dunce of the
-brilliant Burney family. She could see that her doing so had startled
-her sister, for neither Esther nor any of the other girls had ever
-suggested to her that they thought of her as being on a different level
-from themselves, though it was tacitly allowed that it was a great
-pity that Fanny did not emulate them in taking pains to shine as it was
-expected the children of that estimable master of music, Dr. Burney,
-should shine, so as to make the house in that narrow little street off
-Leicester Fields attractive to its many distinguished visitors.
-
-Fanny had truly defined her place in the household. She had recognized
-her place for several years; but there was not the least suggestion of
-rancour in her tone when talking to her brilliant elder sister, for
-the simple reason that there was no bitterness in her heart against any
-member of the family for being cleverer than herself. Fanny took pride
-in the accomplishments of her sisters, and was quite content with her
-position in relation to them. She got on well with all of them, because
-she was fond of them all, and they were all fond of her. She had not
-rebelled when her father had sent her younger sisters to be educated
-in Paris, and had allowed her to pick up her own education as best she
-might in his own library; and it had been a great happiness to her to be
-allowed the privilege of copying out for the press the first volume of
-her father's “History of Music.” It was her stepmother who, finding
-out that Fanny had what Mrs. Burney called “a taste for writing,” had
-suggested that that was the legitimate channel in which such a taste
-should flow; and it was her stepmother who had induced her to make a
-bonfire of all her own writings--the scribblings of her girlhood that
-represented the foolish errant flow of her “taste for writing “: and
-now and again she had a consciousness of her own duplicity in failing
-to resist the impulse that had come upon her to do some more of what her
-mother termed her “girlish scribbling.”
-
-One of the guilty secrets that Fanny cherished was that when it was
-believed she was writing her long letters to her old friend Mr. Crisp,
-she had been composing a novel which was now about to be given to the
-world; the second was that Signor Rauzzini, the handsome young Roman
-singer with whom half the fashionable ladies of the town were in love,
-was in love with her.
-
-These were two secrets worth the cherishing, she knew; and the thought
-of them more than compensated her for the reflection that she was the
-dunce of the family, and that the unconscious tone of patronage adopted
-toward her by her elder sister and the dreadful compliments paid to her
-plain sewing, as though plain sewing represented the highest hopes that
-could reasonably be entertained in regard to her, were only to be looked
-for in the circumstances.
-
-The two secrets were closely bound up together, she knew. She had the
-deepest affection for Signor Rauzzini. How could she fail to return the
-feeling which the whisper of his musical voice had told her he had
-conceived for her? He loved her in spite of the fact that she was the
-least attractive member of the family--in spite of the fact that half
-the town was at his feet, and that he might have made his choice from
-among the best. He had chosen her whom no one else had ever noticed,
-with the exception of her father's old friend, Mr. Crisp, and--oh, yes
-(she laughed now, perceiving that she had done an injustice to the other
-person who had been attracted to her--mainly, she thought, on account of
-her reputation for plain sewing)--a young man named Thomas Barlowe, the
-excellent son of the well-known mercer of gold and silver lace, in the
-Poultry!
-
-Thinking of young Mr. Barlowe by the side of Signor Rauzzini,
-Fanny laughed again. She had so restricted an opinion of her own
-attractiveness that the tears actually came into her eyes for having
-given that derisive laugh as she compared the two young men; and she
-felt that she had been grossly ungrateful to young Mr. Barlowe; for even
-young Mr. Barlowe had a right to look above her level for a wife. As the
-daughter of a simple music master with a large family she could have no
-endowment so far as worldly goods were concerned; and she knew that the
-practical parents of young business men, as a rule, looked for their
-sons to marry, if not great fortunes, at least young women with a few
-thousands to their names.
-
-She felt that she had treated the condescending young Mr. Barlowe very
-badly in laughing at the poor figure he cut by the side of the angelic
-Roman singer--she had failed to resist the temptation to call Signor
-Rauzzini angelic in one of her letters to Mr. Crisp--and now,
-in thinking of Mr. Barlowe as a very worthy young man, she was
-unconsciously relegating him to a hopeless position as a lover. It
-is not the very worthy young men who are beloved by young women of a
-romantic temperament: if it were there would be very few romances
-left. But little Miss Burney desired only to ease the twinges of her
-conscience for having laughed at the thought of young Tommy Barlowe; and
-she thought that she had done the right thing in assuring herself that
-he was a very worthy person.
-
-And then she thought no more about him. She had a feeling that to give
-another thought to him when she had such a man as Signor Rauzzini
-to think about, would be a constructive act of treason in regard to
-Rauzzini. She had received many hints from her stepmother to the effect
-that all the family considered her to be a very fortunate young woman
-(all things taken into account) in having a chance of marrying the
-Thomas who seemed ready to pay his addresses to her; but though quite
-submissive to her stepmother in household matters, she was ready to face
-her with the “Never!” of the avowed rebel in the matter of consenting
-to wed the highly approved Thomas, and so she dismissed him from her
-thoughts, in favour of the man whom she loved.
-
-But thinking of the man whom she loved was by no means equivalent to
-passing into a region of unalloyed happiness. She had mystified her
-sister by the way in which she had spoken about Signor Rauzzini, and the
-seal had been put upon the mystery by her frank acknowledgment that she
-did not think a union between so distinguished a man as Rauzzini and so
-insignificant a person as herself was likely to be satisfactory.
-
-She had certainly allowed Hetty to go away believing that this was
-in her mind; and that was just what was in her mind when her thoughts
-turned from Thomas, whom she considered so estimable, to Rauzzini,
-whom she loved. She loved the Roman singer so truly that she had made a
-resolution never to consent to his marrying anyone so insignificant as
-she believed herself to be.
-
-She had no illusions regarding herself. She knew just how good-looking
-she was; she knew that by the side of any of her sisters she was almost
-plain; but that she had a pleasing, simple face of a very ordinary type.
-She knew that she could love with the truest devotion and she could
-trust herself not to change with time. But she felt that these were not
-beyond the traits of the ordinary young woman, and that they did
-not lift her from the level of insignificance to the level of Signor
-Rauzzini.
-
-She knew that she was at that moment an insignificant person; and she
-made no attempt to think of herself as otherwise.
-
-Yes; but she had heard of people--even young women--being insignificant
-one day, and the next springing to a pinnacle of fame to which all eyes
-looked up. How would it be if she were destined to reach in a moment
-a position that would place her on a level with the man of her
-thoughts--the man whose fame as a singer had caused him to be the centre
-round which every conversation in the most notable circles turned?
-Everyone was talking in praise of Rauzzini; and she herself thought of
-him as occupying a place on a height as far above her as King Cophetua's
-throne was above the marble steps at the foot of which the beggar maid
-had crouched; but in her mind there was the possibility that her name
-might one day be spoken by the world in connection with an achievement
-that would raise her from the insignificance of Fanny Burney to the
-importance of Signor Rauzzini, and prevent people from asking what on
-earth had induced so glorious a person as he to make her his wife!
-
-That was the secret dream which filled the imagination of this
-imaginative young woman--the same dream as comes to so many young women
-who have written the last chapter of a book and sent it forth for the
-world to receive with acclaim--the dream of fame--of immortality! She
-had written a novel and it was about to be given to the world, if the
-world would have it, and upon its success her happiness depended. If
-it brought her fame, it would place her by the side of the man whom
-she loved; but if it failed, then she would remain a person of no
-significance, and quite unworthy of sharing the honours which were
-showered upon her lover. She had imagination, and this faculty it was
-that made her more than doubtful of the success of King Cophetua's rash
-experiment. She felt sure that King Cophetua had now and again, turning
-suddenly round, caught one of his courtiers with his tongue in his
-cheek when his Majesty was entering the throne-room with his shy and
-insignificant Queen by his side, and that the Queen had occasionally
-overheard the whispers of her maids of honour, when they did not know
-she was at hand, asking one another what on earth the King had seen in
-her that induced him to make her his consort. Little Miss Burney had
-long ago made up her mind that the union of King Cophetua and his beggar
-maid was far from being a happy one--that the King looked around him and
-saw several princesses of great beauty and quite devoid of shyness who
-were fully acquainted with the convenances of his court and would not,
-if he had married any one of them, have made the mistakes which she was
-sure the young person whom he had elevated had fallen into, causing him
-constant irritation.
-
-Little Miss Burney had resolved that she would never play the part of
-a crowned beggar maid. The man whom she loved had won fame for himself,
-and she would not go to him unless she, too, had at least made such
-a name for herself as should prevent her from feeling herself in the
-position of the beggar maid whom King Cophetua had raised to his side.
-Little Miss Burney resolved that although she could scarcely expect to
-go to her lover wearing purple robes embroidered with gold, she could,
-at any rate, refrain from wearing beggars' rags. She had her ambitions,
-and she felt that they were not ignoble, but that they made for the
-happiness of the man she loved, and who had been gracious enough to love
-her--the least attractive member of the family.
-
-But after she had sat for some time with her hands lying idle on the
-sempstress' work at which she had been engaged on the departure of her
-sister--after her imagination had carried her much farther away than she
-intended it should, she was sensible of a return to the cold world from
-which she had soared. Her heart, which had begun to beat quickly when
-Hetty had told her how the divine Rauzzini had spoken of her, sank
-within her as she seemed to hear a voice asking who was she that she
-should hope to reach by the publication of that story which she had been
-writing by stealth and at odd times during the past three years, even
-the smallest measure of fame that would compare with that of Signor
-Rauzzini? What fame attached to the writing of a novel in comparison
-with that achieved by the enchantment of a singer who had power to move
-the hearts of men and women as it pleased him? Orpheus--ah, what
-fame could compare with the fame of Orpheus, the singer? His was a
-heaven-sent gift. What was her little talent compared with such a gift?
-If she had the ability even to make music such as one of her sisters
-could bring forth from the keys of the piano, she would have a better
-chance of being accounted worthy of a place beside Signor Rauzzini than
-if her novel found its way to the shelves of many readers. The writing
-of a novel was a poor achievement--nay, in the opinion of a good many
-people, including her own stepmother--a most practical woman--it was
-something to be ashamed of; and Fanny herself, thinking over all
-the novels written by women which she herself had read--most of them
-surreptitiously--was disposed to agree with her. That was why she had
-kept as a secret for more than three years the fact that she was trying
-to write a novel. Her father knew nothing of it, and her stepmother was
-equally uninformed. Even her old friend Mr. Crisp, to whom she wrote
-voluminous letters week after week, and to whom she gave her confidence
-on many matters, had no suspicion that she had written her novel.
-
-She had thought it prudent to keep this matter hidden from them, for she
-did not doubt that if she had told any one of them of her project, she
-would never have a chance of realizing it. They would certainly have
-pronounced against such a proceeding even before a page of her novel
-came to be written.
-
-And yet it was the thought that this novel was shortly to be published
-that had caused her to feel that she was drawing nearer to her lover.
-
-As she reflected upon this, sitting idly over her work when her sister
-had left the house, her tears began to fall, not in a torrent, but
-slowly dropping at intervals upon the fabric which she had been sewing.
-She felt very sad, very hopeless, very lonely.
-
-Nor could it be said that the sudden return of Mrs. Burney meant a
-return of happiness to the girl.
-
-Mrs. Burney did not consider that Fanny had made satisfactory progress
-with her work, and did not hesitate to express her opinion to this
-effect. But she was not imprudently unkind; for young Mr. Barlowe had
-just written to her, begging permission to pay his respects to Mrs.
-Burney and her daughter that evening, and she meant that Fanny should be
-in a good humour to entertain him.
-
-Mrs. Burney had great hopes that the question of Fanny's future--a
-constant topic of conversation and consultation between her and her
-husband--might be settled by a series of visits of young Mr. Barlowe.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER IX
-
-|YOUNG Mr. Barlowe took himself very seriously, and he had every right
-to do so; for a more serious young man was not to be found in business
-in London. He had been brought up to look upon everything in the world
-as having an intimate connection with business, and it had always been
-impressed upon him that business meant the increase of money, and that
-there was hardly anything in the world worth giving a thought to apart
-from the increase of money. It never occurred to any of his preceptors
-to suggest that the advantage of increasing one's money lay in the
-splendid possibilities of spending it. The art of making money forms
-the whole curriculum of a business man's education; he is supposed to
-require no instruction in the art of spending it. Thus it is that, by
-attending only to one side of the question, so many business men lead
-much less interesting lives than they might, if they had it in their
-power to place themselves under the guidance of a trustworthy professor
-of the Art of Spending. But no Chair of Spending has yet been provided
-at any University, nor is there any instructor on this important branch
-of business education at any of the City schools, hence it is that the
-sons of so many money-making men turn out spendthrifts. They have been
-taught only one side of the great money question, and that the less
-important side into the bargain. In making an honest endeavour to master
-the other side, usually on the death of a father or a bachelor uncle,
-both looked on as close-fisted curmudgeons, a good many young men find
-themselves in difficulties.
-
-Young Mr. Barlowe, on being introduced to the Burney family, through the
-circumstance of Mrs. Burney's first husband having done business with
-Mr. Barlowe the elder, found himself in a strange atmosphere. He had
-never before imagined the existence of a household where music and plays
-and books were talked about as if these were the profitable topics of
-life. Previously he had lived in a house where the only profitable topic
-was thought to be the Profits. At his father's table in the Poultry the
-conversation never travelled beyond the Profits. The likelihood of a
-rise in the price of gold or silver sometimes induced the father to
-increase his stock of bullion without delay, and then if the price rose,
-he could conscientiously charge his customers for the lace at such a
-rate per ounce as gave him a clear five per cent, extra profit; and it
-was upon such possibilities that the conversation in the Poultry parlour
-invariably turned.
-
-And here were these Burneys talking with extraordinary eagerness and
-vivacity upon such matters as the treatment by a singer named Gabrielli
-of one of the phrases in a song of Mr. Handel's, beginning: “Angels ever
-bright and fair”! For himself, young Mr. Barlowe thought that there
-was no need for so much repetition in any song. “Angels ever bright and
-fair, Take, oh take me to your care”--that was the whole thing, as it
-seemed to him; and when that request had been made once he thought it
-was quite enough; to repeat it half a dozen times was irritating and
-really tended to defeat its purpose. Only children in the nursery
-kept reiterating their requests. But he had heard Dr. Burney and
-his son-in-law, Esther's husband, discuss the Gabrielli's apparently
-unauthorized pause before the second violins suggested (as it appeared
-to the younger musician) a whisper of assent floating from the heaven;
-and all the members of the family except Fanny had taken sides in the
-controversy, as though a thing like that had any bearing upon the daily
-life of the City!
-
-Thomas Barlowe was amazed at the childishness of the discussion, and he
-was particularly struck by the silence of Fanny on this occasion. She
-was silent, he was sure, because she agreed with him in thinking it
-ridiculous to waste words over a point that should be relegated to the
-nursery for settlement.
-
-“They seem pleasant enough people in their way,” he told his mother
-after his first visit. “But they know nothing of what is going on in the
-world--the real world, of which the Poultry is the centre. It might
-be expected that the young man who is a naval officer and has seen the
-world would know something of the import of the question when I asked
-him what direction he thought gold would move in; but he only winked and
-replied, 'Not across my hawse, I dare swear,' and the others laughed as
-if he had said something humorous.”
-
-“Mayhap it was humorous,” suggested his mother gravely.
-
-“It would be sheer ribaldry for anyone to jest upon such a subject
-as the fluctuations in the price of silver,” said Thomas slowly.
-“Lieutenant Burney must surely know how serious a matter would be a fall
-of a fraction of a crown when we have bought heavily in prospect of
-a rise. But Miss Burney looks to be different from the others of the
-family. I have told you that while her father, and indeed all the rest,
-were talking excitedly on that ridiculous point in Mr. Handel's music,
-she sat in silence. She is short-sighted, but I noticed more than once
-that she had her eyes fixed on me, as if she had found something to
-study in me. She is, I think, a steady, observant young lady. When Mrs.
-Burney said she hoped that I would visit them again, I think I perceived
-a sort of interest on Miss Burney's face as she awaited my answer.”
-
-Thomas had resolved not to frustrate the hopes that Mrs. Burney had
-expressed as to his paying another visit--as a matter of fact he had
-come three times, and on every occasion he had devoted himself to
-Fanny--to be more exact than Mrs. Burney, who had described his
-attentions in this phrase, he had passed his time subjecting her to a
-sort of catechism with a view to discover if she would make him the
-sort of wife that would suit him. It appeared that the result of his
-inquisition was satisfactory, and that his attentions were gradually
-becoming intentions; but Mrs. Burney had never gone farther than to
-comment favourably to Fanny upon the young man's steadiness, and to
-suggest that the young woman whom he might choose to be his wife would
-be fortunate, steady young men with good prospects in the City being far
-from abundant. She had never gone so far as to ask Fanny if she would
-accept good fortune coming to her in such a form; though Fanny knew very
-well that she had asked Esther to sound her on this point.
-
-How far Esther's mission was accounted successful by their stepmother,
-Fanny, of course, could not guess; but at any rate Thomas was to pay a
-visit after dinner, and Fanny felt that it was necessary for her to be
-discreet. It had been very interesting for her to study Thomas, with the
-possibility before her of writing a second novel, in which some of
-his traits of character might be introduced with advantage; but she
-perceived how there was a likelihood of her course of study being paid
-for at too high a rate; so she resolved--to be discreet beyond her
-ordinary exercise of a virtue which she displayed at all times of her
-life.
-
-So Thomas came to the house in St. Martin's Street while tea was
-being served in the drawingroom, to the accompaniment of a duet on
-the piano--Dr. Burney had quickly perceived the merits of this new
-instrument over that of the harpsichord--between Susan and her father.
-Very close to the instrument, pressing the receiver of his ear-trumpet
-to the woodwork of the case, sat Sir Joshua Reynolds, while his
-sister--a lady of middle age who was gradually relinquishing the idea
-that she, too, could paint portraits--was suffering Mrs. Burney
-to explain to her the advantages of Lynn over London as a place of
-residence for people anxious to economize.
-
-Fanny was at the table where the teapot and urn were being drawn on, and
-close to her sat her brother James, with a volume like an account-book
-lying face down on the table while he drank his tea.
-
-The progress of the duet was not arrested by the entrance of young Mr.
-Barlowe, but he looked in the direction of the instrument when he had
-shaken hands with Mrs. Burney and bowed to Miss Reynolds. It was obvious
-that he was mystified by seeing Sir Joshua's ear-trumpet pressed against
-the sound-conducting case of the piano. He was still looking at it with
-curious eyes while he greeted Fanny with the concentrated politeness of
-the Poultry.
-
-Lieutenant Burney roused himself from his lolling attitude when he saw
-the puzzled look on the young man's face, and he obligingly endeavoured
-to explain away the mystery.
-
-“'Tis no wonder that you are amazed, Mr. Barlowe,” he said in a
-whisper. “I own that when it was first brought to my notice I thought it
-extraordinary. A marvellous instrument, is it not, that is played by the
-ear instead of by the mouth? And yet you must own that some of the notes
-it produces are very fine--much more delicate than could be produced by
-any other means.”
-
-“I do not profess to be a judge of music, sir,” said Thomas; “but I
-know what pleases me.” Fanny wondered how often she had heard that
-same boast--the attempt of complete ignorance to be accredited with the
-virtue of frankness. “Yes, I own that I consider the music monstrous
-pretty; but with the ear--that is what puzzles me: it seems a simple
-trumpet, such as is blown by the mouth.”
-
-“Pray do not let my father hear you say that, Mr. Barlowe,” whispered
-James. “That instrument is his fondest. You know that he has written a
-'History of Music'?”
-
-“All the world knows that, sir,” replied Thomas gallantly. “I have not
-yet found time to read it myself, but----”
-
-“Neither have I, sir; but I understand that that instrument which seems
-new to such simpletons as you and I is really as ancient as the pyramids
-of Egypt--nay, more so, for my father discovered in his researches that
-this was the identical form of the first instrument made by Tubal Cain
-himself.”
-
-“Is't possible? In our Family Bible there is a picture of Tubal Cain,
-but he is depicted blowing through a conch shell.”
-
-“A shell! Ah! such was the ignorance of the world on these matters
-before my father wrote his History. But he has managed to clear up
-many points upon which complete ignorance or very erroneous opinions
-prevailed. It is not generally known, for instance, that Tubal had his
-second name given to him by reason of his habitually murdering every
-musical piece that he attempted to play.”
-
-“But he was the inventor, was he not?”
-
-“Quite true, Mr. Barlowe. But that fact, you must admit, only made his
-offence the more flagrant. So the inscriptions on the rocks assert; and
-there are some sensible people nowadays who believe that Tubal's second
-and very suggestive name should be coupled with the names of many more
-recent performers on musical instruments.”
-
-“You do not allude to the gentleman who is playing that new
-instrument--I mean that very ancient instrument--by the side of Dr.
-Burney?”
-
-“Oh, surely not. That gentleman is one of the most notable performers of
-our age, Mr. Barlowe. I ask you plainly, sir, have you ever seen, even
-at a raree show, a musician who could play an instrument with his ear
-and produce such a good effect? You can easily believe that a vast
-amount of ingenuity is needed to produce even the simplest sound in that
-way.”
-
-“If I had not it demonstrated before my eyes I should not believe it
-possible. I protest, sir, that the effect is very pretty. Is't not so,
-Miss Burney?”
-
-The young man turned to Fanny, who was doing her best to refrain from an
-outburst of laughter; she could not trust herself to put her cup of tea
-to her lips while her brother was continuing his fooling. She thought
-that it was scarcely good manners of him to play such a jest upon a
-visitor, though she knew the ward-room code of manners which her naval
-brother had acquired was very liberal on such points. She was about to
-give Mr. Barlowe a hint of the truth of Sir Joshua's ear-trumpet, but
-James, perceiving her intention, defeated it by saying in a tone above a
-whisper:
-
-“Cain--we mentioned Cain, did we not, Mr. Barlowe? Oh, yes; and it must
-have occurred to you how strangely customs have altered during the past
-ten years--how strongly opposed people are to-day to principles that
-were accepted without demur so recently as in our own boyhood. You take
-my meaning, sir?”
-
-Mr. Barlowe did not look as if he quite grasped Lieutenant Burney's
-drift, and Fanny felt it incumbent on her to prevent further fooling (as
-he thought she would) by remarking:
-
-“My brother means, Mr. Barlowe, that 'tis remarkable how many changes
-are being made in many ways--but what he had in his mind was, of course,
-in respect to the forte-piano--on which my father and sister are
-playing a duet: only a few years ago no one thought to improve upon
-the harpsichord; and yet my father asserts that in a short time the
-harpsichord will be no more than a curiosity--that the forte-piano--or
-as we simply call it now, the piano, will take its place in every
-household. That is what you meant, was it not, James?”
-
-“I was thinking of Cain and his profession--Cain, the good old murderer,
-rather than of Tubal Cain, who was perhaps equally criminal in inventing
-the liveliest source of human torture,” replied James gravely. “Yes,
-I was thinking--suggested by the mention of Cain--how strange people
-nowadays would regard my father's intentions regarding my future when
-he assumed that I should have the best chance for cultivating my bent,
-which he had early recognized in me, by sending me, before it became too
-late, to be educated for the profession to an accomplished murderer.”
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER X
-
-|YOUNG Mr. Barlowe started so violently that he spilt his tea over his
-knees; for just before James had uttered his last sentence the music
-stopped, but as it had been somewhat loud in the final bars, and James
-had raised his voice in the same proportion, the inertia of his tone
-defied any attempt to modulate it, so that it was almost with a shout
-that he had declared that he had been sent to be educated in his
-profession to a murderer.
-
-Fanny was too much overcome by the ludicrous aspect of the contretemps
-to be able to laugh. Her brother, who had had no intention of startling
-anyone in the room except young Mr. Barlowe, hung his head and was
-blushing under the South Sea tan of his skin; Sir Joshua Reynolds had
-heard nothing after the crashing chords that concluded the duet; but
-poor Miss Reynolds almost sprang from her chair in horror.
-
-Mrs. Burney was very angry.
-
-“You have been making a fool of yourself as usual, James,” she cried.
-“Pray give Mr. Barlowe another cup of tea, Fanny. I vow that 'tis a
-shame for you, James Burney, to treat such a company as though you were
-on the deck of the _Adventure_ facing your South Sea savages.”
-
-But Dr. Burney, with his customary tact, raised a hand half reprovingly
-toward his wife.
-
-“Give Mr. Barlowe his cup, and then pass one to me, Fanny,” he said,
-rising from the piano. “You know that James has spoken no more than
-the truth, my dear,” he added, smiling at his wife. “I can see that the
-rascal has been fooling while our backs were turned to him; but we know
-that he spoke no more than the truth--at least in that one sentence
-which he bawled out for us. He was, indeed, sent to a school where he
-was placed under an accomplished usher who was some time after hanged
-as a murderer. You see, madam----” he had turned, still smiling, to Miss
-Reynolds, thereby doing much to restore her confidence in the sanity of
-the family--“You see that James was from the first so desperate a young
-rascal that, just as a boy who is an adept at figures is educated for
-the counting-house, and one who spends all the day before he is six
-picking out tunes on the harpsichord should be apprenticed, as I was, to
-a musician, so we thought our James should be sent whither he could
-be properly grounded in the only profession at which he was likely to
-excel. But, alas! the poor usher was carried off by the police, tried at
-the next assizes and duly hanged before James had made much progress in
-his studies; but I believe that a few years in the navy does as much
-for a youth who has made up his mind to succeed, as a protracted course
-under a fully qualified criminal.”
-
-Miss Reynolds looked as if she were not quite certain that, in spite of
-his smiles, Dr. Burney was jesting; but when Mrs. Burney, seeing how her
-husband's mock seriousness was likely to produce a wrong impression upon
-plain people, said:
-
-“You must recall hearing about Mr. Eugene Aram some years back, Mrs.
-Reynolds,” that lady showed that her mind was greatly relieved.
-
-“I recall the matter without difficulty,” she said. “The man was usher
-at the grammar school at Lynn.”
-
-“And no school had a more learned teacher than that unfortunate man,”
- said Sir Joshua. Young Mr. Barlowe had been divided in his amazement
-at what Dr. Burney had said, and at the sight of Sir Joshua holding the
-trumpet to his ear, though the instrument remained mute. He had never
-found himself within the circle of so startling a society. He wished
-himself safe at home in the Poultry, where people talked sense and made
-no attempt to blow a trumpet with their ears.
-
-“James had acquired quite a liking for poor Aram,” said Dr. Burney,
-“and, indeed, I own to having had a high opinion of the man's ability
-myself. It was to enable him to purchase books necessary for his studies
-in philology that he killed his victim--a contemptible curmudgeon named
-Johnstone. I fear that all our sympathy was on the side of the usher.”
-
-“I was greatly interested in Mr. Aram, and read a full account of his
-trial,” said Sir Joshua.
-
-“I wonder that a man of so sensitive a mind as his did not so brood over
-his crime as to cause suspicion to fall on him earlier than it did.”
-
-“Only upon one occasion it seemed that he was affected by an incident
-which might possibly have awakened some suspicion in the mind of a
-person given to suspicion,” said Dr. Burney.
-
-“James had been presented with a copy of the translation of Gessner's
-'Death of Abel'--everyone was going mad about the book that year--more
-copies were sold of it than of any translation since Pope's 'Homer,' but
-I fancy James found it dull enough reading. He had it on his knee trying
-to get through a page or two in case the kind donor might question him
-upon it, when the usher came up. He took the volume in his hand and
-glanced at the title. Down the book fell from his grasp and he hurried
-away without a word--'as if he had been stung,' James said, in telling
-us about it, to excuse the broken cover. Of course, I never gave a
-thought to the matter at the time; but when I heard of the arrest of
-Eugene Aram the following year, I recalled the incident.”
-
-“I should like to make a picture of the scene, and name it 'Remorse,'”
- said Reynolds.
-
-(_He never did make such a picture; many years had passed, and Lieutenant
-Burney had become an Admiral before his narration of the incident
-touched the imagination of a poet who dealt with it in verse that has
-thrilled a good many readers._)
-
-Thomas Barlowe was not greatly thrilled by the story as told by Dr.
-Burney. He seemed rather shocked to find himself at the table with
-someone who had been taught by a murderer. He glanced furtively at James
-Burney, who had remained silent since the contretemps that had prevented
-him from perfecting his fooling of Thomas; and the result of Thomas's
-scrutiny at that moment was to cause Thomas a tremor; for who could say
-what fearful knowledge Lieutenant Burney might have acquired during
-his intercourse with the murderer--knowledge which might jeopardize the
-safety of a simple visitor like himself? Thomas felt that no ordinary
-person could be accounted absolutely safe in a company that included a
-tall, able-bodied young naval man who had begun his education under a
-murderer and had gone to complete it among the cannibals of the South
-Seas; and, in addition, an elderly gentleman who fancied that he could
-bring any sound out of a trumpet by pressing it to his ear instead of
-his lips, and had shown himself ready to extol the scholarship of any
-man who had been hanged.
-
-But then Thomas looked at Fanny, and she pleased him more than ever. She
-was so demure, so modest, so shy. She had a very pretty blush, and she
-did not play on the piano. It was a thousand pities, he felt, that such
-a girl should be compelled to remain in such uncongenial companionship.
-All the time that Dr. Burney and his other daughter were playing a
-second duet, and the silly gentleman holding the bell of his trumpet
-to the case of the piano, still fondly believing that he was also a
-performer with the mouth-piece in his ear, Thomas Barlowe was feeling
-wave after wave of pity passing over him for the unhappy position of
-the shy girl in the midst of so doubtful a household. Before long his
-compassion for her so stimulated his imagination that he began to think
-of the possibility of his rescuing her--he began to think of himself in
-the character of a hero--he did not remember the name of any particular
-hero who had carried off a young woman who was placed in a similar
-situation to that occupied by Miss Burney; but he had no doubt that more
-than one romance was founded upon the doings of such a man as he felt
-himself fully qualified to be, if he made up his mind to assume such a
-rôle.
-
-As the music continued--it was an arrangement of Bach's _Orfèo_--Thomas
-Barlowe became more and more resolute. He would be the heroic person who
-should appear at the right moment and achieve the emancipation of that
-sweet and shy girl, who by no fault of hers was forced to live in that
-house and remain, if she could, on friendly terms with her father and
-sisters, who kept strumming on the piano, and with her brother, who was
-ready to boast of having received the rudiments of his education from
-a murderer. All that he needed was the opportunity to show his heroism,
-and he did not doubt that when he set his mind to work on the matter, he
-would have such an opportunity.
-
-If anyone had whispered in his ear that his inward consciousness of
-being equal to the doing of great deeds was solely due to the music
-which was being played, and to which he was unwillingly listening, he
-would have been indignant. He would have thought it preposterous had it
-been suggested to him that the effect of that strumming was to make him
-feel more like a god than a man--to be ready to face hell for the love
-of a woman, as Jean Sebastian Bach imagined Orpheus doing for Eurydice.
-But Jean Sebastian Bach knew what he was about when he had composed his
-_Orfèo_, and Dr. Burney was quite equal to the business of interpreting
-his aims, and of urging his daughter Susan to join with him in
-impressing them upon even so unimpressionable a nature as that of Thomas
-Barlowe; so that while Thomas Barlowe believed that this music was one
-of the most petty of all human interests, it was making him think
-such thoughts as had never before entered his mind--it was giving him
-aspirations from which in ordinary circumstances he would have shrunk.
-
-The master musician and his interpreters were making sport of him,
-leading him if not quite into the region of the heroic, at least to the
-boundary of that region, and supplying him with a perspective glass, as
-the Interpreter did to the Pilgrims, by the aid of which he might see
-the wonderful things that had been beyond his natural scope.
-
-And that was how it came about that he gazed into Miss Burney's eyes and
-pressed her hand at parting with a tenderness he had never previously
-associated with his leave-taking. He felt sure that Miss Burney would
-understand what he meant, though he knew that he would have difficulty
-in expressing it all to her in words; for the effect of the music was
-to make him feel that he could put so much feeling into a look, into
-a squeeze of the hand, as would touch the heart of any young woman and
-cause her to be certain that she might trust him though all other help
-might fail her.
-
-That was the effect which the heroic music had upon him, though he did
-not know it; it made him feel willing to face hell for her sake at that
-moment, and even until he had walked through more than a mile of the
-network of streets that lay between Leicester Fields and the Poultry.
-
-But the effect of such an intoxicant as music upon such a nature as his
-is not lasting. Before he had reached Cheapside his own individuality
-was beginning to assert itself; and he wondered if he had not gone too
-far for discretion--discretion being, according to his reckoning, the
-power to withdraw from a position that might compromise him. And before
-he reached his home he had got the length of wondering how he had so far
-forgotten himself as to yield to that compromising impulse represented
-by the gaze and the squeeze. He could not for the life of him understand
-what had come over him at that moment; for he had by no means satisfied
-himself that Miss Burney was the young woman who would make him
-comfortable as his wife. He still thought highly of her on account of
-her modesty and her dainty shyness, but marriage was a serious matter,
-and he was not sure that he should take her for his wife.
-
-On the whole, he felt that he had had a very trying evening--between the
-Lieutenant who had so nearly qualified to practise as a murderer, and
-the father and daughter who seemed ready to strum their duets until
-midnight, to say nothing of the foolish gentleman who tried to play
-the trumpet with his ear; and Thomas made up his mind that he would not
-trust himself into the midst of so unusual a circle until he was certain
-that he wanted to marry the young woman whose hand he had, for some
-reason or other, pressed at parting.
-
-But Mrs. Burney had noticed much more clearly than Fanny had done the
-expression that the face of Thomas Barlowe had worn when he had looked
-into the girl's eyes; she had measured to the fraction of a second the
-duration of his holding of her hand beyond the time essential for
-the discharge of the ordinary courtesy of a hand-shake; and she was
-satisfied that Thomas was progressing in his wooing of the least
-attractive and certainly the least accomplished member of the family.
-The good woman thought, however, that it was rather a pity that her
-husband and Susan had persisted in the practice of their duets; for by
-doing so they had not given a chance to Thomas and Fanny of being alone
-together.
-
-But, looking back upon the incidents of the evening, she came to the
-conclusion that, on the whole, she had no reason to complain of the
-progress that was being made in the young man's wooing. She was no
-believer in undue haste in this respect; and had not Thomas looked into
-Fanny's eyes at the close of the evening? Yes, at the close; and that
-proved to her satisfaction that he had not suffered discouragement by
-the maladroit conversation about Mr. Eugene Aram. The unhappy episode
-upon which her husband had dwelt with far too great attention to its
-details, was one to which she herself had never alluded; for at Lynn,
-where she had lived all her life previous to being married to Dr.
-Burney, the Eugene Aram episode was regarded as a scandal to be ignored
-by those of the inhabitants whose children had attended the school where
-he had been usher. It was a distinctly favourable sign of the impression
-made upon young Mr. Barlowe by Fanny, that he had gazed into her eyes in
-spite of his having been made aware of the connection of the family with
-the tragedy of that wretched schoolmaster. Mrs. Burney took no account
-of the effect of Bach's marvellous music upon a young man who was a
-lover in the rough. In this respect, as has been indicated, she did not
-differ from the young man himself.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XI
-
-|IT was at the Pantheon in the Oxford Road a fortnight later, that Mrs.
-Thrale, the brewer's lively wife, had an opportunity of shining, by a
-display of that _esprit_ which caused Mr. Garrick to affirm solemnly
-that if she had gone upon the stage she would have been a dangerous
-rival to Mistress Clive; and Fanny Burney, with her father and Mr.
-Linley, the father of the beautiful Mrs. Sheridan, was a witness of the
-ease with which the lady sparkled as she described for the benefit of
-the circle how Mr. Garrick's jest at the expense of poor Mr. Kendal and
-the Widow Nash had set all the Wells laughing. She imitated Mr. Garrick
-to his face, in offering his congratulations to Mr. Kendal and so
-setting the ball a-rolling until within an hour the poor, silly
-gentleman had been offered the felicitations of half the Wells upon his
-engagement to Widow Nash. Mrs. Thrale re-enacted with great gravity
-the part she had played in Mr. Garrick's plot, and then she hastened
-to imitate Mrs. Cholmondeley's part, and even Mr. Sheridan's, upon that
-lively morning at Tunbridge Wells.
-
-But there was much more to tell, and Mrs. Thrale took very good care to
-abate nothing of her narrative; it gave her so good a chance of acting,
-and it gave Mr. Garrick so good a chance of complimenting her before all
-the company.
-
-“Oh, I vow that we played our parts to perfection,” she cried, “and
-without any rehearsal either. But then what happened? You will scarce
-believe it, Mr. Garrick has always borne such a character for scrupulous
-honour in his dealings with his companies, but indeed 'tis a fact that
-our manager decamped as soon as he found that the poor man had been
-teased to the verge of madness by the fooling he had started--off he
-went, we knew not whither; leaving no message for any of us. He was not
-to be found by noon; and what happened by dinner-time? Why, the poor
-gentleman whom we had been fooling had also fled!”
-
-“That was indeed too bad of Mr. Kendal,” said Dr. Burney.
-
-“'Twas too inconsiderate of him truly,” cried Mrs. Thrale. “'Tis no
-great matter if the manager of the playhouse runs away when his play
-is produced--you remember that Mr. Colman hurried off to Bath to escape
-lampooners when the success of Dr. Goldsmith's comedy _She Stoops to
-Conquer_ had proved to all the town that he was no judge of a play;
-but for the one who has been made the object of such a jest as ours to
-escape without giving us a chance of bringing our teasing to a fitting
-climax is surely little short of infamous.”
-
-“And when did you design the fitting climax to arrive, madam?” asked one
-of the circle.
-
-“Why, when the gentleman and lady should come face to face in the
-Assembly Rooms, to be sure,” replied Mrs. Thrale. “We were all there to
-await the scene of their meeting; and you can judge of our chagrin when
-only the lady appeared.”
-
-“We can do so, indeed,” said Mrs. Darner, who was also in the circle. “I
-can well believe that you were furious. When one has arranged a burletta
-for two characters 'tis infamous when only one of the actors appears on
-the stage.”
-
-Mrs. Thrale smiled the smile of the lady who knows that she is
-harbouring a surprise for her friends and only awaits the right moment
-to spring it upon them--a cat to be let out of the bag at the pulling of
-a string.
-
-“I knew that we should have your sympathy, Mrs. Darner,” she said
-demurely. “You have, I doubt not, more than once experienced all the
-chagrin that follows the miscarrying of a well-planned scheme. But as
-it so happened, we were more than compensated for our ill-usage at that
-time by the unlooked-for appearance of the missing actor two nights
-later.”
-
-“Oh, lud!” cried Mrs. Darner, holding up both her hands in a very dainty
-way.
-
-Mr. Garrick also lifted up his hands in amazement, but he did not need
-to exclaim anything to emphasize the effect of his gesture.
-
-Dr. Burney smiled, trying to catch the eye of Mr. Garrick, but Mr.
-Garrick took very good care that he should not succeed in doing so.
-
-“You may well cry, 'oh, lud!'” said Mrs. Thrale. “But if you had been
-in the Rooms when the man entered you would not have been able to say a
-word for surprise, I promise you. The poor gentleman had posted all the
-way from town to Tunbridge, apparently for our diversion only, and what
-a sight he was! It seems that he had got over his fright at the coupling
-of his name with the lady's, while flying to London, but from this point
-a reaction set in, and he spent all the time that he was posting back to
-the Wells adding fuel to the fire of his resolution to throw himself
-at the feet of the lady at the earliest possible moment. Was there ever
-such a comedy played, Mr. Garrick?”
-
-“'Twould be too extravagant for the theatre, madam, but not for Nature's
-playhouse,” replied Garrick. “I have more than once been told the story
-of soldiers having fled in a panic from the field of battle, but on
-finding themselves in a place of safety they returned to the fight and
-fought like demons. Was there aught that could be termed demoniacal
-in the gentleman's conduct on finding himself face to face with the
-enemy--I mean the lady?”
-
-“Aught demoniacal, do you ask me?” cried Mrs. Thrale. “Oh, sir, have
-you not heard the parable of the demon that was cast out of a man, but
-finding its homeless condition unsupportable, sought out seven of its
-friends and returned with them to its former habitation, so that the
-last state of the man was more demoniacal than the first?”
-
-“I fancy I have heard the parable, madam, but its application----” began
-Garrick, when Mrs.
-
-Darner broke in upon him, crying:
-
-“Do not ever attempt to point out the aptness of the application of
-a parable, Mrs. Thrale. Do not, if you are wise. Would you lead us to
-believe that the unhappy wretch found it necessary to post up to town
-to obtain his relay of demons for his own discomfiture when so much rank
-and fashion was at the Wells, though at the fag end of the season?”
-
-“Leaving parables aside, demons and all, I can bear witness to
-the condition of the man when he entered the Rooms and strode with
-determination on his face up to where the Widow Nash was fanning
-herself--not without need,” said Mrs. Thrale. “It so happened that she
-was seated under the gallery at the furthest end of the Rooms, but our
-gentleman did not pause on entering to look round for her--I tell you
-that it seemed as if he went by instinct straight up to her, and bowing
-before her, said: 'Madam, may I beg the honour of a word or two with you
-in private?'--I was close by and so were several other equally credible
-witnesses, and we heard every word. The widow looked at him coolly----”
-
-“Yes, you said she had been fanning herself,” remarked Mrs. Darner, but
-without interrupting the flow of the narrative.
-
-“There was no need of a fan for her voice, I can assure you, when she
-had completed her survey of the dusty gentleman and thought fit to
-reply to him,” continued Mrs. Thrale. “'I vow, sir,' said she, 'that I
-consider this room sufficiently private for anything you have to say
-to me.' She had plainly got wind of Mr. Garrick's plot and so was fully
-prepared for the worst--though some people might call it the best--that
-could happen. 'Madam,' said Mr. Kendal, 'what I have to say is meant for
-your ear alone,' and I am bound to admit that he spoke with suavity
-and dignity. 'Pray let my friends here be the judges of that,' said the
-widow. That was a pretty rebuff for any gentleman with a sense of his
-own dignity, you will say; but he did not seem to accept it in such a
-spirit. He hesitated, but only for a few moments, then he looked around
-him to see who were within hearing, and with hardly a pause, he said in
-the clearest of tones, 'I perceive that we are surrounded just now with
-some ladies who, two days ago, offered me congratulations upon my good
-fortune in winning your promise, madam; and I venture now to come
-before you to implore of you to give me permission to assume that their
-congratulations were well founded'--those were his words; we did not
-think that he had it in him to express himself so well.”
-
-“And what was the lady's reply?” asked Dr. Burney, recalling the
-prophecy in which he had indulged when parting from Garrick at his own
-door.
-
-“The lady's reply was disappointing, though dignified,” replied Mrs.
-Thrale. “'Sir,' she said, 'I have oft heard that the credulity of a man
-has no limits, but I have never before had so conspicuous an instance of
-the truth of this. Surely the merest schoolboy would have been able to
-inform you that you were being made the victim of one of Mr. Garrick's
-silly jests--that these ladies here lent themselves to the transaction,
-hoping to make a fool of me as well as of you; but I trust that they
-are now aware of the fact that I, at least, perceived the truth from the
-first, so that whoever has been fooled I am not that person; and so
-I have the honour to wish you and them a very good evening.' Then she
-treated us to a very elaborate curtsey and stalked away to the door,
-leaving us all amazed at her display of dignity--real dignity, not the
-stage imitation, Mr. Garrick.”
-
-“You should have been there, if only to receive a lesson, Mr. Garrick,”
- said Mrs. Damer.
-
-“I hope those who had the good fortune to be present were taught a
-lesson,” said another lady in the circle.
-
-“If you mean me, madam,” said Mrs. Thrale, with tactful good humour,
-“I frankly allow that I profited greatly by observing the scene. 'Tis
-a dangerous game to play--that of trying to show others in a ridiculous
-light, and in future I vow that all my attention shall be given to the
-duty of avoiding making a fool of myself. Your jest miscarried, Mr.
-Garrick; though how that gentleman who fled from the Wells in that
-headlong fashion was induced to return, is beyond my knowledge.”
-
-“Psha! madam, the fellow is a coxcomb and not worth discussing,” cried
-Garrick. “He got no more than his deserts when the lady left him to be
-the laughing-stock of the Assembly. I knew that that would be his fate
-if he ever succeeded in summing up sufficient courage to face her.”
-
-“But strange to say, we did not laugh at him then,” said Mrs. Thrale.
-“He seemed to be quite a different man from the one whom we had tried
-to fool two days earlier. There was a certain dignity about him that
-disarmed us. You must allow, Mr. Garrick, that only the bravest of men
-would have had the courage to march up the Assembly Rooms and make his
-proposal to the lady in public.”
-
-“That is the courage of the coxcomb who believes himself to be
-irresistible to the other sex, madam,” said Garrick; “and I affirm that
-'twas most reprehensible to refrain from laughing at him.” Then, putting
-his arm through that of Burney as if to stroll on with him, and so
-give the others to understand that he had had enough of Mr. Kendal as a
-topic, he whispered:
-
-“Ha, my friend, did not I prophesy aright what would be the fellow's
-fate? I know men, and women, too--ay, in some measure, though they are
-sealed books, eh, friend Burney? And you tried to persuade me that she
-would not snub him? I knew better--I knew that she--eh, what--what are
-they staring at?”
-
-“They are staring at the appearance of Mr. Kendal with the Widow Nash on
-his arm--there they are, David, and you are staring at them too,” said
-Burney with a smile.
-
-“Angels and Ministers of Grace! 'Tis a man and his wife we are staring
-at! The woman has married him after all!” cried David, his hand dropping
-limply from Burney's shoulder. “A man and his wife: I know the look in
-their faces!”
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XII
-
-|IT was, indeed, the same man who had come to consult Dr. Burney, but
-had not been allowed the chance of doing so by Garrick, a fortnight
-before--the same man, but with a marked difference, who was now walking
-across the pillared room in the Pantheon, with a smiling, well-favoured
-lady by his side; and toward the pair the eyes of all the circle whom
-Mrs. Thrale had been addressing were directed.
-
-Mrs. Thrale and her friends were too much amazed to be able to speak,
-but the lips of every one of them were holding back some exclamation of
-surprise: an acute observer would have been able easily to set down the
-various unuttered exclamations of the party, from the simple “Oh,
-Lud!” of Mrs. Thrale to the more emphatic “Merciful Powers!” of Mrs.
-Cholmondeley, though not a word was spoken between them, while Mr.
-Kendal and the lady walked, straight through the room to where they were
-standing.
-
-“Slip behind the pillar: I will cover you, my friend,” whispered Dr.
-Burney to Garrick.
-
-But Garrick had no intention of doing anything so ignominious--more
-especially as he perceived that Mr. Kendal had caught sight of him; and
-it was really Garrick who advanced to meet the couple, with the air of
-a host about to welcome two long-expected guests--it was really Garrick
-who received them with one of his finest bows, and who--to add to the
-amazement of the group behind him--was greeted by Mr. Kendal and the
-lady with the friendliest of smiles (the lady was blushing, not Mr.
-Garrick).
-
-And then it was to Dr. Burney the gentleman turned.
-
-“Dear sir,” he cried, “with what words should I approach you? It is to
-your counsel and Mr. Garrick's that I owe my happiness.” Then he made
-his bow to the others of the group.
-
-“Mrs. Thrale,” he said, when he had recovered himself, “we hoped to find
-you here with your friends, so that we might lose no moment in offering
-you our thanks for the tactful way in which you brought us together.
-Only such genius as yours, madam, could have perceived--well, all
-that you did perceive. I protest that neither Mrs. Kendal nor myself
-apprehended the too flattering truth. But the heart of a woman who has
-herself loved--ah, that is the source of such genius as you displayed
-with such subtlety. She is mine, madam; we have been married a whole
-week, and I, at least, know what a treasure--but I cannot trust myself
-to talk of my happiness just now. Perhaps at some future time I shall
-be able to tell you coherently how I felt within me that my Diana--Mrs.
-Nash, as she was then--did not mean her rebuff as a final dismissal, and
-thus I was led to her side--to implore an audience of her, in the course
-of which she confessed to me that----”
-
-But his bride prevented the flow of his eloquence by tapping him under
-the chin in exquisite playfulness with her fan, smiling roguishly at him
-first, and then looking round the group with an air of chastened triumph
-while she said:
-
-“Foolish man! Prithee remember, Ferdinand, that you are in a public
-place, and that the secrets of the confessional are sacred. I protest
-that you are exceeding a husband's privilege in revealing aught that I
-confessed when taken aback at your sudden appearance before me!”
-
-“I ask your pardon, my angel,” he cried. “I had no right to say even the
-little that I have said. I suppose I shall learn discretion in time and
-with practice. But when I think of the kindly interest that some of our
-friends here showed in bringing us together, I feel that they should be
-rewarded by a repetition of the whole story.”
-
-“Nay, nay, sir, you may take my word for it that we look not for such a
-reward,” cried Garrick. “Such philanthropists as Mrs. Thrale and myself
-feel more than rewarded when we succeed in bringing together a lady and
-gentleman who were so plainly intended by Providence for each other's
-happiness.”
-
-“It was Mr. Garrick who looked with the eyes of Providence into your
-case as associated with Mr. Kendal, madam. That is, if Puck may ever be
-thought of as assuming the rôle of Providence,” said Mrs. Thrale. “For
-myself, I believe that Puck has more to do with the making of matches
-than heaven; and assuredly in this particular case the mischievous fairy
-had more than a finger. But however that may be, we can still wish you
-every happiness in life, and offer you an apology for----”
-
-“H'sh!” whispered Garrick, raising a hand. “Rauzzini is beginning to
-sing. I am sure, Mrs. Kendal, that you will willingly accept Signor
-Rauzzini's song in lieu of Mrs. Thrale's apology, however admirably
-worded the latter were sure to be.”
-
-The bride smiled benignly at Mrs. Thrale, and there was more than a
-trace of triumph in her smile.
-
-Dr. Burney smiled also at the adroitness of the actor, who, he could
-perceive, had no intention of allowing himself to be incriminated by any
-confession, assuming the form of an apology, that Mrs. Thrale might make
-in a moment of contrition for having been a partner with him in a piece
-of fooling that had had a very different result from the one he (and
-she) had looked for.
-
-Garrick, still holding up a warning finger as if he had at heart the
-best interests of the composer as well as the singer of “Waft her,
-Angels,” prevented another word from being spoken, though more than a
-full minute had passed before Rauzzini had breathed the first notes of
-the recitativo.
-
-But incautiously lowering his finger when the handsome Roman had begun,
-Mrs. Thrale took advantage of her release from the thraldom imposed upon
-her, to say in a low tone, looking toward the gallery in front of which
-the singer stood:
-
-“It is one angel talking to the others! Was there ever so angelic a
-man?”
-
-And little Miss Burney, who had also her eyes fixed upon the singer,
-felt that little Mrs. Thrale was not merely an angel, but a goddess. She
-expressed her opinion to this effect in her next letter to Mr. Crisp.
-
-She listened in a dream to the singing that no one could hear and remain
-unmoved, even though one had not the advantage of looking at the singer
-at the same time. Fanny Burney was too shortsighted to be able to
-distinguish one face from another at such a distance; but this made
-no difference to her; she had the face of the sweet singer ever before
-her--most clearly when she closed her eyes, as she did now, and listened
-to him.
-
-“Waft her, angels, to the skies--Waft her, angels, waft her, angels,
-waft her to the skies,” rang out his fervent imploration, and she felt
-that there were no powers that could withstand the force of such an
-appeal. For herself she felt carried away on the wings of song into the
-highest heaven. She felt that harps of heaven alone could provide an
-adequate accompaniment to such a voice as his; and she gave herself up
-to it as unreservedly as a bride gives herself to the arms of her lover.
-She had that sensation of a sweet yielding to the divine influence of
-the music until she could feel it enfolding her and bearing her into the
-infinite azure of a realm more beautiful than any that her dreams had
-borne her to in the past. She wanted nothing better than this in any
-world. All that she wanted was an assurance that it would continue for
-ever and ever....
-
-With the cessation of the singing she seemed to awaken from a dream of
-divine delight, and in her awaking to retain the last thought that had
-been hers--the longing for an assurance that the delight which she was
-feeling would endure. She was awake now, and she knew that love had been
-all her dream, and that what she longed for was the assurance that
-that love would continue. And now she remembered that it was this same
-longing that had brought about her resolution that she would never go to
-her King as the beggar maid had gone to King Cophetua. There would be
-no assurance of the continuing of love between them if she had the
-humiliating feeling that he had stooped to raise her to his level.
-
-That was the thought which took possession of her mind when she had
-returned from the sublimities to which she had been borne by her lover's
-singing, and in another minute the reaction had come. She had been
-soaring high, but now she was conscious of a sinking at heart; for the
-whole building was resounding with acclamations of the singer. There did
-not seem to be anyone silent, save only herself, throughout the hall.
-Everyone seemed calling the name of Rauzzini--all seemed ready to
-throw themselves at his feet; and when he stood up to acknowledge their
-tribute of enthusiasm to his marvellous powers, there was something of
-frenzy in the way his name was flung from hundreds of voices--it was
-not enough for the people whom he had stirred to shout his name, they
-surrounded him with the banners of a great conqueror--the air was
-quivering with the lace and the silk that were being waved on all sides
-to do him honour--handkerchiefs, scarves, fans--the air was full of
-them.
-
-And there he stood high above them, smiling calmly and bending his head
-gravely to right and left in acknowledgment of all....
-
-That was his position before the world. Her heart sank within her as she
-asked herself what was hers. How could she ever hope to attain to such a
-place as should win from the world such applause as this? How could
-she ever be so vain as to think that the giving of a little book to
-the world should have an effect worthy of being compared with this
-demonstration which was shaking the Pantheon?
-
-Her heart sank to a deeper depth still when the thunders had passed
-away--reluctantly as the reverberations of a great storm--and there was
-a buzz of voices all about her--exclamations of delight--whispers of
-admiration--ladies with clasped hands, fervent in their words about the
-marvellous face of the young Roman--and her father and his friend, Mr.
-Fulke Greville, exchanging recollections of the singing of the same air
-by other vocalists, and coming gradually to the conclusion that none had
-put such feeling into it as had Rauzzini.
-
-The buzz of voices did not cease when the singer had come down from his
-gallery and was greeting some of his friends on the floor of the great
-hall. He had trouble in making his way as far as the group which he
-meant to reach. The most distinguished ladies of high quality had
-pressed round him with uncritical expressions of appreciation of his
-singing, and there was no lack of gentlemen of fashion to follow their
-example, though wondering greatly that the ladies of quality should
-allow themselves to show such transports respecting a man with no trait
-of a true-born Englishman about him. Signor Rauzzini might have indulged
-in a score of pinches of snuff out of the gold and enamelled boxes that
-were thrust forward for his acceptance with the finest artificial grace
-of a period when it was not thought effeminate to be graceful over small
-things.
-
-He bowed low to the ladies of quality, and smiled his polite rejection
-of the snuff of the gentlemen of fashion. But such convenances made it
-impossible for him to keep his eyes upon the group toward which he
-was making a necessarily slow way, and he only reached the side of Dr.
-Burney to find that Dr. Burney's daughter had disappeared. He had no
-chance of seeing how Miss Burney at his approach had slipped behind
-a pillar and suffered herself to be conducted thence to a seat by her
-cousin Edward: the fact that Edward was learning to be a painter was a
-sufficient excuse for his paying an occasional visit to such scenes
-of colour as were unfolded before the eyes of a frequenter of the
-fashionable Pantheon every night.
-
-Fanny felt that if Signor Rauzzini had come to her side after passing
-through the ranks of lace and velvet and brocade, she would have sunk
-through the floor of the hall. But she knew that it was to her side he
-was coming, and she took the opportunity of flying when he was compelled
-to make a pause in front of the flattery of the Duchess of Ancaster.
-
-She was painfully shy at all times, but overwhelmingly so at that
-moment, though she knew that she was the only woman in the place who
-would make the attempt to evade the distinction which threatened her.
-How could she remain where she had been with all eyes in the room upon
-her? She felt that it would be impossible.
-
-Her heart was beating quickly as she thought:
-
-“Not yet--not yet.”
-
-After all there is no more womanly trait than that of fleeing from a
-lover; but Fanny Burney was yielding to its impulse without an attempt
-to analyse it, and without being consoled by the reflection of the
-woman of the younger world, that if it is woman's instinct to fly from a
-lover, it is a lover's instinct to pursue.
-
-She had scarcely finished the cup of ice which her cousin had brought
-her, before the man had found her.
-
-But now the Gabrielli was beginning to sing, and all eyes were directed
-upon the Gabrielli, so that no one but Rauzzini saw how Dr. Burney's
-over-shy daughter was flushing.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XIII
-
-|THEY spoke in French, with an occasional phrase in Italian when they
-found the other tongue lacking in melody or in the exact shade of
-meaning that they sought to express. Edward Burney thought that the
-moment was one that favoured his ambition to study the pose of Madame
-Gabrielli, with a view to starting on a portrait that should make him
-famous. He asked Fanny's permission to allow him to take up a place
-a few yards beyond the pillar. He promised not to be long absent, and
-Fanny had not the heart to detain him.
-
-“You fled from me--was that kind?” asked Rauzzini when the cousin had
-moved away, but was still in view.
-
-“Ah,” said she, “one who has my odious selfconsciousness does not ask
-what is kind or unkind, she simply flies.”
-
-“But you knew that I was coming to your side?” said he.
-
-“I know that you are wise enough to value the criticism of a musician
-like my father above the vapid phrases of the people of fashion,”
- replied Fanny.
-
-“That is true indeed,” said he. “I value a word of praise or blame from
-Dr. Burney as precious. But Dr. Burney has a daughter whose words are to
-me as precious.”
-
-“She is not here to-night,” said Fanny. “My sister Esther, to whom you
-refer, is indeed a discriminating critic. She told me how exquisitely
-you sang at the concert where you met her--it is scarcely a fortnight
-ago.”
-
-“Dr. Burney has more daughters than that one,” said he.
-
-Fanny laughed.
-
-“He has indeed more daughters than one,” she said. “We were a household
-of daughters before Esther married and when my brother was in the South
-Seas. But only Esther is critical as a musician.”
-
-“In the name of heaven, do you think that it is only possible for me to
-value words that refer to my singing?” he asked. “Do you not know that I
-would rather listen to your voice than----”
-
-“Than Madame Gabrielli's?” said Fanny; he had spoken his last sentence
-in too loud a tone, even though the Gabrielli's brilliant vocalism
-usually admitted of a conversation being carried on with some vehemence
-in the great room of the Pantheon without causing remark.
-
-He smiled at her warning, and it was in a subdued voice that he said:
-
-“I am tired of hearing the Gabrielli; but what of your voice? How often
-have you given me the chance of hearing it? Even now you fled from me as
-though I carried the plague about with me! Was that kind or unkind?”
-
-“You do not entertain the thought that perhaps I have not yet tired
-of Madame Gabrielli's vocalism: I knew that she was at the point of
-beginning her aria.”
-
-“You would sacrifice me on the altar of your favourite? Well, perhaps
-you would be justified in doing so. Hold up your finger now and I shall
-be mute as a fish until Gabrielli has had her last shriek. I can still
-look at you--it will not spoil your appreciation of the aria if I merely
-look at you.”
-
-“I think I would rather that you talked to me than merely looked at me.
-I do not invite people to look at me, and happily few people do. I am
-not conspicuous. I am the insignificant one. There is Mrs. Thrale, for
-instance; she has been several times at our house, and every time she
-comes she inquires who is the little one.”
-
-He smiled and held up his finger in imitation of the way she had rebuked
-him for talking too loud.
-
-“H'sh; I am anxious to hear the Signora Gabrielli,” he said, and the
-express on that he made his face assume at that moment would
-have convinced anyone that he was giving all his attention to the
-singing--drinking in every note with the earnestness of an enthusiast.
-There was a certain boyish exaggeration in his expression that was very
-amusing to Fanny, though less observing persons would have been ready
-to accept it as evidence of the generous appreciation on the part of one
-great singer of the success of another.
-
-So he remained until the _cavatina_ had come to an end; and then he was
-loudest in his cry of “Brava!”
-
-“It is a treat--a great--a sacred treat,” said he, turning to Fanny. “I
-do not think I ever heard that song before. Has it a name, I wonder?”
-
-“If I mistake not it is from an opera in which a certain Roman tenore
-made a name for himself last year, in happy conjunction with Madame
-Gabrielli,” said Fanny.
-
-“Is it possible? I had not heard of that circumstance,” said he, with a
-look of the most charming innocence in his large eyes. It was his hands
-that were most expressive, however, as he added:
-
-“But it was last year, you say, mademoiselle? Ah, who is it that
-remembers an opera from one year to another? No one, except the
-_impresario_ who has lost his good money, or somebody's else's money,
-over its production. Enough, the _cantatrice_ has given us of her best,
-and is there now any reason why we should remain dumb? The great charm
-of the singing of these brilliant artistes of last year's operas is that
-when they have sung, they have sung--they leave one nothing to think
-about afterward. Is not that so, mademoiselle?”
-
-“They leave one nothing to think about--except their singing,” said
-Fanny. “For myself, I am still thinking of 'Waft her, angels,' although
-nearly half an hour must have passed since I heard the last notes. And
-it seems to me that when half a century will have passed I shall still
-be thinking of it.”
-
-He did not offer her the conventional acknowledgement of a bow. He
-only looked at her with those large eyes of his; they were capable of
-expressing in a single glance all the tenderness of feeling of a poem.
-
-“I have not sung in vain,” he said in a low tone. “My old _maestro_ gave
-me the advice one day when I was proving to him my success in reaching
-the high note which I had been striving for years to bring into my
-compass: 'That is all very well,' he said. 'You have aimed at touching
-that rare note, now your aim must be to touch the heart of everyone who
-hears you sing.' I sometimes think that he set for me too difficult a
-task.”
-
-“Not too difficult--for you,” said she.
-
-“There are dangers,” he said thoughtfully. “I have known singers who
-tried to reach the hearts of their hearers by tricks--yes, and they
-succeeded through these illegitimate means in making themselves popular,
-while far better singers who had a scorn of such tricks and gave their
-best to all who listened to them, failed to please anyone who had not a
-knowledge of the true boundary of music.”
-
-“I have seen these tricksters, too,” said Fanny. “I have witnessed their
-sentimental grimaces--their head shakings--their appeal to the feelings
-with pathetic eyes turned heavenward. They made me ashamed of
-them--ashamed of myself for listening to them, though people about me
-had been moved to tears. But I think that the people who are easily
-moved to tears are those who retain an impression the shortest space of
-time.”
-
-“You give me confidence--encouragement,” he cried. “I have made up my
-mind that if I cannot reach a heart by the straight King's highway, I
-will not try to do so by any bypath. Bypaths are, we know, the resorts
-of brigands: they may captivate a heart or two, but only to leave them
-empty afterwards.”
-
-So they talked together for many minutes. Faney Burney had a sufficient
-acquaintance among musicians, vocal as well as instrumental, to have
-learned, long ago, that they can easily be prevented from talking on any
-other subject than music, and the same reflection that had caused her
-to say that “Not yet--not yet,” had impelled her to lead Rauzzini in
-another direction than that in which he had shown so strong a tendency
-to go. He had been trying to make her understand that he had travelled
-through the obstructions of the hall not in order that he might obtain
-the criticism of so accomplished a _maestro_ as Dr. Burney upon his
-singing, but in order that he should have a chance of talking to Dr.
-Burney's unaccomplished daughter; he had shown her that his wish was to
-converse on the topic of this unaccomplished daughter; but she had no
-mind to acquiesce in his aims for the present. She still felt herself to
-be the beggar maid, and she would not allow her king to get any nearer
-to her.
-
-It was not until her cousin had returned to where she was seated, that
-the young Italian found that he had not made much progress with his
-suit. He had intended that this _tête-à-tête_ with her should make
-her aware of how he felt in regard to her, but he had allowed his
-opportunity to pass, and in place of talking about her he had been led
-to talk of himself.
-
-That was how he expressed himself to her when he found that their
-_tête-à-tête_ was at an end.
-
-“How has this come about?” he cried in surprise. “How is it that I have
-shown myself to be so vain as to make speeches about my singing when I
-meant to talk to you of yourself?”
-
-“'Twas I who found a more profitable topic for you, _signore mio_,” she
-replied, feeling her way through the words of his native tongue, for he
-had spoken out his surprise in Italian.
-
-He shook his head and made a gesture with his hands.
-
-“But it is a mystery!” he said in French. “I had no desire to talk about
-myself or my singing. I meant to tell you what was in my mind when I saw
-you entering this place with your father. Shall we retrace our steps in
-our conversation until I find how it was that I took a wrong turning?
-Alas! I fear that it would not be possible!”
-
-“It would not be possible, indeed,” she replied. “Did you not say
-something about the bypaths being dangerous with banditti? We kept
-our feet upon the King's highway, which is safe. I was swept off my
-feet--carried away--away--by your singing of the aria; I had scarce
-touched the earth once more when you came to my side, and now we are
-parting happily, you to realize your aspirations, I to--to--well,
-to retain for ever the memory of your singing--the memory of those
-celestial harmonies into the midst of which I was wafted by the angels
-of your imploration. That is enough for one evening of my life. Nay, you
-must not speak another word lest the charm of all should fade away. I
-shall go home to dream of angels.”
-
-“And I shall go to dream of you,” he said in a low tone.
-
-He did not hold her hand so long as Thomas Barlowe had done when parting
-from her, but she felt that somehow he had accomplished more by his
-reserve than Thomas had achieved by his impetuosity. She hoped that she
-might never see Thomas again; but for Signor Rauzzini----
-
-They parted.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XIV
-
-|THESE foreigners!” exclaimed young Edward Burney when Rauzzini had left
-them, and Fanny was asking her cousin if her father was not looking for
-her. “These foreigners! Your father is talking with another of them--an
-Italian too, as I live--I have seen him in St. Martin's Street--Signor
-Piozzi. But I suppose Uncle Burney likes to keep in touch with them. The
-town is swarming with them: they are even to be found about Leicester
-Fields. Why do some people fancy that we must have Italians to sing
-for us? There are plenty of good singers in England, without a drop of
-foreign blood in their veins. A good sea song with a chorus that is easy
-to get into the swing of--that's English and honest.”
-
-“Honest down to the hoarsest note,” said Fanny. “You and James are at
-one in the matter of songs.”
-
-“Cousin Jim hates foreigners, as is quite proper that an officer in a
-King's ship should,” said Edward stoutly.
-
-“Not all foreigners,” said Fanny smiling. “You forget how kindly he took
-to Prince Omai.”
-
-“Oh, a South Sea Islander is different,” cried her cousin. “I expect
-that the South Seas will soon become as English as ourselves if Captain
-Cook goes on discovering islands.”
-
-“Edward,” said Fanny, after a pause sufficient to allow of the
-introduction of a new topic; “Edward, could you make it convenient to
-call at the Orange Coffee House some day soon to inquire if there is
-another letter for Mr. Grafton?”
-
-“I'll not omit it on any account,” he replied. “Oh, yes, Mr. Grafton,
-I'll collect your correspondence for you, never fear. You have not let
-anyone else into the secret, I hope?”
-
-“No one knows it except Susy and Lottie and Charles and Hetty; but Hetty
-only knows that I wrote the book, not that it is to be printed--Charles
-is still away from us, or I would not trouble you, Edward.”
-
-“Poor Charlie grew tired of the Orange Coffee House, did he not? He told
-me how you made him your messenger at first, disguising him in a cloak
-and a gentleman's hat, so that he might not seem quite the boy that he
-was. But how the secret has been kept so well is a wonder to me--kept
-from the powers that be, I mean--uncle and aunt. I wonder if your mother
-never had a suspicion of what was going on, especially as she knew all
-about your writing long ago.”
-
-“I think that it was the copying out of the padre's History that saved
-me,” said Fanny. “Many a page of my novel I wrote when she believed that
-I was copying the notes for the History--yes, that, and the letters
-which Mr. Crisp insists on my sending him every week. But even with
-these excuses I could sometimes not get through more than three or four
-pages of my own book during a whole week.”
-
-“How will you look when the secret is let out--it must be let out some
-day, you know? If the writing a novel is thought shocking, how will
-Uncle Burney receive the news, think you? He has not yet given you leave
-to publish it.”
-
-There was a troubled look on poor Fanny's face as she replied, after a
-pause:
-
-“I have often meant to ask father's permission, but I was not able to
-summon up courage enough to face him with the whole truth. But it cannot
-be delayed much longer. Perhaps I might write him a letter about it some
-time when I am at Chessington.”
-
-“I don't envy you the duty, my dear Fanny,” said lie. “But I think that
-the sooner you get it over the easier you will feel. I suppose that
-writing a novel is worse than writing a 'History of Music.' I wonder why
-you took so much trouble over the business.”
-
-“I could not help it,” she cried. “I have often wondered myself why I
-was sitting up in that cold room at the top of the house, writing until
-my fingers were benumbed, when I might have been at my comfortable
-sewing in front of a fire downstairs; but I could not help it--I could
-not help doing it, Eddy.”
-
-Eddy never reached that point in his career as a painter when he found
-the artist's impulse to create too great to be resisted. He could not
-appreciate her explanation.
-
-“'I couldn't help it,' that's what we were used to say long ago, when
-we got into mischief; I hope that Uncle Burney and Aunt Burney--don't
-forget her in this matter--I hope that they will accept your excuse.
-Anyhow, you may trust me to act as your 'Mr. Grafton' at the Orange
-Coffee House some day this week.”
-
-He caught a glimpse of his uncle, Dr. Burney, sitting with Mr. Greville,
-so that he had no trouble in placing Fanny once more in charge of her
-father. He could see that the girl was a little downcast, and tried to
-cheer her up a bit by whispering in a sly way into her ear:
-
-“Good-night, Mr. Grafton; my best respects to Mrs. Grafton and the
-children--especially Evelina.”
-
-The smile that Fanny gave in acknowledgment of his pleasantry did not
-quite carry conviction that his well-meant effort had been successful.
-He went away feeling as much sympathy for her as was possible for him
-to have in common with the reflection that if she was in a difficult
-position, it was wholly one of her own seeking. What could have induced
-a girl who had been carefully brought up, and provided with an excellent
-stepmother, to write a novel, placing herself thereby on a level
-with those dreadful ladies whose productions were prohibited in every
-self-respecting household and only read by stealth when obtained at
-a cost of twopence--more than the best of them were worth--at the
-circulating library?
-
-Yes, poor Fanny was undoubtedly to be pitied; but she had really only
-herself to blame for the trouble that was looming in front of her when
-the secret of her authorship should be revealed to her father and her
-excellent stepmother--one of the best judges to be found anywhere of all
-sorts of needlework--not merely plain sewing and buttonholing, but satin
-stitch, herring-boning and running and felling.
-
-The very next day Cousin Edward called at St. Martin's Street, carrying
-with him a small parcel neatly done up in white paper. He was lucky
-enough to find Fanny and Susan alone in the work-room; and after asking
-mysteriously if there was any chance of his uncle or aunt coming
-upon them, and being assured that they were both away for the day, he
-carefully locked the door of the room, saying in the whisper of a man of
-plots and mysteries:
-
-“'Tis better to be sure than sorry. In matters of this nature 'tis
-impossible to be too cautious.”
-
-He then handed the parcel to Fanny, who gave an exclamation when she saw
-that it was addressed:
-
-“_To Mr. Grafton, at the Orange Coffee House, Orange Street_.”
-
-She opened the parcel, and found it to contain a printer's unbound copy
-of a book, the title page of which stared up at her: “_Evelina; or, A
-Young Lady's Entrance into the World_,” and with it was a letter from
-Mr. Lowndes, the bookseller, presenting his compliments to Mr. Grafton,
-with the request that Mr. Grafton would read the book and prove it as
-soon as possible, returning the list of errata to Mr. Lowndes, so that
-the edition might go to press for early publication.
-
-There it lay on the table in front of her. She read the letter standing,
-and remained on her feet, looking down at the unbound book. It had a
-queer, half-dressed appearance, lacking covers; and when, after some
-minutes of silence, Susy took a step or two closer to it, and, with her
-hand on Fanny's arm, looked down on it also, the picture that they made
-suggested two sisters looking into the cradle where the first baby of
-one of them lay. The expression on Susy's face--a mingling of wonder and
-curiosity, with delight not far off--was exactly that which the younger
-sister of the picture might be expected to wear, catching a glimpse of
-the undressed morsel of humanity in its first cot.
-
-Susy put her hand down to it, and moved the printed sheets about. She
-read the title page down to the last name on the imprint, and then she
-flung up her hands, crying:
-
-“How lovely! how lovely! But it seems wonderful! How did it come into
-being? It looks like a real thing now that we see it printed. The copy
-that you wrote out in that disguised hand seemed somehow quite different
-from this. There is life in this. It feels warm, actually warm, Fanny.
-Oh, don't you love it, dear?”
-
-Fanny, the young mother, shook her head, but with no significance, so
-far as Susy could see.
-
-“'Tis too late now,” said Edward gloomily, taking on himself the burden
-of interpreting that head-shake. “You are bound down to go on with it
-now. You should have thought of all this before.”
-
-“What nonsense is this you are talking?” cried Susy, turning upon
-him almost indignantly; for his tone suggested an aspersion upon the
-offspring. “What do you say is too late now? Do you mean to say that
-there's anything to be ashamed of in this? Cannot you see that she did
-not put her name to it? Who is there to know that it came from this
-house? The name of Burney nowhere appears on it.”
-
-“That's so much, at any rate,” said he.
-
-“Do you mean to say that you don't think it quite wonderful, Eddy?”
- cried Susy. “And getting twenty pounds for it--twenty pounds! And you
-say something about it being too late!”
-
-“I only judged from the way Fanny shook her head,” said he.
-
-“Oh, that was not what Fanny was thinking at all--now was it, Fanny?”
- said Susy encouragingly to her sister.
-
-“I don't know quite what I meant or what I mean even now,” replied
-Fanny. “It made me feel for the moment somehow as if I had appeared in a
-street full of people before I had quite finished dressing!”
-
-“Ah!” exclaimed Edward.
-
-“But that is nonsense, dear,” said Susy, still consolatory. “The book is
-not yourself.”
-
-“Not all myself, but part of myself--that is what I feel,” said Fanny.
-
-“I cannot see that that is so. You are you--you yourself quite apart
-from the book. Whatever the book may be, you will still remain Fanny
-Burney, the best daughter and the best sister in the world. What does it
-matter if people--foolish people who know nothing about it--laugh at it
-or say nasty things about it? Do you think that that will make any of us
-like you the less?”
-
-She put her arm about Fanny and kissed her on the cheek, and Fanny's
-tears began to fall. The young man standing by felt more uneasy than
-he had ever felt in his life. He crossed the room and looked out of the
-window, turning his back upon the scene of the sisters. He did not know
-what to say to a girl when once she allowed herself to weep. He wished
-with all his heart that he had not been dragged into this business. But
-Fanny's tears convinced him that his first impression of her reception
-of her book was the correct one: she was, like other young mothers he
-had heard of, bitterly repentant when it was too late.
-
-The next sound of which he became aware was of the crinkling of the
-stiff paper of the wrapper. One of the girls was folding up the parcel.
-He glanced round and saw that it was Fanny herself who was so engaged.
-She had dried her tears; the expression on her face was one of
-resignation--one of determination to make the best of a bad matter.
-
-“Ah, that's better,” said he, going to her and picking up the string
-from the floor. “There's no use crying over spilt milk, is there, Fanny?
-We have all kept your secret loyally, and no one need ever know that
-you so far forgot yourself. Certainly the revelation will never come
-from my lips.”
-
-Fanny burst out laughing.
-
-“Oh, dear Eddy, you are the best cousin that any poor girl could have,”
- she said. “Your words have helped me greatly. They have helped to make
-me feel what is the aspect of the world in regard to my poor little
-story. It has been my constant companion night and day for three years
-and more. I worked at it in the cold and I tried how I could improve
-pages of it, copying it and recopying it; I practised a duplicity which
-was foreign to my nature in writing it--I have deceived my father and my
-mother about it--I wasted my eyesight over it--I robbed myself of sleep
-so that I might complete it, and when it was completed I lay awake in
-anxiety lest no bookseller would look at it, all this trouble I had with
-it, so that the world might have of my best, and what is the verdict of
-the world after all this? You have pronounced it, dear Eddy--you said
-thoughtfully and consolingly--'There's no use crying over spilt milk.'
-You are quite right. Not another tear will I shed over this poor little
-bantling of mine. 'A Young Lady's Entrance into the World'? Nay, call it
-rather a rickety brat that should never have made its entrance into the
-world at all.”
-
-“I should be ashamed of myself if I ever spoke of it in such terms,”
- cried Susy, looking indignantly at her cousin as though he had abused
-it in that phrase. “'Rickety brat,' indeed! Oh, I should be ashamed. It
-looked so much alive--more alive, I think, than if it was in its covers.
-Let us sit down and read it together, Fanny.”
-
-Cousin Edward felt that he was being badly treated between these
-sisters. That last remark of Susy was rather more than a suggestion
-that he might go as soon as it pleased him. He had not any previous
-experience of young women and their offspring. He could not know
-that their attitude in such circumstances is one of hostility to the
-male--that they resent his appearance as an intrusion.
-
-“I am glad that you are so pleased,” said he, with only a trace of
-irritability in his voice. “And I am glad that I have been of any use to
-you, Cousin Fanny. After all, the thing is yours, not Susy's.”
-
-“That is true, indeed,” cried Fanny. “And it is I who offer you
-my gratitude for your help. Believe me, Eddy, I am sensible of the
-adroitness you have shown in this matter ever since we let you into our
-secret; and if any trouble comes from what we have done you may be quite
-sure that I will accept the entire responsibility for it.”
-
-“Oh, so far as that goes, I do not shrink from taking my share,” said
-he magnanimously. “I do not feel quite without blame--I am a man and
-I should have warned you at the outset. But you had nearly finished it
-before I heard anything of it--you must not forget that.”
-
-“That is true indeed,” said Fanny. “I was self-willed. I wonder was it
-vanity that impelled me. Never mind! It cannot be helped now. It may
-never be heard of again.”
-
-“There's always that to remember,” said he, with the eagerness of a
-drowning man grasping at a straw.
-
-“And I believe that the chances are greatly in favour of that hope being
-realized. Thank you again for your encouragement, dear Eddy,” said she.
-
-“Oh, that's nothing--nothing worth talking about,” said he, picking up
-his gloves. “You can command me always, Cousin Fanny. And you have seen
-that I can keep a secret. Now mind you don't leave that lying about”--he
-pointed to the parcel, the string of which Susy was knotting--“and, be
-advised by me, turn the key in the lock when you are working at it.”
-
-“Yes,” said Susy, “we'll be sure to do our best to prevent anyone from
-suspecting that we have a secret, by locking ourselves in.”
-
-“Caution--nothing like caution,” said he in a whisper, unfastening the
-door and putting his head out to glance to right and left of the short
-corridor. He held up his finger. “All safe so far,” he whispered; “no
-one is in sight.”
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XV
-
-|THE moment he disappeared, Susy slipped the knot which she had just
-made on the parcel and flung the paper away.
-
-“Now we can settle down to it properly, Fanny,” she cried, catching
-up the bundle of unstitched sheets and throwing herself back upon the
-little sofa. “Come beside me, dear, and we shall go through every word
-together. Never mind what Eddy said; I think it looks quite lovely, and
-how easily it reads--just like poetry--'Evelina'!--how did you think of
-that sweet name?--'_or, A Young Lady's Entrance into the World_.' Not
-a mistake so far. The printers must surely be careful men! And now that
-you come to think of it, this is really the entrance of the Young Lady
-into the world. Here she is, smiling, but a little shy--just like her
-mamma--your Evelina takes after you, dear--now, confess that there is
-something agreeably shy in the italics printing of that line beginning
-with '_A Young Lady's Entrance_,' Fanny; it may be wrong to write a
-novel, but don't you think that this is worth it? Edward is a goose
-to talk as he did about crying over spilt milk. I wonder that you had
-patience to listen to him.”
-
-“Eddy is a dear boy, and he only said what he knew nearly everybody else
-would be disposed to say about this business. I started the story, as
-you know, half in fun--by way of exercising my hand--but then it got
-hold of me, and it became deadly earnest, and now--oh, Susy, what I feel
-now about it is just what I said to Edward: it seems as if it were the
-best part of myself that I am giving to the world. I wonder if it is
-right for anyone who has written a book, if it be only a novel, to look
-upon it in that light.”
-
-“Why should it not be right? Didn't you put all your thoughts into it,
-and are not one's thoughts part of oneself?” said Susy. “And although so
-many people look down upon novels--all the novels that have been written
-since Mr. Richardson died--still--oh, did not Dr. Johnson once write
-a novel? Yes, 'Rasselas' was what he called it. I tried to read it
-but----”
-
-“H'sh, Susy. Dr. Johnson might write anything that he pleased. Though
-Dr. Johnson wrote a novel, that should be no excuse for such as I having
-the audacity to do the like.”
-
-“I suppose that's what some people will say. But I can't see that if a
-good man does an evil thing, it becomes a good thing simply because he
-does it.”
-
-“Stop, Susy: I remember that he confessed to someone, who told it to Mr.
-Crisp, that he had written 'Rasselas' in order to get money enough to
-pay for his mother's funeral.”
-
-“Oh, in that case--might he not have written something a good deal
-better, Fanny? Oh, I see that you are stricken with horror at my
-thinking anything that came from Dr. Johnson to be dull. I daresay I
-began reading it too soon: I should have waited until I had learned that
-if a great man writes a book it is a great book, but that if a simple
-girl writes a novel--well, there's no use crying over spilt milk. Now
-that's the last word that I have to say, for I mean to read every word
-that's printed here--here--here!” She brought down her open hand on the
-topmost sheets of “Evelina” in three crescendo slaps, and then tucked
-her feet under her and buried herself in the book.
-
-Fanny sat laughing beside her; and when Susy paid no attention to her
-laughter, she continued sitting there in silence, while Susy read page
-after page.
-
-Several minutes had passed before the authoress asked:
-
-“How does the thing read, dear?”
-
-Susy gave a start at the sound of her voice and looked around her as if
-she had just been awakened. This should have been enough for Fanny. She
-should not have repeated her question: it was already answered.
-
-“How does the thing read, Susy?”
-
-“How does it read?” cried Susy. “Oh, Fanny, it reads exactly like a
-book--exactly. There is no difference between this and a real book. Oh,
-'tis a thousand times nicer to read in print than it was as you wrote
-it. It is so good, too!--the best story I ever read! I can't understand
-how you ever came to write it. You who have seen nothing of life--how
-did such a story ever come to you?”
-
-“I wish I knew,” replied Fanny. “And do you think that anyone else will
-read it now that it is printed?” she asked (she was rapidly acquiring
-the most prominent traits of the complete novel writer).
-
-“Anyone else? Nay, everyone--everyone will read it, and everyone will
-love it. How could anyone help--even daddy and mamma? Now please don't
-interrupt me again.”
-
-Down went Susy's face once more among the printed sheets, and Fanny
-watched her with delight. She had been quite ready a short time before
-to accept the verdict of Cousin Edward as equivalent to that of the
-public upon her book; and now she was prepared to accept Susy as the
-representative of all readers of taste and discrimination.
-
-“Edward--psha! What could he know about it?” she was ready to exclaim:
-every moment was bringing her nearer to the complete novelist.
-
-“Surely,” she thought, “there can be no dearer pleasure in life than to
-watch the effect of one's own book upon an appreciative reader!”
-
-(The appreciative reader is always the one who is favourably impressed;
-the other sort knows nothing about what constitutes an interesting
-book.)
-
-It was the first draught of which she had ever partaken of this
-particular cup of happiness, and it was a bombard. She was draining it
-to the very dregs: it was making her intoxicated, even though it was
-only offered to her by her younger sister, who had never read half a
-dozen novels in all her life, and these surreptitiously. She could know
-by the varying changes in expression on Susy's face what place she had
-come to in the book: the turning over of the pages was no guide to her,
-for she had no idea of the quantity of her writing the printers had
-put into a page, but she had no trouble in finding Susy's place, so
-exquisitely reflective was the girl's face of the incidents among which
-she was wandering. Surely little Susy had always been her favourite
-sister (she was smiling at one of the drolleries of characterization
-upon which she had come); oh, there could be no doubt that she had
-never loved any of her sisters as she loved Susy (Susy's eyes were
-now becoming watery, and Fanny knew that she had-reached the first of
-Evelina's troubles).
-
-It was the happiest hour of Fanny's life, and she gave herself up to
-it. She did not feel any irresistible desire to judge for herself if the
-opinion expressed by Susy respecting the story was correct or otherwise.
-She had no impulse to see how her ideas “looked in print.” She was
-content to observe the impression they were making upon her first lay
-reader. She had a vague suspicion that her own pleasure in reading
-the book would be infinitely less than the pleasure she derived from
-following the course of the story in her sister's face.
-
-Half an hour had actually passed before Susy seemed to awaken to the
-realities of life. She jumped up from the sofa with an exclamation of
-surprise, and then glanced down at Fanny with an inquiring look on her
-face--a puzzled look that gave the seal to Fanny's happiness.
-
-“You are wondering how I come to be here, Susy,” said she smiling. “You
-are wondering how I come to be mixed up with the Branghtons and
-the Mervains and the rest of them. You would make me out to be an
-enchantress carrying you into the midst of a strange society; and I
-don't want any more delightful compliments, dear.”
-
-“Oh, Fanny, 'tis so wonderful--so----”
-
-“I don't want to hear anything about it beyond what you have already
-told me, my dear Susy. I watched your face and it told me all. Give me
-a kiss, Susy. You have given me a sensation of pleasure such as I never
-knew before, and such as, I fear, I shall never know again.”
-
-In an instant the two girls were in each other's arms, mingling their
-tears and then their laughter, but exchanging no word until they had
-exhausted every other means of expressing what they felt.
-
-It was Susy who spoke first.
-
-“Take it away, Fanny,” she said. “Take the book away, for I know that if
-I read any more of it I shall betray your secret to all the house. They
-will read it on my face every time I look at you.”
-
-“I think that the hour has come for me to relieve you of the precious
-book,” said Fanny. “There is the letter from Mr. Lowndes asking me to
-make out the list of errata as quickly as possible, and I do believe
-that I shall have to read the book before I can oblige him.”
-
-“'Twas thoughtless for me to jump into the middle as I did, when you had
-to read it,” cried Susy. “But there is really no mistake on any page, so
-far as I could see.”
-
-“Unless the whole is a mistake,” said Fanny. “But I will not suggest that
-now, having seen your face while you were devouring it. Dear Susy, if I
-find many such readers I shall be happy.”
-
-She gathered together the loose sheets and carried them off to the
-little room at the top of the house where it was understood she wrote
-her long weekly letter to Mr. Crisp, who had made himself a hermit
-at Chessington, but who, like some other hermits, looked forward
-with impatience to the delightful glimpses of the world which he had
-forsaken, afforded to him on every page written by her.
-
-Susy did not see her again until dinner-time, and by that time the
-younger girl felt that she had herself under such complete control
-that she could preserve inviolate the secret of the authorship until it
-should cease to be a secret. The result of her rigid control of herself
-was that her brother James said to her when they were having tea in the
-drawing-room:
-
-“What was the matter with you at dinner, Sue? You looked as if you were
-aware that something had happened and you were fearful lest it might be
-found out. Have you broken a china ornament, or has the cat been turning
-over the leaves of the 'History of Music' with her claws, and left her
-signature on the morocco of the cover?”
-
-“What nonsense!” cried Susan. “Nothing has happened. What was there to
-happen, prithee tell me?”
-
-“Ah, that is beyond my power,” he replied. “I suppose you girls will
-have your secrets--ay, ay; until some day you reveal them to another
-girl with the strictest of cautions never to let the matter go beyond
-her--and so forth--and so forth. Never mind, I'll not be the one to
-tempt you to blab. I never yet had a secret told to me that was worth
-wasting words over.”
-
-“If I had a secret of importance I think that you would be a safe person
-to tell it to,” said Susy.
-
-“You are right there,” he assented with a nautical wink. “You could find
-in me the safest depository you could wish for; you might safely depend
-upon my forgetting all about it within the hour.”
-
-He did not trouble her any further, but she felt somewhat humiliated
-to think that she had had so little control of herself as to cause her
-brother's suspicions to be aroused. She thought that it would only be a
-matter of minutes when her father or her stepmother would approach her
-with further questions. Happily, however, it seemed that James was the
-keenest observer in the household, for no one put a question to her
-respecting her tell-tale face.
-
-Still she was glad when she found herself safely and snugly in bed and
-so in a position to whisper across the room to her sister Charlotte
-the news that Fanny's novel had been printed and that a copy was safely
-locked up in Fanny's desk, and that it looked lovely in its new form.
-
-Charlotte was greatly excited, but thought that Fanny might have told
-her the news before dinner.
-
-“Poor Fanny! she will have to tell the Padre to-morrow and ask his leave
-to--to do what she has already done without it. Poor Fanny!”
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XVI
-
-|A FEW days later Dr. Burney was at the point of setting out for
-Chessington to share Mr. Crisp's hermitage until the end of the week. He
-had already said good-bye to the household; but Fanny accompanied him to
-the door. It was her last chance, she knew. She had long ago made up her
-mind that one of her secrets must be told to him, and she had more than
-once, since the printed sheets had been brought to her, tried to
-screw up her courage to the point of telling him, but she had not yet
-succeeded. And now he was going to Chessington for four days, and in
-the meantime the book should be returned to the printer. It was the last
-chance she would have of discharging the duty which was incumbent on
-her. She had been hovering around him in the hall, shaking out his
-gloves for him, polishing the gold knob of his cane, picking a scrap of
-dust from the collar of his travelling-cloak. In another minute he would
-be gone--her opportunity would be gone.
-
-And then came the relieving thought of further procrastination:
-
-“I shall write to him at Chessington and confess all.”
-
-It seemed as though she had uttered her thought aloud, for he turned to
-her with his hand on the latch of the hall door, saying:
-
-“You will write to Chessington to-morrow or the day after, my dear. It
-is no trouble to you to write. You enjoy it, do you not?”
-
-“Oh, it is my chief enjoyment. That is why I have been practising it
-so much, just as the others have been practising their music. I have no
-music in my soul, so I--I have been writing. Of course, it is not to be
-expected that I could do more than write some nonsense--my equivalent to
-the strumming of the scales.”
-
-“It pleases me greatly to hear that,” said he. “But you do yourself an
-injustice; Mr. Crisp never ceases to praise your letters.”
-
-“He is praising his own pupil then,” said she, “for 'twas he who first
-taught me how to write, and now I have been putting together some
-imaginary letters, and I thought that if he could see them printed in
-front of him he would be amused.”
-
-“Imaginary letters? Why not continue your real ones, my dear? It would
-cost a great deal to have your imaginary ones printed.”
-
-“My dear father,” she cried, “you surely do not think that I would ask
-you for money to pay for my whim? But if I could prevail on someone--a
-bookseller--to print what I write, I hope you will consent to my doing
-so--not putting my name to the thing, of course?”
-
-“And does my Fanny believe that 'tis all so easy to persuade a
-bookseller to pay her printer's bill?” he said, pinching her ear.
-“Booksellers are shrewd men of business.”
-
-“But even men of business have their weak moments,” said she. “And
-so if--if--you would not think it too bold of me to let James take my
-parcel to a bookseller? You would not forbid me to try to realize my
-ambition?”
-
-“You may be sure that the one to frustrate your aims will not be your
-father,” said he, smiling shrewdly. “I will consent if--ah, there is
-the fatal if--if your bookseller consents. Now goodbye, my dear child.
-I will take your love to your Daddy Crisp, and tell him to await a real
-letter from you--not an imaginary one.”
-
-She stood on tiptoe to kiss him--but even then he had to stoop before
-his lips were on her forehead.
-
-He was gone in another moment. She stood at the inner side of the closed
-door and listened to the rattling of the wheels of the chaise over the
-cobble-stones.
-
-So the ordeal that she dreaded had been faced, and how simple a thing it
-had turned out after all! Her father had treated the idea which she
-had submitted to him as if it were nothing beyond the thought of a
-simpleton--a foolish, simple girl who knew nothing of the world of
-business and booksellers, and who fancied that a bookseller would print
-everything that was sent to him.
-
-He had delivered that contingent “if” with the shake of the head and the
-shrewd smile of one who is acquainted with the seamy side of
-business, in the presence of a child who fancies that printing follows
-automatically upon the writing of a book and that there are thousands
-of buyers eagerly awaiting the chance of securing everything that passes
-through a printing-press. She had perceived just what was in his mind;
-and his consent, followed by that contingent “if,” to her publishing
-what she had written, was given to her with the same freedom that would
-have accompanied his permission to appropriate all the gold used in
-paving the streets of the City. She could see from the way he smiled
-that he felt that she knew as little about the conditions under which
-books are printed as a child does about the paving of the streets of the
-City.
-
-She knew that he would never again refer to the subject of those
-imaginary letters of hers--he would be too considerate of her feelings
-to do so; he would have no desire to humiliate her. He would not even
-rally her in a playful way about her literary work, asking her how the
-printing was progressing, and if she had made up her mind to start a
-coach as grand as that magnificent piece of carved and gilded furniture
-which Sir Joshua had just had built for himself--oh, no: her father
-had always respected her sensibility. Years ago, when her brothers and
-sisters were making their light jests upon her backwardness, he had
-stopped them and said that he had no fears for the future of Fanny; and
-she was certain that in referring to her, as he so frequently did, as
-“poor Fanny,” he meant nothing but kindness to her. To be sure, at
-first it grated upon her sensitiveness to be referred to in that kindly
-pitying way, but she did not resent it--indeed, she usually thought of
-herself as “poor Fanny.” In a household where proficiency in music was
-the standard from which every member was judged, it was inevitable that
-her incompetence should be impressed upon her; but no one was hard upon
-her--the kindly “poor Fanny” of her father represented the attitude
-of the household toward her, even when she had confided to some of the
-members the fact that she was writing a novel. They had been startled;
-but, then, a novel was not a musical composition, and such an
-achievement could not be received with the warmth that Esther's playing
-received. It was really not until the printed sheets of the book lay
-before Susy that she felt that Fanny had, in one leap, brought herself
-well-nigh to the level of Esther; and by the time Susy had read the
-story to the end she had made up her mind that if it might be possible
-to compare the interest of a literary work with that of the playing of
-a piece of music, Fanny's work could claim precedence over the best that
-Esther had done--she had confessed as much to Fanny in secret, and Fanny
-had called her a foolish child.
-
-Fanny had seated herself in the parlour opening off the little hall, on
-the departure of her father, and her memory took her back to the days
-she had passed in the house at Poland Street, when she had written her
-story of Caroline Evelyn, and had been induced by her stepmother to burn
-it, with sundry dramas and literary moralizings after the manner of the
-_Tatler_--all the work of her early youth. She recalled her resolution
-never again to engage in any such unprofitable practices as were
-represented by the smoke which was ascending from the funeral pyre of
-her “Caroline Evelyn” and the rest.
-
-How long had she kept to her resolution? She could not remember. She
-could not recall having any sense of guilt when she had begun her
-“Evelina”--it seemed to have sprung from the ashes of “Caroline
-Evelyn”--nor could she recollect what had been on her mind when she was
-spending those long chilly hours of her restricted leisure toiling over
-the book. All that she could remember now was her feeling that it had
-to be written--that it seemed as if someone in authority had laid on her
-the injunction to write it, and she had no choice but to obey.
-
-Well, she had obeyed--the book had been written and printed and she
-meant to send the corrected sheets back to Mr. Lowndes in the course of
-the day. Her father's consent to its publication had been obtained and
-it would be advertised for sale within some months, and then----
-
-Her imagination was not equal to the pursuit of the question of its
-future. Sometimes she felt that she never wished to hear of the book
-again. She could almost hope that sending the sheets back to Mr. Lowndes
-would be the same as dropping them, with a heavy stone in the parcel,
-into the deep sea.
-
-But that was when the trouble of getting her father's permission
-to publish it was looming before her. Now that this cloud had been
-dispelled she felt less gloomy. She had a roseate dream of hearing
-people talk about the book and even wishing to know the name of the
-author. She had a dream of Fame herself carrying her away to sublime
-heights--to such heights as she had been borne by the singing of “Waft
-her, Angels.” Her dream was of sitting on these heights of Fame by the
-side of the singer--on the same level--not inferior in the eyes of the
-world--not as the beggar maid uplifted in her rags to the side of the
-King.
-
-That had been her dream when listening to the singing, and it returned
-to her now, as she sat alone in the little parlour, having just taken
-the last step that was necessary before giving to the world the book
-which was to do so much for her. Her visions of success showed her no
-more entrancing a prospect than that of being by his side with her fame
-as a dowry worthy of his acceptance at her hands; so that people might
-not say that he had chosen unworthily--he, who had all the world to
-choose from.
-
-And quite naturally there came to her in due sequence the marvellous
-thought that he had already chosen her out of all the world--he
-had chosen her, believing her to be the dowerless daughter of a
-music-teacher--the one uninteresting member of a popular family!
-
-This was the most delightful thought of the whole train that came
-to her. It was worth cherishing above all the rest--close to her
-heart--close to her heart. She hugged that thought so close to her that
-it became warm with the warmth of her heart. Even though her book should
-never be heard of again, even though the world might treat it with
-contempt, she would still be consoled by the reflection that he had
-chosen her.
-
-*****
-
-“Why on earth should you be sitting here in the cold, Fanny?” came the
-voice from the opened door--the voice of firm domestic virtue.
-
-“Cold? cold? Surely 'Tis not cold, mamma,” she said.
-
-“Not so very cold; but when there is a fire in the work-room it should
-not be wasted,” said Mrs. Burney. “But to say the truth you do not look
-as if you were cold; your face is quite flushed, child. I hope you do
-not feel that you are on the brink of a sickness, my dear.”
-
-“Dear mamma, I never felt stronger in my life,” cried Fanny with a
-laugh.
-
-“I am glad to hear that. I was saying to Lottie just now that for some
-days past you have had alternately a worried look and the look of one
-whose brain is over-excited. Is anything the matter, my child?”
-
-“Nothing--nothing--indeed nothing! I never felt more at ease in all my
-life.”
-
-“Well, well, a little exercise will do you no harm, I am sure; so put on
-your hat and accompany me to the fishmonger's. He has not been treating
-us at all fairly of late. It is not that I mind the remark made quite
-respectfully by James at dinner yesterday--it would be ridiculous to
-expect to find fish as fresh in the centre of London as he and his
-shipmates were accustomed to in the middle of the Pacific Ocean; but it
-would not be unreasonable for us to look for turbot with less of a taint
-than that we had yesterday. You will hear the man excuse himself
-by asserting that I chose the fish at his stall; but my answer to
-that--well, come with me and you shall hear what is my answer.”
-
-Fanny went with her and heard.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XVII
-
-|THE faithful Cousin Edward had carried the sheets of “Evelina” to Mr.
-Lowndes's shop, with her list of errata, sisters Lottie and Susy
-giving him ample instructions as to the disguise he should assume in
-discharging that duty; it would be terrible, they thought, if the secret
-which they had so carefully guarded for so long should be revealed just
-when it was most important that it should be kept. Their imagination
-was keen enough to suggest to them the possibility of good Mr.
-Lowdnes setting a watch upon the people entering his shop, and giving
-instructions that the bearer of the parcel of “Evelina” should be
-detained and brought into his presence to be questioned.
-
-They advised that Edward should muffle up his face well before going
-into the shop, and then lay down his parcel and fly like the wind--that
-would be the best way of defeating the curiosity of the bookseller.
-
-But Edward was of the opinion that such a course of action might
-possibly only stimulate the man's curiosity as well as that of the
-people in the street, and the cry of “Stop thief!” might bring his
-frantic flight to a standstill. He thought that the most artful course
-to adopt would be to hang around the shop until he found that several
-customers were within; then he would enter quite casually and wait until
-Mr. Lowndes had served one customer and was about to attend to another.
-If the parcel were thrust into his hands during this interval, he,
-Edward, would have a good chance of getting safely away before Mr.
-Lowndes should have time to examine its contents.
-
-They were rather struck with his idea, and he got permission to put it
-into practice; but in any case he must take the greatest care of the
-parcel; valuable parcels were snatched out of people's hands every day.
-
-He smiled.
-
-In another hour he was back at the house in St. Martin's Street to
-report to them the safe delivery of the precious parcel. After all, he
-had had nothing more exciting to do than to place it on a counter--the
-elderly gentleman with a pen behind his ear had not even taken the
-trouble to rise from his stool to receive it.
-
-“Parcel for Mr. Lowndes? All right. Leave it there”--those were the
-exact words with which the parcel was received, Edward reported--the
-clerk was buried in his ledger before he had left the shop.
-
-The girls were not a little disappointed at this very tame conclusion of
-what they expected would have been an exciting episode; and to say the
-truth, their chagrin was shared by Cousin Edward.
-
-He had looked for his resources of artfulness to be drawn on in the
-transaction--perhaps even his physical qualifications for the defence of
-the sacred secret as well. He felt as a strong man might feel on going
-forth to meet a giant, to find himself confronted by a dwarf. The
-mission was unworthy of his powers. Fanny's thanks heartily given to
-him, with the repeated assurance that, but for him, the affair could
-never have been carried out, scarcely compensated him for the tameness
-of the affair.
-
-For the next month or two it was a busy household in St. Martin's
-Street. Lieutenant Burney was joining his ship for another long voyage,
-and he had to be provided with a fresh outfit. The stitching that went
-on in the work-room surpassed even that maintained during the months
-preceding Esther's marriage; but the labour was lightened upon more
-than one occasion by the appearance of Mr. Garrick. Mr. Garrick had the
-freedom of the house in St. Martin's Street, as he had had that of the
-Poland Street domicile, where he had so often spent hours amusing the
-children with his inimitable drolleries.
-
-But Mrs. Burney thought he went a little too far in taking off their
-friends, and even their own father, though his malicious touches were as
-light as the pinches of Puck. He had been paying a visit to Mr. and Mrs.
-Kendal, and he convulsed even Mrs. Burney by his acting of the scene of
-his reception by them, the lady much more coy than she had ever been at
-the Wells, and the gentleman overflowing in his attentions to her; but
-both of them esteeming him as their benefactor.
-
-And they were so well satisfied with the honourable estate to which he
-had called them, that they appeared to be spending all their time
-trying to bring about matches among their acquaintance. No matter how
-unsuitable some of the projected unions seemed, no matter how unlikely
-some of the people were to do credit to their discrimination, they
-seemed determined that none should escape “the blissful bondage”--that
-was Mr. Kendal's neat phrase. Mr. Garrick repeated it with a smile that
-made his audience fancy that Mr. Kendal was before them.
-
-“'The blissful bondage--that's what I term it, sir,'” said Mr. Kendal,
-through Mr. Garrick. “'But the worst of the matter is, Mr. Garrick,
-that we have nearly exhausted our own circle of friends'--'I can easily
-believe that, sir,' interposed Mr. Garrick--' and so we feel it our duty
-to fall back upon you.' 'Lud, sir,' cried Mr. Garrick, jumping a step or
-two back as if to avoid a heavy impact--'Lud, sir! a little man like me!
-I should be crushed as flat as a black beetle.' 'Nay, sir, I mean that
-we are compelled to ask you for a list of a few of your friends who,
-you think, should be brought together--half a dozen of each sex would be
-sufficient to begin with.'”
-
-“Of course I demurred,” said Garrick, telling his story, “but before
-'the blissful bondage' had been repeated more than a score of times I
-began to think of all against whom I bore a grudge--here was clearly the
-means of getting level with them; the only trouble with me was that
-I found myself confounding the people who bore me a grudge with those
-against whom I bore a grudge--the former are plentiful, the latter very
-meagre in number. With the exception of a few very dear animosities
-which I was hoarding up to make old age endurable, I have killed off all
-my enemies, and was forced, like Mr. Kendal, to fall back on my friends;
-but even among these I could find few that I could honestly say
-were deserving of such a fate as I was asked to nominate them for. I
-ventured, however, to mention the name of Lieutenant Burney, of His
-Majesty's Fleet, coupling it with--I could not at first think of an
-appropriate partner for James, but at last I hit upon exactly the right
-lady.”
-
-“What! a splice before I set sail next week?” cried Jim. “That's good
-news, sir. And the lady's name, if you please, and her address. Give me
-my hat, Susy; there is no time to be lost. A splice in a trice. Come,
-Mr. Garrick, her name? Cannot you see that I am hanging in stays until
-you tell me who she is?”
-
-“She is a very pleasant lady, sir. I can assure you of that,” said
-Garrick. “Not too tall even with her hair built _à la mode_; a pleasant
-smile, and a happy way of conversing. In short, Lieutenant Burney, I can
-strongly recommend the lady, for I have known her for the past twenty
-years and more, and from the first she was a staid, sensible person--the
-very partner for a sailor, sir, being so contrary to him in every
-point.”
-
-“Hark'ee, Mr. Garrick; though I don't quite see myself in tow of such a
-state barge, I'll trouble you to relieve my suspense by telling me her
-name.”
-
-“I have more than once thought when I was young that she would make me
-an excellent wife,” said Garrick; “but I soon perceived that I was not
-good enough for her. She has always been an exemplary sister, and I saw
-that, try as I might, I could never become her equal in that respect;
-and for married happiness, my boy, there is nothing like----”
-
-“Her name--her name?” shrieked the girls.
-
-The actor looked at them with pained surprise on every feature.
-
-“Her name?” he said. “Surely I have described her very badly if you have
-not recognized the portrait. But, for that matter, I have often felt how
-inadequate are words to describe character combined with grace--a
-nature inclined to seriousness in conjunction with a desire to
-attract--loftiness of purpose linked with a certain daintiness----”
-
-He made a few gestures with his hands, keeping his elbows close to his
-side, and then imitated the spreading of a capacious skirt preparatory
-to sinking in a curtsey, and in a moment there was a cry from every part
-of the room of “Miss Reynolds--Miss Reynolds!”
-
-“And who has a word to say against Miss Reynolds?” cried the actor.
-
-“No one--no one,” said Fanny. “Character combined with grace--Miss
-Reynolds linked with Lieutenant Burney.”
-
-“She would make a fine sheet anchor for an Admiral of the Blue,” laughed
-Jim. “And with your permission, sir, I will postpone my offer until I
-have attained that rank.”
-
-“I have advised Mr. Kendal to hurry things on,” said Garrick gravely.
-“For if you have time to spare before making up your mind, the lady
-cannot reasonably be thought equally fortunate. 'Lieutenant Burney, your
-attitude is not complimentary to the blissful bondage'”--once more it
-was Mr. Kendal who was in the room.
-
-“Call the roll,” said Jim. “Who comes next on your list, Mr. Garrick?”
-
-“Well, I was thinking of Dr. Johnson with Mrs. Abington,” said Garrick;
-“but perhaps you may quibble even at that.”
-
-The room rang with laughter, for everyone had seen the beautiful actress
-whose lead in dress was followed by all the ladies in the fashionable
-world who could afford to do so, and a greater number who could not; and
-the worsted hose and scorched wig, two sizes too small, of Dr. Johnson
-had been gazed at with awe by the Burney family when he visited the
-house in St. Martin's Street.
-
-“Let the banns be published without delay,” cried Jim. “Next pair,
-please.”
-
-“Well, I was thinking of Signor Rauzzini and Mrs. Montagu,” said
-Garrick, “but perhaps that would not be approved of by you any more than
-the others.”
-
-“Nay, Mr. Garrick, I will not have our friends made any longer the
-subject of your fooling,” said Mrs. Burney.
-
-Garrick and Jim had the laugh between them, but it seemed that they
-alone saw the jest of coupling the lively Roman with the mature leader
-of the bluestockings: the girls bent silently over their work.
-
-“Madam,” said Garrick apologetically, “I ask your pardon for my
-imprudence. May I ask which name I am to withdraw? Was my offence the
-introduction of the lady's name or the gentleman's? Oh, I can guess.
-Those rosy-tinted faces before me--I vow that you will find yourself
-going to sea with a chestful of pink shirts, Lieutenant--those sweet
-blushing faces reveal the secret more eloquently than any words could
-do.”
-
-Undoubtedly the three girls were blushing very prettily; but at the
-mention of the word “secret” two of them gave a little start, but
-without looking up.
-
-“The secret--oh, I have been feeling for some time that I was well to
-the leeward of a secret,” cried Jim, “and I'll not start tack or sheet
-until I learn what it is.”
-
-“What, sir; you a sailor and not able to penetrate the secret of a
-pretty girl's blushes!” cried Garrick.
-
-The brother looked at each of his sisters in turn. They continued
-stitching away demurely at his shirts.
-
-“Helm's a-lee,” he said. “Ready about, and off we go on another tack,
-for hang me if I see anything of guilt on their faces, bless 'em! Come,
-Mr. Garrick, you shall interpret them for me. Let me into the secret
-which you say you have read as if it was a book.”
-
-Susy gave a sharp cry.
-
-“The needle!” she said. “That is the third time it has pricked me since
-morning.”
-
-“Pay no attention to her, sir,” cried Garrick. “It was a feint on her
-part to put us off the scent of the secret.”
-
-“In heaven's name, then, let us have it,” cried Jim.
-
-“If you will have it, here it is,” said Garrick. “Your three sisters,
-Mr. Burney, are contemplating applying to Mrs. Montagu to be admitted to
-the freedom and the livery of the Society of Bluestockings. That is why
-they thought it akin to sacrilege for me to introduce the lady's name
-into a jest. Their blush was but a reflex of their guilty intention.”
-
-“Indeed, Mr. Garrick, you go too far sometimes,” said Mrs. Burney. “Mrs.
-Montagu is a worthy lady, and our girls respect her too highly to fancy
-that they have any qualification to be received into her literary set.”
-
-“Faith, Madam, I know my duty too well, I hope, to accuse any of the
-Miss Burneys of possessing literary qualities,” said Garrick. “But what
-I do say is that if such qualities as they possess were to be introduced
-into Mrs. Montagu's set, it would quickly become the most popular
-drawing-room in town. The idea of thinking that any young woman would go
-to the trouble of writing a book when she can reach the heart of mankind
-so much more easily by blushing over the breast of a shirt! Continue
-stitching and doing your own blushing, dear children, and you will never
-give anyone cause to blush for you.”
-
-He bowed elaborately to each of them in turn and afterward to Mrs.
-Burney, and made a most effective exit. He always knew when he should
-go, and never failed to leave a few fragrant phrases behind him, as
-though he had dropped a bunch of roses for the girls to cherish.
-
-“Where should we be without Mr. Garrick?” said James, when he had seen
-the actor to the door and returned to the work-room.
-
-“If only he would not go too far in his jesting,” remarked Mrs. Burney,
-shaking her head. “Mr. Garrick sometimes forgets himself.”
-
-“That is how it comes that he is the greatest actor in the world,” said
-James. “It is only when a man has learned to forget himself completely
-that he causes everyone else to remember him. Now there's the text for a
-homily that you can write to your Daddy Crisp, Fanny.”
-
-“I'll note it, Jim, and if Mr. Crisp breaks off correspondence with me
-you shall bear the blame,” said Fanny.
-
-“Mercy on us!” whispered Susy when she was alone with her sister a
-little later. “I never got such a fright as when Mr. Garrick pretended
-to read your secret. Thank goodness! he failed to get the least inkling
-of it.”
-
-“Thank goodness, indeed!” whispered Fanny. But she was thinking of quite
-a different secret when she spoke.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XVIII
-
-|HE was beside her before she was aware of it, in the great music-room
-at Lady Hales's house. She had not seen him approach her--she could
-not have done so without turning round, for he had approached her from
-behind, and slipped into the chair that Esther had vacated in order to
-play to the company. Esther's husband, who had been in the seat beyond
-her, had been led away some time earlier by Mr. Linley's clever son in
-order that he might give an opinion respecting one of the songs in a
-piece named _The Duenna_, which was about to be produced at Drury Lane.
-
-He was beside her and whispering in her ear, though she had not even
-known that he was to be present.
-
-Of course he went through the pantomimic form of inquiring how it was
-that she was alone--this was, she knew, for the benefit of anyone who
-might be watching them and suspect an assignation. The idea of anyone
-seriously fancying that Dr. Burney's daughter would have an assignation
-with Signor Rauzzini in such a place and in the midst of such a company!
-But Signor Rauzzini came from a land of intrigue, and his experience of
-England led him to believe that he had come to another; and so he made
-those gestures of inquiry, and she gave him a few words of explanation,
-so that no one might suspect! But, for that matter, their chairs were
-in the least conspicuous place in the room, and the shadow of the heavy
-hangings of a window fell half across them both.
-
-“And we have not met for months,” said he in French.
-
-“Nay, have you forgotten our evening at the Pantheon?” she asked.
-
-“Forgotten it? But that is months ago--ages. And it was all
-unfinished--broken off when at its best--mutilated. That hour we had!
-Oh, was it a melody suddenly interrupted when it was approaching its
-best? Was it a poem snatched away by some ruthless hand just when we had
-begun a deathless line?”
-
-“What I remember best is your singing of 'Waft her.' I am not quite sure
-that I have yet returned to the earth from those regions whither I felt
-myself wafted. Are you conscious of having any part in _Dido_ into which
-you can throw yourself with the same spirit?”
-
-“_Dido!_ pah! _Dido_ is a paltry playhouse--Maestro Handel's work is a
-Sistine Chapel--ah, more--more--a noble cathedral. When other composers
-built their garden houses in imitation of Greek temples, he
-spent all his time raising cathedrals. His genius is his
-own--mighty--overpowering! Every time I approach the great _maestro_ I
-feel that I should put off my shoes from my feet. It is holy ground--it
-is--ah, mademoiselle, it was you who led me to chatter of myself and my
-music when we were last together, and I had no wish to do so; I meant to
-talk of yourself alone, but we had parted before I had the chance again.
-I have been wondering ever since if such a chance would return--if I
-had not thrown it away; and now you have lured me once more toward the
-golden net of music; but I have seen it spread: I will not step into it.
-I want to talk to you of love--love and you--and--me.”
-
-He had restrained his voice so that it was no more than a whisper, and
-he had chastened his gestures until he seemed rigid. Fanny knew that
-even if their chairs had not been far away from the next that were
-occupied, his words could reach no ears but her own; but the effort that
-he was making to restrain his gestures--oh, was it not more significant
-to any observant eye than his most florid action would have been? With
-bent head she was conscious of the quivering of the muscles of his
-clenched hands--of the tremulous earnestness of his expressive face.
-Surely everyone who so much as glanced at him would know what was the
-subject of his discourse--and hers--hers--but what should hers be? What
-answer was she to make to such a man whispering such a word as love?
-
-“I am afraid,” she said. “You make me afraid. Is this the place? Is this
-the time? Am I the one?”
-
-“Every place is the place--every time is the time--and you--you are the
-only one,” said he, becoming more fervent every moment. “If you and I
-were alone--but we are alone--our love isolates us--we are alone in the
-splendid isolation of our love. What are these people who are about
-us? They are nothing to us--less than nothing, What are the people in
-a church to the devout one who enters and keeps his eyes fixed upon
-the lovely face of the saint to whom he prays. The saint and he are in
-communion together, and their communion isolates them though the church
-is crowded? I keep my eyes of devotion upon your face, my beautiful
-saint, and I am rapt with the glory of this hour--we are carried away
-on the wings of our love until the world is too far beneath us to be
-seen--only the heaven is revealed to us--to me--I look into your face
-and I have a glimpse of heaven itself! Ah, gentle saint, you will not
-deny me a response--one word--only lift up your eyes--let our eyes meet
-and it will be as if our lips had met. I am but a mortal, but I feel,
-gazing into the face of my saint, as if I were immortal--immortal and
-crossing the threshold of the heaven that is hers--I feel that we are
-equal----”
-
-She drew in her breath--the sound was something like a gasp--the gasp
-of one who has been swept away into the midst of a swirling sea and made
-breathless. She had been swept away on the amazing flood of his words;
-it was not until he had said that word “equal” that she felt herself
-swirled into the air once more, so to speak, and gave that gasp for
-breath: he, too, was breathless after his long and fervid outburst,
-repressed as to tone, but sounding therefore all the more passionate.
-Her gasp sounded like a sigh; his like a sob.
-
-“Not yet--not yet,” she said in a whisper--disjointed and staccato. “I
-cannot listen to you yet. I dare not--I have my pride.”
-
-“Pride? What is pride? How have I wounded your pride?” he said. “Ah,
-my God! you cannot think that I would propose anything that is not
-honourable? You do not look on me as such a wretch? Ah, you cannot.”
-
-“Oh, no, no,” she said quickly. “I would trust you. I have looked into
-your face. I have heard you sing.”
-
-“You place your faith in me? But you cannot do that unless you love me.
-And if you love me--have I been too headlong? Have I startled you? But
-surely you must have seen that on the very first day we met, before I
-had been an hour in your presence, my life was yours. I tell you that
-I knew it--not an hour--one glance was enough to tell me that I was
-all yours, and that for me no other one lived or would ever live in the
-world. What have you to say? Do not you believe me? What did you mean
-by that word 'pride'? It does not seem to me that it had any connection
-with you or me.”
-
-“Do not ask me to explain anything just now,” she said. “You would not
-like to be asked to explain how you came to--to--think of me--to feel in
-regard to me as you have said you do----”
-
-“Why should I shrink from it?” he asked. “But no one who has seen you
-would put such a question to me. I loved you because you were--_you_. Is
-not that enough? It would be sufficient for anyone who knew you. I saw
-you sitting there--so sweetly timid--a little flower that is so startled
-to find itself awakened into life in the spring, that it would fain
-ask the earth to hide it again. I thought of you as that modest little
-flower--a violet trying to obscure its own charm by the leaves that
-surround it; but all in vain--in vain, for its presence has given a
-subtle perfume to the air, and all who breathe of its delicate sweetness
-take the spirit of the spring into their souls and know that a violet
-is there, though hidden from their view. That is how I saw you. I have
-always loved the violet, and felt that shyness and sweetness were ever
-one; and am I to be reproached if I have a longing to pluck my violet
-and have her ever with me?”
-
-“This is madness--the poetry of madness,” she cried, and there was
-really a piteous note in her voice. “But if I did not believe that you
-feel every word that you have spoken, I would let you continue, and
-drink in the sweetness of every word that falls from your lips. It is
-because I know that you are speaking from your heart and because I also
-know my own unworthiness that I pray of you to say no more--yet.”
-
-“Why should I not tell you the truth, if you confess that you believe I
-am speaking sincerely?”
-
-“Sincerely, but in a dream.”
-
-“Is all love a dream, then?--is that what is in your thought?”
-
-“I do not want it to be a dream. I wish the love to continue with your
-eyes open, and therefore I say--not yet.”
-
-“You wish my love to continue? Oh, never doubt that your wish shall be
-granted. But why that 'not yet '? I am weary of this mystery.”
-
-She was perplexed. Why should she hold out any longer against this
-impetuous Prince of the land of King Cophetua? Why should she not be as
-other girls who allow themselves to be lifted out of insignificance by
-the man who loves them. Why should that gift of being able to see more
-closely into the truth of things that most others accept without a
-question, be laid upon her as a burden?
-
-She had a strong impulse to let her resolution go down the wind, and to
-put her hand in his, no matter who might be looking on, and say the word
-to him that would give him happiness. Who was she to suggest that his
-happiness would not endure--that her happiness would not endure?
-
-She was perplexed. She had more than once been called prim; but that
-only meant that it was her nature to weigh everything in a mental
-balance, as it were, and her imagination was equal (she thought) to the
-task of assigning their relative value to the many constituents of human
-happiness. If she had been told that this meant that she had not yet
-been in love, and that she was not now in love, she would not have felt
-uneasy in her mind. She did not mistrust the feeling she had for the man
-who was beside her. Surely this was the very spirit of truth in loving,
-to be ready to sacrifice everything, so that unhappiness should not
-overtake him; and she had long ago felt that unhappiness only could
-result from his linking his life with one who was rather less than a
-mere nobody. The thought never once left her mind of what would be
-said when it was known that she had married him. A dunce's triumph, the
-incident would be styled by the wits, and (assuming that the wits were
-masculine) how would it be styled by the opposite sex? She could see
-uplifted hands--incredulous eyebrows raised, while they discussed it,
-and she knew that the conclusion that everyone would come to was that to
-be the most divine singer in the world did not save a man from being the
-greatest fool in the world.
-
-Was her love the less true because her intelligence insisted on her
-perceiving that such a man as Signor Rauzzini would not be happy if
-married to a nonentity like herself? “Surely not,” she would have
-cried. “Surely it is only the truest of all loves that would be ready
-to relinquish its object rather than bring unhappiness upon him! Is
-intelligence never to be found in association with true love? Must true
-love and folly ever be regarded as allies?”
-
-Her intellect was quick in apprehending the strength of the position
-taken up by two combatants in an argument; but the juxtaposition of the
-Prim and the Passionate was too much for her. She was all intellect; he
-was all passion. Her mental outlook on the situation was acute; but his
-was non-existent. His passion blinded him; her intellect had a thousand
-eyes.
-
-And there he was by her side; she could almost hear the strong beating
-of his heart in the pause that followed his question.
-
-“What is this mystery?”
-
-It was her feeling of this tumultuous beating of his heart that all but
-made her lose her intellectual foothold. His heart beating close to hers
-swayed her as the moon sways the tides, until for some moments she
-could not have told whether it was her heart or his that was beating
-so wildly--only for some moments, however; only long enough for that
-madness to suggest itself to her--to let her resolution fly to the
-winds--what did anything matter so long as she could lay her hand in
-his, and feel his fingers warm over hers? It was her first acquaintance
-with the tyranny of a heart aflame, and for a moment she bent her
-head before it. He thought that he had got the better of her scruples,
-whatever they were, by the way her voice broke as she said:
-
-“Madness--it would be madness!”
-
-He was not acute enough to perceive that she was talking to
-herself--trying to bring her reason to help her to hold out against the
-throbbing of her heart--_his_ heart.
-
-“It would indeed be madness for us to turn our backs upon happiness when
-it is within our reach,” said he. “That is what you would say, sweet
-saint?”
-
-But she had now recovered herself.
-
-“Indeed it is because I have no thought except for your happiness that I
-entreat of you to listen to me,” said Fanny.
-
-“I will listen to you if you tell me in one word that you love me,” said
-he.
-
-There was no pause before she turned her eyes upon him saying:
-
-“You know it. You have never doubted it. It is because I love you so
-truly I wish to save you from unhappiness. I want to hold your love for
-ever and ever.”
-
-“My sweet saint! You have heard my prayers. You are to make me happy.”
-
-“All that I can promise as yet is to save you from supreme unhappiness.
-I am strong enough to do so, I think.”
-
-“You can save me from every unhappiness if you will come to me--and you
-are coming, I know.”
-
-“I hope that if you ask me three months hence I shall be able to say
-'yes'; but now--at this moment--I dare not. It is not so long to ask you
-to wait, seeing that I have let you have a glimpse of my heart, and told
-you that as you feel for me, so I feel for you.”
-
-“Three months is an eternity! Why should it be in three months? Why not
-now?”
-
-She shook her head.
-
-“I cannot tell you. It is my little secret,” she said. “Ah, is it not
-enough that I have told you I love you? I shall never cease to love
-you.”
-
-“Oh, this accursed place! These accursed people!” he murmured. “Why are
-we fated to meet only surrounded by these wretches? Why cannot we meet
-where I can have you in _my_ arms, and kiss your lips that were made for
-kissing?”
-
-There was something terrifying to her in that low whisper of his. He had
-put his head down to her until his lips were close to her ear. She felt
-the warmth of his face; it made her own burn. But she could not move her
-face away to the extent of an inch. Her feminine instinct of flight was
-succeeded by the equally feminine instinct of surrender. If it had been
-his intention--and it certainly seemed that it was--to kiss her in the
-presence of all the company, she would still have been incapable of
-avoiding such a caress.
-
-He swore again in her ear, and Fanny, for all her primness, felt a
-regret deep down in her heart that her training would not allow of her
-expressing herself through the same medium.
-
-But he did not come any nearer to her than that. He changed his phrases
-of abuse of their entourage to words of delight at her presence so close
-to him--alternately passionate and tender. His voice became a song in
-her ears, containing all such variations. His vocalism was equal to the
-demand put upon it. It was his _métier_ to interpret such emotions, and
-now he did justice to his training, even if he fell short--and he was
-conscious of doing so--of dealing adequately with his own feelings.
-He called her once again his sweet saint who had heard his prayer; his
-cherished flower, whose fragrance was more grateful to him than all the
-incense burned in all the temples of the world was to the Powers above.
-
-It was, he repeated, her violet modesty that had first made him adore
-her. Her humility brought before his eyes the picture painted by Guido
-Reni--the Madonna saying: _Ecce ancilla Domini_.
-
-Ah, her humility was divine. And she was so like his mother--his dear
-mother who had died when he was a boy and who had taught him to sing.
-Ah, she was herself now singing in Paradise, and she would look down
-and approve his choice. She, too, had been as meek as a flower, and had
-never been so happy as when they had been together at a little farm in
-Tuscany with him by her side among the olives. Oh, she would approve
-his choice. And quite simply he addressed his dead mother, as though
-she were beside him, asking her if she could desire to have a daughter
-sweeter or more gentle. He had lapsed into his native Italian in this;
-but Fanny could follow his slow, devout words, and her eyes were full of
-tears, her heart of love.
-
-She now perceived how simple and gentle a nature was that of the young
-Roman. He remained unspoilt by the adulation which he had received
-both in his own country and in England. Seeing him thus revealing a
-simplicity which she had not associated with him before, she was led to
-ask herself if there was, after all, so great a difference between them
-as she had believed to exist. She had forgotten all about his singing,
-and he was now in her eyes nothing more than a man--the man who loved
-her. Ah, that was enough. He loved her, and therefore she was bound to
-save him from the mortification of hearing the whispers of the people
-around them asking how he could ever have been stupid enough to marry a
-girl like herself, who was a nobody and without a fortune, when he might
-have chosen any girl in the world.
-
-Her resolution came back to her with greater force than ever. Since
-he had made his nature plain to her, it would, she felt, be taking
-advantage of his simplicity to engage herself to him just as she was.
-She knew more of the world than he did. She knew how the world talked,
-and how it would talk regarding herself as well as regarding him in such
-a matter. He was simple and generous; it was necessary for her to take
-thought for both of them.
-
-“Have you heard me?” he asked of her in a whisper.
-
-“The tears are still in my eyes,” she replied. “Oh, my dear friend,
-cannot you see how bitter it is for me to be compelled to ask you to
-wait for these months that I spoke of? Cannot you see that it is a
-matter of conscience and honour? Ah, I should never forgive myself if I
-were to do other than I have done! If you----”
-
-“Dear one,” said he, “I ask for nothing more than to hear you tell me
-that you love me. Who am I, that I should demand your secret? So long as
-you do not conceal your love from me, I do not mind if you have a score
-of secrets locked away in your white bosom. Tell me again that you love
-me and all must be well.”
-
-She looked at him, but he knew that she could not see a feature of his
-face by reason of the tears that were still in her eyes.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XIX
-
-|IT was on one of the last mornings in January that Mrs. Burney was
-reading out of the newly-arrived _London Chronicle_ such paragraphs as
-she thought would appeal to the varied interests of the breakfast-table.
-There were a few announcements of marriages about to take place between
-people whose names they knew, the amount of the bride's dowry being
-stated in each in plain figures, though Mrs. Burney took it upon her to
-affirm in one or two cases that the sum was exaggerated, or to suggest
-that if the father of the bride were just enough to pay his debts first,
-the portion of his daughter would be considerably reduced. In the case
-of one of the gentlemen, who was marrying thirty thousand pounds, she
-ventured to express the hope that he would now pay at least some of his
-creditors.
-
-These were, of course, the most interesting items of news, though their
-attractiveness was not greatly superior to that of the gossip respecting
-Mr. F------, who had been noticed in high dudgeon because of Lady
-P------'s dancing three times with Sir Julian Y------; or that which
-suggested that a reconcilement must have taken place between the
-beautiful Mrs. G------ and her husband, for they had been seen taking
-the air together in the Park.
-
-It was also pleasant to learn that His Majesty had given great
-encouragement to Mrs. Delany in the production of her ingenious mosaic
-flowers, in which she was so skilled as to excite the wonder of several
-criticks in the Royal circle; and also that His Royal Highness the
-Prince of Wales had been graciously pleased to say in publick that he
-had always admired the Perdita of the beautiful Mrs. Robinson, though he
-considered Mrs. Abington, on the whole, the most tasteful dresser in the
-Drury Lane company.
-
-It was only when Mrs. Burney had folded the newspaper and was about to
-put it away, that a few lines of an advertisement caught her eye--she
-commented before she read, as though she had been a fully qualified
-critic:
-
-“More novels! More stuff for the circulating libraries! Enough to make
-poor Mr. Richardson feel uncomfortable in his grave! Could he but have
-known that he was turning all England into novel readers he would never
-have put pen to paper. Here is another imitator in the field. 'Evelina;
-or, a Young Lady's Entrance into the World,' published to-day by Mr.
-Lowndes--three volumes, seven and sixpence sewed, nine shillings in
-covers. 'Evelina,' a distant cousin to 'Clarissa' and 'Pamela' I doubt
-not. I hope your father will not bring anyone here to dinner to-day.
-Hashed mutton is a wholesome dish, to be sure, but some visitors are
-fastidious. He may bring as many as he pleases to-morrow, for Mr.
-Greville's gift of pheasants will be on the table. Why are you staring
-so at your sister, Lottie?”
-
-Lottie was becoming a hardened dissembler: she scarcely started when
-asked to interpret certain furtive glances she cast at Fanny.
-
-“I was wondering if Fanny would make a face: she never was fond of
-hashed mutton,” said Lottie glibly. “If she had gone to school in France
-she would soon have got a liking for it, cooked as it is there.”
-
-“I am not partial to French kickshaws,” said Mrs. Burney. “There's
-nothing like good English fare. To my thinking, the principle of making
-food tasty when in ordinary circumstances it should not be so, is a bad
-one. Hash of mutton is wholesome food, and it should be eaten as such
-without further question. If Providence had meant it to be tasty as
-well, He would have made His intentions as plain as in the case of roast
-pheasant.”
-
-“Lottie will tell you that I made no face at the mention of hash of
-mutton,” said Fanny. “What does it signify whether one sits down to a
-simple platter of mutton hash or a great dinner such as father gets at
-Mr. Thrale's? A pair of geese, a leg of mutton, a tongue, a rib of roast
-beef and a brace of pheasants, with two or three dishes of fish, and for
-Dr. Johnson a veal pie or a piece of pork--those were on the table at
-one time. What is the benefit of such abundance, when all that one can
-eat is a single slice of beef?”
-
-She spoke rapidly, for she, too, had been a great dissembler. She meant
-to take away her stepmother's attention from those questionable glances
-which she had exchanged with Lottie; and she succeeded very well.
-
-“It would make no difference to us whether we had one dish or ten; but
-it makes all the difference in the world to Mr. Thrale. They say he has
-a prodigious appetite, and eats of at least six heavy dishes of meat at
-dinner.”
-
-“Mr. Baretti affirms that some day he will not awake from the stupor
-into which he falls after one of his heavy meals,” said Susy.
-
-“And all the time Mrs. Thrale is entreating him to be more moderate,”
- cried Lottie.
-
-“A humiliating duty for such as Mrs. Thrale,” said her mother. “That
-shows how true is all that Fanny has remarked: a simple dish should be
-enough for any reasonable person. I have often wondered how the converse
-at the Streatham table could be so wise and witty if the master of
-the house eats like a hog, and Dr. Johnson, suffering from ill-health,
-expends so much energy over his pork that the veins stand out on his
-forehead and his face is bathed in perspiration.”
-
-“I am sure that Mrs. Thrale has wit and liveliness enough to serve for
-the whole company,” said Fanny.
-
-“She is chatty enough, I doubt not,” replied Mrs. Burney. “There are
-those who think she talks over-much for a woman.”
-
-“Not for a woman of fashion,” suggested Lottie with some pertness, when
-their stepmother had left the room. “It is long since Mrs. Thrale has
-invited mother to one of the Streatham dinners,” she added under her
-breath.
-
-And then the three fell upon the _Chronicle_ for the announcement of the
-book.
-
-They read it in whispers, each following the other, as though it were
-the _piano_ part of a catch or a glee, and glancing fearfully toward the
-door now and again, lest it should open and Mrs. Burney reappear.
-
-“How amazing it is!” said Susy. “This is the announcement of the birth
-of a baby--and such a baby!”
-
-“The birth and the christening and all,” said Lottie. “Oh, Fanny, I
-had no idea that it would be in the papers--I forgot that it would be
-advertised; and when mamma read this out I thought I should sink through
-the floor. So did you, I know.”
-
-“I only wish that it had been possible,” said Fanny. “I could feel
-myself getting hot all over my body. And then you gave me that look,
-Lottie!”
-
-“Could I help it?” asked Lottie. “You cannot blame me. I really thought
-that it was you who gave me a look, as much as to say: 'If you let the
-cat out of the bag I will never forgive you--no, never! '”
-
-“Never mind! Among us we managed to get out of the difficulty very well,
-I think. Were we not clever, guiding the conversation away from Mr.
-Lowndes's shop on to the high road to Streatham?” cried Susy.
-
-“'Twas the hash that saved us,” said Lottie. “Have you not heard dear
-Jim applying the sailors' expression, to make a hash of something? But
-we didn't make a hash of our matter, did we, Fanny?” said Susan.
-
-“We have become adroit dissemblers, and I am growing more ashamed of it
-every day,” cried Fanny. “I have reached the condition of a man of whom
-I read in a volume of history: he had committed a crime, and the effort
-that it cost him to keep it hidden so preyed upon his mind that he could
-stand the strain no longer, so he confessed it and was relieved.”
-
-“But he could not have been really happy until they hanged him,” said
-Susy. “And do you intend to confess and be hanged, Fanny? Please do not.
-I think it is the most exciting thing in the world to share a secret
-like this. I would not have missed the enjoyment for anything. Think,
-Fan, if you were to confess, you would draw us into it too--you would
-make us out to be as guilty as yourself.”
-
-“I will not confess,” said Fanny. “No; it would not be honourable of me.
-But I do feel that the secret is having a bad effect upon us all. It has
-made us all such--such--dissemblers.”
-
-“Psha!” said Lottie with a sniff. “That's only another way of saying
-that we are ladies of quality at an early age.”
-
-Fanny shook her head. She thought that if any proof were needed of the
-ill effects of their treasuring their secret from their parents, this
-cynical pertness of Lottie supplied it. She shook her head.
-
-“I should like 'Evelina' to come into mamma's hands,” continued Lottie.
-“She will go through the three volumes at a hand gallop, even though she
-did take it upon her to condemn it as being on a level with the odious
-stuff that comes to us nowadays.”
-
-“And if she condemns it so heartily before she has read it, what will
-she say about it when she has finished the last chapter?” asked Fanny.
-
-“She will say that it is the prettiest story that has been written since
-her dear Mr. Richardson died,” said Susy.
-
-“I doubt it, my dear,” said Fanny.
-
-“Well, let the worst come, she will never guess that you wrote it,”
- laughed Lottie.
-
-“It is the padre whom I fear,” said Fanny. “Surely he will not need to
-go beyond the Ode on the first leaf to know that it is he himself whom I
-address.”
-
-“And if he should--smoke it?” asked Susy, lapsing into slang which she
-had acquired from her sailor brother, who was in no sense a purist.
-
-“If he should--well, either of two things will happen,” replied the
-authoress. “He will either think me the most double-dealing wretch in
-the world or the most dutiful of daughters.”
-
-“And which will be right?” asked Lottie.
-
-“Both views will be right,” said Fanny. “Although I meant every word
-of the Ode, I really think now that the idea of writing it before the
-dedication came to me only when I felt that I had behaved badly in
-sending the book to the printer without his consent.”
-
-“You wished the Ode to be a sort of peace-offering?” said Susy. “You
-hoped that when he read it he would forget to be angry? Well, that was
-cunning of you, Fanny!”
-
-“I tell you that the whole affair has had a bad effect upon us all,”
- said Fanny gently.
-
-Once again she was conscious of someone telling her that there was no
-use crying over spilt milk, and this impression was followed by one that
-took the form of a resolution to be more careful in future. If she
-had spilt some milk once, that was no reason why she should not, by
-exercising proper forethought, refrain from doing so again.
-
-But the book was now given to the world, if the world would have it, but
-as yet a copy had not come into her hand. She wondered if she would
-have to spend seven and sixpence in buying a copy. Seven shillings and
-sixpence, sewed. It was a great deal of money. Was it possible that
-there were five hundred people in the world ready to pay seven and
-sixpence for a novel with the name of no author on the title page?
-(She thought it best to leave out of her consideration altogether the
-possible purchasers of the nine shilling set of bound volumes.)
-
-Who were the people that ever laid out so much money upon books which
-could be read through between the rising and the setting of the sun?
-She had never met such liberal enthusiasts. Of course, it was only
-reasonable that so splendid a work as the “History of Music” should be
-in the library of every house wherein people of taste resided, but that
-was not a book to be galloped through; some people might not be able to
-read it within a month. Besides, it bore the honoured name of Dr. Burney
-on the title page, and the fame of Dr. Burney was great. But as for that
-poor little seven-and-sixpenny sewed “Evelina,” how should anyone take
-an interest in her without reading her story? How would anyone read her
-story without feeling afterwards that seven-and-sixpence (leaving the
-nine shilling expenditure out of the question) was a ridiculous price to
-pay for such an entertainment?
-
-She felt that people would come to look on her as the instigator of a
-fraud if they paid their money and read the book and then found out
-that she had written it. The wisdom of concealing her name even from the
-bookseller was now more apparent to her than it had ever been. She had
-visions of indignant purchasers railing against Mr. Lowndes, and Mr.
-Lowndes searching for her, so that he might rail against her; and so her
-speculations ended in laughter; but even her laughter grated upon her
-sensitive ears: she felt that it was the malicious jeering of a clever
-cheat at the thought of having got the better of a worthy man.
-
-Her precious “Evelina” was leading her a pretty dance. If it had not
-been able to do so it would have been a paltry sort of book and she
-would have been a paltry sort of author.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XX
-
-|TWO or three weeks passed without her hearing anything of the book, and
-it seemed as if it had fallen, as she had at some moments hoped it would
-fall, like a dull stone into the depths of the sea. She heard nothing of
-it, and soon she perceived that her sisters felt grievously disappointed
-at its failure to produce any impression upon the town. Even a dull
-stone, if dropped into the deep, creates a little fuss on the surface
-before it sinks out of sight; but Fanny's book did not, so far as they
-could see, produce even so superficial an impression. What they expected
-of it they might have had some trouble explaining; but as it was, they
-could not conceal their disappointment from Fanny; and they showed it
-after a short time in a very delicate way: they never alluded to the
-book in her presence. She perceived that what was in their minds was
-that it would show very bad taste on their part to refer to it in any
-way. She was grateful for their consideration; and she resolved to
-accept their decision on this point as final; she would never allude to
-the horrid thing in their hearing.
-
-It so happened, however, that she was left alone with Susy in the house
-one evening. Dr. Burney and his wife had gone to a concert at Esther's,
-and Lottie was staying for a day or two in the country. Susy was
-practising her part of a new duet on the piano, and Fanny was at her
-sewing. So far as conversation between the two sisters was concerned,
-the evening had been a very silent one. Indeed, during the whole week a
-constrained silence had marked the intercourse of the three girls.
-
-Susy hammered away at the music for half an hour; then her playing
-became more fitful, and at last it ceased altogether.
-
-There was a long silence before Fanny heard a little sound that caused
-her to raise her head. It was the sound of a sob, and when she looked up
-she saw that Susy was leaning her forehead upon the bottom of the music
-rest, weeping bitterly.
-
-Fanny was by her side in a moment.
-
-“Dearest Susy, what is the matter?” she said soothingly. “Tell me, dear;
-has anything happened? Has anyone been unkind to you? Have I unwittingly
-done or said anything that seemed to you unkind? Tell me all, Susy.”
-
-But Susy continued crying with her face hidden, though she yielded one
-of her hands to Fanny.
-
-“Come, my dear, I have helped you before now, and I may be able to help
-you now. Prithee, what is your trouble?” said Fanny, putting her arm
-round the girl's shoulders.
-
-Still Susy remained silent, except for her sobs.
-
-“Tell me,” said Fanny, in a whisper. “Is it that you think that I am
-chagrined about--about--the book?”
-
-In an instant Susy had whirled round on her seat and flung her arms
-round her sister's neck, laying her head on her shoulder.
-
-“Oh, Fanny, Fanny, 'tis too cruel!” she sobbed. “We were sure that so
-much would come of it--it seemed so splendid to read, even before it
-was printed--so much better than any other story that ever came into our
-hands--and you worked so hard at it--every spare moment when you might
-have been enjoying yourself--in the cold of last winter up in that
-room--and at Lynn too--and Chessington--and now, when we think that your
-cleverness, your patience, your genius, is to be rewarded, nothing comes
-of it--all your trouble has gone for nothing--all our secrecy! Oh, it is
-too cruel!”
-
-“You dear child,” said Fanny. “It is only cruel if it sets you crying in
-this way. What does it matter to anyone if the book has gone and nothing
-has come of it? I have been thinking that writing a book and publishing
-it is like throwing a stone into the sea. It may fall so that it sinks
-down plumb, or it may fall so that it makes a splash for a while, but
-it sinks to the bottom all the same. Success or failure is only the
-difference between a splash and a ripple. We were fools to fancy that
-our little stone would float.”
-
-“But it was not a stone, it was full of life and it should have--it
-should have--swum! Oh, the people who buy books are so stupid!”
-
-“They are--that was the hope that I builded on. They are stupid, but not
-stupid enough to buy my book.”
-
-“Oh, Fanny!”
-
-“That is really the frame of mind that I find myself in to-day. I tell
-you truly, Susy, that after the first week, I schooled myself to think
-of the business in this way; and I am certain that in another month I
-shall even feel delighted that my little pebble made no splash. Look at
-the matter philosophically, Susy.”
-
-“Oh, philosophically!”
-
-“Well, reasonably. Are we in a different position to-day from that we
-were in before the book was published? We are not. We are just the same
-as we were before. It has not injured us in any way. Nay, if you think
-of it, we are--I, at least, am--all the better for having failed, for I
-have learned my lesson. I was beginning to feel cleverer than I had any
-right to think myself, and this has come as a chastening--to make me
-know my right place. These rebukes do not come by chance, Susy. I know
-now that I was inclined to hold my head too high. I don't think that I
-will do so again.”
-
-“You never held your head too high--just the opposite. And I think it
-very cruel that you should be rebuked for nothing. But I do not blame
-_anyone_ except the wretched people who refused to buy your nice book,
-but spent their seven and sixpence at Vauxhall or Ranelagh--perhaps
-watching Mr. Foote and his puppets at the Haymarket. Oh, I have no
-patience with them! Why, it only needed a thousand people to buy the
-book and it would have been accounted a success!”
-
-“Then we shall put the blame on the shoulders of that thousand,
-wheresoever they may be found, and for my part I shall not hold a second
-thousand altogether blameless--my indignation may even extend to a
-third. Now, that's the last word I mean to speak about the book. It
-has by this time reached the bottom of the sea on which I threw it; and
-there let it lie!”
-
-“You are an angel--I see that plainly now.”
-
-“Ah, there you see, what I said was true: I am much better for the
-rebuke I talked about; you never perceived before that I was an angel.
-Now let that be the last word between us on the subject of my poor
-little 'Evelina.' Her entrance into the world has proved fatal. Oh,
-Susy, she was stillborn, but her parent is making a rapid recovery.”
-
-“That may be; but cannot you join with me in----”
-
-“I will join with you in maintaining silence on the subject of the little
-one. I cannot bear to hear her name mentioned. I refuse to say another
-word about her or her fate. She must have been greatly beloved of
-the gods to die so young. Let that be 'Evelina's' epitaph. I will say
-nothing more about her.”
-
-It so happened, however, that she was compelled to say a good deal more
-on the subject, for within half an hour Cousin Edward had called, and he
-began to talk of “Evelina” at once.
-
-“I went to Hill's library in the Strand yesterday, to get a book for
-mother, and there, sure enough, I saw your 'Evelina,'” said he. “I asked
-the man in charge what it was about, and he replied that he didn't know;
-it was bad enough, he thought, to be compelled to hand out books all day
-to readers without being forced to read them for himself; but he
-supposed that 'Evelina' was a novel of the usual sort.”
-
-“That was not extravagant praise,” remarked Susy.
-
-“He didn't mean to praise it,” said Edward. “But when I asked him if
-anyone who had read it had recommended it, he admitted that every one
-of the five ladies who had read it was ready to speak well of it--one of
-them had taken it away a second time; and--would you believe it?--while
-I was standing at the counter a footman entered the shop with a demand
-for 'Eveliena,' as he called it; and he carried off the copy that was
-already on the desk.”
-
-“For the delectation of the servants' hall?” suggested Fanny.
-
-“Not at all--it had been recommended to her ladyship, he said, and he
-had been commanded on no account to return without it; her ladyship
-was liberal; she would not mind paying sixpence for it, instead of the
-ordinary fourpence.”
-
-“That was more than liberal, it was generous to a degree,” said Fanny.
-
-“Don't interrupt him,” cried Susy. “Continue your narrative, Eddy. I am
-dying to hear the rest.”
-
-“I asked the library man if he knew who wrote the book, and he
-replied that he had heard the name, but had forgotten it; so far as he
-remembered the author was a peer of high rank but eccentric habits,”
- said Edward.
-
-“The book represented his eccentric habits, I suppose,” remarked Fanny.
-
-“I ran out of the place roaring,” said Edward. “'A peer of high rank but
-eccentric habits'--describes you to a T, doesn't it, Cousin Fanny? Pray
-what is your lordship's next work to be, and when will it be given to an
-eager world?”
-
-“Is that all you have to tell?” asked Susy.
-
-“By no means. When I heard that the book was thought well of in
-the Strand, I thought I would try to get at the opinion of Stanhope
-Street--you know Masterman's circulating library there? Well, I boldly
-entered, and there, sure enough, was a well-thumbed 'Evelina' in front
-of the librarian. I asked for some book that no one had ever heard of,
-and when the librarian had told me that he had never been asked for that
-book before, I pointed to 'Evelina,' inquiring if it was any good. 'I'm
-dead tired on account of its goodness, for I was fool enough to take
-it to bed with me last night, and I never closed my eyes in sleep,'
-he replied. 'I had it praised to me by a lady of quality, and so too
-hastily concluded that it would either send me asleep with its dullness,
-or shock me with its ribaldry; but it did neither, unhappily.' Just then
-a chariot stopped at the door and another footman entered with the name
-'Evelina' written on a sheet of paper, and off he popped with the full
-three volumes under his arm. I waited no longer; but hurried hither
-to give you my news. I did not get so far, however, for I was unlucky
-enough to be overtaken by that vile downpour of rain, and it did not
-blow over until your dinner hour was at hand.”
-
-“You are my good angel,” cried Fanny, her cheeks glowing. “We have heard
-nothing of all this respecting the book, and, hearing nothing, we took
-it for granted that it was dead--dead before it was ever alive. Oh, this
-is good news you have brought us, Eddy!”
-
-“The best news that has come to us for months!” said Susy. She had
-turned her head away and was furtively wiping her eyes. The good news
-affected the sympathetic Susy almost as deeply as her disappointment had
-done.
-
-“But I have only told you of my adventures of yesterday,” said
-Edward. “To-day I tried the booksellers, beginning with Mr. Davies and
-working-round to the Dillys in the Poultry--it cost me three shillings,
-for I had to buy something that I did not particularly want in every
-shop to excuse my inquiries--and I found 'Evelina' on every counter. I
-cannot say that any customer came in to buy it while I was in any shop,
-but you may be sure that the book would not be on the counter unless it
-was highly thought of. Of course I had need to be very discreet among
-the booksellers; I dared not ask who was the author, but I longed to do
-so, if only to hear what new story had been made up about it.”
-
-“You heard quite enough to make us glad,” cried Susy. “Oh, how foolish
-we were to take it for granted that because we had no news of the book,
-it was dead! It is alive--greatly alive, it would appear! How could any
-news of it have come to us here? We should have gone forth in search of
-it.”
-
-“I knew that we could depend on your discretion,” said Fanny, laying a
-hand on each of his shoulders. “I do not think that I ever thanked you
-as I should for the wise way in which you managed the business with Mr.
-Lowndes, and now I must not neglect to do so for having acted the part
-of a benevolent agent in bringing us such good news about the book.”
-
-“Psha! there should be no talk of gratitude and the like between us,”
- said he. “There are family ties--I think of the honour of our family.
-People already talk of the clever Burneys, but they left you out of the
-question, Cousin Fanny, since they only thought of music. But now
-that you have shown what you can do in another direction, you must be
-reckoned with alongside the others.”
-
-“And what about the other branch of the clever Burneys?” said Fanny.
-“Don't you think that people will some of these days begin to ask if
-Edward Burney, the great painter, is really a brother of the musical
-Burneys? I hope they will, dear Edward; I hope that the fame of Edward
-Burney, the painter, will go far beyond that of the musical Burneys, as
-well as poor Fanny Burney who once wrote a novel.”
-
-The young man blushed as Fanny herself would certainly have done if
-confronted with the least little compliment. But there was no false
-shame about his acceptance of her suggestion.
-
-“I mean to become as good a painter as I can, in order to be worthy of
-the name of Burney,” said he. “I feel proud of being a Burney--more so
-to-day than ever before, and I hope that the rest of the Burney's will
-some day look on me as doing credit to our name.”
-
-“I am sure that they will have every reason to do so,” said Fanny.
-
-When he had gone, Susy gave way to her delight at the news which he had
-brought. She was a good deal taller than Fanny, and catching her round
-the waist after the manner of the Elizabethan dancer with his partner,
-she danced round the table with her, lilting a somewhat breathless pæan.
-Fanny herself needed no coaxing to be her partner in this revel. In
-her jubilant moments she got rid of the primness which most people
-associated with her. She had a wild jig known as “Nancy Dawson,” and
-she had more than once found it necessary to get rid of her superfluous
-spirits through this medium. She joined in her sister's little whoop
-at the completion of the third “lap” of the table, and they both threw
-themselves breathless on the sofa.
-
-“I knew it,” said Susy between her gasps. “I knew that I could not be
-mistaken in believing 'Evelina' to be good--I knew that she would make
-her way in the affections of her readers, and I was right--you see I was
-right.”
-
-“You were right, dear Susy--quite right,” said Fanny. “I do not like
-to be too sanguine, but I do believe, from the reports Eddy brought us,
-that the book will find plenty of readers. Now that we can think over
-the matter in a reasonable way, we must see how foolish we were to
-expect that the very day after the book was published people would crowd
-to buy it; but now, after six weeks, when Eddy goes in search of news
-about it, he brings back a report which is--we had best say for the
-present no more than 'quite satisfactory'--that was the bookseller's
-report about the sales of the first volume of the padre's
-'History'--'quite satisfactory'--that should be quite satisfactory for
-the author of 'Evelina' and her sisters. There is nothing in the book to
-stir people as it would if written by Mr. Wilkes, but in its humble way
-it will, I am now persuaded, be pronounced 'quite satisfactory.' At any
-rate, there goes my sewing for the evening.”
-
-She rolled up the strip of linen into a ball and used her hand, after
-two false starts, as a battledore, to send it flying across the room
-within reach of Susy, who, being more adroit, was able at the first
-attempt to return it with both force and precision. Once more Fanny
-struck it, and her sister sent it back, but by this time the unequal
-ball had opened out, so that it was only by her foot that Fanny could
-deal with it effectively. Then, daintily holding up their petticoats,
-the author of “Evelina” and Susy Burney played with the thing until once
-more they were panting and laughing joyously.
-
-Perhaps Fanny had a faint inkling of the symbolism implied by this
-treatment of the discarded needlework.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXI
-
-|BUT little Miss Burney had recovered all her primness on the evening
-when, a week later, she accompanied her stepmother to partake of tea at
-the home of the Barlowes in the Poultry.
-
-Young Mr. Barlowe had, for some time after his visit to St. Martin's
-Street, brooded over his indiscretion in allowing his impulse at the
-moment of saying good night to carry him away so that he pressed Miss
-Burney's hand, looking into her eyes with an expression in his own of
-the deepest sympathy--rather more than sympathy. He felt that he had
-been unduly and indiscreetly hasty in his action. It had been purely
-impulsive. He had by no means made up his mind that Miss Burney would
-make him a satisfactory wife. His father and mother had, for a long
-time, thought very highly of Mrs. Burney, looking on her as a most
-thrifty and excellent manager of a household. She had shown herself
-to be all this and more when her first husband was alive and they had
-visited her at Lynn; and she had proved her capabilities in the same
-direction since she had married Dr. Burney. Unfortunately, however,
-the virtues of a stepmother could not be depended on to descend to the
-children of her husband's family, and it was by no means certain that
-Miss Burney had made full use of her opportunities of modelling herself
-upon her father's second wife.
-
-No, he had not quite made up his mind on this subject--the gravest that
-had ever occupied his attention, and he remained sleepless for hours,
-fearful that he had gone too far in that look and that squeeze. He had
-heard of fathers and even brothers waiting upon young men who had acted
-toward a daughter or a sister pretty much as he had in regard to Miss
-Burney. He had rather a dread of being visited by Miss Burney's brother,
-that young naval officer who had boasted of having been educated by a
-murderer. Mr. Barlowe thought that a visit from such a young man would
-be most undesirable, and for several days he went about his business
-with great uneasiness.
-
-But when a week had gone by and neither father nor brother had waited
-upon him, he began to review his position more indulgently than when he
-had previously given it his consideration. He thought more hopefully of
-Miss Burney as a wife. Perhaps she might have profited more largely than
-he had thought by her daily intercourse with so capable a woman as Mrs.
-Burney. At any rate, she was not musical, and that was something in her
-favour. Then her stepmother had praised her needlework, and everyone
-knows that to be a good sempstress is next to being a good housekeeper.
-
-He thought that on the whole she would do. Her brother, Lieutenant
-Burney, would naturally spend most of his time at sea. That was a good
-thing. Thomas felt that he should hesitate to make any change in his
-life that involved a liability of frequent visits from a young man who
-had been taught by a murderer. Who could tell what might happen in the
-case of such a young man? As for Miss Burney herself, she was,
-quite apart from her housewifely qualities, a most estimable young
-lady--modest and retiring, as a young woman should be, and very
-beautiful. To be sure, he had often heard that beauty was only skin
-deep, but even assuming that it did not go any deeper, it had always
-been highly esteemed by men--none of them seemed to wish it to be of any
-greater depth; and it was certain that a man with a handsome wife was
-greatly envied--more so even than a man who was married to a plain woman
-but a good housewife. Oh, undoubtedly her beauty commended her to his
-most indulgent consideration. He had no objection in the world to be
-widely envied, if only on account of his wife's good looks. It never
-occurred to him that it might be that some people would think very
-ordinary a face that seemed to one who was in love with it extremely
-lovely. He preserved the precious privilege of a man to raise up his own
-standard of beauty and expect all the rest of the world to acknowledge
-its supremacy.
-
-Yes, he thought that Miss Burney, beauty and all, would suit him, but
-still he hesitated in making another call.
-
-This was when Mr. Kendal had the honour of waiting upon Mrs. Burney, and
-his visit only preceded by a day or two Mrs. Burney's call upon her old
-friend, Mrs. Barlowe, in the Poultry; this interchange of courtesies
-being speedily followed by an invitation for Mrs. Burney and a
-stepdaughter to drink tea with the Barlowe family.
-
-“I am taking you with me, Fanny, because you are the eldest and, as
-should be, the most sensible of the household,” said Mrs. Burney,
-explaining--so far as she thought wise--the invitation on the morning it
-was received. “There will be no music at Mrs. Barlowe's, I think, and
-so you will have no distracting influence to prevent your forming a just
-opinion of my old friends.”
-
-“I do not mind in the least the absence of music for one night,” said
-Fanny.
-
-“I am sure of that,” said Mrs. Burney. “Goodness knows we have music
-enough here during any day to last us over a whole week. The
-others could not live without it, even if it were not your father's
-profession.”
-
-“Without which none of us could live,” remarked Fanny, who had no
-wish to be forced into the position of the opponent of music in the
-household.
-
-“Quite right, my dear,” acquiesced the elder lady. “It is a precarious
-way of making a living. To my mind there is nothing so satisfactory as a
-good commercial business--a merchant with a shop at his back can afford
-to laugh at all the world.”
-
-“But he usually refrains,” said Fanny.
-
-“True; he looks at life with proper seriousness, and without levity.
-Great fortunes are the result of serious attention to business. Levity
-leads to poverty.”
-
-“Except in the case of Mr. Garrick and a few others.”
-
-“Mr. Garrick is certainly an exception. But, then, you must remember
-that he was a merchant before he became an actor, and his business
-habits never left him. I have heard it said that he got more out of his
-company for the salaries he paid than any theatre manager in Europe.
-But I did not come to you to talk about Mr. Garrick. I only meant to say
-that I know you are an observant girl. You do not merely glance at the
-surface of things, so I am sure that you will perceive much to respect
-in all the members of Mrs. Barlowe's family.”
-
-“I am sure they are eminently--respectable, mamma; and I am glad that
-you have chosen me to be your companion this evening. I like going among
-such people--it is useful.”
-
-She stopped short in a way that should have aroused the suspicions of
-Mrs. Burney, but that lady was unsuspecting, she was only puzzled.
-
-“Useful?” she said interrogatively.
-
-Fanny had no mind to explain that she thought herself rather good at
-describing people of the Barlowe type, and was ready to submit herself
-to more experience of them in case she might be encouraged to write
-another novel. But she knew that she would have some difficulty in
-explaining this to her stepmother, who herself was an excellent type.
-
-“Useful--perhaps I should rather have said 'instructive,'” she replied,
-after a little pause.
-
-“Instructive, yes; I am glad that you look at our visit so sensibly--I
-knew you would do so. Yes, you should learn much of the excellence of
-these people even in the short time that we shall be with them. And it
-is well that you should remember, my dear Fanny, that you are now quite
-old enough to have a house of your own to look after.”
-
-It was now Fanny's turn to seem puzzled.
-
-“I do not quite see how--I mean why--why--that is, the connection--is
-there any connection between----?”
-
-“What I mean to say is that if at some time a suitor for your hand
-should appear, belonging to a respectable mercantile family, you will
-know, without the need of any telling, that your chances of happiness
-with such a man are far greater than they would be were you to wed
-someone whose means of getting a living were solely the practice of some
-of the arts, as they are called--music or painting or the rest.”
-
-“I do not doubt that, mamma,” said Fanny demurely. She was beginning to
-think that her stepmother was a far better type than she had fancied.
-
-And her stepmother was beginning to think that she had never given Fanny
-credit for all the good sense she possessed.
-
-The six o'clock tea-party in the Poultry was a function that Fanny
-Burney's quick pen only could describe as it deserved to be described.
-All the time that it was proceeding her fingers were itching to start
-on it. She could see Mr. Crisp smiling in that appreciative way that he
-had, as he read her smart sentences, every one of them with its little
-acid flavour, that remained on the palate of his memory. She was an
-artist in character drawing, and she was one of the first to perceive
-how excellent was the material for artistic treatment that might be
-found in the house of the English tradesman--the superior tradesman
-who aspired to be called a merchant. She neglected no opportunity of
-observing such houses; it was only when she was daily consorting with
-people of the highest rank that she became alarmed lest her descriptions
-should be accepted as proof that she was in the habit of meeting on
-terms of intimacy the types of English bourgeois which she had drawn.
-
-The ground-floor of Mr. Barlowe's house in the Poultry was given over to
-his business, which, as has already been mentioned, was that of a
-vendor of gold and silver lace. The walls carried shelves from floor to
-ceiling, and every shelf had its line of boxes enclosing samples of an
-abundant and valuable stock. The large room at the back was a sort of
-counting-house parlour, where Mr. Barlowe sat during the day with his
-son and an elderly clerk, ready for the customers, whose arrival was
-announced by the ringing of a spring.-bell. The scales for the weighing
-of the bullion and the worked gold and silver wire were suspended above,
-the broad counter in the shop, and from a hook between the shelves there
-hung a number of ruled forms with spaces for oz., dwt. and grs. On these
-were entered the particulars of the material supplied to the workmen who
-made up the lace as required. The upper part of the house was the home
-of the family, the spacious dining-room being in the front, its convex
-windows overhanging the busy thoroughfare. Opening off this apartment
-was an equally large drawingroom, and the furniture of both was of
-walnut made in the reign of Queen Anne, with an occasional piece of
-Dutch marqueterie of the heavier character favoured by the craftsmen of
-the previous sovereigns. The rooms themselves were panelled with oak and
-lighted by candles in brass sconces.
-
-It seemed to Fanny, on entering the diningroom, that every seat was
-occupied. But she soon saw that there were several vacant chairs. It
-was the imposing row of figures confronting her that made the room seem
-full, although only six persons were present besides young Mr. Barlowe
-and his parents, who met Mrs. Burney and her stepdaughter at the door.
-Fanny greeted Thomas at once, and she could see that his eyes were
-beaming, but with a rather more subdued light than shone in them on that
-night when he had pressed her hand.
-
-She was conscious, at the same time, of the approach of a big elderly
-gentleman, wearing a well-ordered wig, evidently newly curled, with a
-small lady clad in expensive and expansive black silk by his side. He
-was holding the tips of her fingers and they advanced in step as though
-they were starting to dance a minuet.
-
-They stood in front of her and her mother, while Thomas, moving to one
-side, said, making a low bow:
-
-“Miss Burney, I have the honour to present to you my father, Mr.
-Barlowe, and my mother, Mrs. Barlowe. Mrs. Burney, madam, you are, I
-know, already acquainted with my parents.”
-
-The little lady curtsied and her husband made a fine shopkeeper's bow,
-first to Fanny, then to Mrs. Burney.
-
-The formality of the presentation was overwhelming to poor Fanny. She
-could feel herself blushing, and she certainly was more overcome than
-she had been when Count Orloff, the Russian, visited the house in St.
-Martin's Street and she gazed with awe upon the thumb that had, it was
-rumoured, pressed too rigidly the wind-pipe of the unfortunate Peter.
-All that she could do was to try to hide her confusion by the deepest of
-curtsies.
-
-“We are sensible of the honour you have done us, madam,” said Mr.
-Barlowe when he had recovered himself--he was addressing Fanny, ignoring
-for the moment the presence of Mrs. Burney.
-
-“Our son has spoken to us of you with great admiration, Miss Burney,”
- said the little lady. “But I protest that when I look at you I feel as
-King Solomon did when he saw the Queen of Sheba, the half has not been
-told.”
-
-“Oh, madam, you flatter me,” said Fanny, trying to put some force into a
-voice that her shyness had rendered scarcely audible.
-
-Her stepmother, perceiving how she was suffering, hastened to greet in
-a much less formal way their host and hostess; but she had considerable
-difficulty in bringing them down to her level. It seemed that they had
-prepared some high phrases of welcome for their younger visitor only,
-and they had no mind that they should be wasted.
-
-“My stepdaughter is of a retiring nature,” said Mrs. Burney. “She is
-quite unused to such ceremony as you honour her with. Well, Martha, how
-is the rheumatism?”
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXII
-
-|MRS. BARLOWE did not seem half pleased to be brought down so from the
-high parallels of etiquette among which she had been soaring. But she
-had lost her place, and before she could recover herself, Fanny had
-slipped behind her stepmother.
-
-“Ask me all about her rheumatism, madam, for 'tis me that knows more
-about it than her,” said Mr. Barlowe, with a jerk of his thumb and a
-wink in the direction of his wife. The homely enquiry of Mrs. Burney had
-clearly forced him to throw off all ceremony and treat the visit of Miss
-Burney as an ordinary domestic incident.
-
-His wife would have none of this, however; she said in tones of stiff
-reproof:
-
-“Mr. Barlowe, you forget that the young lady has not been presented to
-Brother Jonathan or the Alderman. Thomas, it is for you to usher the
-lady into the presence of your uncles and aunts. Pray be not remiss,
-Thomas. There is no excuse for such an omission.”
-
-“I was only waiting until you had finished, ma'am,” said Thomas.
-
-“I have finished,” she replied, with a stiff nod. “To be sure, 'twas my
-intention to express, in what I trust would be appropriate terms, our
-happiness in welcoming Miss Burney to our humble home; a few phrases of
-this sort were not thought out of place when I was young; but it appears
-that your father knows better what is _comme il faut_ and _haut ton_
-than me. Bring the young lady forward, Thomas.”
-
-The younger Thomas looked dubiously from his mother to his father.
-He was uncommonly like an actor who had forgotten his part, Fanny
-thought--he had no initiative. Fanny herself was more at home than any
-of the household. While the young man hesitated, she walked up the room
-as if she meant to present herself to the six figures that sat in a row
-at the farther end.
-
-Thomas was beside her in a moment.
-
-“I ask your pardon, Miss Burney,” he said. “But I knew that mamma had at
-least two more welcomes for your ear, and I feared that she had forgot
-them. Do not you think that mamma speaks well? Perhaps it would be
-unjust to judge her by what she said--she only made a beginning. You
-will be delighted when you are going away.”
-
-Fanny felt that this prediction was certain to be realized.
-
-“Yes, mamma's good-byes are as well worded as her greetings,” he
-continued; “a clergyman could scarcely better them; and I hope----”
-
-But now they were face to face with the six figures sitting in a row,
-and as his conversation was only designed as an accompaniment to the
-march of Fanny to this position, there was no reason to continue it.
-
-The figures were of two men and four ladies. The former were middle-aged
-and bore an expression of gravity that a judge might have envied. Their
-dress was sombre, but of the finest material possible to buy, and each
-of them was painfully conscious of being in unusual garments. Of course,
-Fanny saw in a moment that they were merchants wearing the garments in
-which they attended church.
-
-Of the four ladies, three were elderly and the fourth much younger. They
-wore their hair built up in a way that suggested that they desired to
-follow the fashion but had not the courage to complete the scheme with
-which they had started. The long and thin and highly-coloured feathers
-which crowned the stunted structures on their heads gave them the
-appearance of a picture of unfamiliar birds. Their dresses were
-extremely glossy and of an expensive material, but there was an
-eccentric note about all that made them seem not impressive as they
-should have been, but almost ludicrous. The youngest lady in the row
-showed unmistakable signs of being given to simpering. She had gone much
-further than the others of the party in the architecture of her hair,
-but that was possibly because the material at her command was more
-abundant. The dressing of her hair, however, was by no means in sympathy
-with the style of her garments, the latter being simple and indeed
-rather too girlish for the wearer, who looked between twenty-five and
-thirty.
-
-It was an extraordinary ordeal that confronted Miss Burney, for young
-Mr. Barlowe began presenting her to the group, starting from his left
-and working slowly to the last of the row on the right. There was
-she with the young man standing close to her, but sideways, doing the
-formalities of presenting her, while his father and mother stood behind
-to see that he omitted nothing. Mrs. Burney, a little way apart, was
-alternately smiling and frowning at the ceremonial. She could see, from
-observing the effect that the whole business was producing upon Fanny,
-that the Barlowes were defeating their own ends, assuming that
-they desired Fanny to become a member of their family. These absurd
-formalities were, Mrs. Burney knew, quite out of place in a private
-house. But what could she do to cut them short? She had made an attempt
-before, and it was received in anything but a friendly spirit by their
-hostess, so that she did not feel inclined to interfere again: the thing
-must run its course, she felt, reflecting upon it as though it were a
-malady. There was no means of curtailing it.
-
-And its course was a slow one for the unhappy victim.
-
-“Miss Burney, I have the honour to present my aunt on my mother's
-side--Mrs. Alderman Kensit,” droned Thomas, and the lady on the extreme
-left rose at the mention of her name and made a carefully prepared
-curtsey, while the sky-blue feather in her hair jerked awkwardly forward
-until the end almost touched her nose.
-
-“Proud to meet Miss Burney, I vow,” said she as she rose; and anyone
-could see from the expression on her face that she was satisfied that
-she had gone far in proving her claim to be looked on as a lady of
-fashion. She had never said “I vow” before, and she knew that it had
-startled her relations. She felt that she could not help that. Miss
-Burney would understand that she was face to face with someone who had
-mingled with the best.
-
-“And this is Aunt Maria, father's sister, Mrs. Hutchings,” came the
-voice of Thomas, and the second lady bobbed up with quivering feathers
-and made a well-practised curtsey. She did not trust herself to speak.
-Having heard her neighbour's “I vow,” she knew that she could not go
-farther. She would not compete with such an exponent of the mysteries of
-_haut ton_.
-
-“And this is Alderman Kensit of the Common Council; he is my uncle on my
-mother's side--mother is a Kensit, you know,” resumed Thomas. “And
-this is Aunt Jelicoe. My mother's sister married Mr. Jelicoe, of Tooley
-Street. And this is my cousin, Miss Jelicoe. I am sure that you will
-like Miss Jelicoe, Miss Burney, she is so young.”
-
-The youngest lady of the group simpered with great shyness, concealing
-half her face with her fan and holding her head to one side, and then
-pretending to be terribly fluttered. Her curtsey was made in a flurry,
-and with a little exclamation of “Oh, la!”
-
-Another uncle only remained to be presented; he turned out to be Mr.
-Jonathan Barlowe, and he was, Thomas whispered half audibly to Fanny, in
-trade in the Indies.
-
-It was all over, curtsies and bows and exclamations--echoes of the world
-of fashion and elsewhere--she had been presented to every member of the
-row and they had resumed their seats, while she hastened to the side of
-her stepmother, hot and breathless. She had never before been subjected
-to such an ordeal. She had gladly agreed to accompany her stepmother to
-this house, for she hoped thereby to increase her observation of a class
-of people who repaid her study of them; but she had no notion that she
-should have to vacate her place as an Observer and take up that of a
-Participator. She was to pay dearly for her experience.
-
-She was burning, her stepmother could see; and she believed that this
-was due to her mortification on noticing that the dress of the ladies
-was infinitely more expensive than hers. That would be enough to make
-any young woman with ordinary susceptibilities indignant, she felt; and
-she herself, having had an opportunity of giving some attention to
-the expensive silks--she could appraise their value to a penny--was
-conscious of some chagrin on this account. She was almost out of
-patience with her old friend, Martha Barlowe, for making all this
-parade. The foolish woman had done so, she knew, in order to impress
-Miss Burney and to give her to understand that she was becoming
-associated with no ordinary family. But Mrs. Burney had seen enough
-since she had left Lynn for London to know that Fanny would not be the
-least impressed except in the direction of boredom by such an excess of
-ceremony in the house of a tradesman. She had heard Fanny's comment upon
-the gorgeous chariot which Sir Joshua Reynolds had set up, and she could
-not doubt what Fanny's opinion would be regarding this simple tea to
-which she had consented to go at the Barlowes' house.
-
-Fanny had hurried to her side as soon as she had passed the row of
-uncles and aunts. She thought that the girl seemed overcome by the
-tedium of the formalities; but in a few minutes she saw that Fanny was
-on the verge of laughter.
-
-Mrs. Burney could not say whether she would rather that her charge
-became moody or hilarious.
-
-“Eight separate curtsies,” murmured Fanny. “If there are to be the same
-number going away we should begin at once.”
-
-Mrs. Burney thought it better not to reprove her for her flippancy just
-at that moment. She condoned it with a smile.
-
-Only a minute were the Burneys left to themselves. Mr. Barlowe, the
-elder, walked solemnly up to them.
-
-“Going on nicely, eh?” he said in a confidential way to Mrs. Burney.
-“Everything being done decently and in order, madam. There has been no
-cause of offence up to the present, though there are three persons in
-that row who are as ready to see an offence where none is meant as a
-bunch of flax to break into flame when a spark falls on it. The young
-lady is discreet; if she had spoken to any one of them and not to the
-others, there would have been a flare-up. The touchy ones belong to my
-wife's family. She was a Kensit, you know.”
-
-He made this explanation behind his hand and in a whisper; he saw that
-his wife and son had been in earnest consultation together over some
-vexed question, and now they were hovering about, waiting to catch his
-eye.
-
-“I spoke too soon,” he said. “Something has gone astray, and the blame
-will fall on me.”
-
-They hovered still nearer, and when he caught his eye, Thomas, the
-younger, stepped up to his father, saying something in his ear. Mrs.
-Barlowe went on hovering a yard or two away.
-
-“That would never do,” said her husband, evidently in reply to some
-remonstrance offered by young Thomas. “Never. The whole of the Kensits
-would take offence.” Then he turned again to Mrs. Burney, saying:
-
-“Mrs. Burney, madam, my son has just reminded me that I have been remiss
-in doing my duty. It was left to me to present you to our relations at
-the head of the room, but I failed to do so, my mind being too full of
-the pretty curtsies of Miss. But I am ready to make amends now.”
-
-But Mrs. Burney had observed a little twinkle in Fanny's eye; she had
-no notion of going through the ordeal to which Fanny had been subjected,
-though the spectacle would doubtless have diverted Fanny hugely.
-
-“Nay, sir,” she said quickly to the waiting gentleman, “Nay, sir; you
-have forgotten that the presentation of a lady's daughter is equivalent
-to the presentation of the lady herself.”
-
-“What, is that so?” said he.
-
-“Rest assured that it is,” said she, “and an excellent rule it is. It
-saves a repetition of a formality that is now frequently omitted in the
-private houses of simple folk like ourselves. Lend me your arm, sir. I
-shall soon make myself at home with Martha's relations.”
-
-She did not give him a chance of discussing the point with her; she saw
-that he was about to state his objections to the rule she had invented
-for her own saving, and she was already in advance of him in approaching
-the row of figures on the chairs against the wall. Fanny heard her
-greeting them in turn without any formality, and once again Thomas, the
-younger, was by her side.
-
-His mother was still hovering, glancing suspiciously, first at the young
-couple, and then at the hasty proceedings of her friend, Mrs. Burney.
-
-“It was unlike father to make so grave an omission, Miss Burney,” he
-said, apologetically.
-
-“I hope that no harm will come of it,” said Fanny. “I am afraid that you
-found us very homely folk at our little house when you did us the honour
-of visiting us,” she added.
-
-He waved his hand indulgently, smiling over her head.
-
-“I am always ready to take my place in such a circle,” said he,
-“though all the time I have a pretty full knowledge of the exchange of
-courtesies which should mark the introduction of a stranger. Oh, yes, I
-do not mind meeting some people as an equal, if they do not presume upon
-me afterwards. Your brother has gone back to sea, I hear?” he added.
-
-“Yes, we shall not see him again for two years,” she replied. “Did he
-presume upon you, sir? If so, I will take it upon me to offer you a
-humble apology.”
-
-“I was considering if it might be possible that he was himself mistaken
-in regard to the ear-trumpet,” said Thomas.
-
-“Sir Joshua's ear-trumpet? What of that?”
-
-“Lieutenant Burney told me that it was a newly invented musical
-instrument, blown by the ear instead of the mouth. It was not until I
-had spoken of it to my father that I learned that the instrument was an
-ear-trumpet used by the deaf. I had never seen one before. I wonder if
-your brother intentionally deceived me.”
-
-“My brother is an officer in His Majesty's Fleet, sir.”
-
-“What does that mean, miss?”
-
-“It means that he would resent an accusation of falsehood, sir.”
-
-“Pray do not misunderstand me; I would shrink from accusing him of any
-conduct unworthy of an officer and a gentleman. But I was certainly
-deceived in fancying that the ear-trumpet was a musical instrument.”
-
-Fanny made no reply. Her attention was directed to the entrance of two
-servants, one bearing a large urn, the other a dish on which lay an
-immense ham.
-
-“I hope you have an appetite, Miss Burney,” said young Thomas. “If so,
-you will be able to stay it at that table, I'll warrant. Tea and cake
-may be well enough for such as dine at four, but for us, who are three
-hours earlier, something more substantial is needed. You will find that
-there is no stint in this house.”
-
-Fanny had an idea that the young man meant to suggest that she would
-find the tea-table at the Poultry to make a striking contrast to that of
-St. Martin's Street; and she was not mistaken.
-
-Neither was he. A greater contrast could scarcely be imagined. When
-Fanny was formally conducted to a seat at the table by the side of young
-Mr. Barlowe, she found herself confronting such a variety of eatables as
-was absolutely bewildering. The first glance that she had at the dishes
-had a stunning effect upon her. Her impression was one of repletion; she
-felt that that glance was by itself equivalent to a hearty meal--a heavy
-meal. She felt inclined to turn her head away.
-
-But a moment afterwards she became alert. Here was food--ample food for
-an amusing letter to Mr. Crisp, and, later, for a chapter in a possible
-novel. She would let nothing escape her notice.
-
-She settled down to observe everything; and her stepmother, sitting
-opposite to her, knew from the twinkle in her eyes, that Thomas's suit
-was hopeless. She had heard that music is the food of love. She was not
-sure of this; but she was convinced that butcher's meat was not. That
-was where she saw that Thomas had made his mistake. He had placed too
-much dependence upon that great ham. He carved that ham with all the
-solemnity that should accompany such a rite, not knowing that he was
-slicing away all his chances of commending himself to Fanny.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXIII
-
-|IT was an interesting experience for Miss Burney, the writer of novels
-and the writer of letters. She had never sat down with such a company.
-They all had their table peculiarities. One uncle took ale for his
-tea, and drained a tankard before eating anything. The other claimed a
-particular cup on account of its capacity, and he held it to his mouth
-with one hand, while he passed a second down the table to Miss Burney,
-only spilling a spoonful or two in effecting the transit. One of the
-aunts refused to eat anything except cake, explaining, in order to
-relieve the anxiety of the company, the details of an acute attack of
-spleen from which she had recently suffered. The spleen and its humours
-formed the subject of a fitful conversation at her end of the table.
-
-But it was plain that everyone understood that the company had not come
-to the table for conversation, but for food. They did not converse,
-but that was not the same as saying the room was silent. There was a
-constant clanging of cups, a constant clatter of platters, a loud and
-insistent demand on the part of Thomas, the elder, and Thomas, the
-younger, for their guests to say what they would like to eat. This was
-followed by the handing of plates up and down the table, the sound of
-steel knives being sharpened, and the jingle of spoons in saucers. The
-Alderman, who was, of course, an authority on the etiquette of banquets,
-was formulating an elaborate explanation of the mistake that had been
-made in the service of the cold sirloin in advance of the venison pasty;
-and all the time his neighbour was striking the haft of his knife upon
-the table with a request for someone to pass him the pickles.
-
-All the ceremonial veneer had plainly left the company the moment they
-seated themselves, and they addressed themselves to the business of
-feeding. They had healthy appetites--even the lady who had had a recent
-attack of the spleen. She would eat nothing but cake, but she did eat
-cake with confidence. There was no sort of cake that she did not try,
-and her cup was kept in constant circulation from the tea-maker to
-herself--four times she had it refilled, Fanny could not help noticing,
-and she wondered what effect such a diet would have upon her capricious
-spleen. Fanny had an inward hint or two that she had observed quite
-enough of the party to serve her purpose, and she began to count the
-moments until she might be able to steal away without offending the
-susceptibilities of her over-hospitable host and hostess. She hoped that
-her stepmother would listen to her plea of weariness and take her back
-to St. Martin's Street--to the music of St. Martin's Street--to the
-quiet of St. Martin's Street.
-
-The most solid hour of her life had, however, to elapse before her
-fellow-guests pushed their plates (empty) away from them, and Mrs.
-Barlowe said:
-
-“I am afraid you have made a poor tea, Miss Burney; but if you cannot be
-persuaded to have a slice of ham--my son's ham, I call it, for 'tis he
-who picks it out of the curer's stock whenever we have a party--if you
-still refuse it, we might go to the drawing-room.”
-
-Fanny was on her feet in an instant. But not sooner than Alderman
-Kensit. That gentleman, rapping with the haft of his knife on the table,
-stood with a sheaf of notes in his hand and clearing his throat with
-great deliberation, started upon a speech in eulogy of Mr. Barlowe's
-merits as a host and as a merchant, and droned away for a good
-half-hour in praise of the virtue of hospitality, his text being on
-the possibility of entertaining angels unawares. Of course, it was only
-natural that, having got upon this track and with the word “angels”
- in his mind, he should go on to say that it was quite possible for a
-hospitably-inclined person to entertain an angel and be fully cognizant
-of the fact, and so forth: in a speech of well-worn platitudes such a
-suggestion seemed inevitable; and all eyes were directed to poor
-Fanny when it seemed impending. It was a great disappointment to
-everybody--except Fanny and her stepmother--when the orator skipped the
-expected phrases, and went on to describe a business visit which he had
-once made to Spain, apropos of nothing in particular. His account of
-this feat was familiar to all his relations, but they listened to him
-without a murmur, only wondering when he would come to the angel and
-Miss Burney.
-
-He never came to the angel and Miss Burney, for it so happened that he
-had turned over two pages of his notes when he should have only turned
-over one. The omitted platitude was on the first, and he failed to
-notice the absence of a platitudinal sequence in the heads of his
-discourse which he had jotted down during the day.
-
-When he had seated himself, Mr. Barlowe, the elder, got upon his feet,
-but he had no notes, and not being a member of the Common Council, he
-was not a past-master of commonplaces. He was only dull for about five
-minutes instead of half an hour. He had risen with a view to repair his
-relative's omission of that obvious point about entertaining an angel by
-appointment in the shape of Miss Burney, but he lost himself before he
-managed to deliver it; it swam out of his ken with several other points
-the moment he got upon his legs.
-
-Fully recognizing how narrow was the escape she had had, Fanny was
-resolved not to run any further chances. She was looking imploringly
-toward Mrs. Burney, trying to catch that lady's eye, but without
-success, and she was about to walk round the table to her side and to
-beg her to come away, when Mrs. Barlowe moved up to her.
-
-“Miss Burney,” she said, “I am afraid you did not get anything you liked
-at the table: I saw that you scarce ate more than a morsel of cake.”
-
-“I assure you, madam, I had enough,” said Fanny. “Your cake was so tasty
-I had no mind to go away from it in search of other delicacies.”
-
-“I am glad you liked it. I made it with my own hands,” said the hostess.
-“That cake was ever a favourite with Mr. Barlowe and my son. It pleases
-me to know that you and my son have tastes in common. He is a good son,
-is Thomas, though I say it that shouldn't; and he is making his way to
-the front by treading in his father's footsteps. Mr. Barlowe is not a
-Common Councilman, but his father, Thomas's grandfather, was for a year
-Deputy-Master of the Wyre Drawers' Company--his certificate still hangs
-on the wall of the drawing-room. You must see it. Thomas, you will show
-Miss Burney your grandfather's certificate as Deputy-Master.”
-
-“I should like very much to see it,” said Fanny quickly, “but I fear
-that mamma will wish me to accompany her home at once. My sisters are
-alone to-night and they will feel lonely: we promised to return early.”
-
-“I will get Mrs. Burney's permission for you--so good an opportunity
-should not be thrown away,” said Mrs. Barlowe, giving the latter part of
-her sentence an unmistakable inflection as she looked toward her son and
-smiled.
-
-She had gone round the table before Fanny could think of another excuse
-for evading the visit to the drawing-room in the company of Mr. Barlowe,
-the younger.
-
-And Mr. Barlowe, the younger, was still by her side.
-
-“Doesn't Uncle Kensit make a fine speech?” he inquired. “He is always
-ready. I have heard it said that he speaks longer than any Alderman in
-the Council.”
-
-“I can quite believe it,” replied Fanny.
-
-“Tis a wonderful gift,” said he--“to be always ready to say what one is
-expected to say. Though I did think that when he referred to the angels
-he meant to--to--go farther--I mean nearer-nearer home.”
-
-Thomas might himself have gone farther had his mother not returned at
-that moment from her diplomatic errand.
-
-“I have prevailed upon Mrs. Burney to let you stay to see the
-certificate,” said she. “Thomas, you will conduct Miss Burney to the
-drawing-room.”
-
-“I am sure that mamma would wish to see the certificate also,” said
-Fanny. “I will ask her.”
-
-“There is no need, Miss Burney: we shall all join you later,” said Mrs.
-Barlowe.
-
-Poor Fanny saw that there was no use trying to evade the attentions of
-Thomas, and as she walked toward the folding doors by his side she was
-conscious of a silence in the room and of all eyes being turned upon
-her--smiles--such knowing smiles--and a smirk from the young lady. Fanny
-was aware of all, and what she was too short-sighted to see she was able
-to imagine. She was burning at the thought of all those people gazing at
-her in silence. It was the most trying moment of her life.
-
-She passed through the door which Thomas opened for her and closed
-behind her.
-
-“I am glad to have this opportunity, Miss Burney,” said he, when they
-were alone in the big half-lighted room.
-
-“You must hold your grandfather's certificate in high esteem, sir,” said
-she. “I suppose so high a place as he reached is but rarely attained
-by mortals. You will have to guide me to the document: I have very poor
-eyesight, as you must have noticed.”
-
-“It is a great drawback,” said he. “But we will not talk about
-grandfather's certificate just yet, if you please: I have something to
-say to you that will, I hope, interest you even more than that.”
-
-“You surprise me, sir,” said Fanny icily.
-
-“Nay, I hope that you know me well enough not to be surprised by all
-that I have to reveal to you now that the opportunity has been given to
-me. Have you no inkling of what I am about to say, Miss Burney?”
-
-“Not the least, sir. I expected only to see that relic of your
-grandfather's honourable career.”
-
-“What, after meeting Uncle Kensit and Aunt Jelicoe, you do not feel
-interested in their families?” said he, in a tone of genuine surprise.
-
-Fanny looked at him before she spoke, and there certainly was more than
-a note of casual interest in her voice as she said:
-
-“Their families? Oh, I should like above all things to hear about their
-families.”
-
-“I knew that you would,” said he, apparently much relieved. (She
-wondered if the relief that she felt was as apparent as his.) “Yes,
-I felt certain that you would welcome this opportunity of learning
-something about the Kensits and the Jelicoes. They are remarkable
-people, as you cannot have failed to perceive.”
-
-He made a pause---a pause that somehow had an interrogative tendency.
-She felt that he meant it to be filled up by her.
-
-“They are remarkable people--very remarkable,” said she.
-
-“We are very fortunate in all our relations, Miss Burney,” said he with
-great solemnity. “But, of course, Uncle Kensit stands high above them
-all in force of character. A great man indeed is Alderman Kensit--a
-member of the Haberdashers' and Grocers' Companies as well as the City
-Council, and yet quite ready to meet ordinary persons as fellow-men. He
-had heard the name of your friend, Sir Joshua Reynolds, though not the
-name of Dr. Burney, and he was kind enough to say that he would have no
-objection in the world to meet either of these gentlemen. That shows you
-what sort of man he is--his fine, simple nature. 'If Dr. Burney or Sir
-Joshua Reynolds were duly presented to me, I should feel it my duty to
-be civil to him '--those were his exact words.”
-
-Once more there was an interrogative pause.
-
-“Perhaps they may be fortunate enough to meet him some day,” was all
-Fanny could trust herself to say.
-
-“I would not say so much to them--he is very busy just now,” said Thomas
-hastily. “It would have to be arranged with care and thought--I would
-not like them to be disappointed. But if it would please you, I daresay
-a meeting could be brought about; meantime, I would not raise up any
-false hopes on the matter, if I were you.”
-
-“You may depend on my preserving the strictest secrecy, Mr. Barlowe,”
- said Fanny. “I should think that I might even discipline myself to
-forget that such a person as Alderman Kensit existed.”
-
-“That would perhaps be the safest course to pursue,” said he
-thoughtfully, and with an air of prudence that made him for the moment
-the subject of a description after Fanny's own heart. She felt that
-she could fool this young man as easily as her brother had fooled him.
-Surely he was made to be fooled, with his solemn airs and his incapacity
-to distinguish what is worthy from what is pompous.
-
-“Yes,” she continued, “Dr. Burney has had it intimated to him since the
-publication of his 'History' that the King was desirous of talking to
-him at Windsor, and I know that Sir Joshua is being visited daily by
-the Duchess of Devonshire and the Duchess of Ancaster, and it would be
-a great pity if my father were forced to write excusing himself to His
-Majesty on account of having to meet Alderman--Alderman--I protest that
-I have already forgotten the gentleman's name--nay, do not tell it to
-me; I might be tempted to boast of having met him, and if I did so in
-Sir Joshua's presence, his beautiful Duchesses would be forlorn when
-they found that he had hurried away on the chance of meeting the
-Alderman. And now, sir, I think that I shall return to Mrs. Burney.”
-
-“But I have not told you half of what I can tell about our family,” he
-cried. “I have said nothing about my aunts--I have four aunts and eleven
-cousins. You would surely like to hear of my cousins. They do not
-all live in London. I have three as far away as Lewes; their name is
-Johnson. My mother's youngest sister married a Johnson, as you may have
-heard. I believe that some objection was raised to the match at first,
-but it turned out quite satisfactory.”
-
-“It is pleasant to know that; and so, sir, as we have come to this
-point, don't you think that we had better adjourn our conference?” said
-Fanny. “It would be doing the Johnson family a grave injustice were you
-to attempt to describe their virtues within the time that is left to
-us, and that would be the greatest catastrophe of all. Besides, I came
-hither all unprepared for these revelations. If you had hinted at
-what was in store for me I would, of course, have disciplined
-myself--forewarned is forearmed, you know.”
-
-Miss Burney had received many a lesson from Mr. Garrick, from the days
-when he had come to entertain her in the nursery, in the art of fooling,
-and she was now quite capable of holding her own when she found herself
-in the presence of so foolable a person as this egregious young man. But
-the game was apt to become wearisome at the close of an evening when
-she had suffered much, and when the subject of her raillery had shown
-himself to be incapable even of suspecting her of practising on him.
-
-“But there is Aunt Jelicoe; I should like to tell you something of Aunt
-Jelicoe,” pleaded Thomas. “Without any of the advantages of her parents,
-Aunt Jelicoe--and--oh, I have something more to say to you--not about
-them--about ourselves--you and me--I was nearly forgetting--you will
-stay----”
-
-“One cannot remember everything, Mr. Barlowe,” said Fanny, with her
-hand on the knob of the door. “You have done very well, I think, in
-remembering so much as you have told me. As for ourselves--you have
-quite convinced me of my own insignificance--and yours also, sir. You
-would be doing us a grave injustice were you to speak of us so soon
-after your estimable relations.”
-
-“Perhaps you are right,” said he, after a few moments of frowning
-thought. “Yes. I see now that it might have been wiser if I had begun
-with ourselves and then----”
-
-Fanny had turned the handle. She re-entered the dining-room, and the
-moment that she appeared silence fell upon the company, and once again
-she was conscious of many eyes gazing at her and of horrid smiles and a
-smirk. That was another ordeal for the shy little Miss Burney--it was an
-evening of ordeals.
-
-She walked straight across the room to her stepmother.
-
-“I am ready to go away now,” she said. “We have never stayed at any
-house so long when we only came for tea. I am tired to death.”
-
-She took care, of course, that Mrs. Burney only should hear her; and
-Mrs. Burney, being well aware that Fanny was not one to complain unless
-with ample cause, charitably interposed between her and Mrs. Barlowe,
-whom she saw bearing down upon her from the other side of the room.
-
-“Fanny and I will say our good-night to you now, my dear Martha,” she
-said. “You have treated us far too kindly. That must be our excuse for
-staying so long. When people drop in to tea they do not, as a rule, stop
-longer than an hour, as you know. But you overwhelmed us.”
-
-“I was hoping--” began Mrs. Barlowe, trying to get on to Fanny, but by
-the adroitness of Mrs. Burney, not succeeding. “I was hoping--you know
-what I was hoping--we were all hoping--expecting--they were in the
-drawing-room long enough.”
-
-Mrs. Burney gave her a confidential look, which she seemed to interpret
-easily enough. She replied by a confidential nod--the nod of one who
-understands a signal.
-
-“Mum it shall be, then,” she whispered. “Not a word will come from me,
-simply good-night; but we could all have wished--never mind, Thomas will
-tell us all.”
-
-Mrs. Burney allowed her to pass on to Fanny, having obtained her promise
-not to bother the girl--that was how Mrs. Burney framed the promise in
-her own mind--and Mrs. Barlowe kept faith with her, and even persuaded
-Alderman Kensit, who was approaching them slowly with a sheaf of notes
-in his hand, to defer their delivery in the form of a speech until the
-young woman had gone.
-
-And thus the visitors from St. Martin's Street were able to escape going
-through the formality of taking leave of all the party. They shook hands
-only with their host and hostess and their son, curtseying very politely
-to the company of relations.
-
-“They are warm-hearted people, but their weakness for ceremony and the
-like is foolish enough,” said Mrs. Burney to Fanny, when they were safe
-within the hackney carriage.
-
-Fanny laughed.
-
-“Oh, indeed, there is no harm in any of them,” she said. “They may be
-a little foolish in thinking that the Poultry is St. James's Palace or
-Buckingham House. The only one among them who is an arrant fool is the
-son. You saw how his mother made it up that he should lead me into the
-other room?”
-
-“It was maladroitly done indeed. What had he to say to you when he got
-you there, I wonder?”
-
-“He had nothing to say to me except that his uncles were second in all
-the virtues and all the talents to no man in town, and that his aunts
-and cousins--but he did not get so far in his praise of his aunts and
-cousins; I fled. Oh, did you see him cut slices off the ham?”
-
-Fanny laughed quite pleasantly, with a consciousness of having at
-her command the material on which to found a scene that would set her
-sisters shrieking.
-
-“Oh, if Mr. Garrick had but seen him carve that ham!” she cried.
-
-“I wish that Mr. Garrick would give all his attention to his own affairs
-and leave us to manage ours in our own way,” said Mrs. Burney.
-
-“What? Why, what had Mr. Garrick to do with our visit to----”
-
-“'Twas Mr. Garrick who continued his fooling of Mr. Kendal, sending him
-all over the town trying to make matches. He believes that he is under
-a debt of gratitude to Mr. Garrick and your father for the happiness he
-enjoys with his bride.”
-
-“And he suggested that a match might be made between someone in St.
-Martins Street and someone in the Poultry? But how does Mr. Kendal come
-to be acquainted with the Barlowes?”
-
-“His wife was a Johnson before she married her first husband, and the
-Johnsons are closely connected with the Barlowes.”
-
-“Young Mr. Barlowe was just coming to the family history of the Johnsons
-when I interrupted him.”
-
-“Was he coming to any other matter that concerned you more closely,
-think you?”
-
-Fanny laughed again, only much longer this time than before. She had to
-wipe her eyes before she could answer.
-
-“Dear mamma,” she said, “you would laugh as heartily if you had seen him
-when he suddenly recollected that in his eagerness to make me acquainted
-with the glories of the Kensits and the abilities of the Johnsons, he
-had neglected the object of his excursion to that room with my poor
-self, until it was too late.”
-
-“I doubt it,” said Mrs. Burney. “I do not laugh at incidents of that
-sort. I lose patience when I hear of a young man neglecting his chances
-when they are offered to him. But had he ever a chance with you, Fanny?”
-
-“Not the remotest, dear mamma. If he had remembered to speak in time,
-and if he had spoken with all the eloquence of his admirable uncle, the
-Alderman, he would not have succeeded. If Thomas Barlowe were the last
-man in the world I should e'en die an old maid.”
-
-“That is a foolish thing for you to say. You may die an old maid for
-that. But indeed when I saw young Mr. Barlowe in his home, I perceived
-that he was not for you. I could not see you a member of that family,
-worthy though they may be.”
-
-“I think if a girl loves a young man with all her heart she will agree
-to marry him, however worthy may be his family,” said Fanny. “But I am
-not that girl, and young Mr. Barlowe is not that man.”
-
-“I daresay that is how you feel,” said the elder lady. “But you must not
-forget, Fanny, that you are no longer a girl; it is quite time that you
-had a house of your own.”
-
-“That is true, dear mamma, but for the present I am happy in living in
-your house, and I ask for nothing better than to be allowed to stay in
-your service.”
-
-“That is all very well, but----”
-
-“Ah, do not introduce that 'but'--life would be thoroughly happy if it
-were not for its 'buts.' Here we are in Leicester Fields. I feel as if
-I should like a roast apple for supper, to put a pleasant taste in my
-mouth at the close of the longest day I can remember.”
-
-They entered the parlour on the ground floor, and found Lottie and
-Susy roasting apples on the hearth, while Dr. Burney sat in his chair
-reading.
-
-“I did not expect you back so soon,” said Mrs. Burney to her husband.
-
-“I did not mean to return for another hour,” said he, “but Sir Joshua
-left early and brought me with him in his coach. He cut his evening
-short in order to get back to a book which he affirms is the best he has
-read since Fielding.”
-
-“It would have to be a good book to take the attention of Sir Joshua,”
- said Mrs. Burney. “Did you hear what was its name?”
-
-“It is called 'Evelina,' I believe,” replied Dr. Burney.
-
-“A novel, of course. I remember hearing the name some time ago,” said
-his wife. “'Evelina'; yes, it has a familiar sound. I cannot recollect
-at this moment who it was that mentioned it to me. I believe I told you
-of it at the time, Fanny.”
-
-“I do not remember your telling me that anyone had mentioned it to you;
-but I am nearly sure that that was the name of the novel advertised in
-the _Chronicle_--you read out all about it after breakfast one morning,”
- said Fanny.
-
-“You are quite right--that was how I got the name in my mind. Now you
-can have your roasted apple, child. But if you are hungry you have only
-yourself to thank for it. Don't bend so over the fire, Susy; your face
-is frightfully fed--so, for that matter, is Lottie's. No, thanks, you
-need not roast one for me.”
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXIV
-
-|SOME weeks had passed since Cousin Edward had brought his exhilarating
-news that the book was being asked for at the libraries, and during this
-interval, Fanny had heard nothing of its progress. She had applied in
-the name of Mr. Grafton for a copy to be addressed to the Orange Coffee
-House, but Mr. Lowndes had paid no attention to her request, Edward
-found out on going to the Coffee House, so it seemed plain to Fanny that
-the book was not making the stir in the world that her cousin's report
-from the libraries had attributed to it. But here was a distinct proof
-that it had at last reached their own circle, and somehow Fanny and her
-sisters felt that this meant fame. Somehow they had come to think of
-the readers of the book as being very remote from them--people whom they
-were never likely to meet; they had never thought of the possibility of
-its being named under their own roof by anyone not in the secret of its
-authorship. But now the strange thing had come to pass: it was not
-only named by their father, but named with the most extraordinary
-recommendation that it could receive!
-
-What! Sir Joshua was not only reading it, but he had curtailed his stay
-at the club in order to get home to continue it! Sir Joshua had actually
-been content to forsake the society of his brilliant friends, every one
-of them more or less notable in the world, in order that he might read
-the story which Fanny Burney had written all out of her own head!
-
-The idea was simply astounding to the girls and to Fanny herself as
-well. It meant fame, they were assured, and they were right. It took
-such a hold upon Susy and Lottie as prevented them from giving any
-attention to Fanny's amusing account of the evening at the Barlowes';
-and the fun she made--modelled on Mr. Garrick's best nursery style--of
-the Alderman and Mrs. Alderman, with the speeches of the one and the
-St. Giles's curtsies of the other, went for quite as little as did her
-imitation of the bobbing of the crown feathers of the aunts and the
-rustling of their dresses, the material of which was too expensive to
-be manageable: the thick silk was, Fanny said, like a valuable horse,
-impatient of control. She showed how it stood round them in massive
-folds when they curtsied, refusing to respond to the many kicks they
-dealt it to keep it in its place.
-
-From the recalcitrant silks--with illustrations--Fanny had gone to the
-slicing of the ham, the hacking at the great sirloin, the clatter of the
-teacups, and the never-ending passing of plates and pickles, of mustard
-and pepper and salt--the things were moving round the table as the
-planets were shown circling round the sun in the clever invention called
-the Orrery, after one of the titles of the Earl of Cork--only the noise
-made by the perpetual handing on of the things did not suggest the music
-of the spheres, Fanny said.
-
-Her descriptions, bright though they were and full of apt metaphors,
-went for nothing. Her sisters were too full of that wonderful thing
-which had happened--the great Sir Joshua Reynolds, President of the
-Royal Academy, the painter of all the most beautiful duchesses that
-were in the world, to say nothing of beautiful ladies of less exalted
-rank--this great man, who was so busy conferring immortality upon
-duchesses that he was compelled to keep in his painting-room on Sundays
-as well as every other day, and who had never been known to suspend
-his work except upon the occasion of the death of his dear friend Dr.
-Goldsmith--this man was actually at that very moment sitting in his
-arm-chair eagerly reading the words which their sister Fanny had
-written!
-
-The thought was too wonderful for them. The effect that it had on them
-was to make them feel that they had two sisters in Fanny, the one a
-pleasant, homely, hem-stitching girl, who could dance the Nancy Dawson
-jig for them and take off all the people whom she met and thought worth
-taking off; the other a grave authoress, capable of writing books that
-great men forsook the society of other great men to read!
-
-They looked on her now with something of awe in their eyes, and it was
-this lens of awe which, while magnifying her work as a writer where it
-came into their focus, made them fail to appreciate her fun, for they
-saw it, as it were, through the edges of the lens and not through the
-centre.
-
-She quickly perceived the lack of sympathy of her audience.
-
-“What is the matter with you both to-night?” she cried--they were now
-upstairs in her room, and she knew that at the same moment Mrs. Burney
-was giving her husband an account of the party. “What is the matter
-with you both? Has anything happened when I was away to put you out? Why
-don't you laugh as usual? I am sure I never told you anything half so
-funny as this, and I was thinking all the way coming home that it would
-make you roar, and now you sit gravely looking at me and not taking in
-half I say. Pray, what is the matter?”
-
-“Nothing is the matter, dear,” said Lottie. “Nothing--only I can't help
-thinking that Sir Joshua is at this moment sitting eagerly reading the
-book that you wrote--you, sister Fanny, that no one who comes to us
-notices particularly. I can hardly bring myself to believe that there is
-only one Fanny.”
-
-Fanny looked at her strangely for some moments, and then said:
-
-“I do not blame you, dear; for I am myself of the same way of thinking:
-I cannot realize what the padre told us. I cannot think of myself as the
-Fanny Burney whose book is keeping Sir Joshua out of his bed. That is
-why I kept on harping like a fool on the single string of that odious
-party. I feel that I must keep on talking, lest my poor brain should
-give way when I sit down to think if I am really Fanny Burney, who was
-ever happiest sitting unnoticed in a corner when people came to this
-house, or laughing with you all up here. I cannot think how it would
-be possible for me to write a book that could be read by such as Sir
-Joshua.”
-
-“Better think nothing more about it,” said Susy, who fancied she saw
-a strange look in Fanny's eyes. “What's the good of brooding over the
-matter? There's nothing strange about Sir Joshua's reading the book:
-I read it and I told you that it was so lovely everybody would want to
-read it. Besides, Sir Joshua may only have mentioned it for want of a
-better excuse to leave the club early; so you may not be so famous after
-all, Fanny.”
-
-Susy's well-meant attempt to restore her threatened equilibrium was
-too much for Fanny. But there was a considerable interval before her
-laughter came. She put an arm about Susy, saying:
-
-“You have spoken the truth, my dear sister. I have no right to give
-myself airs until we find out exactly how we stand. But if Fanny Burney,
-the dunce, should find out to-morrow that Sir Joshua has not really
-been kept out of his bed in order to read 'Evelina' by Fanny Burney, the
-writer, the first Fanny will feel dreadfully mortified.”
-
-“One thing I can promise you,” said Susy, “and this is that Susannah
-Burney will not be kept out of her bed any longer talking to Fanny
-Burney about Fanny Burney's novel, whether Fanny Burney be mortified
-or not. We shall know all about the matter when we go to the Reynolds's
-to-morrow. In the meantime, I hope to have some hours of sleep, though
-I daresay that Fanny Burney will lie awake as a proper authoress should
-do, thinking over the exciting party in the Poultry and wondering how
-she will work in a description of it in her next novel. Good-night, and
-pleasant dreams! Come along, Lottie.”
-
-And Fanny Burney did just what her sister had predicted she would do.
-She recalled some of the incidents of the tea-party in the Poultry,
-having before her, not as she had in the hackney coach, the possibility
-of describing them in a letter to Mr. Crisp, but of introducing them
-into a new book.
-
-Before she slept she had made up her mind to begin a new book; for she
-now found it comparatively easy to believe that Sir Joshua was reading
-“Evelina” with great interest. At any rate, she would hear the next day
-when she should go to the Reynolds's, whether Sir Joshua had read it,
-or whether he had only made it an excuse for getting home early in the
-night, so that he might arise early and refreshed to resume his painting
-of the duchesses.
-
-But the next evening, when, with her sisters and their stepmother she
-tripped along the hundred yards or so of Leicester Fields that lay
-between their house and that of Sir Joshua Reynolds, all thoughts of
-the book which she had written and of the book which she meant to write,
-vanished the moment that she was close enough to Sir Joshua's to hear,
-with any measure of clearness, the nature of the singing, the sound of
-which fell gently upon her ears.
-
-“H'sh!” said Mrs. Burney, stopping a few feet from the door. “H'sh! some
-one is singing. I did not know that it was to be a musical party.”
-
-“It is Signor Rauzzini,” said Lottie. “I would know his voice anywhere.
-We are lucky. There is no one who can sing like Signor Rauzzini.”
-
-“We should have come earlier,” said Mrs. Burney. “But when Miss Reynolds
-asked us she did not say a word about Rauzzini. And now we cannot ring
-the bell, lest we should interrupt his song.”
-
-She stood there with the three girls, under the lighted windows of the
-house, listening to the silvery notes of the young Roman that floated
-over their heads, as if an angel were hovering there, filling their
-ears with celestial music. (The simile was Susy's.) The music sounded
-celestial to the ears of at least another of the group besides Susy; and
-that one thought:
-
-“How can anyone trouble oneself with such insignificant matters as the
-writing of books or the reading of books, when such a voice as that is
-within hearing?”
-
-And then, all at once, she was conscious of the merging of the two
-Fanny Burneys into one, and of the existence of a new Fanny Burney
-altogether--the Fanny Burney who was beloved by the celestial singer,
-and this was certainly the most wonderful of the three.
-
-The thought thrilled her, and she knew that with it the truth of life
-had come to her: there was nothing worth anything in the world save only
-loving and being loved.
-
-And this truth remained with her when the song had come to an end,
-soaring to a high note and dwelling on it for an enraptured space and
-then dying away, so gradually that a listener scarcely knew when it had
-ceased.
-
-Fanny's imagination enabled her to hear, at the close, the drawing-in of
-the breath of the people in the room where the song had been sung: she
-knew that up to this point they had been listening breathlessly to
-every note. She could hear the same soft inspiration--it sounded like
-a sigh--by her sisters and their stepmother. A dozen wayfarers through
-Leicester Fields had been attracted to-the house by the sound of the
-singing, and now stood timidly about the doorway. They also had been
-breathless. One woman murmured “Beautiful!” Fanny could understand
-how the word had sprung to her lips, but what could the man mean, who,
-almost at the same moment, said:
-
-“Oh, my God! how could I have been so great a fool?”
-
-She was startled, and glanced at him. He was a young man, shabbily
-dressed, and on his face there were signs of dissipation. He was
-unconscious of her glance for some moments, then with a slight start he
-seemed to recover himself. He took off his hat with a respectful bow,
-and then hurried away. But Fanny saw him turn when he had gone about a
-dozen yards into the roadway, and take off his hat once more, with his
-eyes looking up to the lighted windows of the house. He was saluting the
-singer whom he had not seen, and to Fanny the act, following the words
-which he had unwittingly uttered, was infinitely pathetic.
-
-It appeared that Mrs. Burney herself received the same impression. Fanny
-was surprised to hear her say:
-
-“Poor fellow! he was once a gentleman!”
-
-Then they entered Sir Joshua's house and were shown upstairs to the
-great painting-room, where Sir Joshua and his sister Frances were
-receiving their guests.
-
-It was quite a small party--not more than a score of people altogether,
-and all seemed to be acquainted with one another. Fanny knew several of
-them; one girl, however, she had never seen before, but she knew who
-she was in a moment. She was standing at one end of the room chatting to
-Mrs. Sheridan, and on the wall just above her there hung the picture of
-a girl in oriental costume and wearing a turban. Fanny Burney had often
-looked at it in admiration, and Sir Joshua had encouraged her, affirming
-that it was the best picture he had ever painted and that it would
-remain in his painting-room until the day of his death. She looked at
-it now with renewed interest, for the original was the girl standing
-beneath it--the beautiful Miss Homeck whom Oliver Goldsmith had called
-the Jessamy Bride. Several years had passed since Sir Joshua had painted
-that portrait, from which Miss Burney had recognized the original; and
-fifty years later another lady recognized the same face, still beautiful
-in old age, from having seen merely a print of the same picture.
-
-When Fanny turned her eyes from the portrait it was to admire the
-features of Mrs. Sheridan. Mrs. Sheridan was gazing somewhat pensively
-at the picture of St. Cecilia which was hanging a little way from that
-of Miss Horneck, and Fanny was near enough to her to perceive how her
-expression grew into that of the face in the picture. At first sight, it
-did not appear to Fanny that the two faces were the same, and it seemed
-as if Mrs. Sheridan perceived this, and determined to vindicate Sir
-Joshua's skill by assuming the pose of the picture. But Miss Burney knew
-that the beautiful lady had done it unconsciously--that it was simply
-because she was recalling the days when she had sat for the painter, and
-had obeyed his injunction to lose herself among the simple chords of the
-aria that was sacred to her since her sister died with the strain upon
-her lips--“I know that my Redeemer liveth.”
-
-Fanny gazed at the exquisite face, illuminated with what seemed to her
-to be a divine light, and for the first time she knew something of what
-it was to be a great painter. After “St. Cecilia” the other portraits on
-the walls seemed paltry. There was no divine light in the faces of the
-duchesses. There was life in them; they breathed and smiled and posed
-and looked gracious, but looking at them one remained on earth and among
-mortals. But St. Cecilia carried one into the glorious company of the
-immortals. “She drew an angel down,” was the line that flashed through
-Miss Burney's mind at that moment. An angel? A whole celestial company.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXV
-
-|YOU are looking at her--I, too, have been looking at her; she is
-divine,” came a voice beside her. She did not need to turn to see the
-speaker. She had been longing for the sound of his voice for many days.
-She had not even a chance of hearing him sing before this evening.
-
-“She is St. Cecilia herself,” said she. “You have seen Sir Joshua's
-picture?”
-
-“My countryman, Piozzi, pointed it out to me,” he replied. “I was
-enraptured with the picture. But when the living St. Cecilia entered the
-room and I heard her story, I felt ready to throw myself at her feet and
-implore her as the guardian of poor singers to take me to her care. Her
-face has on it the bloom of a flower dropped fresh from the garden of
-God--angelic beyond the voice of man to describe.”
-
-He spoke, as usual, in French to Fanny, but he had greeted Mrs. Burney
-in English, and he tried to translate his last phrase to her into the
-same language. He failed after the first word or two, and begged Miss
-Burney to complete his task for him. She did so, and her stepmother
-smiled and nodded in appreciation of his comment.
-
-“She is indeed a beautiful creature,” said Mrs. Burney. “I heard her
-sing more than once at Bath. People went mad about her beauty and her
-singing, and truly I never heard any singing that so affected me. It was
-said that she hated to let her voice be heard in public. Her father,
-Mr. Linley, made her sing: she was a gold mine to Mr. Linley and he knew
-it.”
-
-Signor Rauzzini had listened attentively and picked up all that she had
-said without the aid of a word from Fanny.
-
-“But now she will never be heard again no more,” said he in English.
-“And she is right in making such a resolution, and her husband is a
-noble man to agree with her in this,” he continued, but in French to
-Fanny. “Picture that lovely creature placing herself on the level of
-such a one as the Agujari! sordid--vulgar--worldly! quarrelling daily
-with the _impresario_ on some miserable question of precedence---holding
-out for the largest salary--turning a gift which should be divine into
-gold! Oh; she was right.”
-
-“Signor Rauzzini no doubt thinks it a pity that such a voice should
-cease to give pleasure to the thousands it enchanted,” said Mrs. Burney,
-not being able to follow him in French.
-
-“Oh, no, no; just the opposite,” cried Fanny. “He says he admires her
-the more for her resolution.”
-
-“I am so glad. Pray tell him that I agree with him,” said Mrs. Burney.
-“A good woman will avoid publicity. Her home should be sufficient for
-her.”
-
-Fanny did not need to translate the words, he grasped their meaning at
-once.
-
-“I agree with all of my heart, madame,” he cried. “I would not wish my
-mother or my sister to have their names spoken with freedom by
-everyone who paid a coin to hear them sing. I should think it--_come
-si chiamo?_--Ah! forgive my poor English.” He went off into French once
-more--“Pray tell madame that I think it would be odious to hear the name
-of my mother or my sister tossed from man to man as they toss the name
-of a woman who comes before the public. I think the woman who would hide
-herself from all eyes as a violet hides itself under a leaf is the true
-woman. The shy, timid, retiring one--I know her--I esteem her. I could
-love no other. I have a deep respect for the woman of the Orient who
-would die sooner than let her face be seen by a man.”
-
-“What does he say--I like his eagerness?” asked Mrs. Burney.
-
-Fanny translated some of his phrases, and Mrs. Burney nodded and smiled
-her approval.
-
-“The bloom on the wing of a butterfly is a very tender thing,” resumed
-the Roman; “the breath of a man is sufficient to remove it--a single
-breath--and when the bloom has gone the charm of the beautiful creature
-has gone also.”
-
-“I am not sure that I like the comparison to the butterfly,” said Fanny,
-smiling. “The butterfly is the emblem of all that is fickle--all that
-is idle except for its yielding to its fickleness. It is beautiful, but
-nothing else.”
-
-He laughed.
-
-“I am rebuked,” he said. “But with us the butterfly is the symbol of the
-life--of the soul. Assume that and you will, I think, see that I meant
-not to hint at the beauty of the frivolity, but at the beauty of the
-soul. I feel that a woman's life has on it the bloom of a butterfly's
-wing, and if that is once breathed on, its beauty is gone for ever--the
-woman's life is never again what it was--what it was meant to be. But
-if you wish, I will not go beyond the violet as my emblem of the best
-woman--my woman.”
-
-“I thank heaven that I have no voice,” said Fanny gently, after a
-pause. Young Mr. North-cote, Sir Joshua's pupil, had approached Mrs.
-Burney--his eye was on Susy--in order to tell her that tea was being
-served in the drawing-room.
-
-Mrs. Burney thanked him and took the arm that he offered.
-
-“We shall all go in together,” said Mrs. Burney, with a sign to Fanny.
-
-But Rauzzini contrived to evade her eye by renewing his admiration of
-the “St. Cecilia.”
-
-“If I could but reproduce in song the effect that flows from her face I
-should be the greatest singer in the world,” said he.
-
-“You need not envy her,” said Fanny. “Do you remember Mr. Handel's
-setting of 'Alexander's Feast '?”
-
-“Only an aria or two.”
-
-“One of the lines came into my mind just now when I looked at that
-picture. 'She drew an angel down.'”
-
-“And it was very apt. She would draw an angel down.”
-
-“Yes; but the poet has another line before that one--it refers to a
-singer--'He raised a mortal to the skies.' That was the line which came
-to my mind when I heard you sing. You raise mortals to the skies. Your
-power is equal to that of St. Cecilia.”
-
-“Nay, nay; that is what you have done. I have been uplifted to the
-highest heaven by you. When you are near me I cannot see anything of the
-world. Why have we not met more frequently? Ah, I forget--I am always
-forgetting that the months you spoke of have not yet run out. But I am
-not impatient, knowing that the prize will come to me in good time.
-I have been away at the Bath and Salisbury and Bristol and I know not
-where, singing, singing, singing, and now I go to Paris and Lyon for a
-few months, but you may be certain that I shall return to England--then
-the separating months shall have passed and you will welcome me--is not
-that so?”
-
-“I think I can promise you--every day seems to make it more certain that
-I shall welcome you.”
-
-“My angel--my dream!----”
-
-He said the words--both long-drawn monosyllables in French--in a whisper
-that gave them the full force of passionate expression. He had need to
-whisper, for several people were in the room, and Mr. Boswell was among
-the number, and everyone knew that Mr. Boswell, as a gossip-monger, had
-no equal in town. He was always pimping and prying--nosing out germs
-of scandal--ever ready to make mischief by telling people all the
-nasty things other people had said of them. Mr. Boswell had his eye on
-them--and his ear. In addition, Mrs. Thrale, who had arrived late, had
-no idea of allowing the handsome Roman singer to waste himself with a
-nonentity like Miss Burney, and she was now perilously close to him whom
-she came to rescue.
-
-But the whisper and the expression imparted to it were enough for Fanny
-Burney. He might have talked for hours in his impassioned way without
-achieving the effect of his whispered exclamations.
-
-Then Mrs. Thrale hastened up to his side full of her resolution to
-rescue him from the conversation with the insignificant person whom his
-good nature suffered to engage his attention.
-
-“Why, what is this?” cried the little lady who regarded herself with
-complacency as the soul of tact. “Have you explained to Signor Rauzzini
-that you are the unmusical member of the family, Miss Burney?”
-
-“I believe that he is aware of that fact already, madam,” replied Fanny.
-
-“And yet he is in close converse with you? He is the most good-natured
-man in town,” said Mrs. Thrale. “Does he hope to interest you when your
-father failed?”
-
-“He has never ceased, to interest me, madam,” said Fanny.
-
-“Then he did not talk about music?”
-
-“Oh, yes; I think he said something about music.”
-
-“Yes, touching a note here and there, as one might in passing a
-harpsichord. Of course you could not have lived in Dr. Burney's house
-without being able to understand something of music. But we must not
-trespass upon Signor Rauzzin's courtesy, Miss Burney. Everyone is
-talking of him in the drawing-room--he must gratify the company by
-mingling with them.”
-
-Then she addressed Rauzzini in French.
-
-“I promised to go in search of you, signor,” she said. “Madame Reynolds
-is distracted. I came on my mission famished--I had vowed, as the
-crusaders did, not to taste food or drink until I had succeeded in
-my emprise. May I ask you to have pity on me now and lead me to the
-tea-table?”
-
-He turned to ask Fanny to accompany them, but he found that she had
-slipped quietly away. She was already at the door.
-
-“My duty was to Miss Burney, madame, but she has been frightened away,”
- said he.
-
-“Oh, she is the shy one of the family, I believe,” said Mrs. Thrale. “I
-am sure that all the time you were so good-natured as to talk to her
-she was wishing that the floor would open and allow her to sink out of
-sight. She would have thought it much more good-natured on your part
-if you had taken no notice of her. I have scarcely spoken to her half a
-dozen times myself, though I have frequently been to her father's house.
-I cannot rack my brain to discover a congenial topic with such young
-people. Were you successful, do you think?”
-
-He made a gesture with his hands that might mean anything. Mrs. Thrale
-assumed that it meant nothing--that he felt he was not greatly concerned
-whether he had been successful in finding a congenial topic of converse
-with Miss Burney or not.
-
-She laughed.
-
-“Poor girl!” she said. “She may have her dreams like other girls.”
-
-“I believe she has--poor girl!” said he. “But I know that in her
-knowledge of music she goes deeper--soars higher than most young ladies
-who have submitted to lessons from a _maestro_--nay, higher than the
-_maestro_ himself.”
-
-Mrs. Thrale looked doubtfully at him.
-
-“Is it possible that we are talking of two different people?” said she.
-
-“Ah, that is quite possible,” said he.
-
-“I was referring to Miss Burney, the one of the family who does nothing
-except sew--her mother commends her sewing very highly. I fear that you
-actually believed that you were in converse with one of her sisters.”
-
-“Madame,” said he, “it is my belief that the one who sews in a family is
-far more interesting than the one who sings. But Miss Burney need not,
-in my eyes, be any more than Miss Burney to be interesting, though she
-has taught me more of music than I ever learned before.”
-
-“Is't possible? Oh, yes: I should remember that her father told me that
-she was his amanuensis--she made a neat copy of all his notes for the
-'History of Music.' It is no wonder that she knows something about
-it. Such a good daughter! And the father took no trouble about her
-education. She did not know her letters till she was eight or nine, I
-believe--perhaps twelve. I don't believe that I ever exchanged half a
-dozen words with her before this evening; and as for men--you are the
-first man I ever saw taking any notice of her.”
-
-His face lit up strangely, Mrs. Thrale thought, at this revelation. He
-gave a laugh.
-
-“So much the better for her--so much the worse for the men,” said he.
-“And now, madame, if the tea has not become too strong, and if your
-hunger has not made you too weak to walk to the table, I should esteem
-it an honour to conduct you thither.”
-
-Mrs. Thrale smiled her acquiescence, and she entered the drawing-room on
-the arm of the singer. Nothing could have convinced her that he did not
-feel grateful to her for rescuing him from the position in which his
-good nature had placed him--by the side of the most insignificant young
-woman among all Sir Joshua's guests.
-
-She believed that she was increasing his debt of gratitude to her by
-keeping him with her for the next half-hour. Her sense of protecting him
-gave her naturally a sense of patronage, which was quite pleasant for
-her to experience, especially when she glanced round the room and saw
-several ladies of higher rank than she could pretend to, frowning in her
-direction. She knew how Signor Rauzzini was pestered by the attentions
-of such as these, and she could almost hear the well-bred sneers of
-her friends as they glanced at her and wondered if she never meant to
-release the unfortunate young man--she knew just what they would say,
-and she accepted their imaginary words as a real compliment to
-her protective powers. Her smile down the table was one of great
-complacency.
-
-She also noticed that the insignificant Miss Burney was glowing as she
-had never seen her glow before. Her face was rosy and her eyes were
-actually sparkling. Mrs. Thrale had never imagined that such eyes as
-Miss Burney's could sparkle, no matter what their provocation might be.
-
-“Poor girl! Poor child! Her head is turned, as I feared it would be
-when I saw the Rauzzini with her. She is the unhappy victim of his good
-nature.”
-
-This was the conclusion come to by the little lady whose ability to
-pronounce an opinion on such a matter was widely acknowledged; and
-coming to such a conclusion, she naturally commended all the more
-heartily the step which she had taken for separating the foolish girl
-and the fascinating young man.
-
-She would have waved aside any suggestion that might be made to her to
-the effect that the increase in Miss Burney's colouring and the light in
-her eyes was due to Miss Burney's overhearing the conversation between
-her mother and Sir Joshua respecting a book which he had stayed up all
-night to read and which he had just finished in time to receive his
-guests.
-
-The name of the book was “Evelina; or, a Young Lady's Entrance into the
-World,” he said, and he was urging Mrs. Burney to follow his example and
-read it without further delay.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXVI
-
-|FANNY was at her stepmother's elbow while Sir Joshua gave her a full
-account of how he had been induced to send to Lowndes for this wonderful
-book on the recommendation of Mrs. Darner, whose portrait he was
-painting. Mrs. Darner had excused her unpunctuality at one of her
-sittings on the ground that she had become so interested in the fortunes
-of “Evelina” that she could not put the book down.
-
-“Get it for yourself, sir,” she had said, “and you will quickly
-acknowledge that my excuse is valid.”
-
-“Of course I did not get it then,” said Sir Joshua. “I find it
-impossible to keep pace with the useful books that are printed in these
-days, and I have long ago given up novels. But when, the next day, Mrs.
-Darner came to sit to me with a woebegone countenance and the traces of
-tears on her cheeks, so that I could only paint her draping, and that,
-too, had a woeful droop in its folds--for let me tell you, madam, that a
-woman's dress is usually in sympathy with the mood of the wearer--when,
-I say, the lady entered my painting-room in this guise, I ventured to
-inquire if she was serious in her wish that I should depict her in the
-character of Niobe. 'Oh, sir,' she cried, ''tis all due to that horrid
-Branghton--he it is that has brought me to this.' 'The wretch!' said I.
-'Have you no friend who will run him through the vitals? Where is he
-to be found, that I may arrange for his destruction?' 'He is the
-persecutor of my beloved Evelina,' she replied, 'and heaven only knows
-what is to become of the poor girl.'
-
-“Now, madam, when I had thus brought before me the effect that the book
-had produced upon so natural a lady as Mrs. Darner, what was left for
-me but to buy it? And now you see the effect that it has had upon me,”
- continued Sir Joshua, “so you must e'en buy it also.”
-
-“Nay, Sir Joshua,” said Mrs. Burney, “your case has furnished me with
-the strongest of reasons for not buying it. I would not allow a book
-into my house that would so turn me aside from my ordinary life and my
-daily business. What, sir, would you have me stay out of my comfortable
-bed for hours, in order that I might make myself more uncomfortable
-still by reading of the imaginary woes of a young woman who is nothing
-to me but a shadow?”
-
-“Oh, I promise you that you will find Evelina far from being a shadow,”
- said Sir Joshua. “She is a creature of flesh and blood, with a heart
-that beats so that you find your own heart keeping time with it, whether
-it pulsates slowly or fast. In short, Evelina lives. I have no patience
-with those attenuated figures that dance on the stage of so many of our
-new novel writers; I can see the stuffing of straw when their constant
-gyrating has worked a rip in their seamy side; creatures of rag and
-wire--they never deceive one for a moment--why, their very gyrations are
-not true to life. But Evelina lives. Some of the characters in the book
-are distasteful--some of them are vulgar, but the world is made up of
-distasteful and vulgar people, and a novel should be true to the world
-in which the characters are placed. Oh, that was where the greatness
-of poor Dr. Goldsmith was to be found. He would abate nothing of the
-vulgarity of the vulgar characters in his plays, because he meant them
-to live. The people hissed his vulgar bailiffs in his _Good-Natured
-Man_, and when Colman cut them out he himself restored them when Shuter
-played the piece for his benefit the following year, and everyone saw
-that they were true to life. The vulgarity of Tony Lumpkin and the Three
-Pigeons made Walpole shudder, but there they remain in the best comedy
-of our time, and there they will remain for ever. Oh, yes; the author of
-'Evelina' knows what life is, and so his book will live.”
-
-“And who is the author of this surprising book?” asked Mrs. Burney.
-
-“That is a mystery,” replied Reynolds. “I sent to Lowndes, the
-bookseller, to inquire, and he pretended that he did not know. He could
-only say that he was a gentleman of note living in Westminster.”
-
-“Ah, that is one of the booksellers' tricks to make their wares seem
-more attractive,” said she. “They know that a man in a mask awakens
-curiosity.”
-
-“That is so; but 'Evelina' stands in need of no advertisement of such a
-nature. It would attract attention even though the name of Mr. Kenrick
-were attached to it. But everyone is dying to find out the name of the
-author; Mrs. Darner believes it to have been written by Horace Walpole,
-but only because 'The Castle of Otranto' was published without his name
-being on the title page.”
-
-“Not a very cogent line of argument, it seems to me,” said Mrs. Burney.
-“Well, Sir Joshua, I hope you will enjoy a comfortable sleep to-night,
-now that you have the fortunes of that young lady off your mind.”
-
-“Oh, my dear madam, I do assure you that my mind is not yet free from
-the effects of reading that book,” cried Reynolds. “I am more faithful
-to my friends in some books than to forget all about them when I lay
-them on the shelf. If they live, be assured that I live with them, and
-the thought of them is to me at times as pleasant as the thought of the
-best friends I have met in my daily life. I have laid 'Evelina' on a
-shelf in my memory--not one of the back shelves, but one that is near
-to me, so that I can console myself with her companionship when I am
-lonely.”
-
-“I have never heard you praise a book so heartily, sir,” said Mrs.
-Burney. “But I will beg of you not to mention it to any of my family,
-for if it has so unhinged you, what would it not do to those poor
-girls?”
-
-He did not catch all she had said, for she spoke in a voice which she
-did not mean to travel to Fanny or Susy, who were chatting to Miss
-Theophila Palmer, Sir Joshua's niece.
-
-“You may depend on my telling them all I find out in regard to the
-author,” said he in a tone of assent.
-
-“No, no,” she cried, getting nearer to the bell of his trumpet. “No, no;
-I want you to refrain from mentioning the book to them. I discourage all
-novel reading, excepting, of course, the works of Mr. Richardson, and
-perhaps one or two of Fielding, with some of the pages gummed together
-to prevent them from being read.”
-
-“Nay, to tempt people to read them,” said Reynolds. “What were we saying
-about the attractions of a mask? Well, my word for it, the attractions
-of a book without a name are as nothing compared with the attraction
-of gummed pages. But you will let them read 'Evelina,' and you will,
-moreover, read it yourself--yes, and you will all be the better and not
-the worse for doing so.”
-
-Mrs. Burney shook her head.
-
-It was no wonder that Mrs. Thrale thought that Miss Burney looked
-flushed at this time, or that there was an unwonted sparkle in her eyes;
-for she had heard nearly every word that Sir Joshua had said, and she
-could scarcely contain herself for delight. For all her primness, she
-was at heart a merry schoolgirl, ready to break into a dance at good
-news, and to shout for joy when things had advanced as she had hoped
-they would. She felt that it was very hard on her that she could not
-throw her hat up to the ceiling of the room, as she had heard of Dr.
-Goldsmith's doing with his wig in the exuberance of his spirits in this
-same room--when Miss Reynolds was in her bed upstairs. It was very hard
-on her to be compelled to restrain her feelings; she was unconscious of
-the sparkle in her eyes, or of the pæony flush of her cheeks that Mrs.
-Thrale had noticed and was still noticing.
-
-She had never felt so happy in all her life. A short time before she had
-felt that everything in the world was insignificant in comparison
-with love; but now she realized that there was another joy worthy of
-recognition. She was not wise enough to perceive that the two emotions
-sprang from the same source--that the foundation of love is the impulse
-to create, and that the foundation of an artist's joy in fame is the
-knowledge that what he has created is recognized by the world. She was
-(fortunately) not wise enough to be able to analyse her feelings--to be
-wise enough to analyse one's feelings is to be incapable of feeling. All
-that she was conscious of at that moment was that all worth having in
-the world was hers--the instinct to create, which men call Love, the joy
-of obtaining recognition for the thing created, which men call Fame.
-
-It was no wonder that Mrs. Thrale saw that light in her face and in her
-eyes; nor was it strange that the same observant lady should attribute
-that illumination to the touch of the fire of the sacred torch. She
-looked at the handsome face of the Roman youth, with its expression of
-frankness, and at his eyes, full of the generous warmth of the South,
-and once more she glanced at Miss Burney, and saw in her face the
-reflection of the southern sunny glow.
-
-“Poor girl--poor girl!” were the words that sprung to her lips. “Only a
-moment's attention from him--only a word--nay, a glance from those
-eyes would have been enough--and she is at his feet. Poor girl!
-Knowing nothing of the world--incapable of understanding anything of
-life--having no gift to attract attention---”
-
-“Dear Mrs. Thrale, I have come to you for help. You are sure to have
-read this book that everyone is talking about--this 'Evelina'--and you
-can, I am certain, tell us who is the author. Pray let us know if your
-friend Dr. Johnson had a finger in it--I have heard that some of the
-writing is in the style of Dr. Johnson--or was it Mr. Anstey--they say
-that some chapters could only have come from the author of 'The Bath
-Guide.'”
-
-It was Lady Hales who had hurried up with her inquiries. She seemed
-to be the representative of a group with whom she had been standing,
-several ladies and two or three men.
-
-It so happened, however, that Mrs. Thrale had not yet read the book
-around which discussion had been buzzing; but she had no intention of
-acknowledging that, with her literary tastes and with her friendship for
-Dr. Johnson, she was behind the times. Two or three people had within
-the week made remarks about “Evelina” in her presence, but she had no
-idea that it was to become a topic of society.
-
-She smiled enigmatically, to give herself time to make up her mind what
-her reply should be--whatever it might be, it certainly would not be a
-confession of ignorance. She came to the conclusion that on the whole
-she could not do better than mould her answer so as to heighten the
-mystery of the authorship.
-
-“Is it possible that none of our friends have discovered the author?”
- she asked, still smiling shrewdly, so as to suggest that she herself had
-long ago been let into the secret.
-
-“We have had many conjectures,” said Lady Hales. “And let me whisper in
-your ear--there is one among us who is ready to affirm that the address
-of the author is Thrale Hall, Streatham.”
-
-“I vow that I am overwhelmed,” cried the little lady. “The compliment is
-one that any writer might envy. Pray how could it enter the mind of any
-of our friends to connect me with the authorship of such a book?”
-
-“There are some touches of your style in many of the letters of
-Evelina,” replied Lady Hales. “And some have said that only you could
-have had the varied experiences described so vividly.”
-
-“A marvellous book, truly, this 'Evelina,'” cried Mrs. Thrale. “Some
-people, you say, recognize the hand of Dr. Johnson in its pages, others
-the pen that wrote 'The Bath Guide,' and now it is suggested that the
-whole was the work of a humble scribbler named Mrs. Thrale--a person who
-has surely little in common with the two writers you have named.”
-
-She took care that her affectation of surprise had an artificial note
-about it. There was no knowing how things might turn out. Mrs. Thrale
-had no objection in the world to have her name associated with the
-authorship of a book about which it was clear a good many people would
-be talking for some months to come.
-
-“May I not be entrusted with something more definite?” asked Lady Hales
-in a low voice. “If it is a secret for the present--well, you know that
-I am one to be trusted.”
-
-“I can assure you definitely that the book was not written by Dr.
-Johnson,” replied Mrs. Thrale, with a smile. “He has not for a single
-week during the past year failed to visit us at Streatham for at least
-four days at a time. He reads to me all that he writes--it is not
-much--and I can give you an assurance that the name of Evelina has not
-once appeared in his manuscript. I may also say that if you take my
-advice you will not be in too great haste to attribute the book to Mr.
-Anstey.”
-
-This was not mystification, it sounded much more like revelation, Lady
-Hales thought.
-
-“I dare not press you further, madam,” she said.
-
-“Believe me, I can appreciate your reticence, if----”
-
-“Nay, now you suggest that I have told you a secret that I have
-concealed from everyone else, and that is going too far,” cried Mrs.
-Thrale. “Now, dear madam, cannot you see that even if I were in the
-secret of the authorship, I should be guilty of a great breach of
-courtesy were I to reveal it to anyone? If an author choose to remain
-anonymous, is it not discourteous to try to snatch away his--or
-her--veil of anonymity?”
-
-“I can but assent,” said Lady Hales. “I do not doubt that this view of
-the matter is the correct one. At any rate, you may depend on my acting
-in accordance with it. I shall make no further attempt to pry into
-the secret, and I shall think it right to dissuade my friends from the
-quest.”
-
-“In that I am sure you will be acting in accordance with the author's
-wishes,” said Mrs. Thrale, smiling knowingly.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXVII
-
-|SO they parted; and Lady Hales hastened back to her friends to whisper
-in their ears that the mystery was as good as solved: Mrs. Thrale had as
-much as acknowledged that she was the author of “Evelina,” but she hoped
-that, as she had written the book without the knowledge of her husband,
-her friends would respect her desire to remain anonymous.
-
-“Mr. Thrale, being a Member of Parliament, would not like to have the
-name of his wife bandied about among ordinary people as that of the
-writer of a novel,” Lady Hales explained, though really no explanation
-was needed of a fact that could be appreciated by every sensible person
-aware of the contemptible character of the novels of the day. “Only Dr.
-Johnson is in the secret,” she continued. “Dr. Johnson, as we all know,
-lives at Thrale Hall for five days out of every week, finding the table
-provided by Mrs. Thrale to suit his palate very much better than that
-controlled by poor blind Mrs. Williams at Bolt Court.”
-
-“That may account for some of the touches in the book in the style of
-Dr. Johnson,” said one of the ladies. “You may be sure that no book
-could be written under the same roof as Dr. Johnson without his having
-something to say to it.”
-
-“I never could understand how so fastidious a lady as Mrs. Thrale could
-tolerate the company of Dr. Johnson at her table, but now the secret is
-out--this secret and t'other,” said one of the gentlemen. “Dr. Johnson
-is not seen at his best at the dinner-table.”
-
-“So far as that goes, neither is Mr. Thrale himself,” said another. “He
-has a huge appetite.”
-
-“I had an inkling all along that Mrs. Thrale wrote the book,” said a
-lady with a huge hat. “I actually remarked to my sister, while I was
-reading it, 'if this story is not written by Mrs. Thrale, Mrs. Thrale is
-the one who would like to have written it.'”
-
-“But mind, not a word must be breathed that would hint that she
-acknowledged it to me by direct word of mouth,” cried Lady Hales,
-beginning to have some qualms. “No; you must understand clearly that she
-did not say in so many words that she wrote it. Indeed, her last words
-to me were, that anyone who should name in public the author of a book
-published anonymously would be guilty of a great discourtesy.”
-
-“She is perfectly right: to do so would be to exhibit very bad taste
-truly,” came more than one acquiescent voice.
-
-And the result of their complete agreement on this point was the
-immediate dissemination of the report that Mrs. Thrale was indeed the
-writer of “Evelina.”
-
-But that clever little lady, on getting rid of the questioner, found
-that Signor Rauzzini had slipped away from her side and was now making
-his adieux to Mrs. Burney and her stepdaughters. She noticed that the
-light had gone out of Fanny Burney's eyes as the young singer bent
-over her hand, and once again she shook her head. She had given more
-attention to Miss Burney during the previous hour than during all the
-years she had visited at St. Martin's Street. She thought that it might
-be her duty to say a word of warning to the young woman, who could not
-possibly know anything about the world or the deceitfulness of Italian
-vocalists.
-
-Meantime, however, she ordered one of her three footmen to tell the
-coachman to drive to the shop of Lowndes, the bookseller, and there she
-purchased a bound copy of “Evelina,” at nine shillings.
-
-Mrs. Thrale was, of course, well known to Mr. Lowndes, and seeing her,
-through the window of his office, enter his shop, he put his quill
-behind his ear and emerged, bowing and smiling.
-
-“How was it that you failed to apprise me that you had printed 'Evelina
-'?” she inquired.
-
-“Is't possible that you did not receive my advertisement, madam?” he
-cried. “Why, I posted it to you with my own hands even before the book
-had left the press, the truth being that I was anxious to get your
-opinion respecting it.”
-
-“I never had any advertisement from you about it,” she replied.
-
-“Oh, I was to blame for not underlining the announcement, madam,” said
-he. “I ask your pardon. How were you to know that it was not one of the
-usual novels of the season?--I do not venture to recommend such to the
-attention of ladies of superior tastes like yourself, madam. I shall not
-forgive myself, rest assured. But I am punished, in that I have been
-unable to sell a second edition by telling my customers how highly it
-was esteemed by Mrs. Thrale.”
-
-“You assume that it would be highly esteemed by me, Mr. Lowndes; but I
-am not quite sure that you do not flatter yourself in believing that my
-judgment would be the same as that of the public. The poor public! How
-can they possibly know whether a book is good or bad?”
-
-“They cannot, madam; that is why we poor booksellers must only trust to
-sell our books on the recommendation of ladies of taste and judgment.
-May I beg, madam, that you will favour me with your opinion respecting
-the merits of 'Evelina'?”
-
-“It has been so great a success that I fear I shall not think highly of
-it. Pray, who is your modest author?”
-
-“Positively, madam, I am unable to tell you. The MS. was brought to me
-with a letter purporting to come from a Mr. Grafton at the Orange Coffee
-House, near the Haymarket, and he desired the secret of its authorship
-to be kept close.”
-
-“Ah, yes; to be sure--kept close from the vulgar public; but he could
-never think that you were violating his confidence by telling me his
-name.”
-
-“He could not be so unreasonable, madam--nay, rather would he kneel
-to you--for he could scarce fail to understand the value that we set
-on----”
-
-“I am not convinced either that he would benefit from the exchange of
-confidence or that I should; but prithee, sir, what is his name?”
-
-“'Fore heaven, madam, I have told you so much as is known by me
-respecting the gentleman. Never before have I been placed in so
-remarkable a position. My fault, Mrs. Thrale, no doubt: I should have
-taken precautions against being thus surprised into publishing a book
-without knowing the name of the author. But although my judgment enabled
-me to perceive that the work was out of the common, yet I never counted
-on its merits being recognized so speedily. May I beg of you to favour
-me with your opinion as to who the writer may be, madam--that is, when
-you have read it, unless, indeed--” he glanced at her shrewdly with
-a little knowing smile-- “unless, indeed, you could so favour me
-_instanter_.”
-
-“Nay, Mr. Lowndes, how would it be possible for me to give you an
-opinion as to the authorship of a book which I have not yet read? I am
-not one of those astute critics who, they say, can tell you all there
-is to be known about a book without cutting the leaves, or even--if you
-slip a guinea into their hand--without opening the covers.”
-
-“I thought that perhaps you might be one of those who have been let into
-the secret, madam. I trust that Dr. Johnson's health has not been so bad
-as to prevent him from doing any literary work. Ah, what does not that
-great man--nay, what does not the world owe to you, Mrs. Thrale?”
-
-“If you would suggest, Mr. Lowndes, that the book about which we have
-been conversing was written, even in part, by Dr. Johnson, I can give
-you an assurance that such is not the case. He is in no way inclined
-to engage in any form of literary labour. He grudges his friends even a
-note.”
-
-“There are some gentlemen who come hither and honour me by conversing
-on the subject of letters, and more than one of them has pointed out
-passages in 'Evelina' that show signs of the great Doctor's pen; but for
-that matter----”
-
-“I agree with you, sir; every scribbler in Grub Street apes the style of
-Dr. Johnson, but only to reveal the ape in himself. Now, Mr. Lowndes,
-if you really are in earnest in saying that you are unaware who is the
-author of your book, I have done you some service in curtailing by one
-the list of authors to whom it might possibly be attributed. You may
-strike out the name of Johnson, sir, on my authority.”
-
-“I shall certainly do so, madam--not that I, for my own part, was ever
-foolish enough to fancy that he had written more of it than a page or
-two. I am indebted to you, Mrs. Thrale.”
-
-“Then if you would wish to pay off the debt, you can do so by informing
-me of your success in discovering the writer. 'Tis quite impossible to
-conceive of the man's remaining unrevealed for any length of time, and I
-confess that I am anxious to know if he is among my acquaintance.”
-
-“You assume the sex, madam.”
-
-“What, have you a doubt of it?”
-
-“There are so many literary ladies nowadays, Mrs. Thrale.”
-
-“But you surely saw the handwriting of the script?”
-
-“That is just the point. My printers have examined it and say that it
-is a lady's caligraphy only disguised to look like a man's. In my own
-judgment they are right. It is an upright hand, neat and clear--not in
-the least like that of an author. Still, that counts but little, seeing
-that the writer of the book would be pretty certain to have a clear copy
-made of his script by someone else. I have had a suspicion, from the
-mystery insisted on by this Mr. Grafton, that he is none other than the
-author of the 'Castle of Otranto.'”
-
-“What, Mr. Walpole?”
-
-“Even so. You recollect how delighted he was to conceal the hand he had
-in that book--going much farther than I thought any gentleman would in
-honour go, to make people believe it was what it pretended to be?”
-
-“Mr. Lowndes, I know not what your experience has been; but mine is
-that when a gentleman becomes an author he lays aside whatever sense of
-honour he possesses as a gentleman.”
-
-“I have had little to do with gentlemen authors, madam. Most of my
-writers are simply authors.”
-
-“And Mr. Walpole very properly put himself in line with them, and so had
-no hesitation in carrying out his fraud in 'Otranto.' Well, if it be so,
-you may count on his revealing himself now that the book has become a
-success. In any case, you will not forget to keep me informed, and I
-shall esteem it a favour, Mr. Lowndes.”
-
-Mr. Lowndes renewed his promise and bowed the lady to the door. The
-three volumes of “Evelina” had been brought out to the chariot by one
-of the footmen, a second following in his footsteps to see that he
-deposited them fairly upon one of the cushions, and a third standing by
-the open door in case of the breakdown of either of the others.
-
-Mrs. Thrale got into the splendid machine, the three lackeys swung
-themselves up on their platform behind, and clung on to the heavy
-straps, looking, in their brilliant livery, as the chariot lurched away
-over the uneven cobble-stones, like mighty butterflies of a tropical
-forest swaying together on the rim of a gigantic flower.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXVIII
-
-|NO chance had Rauzzini of saying more than the most conventional words
-of farewell to Fanny. Mrs. Burney was beside her and her two sisters
-also. He yielded to his impulse to pronounce a malediction on Mrs.
-Thrale, who had so interrupted his conversation with Fanny--the last he
-could possibly have until his return from France after fulfilling his
-engagements. But this was when he had seen the Burney family out of
-the door of the house in Leicester Fields and to the entrance to St.
-Martin's Street. He was then alone, and could give in some measure
-expression to his feelings in his own tongue.
-
-His imagination was quite vivid enough to suggest to him all that the
-officiousness of Mrs. Thrale had interrupted--the exchange of vows--the
-whispered assurances of fidelity--perhaps a passionate kiss--a
-heaven-sent chance during a marvellous minute when the painting-room
-should be emptied of all but herself and him! It was distracting to
-think of all that had been cut out of his life by that busybody. While
-he had been talking alone with Fanny his eyes had taken in the splendid
-possibilities of the painting-room. There were three immense easels on
-different parts of the floor, and each carried a glorious canvas for
-a life-size portrait. Two of them were already finished, and the third
-contained a portion of the Greek altar at which a fair lady was to be
-depicted making her oblation to Aphrodite, or perhaps Artemis. The young
-man, however, did not give a thought to the glowing work of the great
-painter on the canvases, he thought only of the possibilities of a
-moment or two spent in the protecting shadow of one of them with that
-gentle, loving girl yielding herself to his clasp--only for a moment--he
-could not reasonably hope that it should be for longer than a single
-moment, but what raptures might not be embraced even within that brief
-space! A moment--one immortal moment worth years of life! That was
-what he saw awaiting him in the friendly shade of one of Sir Joshua's
-portraits--that was all that the sublime picture meant to the ardent
-lover--it was not the immortal picture, but the immortal moment that was
-before his eyes--but just when, by a little manoeuvring on his part, the
-joy that should change all his life and console him for being deprived
-of the society of his beloved for three months, was within his reach,
-that foolish woman had come bustling up with her chatter and had
-separated them!
-
-For which he now implored heaven and a heathen deity or two that still
-linger in the language of malediction in their native Italy, to send
-her soul to the region where Orpheus had sought his Eurydice. Down--down
-with her to the lowest depths of the Inferno he implored his patrons to
-bear her and to keep her there for ever.
-
-His imploration was quite as lyrical as his “Waft her, Angels, to the
-Skies,” only its bearing was upon the fate of the lady in just the
-opposite direction, and he was even more fervent in its delivery. But
-having delivered it, he felt some of that relief which is experienced
-by a true artist who has a consciousness of having done some measure of
-justice to his theme. He felt that if beatitude had been denied to him,
-the one who had separated him from it would not escape scathless, if the
-intensity of an appeal to the high gods of his native land counted for
-anything in their estimation.
-
-And then he went more or less contentedly to his lodgings to prepare for
-his appearance in the opera of the night.
-
-He sang divinely as an angel, and again if any of his audience remained
-unmoved by the enchantment of his voice, they certainly could not but
-have yielded to the charm of his presence. Some women might be incapable
-of appreciating the exquisite character of his vocalism, but none could
-remain impervious to the appeal of his smile.
-
-As for the girl who alone had appealed to his heart, she went home with
-her mother and sisters without a word, for she had not perceived the
-glorious possibilities lurking behind the grand canvases in Sir Joshua's
-painting-room. She could even bring herself to believe that the coming
-of Mrs. Thrale had been rather opportune than otherwise; for if she had
-not joined her stepmother at that time she would not have heard all that
-Sir Joshua had said about “Evelina.”
-
-All that she had heard had made her supremely happy, not, she thought,
-because she was greedy for fame, but because it meant to her that she
-was a step nearer to the arms of the man she loved. The fame which Sir
-Joshua's words implied was dear to her because she knew that she need
-not now hesitate to seat herself by the side of this king of men, as his
-equal--no, not quite as his equal, but certainly not as a beggar maid.
-She knew that when it was announced that she was the writer of a great
-book, or, what was better still, a book that everybody was talking
-about, people would not shrug their shoulders when they heard that
-Rauzzini> the Roman singer, whose name was in everybody's mouth, was
-about to marry her. The event that she scarcely dared hope for had
-actually happened: she was no longer the nobody which she had been, she
-was a woman the product of whose brain had been acclaimed by the best
-judges, and so the barrier that she had seen separating her lover from
-herself had been thrown down. The same voices that had acclaimed her
-Rauzzini as a singer had acclaimed her as a writer; for though she had
-hesitated to receive her cousin Edward's reports from the libraries as
-conclusive of the mark that the book was making, she could not now
-have any doubt on the subject: a book that was spoken of by Sir Joshua
-Reynolds as he had spoken of “Evelina” must be granted a place high
-above the usual volumes to be found on the shelves of a circulating
-library. She was convinced that in a short time everyone would be
-talking about it in the same strain, and though people might be
-incredible on the subject of its authorship, the fact would remain the
-same--she had written the book, and the fame that attached to the writer
-would assuredly be hers. There would now be no sneering references to
-King Cophetua. Everyone within their circle would admit that there
-was no disparity between her position as the writer of the book that
-everyone was talking about and that of the singer whom people crowded to
-hear.
-
-She felt supremely happy. Though Mrs. Burney had not shown any
-particular wish to repeat what Reynolds had said to her about the
-book, she knew perfectly well that this was only because of her general
-distrust of anything in the form of a novel, and her fear lest something
-unreadable should get into the hands of the girls. But Fanny also knew
-that the fact of Mrs. Burney's shunning the novels of the circulating
-libraries would not interfere with the reputation that must accrue to
-the author of “Evelina”; so she was not affected by the indifference
-shown by her stepmother to all that Reynolds had said. She awaited
-without impatience the day when her father should take up the book and
-read the Ode at the beginning. She felt that, although his name was not
-at the head, he would know that the verses were addressed to him, and
-that it was his daughter Fanny who had written them. She knew that
-however firmly he might assert himself on the side of his wife in
-preventing the entrance to the house of all novels excepting those of
-Richardson--Fanny herself had never had a chance of reading even
-“The Vicar of Wakefield”--he would be proud of her as the writer of
-“Evelina.” She was not quite sure if he would be as proud of her as if
-she had developed a wonderful musical capacity; but she never doubted
-that his affection for her--assisted by his knowledge of the impression
-the book had made upon the most important of his own associates--would
-cause him to take her into his arms with delight and to forgive her
-for running the chance of being classed among the Miss Minifies of the
-period--the female writers whose ridiculous productions were hidden
-beneath the sofa cushions in so many households. Fanny Burney was a
-dutiful daughter and she had nothing of the cynic about her, but she was
-well aware of the fact that success would be regarded by her father as
-justifying an experiment that failure would have made discreditable.
-
-Once more, then, the three sisters met that night in Fanny's bedroom.
-The two younger could now look on her without their feeling of awe. They
-were on the verge of being indignant with Mrs. Burney for having made no
-reference whatever since returning from the Reynoldses to the subject of
-Sir Joshua's eulogy.
-
-“Not once did she mention the name of 'Evelina' to the padre; Sir
-Joshua might just as well have talked of Miss Herschel's comet to her,”
- said Susy.
-
-“And after our schooling ourselves so rigidly to give no sign that we
-were in any measure connected with the book too--it was cruel!” said
-Lottie.
-
-“It was not as if the padre did not give her a good chance more than
-once,” continued Susy. “Did he not ask if anyone had given her any news?
-And what did she answer?--Why, only that someone had said that Mr. Fox
-had lost a fortune a few nights ago at faro! As if anybody cares about
-Mr. Fox! I was prepared for her opening out at once to him about the
-book--maybe begging him to send Williams to buy it at Mr. Lowndes'.”
-
-“What, at seven-and-sixpence!” cried Fanny. “My dear child, do you know
-mamma no better than to fancy that?”
-
-“What I don't know is how she resisted it,” said Lottie. “Oh, you heard
-how Sir Joshua talked about it; and Miss Reynolds too--she praised it up
-to the skies.”
-
-“Other people in the painting-room as well as in the drawing-room were
-talking of it,” said Susy. “I heard the beautiful Miss Horneck speak
-of it to the lady with the big muff and the rose taffeta with the
-forget-me-not embroidery.”
-
-“I am sure that everybody was speaking of it--I could hear the name
-'Evelina' buzzing round the rooms,” cried Lottie.
-
-“Yes; everyone was talking about it, and only mamma was silent--_is_
-silent. I don't think that at all fair,” continued Susy.
-
-Fanny laughed.
-
-“You are silly little geese,” she cried. “Could you not see that she
-would not mention it lest it should reach our ears and we should be
-filled with an _irresistible_ desire to possess it--_it_--a modern
-novel! Think of it! Oh, my dears, you are too unreasonable, Mamma knows
-her duty too well to allow even the name of a novel to pass her lips
-and maybe reach the ears of such a group of fly-away young things as
-ourselves! She understands the extent of her responsibilities. Go to
-your beds and be thankful that you have so excellent a guardian.”
-
-“But when we were prepared----” began one of them, when Fanny
-interrupted her.
-
-“You may conserve your preparations--you will hear her say the name soon
-enough--you may depend upon that,” she said. “You may prepare to hear
-yourselves summoned into her presence to give a full and true account
-of your complicity in the thing which was perpetrated under this sacred
-roof--nay, in the very room where the great philosopher Newton wrote his
-thesis! A novel written in the room in which the divine 'Principia'
-was produced! Why, 'twere as bad in mamma's eyes as acting one of Mr.
-Foote's farces in St. Paul's Cathedral. Oh, yes, you'll have to face her
-soon enough, and after that you'll never wish to hear the name Evelina
-again. Now, good-night, and thank heaven for your respite.”
-
-They left her, glum and dissatisfied. It was plain to her that they were
-disappointed at not being given the opportunity of showing how admirably
-they had themselves under control in regard to the secret--of showing
-Fanny how they could hear Mrs. Burney talk at length about “Evelina,”
- while neither of them gave the least sign of ever having heard the name
-before. It was indeed disappointing that all their studied immobility
-should go for nothing.
-
-But Fanny knew that their secret could not possibly remain hidden for
-many more days. If the book was going into everybody's hands, her father
-would be certain to have it, and then--would he not know? Would not she
-be summoned into his presence and that of his wife--the lady of many
-responsibilities--and required to defend herself?...
-
-She fell asleep before she had come to any conclusion as to the line of
-defence that she should adopt.
-
-And in spite of the readiness of her sisters for any inquisition to
-which they might be summoned, they were startled--as was also Fanny
-herself--when, immediately after a rather silent and portentous
-breakfast, Mrs. Burney said:
-
-“Susy and Lottie, you may go to your duties. You, Fanny, will remain, as
-your father wishes to speak to you on a matter of some gravity.”
-
-So the long-expected hour had come, the three girls thought. By some
-accident unknown to them their secret was exposed, and Fanny was about
-to be called upon to explain, if she could, to the satisfaction of
-her father and her stepmother, how it came that she so far forgot the
-precepts of her upbringing as to write a novel quite in the modern
-spirit, though adopting a form which the master-touch of Mr. Samuel
-Richardson had hallowed.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXIX
-
-|THE two girls left the room slowly, after sending in the direction of
-Fanny a glance which they meant should encourage her--a glance which
-should let her know that they were quite ready to share her punishment,
-should the worst come to the worst.
-
-Fanny replied to them with her eyes; and then prepared for the worst.
-
-It quickly came.
-
-“My dear daughter,” said Dr. Burney, when they were alone, Mrs. Burney
-in her chair at the head of the table. “My dear Fanny, I am no believer
-in leading by degrees up to such a communication as I have to make to
-you. I think that the sooner it is got over the better it will be
-for all whom it may concern. Well, this is it: Mr. Thomas Barlowe has
-written to me asking my permission for him to address you with a view to
-marriage.”
-
-He made a pause, looking at her to observe the effect of this
-revelation.
-
-And what he saw at first was a girl with a pale face and downcast eyes,
-awaiting, almost breathlessly, an accusation from which she shrank; but
-when he had spoken he saw a great change come over her. Not immediately,
-but gradually. It seemed to him that she had not fully realized the
-meaning of his words--that she was puzzled--trying to recall what he had
-said. Then the light seemed to dawn upon her. She flushed, and, after
-a few moments, threw back her head and went into a peal of laughter--a
-real schoolgirl's fit of laughter at something amazingly comic--the
-tumbling of a clown into a pool of water with a splash, or, perhaps, the
-slipping of a dignified beadle upon a butter slide. Her laughter went
-on for a long time, but without in the least suggesting hysteria--it
-was simply a girl's natural laughter on realizing the comic side of a
-situation which grown-up people would regard as extremely serious.
-
-Neither her father nor his wife could understand why she should receive
-in such a spirit an essentially serious communication--the most serious
-that any young woman could receive. They had not before them the
-ludicrous picture that presented itself to her imagination--a picture of
-the Roman Rauzzini on the one side and the Poultry Barlowe on the other,
-asking her to choose between them. It was this presentment, coming in a
-flash the moment she realized that the publishing of the book was not
-the question which she had to face, that forced her to yield to that
-long fit of laughter.
-
-Her father and stepmother sat stolidly by, but she knew that had she and
-her father been alone, he would at least have smiled with her.
-
-In a few minutes she had recovered herself sufficiently to be able to
-apologize for her levity.
-
-“I beg your pardon,” she said. “I am behaving like a goose, but I could
-not help it--something forced me--something that occurred to me--a funny
-thing. I am very sorry.”
-
-“There is nothing funny that I can see in the honourable request made by
-an honest young man, my dear Fanny,” said Mrs. Burney.
-
-“No, no; nothing whatever; only--well, funny ideas will occur to foolish
-people like myself at the most serious moments,” said Fanny.
-
-“That is quite true, indeed,” said her father. “I have myself
-experienced what you say. Perhaps, after all, I should not have blurted
-out what I had to tell you--it came to you as a surprise, I doubt not.”
-
-“A great surprise, indeed,” she replied. “I cannot understand how Mr.
-Barlowe could ever fancy that I--that he--that--oh, I should have known
-what that terrible entertainment was meant to lead to--but when, in that
-clumsily marked way I was sent into the drawing-room with him alone, he
-began to talk of his uncle, the Aider-man--he said that the Alderman was
-quite approachable even in regard to ordinary people like ourselves--and
-then came his cousins--all of them remarkable! But you should have seen
-him slice away at the ham--the biggest ham I ever saw--it needed to
-be--such eating!”
-
-“The recollection of that no doubt made you laugh,” said Dr. Burney.
-“But, at the same time, you must remember that though the customs of
-the Poultry are not ours, still, they may be very reasonable
-customs--perhaps more reasonable than our own. It may suit us to dine as
-late as halfpast four and only to have a slice of cake with our tea; but
-business people find it more convenient to dine at one o'clock--it makes
-an equal division of their long working-day--so that a slice of ham----”
-
-“I know that is quite true, and I was not so foolish as to give myself
-airs because I had dined at half-past four and had no appetite for ham,”
- said Fanny; “but--oh, mother, you saw how foolishly formal was the whole
-thing.”
-
-“I said that I thought it quite unnecessarily formal,” replied Mrs.
-Burney, “and if I had had any notion that it was going to be like that
-I would certainly have given Mrs. Barlowe a hint. Still, Thomas is, I
-know, an excellent young man who has never given his parents an
-hour's uneasiness, and his intentions are honourable, and so should be
-honoured. If you have no tender regard for him at present that is no
-reason why, when you get accustomed to the thought of him as a suitor
-for your hand----”
-
-“Oh, mother, that is quite impossible!” cried Fanny. “How could I ever
-get accustomed to such a thought?”
-
-“I do not know why you should not,” replied Mrs. Burney. “He is a most
-worthy young man, and Mr. Barlowe's business is one of the best in
-the City. You must remember, my dear Fanny, that in these days a girl,
-unless she has a portion, runs a very great chance of becoming an old
-maid, so that no opportunity of settling down in a comfortable home
-should be neglected.”
-
-“That is perfectly true,” said Dr. Burney. “You will understand that we
-have no desire to force this or any match upon you, my dear child: so
-long as I have a house over my head you shall share it. But I am sure
-that you must know that I am a poor man to-day, although I have worked
-as hard at my profession as any living man, and I cannot provide you or
-your sisters with any portion. Heaven knows that if I had a fortune I
-would gladly divide it among you; but as it is, I think it right to tell
-you that you need expect nothing.”
-
-“Dearest father,” said Fanny, dissolving into tears, as she took his
-hand and kissed it, “I have never expected a fortune from you--not a
-penny piece. I know that I shall be portionless, and I daresay that Mr.
-Barlowe thinks himself generous in his proposal; but I could never bring
-myself to accept him--to look on him as a suitor. It would be quite
-impossible. If I thought it possible that I should ever have any
-affection for him, I might feel myself justified in encouraging him; but
-I know that it would be out of the question. I would prefer to go forth
-and beg my bread--nay, to starve.”
-
-“Then we shall pursue the matter no farther for the present,” said her
-father, kissing her on the forehead as she nestled close to him.
-
-“Yes, that is best--for the present,” acquiesced his wife. “Still, if
-you will be advised by me, my dear Fanny, you will remember that Mr.
-Barlowe is ready to address you knowing that you will be portionless,
-and if you bear that in mind, perhaps you will be surprised to find
-some' day, not so far distant, that the thought of him is not so
-repugnant to you. You are no longer a girl, and when one is midway
-between twenty and thirty every extra year counts in reducing one's
-chances of being settled in life. I could cite dozens of instances that
-I have known of young women being glad to accept at twenty-eight the
-suitors they scorned at twenty or even twenty-five. Oh, yes, the years
-come upon one and bring with them a clearer vision of life and love;
-frequently they bring regret for opportunities neglected. But we will
-not press the matter any farther--just now. I dare say the young man
-will submit to be put off--for a time.”
-
-“Nay, for ever,” said Fanny resolutely.
-
-“Oh, well,” said her stepmother.
-
-After a pause, during which Fanny seemed to be debating some matter
-in her mind, a little line showing itself along her forehead, she said
-slowly: “I do not think that I shall be a burden on you, dear father; I
-believe that one day I may be able to do something.”
-
-“Do not fancy that I would ever think of you as a burden, my dear
-child,” said her father. “But what do you mean by saying that you may
-one day do something?--some work, do you suggest?”
-
-“Something--I am fond of writing,” she murmured.
-
-He laughed gently, saying:
-
-“You are a very good girl, my love, and I know how much I am indebted to
-you for your admirable copying of my notes for the History; but do not
-let the idea take hold of you that such work is well paid. If you ever
-get in touch with a bookseller, he will tell you that the work of a
-copyist is very poorly paid.”
-
-“I was not thinking of copying,” murmured Fanny.
-
-“Of what then, pray?” he asked.
-
-“If I could but write a book,” she replied, with her eyes on the floor.
-
-“A book!” cried Mrs. Burney, who thought that she had been silent long
-enough. “A book!”
-
-“To be sure--to be sure,” said her father, in the indulgent tone of a
-parent humouring a child. “You might write a book--so might anyone who
-could pay for a ream of paper, a bottle of ink and a box of quills.
-You should speak to Mr. Newbery about it: he has printed many nursery
-stories since 'Goody Two Shoes.' You might indeed do something that the
-children would take a fancy to. Well, Francis Newbery is as honest a man
-as his uncle, and we may talk to him about it. By the by, did not you
-once tell me that you had written something, or that you were going to
-write something? You thought it proper to get my leave. I had forgotten
-that. Well, if it be a moral nursery story, we might interest Mr.
-Newbery in it.”
-
-“I do not think that it is quite wise to encourage a girl to neglect
-her useful household duties in order to compile some rubbish that no one
-would read,” said Mrs. Burney.
-
-“Of course you will understand that you are not to neglect your
-household duties, Fanny,” said her father.
-
-“If she performs her household duties and sticks to her needlework,
-she will have no time left for scribbling rubbish,” cried Mrs. Burney,
-hastily.
-
-“She made a bonfire of all that childish nonsense long ago, and I hope
-that she will never be so foolish as to waste good paper and pens and,
-most precious of all, good time, over such exercises. That is all we
-have to say just now, I think--is it not, Doctor? I shall reply to Mr.
-Barlowe's letter--a most creditable letter--straightforward--honourable!
-I am only sorry that I cannot make the reply to it that it deserves.”
-
-She had opened the door and called for William, their manservant, to
-remove the breakfast things. Fanny lingered for a few minutes after she
-had risen from her chair. She had assumed from the moment she had begun
-to speak of writing, that her opportunity had come; if her stepmother
-had not interposed so hastily and so emphatically, she would have made
-her confession as to “Evelina,”, let the consequences be what they
-might; but now that the servant had come with his tray and her
-stepmother jingled her key-basket, she perceived that her chance was
-gone. She had a sense of sneaking out of the room.
-
-As she went slowly up the stairs she could hear the voice of her
-stepmother remonstrating with her father for having said something that
-she, Fanny, might regard as encouragement to waste her precious time in
-the pursuit of such folly as writing a book.
-
-She heard her father's little laugh as he explained (she was sure) that
-of course he had not been speaking seriously; but that he had not the
-heart to be severe upon her and her harmless scribbling.
-
-The author of “Evelina” went very slowly upstairs, and when she reached
-the work-room landing she found Susy and Lottie waiting for her, glowing
-with excitement. Susy was waving over her head what seemed to be a bulky
-pamphlet. Coming closer, Fanny saw that it was the chief of the literary
-reviews, which had apparently just arrived at the house.
-
-“A splendid column about 'Evelina,'” she whispered. “Not so good as
-it should be, but still splendid. Here it is. But why are you so glum?
-Surely they did not scold you now that the book is so great a success.”
-
-“They did not ask me to tarry in the room to charge me with
-double-dealing in regard to the book,” said Fanny. “They would not allow
-me to make my confession when I had the opportunity--the best that I
-shall ever have. 'Twas not my confession that was on the _tapis_, but
-quite another. That is why I look glum.”
-
-“Another--another confession? But what had either of them to confess?”
- cried Lottie.
-
-“Nothing. They didn't confess.”
-
-“But whose confession was it, then, if not theirs?” asked Lottie.
-
-“It was young Mr. Barlowe's,” said Fanny, with a lugubriousness that was
-quite comic. “Young Mr. Barlowe wrote to the padre to confess that
-he was passionately--madly--in love with me, and threatening to drown
-himself unless permission were given to him to address me--we all know
-how fervently young Mr. Barlowe would put his case--that was what I was
-summoned to listen to--the fiery letter--only it was too ardent for my
-ears: I was only told its purport.”
-
-“But who would ever have thought that he had it in him?” cried Susy.
-“Such impudence! I never dreamt that he could rise to such a height of
-impudence or I should have thought better of him.”
-
-“'Tis not too late yet, my child,” said Fanny. “You are at liberty to
-think as highly of Thomas as you please--or as it would please him.
-Please take over his blighted affections and it will be a weight off
-my mind. Now give me a chance of reading my splendid review--not that
-I care in the least what these foolish critics may say of me--I care
-nothing, I tell you, only if you do not let me see it at once I shall
-die at your feet.”
-
-“There it is,” said Susy, “a full column! The idea of anyone written
-of in such terms being proposed to by Thomas Barlowe! Such impudence
-indeed!”
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXX
-
-|THE levity shown by Fanny Burney and the flippancy of her phrases did
-not wholly conceal from her sisters all that she was feeling on the
-subject of the proposal to which she had referred with such lightness.
-She knew that while her father and her stepmother would not treat her
-with any marked disfavour on account of her rejection of the worthy
-young man who was ready to offer her a home, still Mrs. Burney at least
-regarded with great disfavour the nature of the answer which she had
-to send to the Poultry, and Fanny was very well aware of the ease with
-which so conscientious a guardian as Mrs. Burney could make her feel
-every day of her life what was Mrs. Burney's opinion of her rejection of
-an eligible young man.
-
-Fanny recognized the great merits of her stepmother, and she could look
-from her standpoint at most of the incidents of their daily life. In
-that household one mouth less to feed was worth consideration--the
-number of mouths to feed was a constant source of thought with Mrs.
-Burney, as was also the question of a provision for the future of all of
-them.
-
-Mrs. Burney would be fully justified in feeling cross with her, not
-being aware of the fact that another young man, compared with whom
-Thomas Barlowe was as the dust of the ground, was burning, with an
-ardour of which Thomas was incapable, to take her to himself and provide
-for her in a style undreamt of in the Poultry.
-
-But the worst of the matter was that she could not let her stepmother
-into this secret. She could not say that she was engaged to marry Signor
-Rauzzini, and she might leave herself open to the gravest rebuke for
-having listened to his protestations of devotion without obtaining the
-consent of either of her parents.
-
-And through all this tangle of reflections there ran the silken thread
-of consciousness that she was no longer the Fanny Burney who was
-regarded by her stepmother as the dunce, but Fanny Burney the writer of
-“Evelina,” to whom the most critical review had devoted a full column of
-adulation!
-
-That was what made her position so anomalous; and it was because she
-took the happenings of the previous days to heart that she went to bed
-with a shocking headache, and after a sleepless night was found on the
-verge of a fever. She was suffering from suppressed secrets; but the
-doctor did not know this. He prescribed James's Powders; and when these
-should have done all that they were meant to do--a small part of all
-that Dr. James and Mr. Newbery affirmed they would do--a change into the
-country.
-
-But several weeks had passed before she was strong enough to start on
-the latter and most essential portion of the prescription, and found
-herself in her own room in Mr. Crisp's isolated house at Chessington.
-
-Meantime, of course, she had no further news of the book, and she
-remained unconfessed, so far as the secret of its publication was
-concerned. Her sisters did not so much as mention its name or the name
-of Thomas Barlowe, so cleverly had they diagnosed the nature of her
-malady and so tactfully did they try to hasten her recovery.
-
-Her old friend Mr. Crisp had been her guide since her childhood. She
-always alluded to him as her second Daddy--so far as paternal influence
-was concerned she might have given him the foremost place. He it was who
-had led her on to embody in letters to him the daily incidents of
-her life, thus unconsciously setting the loom, as it were, in which
-“Evelina” was to be woven. He it was who became her teacher and her
-critic, and it was possibly because she feared his criticism of her work
-that she refrained from making a confidant of him from the first. She
-felt that she could face the public and the reviewers--it did not matter
-how they might receive the book, but she was too timid to submit it to
-the mature judgment of the man who had first put a pen in her hand. It
-was not on her own account that she refrained from giving him a chance
-of reading her book, but on his: she knew how hurt he would be if he
-found her book to be an indifferent one, and whether indifferent or not,
-how angry he would be if people did not buy it by the thousand.
-
-Now, however, that she found herself alone with him, she made up her
-mind to tell him all about it. She would choose her own time for doing
-this; but it would certainly be done before she returned to St. Martin's
-Street.
-
-But on the second day after her arrival at Ches-sington a parcel came
-for her, addressed by Susy. On opening it, she found it to contain two
-volumes of “Evelina.” The letter that was enclosed told her that Cousin
-Edward had called at the Orange Coffee House and found that a set
-had been left there at the instance of Mr. Lowndes, addressed to Mr.
-Grafton. Of these, Lottie had read the first two, which were now sent on
-to the author, but the third she had not finished, and hoped that Fanny
-would not mind her detaining it for a few days longer.
-
-This was really the first glimpse that the author had of her book in its
-binding. She had, in the name of Mr. Grafton, requested Mr. Lowndes
-to send a set of the volumes to the Orange Coffee House. But that was
-nearly three months ago, and until now Mr. Lowndes appeared not to have
-thought it worth his while to comply with the request. Now, however, it
-seemed to have occurred to him that the author of a book that everyone
-was talking about might be worth conciliating, and so he had directed a
-set of volumes to the Coffee House.
-
-At once Fanny made up her mind that she would pave the way, so to speak,
-for a full confession to Mr. Crisp.
-
-“Susy has sent me on two volumes of a new novel, lest I should feel
-dull,” she said. “As if I am not much more likely to feel dull in the
-company of a new novel than of my old Daddy!”
-
-“I thought that your stepmother prohibited the reading of novels, new or
-old, in your house,” said he.
-
-“Perhaps mamma did not know anything about this particular one,” replied
-Fanny; “besides, it is to be read in your house, not ours.”
-
-“So that the responsibility will be mine?” said he. “Mrs. Burney is
-only answerable to heaven for keeping your mind free from the baleful
-influence of novels, but I am in a worse case, for I am answerable to
-Mrs. Burney. And what is the name of the precious production?”
-
-“Let me see,” said Fanny, artfully referring to the title page. “Oh,
-yes: 'Evelina; or, a Young Lady's Entrance into the World.' Do you call
-that an alluring title?”
-
-“Too sentimental by half,” he replied. “But I have heard of the thing,
-and one of the reviews dealt with it some weeks ago.”
-
-“Praise or blame?”
-
-“Oh, foolish adulation for the great part; but not without a reasonable
-word here and there.”
-
-“The reasonable part you are sure must be the censorious? That is not
-fair to the poor author.”
-
-“Poor author? Yes, they are all poor authors nowadays. What's the name
-of this particular item of poverty?”
-
-“There is no name on the title page; but I hear that the writer was Mr.
-Anstey himself.”
-
-“What! another 'Bath Guide'!”
-
-“Sir Joshua Reynolds told mamma that he had remained up all night
-reading it.”
-
-“Poor Sir Joshua! His eyes are none too good at the best! And does Susy
-believe that the book which kept Sir Joshua awake is the best one to
-send you asleep? You came to Chessington, you know, to get as much as
-possible; 'Tired Nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep!' the truest words
-that Shakespeare ever writ.”
-
-“What I propose to do is to try it upon you, my dear sir. I mean to give
-you a dose of it this evening, instead of gruel, and if it makes you
-sleep I will know that I may continue it for myself--it will be more
-wholesome than poppy or mandragora.”
-
-“Good! But I dare swear that it will be bad enough to keep me awake. You
-know that extremes meet in the case of books, as well as other matters;
-one keeps awake reading a good book, in expectancy of its undeveloped
-goodness; and reading a bad one, wondering how far the author can
-actually go in point of dullness.”
-
-“I have often thought that; but Susy has sent only two of the three
-volumes.”
-
-“So that we shall not be able to fathom the full depth of the author's
-dullness? We should be grateful to Susy--so should the author. Well, you
-shall begin after tea, while there is yet daylight: _Le livre ne vaut
-pas la chandelle._”
-
-“_Nous verrons_,” cried Fanny.
-
-And she started reading the book that same day, an hour before sunset.
-The room in which they sat was a small one with a window facing the west
-and overlooking a long stretch of billowy common. The spicy scent of
-the wallflowers in the little garden patch at the side of the house was
-wafted through the half-open lattice, and occasionally there came the
-sound of the ducks gabbling at the pool beyond the gate that shut off
-the house from the lane. It was a cloudless evening, and the sunset
-promised to be peach-like in its tender tints of pink and saffron with
-the curves of delicate green in the higher sky. Fanny sat at the window
-and the old man reclined at his ease upon the sofa.
-
-“I am giving myself every chance,” he said. “All that I ask of you, my
-Fannikin, is that you do not glance at me every now and again to see
-if I am still awake. If you do so, I shall never yield to so much as a
-doze.”
-
-“I promise faithfully to await your signal that you are alert,” said
-she.
-
-And so began one of the most delightful hours of her life.
-
-She was not a particularly good reader aloud when a book was casually
-put into her hands, but here she had before her a volume that she could
-almost have repeated verbatim, so that she soon found that she was just
-too fluent: she felt that if she went on at this rate his critical ear
-would tell him that she had every page by heart, and he would ask her
-for an explanation of so singular a thing as her being able to repeat
-so much of a book which she professed to have in her hands for the first
-time. She put a check upon her fluency, and though she did not go so
-far as to simulate stumbling over certain words, she neglected the
-punctuation now and again, and then went back upon some of the passages,
-causing him to give a little grumble and say:
-
-“Be careful, my dear; there's no need for haste: the evening is still
-young.”
-
-After that she was more careful--which is the same as saying she was
-more careless of adhering to the scheme she had adopted. She felt that
-as he had now been put off the scent, she might run along as she pleased
-without there being a chance of his suspecting anything through her
-showing herself familiar with passage after passage.
-
-Before she had got through more than a dozen pages she heard a creaking
-of the sofa--she trusted herself to glance in that direction and
-found that he was no longer reclining: he was sitting up and listening
-attentively. She continued reading without making a remark for a full
-hour. The sun had set, but the twilight was clear enough to allow of her
-seeing the print on the page before her for some time still; then the
-darkness seemed to fall all at once, and she laid the book down when she
-had come to the close of one of the letters.
-
-“Candles,” he said. “Candles! Upon my word, the world is right for once:
-the stuff is good. We must have candles. Candles, I say!”
-
-“Supper, say I,” cried Fanny. “I feel that I have need of bodily
-refreshment after such a task. Does it sound real to you, Daddy
-Crisp--all about the Young Lady who is about to enter the world?”
-
-“Not merely does it sound real, it is real--it is reality,” he replied
-quickly. “The man who wrote what you have read has something of the
-genius of--of--now whom does he resemble, think you?--Richardson here
-and there, and in places, Fielding, it seems to me.”
-
-“You suppose that 'tis written by a man?” she said.
-
-“Why, of course, 'tis the work of a man,” he replied. “Where is the
-woman living that is capable of writing a single page of that book?
-What, have I gone to so much trouble in training you to understand
-what is bad and what is good in writing, to so little purpose, that you
-should have a doubt as to the sex of what you have just read?”
-
-“The sex of a book--a novel?”
-
-“Why not? There are masculine books and there is feminine--trash. There
-you have the difference.”
-
-“And you do not consider this to be--trash?”
-
-“Will you get the candles, Miss Burney? It seems that you are sorely in
-need of illumination if you put that question to me seriously. Trash?
-Madam, you perceive that I am all eagerness to hear the rest of the
-story, and yet you put that silly question to me! Look you here, you
-rogue, cannot you see that the very fact of your putting such a question
-to me shows that the book is the work of a man? When a carefully trained
-woman such as you cannot yet discriminate between the good and the trash
-that is written, how would it be possible for a woman to write what you
-have read?”
-
-“You think there is nothing womanly in the book?”
-
-“There is nothing effeminate in the writing, so much is sure. There is
-plenty that is womanly in the book, because the man who wrote it knows
-how to convey to a reader a sense of womanliness to be in keeping with
-the character of the letters--that is what is meant by genius. A woman
-trying to produce the same effect would show the frill of her petticoat
-on every page. She would make the men's parts in the book as feminine as
-the women's. Now, no more chatter an you please, but get the candles.”
-
-“And Mrs. Hamilton will get our supper by their light.”
-
-Fanny tripped away, and was behind the door of the larder before she
-allowed the laughter which was pent up very close to her eyes to have
-its freedom. It was a very hearty laugh that she had, for there was a
-constant buzzing in her ears of the question:
-
-“What will he say when he learns the truth?”
-
-She was ready to dance her Nancy Dawson in delight at seeing the effect
-of the book upon the old man whom she loved--the man who was directly
-responsible for its existence. If Mr. Crisp had not taken trouble with
-her, encouraging her to write her letters to him in a natural style, the
-correspondence in “Evelina” would, she knew, be very different from what
-it was. So, after all, she reflected, he was right in pronouncing the
-book the work of a man; but he had no idea that he was the man who was
-responsible for it. That reflection of hers was as fully imbued with the
-true spirit of comedy as her anticipation of the effect that would be
-produced upon him by the revelation of the authorship.
-
-And that was why this young student of the human comedy was able to
-restrain herself from making the revelation to him at once: she had, as
-it were, a delicate palate for comedy, and it was a delight to her--the
-gratification of her natural vanity had nothing to do with it--to lead
-him on to commit himself more deeply every moment on the question of the
-sex of the writer. Oh, no; she had no idea of making any confession to
-him for the present. She would have many another chat with him before
-the moment for that _dénouement_ in the comedy should arrive.
-
-So she got the candles and the housekeeper laid the cold chicken and the
-plates on the supper-table, and Mr. Crisp set about mixing the salad in
-the manner he had acquired in Italy. And all the time they were engaged
-over the simple meal he was criticising what she had read, and he had
-scarcely a word to say about it that was not favourable. But he took
-care to protect himself in case he should be forced to retire from the
-position he had taken up.
-
-“A man is a fool to pronounce an opinion on a book before he has had
-the last page read to him,” he said. “I have only been touching upon the
-part that I have heard, and I say that it seems to me to be as good
-as anything I have read for years; but that is not saying that the
-remainder, or some portions of the remainder, may not be so greatly
-inferior as to compel me to pronounce unfavourably of the book as a
-whole. I have had instances of such inequality shown by many writers,
-and it may be that the writer of 'Evelina' will be added to the list,
-although he shows no sign of falling off up to your last page. Do not be
-hurried by me, my dear, but if you have indeed made up your mind to eat
-no cheese, Mrs. Hamilton can remove the _débris_, and unless you are
-tired, you will read me a few pages more.”
-
-She read until midnight. The only pauses that she made were when he
-trimmed the wicks of the candles. He commended her fluency. She
-had never read better in his hearing, he said. She showed that she
-understood what she was reading; and that, after all, was the greatest
-praise that could be given to anyone. He did not suggest the likelihood
-that she was tired.
-
-There was the sound of the bleating of lambs occasionally borne from the
-meadows beyond the little stream--the sound of an owl that came nightly
-about the house from the barn of the farm a few hundred yards away--the
-sound of a large moth bumping against the glass of the casement through
-which the candle-light shone. There was nothing to interrupt her in her
-delightful task until the church clock struck the hour of midnight.
-
-“Not another line,” she cried, jumping from her chair. “Poor Evelina!
-she will be the better for a sleep. When she awakens she may be able to
-see more clearly who are her true friends and who are not to be trusted.
-Good-night, dear Daddy; and receive my thanks for your attention.”
-
-“Give me the volume,” he said. “I usually awake before six, and so shall
-have a couple of hours of it before rising.”
-
-“You will not get it from me, sir,” she cried. “Captain Mervain knows
-the naval rule about drinking glass for glass, and let me tell you that
-the same rule holds in the matter of reading a book--chapter for chapter
-between us, sir; we shall finish as we have begun.”
-
-She blew him a kiss and ran upstairs to escape his protests: he shouted
-them after her from the foot of the stairs.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXXI
-
-|THE next morning was a lovely one, and Fanny was feeding the ducks
-in the brook before eight o'clock. When she came into the house to
-breakfast she found Mr. Crisp in the porch.
-
-“You have given me a sleepless night,” he said. “I lay awake
-endeavouring to determine for my own satisfaction what would be the
-outcome of the girl's meeting that dreadful Branghton family. I worked
-out the story to its proper conclusion--so I thought--on my left side;
-but when I turned on my right I found that I had been grossly astray in
-all my fancies; and forthwith I set to work to put myself right. After
-an hour or two I thought I had succeeded, but, lo! a turn on my back and
-I saw that, as I planned it, the story would never come to an end. So
-I kept on until the dawn. Then I fell asleep, but only to find myself
-surrounded by demons, in the form of Branghtons, and a master devil
-wearing the epaulets of a naval officer, and he made for me with a
-horrid leer and a cry of Mervain! I awoke in a worse state than did the
-Duke of Clarence in the play, and I have not slept since. Oh, that
-little mischief, Susy! Wherefore did she send hither that magic book to
-be my undoing?”
-
-“Ah, sir, never before did I perceive the evil of novel reading,” she
-said. “I could not understand my mother's banning all such books, but
-now I see the wisdom of it. I now see how they tend to unsettle one.
-But it may not yet be too late to save you from the evil influence of
-'Evelina.' If I read no more of her story, you will soon forget her and
-all may be well.”
-
-“You will read no more? Good! Carry out your threat and I will e'en take
-the coach to London and buy a full set at Mr. Newbery's.”
-
-“At Mr. Newbery's? Ah, sir, that is a threat you could not carry out,
-however vindictive you might be.”
-
-“And why not, prithee? Think you I would begrudge the seven or eight
-shillings it would cost?”
-
-“Nay, sir; but if you went to Mr. Newbery you would probably find
-yourself treated badly by him if you accused him of publishing the book.
-'Tis Mr. Lowndes who is the guilty person.”
-
-“You will not put one to the humiliation of a journey to London all for
-a trumpery novel?”
-
-“Nay, not for a trumpery novel; but we were talking of 'Evelina.'”
-
-“I submit to the correction, my dear; and so now we are in perfect
-agreement, you will continue the story, if only to allay my sleepless
-speculations.”
-
-“I wonder how it will sound when read in the morning? I fear that it
-will be as dull as a play would seem in the garish light of day.”
-
-“Tell not that to me. There are novels of the morn as well as of
-the even, and I believe that the freshness of this one will be best
-appreciated in the brightness of such a morning as this. At any rate, we
-can but make a trial of it. If we find that it does not read well, you
-can lay it aside till the evening.”
-
-Fanny was delighted to find that he was as interested in her book as
-Susy had been; and the noon came and found her beginning the second
-volume to him, sitting by his side in the sunlight that bathed the
-little garden, and his attention never flagged. Once or twice, however,
-he grumbled, but her ear assured her that his grumble was not a critical
-one; it was only meant to censure the behaviour of the rude Captain
-Mervain.
-
-They were still in the garden when, shortly after noon, a chaise was
-heard in the lane: it appeared to be on its way to the house.
-
-“What! as I live 'tis mamma and my sisters come to pay us a visit,”
- cried Fanny, seeing a handkerchief waved to her from the window.
-
-“They shall be made welcome, for I cannot doubt that they have brought
-the third volume with them,” said Mr. Crisp, rising to receive his
-visitors.
-
-In this way the reading was interrupted, and indeed Fanny was rather
-glad of a respite. She had not risen from her chair since nine o'clock.
-A chance of stretching her limbs was very acceptable.
-
-Mrs. Burney and the girls had scarcely settled down to their cakes
-and sweet wine, after explaining that Dr. Burney had insisted on their
-taking this drive into the country, the day promised to be so fine, when
-Mr. Crisp turned to Susy, saying:
-
-“You wicked girl! What did you mean by sending us the two volumes of
-that vile novel to upset us poor country folk? And I hope you have not
-neglected to bring with you the third.” Poor Susy reddened and glanced
-at Fanny without trying to make any reply.
-
-“Eh, what is this?” cried the old man. “Do you mean to disclaim all
-responsibility for the act? Ah, 'tis too late for you to make such an
-attempt. The evil has been done. The poison has begun to work in our
-blood; and its effects can only be neutralized by the contents of the
-third volume. Say at once, I pray, if you have brought it.”
-
-“Do not trouble poor Susy with your tropes, sir,” said Fanny. “She
-cannot grasp your meaning, and only trusts that we have not gone mad. I
-suppose the road was as usual--half of it muddy and the rest dusty?”
-
-“I insist on hearing if the third volume is in the chaise,” said Mr.
-Crisp, firmly. “If it be not, then you may drive straight back to St.
-Martin's Street and return hither with it in time for Fannikin to read
-it to-night.”
-
-“Pray what book is it that you refer to, Mr. Crisp?” inquired Mrs.
-Burney.
-
-“What book, madam! As if there were more books than one printed this
-year! Why, Mrs. Burney, where have you been living all this time, that
-you have never heard of 'Evelina '?” cried he.
-
-“I have heard of little else save this 'Evelina' for some time past;
-but I have no time for reading novels, nor has any member of my family,”
- replied the lady.
-
-“I insisted on one member of your family finding the time yesterday
-and to-day, and the consequence is that she has gone through the first
-volume and part of the second since Susy was so obliging as to send
-them hither. I was in hopes that you had brought the third volume; but I
-perceive that we shall have to wait for it now.”
-
-Susy was examining very closely the pattern on her plate when Mrs.
-Burney turned to her, saying:
-
-“Does Mr. Crisp mean that you got that novel and sent it hither to
-Fanny?”
-
-“Only part of it--no more than two volumes,” said Susy quickly, as
-though anxious to submit extenuating circumstances to the notice of her
-stepmother.
-
-“Did you get it at Hill's library, or where?” inquired Mrs. Burney.
-
-“I did not get it at a library,” replied Susy slowly, as a reluctant
-witness might answer an incriminating question.
-
-“What, did you buy it? Did you spend your money on it?” cried Mrs.
-Burney, with a note of amazement not free from anxiety.
-
-“Oh, no; I did not buy it,” said Susy.
-
-“How did it come into your hands, then--tell me that?”
-
-“Cousin Edward brought it for Fanny.”
-
-“And you read the first two volumes and are now reading the third?”
-
-“Nay, mamma, 'tis I that was led by my curiosity,” said Lottie hastily.
-
-“Though you have often heard me protest against the vice of novel
-reading? I wonder at you, Lottie. I am shocked that you should so yield
-to a vulgar temptation,” said Mrs. Burney.
-
-“Nay, my dear madam, you must not talk of our dear 'Evelina' as if she
-were an everyday person,” said Mr. Crisp. “On the contrary, she is a
-most interesting young lady, and if I do not soon learn what happens
-to her now that she has formed some very dubious intimacies, I shall be
-inconsolable. Have you read the book, Mrs. Burney?”
-
-“Not I indeed,” replied Mrs. Burney, with more than a suggestion of
-indignation that such a charge should be brought against her. “I have
-heard enough about that book during the past month to prevent me from
-having any wish to read it, even if I were a novel reader, which I
-certainly deny. I am ashamed that any member of my household should so
-far forget her duty as to read such stuff.”
-
-“Come, come, my dear lady, you must remember that there are novels and
-novels,” said Mr. Crisp. “I have heard you praise Mr. Richardson, have I
-not?”
-
-“Mr. Richardson was a genius and a great moral writer, sir, as well.”
-
-“The two are not invariably associated. But what if I tell you that
-this new book is worthy of being placed between 'Clarissa Harlowe' and
-'Pamela'?”
-
-“You will not do so gross an injustice to the memory of a great man, I
-am sure. But, if you please, we will discuss this no longer. No matter
-what this 'Evelina' may be, the fact remains that I gave a command that
-our home should be free from the taint of novel reading, and my wishes
-have been secretly ignored. I should not wonder if Fanny had encouraged
-Edward to procure the book for her.”
-
-“I cannot deny it,” said Fanny in a low voice. “'Twas my doing
-altogether. All the blame should rest on my shoulders--yes, from the
-first--the very first--from the title page on to 'Finis.'”
-
-“And your delinquency has given me greater pleasure than I have derived
-from other people's rectitude,” said Mr. Crisp. Then he turned to Mrs.
-Burney.
-
-“Dear madam, you must forgive our Fannikin for her misdemeanour. If
-you had but read the book for yourself you would feel as I do on the
-subject. 'Tis the most fascinating story----”
-
-“That is, I hold, the worst of the matter,” said Mrs. Burney. “The more
-fascinating the novel, the more dangerous it is, and the greater reason
-there is why it should be excluded from every honest home. A dull story
-may do but little harm. One might reasonably tolerate it even among a
-household of young girls, but a clever one--a fascinating one, as you
-call this 'Evelina,' should never be allowed to cross the threshold.
-But, by your leave, sir, we will talk no more upon a question on which I
-know we shall never agree.”
-
-“That is the most satisfactory proposal that could be made,” said Mr.
-Crisp, bowing. “I will only add that since you are so fully sensible
-of the danger of a delightful book in your house, you will take prompt
-measures to prevent the baleful influence of 'Evelina' from pervading
-your home, by despatching the third volume to me without delay. The
-third volume of such a novel may in truth be likened to the match in
-the barrel of gunpowder: 'tis the most dangerous part of the whole. The
-first two volumes are like the gunpowder--comparatively innocent, but
-the moment the third volume is attached--phew! So you would do well
-not to delay in getting rid of such an inflammatory composition, Mrs.
-Burney.”
-
-“I promise you that you shall have it at once, sir,” said Mrs. Burney.
-“And I trust that you will not allow the first and second to return to
-my house. A barrel of gunpowder may be as innocent as you say, so long
-as the match is withheld, but still I have no intention of turning our
-home into a powder magazine.”
-
-That was the last reference made to “Evelina” while Mrs. Burney and the
-two girls remained at Chessington. They went away so as to be back
-in St. Martin's Street in time for dinner; but the moment they
-were together in the chaise Mrs. Burney burst out once more in her
-denunciation of the vice of novel reading. From her general treatment
-of the theme she proceeded--as the girls feared she would--to the
-particular instance of its practice which had just come under her
-notice. She administered to poor Susy a sound scolding for having
-received the book from her cousin Edward in secret, and another to poor
-Lottie for having ventured to read it without asking leave. The girls
-were soon reduced to tears, but not a word did they say in reply. They
-were loyal to their sister and her secret with which they had been
-entrusted. Not a word did either of them utter.
-
-The drive home on that lovely afternoon was a dreary one, especially
-after Mrs. Burney had said:
-
-“I fear that this duplicity has been going on for a long time in our
-house. Yes, I have noticed more than once an exchange of meaning glances
-between you and Fanny, and sometimes, too, when your cousin Edward was
-in the room. It seemed to me that you had some secret in common which
-you were determined to keep from me. I said nothing at that time, for
-though my suspicions were awakened, yet I thought it best to take the
-most favourable view of the matter, and I assumed that the secret--if
-there was a secret--was an innocent one--such as girls in a family may
-share among themselves about some trifling thing; but now I have no
-doubt that your glances and your winks and your elbowings had to do with
-the smuggling of books into the house for your surreptitious reading. I
-am ashamed of you. It hurts me deeply to find that, after all the care I
-have taken to preserve you in innocence of the world and its wickedness,
-you have been behaving with such duplicity. I shall, of course, think
-it my duty to let your father know what I have found out, and he may be
-able to suggest some means of preventing a repetition of such conduct.”
-
-The poor girls dared not even look at each other for mutual sympathy,
-lest such glances should be interpreted by their mother as a further
-attempt to pursue the scheme of duplicity with which she had charged
-them. They could only sit tearful and silent until they were once again
-in St. Martin's Street. They longed to rush upstairs together to their
-room and mingle their tears in a sisterly embrace before determining
-how they should meet their stepmother's charges in the presence of their
-father.
-
-But Mrs. Burney was too astute a strategist to permit them to consult
-together.
-
-“Is your master within?” she inquired of William, the man-servant, who
-opened the door for them.
-
-“He is in the library, madam, with Mrs. Esther,” replied the man.
-
-“So much the better,” said Mrs. Burney to the girls. “We shall go
-directly to him, and your sister Esther will be present.”
-
-She made them precede her to the room that was called the library. Dr.
-Burney and Hetty were laughing together across the table--the sound of
-their merriment had been heard by the girls before the door was opened.
-But at the portentous gravity of the entrance of Mrs. Burney her husband
-became grave.
-
-“You have returned early,” he said, “and--good heavens! you have been
-weeping--you do not bring bad news--Fanny has not had a relapse?”
-
-“Fanny is quite well; but I bring you bad news,” replied Mrs. Burney.
-“You will, I am sure, regard it as the worst possible news when I tell
-you that she, as well as her sisters here, have been guilty of the
-grossest disobedience--a conspiracy of disobedience, I may call it.”
-
-“I am amazed--and grieved,” said he. “But I can scarcely believe that,
-brought up as they have been----”
-
-“They do not deny it,” said she. “I only discovered by chance that, in
-defiance of our rule against novel reading, they been have trafficking
-with their cousin Edward to procure novels for their secret reading, and
-the latest they smuggled into the house is that one called 'Evelina'--I
-actually found Fanny reading the book to Mr. Crisp, and her sisters
-admitted----”
-
-“But what did Fanny admit?” he cried.
-
-“She admitted that Edward had procured the book at her request,” replied
-his wife. “Was not that enough?”
-
-“Not half enough--not a quarter enough, considering that it was Fanny
-who wrote 'Evelina' with her own hand and under our very noses without
-our suspecting it,” said Dr. Burney quietly.
-
-Mrs. Burney looked at him dumbly for more than a whole minute. There was
-silence in the room.
-
-Then she sat slowly down on the nearest chair, still keeping her eyes
-fixed upon him.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXXII
-
-|DOCTOR BURNEY sat for a long time staring at a point high above his
-wife's head. The eldest daughter, Hetty, standing at the other side of
-the writing-table, was radiant; her eyes were dancing. The two others
-were standing together--huddled together, it might be said, for they
-suggested a pair of lambs recently frightened--doubtful of what is going
-to happen next and feeling that the closer they are to each other the
-safer they will be.
-
-“Did you ever hear of anything so funny?” said Hetty, glancing around
-and still radiant.
-
-Her father got upon his feet.
-
-“And she was the only one that never had any attention,” said he, as if
-he had not heard Hetty's remark. “Fanny was left to make her own way as
-pleased her best--no one troubled about her education. She was left
-to pick up knowledge as best she could--the crumbs that fell from the
-others' table--that was how she picked up French when the others came
-back from school, and now she speaks it with the best of them... And
-so shy! Tell me, if you can, how she got her knowledge of things--the
-things in that book--the pictures red with life--the real life-blood of
-men and women--love--emotion--pathos--all that make up life--and don't
-forget the characterization--that's what seems to me all but miraculous.
-Hogarth--we all know that Hogarth drew his characters and fitted them
-into his pictures because he made it a point to walk among them and look
-at them with observant eyes; but tell me, if you can, what chance that
-child had of seeing anything; and yet she has filled her canvas, and
-every bit is made up of firm, true drawing. That is the chief wonder.”
-
-He spoke evidently under the impulse of a great excitement at first, not
-looking at anyone in particular--just skimming them all with his eyes
-as he paced the room. But he seemed gradually to recover himself as
-he talked, and he appeared to address his last words to his wife. This
-assisted her to recover herself also--a minute or so in advance of him.
-
-“You seem to be sure that Fanny wrote it,” she said, when he had done.
-“Is it fair to condemn her before you make sure?”
-
-Everyone looked at Mrs. Burney; but only her husband laughed.
-
-“Condemn her--condemn her for having written the finest novel since
-Fielding?” he said, with the laugh still on his face. There was no laugh
-on hers; on the contrary, its expression was more serious than ever.
-
-“A novel is a novel,” she said. “I told Mr. Crisp--but that was
-only about the reading of novels--the cleverer they are the more
-mischievous--dangerous--even the reading--I never dreamt of her going
-so far as to write one, clever or otherwise. But a novel is still a
-novel--she must have neglected her duties in the house, though I failed
-to observe it... and sending it to a bookseller without saying a word to
-us! Who would have believed that a young woman with her training--”
-
-“It flashed across me when I read the verses addressed to myself at the
-beginning that she had asked my permission some months ago, and that
-I had given it--I did so laughing at the poor child's credulousness in
-believing that any bookseller would print it for her and pay her for the
-privilege--the privilege of making a thousand pounds out of her book.”
-
-“What! are you serious?--a thousand pounds, did you say?”
-
-“Mr. Lowndes will make more than a thousand pounds by the sale of the
-book--Hetty tells me that he only paid Fanny twenty for it.”
-
-“What is the world coming to--a fortune in a single book! And we talked
-about her being portionless, when all the time she was more richly
-endowed than all the rest of the family; for if she has written one
-book, she can certainly write another equally remunerative. 'Perhaps she
-has another ready for the printers.”
-
-Mrs. Burney was blessed with the capacity to look at matters,
-however artistic they might be, from the standpoint of the practical
-housekeeper. The mention of so sonorous a sum as a thousand pounds
-caused the scales of prejudice to fall from the eyes through which she
-had regarded the act of authorship, and at that instant she perceived
-that it should not be thought of as a delinquency but as a merit.
-
-And, after all, it appeared that the girl had obtained the permission of
-her father to print it--that put quite a different complexion upon the
-transaction, did it not?
-
-And a thousand pounds--that appealed to the good sense of a practical
-person and swept away the last cobweb of prejudice that she had had
-respecting novels and their writers.
-
-“Has she another book written, think you?” she inquired in a tone full
-of interest. “Of course we shall see that she gets a better share of Mr.
-Lowndes' thousand pounds than she did for her first.”
-
-“She has not written a line since 'Evelina,'” said Esther. “To be sure,
-I have not been her _confidante_ since I got married, but I know that
-she was so frightened at the thought of what she had done that she would
-not write another page.”
-
-“Frightened! What had she to be frightened about?” cried Mrs. Burney in
-a tone of actual amazement.
-
-“Goodness knows,” said Esther with a laugh.
-
-The sound of the dinner-bell coming at that moment had about it also
-something of the quality of a long, loud, sonorous outburst of laughter
-with a cynical tinkle at the last.
-
-The group in that room dissolved in all directions with exclamations of
-dismay at being overtaken by the dinner-hour so unprepared.
-
-“It is all over now,” said Susy to Lottie, when they were alone in their
-room. “I was afraid when she ushered us so formally into the library
-that we would be forced to tell our secret.”
-
-“I made up my mind that no torture of the rack or wild horses would
-unseal my lips,” said Susy, earnestly. “Do you know, Lottie, I feel
-quite lonely without our secret.”
-
-“It is just the same with me, dear,” said Lottie. “I feel as if I were
-suddenly cut off from some great interest in life--as if I had gone
-downstairs one morning and found that someone had stolen the piano. I
-wonder if it was Hetty who told the padre.”
-
-“Make haste and we shall soon learn all,” said Susy.
-
-Before they had finished dinner they learned from their father how he
-had got to the bottom of the secret that they had so cherished.
-
-He had gone as usual to give a music lesson to Queenie Thrale, and when
-partaking of some refreshment before setting out for London, Mrs. Thrale
-had talked to him in terms of the highest praise of “Evelina.” She had
-read the book twice over, she told him, and had lent it to Dr. Johnson,
-who could talk of nothing else. Then Mrs. Cholmondeley had arrived on a
-visit to Thrale Hall, and she, too, was full of praise of the book. She,
-too, had lent her copy to someone else--to no less important a person
-than Mr. Edmund Burke, and he had declared himself as greatly captivated
-by it as his friend Sir Joshua Reynolds had been. Everybody was
-talking about it, and the question of the authorship had been as widely
-discussed as before; Mrs. Cholmondeley had declared that she would give
-twenty guineas to find out for certain who it was that had written the
-book.
-
-Mrs. Thrale had thereupon suggested that Dr. Burney was in a better
-position than most people for solving the mystery, going about as he was
-from one part of the town to another and being in close touch with all
-manner of people.
-
-“But I had not, as you know, so much as read the book for myself--I
-seemed to be the only one in town who had not done so--and on getting
-home I sent William post haste to Mr. Lowndes to purchase a set. This
-done, I sat down to peruse the first volume. The page opened on the Ode;
-it lay beneath my eyes, and I tell you truly that I did not seem to read
-it: I seemed to hear Fanny's voice reading the verses in my ear, and
-the truth came upon me in a flash--incredible though it appeared, I knew
-that it was she who had written the book. Hetty came in before my eyes
-were dry--she saw the volume in my hand, and she understood all. 'You
-know,' was all that she said. I think that the greatest marvel was the
-keeping of the secret of the book! To think of its being known to four
-girls and never becoming too great for them to bear!”
-
-He was appealing to his wife, but she only nodded a cold acquiescence in
-his surprise. She remained silent, however, and this was something to be
-grateful for, the girls thought: they knew just what she was thinking,
-and they also knew that if they had some little trouble in keeping their
-secret, she had very much more in restraining herself from uttering some
-comment upon their reticence--their culpable reticence, she would
-think it. They could see that she was greatly displeased at having been
-excluded from their secret, since such an exclusion had forced her into
-a false position more than once--notably in the presence of Mr. Crisp,
-when she had become the assailant of novels and novel reading generally,
-and also when she had scolded them on their return in the chaise. But
-they were good girls, and they were ready to allow that they were in the
-wrong, even though they did not think so: that is what really good girls
-do in their desire for peace in their homes. And Lottie and Susy made
-up their minds that should their stepmother tax them with double-dealing
-and deceit, they would not try to defend themselves. The reflection that
-they had kept their sister's secret would more than compensate them for
-any possible humiliation they might suffer at Mrs. Burney's hands.
-
-All that Mrs. Burney said at the conclusion of her husband's further
-rhapsody about the marvel of Fanny's achievement, considering how she
-had been generally thought the dunce of the family, was comprised in a
-few phrases uttered in a hurt tone:
-
-“While no one is more pleased than myself to witness her success, I
-cannot but feel that she would have shown herself possessed of a higher
-sense of her duty as a daughter if she had consulted her father or his
-wife in the matter,” she said.
-
-“That may be true enough,” said Dr. Burney; “but if she had done so,
-would she have achieved her purpose any more fully than she has, I ask
-you? No, my dear, I do not feel, with any measure of certainty, that I
-would have gone far in my encouragement of her efforts, nor do I think
-that you would have felt it consistent with your principles to do so.”
-
-“I was only referring to the question of a simple girl's duty in regard
-to her parents,” said Mrs. Burney.
-
-“And your judgment on that point is, I am certain, unassailable,” said
-he. “But here we have a girl who is no simple girl, but a genius; and
-I think that a good deal of latitude should be allowed to a genius--a
-little departure from the hard and fast line of the duties expected from
-a simple girl may be permitted in such a one as Fanny.”
-
-“Well, she has succeeded in her aims--so much is plain,” said Mrs.
-Burney. “But I hope that should any of her sisters set about a similar
-enterprise----”
-
-But the ringing laughter that came from the sisters, their father
-joining in with great heartiness, saved the need for her to complete
-her sentence. At first she felt hurt, but she quickly yielded to the
-exuberant spirit that pervaded the atmosphere of the room, and smiled
-indulgently, after the manner of a staid elderly lady who is compelled
-to take part in the romp of her girls and boys at Christmas time.
-
-She continued smiling, and the others continued laughing, and this
-spirit of good humour was maintained until bedtime.
-
-The girls knew that they would not be scolded for their participation
-in Fanny's secret; for Fanny by her success had justified any amount of
-double-dealing. If Fanny had made a fool of herself they would feel
-that they deserved to participate in her scolding; but success is easily
-pardoned, and so they rightly counted upon a general amnesty. What was
-it that their father had said about a thousand pounds?
-
-They went to bed quite happy, in spite of being deprived of the fearful
-joy of having a secret to keep.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXXIII
-
-|DR. BURNEY had given instructions that Fanny was not to be communicated
-with at Chessington until he had seen her; but that the third volume
-of the book was to be sent to Mr. Crisp without delay. He was to go to
-Streatham again in two days' time, and thence to Chessington, where he
-would make Mr. Crisp aware of the identity of the writer of “Evelina.”
-
-He anticipated an interesting hour with Mr. Crisp, but a very much more
-interesting half-hour with Mrs. Thrale; for he meant, of course, to lose
-no time in letting that lady into the secret: he knew that she would
-make the most of the information he could impart to her; to be the first
-to learn what all her friends were striving to learn would at once place
-her above Mrs. Cholmondeley, who was willing to pay twenty guineas for
-the knowledge, and even Mrs. Montagu, who was inclined to patronize
-Mrs. Thrale and a good many other ladies, in spite of the fact that Dr.
-Johnson dined usually five days out of every week with Mrs. Thrale,
-but had only dined once with Mrs. Montagu since she had gone to her new
-house.
-
-Dr. Burney was well aware how valuable the Thrale connection was to him;
-a teacher of music is apt to look with sparkling eyes at a houseful of
-girls whose father possesses the possibilities of such wealth as was
-defined by Dr. Johnson in this particular case as beyond the dreams
-of avarice. Dr. Burney had a very nice judgment on the subject of an
-influential connection, and so was delighted to have a chance of doing
-a signal good turn to so deserving a patroness as Mrs. Thrale. Yes,
-he felt sure that his half-hour at Streatham Hall would be the
-most interesting of the many half-hours he had spent under the same
-hospitable roof.
-
-And he was not mistaken in his surmise.
-
-Mrs. Thrale had, as usual, several friends coming to partake of an early
-repast with her; and Dr. Burney had pictured to himself the effect of
-his announcement to the company that his daughter had written the book
-upon which he was pretty sure the conversation would turn--indeed, he
-felt that he would be greatly surprised if the conversation did not
-immediately rush to the question of “Evelina” and remain there for the
-rest of the afternoon; for the enterprising ladies would doubtless
-bring with them some fresh suggestions or new cues to its authorship.
-He pictured himself allowing them to go on for some time until perhaps a
-statement would be made which he should have to contradict point-blank.
-They would all look at him in surprise. What did he know about the
-matter? Was he interested in the question? Had he found out anything?
-
-How he would smile while saying quietly:
-
-“Well, I am more or less interested in the matter, the fact being that
-'Evelina' is the work of my daughter, Fanny Burney!”
-
-That would be, he thought, a fitting moment in which to divulge the
-secret; he saw the whole scene clearly before him.
-
-But before he had reached his destination that intuition of what would
-commend itself to a patron which had been so important an auxiliary to
-his ability in placing him above his rivals in his profession, overcame
-his desire to play the most important part in a dramatic scene; he
-perceived that such a rôle should be taken by an influential patroness,
-and not by himself. Thus it was that when Mrs. Thrale was giving him a
-cup of chocolate after his journey he smiled, saying:
-
-“I was greatly interested in the conversation between Mrs. Cholmondeley
-and the other ladies when I was last here.”
-
-“About 'Evelina'?” she inquired. “Ah, I wonder if Mrs. Cholmondeley has
-yet paid over her twenty guineas to the discoverer of the author. It
-seems that he has as arduous a task in regard to 'Evelina' as Raleigh
-had in regard to his El Dorado.”
-
-“So it would appear,” said Dr. Burney. “Let us hope that his efforts
-will be more highly valued than those of poor Sir Walter. Have you
-yourself no suspicions on the subject, madam?”
-
-“Oh, suspicions? There have been as many suspicions set going on this
-subject within the month as would be entertained only by the most
-imaginative Bow Street runner. For my own part, I maintain that the book
-could only have been writ by our friend Horace Walpole. He found that
-his 'Otranto' excited so much curiosity when published without a name,
-he came to the conclusion that he would produce another novel with
-the same amount of mystery attached to it. The only point against this
-assumption is that----”
-
-“That the book was assuredly written by another person,” said Burney,
-smiling in a way that he designed to be somewhat enigmatical.
-
-Mrs. Thrale tried to interpret his smile.
-
-“What!” she exclaimed, “you have formed another theory--you--you have
-heard something since you were last here?”
-
-“Not something, madam--not a mere something, but everything--everything
-that is to be known regarding the writer of that book.”
-
-“Is't possible? Who is your informant?--the value of all that you have
-heard is dependent upon the accuracy of your informant.”
-
-“The book was written by the person whom I fancied I knew best of all
-the people in the world, and yet the last person whom I would believe
-capable of such a feat. The author of the book--I am the author of her
-being--she is none other than my daughter Fanny.”
-
-Mrs. Thrale sat staring at him, one arm resting upon the table, her lips
-parted as if about to utter an exclamation of surprise, but unable to do
-so by reason of her surprise.
-
-More than a minute had passed before she was able to speak, and then she
-could do no more than repeat his words.
-
-“Your daughter Fanny--your daughter--but is not Fanny the little shy
-one that goes into a corner when you have company?” she asked, in a
-tone that suggested that she had heard something too ridiculous to be
-believed.
-
-“She is that one, madam,” he replied. “It would seem as if the corner
-of a room has its advantages in enabling one to observe life from a
-true standpoint. Two eyes looking out from a corner with a brain behind
-them--there you have the true writer of a novel of life and character.
-Poor Fanny! How often have not I talked of her as 'poor Fanny'? She had
-no education except what she contrived to pick up haphazard--a sweet
-child--a lovable daughter, but the last person in the world to be
-suspected of such a book as 'Evelina.'”
-
-“You are sure, sir--you have seen--heard--you know?”
-
-“Beyond any doubt. Her sisters were let into the secret, but neither
-of her parents. I know now why that was--no want of duty--no lack of
-respect--she began the book for her own amusement, and it grew under
-her hand; she sent it to a bookseller, more as a jest than in the belief
-that anything would come of it, and up to the last it was treated by
-her and her sisters as a schoolroom mystery--a nursery secret--and
-Mrs. Burney and I were kept out of it solely because we were not of the
-nursery or the schoolroom. And when it became a serious matter we were
-excluded because they were afraid to reveal it to us--Fanny herself,
-dear child!--feared that we would be concerned if it were stillborn. It
-was only when it was at the point of being published by Mr. Lowndes that
-she came to me saying that she had been writing something and wanted
-my leave to send it forth, promising that no name would appear upon the
-title page. I gave my leave with a smile, and when I had my laugh at the
-innocence of the girl in fancying that any bookseller would pay for the
-printing of what she might scribble, I forgot all about the matter. It
-was only when I sent for the book and read the Ode addressed to myself
-that I seemed to hear Fanny's voice speaking the words in my ear--I told
-the others so when they returned from visiting her at Chessington. But
-meantime Esther had come to me, and she told me all that was known to
-her about the book and its secret.”
-
-“The most wonderful story ever known--more wonderful than the story of
-Evelina herself!” cried Mrs. Thrale. “How people--Mrs. Cholmondeley and
-the rest--will lift up their hands! Who among them will believe it all
-possible? List, my dear doctor, you must bring her to me in the first
-instance--all the others will be clamouring for her to visit them--I
-know them! You must bring her to me without delay--why not to-day? I can
-easily send a chaise for her--a coach if necessary. Well, if not to-day,
-to-morrow. I must have her here. We will understand each other--she and
-I; and Dr. Johnson will be with us--quite a little company--for dinner.
-You will promise me?”
-
-“Be assured, dear madam, that there is no house apart from her home
-where I feel she would be happier than in this,” said Dr. Burney. “She
-has often expressed the warmest admiration for you, and I know that her
-dearest wish is to be on terms of intimacy with you.”
-
-“The sweet girl! she shall have her dearest wish gratified to the
-fullest extent, sir. You will bring her as early to-morrow as it suits
-you. Good heavens! to think of that dear retiring child taking the town
-by storm! Dr. Johnson wrote to me no later than last evening, expressing
-once more his delight in reading the book, and Mr. Burke, too--but you
-heard about Mr. Burke. I will never forget your courtesy in telling me
-first of all your friends that she was the author, dear doctor.”
-
-“If not you, madam, whom would I have told?”
-
-“I shall be ever grateful. You will give me leave to make the revelation
-to my friends who will be here to-day?”
-
-“It is open for you to tell them all that I have told you, my dear
-madam; and you may truthfully add that if the writing of the book will
-bring her into closer intimacy with Mrs. Thrale, the author will feel
-that it has not been written in vain.”
-
-He made his lowest bow on rising from the table to receive his pupil,
-who entered the room at that moment.
-
-He had confidence that he was right in his intuition that his patroness
-would act with good effect the rôle which he had relinquished in
-her favour, when her friends would arrive in another hour for their
-“collation;” and he was ready to allow that none could have played the
-part more neatly than she did when the time came to prove how much
-better-informed she was than the rest of the world. She might have been
-possessed of the knowledge that Miss Burney was the writer of “Evelina”
- from the first, from the easy and natural way in which she said:
-
-“Pray do not trouble yourselves telling me what Mrs. Cholmondeley said
-to Mr. Lowndes, or what Mr. Lowndes said to someone else about the
-writer of the novel; for it happens that I know, and have known for--for
-some time the name of the author.”
-
-There were a few little exclamations of surprise, and a very pretty
-uplifting of several pairs of jewelled hands at this calm announcement.
-
-“Oh, yes,” she continued, “the writer is a friend of my own, and the
-daughter of one of my most valued friends, and if any people talk to you
-in future of 'Evelina' being the work of Mr. Walpole or Mr. Anstey or
-any man of letters, pay no attention to these astute investigators, but
-tell them that I said the book is the work of Miss Fanny Burney, one of
-the daughters of the celebrated Dr. Charles Burney, himself the author
-of a 'History of Music' that will live so long as the English language
-has a literature of its own.”
-
-Mrs. Thrale did it all with amazing neatness, Dr. Burney thought; and
-the attempt that she made to conceal the expression of triumph in the
-glance that she gave to her guests let him know that his tact had been
-exercised in the right direction. Mrs. Thrale was not the woman to
-forget that he had given her such a chance of proving to her friends how
-intimate was her association with the literary history of the day. She
-had been for several years the patroness of Dr. Johnson, who had written
-the best dictionary, and now she was about to take under her protection
-Miss Burney, who had written the best novel. He knew that Mrs. Thrale
-was almost as glad to be able to reveal the secret of “Evelina” as if
-she had written the book herself.
-
-And everyone else at the table felt that Mrs. Thrale was indeed an
-amazingly clever woman; and wondered how Mrs. Cholmondeley would feel
-when she had learned that she had been forestalled in her quest after
-the information on which she had placed a value of twenty guineas.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXXIV
-
-|IT had all come to her now. She had had her dreams from time to time
-when working at her novel--dreams of recognition--of being received on
-terms of equality by some of the lesser literary people who had visited
-the house in St. Martin's Street, and had gone away praising the musical
-talents of her sisters, but leaving her unnoticed. Her aspirations had
-been humble, but it seemed to her so stupid to be stupid in the midst of
-a brilliant household, that she longed to be able to do something that
-would, at least, cause their visitors of distinction to glance into her
-corner and recognize her name when it was spoken in their hearing.
-That was all she longed for at first--to be recognized as “the one who
-writes,” as people recognized “the one who plays.” But since Signor
-Rauzzini had come upon the scene her ambitions had widened. She dreamt
-not merely of recognition, but of distinction, so that he might be proud
-of her, and that she might not merely be spoken of as the wife of the
-Roman singer. That dream of hers had invariably been followed by a
-feeling of depression as she reflected upon the improbability of its
-ever being realized, and if it should not be realized, all hope of
-happiness would pass from her life. Thus it was that for some months she
-had lived with the cold finger of despair constantly pressing upon her
-heart. She was so practical--so reasonable--that she could never yield
-herself up to the fascination of the Fool's Paradise of dreams; she was
-ready to estimate her chances of literary success, and the result of
-the operation was depressing. How could any young woman who had seen so
-little of life, and who had been so imperfectly educated, have any hope
-to be received as a writer of distinction? What claim to distinction
-could such a girl as she advance in the face of the competition that was
-going on around her in every branch of distinctive work?
-
-For some months her good sense and her clear head were her greatest
-enemies; evermore bringing her back to the logic of a life in which
-everything is represented by figures, from a great artistic success to
-a butcher's bill--a life in which dreams play a part of no greater
-significance than the splendid colours clinging about the West in the
-unalterable routine of the setting sun.
-
-Many times she had awakened in the night to weep as she felt the
-bitterness of defeat; for her book had been given to the world and the
-world had received it as the sea receives a stone that is flung upon its
-surface. That simile of the stone and the sea was constantly recurring
-to her, and every time she saw that it was weak--that it fell short of
-meeting her case, for her book had made no stir whatsoever in the world,
-whereas a stone, however small it might be, could not be given to the
-sea without creating some stir on the surface of the waters.
-
-And then, quite unexpectedly, had come a whisper from the world to tell
-her that her book had not been submerged: the whisper had increased in
-volume until it had sounded in her ears like a shout of acclamation,
-telling her that the reality had far surpassed her most sanguine dreams,
-and that common-sense reasoning is sometimes farther astray in its
-operation than are the promptings of the most unreasonable ambition.
-
-These were her rose-tinted reflections while driving with her father
-from Chessington to Streatham, a journey which represented to her the
-passing from obscurity to distinction, the crossing of the Jordan and
-the entering into the Land of Promise.
-
-Fanny Burney has herself told the story of her father's coming to her
-at Chessington, and of her dear old friend's reception of the marvellous
-news that Dr. Burney brought to him--of the phrases which she
-overheard while the two men were in a room together--the incredulous
-exclamations--“Wonderful--it's wonderful!”--“Why, she has had very
-little education but what she has given herself--less than any of the
-others”--“The variety of characters--the variety of scenes, and the
-language”--“Wonderful!” And then Mr. Crisp's meeting her, catching her
-by the hands as she was going in to supper, and crying, “Why, you little
-hussy, ain't you ashamed to look me in the face you--you 'Evelina,' you!
-Why, what a dance you have led me about it!” Miss Burney has brought the
-scene vividly before our eyes in her Diary.
-
-It was one of the happiest days of her life; she saw the pride with
-which her father regarded her, for Dr. Burney was a practical man
-who valued achievement as it deserved, and was, besides, the best of
-fathers, and the most anxious to advance the interests of his children.
-He looked with pride upon his daughter, and talked of her having made
-Mr. Lowndes a wealthy man. His estimate of her earning powers had
-increased: he now declared that even if Lowndes had paid a thousand
-pounds for the book, his profits off it would enable him to buy an
-estate!
-
-It was the happiest evening of her life; and now she was in the chaise
-with her beloved father, driving to Streatham, where they were to
-dine, and Dr. Johnson was to be of the party. This meant more than
-recognition, it meant the Land of Promise of her ambitious dreams.
-
-She had many matters to reflect upon at this time, but all her
-reflections led to the one point--her next meeting with Rauzzini. The
-truth that had been revealed to her among Sir Joshua Reynolds' superb
-canvases, that love was more than all else that the world could give
-her, remained before her, as a luminous fixed star, to be a guide to her
-life; and the happiness that she now felt was due to the thought that
-she could go to the man whom she loved, without a misgiving, without
-fearing that he would hear those dreaded voices of the world saying that
-he had been a fool to ally himself with a nonentity, or that she would
-hear the whispers of those who might suggest that she had done very well
-for herself. She had long before made her resolution only to go to him
-when she could do so on terms of equality. At that time her resolution
-seemed to shut her out from all chances of happiness; she knew this, but
-at the same time she believed that it would shut both of them out from
-every chance of unhappiness; and so she had allowed it to dominate her
-life.
-
-That was where her common-sense and her reasonableness had their way,
-prevailing over that blind impulse which she now and again had, to trust
-to chance--and love--to overcome every other consideration, and to give
-her lover and herself happiness solely by being together. It was such
-impulses as this that caused love to be referred to as blind. But she
-was now ready to thank heaven for having given her strength to overcome
-it and so to give the victory to reason and good sense.
-
-She made up her mind to write to him before she slept that very night,
-telling him what her resolution had been--he had called it a mystery,
-not knowing anything about it--and asking him to rejoice with her that
-she had been able to maintain it, so that the barrier which she had seen
-between them was now swept away.
-
-“Come to me--come to me”--that would be the burden of her letter to him;
-she would send it to him and he would come.
-
-The thought made her lean back among the cushions of the chaise and shut
-her eyes, the better to enclose the vision of happiness that came from
-her heart. He would come to her and her happiness would be complete.
-
-So she arrived with her father at Thrale Hall and was welcomed by Mrs.
-Thrale in the porch. When she had made her toilet for dinner she was
-shown into the drawing-room. As she entered, she was conscious of the
-presence of several men, and the one nearest to her was, she saw, Signor
-Rauzzini.
-
-All the men in the room were looking toward her except Rauzzini. He was
-standing by the side of a small table, presenting his profile to her,
-and his eyes were gazing across the room at a picture that hung between
-the windows, a frown on his face.
-
-She was startled, and the blood rushed to her cheeks. It would have done
-so on her entering the room, even if she had not been surprised to see
-her lover there when she believed him to be still in France.
-
-She had stopped before reaching the middle of the room, and then she
-was hidden from the view of everybody by a huge mass of manhood in the
-person of Dr. Johnson. He seemed inclined to embrace her; and as he
-swung himself close to her, there was no one in the room that had not a
-moment of trepidation lest he should fall over her and crush her flat.
-
-Mrs. Thrale tripped alongside Fanny, as if ready to die with her.
-
-“Oh, come, Dr. Johnson,” she cried. “I have no intention of allowing
-you to monopolize Miss Burney, for that I perceive is your desire. The
-gentlemen must be presented to her in proper form.”
-
-“Madam,” said he, “I understood clearly that Miss Burney was coming
-hither for myself alone, and I have no mind to share so precious a
-morsel with others. Miss Burney and I are old friends, give me leave to
-say; I have more than once been interested in a book in the room where
-she was sitting in her father's house. Come to my arms, Miss Burney, and
-we shall laugh together at the jealous glances the others cast at me.”
-
-“Miss Burney will sit beside you at dinner, sir, and that must suffice
-you for the present,” said Mrs. Thrale, taking Fanny by the hand.
-
-But Johnson had succeeded, after more than one ineffectual attempt, in
-grasping Miss Burney's left hand, and in his ponderous playfulness, he
-refused to relinquish it, so that she had to make her curtsies to the
-gentlemen with Mrs. Thrale on one side of her and Johnson on the other.
-There was Mr. Seward and Sir Joshua Reynolds, and two others besides
-Signor Rauzzini. Each of them had a compliment to offer her, and did so
-very pleasantly and with great tact.
-
-“Now that is done, Miss Burney and I can sit together on the sofa, and
-she will tell me why she loves the Scotch and I will scold her for it,”
- said Johnson complacently.
-
-“Nay, sir, Miss Burney has not yet greeted Signor Rauzzini,” said Mrs.
-Thrale. “You and Miss Burney are already acquainted, I know, Signor
-Rauzzini, though you did fancy that she was one of the musical girls of
-St. Martin's Street.”
-
-Rauzzini took a single step away from the table at which he had remained
-immovable, and bowed low, without speaking a word.
-
-Fanny responded. They were separated by at least three yards.
-
-“Dinner is on the table, sir,” announced a servant from the door.
-
-“I am not sorry,” said Johnson. “Mrs. Thrale gave me a solemn promise
-that Miss Burney should sit next to me. That was why I kept my eye on
-Miss Burney.”
-
-“And hand too, sir,” remarked Mr. Seward.
-
-“Why, yes, sir, and hand too, if you insist,” said Johnson. “And let me
-tell you, sir, that a Lichfield man will keep his hand on anything he
-wishes to retain when another Lichfield man is in the same room.”
-
-His laughter set the ornaments on the mantelpiece a-jingling.
-
-And they went in to dinner before the echoes had died away.
-
-Mrs. Thrale kept her promise, and Fanny was placed next to Johnson. But
-even then he did not let go her hand. He held it in one of his own and
-patted it gently with the other. Fanny glanced down the table and saw
-that the eyes of the young Roman were looking in her direction, and that
-they were flaming. What could he mean, she wondered. She had been at
-first amazed at his bearing toward her in the drawing-room; but after
-a moment's thought, she had supposed that he had assumed that distant
-manner to prevent anyone from suspecting the intimacy there was between
-them. But what could that angry look in his eyes portend? Was it
-possible that he could be jealous of Dr. Johnson's awkward attention to
-her?
-
-She was greatly troubled.
-
-But if he had, indeed, resented Johnson's attention to her, such a plea
-was no longer valid after the first dish had been served, for in an
-instant Johnson's attention was transferred, with increased force, to
-the plate before him, and during the solid part of the meal, at least,
-it was never turned in any other direction. Poor Fanny had never seen
-him eat, nor had she the same privilege in respect of Mr. Thrale. But
-she needed all the encouragement that her hostess could afford her to
-enable her to make even the most moderate meal while such distractions
-were in her immediate neighbourhood; and she came to the conclusion that
-she had been ridiculously fastidious over the prodigious tea and its
-service at Mr. Barlowe's in the Poultry.
-
-But Mrs. Thrale was as tactful and as chatty as ever, and Mr. Seward
-made pleasant conversation for her, sitting, as he did, on the other
-side from Johnson. When Johnson was eating, his fellow guests understood
-that their chance was come to express their views without a dread of
-being contradicted by him.
-
-But from the feebleness of her contribution to the chat of the table,
-Mrs. Thrale as well as Mr. Seward perceived that all they had been told
-about the timidity of little Miss Burney was even less than the truth.
-
-But for that matter, Signor Rauzzini, who had been placed between Mrs.
-Thrale and Dr. Burney, was found by both of them to be also singularly
-averse from joining in the conversation, whether in reply to Burney, who
-addressed him in Italian, or to his hostess, who spoke French to him.
-
-As Mrs. Thrale talked a good deal herself, however, she rose with an
-impression that there had been no especial lack of brilliancy at the
-table.
-
-She took Fanny away with her, her determination being that if she should
-fail to draw this shy young creature out of her shell, she would at any
-rate convince her that her hostess was deserving of the reputation
-which she enjoyed for learning, combined with vivacity, so that their
-companionship could not be otherwise than profitable after all.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXXV
-
-|IT was not yet six o'clock and the sun was not due to set for more than
-another hour. The evening was a lovely one. From the shrubberies around
-the house came the liquid notes of countless blackbirds and thrushes,
-and above the trees of the park the cawing of the rooks as they wheeled
-above their nests and settled upon the branches.
-
-“We shall sit on the terrace for half an hour, if you have a mind
-to,” said Mrs. Thrale, taking Fanny through the drawing-room into a
-smaller room that opened upon a long terrace above the beds of the
-flower-garden. Here were several seats and a small table bearing writing
-materials.
-
-“Here I do most of my correspondence in the summer,” said Mrs. Thrale.
-“Sitting at that table in the open air, I have few distractions, unless
-I choose to accept the birds as such; and here I hope you will begin
-a new novel, or better still, a comedy that Mr. Sheridan will produce,
-with Mrs. Abington in her most charming gowns--you must give your
-namesake a chance of wearing a whole trunkful of gowns.” They seated
-themselves, and Mrs. Thrale continued:
-
-“Now I have confided in you how I do my simple work, and I wish to hear
-from you by what means you found time to write your novel. That is the
-greatest secret of all associated with 'Evelina'--so your father thinks.
-Mrs. Burney I always knew as a model housekeeper--a model manager of a
-family, and how you could contrive to write a single page without her
-knowledge is what baffles me as well as your father.”
-
-“To tell you all would, I fear, be to confess to a lifetime of
-duplicity,” said Fanny. “I am sometimes shocked now when I reflect upon
-my double-dealing.”
-
-“Tell me how you first came to stray from the paths of virtue--such a
-story is invariably interesting,” said Mrs. Thrale.
-
-“My story is like all the others,” replied Fanny. “I only meant to turn
-aside a little way, but soon I lost myself and I knew that there was no
-retracing my steps.”
-
-“Alas, alas, the old story!” said Mrs. Thrale, with a long-drawn sigh.
-“Well, happily, you were not able to retrace your steps.”
-
-“I had no idea that the story would grow upon me as it did,” said Fanny.
-“I really only meant it to be a diversion for our dear friend, Mr.
-Crisp, and an exercise for myself. I wrote a scrap now and again at odd
-moments--when I was supposed to be writing to Mr. Crisp, or copying out
-my father's notes for his History, at home as well as at Ches-sington,
-and when I was staying at Lynn; and so the thing grew and grew until I
-was afraid to look at what I had perpetrated.”
-
-“You are paraphrasing _Macbeth_, my dear: 'I am afeared to think what I
-have done: Look on't again I dare not,'” said the elder lady. “But with
-all you were able to prepare your father's great work for the press--he
-told me as much; so that what your double-dealing comes to is that you
-did his writing as well as your own, and at the same time neglected none
-of your ordinary household duties--if you had done so Mrs. Burney would
-have informed you of it, I have no doubt. An excellent housewife, Mrs.
-Burney! And now you shall tell me how you contrived to bring together so
-marvellous a group of characters--you who have lived so short a time in
-the world, and had so small an amount of experience.”
-
-“I should like someone to answer that question for me,” said Fanny. “It
-was not until I read the book in print that I began to be surprised at
-it, and to wonder how it came to be written and how those characters had
-found their way into it.”
-
-But this question was too interesting a one not to be pursued by Mrs.
-Thrale; and for half an hour she put inquiry after inquiry to Fanny
-respecting the characters, the incidents and the language of “Evelina.”
- Mrs. Thrale was certainly determined to place herself in a position to
-prove to her friends that Miss Burney had made a _confidante_ of her in
-all matters, down to the smallest detail of the book.
-
-In ordinary circumstances Fanny would have been delighted to give
-her her confidence in regard to these particulars--she had always a
-childlike pleasure in talking about her books--but at this time she only
-did so with a great effort. For while Mrs. Thrale was plying her with
-questions about “Evelina,” there was ever before Fanny the unanswered
-question as to what Rauzzini meant by his coldness and formality both
-before dinner and during that meal. What did he mean by looking at her
-with that reproachful frown upon his face? What did he mean by averting
-his eyes from her when he had a chance of exchanging confidences with
-her, as he had often done before? What did he mean by sitting at the
-table without addressing a single word to her?
-
-These were the questions which she was struggling in vain to answer to
-her own satisfaction all the time that Mrs. Thrale was putting
-inquiry after inquiry to her upon a matter that Fanny now regarded as
-insignificant compared with the one that she was trying to answer for
-herself.
-
-Mrs. Thrale was just beginning a series of questions on the subject of
-the comedy which she meant Miss Burney to write, when a servant appeared
-with a message for the former.
-
-“Tiresome!” exclaimed Fanny's hostess, rising. “Here is some
-insignificant household matter that can only be dealt with by the
-mistress--summer frocks for two girls: the carrier has brought some
-boxes--the summer has come upon us before spring has prepared us for
-its arrival, and there has been a despairing cry heard in the nursery.
-I need not excuse myself to you, Miss Burney. You will spare me for ten
-minutes.”
-
-Miss Burney hoped that the feeling of relief of which she was conscious
-did not show itself on her face, when she expressed the hope that Mrs.
-Thrale would not think of her; she would be quite happy with the birds.
-
-“And the comedy--do not forget the comedy.”
-
-Miss Burney laughed, but before her hostess had reached the door leading
-off the terrace, she was once more immersed in that question:
-
-“What does he mean by his change of attitude in regard to me?”
-
-It was serious--so much she knew. He had heard something that had caused
-him to change. But what could he have heard? What manner of man was he
-that would allow himself to be so influenced by anything that he might
-hear against her, without first coming to her for an explanation?
-
-Her mind went back to the evening when they had first met. It was in St.
-Martin's Street. He was there on the invitation of Dr. Burney: but it
-seemed that he had become conscious of a sympathy existing between her
-and himself, for he had remained by her side for a full hour while the
-others in the room were singing and playing on the piano, and he had
-held her hand at parting, expressing the hope, which his eyes confirmed,
-that they would soon meet again.
-
-And they had met again and again until one evening they found themselves
-alone in an anteroom to the apartment where a musical programme
-was being performed at a great house. Then he had told her that his
-happiness depended on her returning the love which he bore her; and
-startled though she had been, yet when he took her hand all her shyness
-seemed to vanish and she confessed....
-
-A sound behind her only served to make her memory seem more vivid, for
-it was his voice that reached her ear and it was singing the same aria
-that he had come from singing on that evening--the passionate
-“_Lascia ch'io pianga_” of Handel. Once more she was listening to
-the strains--they came from one of the rooms that opened upon the
-terrace--and now the chords of the accompaniment were struck with a
-vehemence that had been absent from her father's playing to Rauzzini's
-singing upon that occasion.
-
-She listened as if in a dream while the noble, despairing strain went on
-to its close, and the melody sobbed itself into silence--a silence
-that the birds among the roses seemed unwilling to break, for only an
-occasional note of a thrush was in the air....
-
-She heard the sound of the door opening a little way down the
-terrace--of a foot upon the flagged path. She did not raise her head,
-but she knew that he was there--only a few yards away from her.
-
-Through the silence there came the cawing of rooks far away among the
-trees of the park.
-
-Then all at once she heard his sudden exclamation of surprise. He had
-not seen her at first; he saw her now.
-
-“_Dio mio! ella è qui!_”
-
-Still she did not turn her head toward him. More than a minute had
-passed before she heard his slow steps as he approached her. He was
-beside her for quite as long before he spoke.
-
-“I did not know that you were here,” he said in a low voice. “But I am
-glad. It is but right that I should say good-bye to you alone.”
-
-Then she looked up.
-
-“Why--why--why?” she cried almost piteously. “Why should you say
-good-bye? What has made the change in you?”
-
-“It is not I who have changed: it is you,” said he. “I loved the sweet,
-modest, untarnished jewel of a girl--a pearl hidden away from the sight
-of men in a dim sea-cave--a violet--ah, I told you how I loved the
-violet that hides itself from every eye--that was what you were when
-I loved you, and I hoped to return to your side and find you the same.
-Well, I return and--ah, where is the exquisite shrinking one that I
-looked for? Gone--gone--gone for ever, and in her place I find one whose
-name is in every mouth--not a soft, gentle girl, but a woman who has put
-her heart into a book--_Dio mio!_ A woman who puts her heart into a
-book is like a woman who disrobes in a public place--worse--worse--she
-exposes a heart that should be sacred--feelings that it would be a gross
-indelicacy to exhibit to the eyes of man!”
-
-“And that is how you think of me on account of what I have done?” said
-she.
-
-“How can I think anything else?” he cried. “I told you that I loved you
-because you were so unlike others--because you were like a child for
-timidity and innocence of the world. I told you on that last evening we
-were together how greatly I admired the act of Miss Linley in turning
-her back upon the platform where she had sung and vowing never to
-return to it--that was what I told you I loved--I who have seen how
-the nature--the womanly charm of every woman suffers by reason of her
-appealing to the public for money--for applause. That beautiful creature
-forsook the platform before it was too late--before the evil influence
-could work her ruin. But you--what do I hear the day I return to
-England?--you have put your heart--your soul, into a book that causes
-your name to be tossed about from mouth to mouth--Fanny Burney--Fanny
-Burney--Fanny Burney--I hear that name, which I regarded as sacred,
-spoken as freely as men speak the name of their Kitty Fisher--their
-Polly Kennedy--their Fanny Abington! These are public characters--so
-are you--oh, my God! so are you. You should have heard how you were
-discussed in that room behind us before you arrived to-day--that
-gross man Johnson--he called you by a dozen pet names as if he had a
-right--'Fan'--'Fannikin'--I know not what--' a shy rogue '--that was
-another! They laughed! They did not see the degradation of it. You were
-a toy of the public--the vulgar crowd! Ah, you saw how that gross man,
-who fed himself as a wolf, tucked you under his arm and the others only
-smiled! Oh, I was shocked--shocked!”
-
-“And I felt proud--prouder than I have felt in my life,” said she. “But
-now I see what I have lost--forfeited. Listen to me and I will tell
-you what my dream was. I had written that book, but I had no hope of
-printing it until I met you and heard from your lips--all that I heard.”
-
-“It was the truth--then: I loved you--then.”
-
-“I knew that it was the truth. But who was I that I should be beloved by
-you? I felt that it would be unendurable to me to hear people refer
-to us--as I knew they would--the great singer who had stooped to a
-nonentity.”
-
-“Ah! that was the charm!”
-
-“Who except you would have said so? I knew what they would say, and I
-made up my mind that I would not go to you except as an equal. I wanted
-you to marry someone of whom you would feel proud, and I thought that
-I had a little gift which I would lay at your feet. I did my best to
-perfect it for your sake; but even when the book was printed I would not
-give you my promise until I had assured myself that the gift would be
-pronounced worthy of your acceptance. That was why I put you off for so
-many months.”
-
-“Ah, that was your mystery--you called it a mystery.”
-
-“That was my secret--my mystery. Never mind; I thought that my hope was
-realized when everyone about me was talking of the book and when people
-whose opinion was valuable had said it was good--my one thought, God
-knows, was that I could go to you--that I could make you happy, since I
-should be thought by the world to be in some measure at least, worthy of
-you.”
-
-“My poor child! you have not made me happy, but miserable. No one can
-make me happy now. I do not love you now--you are a different person
-now, and you can never return to be what you were. That is the worst of
-all: you can never return to your former innocence.”
-
-“I can bear to hear you say even that; for now I perceive the mistake I
-made. I should not have thought of the difference between us: I should
-only have had one thought--that you had offered me your love and that I
-was ready to offer you my love. That should have been enough for me. You
-were right, I was wrong. Good-bye.”
-
-He looked at her for a few moments--tears were in his eyes and on his
-cheeks--then he turned away with a passionate gesture, crying in his
-native tongue:
-
-“Mother--mother in heaven! I loved her because she was of a nature the
-same as yours--saint-like as a lily--shrinking from the world--in the
-world but having nothing in common with the world. I loved her because
-I thought that she was as you were. I will not be a traitor to your
-ideal--to your memory.”
-
-He returned to her.
-
-“I am alone in the world; but I know that the spirit of that saint,
-my mother, looks down upon me from her heaven, and will comfort me. My
-heart is broken. _Addio! Addio!_ I do not mean to be cruel--tell me that
-you do not accuse me of being cruel!”
-
-“I do not accuse you. I think I understand you--that is all.”
-
-“_Addio--addio--addio!_”
-
-The sound of his voice grew less with every word.
-
-She was alone in the silence of the twilight.
-
-Not for long, however. She heard the voice of Mrs. Thrale in the room
-behind her, followed by the protests of Dr. Johnson.
-
-“Miss Burney and I want to have an undisturbed talk together about
-writing books,” Mrs. Thrale was saying as she came out upon the terrace.
-
-“Books, madam; any fool can talk of books, and a good many fools avail
-themselves of the licence,” cried Johnson. “Miss Burney and I are going
-to talk about life. Books are not life, Miss Burney.”
-
-“No, sir,” said Miss Burney slowly; “books are not life--books are not
-life.”
-
-THE END
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-End of Project Gutenberg's Fanny's First Novel, by Frank Frankfort Moore
-
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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 51922 ***
+
+FANNY'S FIRST NOVEL
+
+By Frank Frankfort Moore.
+
+Author of “The Jessamy Bride,” “A Nest of Linnets,” “I Forbid the
+'Banns,” Etc.
+
+London: Hutchinson & Co. Paternoster Row, E. C.
+
+1913
+
+
+[Illustration: 0001]
+
+
+[Illustration: 0009]
+
+
+
+
+
+FANNY'S FIRST NOVEL
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+|INDEED, I am not quite assured in my mind that the influence of Mr.
+Garrick upon such a family as ours is healthy,” said Mrs. Burney, when
+the breakfast cups had been removed and the maid had left the room
+in the little house in St. Martin's Street, off Leicester Fields. Dr.
+Burney, the music-master, had not to hurry away this day: his first
+lesson did not begin until noon; it was to be given at the mansion of
+Mr. Thrale, the brewer, at Streatham, and the carriage was not to
+call for him for another hour. He was glancing at the _Advertiser_ in
+unaccustomed indolence, but when his wife had spoken he glanced up from
+the paper and an expression of amused surprise was upon his face. His
+daughter Fanny glanced up from the work-basket which her mother had
+placed ready for her the moment that the breakfast-table had been
+cleared, and the expression upon little Miss Burney's face was one that
+had something of fright in it. She was too short-sighted to see the wink
+which her brother James, lieutenant in His Majesty's navy, gave her, for
+their stepmother had her back turned to him. But Mrs. Burney, without
+seeing him, knew that, as he himself would phrase it, he had tipped
+Fanny a wink. She turned quickly round upon him, and if she had
+previously any doubt on this point, it was at once dispelled by the
+solemnity of his face.
+
+Dr. Burney gave a laugh.
+
+“The influence of Mr. Garrick is like that of the air we breathe,” said
+he. “It is not to be resisted by the age we live in, leaving family
+matters out of the question altogether: the Burney family must inhale
+as much of the spirit of Mr. Garrick as the rest of the town-they cannot
+help themselves, _ces pauvres Burneys!_ they cannot live without Mr.
+Garrick.”
+
+Mrs. Burney shook her head solemnly; so did Lieutenant James Burney, for
+he had all his life been under the influence of Mr. Garrick, when the
+atmosphere brought by Mr. Garrick was one of comedy.
+
+“My meaning is that Mr. Garrick is not content to allow simple people
+such as ourselves to live as simple people,” said Mrs. Burney. “I
+protest that I have felt it: the moment he enters our house we seem to
+be in a new world-whatsoever world it is his whim to carry us to.”
+
+“That is the truth, my dear-he can do what he pleases with us and with
+all the thousands who have flocked to his playhouse since his Goodman's
+Fields days--he has made a fortune as a courier; transporting people
+to another world for an hour or two every night--a world that is less
+humdrum than this in which four beats go to every bar and every crotchet
+goes to a beat! Dear soul! he has made our hearts beat at times beyond
+all computation of time and space.”
+
+“You will herring-bone the edges neatly, Fanny: I noticed some lack of
+neatness in the last of the napery that left your hand, my dear,” said
+Mrs. Burney, bending over her stepdaughter at her work-basket; and,
+indeed, it seemed that the caution was not unnecessary, for Fanny's eyes
+were gleaming and she was handling her work with as great indifference
+(for the moment) as though she esteemed plain sewing something of
+drudgery rather than a delight. And now, having administered her timely
+caution, the good lady turned to her husband, saying:
+
+“To my mind what you have claimed for Mr. Garrick but adds emphasis to
+my contention that his visits have a disturbing influence upon a homely
+family, taking them out of themselves, so to speak, and transporting
+them far beyond the useful work of their daily life. I have noticed with
+pain for some time past that Fanny's heart has not been in her work:
+her cross-stitch has been wellnigh slovenly, and her herring-boning has
+really been indifferent--I say it with sorrow; but dear Fanny is too
+good a girl to take offence at my strictures, which she knows are honest
+and meant for her good.”
+
+“Madam,” said Lieutenant Burney, “I pray you to give me leave to bear
+you out; but at the same time to make excuses for Fan. I must do so in
+justice to her, for the blame rests with me so far as the herring-boning
+is concerned. I confess, with tears in my eyes, that 'twas I who
+provided her with the last models for her herring-boning; and 'twas
+surely some demon in my breast that prompted me to substitute the
+skeleton of one of the South Sea fishes which I hooked when becalmed
+with Captain Cook within sight of Otaheite, for the true herring whose
+backbone is a model of regularity to be followed by all workers with the
+needle, when deprived of the flesh, which is the staple fare of hundreds
+of honest families and, while nourishing them amply, prevents their
+thoughts from carrying them beyond the region pervaded by the smell of
+their cooking.”
+
+“That were a wide enough area upon occasions for the most ambitious of
+thinkers,” said Dr. Burney, controlling his features, seeing that his
+wife took the ward-room humour of his son with dreadful seriousness.
+He made a sign to James to go no further--but James had gone round the
+world once, and he was not to be checked in a humbler excursion.
+
+“Yes, madam, 'tis my duty to confess that Fanny's model was the
+flying-fish, and not the simple Channel herring, hence the failure to
+achieve the beautiful regularity of design which exists in the backbone
+of the latter from the figurehead to the stern, larboard sloping in one
+direction and starboard in the other. If anyone be culpable 'tis myself,
+not Fanny; but I throw myself on your mercy, and only implore that the
+herring-boning of my sister will not result in a whaling for me.”
+
+Mrs. Burney looked seriously from her brother to Fanny, and getting no
+cue from either, began:
+
+“'Tis indeed honourable for you to endeavour by your confession to
+excuse the fault of your sister, James-----”
+
+“The traditions of the service, madam----” began the lieutenant, laying
+his hand on his heart; but he got no further, for Fanny could restrain
+herself no longer; she burst into a laugh and dropped her work, and her
+father rose, holding up his hand.
+
+“The jest has gone far enough, James,” he said. “We sleep in beds in
+this house and do not swing in hammocks. Keep your deep-sea jests until
+you are out of soundings, if it please you.”
+
+“I ask your pardon, sir,” said James; “but i' faith there's many a
+true word said in jest; and it seems to me that there's a moral in the
+parable of the young woman who took the flying-fish of the South Seas
+for her model rather than the herring of the three-fathom coast-line of
+the Channel; and that moral touches close upon the complaint made by our
+good mother against Mr. Garrick.”
+
+“Let it be so,” said Mrs. Burney, who was a clever enough woman to
+perceive that it would be unwise to make a grievance of the impudence
+of a young naval gentleman. “Let it be so; let it be that we are
+simple, homely, wholesome herrings, we are none the better for such a
+flying-fish as Mr. Garrick coming among us, giving us, it may be, the
+notion that our poor fins are wings, and so urging us to make fools of
+ourselves by emulating the eagle. The moral of your fable is that we
+should keep to our own element--is not that so, sir?”
+
+“I' faith, madam, I am not sure but that 'tis so, and I haul down my
+colours to you, and feel no dishonour in the act,” cried James. “Lord,
+where should we all be to-day if it were not for the good women who
+hold fast to the old traditions of the distaff and needle? They are the
+women who do more for the happiness of men than all who pass their time
+dipping quills in ink-horns or daubing paint upon good canvas that might
+with luck be hung from a stunsail boom and add another knot to the log
+of a frigate of seventy-two! Is there anyone who dines at the table of
+Sir Joshua Reynolds round the corner that does not wish with all his
+heart that his sister would sell her palette and buy a wine-glass or two
+with the proceeds? Why, when we went to dinner at Sir Joshua's yesterday
+there were not enough glasses to go round the table.”
+
+“There never are--that is well known,” said Mrs. Burney.
+
+“Nay, nay; let us take to ourselves the reproof of Dr. Johnson to Mr.
+Boswell when he complained, loud enough almost for Sir Joshua himself to
+hear him, about the scarcity of service. 'Sir,' said Dr. Johnson, 'some
+who have the privilege of sitting at this table, and you are one of
+them, sir, will be wiser if they keep their ears open and their mouths
+shut than they would if they had the means of drinking all that you are
+longing to drink.'”
+
+“Mr. Boswell, in spite of the reproof, contrived to lurch from the table
+with more wine than wisdom 'tween decks,” remarked James.
+
+“He must have found a wine-glass,” said Miss Susy Burney, who had been
+quite silent but quite attentive to every word that had been spoken
+since breakfast-time.
+
+“And so the honour of Mrs. Reynolds's housekeeping is saved,” said Dr.
+Burney.
+
+“Nay, sir, is not Mr. Boswell a Scotsman?” cried the irrepressible
+James.
+
+“That is his lifelong sorrow, since he fancies it to be an insuperable
+barrier between his idol, Dr. Johnson, and himself,” replied his father.
+“But how does his Scotsmanship bear upon the wine-glass question?”
+
+“Ah, sir, without being versed in the subtleties of theology I make bold
+to think that Father Adam did not suffer hunger until knives and forks
+were invented,” said James. “Your drouthy Scot will drink straight from
+the bottle if no beaker be at hand. Oh, why was not Mr. Garrick at Sir
+Joshua's to rouse our spirits by his imitation of Mr. Boswell seeking
+for a wine-glass--and after?”
+
+“Mr. Boswell is too trivial a subject for Davy: I have seen him take off
+Dr. Johnson mixing a bowl of punch until I was like to die of laughter.
+I protest that when he came to the squeezing of the imaginary lemon,
+while he cried out in the Doctor's broadest Lichfield, 'Who's for
+poonch?' I could smell the acid juice,” said Dr. Burney, and he laughed
+at the recollection of Garrick's fooling.
+
+The naval man gave a resounding nautical smack to his thigh.
+
+“That is what 'tis to be a sailor,” he cried. “I have had no chance of
+seeing Mr. Garrick at his best. I should dearly like to hear him take
+off Mr. Boswell when three sheets in the wind. Why was he not with us
+yesterday?”
+
+“Mr. Garrick himself has had a drinking bout on. He has been at the
+Wells for the past fortnight,” said his father.
+
+“_Ecce signum!_” came a doleful voice from the door, and a little man
+slowly put round the jamb a face bearing such an expression of
+piteous nausea as caused everyone in the room--not even excepting Mrs.
+Burney--to roar with laughter--uncontrollable laughter.
+
+Then the expression on the little man's face changed to one of surprised
+indignation. He crept into the room and looked at every person therein
+with a different expression on his face for each--a variation of his
+original expression of disgust and disappointment mingled with doleful
+reproof. It seemed as if it was not a single person who had entered the
+room, but half a dozen persons--a whole doleful and disappointed family
+coming upon an unsympathetic crew convulsed with hilarity.
+
+And then he shook his head sadly.
+
+“And these are the people who have just heard that I have been taking
+the nauseous waters of Tunbridge Wells for a whole fortnight,” and there
+was a break in his voice. “Oh, Friendship, art thou but a name? Oh,
+Sympathy, art thou but a mask? Is the world of sentiment nothing more
+than a world of shadows? Have all the sweet springs of compassion dried
+up, leaving us nothing but the cataracts of chalybeate to nauseate the
+palate?”
+
+He looked round once more, and putting the tips of his fingers together,
+glanced sadly up to the ceiling, then sighed and turned as if to leave
+the room.
+
+“Nay, sir,” cried Dr. Burney, “I do not believe that the chalybeate
+cataracts still flow: 'tis my firm belief, from the expression of your
+face, that you have swallowed the whole spring--the Wells of Tunbridge
+must have been dried up by you before you left--your face betrays you.
+I vow that so chalybeate an expression could not be attained by lesser
+means.”
+
+“Sir, you do me honour, and you have a larger faith in me than my own
+physician,” said the little man, brightening up somewhat. “Would you
+believe that he had the effrontery to accuse me of shirking the hourly
+pailful that he prescribed for me?”
+
+“He had not seen you as we have, Mr. Garrick,” said Dr. Burney.
+
+“He accused me of spending my days making matches and making mischief
+in the Assembly Rooms and only taking the waters by sips--me, sir, that
+have so vivid a memory of Mr. Pope's immortal lines:
+
+               A little sipping is a dangerous tiling,
+
+               Drink deep or taste not the chalybeate spring!”
+
+“You were traduced, my friend--but tell us of the matches and the
+mischief and we shall be the more firmly convinced of your integrity.”
+
+“Nay, sir; I give you my word that 'twas but the simplest of
+matches--not by any means of the sort that yonder desperado fresh
+from the South Seas applies to the touch-hole of one of his horrible
+ten-pounders when the enemy's frigate has to be sunk--nay, a simple
+little match with no more powder for it to burn than may be found on
+the wig of a gentleman of fifty-two and on the face of a lady of
+forty-five--the one a gay bachelor, t'other a ripe widow--' made for one
+another,' said I; and where was the mischief in that? And if I ventured
+to broach the subject of the appropriateness of the union of the twain,
+and to boast under the inspiring influence of the chalybeate spring that
+I could bring it about, is there anyone that will hint that I was not
+acting out of pure good nature and a desire to make two worthy folk
+happy--as happy as marriage can make any two-----”
+
+“Give us their names, sir, and let us judge on that basis,” said Dr.
+Bumey.
+
+“I have no desire to withhold them, my dear Doctor; for I want you to
+back me up, and I am sure that--oh, Lord! here comes the man himself.
+For the love of heaven, back me up, Doctor, and all will be well.”
+
+“Nay, I will not be dragged by the hair of the head into any of your
+plots, my friend,” cried Burney. “Nay, not I. I have some reputation to
+maintain, good friend Garrick; you must play alone the part of Puck that
+you have chosen for yourself this many a year. Think not that you will
+induce me to study the character under you, and so thus-----”
+
+The manservant threw open the door of the room, announcing:
+
+“Mr. Kendal to wait upon you, sir.”
+
+But by the time a small and rather rotund gentleman had been ushered
+into the room, Mr. Garrick was apparently engaged in an animated
+conversation with Miss Burney on the subject of the table-cover at which
+she was working.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+|THE visitor walked with the short strut of the man who at least does
+not underrate his own importance in the world. But he suggested just
+at the moment the man who is extremely nervous lest he may not appear
+perfectly selfpossessed. There was an air of bustle about him as he
+strutted into the room, saying:
+
+“Dr. Burney, I am your servant, sir. I have done myself the honour to
+visit you on a rather important piece of business.”
+
+“Sir, you have conferred honour upon me,” said Dr. Burney.
+
+Then the gentleman seemed to become aware for the first time that there
+were other people in the room; but it was with an air of reluctance that
+he felt called on to greet the others.
+
+“Mrs. Burney, I think,” he said, bowing to that lady, “and her estimable
+family, I doubt not. Have I not had the privilege of meeting Mrs. Burney
+at the house of--of my friend--my esteemed friend, Mrs. Barlowe? And
+this gentleman of the Fleet--ha, to be sure I have heard that there was
+a Lieutenant Burney of the Navy! And--gracious heavens! Mr. Garrick!”
+
+Mr. Garrick had revealed himself from the recesses of Miss Burney's
+work-basket. He, at any rate, was sufficiently self-possessed to pretend
+to be vastly surprised. He raised both his hands, crying:
+
+“Is it possible that this is Mr. Kendal? But surely I left you at the
+Wells no later than--now was it not the night before last? You were the
+cynosure of the Assembly Rooms, sir, if I may make bold to say so. But
+I could not look for you to pay attention to a poor actor when you were
+receiving the attentions of the young, and, may I add without offence,
+the fair? But no, sir; you will not find that I am the one to tell tales
+out of school, though I doubt not you have received the congratulations
+of----”
+
+“There you go, sir, just the same as the rest of them!” cried the
+visitor. “Congratulations! felicitations! smiles of deep meaning
+from the ladies, digs in the ribs with suggestive winks from the
+gentlemen--people whose names I could not recall--whom I'll swear I had
+never spoken to in my life--that is why I left the Wells as hastily as
+if a tipstaff had been after me--that is why I am here this morning,
+after posting every inch of the way, to consult Dr. Burney as to my
+position.”
+
+“I protest, sir, that I do not quite take you,” said Mr. Garrick, with
+the most puzzled expression on his face that ever man wore. “Surely,
+sir, your position as a man of honour is the most enviable one possible
+to imagine! Mrs. Nash----”
+
+“There you blurt out the name, Mr. Garrick, and that is what I had no
+intention of doing, even when laying my case before Dr. Burney, who is
+a man of the world, and whom I trust to advise me what course I should
+pursue.”
+
+“I ask your pardon, sir,” said Mr. Garrick humbly; “but if the course
+you mean to pursue has aught to do with the pursuit of so charming a
+lady, and a widow to boot----”
+
+“How in the name of all that's reasonable did that gossip get about?”
+ cried the visitor. “I give you my word that I have not been pursuing the
+lady--I met her at the Wells for the first time a fortnight ago--pursuit
+indeed!”
+
+“Nay, sir, I did not suggest that the pursuit was on your part,” said
+Garrick in a tone of irresistible flattery. “But 'tis well known that as
+an object of pursuit of the fair ones, the name of Mr. Kendal has been
+for ten years past acknowledged without a peer.”
+
+The gentleman held up a deprecating hand, but the smile that was on his
+face more than neutralized his suggestion.
+
+“Nay, Mr. Garrick, I am but a simple country gentleman,” he cried. “To
+be sure, I have been singled out more than once for favours that might
+have turned the head of an ordinary mortal--one of them had a fortune
+and was the toast of the district; another----”
+
+“If you will excuse me, gentlemen, the Miss Burneys and myself will take
+our leave of you: we have household matters in our hands,” said Mrs.
+Burney, making a sign to Fanny and her sister, and going toward the
+door.
+
+“Have I said too much, madam? If so, I pray of you to keep my secret,”
+ cried the visitor. “The truth is that I have confidence in the advice of
+Dr. Burney as a man of the world.”
+
+“I fear that to be a man of the world is to be of the flesh and the
+devil as well,” said Dr. Burney.
+
+“Augmented qualifications for giving advice on an affair of the Wells,”
+ said Garrick slyly to the naval lieutenant.
+
+“You will not forget, Doctor, that Mr. Thrale's carriage is appointed to
+call for you within the hour,” said Mrs. Burney over her shoulder as she
+left the room.
+
+Fanny and her sister were able to restrain themselves for the few
+minutes necessary to fly up the narrow stairs, but the droll glance that
+Mr. Garrick had given them as they followed their mother, wellnigh made
+them disgrace themselves by bursting out within the hearing of their
+father's visitor. But when they reached the parlour at the head of the
+stairs and had thrown themselves in a paroxysm of laughter on the sofa,
+Mrs. Burney reproved them with some gravity.
+
+“This is an instance, if one were needed, of the unsettling influence of
+Mr. Garrick,” she said. “He has plainly been making a fool of that
+conceited gentleman, and it seems quite likely that he will persuade your
+father to back him up.”
+
+“I do not think that Mr. Garrick could improve greatly upon Nature's
+handiwork in regard to that poor Mr. Kendal,” said Fanny. “But what
+would life be without Mr. Garrick?”
+
+“It would be more real, I trust,” said her stepmother. “He would have
+us believe that life is a comedy, and that human beings are like the
+puppets which Mr. Foote put on his stage for the diversion of the town a
+few years ago.”
+
+Fanny Burney became grave; the longer she was living in the world,
+the more impressed was she becoming with the idea that life was a
+puppet-show; only when the puppets began to dance on their wires in a
+draught of wind from another world the real comedy began. She felt that
+as an interpreter of life Mr. Garrick had no equal on the stage or off.
+On the stage he could do no more than interpret other people's notions
+of life, and these, except in the case of Shakespeare, were, she
+thought, mostly feeble; but when he was off the stage--well, Sir Joshua
+Reynolds had told her what that queer person, Dr. Goldsmith, had written
+about Garrick--the truest criticism Garrick had ever received: “'Twas
+only that when he was off he was acting.” She knew what she herself owed
+to Garrick from the time she was nine years old, when he had accustomed
+her and her sister to look for him at their house almost daily; she knew
+that whatever sense of comedy she possessed--and she looked on it as
+a precious possession--was to be attributed to the visits of Garrick.
+Every time she looked at her carefully locked desk in that room at the
+top of the house in St. Martin's Street, which had once been Sir Isaac
+Newton's observatory, she felt that without the tuition in comedy that
+she had received at the hands of Mr. Garrick, the contents of that
+desk would have been very different. Her stepmother, however, had no
+information on this point; she had lived all her life among the good
+tradespeople of Lynn, and had known nothing of Mr. Garrick until Dr.
+Burney had married her and brought her to look after his children, which
+Fanny knew she had done faithfully, according to her lights, in London.
+
+Fanny kept silent on the subject of Mr. Garrick's fooling, while Mrs.
+Burney bent with great gravity over the cutting out of a pinafore for
+Fanny's little niece--also a Burney; and every now and again there came
+from the closed room downstairs the sound of the insisting voice of the
+visitor. She hoped that Mr. Garrick would re-enact the scene for her;
+she had confidence that it would lose nothing by its being re-enacted by
+Mr. Garrick.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+|I SUPPOSE that I must e'en follow in the wake of the womenkind,” said
+Lieutenant Burney, making an extremely slow move in the direction of the
+door, when the door had been closed upon his stepmother and his sisters.
+
+“Is there any need?” asked Garrick. “It seems to me that in such a
+case as this which Mr. Kendal promises to propound to your father, His
+Majesty's Navy should be represented. In all matters bearing upon a
+delicate _affaire de cour_ surely a naval man should be present to act
+as assessor.”
+
+'Mr. Kendal looked puzzled.
+
+“I fail to take your meaning, sir,” said he, after a pause; he was still
+rubbing his chin with a fore-finger, when Garrick cried:
+
+“Oh, sir, surely the advantage of the counsel of an officer trained to
+navigate femininity in the shape of a ship, is apparent: a ship, even
+though a three-decker ready to fire a broadside of a hundred guns, is
+invariably alluded to as 'she,'” said he, airily.
+
+“Such an one must surely be the most formidable piece of femininity in
+the world,” said Mr. Kendal.
+
+“By no means,” said Garrick. “During my career as the manager of a
+playhouse I have had to face worse. Still, the training of a naval
+officer in dealing with feminine craft--at times off a lee shore, and
+often during a storm at sea--nothing to be compared to the tempests in
+our green-room--is certain to be of value. You will stay, Lieutenant
+Burney, if it please you.”
+
+“I should be most unwilling to obtrude upon your council, sir,” said
+young Burney, “unless you are convinced that my humble services----”
+
+“You have been among the savages of the South Seas, and you are
+acquainted with all the rules of chasing and capturing prizes, all
+of the feminine gender--I allude to your sloops and frigates and
+catamarans--I take it for granted that a catamaran is as feminine in its
+ways as any wherry that floats,” cried Garrick. Then he turned to their
+visitor, who was looking more puzzled than ever.
+
+“You may reckon yourself fortunate in the presence of our young friend,
+sir,” he said. “So far as I can gather this is a case of chase, with
+a possible capture of a prize. I venture to think that in these days a
+gentleman of family and fortune, like yourself, is something of a prize,
+Mr. Kendal.” This was language that contained nothing to puzzle anyone,
+the visitor perceived. His face brightened, and he waved young Burney to
+a seat.
+
+“I take it that Mr. Garrick knows what he is talking about,” he said.
+“And though it was truly your father to whom I came for counsel, I
+doubt not that you will take my part, should the worst come to the
+worst.”
+
+“Which means, should the lady come to the gentleman, Mr. Burney,” said
+Garrick.
+
+“Pay out your yarn, sir: I gather that you are still to the windward of
+your enemy, and that is the position which the books tell us we should
+manoeuvre for,” cried the nautical assessor.
+
+Dr. Burney sat silently by, he had no mind to join in the fooling of
+the others. Dr. Burney had never in his life lost a sense of his own
+dignity. He had been a church organist for thirty years, and no man
+who has had such an experience of the control of an instrument of such
+superlative dignity could be otherwise than dignified. He had never
+once run off on a keyboard a single phrase of “The Beggar's Opera.” Even
+Handel's “Ruddier than the Cherry,” with Mr. Gay's ticklish rhymed
+line about “Kidlings blithe and merry,” he only played apologetically,
+allowing it to be clearly understood that Mr. Handel and Mr. Gay divided
+between them the responsibility for so frivolous a measure.
+
+He remained dignified and silent while Garrick and James carried on
+their fooling. Only a short time before he had occasion to reprove the
+lack of dignity on the part of his important patroness, Mrs. Thrale, the
+wife of the wealthy brewer, in having put herself behind Signor Piozzi
+while he was singing a sentimental canzone and mimicked his southern
+fervour of expression. Mrs. Thrale had taken his reproof in good part
+at the time; but no one--least of all Mrs. Thrale herself--could have
+foreseen that her contrition should extend so far as to cause her to
+marry the singer on the death of Mr. Thrale.
+
+“To be brief, sir,” said Mr. Kendal, addressing, not Dr. Burney, whom he
+had come to consult, but Mr. Garrick, who had shown himself to be much
+more sympathetic. “To be brief, I had gone to the Wells as my custom has
+been for the past twenty years. I went honestly to drink the waters, not
+making it an excuse, as so many do, for indulging in the gaieties, or, I
+may add, the intrigues, of the Assembly Rooms. I was civil, as I hoped,
+to everyone, but, I give you my word, no more so to Mrs. Nash than any
+other lady.”
+
+“I do not doubt that you believe this, sir,” said Garrick, with an
+indulgent wave of the hand; “but when a lady has eyes only for one
+gentleman, she is apt to place a construction upon the simplest of
+his civilities beyond that assigned to it by ordinary people; but pray
+proceed, sir. I will only add that it was quite well known at the Wells
+that the lady regarded you with the tenderest of emotions. Had she not
+boldly said to Lady-------- no; I dare not mention her name; but her
+ladyship is invariably what the Italians term _simpatica_ in regard to
+the tender affairs of her sisters--and it was to her that Mrs. Nash
+confided her secret--referring to you as bearing a striking resemblance
+to the Apollo Belvedere, hoping that her doing so would not cause anyone
+to accuse her of Pagan leanings.”
+
+“Is it possible! The poor lady! poor lady! But I was not to blame. I
+can justly acquit myself of all blame in this unhappy affair,” said Mr.
+Kendal.
+
+“You are quite right, sir; is it a man's fault that he should bear a
+striking likeness to the Apollo--I doubt not that the resemblance has
+caused you some annoyance at various times of your life, Mr. Kendal,”
+ said Garrick.
+
+“Never, sir, never--at least----” he took a step to one side that
+allowed of his having a full-length view of his reflection in the narrow
+mirror that filled up the space between the windows; and the result of
+his scrutiny of the picture was certainly not displeasing to him. He
+boldly put forward a leg, and then quite unconscious, as anyone could
+see, struck an attitude, though not quite that of the Apollo Belvedere.
+Then he smirked.
+
+“A leg like yours, Mr. Kendal, to say nothing of the poise of your
+head, is a great responsibility,” said Garrick seriously. “The poor
+lady!--poor ladies!--I confess that I have heard of others. And she
+acknowledged to you that--that--oh, that most delicate of secrets!”
+
+“Never to me, sir--never in my hearing, I give you my word,” cried
+the man emphatically. “Nay, I did not so much as suspect it. The
+first intimation that I had of the matter was when, on Monday morning
+last--only three days ago--Captain Kelly--the boisterous Irishman--clapt
+me on the shoulder and almost shouted out his congratulations in my
+ear. When I forced him to mention the name of the lady, he ridiculed my
+denial--his forefinger in my ribs--painful as well as undignified. Who
+is Captain Kelly, that he should subject me to his familiarities? But
+if he was undignified, I flatter myself that I was not so. 'Sir, you
+presume,' I said, and walked on, leaving this vulgar fellow roaring with
+laughter.”
+
+“Psha! Kelly is a nobody,” said Garrick. “You should not have allowed
+yourself to be discomposed by such as he.”
+
+“Nor did I,” cried the other. “But what was I to think when I had
+advanced no more than a dozen paces, and found my hand grasped warmly
+by Sir John Dingle?--you know him, Mr. Garrick--I have seen him in
+your company--more congratulations--the same attitude, sir. And then
+up marches Mr. Sheridan--leaving his handsome wife--ah, I fear that I
+joined with all Bath in being in love with the lovely Miss Linley--and
+Mr. Sheridan was wellnigh affronted at my denial. But that was not all.
+Up comes Mrs. Cholmondeley in her chair and tapped for the men to set
+her down when she saw me--up went the roof and up went her head, with
+a shrill cry of 'Kendal, you rogue! to tell everyone at the Wells save
+only myself that Benedick is to be a married man!' And before she had
+finished her ridicule of my denial, up struts Mrs. Thrale, her footman
+behind her with her spaniel, and down she sinks in a curtsey, fitted
+only for a special night in the Rooms, and her 'Happy man!' came with a
+flick of her fan; and she, too, named Mrs. Nash! And that was not the
+last--I saw them hurrying up to me from all sides--ladies with smiles,
+and gentlemen with smirks--fingers twitching for my ribs--down they
+flowed upon me! I ask you, Lieutenant Burney, as a naval gentleman, and
+I am glad to have the opportunity of hearing your opinion--I ask you, if
+I was not justified in turning about and hastening away--what you
+nautical gentlemen term 'cutting my cable '?”
+
+“Indeed, sir; if I could believe that you gave the lady no
+encouragement, I would say that--that--but no one will convince me that
+upon some occasion--it may be forgotten by you--such men of fashion as
+yourself soon forget these things, I have heard, though the unhappy lady
+treasures them as golden memories--I say upon some occasion you may have
+given the Widow Nash encouragement. You have your reputation as a sly
+rogue to maintain, Mr. Kendal,” said young Burney gravely, as though he
+were a lawyer being seriously consulted.
+
+“Fore Gad, sir, I gave her no encouragement,” cried Mr. Kendal. “I have
+ever been most cautious, I swear.”
+
+“Then the greater shame for you, sir,” said Garrick.
+
+The man whom he addressed looked in amazement first at Garrick, then at
+Lieutenant Burney--Dr. Burney, whom he had come to consult, was smiling
+quite unnoticed in a corner. His part, apparently, was no more than that
+of the looker-on at a comedy. His presence was ignored by the others.
+
+“The more shame--the more----” began the visitor. “I protest that I
+scarcely take your meaning, Mr. Garrick.”
+
+“My meaning is plain, sir,” said Garrick firmly, almost sternly. “I
+affirm that it lay with you, when you perceived that the lady was so
+deeply enamoured of you----”
+
+“But I did not perceive it--you have my word for it.”
+
+“Ah, sir,” said Garrick, with the shrug of a Frenchman, which he had
+studied for some months in Paris--Mr. Garrick and Lord Chesterfield
+had alone mastered the art. “Ah, sir, we are all men of the world here.
+'Twere idle for you to pretend that a gentleman with the figure of the
+Belvedere Apollo and the leg of--of----” he turned to young Burney-- “You
+have seen the proud-stepping figure-heads of many ships of the line, Mr.
+Burney,” he said; “prithee help me out in my search for--for--the name I
+am in search of.”
+
+“H'm, let me see--something wooden with a leg to be proud of?” said the
+naval gentleman, considering the matter very earnestly.
+
+“Zounds, sir, I did not make it a condition that it should be a wooden
+leg,” cried Garrick.
+
+“I have seen more than one Admiral of the Fleet mighty proud of a wooden
+leg, sir,” said Burney. “But this is beside the question, which I
+take to be the responsibility of our good friend here--I hope I don't
+presume, Mr. Kendal--for kindling, albeit unconsciously, so far as he
+was concerned--that sacred flame in the breast of--to name only one out
+of a score--the lady whose name he mentioned.”
+
+“You are with me heart and soul, as I felt sure you would be, Mr.
+Burney; as a naval officer of judgment and experience,” cried Garrick,
+“and so, sir--” he turned to their visitor-- “I cannot doubt that you
+will comport yourself as a gentleman of honour in this affair. Do not
+allow your yielding to the natural impulse to run away to weigh too
+heavily upon you. If your act should cause you to be referred to with
+reprobation, not to say scorn, by the ladies or gentlemen of fashion who
+are certain to espouse the cause of the lady, your subsequent conduct
+will show them that they mistook your character. And I promise you that
+should you receive a challenge from any of the lady's admirers--those
+whose prayers she rejected because her heart was set on a gentleman who
+was worthy of her choice--I think you can afford to ignore them, having
+won the prize. Ah, sir, is there not a poet who says that every man that
+lives has a good angel and a bad one contending for dominion over him?
+That is the truth, Mr. Kendal, and I see that your good angel is none
+other than the lady whose name I reckon too sacred to pass our lips at
+such a time as this. Ah, sir, think of her, and let your mind go back to
+the days of your happy boyhood, and say if the mother at whose knees you
+knelt did not resemble her. The affection of a son for his mother--let
+that plead for the lady who esteems you with more than a mother's love.”
+
+He had laid his hand on the poor gentleman's shoulder, and was looking
+into his face, while the tears stood in his eyes, and his voice broke
+more than once.
+
+And there sat Dr. Burney wiping his eyes, and Lieutenant Burney
+blubbering away like any child--the two accessories to the actor's
+farce could not avoid yielding to the-influence of his unparalleled art.
+Though they were in his secret, he made fools of them as easily as he
+made a fool of the poor gentleman who was presumably his victim. And
+they had no feeling of being ashamed of yielding to his powers. He could
+do anything that he pleased with them. He could do anything he pleased
+with the multitudes before whom he acted. He was the master of their
+emotions for the time being. He played upon their passions as though
+every passion was a puppet and the strings in his own hands.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+|THE scene ended by Mr. Garrick's victim groping through his tears
+for Mr. Garrick's hand. He grasped it emotionally, and though for some
+moments he was too greatly overcome to be able to utter a word, yet at
+last he managed to blurt out with affecting incoherence a few phrases.
+
+“Say no more--say no more, sir,” he muttered. “I have a heart--a
+heart! I give you my word, whether you believe me or not, that I had no
+notion--but you have shown me what 'tis to be a woman. Oh, sir, there
+is no sweeter sex in the world! Deception! how a man's own heart may
+deceive him--ay, up to a certain point--but then--ah, you have taught
+me--but are you sure that the lady--what--have we not been going ahead
+too fast? What--what; are you convinced?”
+
+“You may take my word for it, sir,” replied Garrick. “There are signs
+that all who run may read. What, do you suppose that all those persons
+of quality whose names you mentioned just now as having offered you
+their felicitations--do you suppose that they could all be in error?”
+
+“Of course not--they must have seen--well, more than I saw,” said the
+man. “Matrimony! Lud! if an angel had come down to tell me that I should
+be contemplating such a change of life--and at my time of life too!--I
+should have----”
+
+“What an angel may fail to convince a man of, a woman may succeed in
+doing, Mr. Kendal,” said Garrick sententiously. “But do not talk of your
+time of life as if you were an old or even a middle-aged man, sir. To do
+so were to make Dr. Burney and myself feel patriarchs.”
+
+The mention of Dr. Burney seemed to cause the man to recollect how it
+was he came to be in Dr. Burney's house. He turned to Burney, saying:
+
+“Dear sir, I pray that you will look on my visit with lenient eyes.
+I admit that I came hitherto be advised by you--my friend, Mr. Fulke
+Greville, holds your opinion in the highest esteem, as do I, sir; and it
+was actually on my mind to ask you if you thought it would be wiser for
+me to go abroad for a year or two, or simply to seek some place of
+retirement at home--say, Cornwall or the Hebrides--I gather from the
+account of Dr. Johnson's tour thither that there are many places
+difficult of access in the Hebrides--that was on my mind, Doctor, I
+blush to acknowledge, so greatly overcome was I by what had happened at
+the Wells.”
+
+“Ah, with what great ease a man may slam the door that shuts out
+happiness from his life for evermore!” remarked Garrick.
+
+“Even now--even now I feel timid,” said Mr. Kendal thoughtfully, and,
+when he had found which pocket his handkerchief was in, wiping some dew
+from his brow. “The truth is, Doctor, that I have allowed some people to
+assume that I am but forty-seven years old, while as a matter of fact I
+have been forty-eight for some time.”
+
+“For some years?” asked young Burney, who did not know when he should
+keep silence.
+
+“For some months, sir--only for some months, I give you my word.”
+
+“Your deception in this matter could only have added to your reputation
+for accuracy,” said Garrick coolly. “For I vow that were you to confess
+that you were forty-eight, you would find none to believe you.”
+
+The gentleman's eyes twinkled, he pursed out his lips, and once again
+manoeuvred to get a full-length view of himself in the long mirror.
+He put out his right leg and assumed the attitude of a dancing master
+giving the _pas_ for the _minuet de cour_.
+
+“Well, well,” he cried, “if that be your opinion--and I happen to
+know that 'tis shared by others--it might not be unwise to allow the
+assumption, erroneous though it be, to continue. We will not undeceive
+the good folk. And you do not think that a bachelor of forty-eight--What
+is the name of that play of Mr. Sheridan's that took the town a year
+ago?--ah, _The School for Scandal_--you are sure that our friends will
+not call me--What was the gentleman's name?”
+
+“No one who knows how excellent are your principles will think of you
+either as Charles or Joseph, Mr. Kendal,” said Garrick.
+
+“No, no; but the one who was in my mind was neither of the brothers. I
+was thinking of--was it not Sir Peter Teazle?”
+
+Garrick as well as Burney laughed heartily, for the man at that moment
+suggested by his attitude and expression the Sir Peter Teazle of Kina,
+the actor.
+
+“Make your mind easy on that score, sir,” said Dr. Burney. “It is not
+your purpose to wed so skittish a young person as Lady Teazle. That was
+where Sir Peter showed his folly.”
+
+“No, no; Mrs. Nash is more mature, certainly, than Mrs. Abington looked
+in the part,” said Mr. Kendal confidently, and Lieutenant Burney was
+about to agree with him boisterously, but Garrick did not give him a
+chance.
+
+“There is none that will not commend your choice, Mr. Kendal--ay, sir,
+and look on you with envy as well,” he cried.
+
+“There can be no doubt about it,” said Mr. Kendal doubtfully. “The widow
+Nash is a monstrous fine woman.”
+
+“Monstrous, I doubt not,” put in young Burney, now that he had the
+chance.
+
+“All that I am uneasy about is the interpretation that she may put upon
+your sudden flight,” said Garrick. “You have, you will readily allow,
+sir, placed her in a somewhat difficult position at the Wells. While
+everyone who is anyone has been offering you congratulations upon the
+match, and a double portion to the lady, strange inquiries may be made
+as to your disappearance from the Wells; and she may not be able to give
+a satisfactory explanation at a moment's notice.”
+
+“Egad! I never thought of that, sir,” said Mr. Kendal, after a pause. “I
+fear that I have placed her in a very awkward position.”
+
+“Ay, sir; and the consequences may be that she will be snapped up by
+some adventurous person before you can put your fate to the test,”
+ said the naval man, raising a warning finger. “I have heard of ladies
+throwing themselves into the arms of the next comer out of sheer chagrin
+at being disappointed by the man on whom they had set their affections.”
+
+“That is a possibility that should not be neglected,” said Garrick.
+“But it was only on Monday that you fled. By rapid posting you may yet
+prevent such a calamity.”
+
+He was beginning to tire of his game now that he had succeeded so
+well in it and so easily. The fooling of the man who had so completely
+succumbed to his art had no further interest for him. He only wanted to
+get rid of him. He was as capricious and as fickle as a child over the
+toys of its nursery.
+
+“I shall lose no moment, be assured,” said Mr. Kendal. “I may still be
+in time. My hope in this direction is increased when I remember that
+the lady has been a widow for some years--to be exact, without being
+uncomplimentary, nine years. I remember when Mr. Nash died. 'Twas of
+pleurisy.”
+
+“Do not reckon too confidently on that, sir,” said young Burney. “Nine
+years have not passed since she faced the company at the Wells, every
+one of which was surely pointing at her and asking in mute eloquence,
+'What has become of Mr. Kendal?' But by posting without delay you may
+yet retrieve your error. Still, I confess to you that I have known of a
+lady who, out of sheer impatience at the delay of a lover whom she
+had hoped to espouse, married his rival after the lapse of twenty-four
+hours--ay, and when the belated gentleman arrived just after the
+ceremony, he furnished the wedding party with a succulent feast. She
+was the Queen of one of the islands that we visited in the company of
+Captain Cook, and the cockswain of our galley kept the pickled hand of
+the belated lover for many a day--the very hand which he had designed to
+offer the lady.”
+
+“This simple and affecting narrative proves more eloquently than any
+phrases of mine could possibly do how a man may miss the happiness of
+his life by a hair's breadth,” said Garrick. “And the lesson will not be
+lost upon you, I am certain, sir.”
+
+“Lud, Mr. Garrick, you do not mean to suggest that----”
+
+“That the lady may make a meal off you on your late return, sir? Nay,
+Mr. Kendal. The Wells are still the Wells, not the South Seas; but on
+the whole I am disposed to believe that the scheme of revenge of
+the woman scorned is fiercer, though perhaps not, at first sight, so
+primeval, in the region of Chalybeate Waters than in a cannibal island
+of the South Seas. Therefore--there is no time to be lost. Fly to your
+charmer, sir, and throw yourself at her feet. She may be thinking over
+some punishment for your having placed her in a false position for some
+days; but do not mind that. You can always console yourself with the
+reflection that a rod in pickle is much more satisfactory than a hand in
+pickle. Fly, my dear friend, fly; every moment is precious. Take my word
+for it, joy awaits you at the end of your journey.”
+
+“'Journeys end in lovers meeting,'” remarked Dr. Burney, with a slight
+suggestion of the setting of the words of the lyric by his old master,
+Dr. Arne.
+
+At this moment a servant entered the room.
+
+“The Streatham carriage is at the door, sir,” he announced.
+
+Dr. Burney rose from his chair.
+
+“I am forced to leave you, sir,” he said to Mr. Kendal. “But really
+there is naught further to consult on at present, and I know that you
+are impatient--it is but natural--to fly to the side of your charmer.”
+
+“I am all impatience, sir; but with what words can I express my
+obligation to you, Doctor, for the benefit of your counsel?” cried Mr.
+Kendal.
+
+Dr. Burney smiled.
+
+“Nay, dear sir, I am but the lessee of the theatre where the comedy has
+been played,” said he; and he had good reason for feeling that he had
+defined with accuracy the position that he occupied. But Mr. Kendal
+was thinking too much about himself and the position he occupied to
+appreciate such _nuances_.
+
+“I knew that I was safe in coming to a friend of Mr. Greville,” he said.
+“I care not if, as you suggest, you have become Mr. Garrick's successor
+at Drury Lane, though I thought that Mr. Sheridan----”
+
+“Zounds, sir, you are never going to wait to discuss theatre matters,”
+ cried Garrick. “Dr. Burney has been exercising his powers of oratory in
+vain upon you for this half hour if you tarry even to thank him. Post,
+sir, post at once to Tunbridge Wells, and send Dr. Burney your thanks
+when you have put the momentous question to the lady. Go, sir, without
+the pause of a moment, and good luck attend you.”
+
+“Good luck attend you! Keep up your heart, sir: the lady may refuse
+you after all,” said young Burney; but the poor gentleman who was being
+hurried away was too much flurried to be able to grasp the young man's
+innuendo, though one could see by the look that came to his face that
+he had an uneasy impression that Lieutenant Burney's good wishes had not
+been happily expressed. The great thing, however, was that he was at
+the other side of the door, calling out his obligations to everyone,
+and striving to shake hands with them all at once and yet preserve the
+security of his hat, which he had tucked under his arm. So excited was
+he that he was only restrained at the last moment from mounting the
+Thrales' carriage which was awaiting Dr. Burney, and even when his
+mistake was explained to him, he took off his hat to the splendid
+footman who had guarded the door of the vehicle.
+
+In the room where the comedy had been played, Garrick and Lieutenant
+Burney had thrown themselves into chairs with roars of laughter, when
+Dr. Burney returned from the hall, carrying his hat and cane. He was
+scarcely smiling.
+
+“You have played a pretty prank upon an inoffensive gentleman, the pair
+of you!” said he. “I am ashamed that my house has been used by you for
+so base a purpose! The poor gentleman!”
+
+“Psha! my dear Doctor, make your mind easy; the lady will teach that
+coxcomb a lesson that will be of advantage to him for the rest of his
+life,” said Garrick. “He has been the laughingstock of the Wells for the
+past fortnight, and no one laughed louder than the Widow Nash. She will
+bundle him out of her presence before he has had time to rise from his
+marrow-bones--he does not find the process a rapid one, I assure you.
+Oh, he was her _bete noire_ even when he was most civil to her.”
+
+“And it was you who concocted that plot of getting all your
+friends--Mrs. Cholmondeley, Mrs. Thrale and the rest--to make a fool of
+him, driving him away from the Wells to encounter a more irresistible
+pair of mocking demons in this room!” said Burney. “You cannot deny it,
+my friend, I know your tricks but too well.”
+
+“I swear to you that I had no hope of encountering him in this house, my
+dear Doctor,” said Garrick. “I give you my word that I had laid my
+plans quite differently. My plot was a far more elaborate one, and Polly
+Cholmondeley had agreed to take part in it, as well as Dick Sheridan.
+They will be disappointed to learn that it has miscarried. Who could
+guess that he should come to you of all men in the world, Doctor? He has
+never been one of your intimates.”
+
+“Only when I was living with Mr. Greville had we more than a superficial
+acquaintance,” replied Burney. “But that does not make me the less
+ashamed of having lent myself to your nefarious project. And you, James,
+you threw yourself with gusto into the fooling of the unhappy man--and
+woman too--and woman too, I repeat.”
+
+“Pray do not distress yourself on her account, Doctor. She will send him
+off with a flea in his ear by to-morrow night, and she will take care
+to pose as the insulted widow of Mr. Nash, whose memory is dear to her,”
+ said Garrick.
+
+“Will she, indeed?” said Burney. “David Garrick, you are the greatest
+actor that has ever lived in England--probably in the world--but you are
+a poor comedian compared with such as are at work upon our daily life:
+we call them Circumstance, and Accident, and Coincidence. You know the
+couplet, I doubt not:
+
+               ' Men are the sport of circumstances when
+
+               The circumstances seem the sport of men.'
+
+You have sounded the depths of human impulses, so far as your plummet
+allows you, and womankind seems to you an open book----”
+
+“An illuminated missal, with the prayers done in gold and the Lessons
+for the day in the most roseate tint, Doctor.”
+
+“And the Responses all of a kind--the same in one book as another? But I
+make bold to believe, my friend, that every woman is a separate volume,
+of which only one copy has been printed; and, moreover, that every
+separate volume of woman is sealed, so that anyone who fancies he knows
+all that is bound up between the covers, when he has only glanced at the
+binding, makes a mistake.”
+
+“Admirably put, sir, and, I vow, with fine philosophy,” said Garrick.
+“But what imports this nomination of a woman at the present moment,
+Doctor?”
+
+“Its import is that you are over sanguine in your assurance that Mrs.
+Nash, widow, will reject Mr. Kendal, bachelor, when he offers her his
+hand after a dusty journey; and so good day to you, David Garrick, and
+I pray you to spend the rest of the day in the study of the history
+of those women who have opened the leaves of their lives a little way
+before the eyes of mankind.”
+
+He had left the room and was within the waiting carriage and driving
+away before his son remarked:
+
+“Mr. Garrick, it seems to me that my good father has spoken the wisest
+words that you or I have heard to-day or for many a day.”
+
+“And i' faith, James, it seems to me that that remark of yours is the
+second wisest that has been uttered in this room,” said Garrick.
+
+He went away without a further word--without even taking his leave of
+the two young women and their stepmother, who herself had been a widow
+before she had married Dr. Burney. He had once believed that nothing
+a woman--young or old--could do would surprise him; for some reason or
+other he was not now quite so confident as he had been. But he certainly
+did not think that one of the greatest surprises of the century should
+be due to the demure young woman who seemed the commonplace daughter of
+a very ordinary household, and who at the moment of his departure was
+darning a small hole in a kitchen table-cloth, under the superintendence
+of her admirable stepmother.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+|IN the course of the morning Esther, the married daughter of the Bumey
+family, called at the house in St. Martin's Street. Esther, or as she
+was usually alluded to by her sisters, Hetty or Hettina, was handsome
+and accomplished. She had been married for some years to her cousin,
+Charles Rousseau Burney, who was a musician, and they lived and enjoyed
+living in an atmosphere of music. Her father took care that she was
+never likely to be asphyxiated; their atmosphere would never become
+attenuated so long as they lived, as they did, close to St. Martin's
+Street. He was well aware of the fact that his Hetty's duets with her
+husband--“matrimonial duets” they were called by Fanny in some of her
+letters--and also with her sister Charlotte, served to attract many
+distinguished visitors and profitable patrons to his house; he never
+forgot that profitable patrons and patronesses are always attracted
+by distinguished visitors. When one finds oneself in the company of
+distinguished people, one naturally feels a distinguished person also.
+
+Moreover, Dr. Burney knew perfectly well that when ambitious patrons
+and patronesses were made aware of the success which he had achieved in
+respect of his daughters, they were all ready to implore of him to
+spare some of his valuable time to give lessons to themselves, seeing no
+reason why, with his assistance, they should not reach the level of his
+two musical daughters. He conducted his teaching on the principle which
+brings fortunes to the Parisian modiste, who takes good care that her
+mannequins are good-looking and of a fine figure, knowing that the
+visitors to the showrooms have no doubt, no matter how little Nature
+has done for their own features or figures, that in the robes of the
+mannequins they will appear equally fascinating.
+
+The adoption of this system in the Burney household operated extremely
+well, and Dr. Burney had for several years enjoyed the proceeds of his
+cultivation of the musical tastes of the most influential clientèle in
+London. In addition, the greatest singers in Europe, knowing that there
+was always an influential _assistance_ to be found at Dr. Burney's
+little concerts in St. Martin's Street, were greatly pleased to
+contribute to the entertainment, for love, what they were in the habit
+of receiving large sums for from an impresario. Those Italian operatic
+artists most notorious for the extravagance of their demands when
+appearing in public, were pushing each other aside, so to speak, to be
+allowed to sing at Dr. Burney's, and really upon more than one occasion
+the contest between the generosity of a pair of the most distinguished
+of these singers must have been somewhat embarrassing to Dr. Burney.
+They were clearly singing against each other; and one of them, who
+invariably received fifty guineas for every contribution she made to a
+programme in public, insisted on singing no fewer than five songs, “all
+for love” (and to prove her superiority to her rival), upon a certain
+occasion at the Burneys'; so that really the little company ran a chance
+of being suffocated beneath the burden of flowers, as it were--the
+never-ending _fioriture_ of these generous artists--and Dr. Burney found
+himself in the position of the lion-tamer who runs a chance of being
+overwhelmed by the caresses of the carnivora who rush to lick his hands.
+
+The result of all this was extremely gratifying, and eminently
+profitable. Had Dr. Burney not been a great musician and shown by the
+publication of the first volume of the greatest History of Music the
+world had yet received, that he was worthy of being placed in the
+foremost ranks of scientific musicians, he would have run a chance of
+being placed only a little higher than the musical Cornelys of Soho
+Square, who gave their concerts, and entertained their friends, and made
+quite a reputation for some years before bankruptcy overtook them and
+the precincts of the Fleet became their headquarters.
+
+And now the beautiful Esther Burney was toying with the contents of her
+sister Fanny's work-basket, talking about her husband and his prospects,
+and inquiring what Mr. Garrick and James had to talk about in the room
+downstairs.
+
+“Pray speak in French to Fanny,” said Mrs. Burney. “I cannot get Lottie
+and Susan to do so as frequently as I could wish. You must remember that
+poor Fanny has had none of your advantages, and I do not want her to
+be talked of as the dunce of the family. She really is not a dunce, you
+know; in spite of her bad sight she really has done some very pretty
+sewing.”
+
+“I have seen it,” said Esther. “She works very neatly--more neatly than
+any of us.”
+
+Fanny blushed and smiled her thanks to her sister for the compliment.
+
+“What else is there left for me to do but to give all my attention to
+my needle?” she said. “I constantly feel that I am the dunce of the
+family--you are all so clever.”
+
+“It is well for many families that they include one useful member,” said
+her stepmother in a way that suggested her complete agreement with
+the girl's confession that she was the dunce of the family. A mother's
+acknowledgment that a girl is either useful or good-natured is
+practically an announcement that she is neither pretty nor accomplished.
+
+“And Fanny has many friends,” continued Mrs. Burney indulgently.
+
+“Which shows how kind people are, even to a dunce,” said Fanny, not
+bitterly, but quite good-humouredly.
+
+“But I am not sure that she should spend so much of her time writing to
+Mr. Crisp,” said the elder Mrs. Burney to the younger.
+
+“Oh, poor Daddy Crisp!” cried Fanny. “Pray, mother, do not cut him off
+from his weekly budget of news. If I fail to send him a letter he is
+really disconsolate. 'Tis my letters that keep him still in touch with
+the life of the town.”
+
+“Well, well, my dear Fanny, I shall not deprive you of your Daddy
+Crisp,” said her stepmother. “Poor Mr. Crisp must not be left to the
+tender mercies of Susan or Lottie. He is most hospitable, and his house
+at Chessington makes a pleasant change for us now and again, and he took
+a great fancy to you from the first.”
+
+“Daddy Crisp was always Fanny's special friend,” said Esther. “And I am
+sure that it is good practice for Fanny to write to him.”
+
+“Oh, she has long ago given up that childish nonsense,” cried the
+mother. “Poor Fanny made a pretty bonfire of her scribblings, and she
+has shown no weakness in that way since she took my advice in regard to
+them.”
+
+Fanny was blushing furiously and giving all her attention to her work.
+
+“She has still a sense of the guilt that attaches to the writing of
+stories, though I am sure that no one in this house remembers it against
+her,” said Esther with a laugh, as Fanny's blushes increased. “But
+indeed I had not in my mind Mr. Crisp's advantage to her in this way,
+but only in regard to her correspondence. She has become quite an expert
+letter-writer since he induced her to send him her budget, and indeed I
+think that good letter-writing is as much of an accomplishment in these
+careless days as good singing--that is ordinary good singing--the good
+singing that we hear from some of father's pupils--Queenie Thrale, _par
+exemple!_”
+
+“Your father is a good teacher, but the best teacher in the world cannot
+endow with a good singing-voice anyone who has not been so gifted by
+Nature,” said the elder lady. “'Tis somewhat different, to be sure, in
+regard to correspondence, and I do not doubt that Fanny's practice in
+writing to good Mr. Crisp will one day cause her to be regarded as one
+of the best letter-writers in the family, and that is something. It is
+a ladylike accomplishment, and one that is worth excelling in; it gives
+innocent pleasure to so many of her friends who live at a distance; and
+your father can always obtain plenty of franks, Mr. Charmier and Mr.
+Thrale are very obliging.”
+
+Fanny was a little fidgety while her eldest sister and her stepmother
+were discussing her in a tone of indulgence which was more humiliating
+than open reprobation would have been. But she knew that the truth
+was, that from her earliest years she was looked on as the dunce of the
+family, and she was so morbidly self-conscious that she was quite ready
+to accept their estimate of her. The silent member of a musical
+family soon finds out how she is looked on by the others; not with
+unkindness--quite the contrary--but only as if she were to be slightly
+pitied for her deficiency. But she had a secret or two, the treasuring
+of which in her heart prevented her from having any feeling of
+humiliation in the presence of her splendid sister, whom all the world
+sought to attract to their houses, especially when there were guests
+anxious to be entertained by the sweet singing of a handsome young
+woman with a very presentable young husband. Fanny had her secrets
+and cherished them with a fearful joy, for she knew that any day might
+remove either or both of them, and then there would be nothing left for
+her in the household but to put her heart into her needlework. But one
+cannot do needlework without needles, and if she were to put her heart
+into her work, and if every needle had a point, the result would, she
+knew, be a good many prickings.
+
+She trusted that she might never be condemned to put her heart into her
+needlework.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+|THEN Lieutenant Burney sauntered into the room and greeted Esther; but
+when Fanny inquired with some eagerness what had been the result of Mr.
+Garrick's fooling of poor Mr. Kendal, James was by no means so glib or
+amusing as Fanny expected him to be.
+
+“Psha!” he cried; “that Mr. Kendal is not worth powder and shot--at
+least not the weight of metal that Mr. Garrick can discharge--not in a
+broadside--Mr. Garrick is not given to broadsides--they are too clumsy
+for him--he is like Luke Boscawen, our chief gunner; he had a contempt
+for what he was used to term a blustering broadside, having a liking
+only for the working of his little brass swivel. He could do anything
+that he pleased with his little swivel. 'Ping!' it would go, when he
+had squinted along the sights, and the object he aimed at half a
+mile away--sometimes so small that we could scarce see it from our
+foretop--down it went. Boscawen could do what he pleased with it--the
+blunt nose of a whale rising to spout a mile away--the stem of a
+cocoa-nut palm on one of the islands when we were not sure of
+the natives and there was no time to climb the tree--that is the
+marksmanship of Mr. Garrick, and your Mr. Kendal was not worthy of an
+exercise of so much skill.”
+
+“Nobody seems too insignificant to be made a fool of by Mr. Garrick,”
+ said Mrs. Burney. “He is as happy when he has made a gruesome face and
+frightened a maid with a mop at the doorstep, as when he has stricken us
+with awe when the ghost enters in _Hamlet_, or when Macbeth declaims of
+the horror of the curse of sleeplessness that has been cast on him. That
+is why I said before he arrived that I was not sure that his influence
+upon you all is for good. He makes one lose one's sense of the right
+proportions and realities of life. Now is not that so, Hetty? I make
+no appeal to Fanny, for I know that she has ever been devoted to Mr.
+Garrick. Is it not true that she was used to frighten poor Lottie before
+she was ten by showing how Mr. Garrick frowned as the Duke of Gloster?”
+
+“I know that Fanny murdered us all in turn in our beds, assuring us that
+we were the Princes in the Tower, or some less real characters invented
+by herself,” said Esther. “But indeed if James tells us that Mr.
+Garrick's gun practice smashed the cocoa-nut that serves Mr. Kendal as a
+head, I should not grieve. Tell us what happened, James.”
+
+“Oh, 'twas naught worth words to describe,” said James. “The man came to
+take counsel of Daddy in regard to a jest that Mr. Garrick had, unknown
+to his victim, played off upon him, and Mr. Garrick so worked upon him
+that Daddy had no chance to speak. But Mr. Garrick made fools of us as
+well, for I give you my word, though we were in with him in his jest,
+he had us blubbering like boobies when he laid his hand on the fellow's
+shoulder and spoke nonsense in a voice quivering and quavering as though
+he were at the point of breaking down.”
+
+Mrs. Burney the elder shook her head.
+
+“That is what I do not like--that trifling with sacred things,” she
+said. “'Tis not decent in a private house--I would not tolerate it even
+in a playhouse, and I see that you are of my opinion, James, though you
+may have been dragged into the abetting of Mr. Garrick in whatever mad
+scheme he had set himself upon perfecting.”
+
+“Oh, for that matter we are all sorry when we have been merry at the
+expense of another, even though he be an elderly coxcomb such as that
+Mr. Kendal,” said James. “But enough--more than enough--of coxcomb
+Kendal! Tell us of the Duchess's concert, Hetty. Were the matrimonial
+duets as successful as usual?”
+
+Esther, who had been disappointed that her stepmother had not yet said
+a word about the concert of the previous night given by the Dowager
+Duchess of Portland, at which she and her husband had performed,
+brightened up at her brother's question.
+
+“The concert was well enough,” she replied with an affectation of
+carelessness. “'Twas no better than many that have taken place under
+this roof. Her Grace and her grandees were very kind to us--we had
+enough plaudits to turn the head of Gabrielli herself.”
+
+“Oh, the Gabrielli's head has been turned so frequently that one can
+never tell when it sits straight on her shoulders,” said James.
+
+“She was _very_ civil to us last evening,” said Esther. “Indeed, she
+was civil to everyone until the enchanter Rauzzini sang the solo
+from _Piramo e Tisbe_ and swept the company off their feet. The poor
+Gabrielli had no chance against Rauzzini.”
+
+“Especially in a company that numbered many ladies,” said James, with a
+laugh. “You remember what Sir Joshua told us that Dr. Goldsmith had once
+said of Johnson?--that in his argument he was like the highwayman: when
+his pistol missed fire he knocked one down with the butt.”
+
+“I heard that upon one occasion Dr. Johnson knocked a man down with a
+heavy book, but I cannot imagine his ever firing a pistol,” remarked
+Mrs. Burney, who had been used, when the wife of a straightforward
+merchant of Lynn, to take every statement literally, and had not yet
+become accustomed to the involved mode of speaking of the brilliant
+young Burneys.
+
+“You mean that Rauzzini--I don't quite perceive what you do mean by your
+reference to Dr. Goldsmith's apt humour,” said Esther.
+
+“I only mean that among such a company as assembled at the Duchess's, if
+he missed fire with his singing, he glanced around with those dark eyes
+of his and the ladies went down before him by the score,” replied James.
+“Do not I speak the truth, Fanny?” he added, turning quickly to where
+Fanny was searching with her short-sighted eyes close to her work-basket
+for some material that seemed to be missing.
+
+But she had clearly heard her brother's question, for she did not need
+to raise her head or to ask him to repeat it.
+
+“Oh, we are all the slaves of the nobil' signor,” she said, and
+continued her search in the basket.
+
+“From the way he talked to us last night it might be fancied that it was
+he who was the captive,” said Esther.
+
+“And I do not doubt that he is living in a state of constant captivity,”
+ laughed James. “Ay, or I should rather term it inconstant captivity,
+for I dare swear that those black eyes of his do a deal of roving in the
+course of a year--nay, in the course of a day. These singer fellows feel
+that 'tis due to their art, this moving the hearts of their hearers,
+by moving their own affections from heart to heart. The Rauzzini is, I
+fancy, like one of the splendid butterflies we came upon in the Straits,
+fluttering from flower to flower.”
+
+“I have heard no stories of his inconstancy, even from the Gabrielli
+when she was most envious of his plaudits,” said Esther, and she glanced
+at her sister, who was earnestly threading a needle.
+
+“You goose!” cried James to Esther. “Do you suppose that Gabrielli would
+tell you anything so greatly complimentary to him? In these days you
+cannot pay a man a greater compliment than to compare him to the fickle
+butterfly. You see that suggests a welcome from every flower.”
+
+“I protest that it is to sailors I have heard most compliments of that
+sort paid,” laughed Esther, and then, putting herself in a singing
+attitude before him, she lilted most delightfully:
+
+                   “Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more!
+
+                   Men were deceivers ever,
+
+                   One foot on sea-
+
+
+“ha, ha, brother James!
+
+
+                   and one on shore,
+
+                   To one thing constant never.
+
+“Now be advised by me, dear James, and do not attribute even in a
+cynical way, the vice of inconstancy to a singer, until you have left
+the Navy.”
+
+“I did not allude to it as a vice--rather as a virtue,” said James.
+“Just think of the hard fate of any girl to have such a person as a
+singer ever by her side!”
+
+He easily evaded the rush down upon him made by Hetty, and used his
+nautical skill to sail to the windward of her, as it were, until he had
+reached the door, whence he sent a parting shot at her.
+
+“You surely don't think that I hinted that your spouse was a singer,” he
+cried. “A singer! Oh, lud! I should be swaying away on all top ropes if
+I were to call the matrimonial duets singing.”
+
+He gave a shout of laughter as he caught the ball of wool which Esther
+threw at him, having picked it up from her stepmother's work-table. He
+returned it with a better aim, and before his sister could get a hand on
+it, he had shut the door, only opening it a little space a few seconds
+later to put in his head with a mocking word, withdrawing it at once,
+and then his foot was heard upon the stair, while he gave a sailor's
+version of Mr. Garrick's patriotic naval song:
+
+               Come, cheer up, my lads, 'tis to glory we steer.
+
+“He has gone before I had a chance of asking him to take a message
+to the cheesemonger,” said Mrs. Burney, calling out to him while she
+hurried after him out of the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+|THE moment the two sisters were alone, the elder said quickly in a low
+voice, leaning across the table:
+
+“We had a long talk with Signor Rauzzini, my dearest Fanny. I could not,
+of course, tell you before mother.”
+
+“You mentioned his name; but were you discreet?” said Fanny. “I think
+mother felt that you were going too far when you referred to his eyes.
+Mother most surely believes that the dark eyes of an Italian form a
+topic that should not be discussed except by our elders, and then only
+with bated breath and a fearful glance around lest a word should be
+overheard.”
+
+“His eyes--you know his eyes, Fanny?”
+
+“Oh!” said Fanny, with an inflection that was between a sigh and a moan.
+
+“You should have seen them while he spoke of you,” said Esther. “Talk
+of flashes of lightning!--Dear child, it seemed so singular to us that a
+mite like you should inspire a grand passion in such a man. You are not
+angry with us, I know, but it was so indeed.”
+
+“Why should I feel angry with you for feeling just what I do myself,
+only more intensely,” said Fanny. “Tis one of the greatest mysteries of
+life--the only mystery of life that I have yet faced--why a man who is
+as handsome as an archangel, and who possesses a voice that an archangel
+might envy, should so much as glance at an insignificant young woman
+like myself! Oh! 'tis no wonder that the notion amused you, dear Hetty.”
+
+“It only diverted us for a time, I assure you, my Fanny; it did not
+take us very long to perceive how it was no laughing matter, but, on
+the contrary, a very serious matter. Signor Rauzzini is, as I said, an
+enchanter, but do you not think that 'tis somewhat dangerous to--to----”
+
+“To play with fire? That is what is on your mind, dear--to allow
+the fire of his Roman eyes to play about me? Dangerous? I admit that
+wherever there is fire there is danger, especially when it flashes from
+such eyes.”
+
+“I am glad that you need no warning, child. As your elder sister I am
+pleased that--that--but no one in the house seems to think for a moment
+that the favour he has so distinctly shown to you can mean anything.
+Indeed, until last night, neither Charles nor I could believe----”
+
+Fanny laughed, half closing her short-sighted eyes with a curious
+expression as she looked at her sister.
+
+“It is only natural, my dear Hettina,” she said.
+
+“Have I ever ventured to suggest that I am other than the dunce of the
+family?”
+
+“You have always been absurdly humble, Fanny, and I have never hesitated
+to say so,” cried Esther. “I am sure that none of us could have made up
+such clever little pieces to act as you did when we were children. And
+as for writing, could any of us have so neatly copied out the padre's
+History as you did last year? Mr. Crisp, too--he never takes pleasure in
+any letters of the family except what you write for him.”
+
+“All perfectly true, my Hettina,” replied Fanny. “But where am I when
+the house is filled with visitors? You know that I am nobody--that all
+I pray for with all my heart is that no one will take any notice of me,
+and I think I can say that my prayer is nearly always granted.”
+
+“That is because you are so dreadfully--so absurdly shy,” said Esther.
+“You are the little mouse that is evermore on the look out for a hole
+into which you can creep and be safe from the observation of all eyes.
+You are ever trying to escape, unless when Mr. Garrick is here.”
+
+“Dear Hettina, I know my place--that is all. I have weak eyes, but quick
+ears, and I have heard strangers ask, when they have heard you sing and
+Susan play, who the little short-sighted girl in the corner is and what
+she means to do for the entertainment of the company. When they are
+assured that I am one of the clever Burney family they whisper an
+incredulous 'No?' They cannot believe that so insignificant a person as
+myself can be one of you.”
+
+“Tis your morbid self-consciousness, Fanny, that suggests so much to
+you.”
+
+“Oh, no; I was the dunce from the first. You know that while you could
+read any book with ease when you were six, I did not even know my
+letters when I was eight. Don't you remember how James made a jest of
+my thirst for knowledge by pretending to teach me the alphabet with the
+page turned upside down? And when you had gone to school at Paris and
+it was my turn as the next eldest, the wise padre perceived in a moment
+that the money would be much better spent upon Susan and Lottie, and
+they went to be educated while I remained at home in ignorance? The dear
+padre was right: he knew that I should have been miserable among bright
+girls away from home.”
+
+There was a pause before the elder sister said quite pathetically:
+
+“My poor Fanny! I wonder if you have not been treated shabbily among
+us.”
+
+“Not. I, my Hettina. I have always been treated fairly. I have had as
+many treats as any of you; when you were learning so much in Paris I
+have been learning quite a number of things at home. And one of the
+most important things I learned was that so brilliant a person as Signor
+Rauzzini could never be happy if married to so insignificant a person as
+Fanny Burney.”
+
+Esther gave a little sigh of relief.
+
+“Indeed I think that your conclusion is a right one, dear,” she said.
+“We both came to the conclusion--Charles and I--that it would be a huge
+misfortune if you should allow yourself to be attracted by the glamour
+that attaches to the appearance of such a man as the Rauzzini, though,
+mind you, I believe that he honestly fancies himself in love with
+you--oh, he made no disguise of it in talking with us last night. But I
+hoped that you would be sensible.”
+
+“Oh, in the matter of sense I am the equal of anyone in the family,”
+ said Fanny, laughing. “That I mean to make my one accomplishment--good
+sense. That is the precious endowment of the dunce of the clever
+family--good sense; the one who stands next to the dunce in the lack of
+accomplishments should be endowed with good nature. Good sense and good
+nature go hand in hand in plain grey taffeta, not down the primrose
+paths of life, but along the King's highway of every day, where they run
+no chance of jostling the simple foot-passengers or exciting the envy
+of any by the flaunting of feathers in their face. Good sense and good
+nature are best satisfied when they attract no attention, but pass on to
+obscurity, smiling at the struggle of others to be accounted persons of
+importance.”
+
+“Then you have indeed made up your mind to marry Mr. Barlowe?” cried
+Esther.
+
+Fanny laughed enigmatically.
+
+“Does it not mean rather that I have made up my mind not to marry Mr.
+Barlowe?” she cried.
+
+Esther looked puzzled: she was puzzled, and that was just what Fanny
+meant her to be.
+
+But then she looked piqued, as elder sisters do when puzzled by the
+words or the acts of the younger. What business have younger sisters
+puzzling their elders? Their doing so suggests pertness when the elders
+are unmarried, but sheer insubordination when they are married; and
+Esther was by no means willing at any time to abrogate the privileges of
+her position as a married woman.
+
+“I protest that I do not understand your meaning, Fanny,” she said,
+raising her chin in a way that gave her head a dignified poise. There
+was also a chill dignity in the tone of her voice.
+
+“Dear Hettina, I ask your pardon,” cried Fanny quickly. “I fear that
+I replied to you with a shameful unreasonableness. But indeed I am not
+sure that you had reason on your side when you assumed that because I
+was ready to acknowledge that it would not mean happiness to our dear
+Signor Rauzzini to marry an insignificant person like myself, I was
+therefore prepared to throw myself into the arms of Mr. Barlowe.”
+
+“I fancied that--that--but you may have another suitor in your mind
+whose name you have not mentioned to anyone.”
+
+“Why should it be necessary for me to have a suitor of any kind? Is it
+not possible to conceive of the existence of a young woman without a row
+of suitors in the background? I admit that the 'Odyssey' of Homer--you
+remember how I used to listen to your reading of Mr. Broome's
+translation to mother--would be shorn of much of its interest but for
+that background of suitors in one of the last books, but--well, my dear
+sister, I hold that the alternative song of life to the matrimonial duet
+is the spinster's solo, and it does not seem to me to be quite devoid of
+interest.”
+
+“Oh, I took it for granted----” began Esther, when Fanny broke in upon
+her.
+
+“Yes, I know what all the happily wedded ones take for granted,” she
+cried. “You assume that the wedded life is the only one worth living;
+but as we are told in the Bible that there is one glory of the sun and
+another of the moon, so I hold that I am justified in believing that if
+matrimony be celestial, spinsterhood is terrestrial, but a glory all the
+same, and not unattractive to me. I may be wise enough to content myself
+with the subdued charm of moonlight if it so be that I am shut off from
+the midday splendour of matrimony.”
+
+Esther did not laugh in the least as did her sister when she had
+spoken with an air of finality. She only made a little motion with her
+shoulders suggesting a shrug, while she said:
+
+“I hope you will succeed in convincing mother that your views are the
+best for the household; but I think you will have some difficulty in
+doing so, considering what a family of girls we are.”
+
+“I do not doubt that mother will be on the side of immediate matrimony
+and poor Mr. Barlowe,” said Fanny.
+
+“Why poor Mr. Barlowe?” cried Esther. “He is a young man of excellent
+principles, and he has never given his parents a day's trouble. It
+is understood that if he marries sensibly he will be admitted to a
+partnership in the business, so that----”
+
+“Principles and a partnership make for matrimonial happiness, I doubt
+not,” said Fanny. “And I doubt not that Dr. Fell had both excellent
+principles and an excellent practice; still someone has recorded in
+deathless verse that she--I assume the sex--did not like that excellent
+man.”
+
+“And you do not like Mr. Barlowe on the same mysterious grounds?” said
+Hetty.
+
+“Nay, I am not so unreasonable, I hope,” replied Fanny. “But--but--dear
+sister, I remember how I thought that the song of the linnet which was
+in our little garden at Lynn was the loveliest strain of the grove, and
+such was my belief until I awoke one night at Chessington and heard the
+nightingale.”
+
+“You are puzzling--singularly puzzling today,” said Esther frowning.
+“You have started two or three mystifying parables already. You told
+me some time ago as a great secret that you had been renewing your
+story-writing, in spite of your having burnt all that you had written
+for our edification--all that story--what was its name? The heroine was
+one Caroline Evelyn. You were ever an obedient child, or you would not
+have sacrificed your offspring at the bidding of our new mother, though
+the advice that she gave you was good, if you have not quite adhered to
+it. Novel writing is not for young ladies any more than novel reading,
+and certainly talking in parables is worse still. Well, I have no more
+time to spend over your puzzles.”
+
+“You would not find their solution to repay you, my dear,” said Fanny.
+
+“Still, I am pleased to learn that you take a sensible view of Signor
+Rauzzini and his heroics--but, indeed, I cannot see that Mr. Barlowe
+should not be considered, with his prospects--his father is a mercer in
+gold and silver lace, as you know----”
+
+“I have heard so--it is a profitable trade, I believe.”
+
+“None more so. It is impossible to believe that a time will ever come
+when gold and silver lace will cease to be worn by gentlemen.”
+
+“That would be an evil day for England as well as for Messieurs Barlowe,
+_père et fils_. But thank heaven it is not yet in sight. Good morning,
+dear sister; and be assured you have my thanks for your advice. But
+mind you keep my little secret about the writing. Good-bye. You can face
+mother boldly, knowing that you have carried out her commission to the
+letter, and very neatly and discreetly into the bargain.”
+
+“I would not have done so if her views had not been mine also; as for
+your writing--you may depend on my keeping your secret. But you will
+have to get the padre's permission to have it printed--that's something
+still in the far future, I suppose;”--and the elder sister stooped to
+kiss the younger--Fanny was not up to the shoulder of the beautiful and
+stately Esther.
+
+And so they parted.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+|FANNY BURNEY had been forced, for the first time, to make her sister
+aware of the fact that she knew she was looked on as the dunce of the
+brilliant Burney family. She could see that her doing so had startled
+her sister, for neither Esther nor any of the other girls had ever
+suggested to her that they thought of her as being on a different level
+from themselves, though it was tacitly allowed that it was a great
+pity that Fanny did not emulate them in taking pains to shine as it was
+expected the children of that estimable master of music, Dr. Burney,
+should shine, so as to make the house in that narrow little street off
+Leicester Fields attractive to its many distinguished visitors.
+
+Fanny had truly defined her place in the household. She had recognized
+her place for several years; but there was not the least suggestion of
+rancour in her tone when talking to her brilliant elder sister, for
+the simple reason that there was no bitterness in her heart against any
+member of the family for being cleverer than herself. Fanny took pride
+in the accomplishments of her sisters, and was quite content with her
+position in relation to them. She got on well with all of them, because
+she was fond of them all, and they were all fond of her. She had not
+rebelled when her father had sent her younger sisters to be educated
+in Paris, and had allowed her to pick up her own education as best she
+might in his own library; and it had been a great happiness to her to be
+allowed the privilege of copying out for the press the first volume of
+her father's “History of Music.” It was her stepmother who, finding
+out that Fanny had what Mrs. Burney called “a taste for writing,” had
+suggested that that was the legitimate channel in which such a taste
+should flow; and it was her stepmother who had induced her to make a
+bonfire of all her own writings--the scribblings of her girlhood that
+represented the foolish errant flow of her “taste for writing “: and
+now and again she had a consciousness of her own duplicity in failing
+to resist the impulse that had come upon her to do some more of what her
+mother termed her “girlish scribbling.”
+
+One of the guilty secrets that Fanny cherished was that when it was
+believed she was writing her long letters to her old friend Mr. Crisp,
+she had been composing a novel which was now about to be given to the
+world; the second was that Signor Rauzzini, the handsome young Roman
+singer with whom half the fashionable ladies of the town were in love,
+was in love with her.
+
+These were two secrets worth the cherishing, she knew; and the thought
+of them more than compensated her for the reflection that she was the
+dunce of the family, and that the unconscious tone of patronage adopted
+toward her by her elder sister and the dreadful compliments paid to her
+plain sewing, as though plain sewing represented the highest hopes that
+could reasonably be entertained in regard to her, were only to be looked
+for in the circumstances.
+
+The two secrets were closely bound up together, she knew. She had the
+deepest affection for Signor Rauzzini. How could she fail to return the
+feeling which the whisper of his musical voice had told her he had
+conceived for her? He loved her in spite of the fact that she was the
+least attractive member of the family--in spite of the fact that half
+the town was at his feet, and that he might have made his choice from
+among the best. He had chosen her whom no one else had ever noticed,
+with the exception of her father's old friend, Mr. Crisp, and--oh, yes
+(she laughed now, perceiving that she had done an injustice to the other
+person who had been attracted to her--mainly, she thought, on account of
+her reputation for plain sewing)--a young man named Thomas Barlowe, the
+excellent son of the well-known mercer of gold and silver lace, in the
+Poultry!
+
+Thinking of young Mr. Barlowe by the side of Signor Rauzzini,
+Fanny laughed again. She had so restricted an opinion of her own
+attractiveness that the tears actually came into her eyes for having
+given that derisive laugh as she compared the two young men; and she
+felt that she had been grossly ungrateful to young Mr. Barlowe; for even
+young Mr. Barlowe had a right to look above her level for a wife. As the
+daughter of a simple music master with a large family she could have no
+endowment so far as worldly goods were concerned; and she knew that the
+practical parents of young business men, as a rule, looked for their
+sons to marry, if not great fortunes, at least young women with a few
+thousands to their names.
+
+She felt that she had treated the condescending young Mr. Barlowe very
+badly in laughing at the poor figure he cut by the side of the angelic
+Roman singer--she had failed to resist the temptation to call Signor
+Rauzzini angelic in one of her letters to Mr. Crisp--and now,
+in thinking of Mr. Barlowe as a very worthy young man, she was
+unconsciously relegating him to a hopeless position as a lover. It
+is not the very worthy young men who are beloved by young women of a
+romantic temperament: if it were there would be very few romances
+left. But little Miss Burney desired only to ease the twinges of her
+conscience for having laughed at the thought of young Tommy Barlowe; and
+she thought that she had done the right thing in assuring herself that
+he was a very worthy person.
+
+And then she thought no more about him. She had a feeling that to give
+another thought to him when she had such a man as Signor Rauzzini
+to think about, would be a constructive act of treason in regard to
+Rauzzini. She had received many hints from her stepmother to the effect
+that all the family considered her to be a very fortunate young woman
+(all things taken into account) in having a chance of marrying the
+Thomas who seemed ready to pay his addresses to her; but though quite
+submissive to her stepmother in household matters, she was ready to face
+her with the “Never!” of the avowed rebel in the matter of consenting
+to wed the highly approved Thomas, and so she dismissed him from her
+thoughts, in favour of the man whom she loved.
+
+But thinking of the man whom she loved was by no means equivalent to
+passing into a region of unalloyed happiness. She had mystified her
+sister by the way in which she had spoken about Signor Rauzzini, and the
+seal had been put upon the mystery by her frank acknowledgment that she
+did not think a union between so distinguished a man as Rauzzini and so
+insignificant a person as herself was likely to be satisfactory.
+
+She had certainly allowed Hetty to go away believing that this was
+in her mind; and that was just what was in her mind when her thoughts
+turned from Thomas, whom she considered so estimable, to Rauzzini,
+whom she loved. She loved the Roman singer so truly that she had made a
+resolution never to consent to his marrying anyone so insignificant as
+she believed herself to be.
+
+She had no illusions regarding herself. She knew just how good-looking
+she was; she knew that by the side of any of her sisters she was almost
+plain; but that she had a pleasing, simple face of a very ordinary type.
+She knew that she could love with the truest devotion and she could
+trust herself not to change with time. But she felt that these were not
+beyond the traits of the ordinary young woman, and that they did
+not lift her from the level of insignificance to the level of Signor
+Rauzzini.
+
+She knew that she was at that moment an insignificant person; and she
+made no attempt to think of herself as otherwise.
+
+Yes; but she had heard of people--even young women--being insignificant
+one day, and the next springing to a pinnacle of fame to which all eyes
+looked up. How would it be if she were destined to reach in a moment
+a position that would place her on a level with the man of her
+thoughts--the man whose fame as a singer had caused him to be the centre
+round which every conversation in the most notable circles turned?
+Everyone was talking in praise of Rauzzini; and she herself thought of
+him as occupying a place on a height as far above her as King Cophetua's
+throne was above the marble steps at the foot of which the beggar maid
+had crouched; but in her mind there was the possibility that her name
+might one day be spoken by the world in connection with an achievement
+that would raise her from the insignificance of Fanny Burney to the
+importance of Signor Rauzzini, and prevent people from asking what on
+earth had induced so glorious a person as he to make her his wife!
+
+That was the secret dream which filled the imagination of this
+imaginative young woman--the same dream as comes to so many young women
+who have written the last chapter of a book and sent it forth for the
+world to receive with acclaim--the dream of fame--of immortality! She
+had written a novel and it was about to be given to the world, if the
+world would have it, and upon its success her happiness depended. If
+it brought her fame, it would place her by the side of the man whom
+she loved; but if it failed, then she would remain a person of no
+significance, and quite unworthy of sharing the honours which were
+showered upon her lover. She had imagination, and this faculty it was
+that made her more than doubtful of the success of King Cophetua's rash
+experiment. She felt sure that King Cophetua had now and again, turning
+suddenly round, caught one of his courtiers with his tongue in his
+cheek when his Majesty was entering the throne-room with his shy and
+insignificant Queen by his side, and that the Queen had occasionally
+overheard the whispers of her maids of honour, when they did not know
+she was at hand, asking one another what on earth the King had seen in
+her that induced him to make her his consort. Little Miss Burney had
+long ago made up her mind that the union of King Cophetua and his beggar
+maid was far from being a happy one--that the King looked around him and
+saw several princesses of great beauty and quite devoid of shyness who
+were fully acquainted with the convenances of his court and would not,
+if he had married any one of them, have made the mistakes which she was
+sure the young person whom he had elevated had fallen into, causing him
+constant irritation.
+
+Little Miss Burney had resolved that she would never play the part of
+a crowned beggar maid. The man whom she loved had won fame for himself,
+and she would not go to him unless she, too, had at least made such
+a name for herself as should prevent her from feeling herself in the
+position of the beggar maid whom King Cophetua had raised to his side.
+Little Miss Burney resolved that although she could scarcely expect to
+go to her lover wearing purple robes embroidered with gold, she could,
+at any rate, refrain from wearing beggars' rags. She had her ambitions,
+and she felt that they were not ignoble, but that they made for the
+happiness of the man she loved, and who had been gracious enough to love
+her--the least attractive member of the family.
+
+But after she had sat for some time with her hands lying idle on the
+sempstress' work at which she had been engaged on the departure of her
+sister--after her imagination had carried her much farther away than she
+intended it should, she was sensible of a return to the cold world from
+which she had soared. Her heart, which had begun to beat quickly when
+Hetty had told her how the divine Rauzzini had spoken of her, sank
+within her as she seemed to hear a voice asking who was she that she
+should hope to reach by the publication of that story which she had been
+writing by stealth and at odd times during the past three years, even
+the smallest measure of fame that would compare with that of Signor
+Rauzzini? What fame attached to the writing of a novel in comparison
+with that achieved by the enchantment of a singer who had power to move
+the hearts of men and women as it pleased him? Orpheus--ah, what
+fame could compare with the fame of Orpheus, the singer? His was a
+heaven-sent gift. What was her little talent compared with such a gift?
+If she had the ability even to make music such as one of her sisters
+could bring forth from the keys of the piano, she would have a better
+chance of being accounted worthy of a place beside Signor Rauzzini than
+if her novel found its way to the shelves of many readers. The writing
+of a novel was a poor achievement--nay, in the opinion of a good many
+people, including her own stepmother--a most practical woman--it was
+something to be ashamed of; and Fanny herself, thinking over all
+the novels written by women which she herself had read--most of them
+surreptitiously--was disposed to agree with her. That was why she had
+kept as a secret for more than three years the fact that she was trying
+to write a novel. Her father knew nothing of it, and her stepmother was
+equally uninformed. Even her old friend Mr. Crisp, to whom she wrote
+voluminous letters week after week, and to whom she gave her confidence
+on many matters, had no suspicion that she had written her novel.
+
+She had thought it prudent to keep this matter hidden from them, for she
+did not doubt that if she had told any one of them of her project, she
+would never have a chance of realizing it. They would certainly have
+pronounced against such a proceeding even before a page of her novel
+came to be written.
+
+And yet it was the thought that this novel was shortly to be published
+that had caused her to feel that she was drawing nearer to her lover.
+
+As she reflected upon this, sitting idly over her work when her sister
+had left the house, her tears began to fall, not in a torrent, but
+slowly dropping at intervals upon the fabric which she had been sewing.
+She felt very sad, very hopeless, very lonely.
+
+Nor could it be said that the sudden return of Mrs. Burney meant a
+return of happiness to the girl.
+
+Mrs. Burney did not consider that Fanny had made satisfactory progress
+with her work, and did not hesitate to express her opinion to this
+effect. But she was not imprudently unkind; for young Mr. Barlowe had
+just written to her, begging permission to pay his respects to Mrs.
+Burney and her daughter that evening, and she meant that Fanny should be
+in a good humour to entertain him.
+
+Mrs. Burney had great hopes that the question of Fanny's future--a
+constant topic of conversation and consultation between her and her
+husband--might be settled by a series of visits of young Mr. Barlowe.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+|YOUNG Mr. Barlowe took himself very seriously, and he had every right
+to do so; for a more serious young man was not to be found in business
+in London. He had been brought up to look upon everything in the world
+as having an intimate connection with business, and it had always been
+impressed upon him that business meant the increase of money, and that
+there was hardly anything in the world worth giving a thought to apart
+from the increase of money. It never occurred to any of his preceptors
+to suggest that the advantage of increasing one's money lay in the
+splendid possibilities of spending it. The art of making money forms
+the whole curriculum of a business man's education; he is supposed to
+require no instruction in the art of spending it. Thus it is that, by
+attending only to one side of the question, so many business men lead
+much less interesting lives than they might, if they had it in their
+power to place themselves under the guidance of a trustworthy professor
+of the Art of Spending. But no Chair of Spending has yet been provided
+at any University, nor is there any instructor on this important branch
+of business education at any of the City schools, hence it is that the
+sons of so many money-making men turn out spendthrifts. They have been
+taught only one side of the great money question, and that the less
+important side into the bargain. In making an honest endeavour to master
+the other side, usually on the death of a father or a bachelor uncle,
+both looked on as close-fisted curmudgeons, a good many young men find
+themselves in difficulties.
+
+Young Mr. Barlowe, on being introduced to the Burney family, through the
+circumstance of Mrs. Burney's first husband having done business with
+Mr. Barlowe the elder, found himself in a strange atmosphere. He had
+never before imagined the existence of a household where music and plays
+and books were talked about as if these were the profitable topics of
+life. Previously he had lived in a house where the only profitable topic
+was thought to be the Profits. At his father's table in the Poultry the
+conversation never travelled beyond the Profits. The likelihood of a
+rise in the price of gold or silver sometimes induced the father to
+increase his stock of bullion without delay, and then if the price rose,
+he could conscientiously charge his customers for the lace at such a
+rate per ounce as gave him a clear five per cent, extra profit; and it
+was upon such possibilities that the conversation in the Poultry parlour
+invariably turned.
+
+And here were these Burneys talking with extraordinary eagerness and
+vivacity upon such matters as the treatment by a singer named Gabrielli
+of one of the phrases in a song of Mr. Handel's, beginning: “Angels ever
+bright and fair”! For himself, young Mr. Barlowe thought that there
+was no need for so much repetition in any song. “Angels ever bright and
+fair, Take, oh take me to your care”--that was the whole thing, as it
+seemed to him; and when that request had been made once he thought it
+was quite enough; to repeat it half a dozen times was irritating and
+really tended to defeat its purpose. Only children in the nursery
+kept reiterating their requests. But he had heard Dr. Burney and
+his son-in-law, Esther's husband, discuss the Gabrielli's apparently
+unauthorized pause before the second violins suggested (as it appeared
+to the younger musician) a whisper of assent floating from the heaven;
+and all the members of the family except Fanny had taken sides in the
+controversy, as though a thing like that had any bearing upon the daily
+life of the City!
+
+Thomas Barlowe was amazed at the childishness of the discussion, and he
+was particularly struck by the silence of Fanny on this occasion. She
+was silent, he was sure, because she agreed with him in thinking it
+ridiculous to waste words over a point that should be relegated to the
+nursery for settlement.
+
+“They seem pleasant enough people in their way,” he told his mother
+after his first visit. “But they know nothing of what is going on in the
+world--the real world, of which the Poultry is the centre. It might
+be expected that the young man who is a naval officer and has seen the
+world would know something of the import of the question when I asked
+him what direction he thought gold would move in; but he only winked and
+replied, 'Not across my hawse, I dare swear,' and the others laughed as
+if he had said something humorous.”
+
+“Mayhap it was humorous,” suggested his mother gravely.
+
+“It would be sheer ribaldry for anyone to jest upon such a subject
+as the fluctuations in the price of silver,” said Thomas slowly.
+“Lieutenant Burney must surely know how serious a matter would be a fall
+of a fraction of a crown when we have bought heavily in prospect of
+a rise. But Miss Burney looks to be different from the others of the
+family. I have told you that while her father, and indeed all the rest,
+were talking excitedly on that ridiculous point in Mr. Handel's music,
+she sat in silence. She is short-sighted, but I noticed more than once
+that she had her eyes fixed on me, as if she had found something to
+study in me. She is, I think, a steady, observant young lady. When Mrs.
+Burney said she hoped that I would visit them again, I think I perceived
+a sort of interest on Miss Burney's face as she awaited my answer.”
+
+Thomas had resolved not to frustrate the hopes that Mrs. Burney had
+expressed as to his paying another visit--as a matter of fact he had
+come three times, and on every occasion he had devoted himself to
+Fanny--to be more exact than Mrs. Burney, who had described his
+attentions in this phrase, he had passed his time subjecting her to a
+sort of catechism with a view to discover if she would make him the
+sort of wife that would suit him. It appeared that the result of his
+inquisition was satisfactory, and that his attentions were gradually
+becoming intentions; but Mrs. Burney had never gone farther than to
+comment favourably to Fanny upon the young man's steadiness, and to
+suggest that the young woman whom he might choose to be his wife would
+be fortunate, steady young men with good prospects in the City being far
+from abundant. She had never gone so far as to ask Fanny if she would
+accept good fortune coming to her in such a form; though Fanny knew very
+well that she had asked Esther to sound her on this point.
+
+How far Esther's mission was accounted successful by their stepmother,
+Fanny, of course, could not guess; but at any rate Thomas was to pay a
+visit after dinner, and Fanny felt that it was necessary for her to be
+discreet. It had been very interesting for her to study Thomas, with the
+possibility before her of writing a second novel, in which some of
+his traits of character might be introduced with advantage; but she
+perceived how there was a likelihood of her course of study being paid
+for at too high a rate; so she resolved--to be discreet beyond her
+ordinary exercise of a virtue which she displayed at all times of her
+life.
+
+So Thomas came to the house in St. Martin's Street while tea was
+being served in the drawingroom, to the accompaniment of a duet on
+the piano--Dr. Burney had quickly perceived the merits of this new
+instrument over that of the harpsichord--between Susan and her father.
+Very close to the instrument, pressing the receiver of his ear-trumpet
+to the woodwork of the case, sat Sir Joshua Reynolds, while his
+sister--a lady of middle age who was gradually relinquishing the idea
+that she, too, could paint portraits--was suffering Mrs. Burney
+to explain to her the advantages of Lynn over London as a place of
+residence for people anxious to economize.
+
+Fanny was at the table where the teapot and urn were being drawn on, and
+close to her sat her brother James, with a volume like an account-book
+lying face down on the table while he drank his tea.
+
+The progress of the duet was not arrested by the entrance of young Mr.
+Barlowe, but he looked in the direction of the instrument when he had
+shaken hands with Mrs. Burney and bowed to Miss Reynolds. It was obvious
+that he was mystified by seeing Sir Joshua's ear-trumpet pressed against
+the sound-conducting case of the piano. He was still looking at it with
+curious eyes while he greeted Fanny with the concentrated politeness of
+the Poultry.
+
+Lieutenant Burney roused himself from his lolling attitude when he saw
+the puzzled look on the young man's face, and he obligingly endeavoured
+to explain away the mystery.
+
+“'Tis no wonder that you are amazed, Mr. Barlowe,” he said in a
+whisper. “I own that when it was first brought to my notice I thought it
+extraordinary. A marvellous instrument, is it not, that is played by the
+ear instead of by the mouth? And yet you must own that some of the notes
+it produces are very fine--much more delicate than could be produced by
+any other means.”
+
+“I do not profess to be a judge of music, sir,” said Thomas; “but I
+know what pleases me.” Fanny wondered how often she had heard that
+same boast--the attempt of complete ignorance to be accredited with the
+virtue of frankness. “Yes, I own that I consider the music monstrous
+pretty; but with the ear--that is what puzzles me: it seems a simple
+trumpet, such as is blown by the mouth.”
+
+“Pray do not let my father hear you say that, Mr. Barlowe,” whispered
+James. “That instrument is his fondest. You know that he has written a
+'History of Music'?”
+
+“All the world knows that, sir,” replied Thomas gallantly. “I have not
+yet found time to read it myself, but----”
+
+“Neither have I, sir; but I understand that that instrument which seems
+new to such simpletons as you and I is really as ancient as the pyramids
+of Egypt--nay, more so, for my father discovered in his researches that
+this was the identical form of the first instrument made by Tubal Cain
+himself.”
+
+“Is't possible? In our Family Bible there is a picture of Tubal Cain,
+but he is depicted blowing through a conch shell.”
+
+“A shell! Ah! such was the ignorance of the world on these matters
+before my father wrote his History. But he has managed to clear up
+many points upon which complete ignorance or very erroneous opinions
+prevailed. It is not generally known, for instance, that Tubal had his
+second name given to him by reason of his habitually murdering every
+musical piece that he attempted to play.”
+
+“But he was the inventor, was he not?”
+
+“Quite true, Mr. Barlowe. But that fact, you must admit, only made his
+offence the more flagrant. So the inscriptions on the rocks assert; and
+there are some sensible people nowadays who believe that Tubal's second
+and very suggestive name should be coupled with the names of many more
+recent performers on musical instruments.”
+
+“You do not allude to the gentleman who is playing that new
+instrument--I mean that very ancient instrument--by the side of Dr.
+Burney?”
+
+“Oh, surely not. That gentleman is one of the most notable performers of
+our age, Mr. Barlowe. I ask you plainly, sir, have you ever seen, even
+at a raree show, a musician who could play an instrument with his ear
+and produce such a good effect? You can easily believe that a vast
+amount of ingenuity is needed to produce even the simplest sound in that
+way.”
+
+“If I had not it demonstrated before my eyes I should not believe it
+possible. I protest, sir, that the effect is very pretty. Is't not so,
+Miss Burney?”
+
+The young man turned to Fanny, who was doing her best to refrain from an
+outburst of laughter; she could not trust herself to put her cup of tea
+to her lips while her brother was continuing his fooling. She thought
+that it was scarcely good manners of him to play such a jest upon a
+visitor, though she knew the ward-room code of manners which her naval
+brother had acquired was very liberal on such points. She was about to
+give Mr. Barlowe a hint of the truth of Sir Joshua's ear-trumpet, but
+James, perceiving her intention, defeated it by saying in a tone above a
+whisper:
+
+“Cain--we mentioned Cain, did we not, Mr. Barlowe? Oh, yes; and it must
+have occurred to you how strangely customs have altered during the past
+ten years--how strongly opposed people are to-day to principles that
+were accepted without demur so recently as in our own boyhood. You take
+my meaning, sir?”
+
+Mr. Barlowe did not look as if he quite grasped Lieutenant Burney's
+drift, and Fanny felt it incumbent on her to prevent further fooling (as
+he thought she would) by remarking:
+
+“My brother means, Mr. Barlowe, that 'tis remarkable how many changes
+are being made in many ways--but what he had in his mind was, of course,
+in respect to the forte-piano--on which my father and sister are
+playing a duet: only a few years ago no one thought to improve upon
+the harpsichord; and yet my father asserts that in a short time the
+harpsichord will be no more than a curiosity--that the forte-piano--or
+as we simply call it now, the piano, will take its place in every
+household. That is what you meant, was it not, James?”
+
+“I was thinking of Cain and his profession--Cain, the good old murderer,
+rather than of Tubal Cain, who was perhaps equally criminal in inventing
+the liveliest source of human torture,” replied James gravely. “Yes,
+I was thinking--suggested by the mention of Cain--how strange people
+nowadays would regard my father's intentions regarding my future when
+he assumed that I should have the best chance for cultivating my bent,
+which he had early recognized in me, by sending me, before it became too
+late, to be educated for the profession to an accomplished murderer.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+|YOUNG Mr. Barlowe started so violently that he spilt his tea over his
+knees; for just before James had uttered his last sentence the music
+stopped, but as it had been somewhat loud in the final bars, and James
+had raised his voice in the same proportion, the inertia of his tone
+defied any attempt to modulate it, so that it was almost with a shout
+that he had declared that he had been sent to be educated in his
+profession to a murderer.
+
+Fanny was too much overcome by the ludicrous aspect of the contretemps
+to be able to laugh. Her brother, who had had no intention of startling
+anyone in the room except young Mr. Barlowe, hung his head and was
+blushing under the South Sea tan of his skin; Sir Joshua Reynolds had
+heard nothing after the crashing chords that concluded the duet; but
+poor Miss Reynolds almost sprang from her chair in horror.
+
+Mrs. Burney was very angry.
+
+“You have been making a fool of yourself as usual, James,” she cried.
+“Pray give Mr. Barlowe another cup of tea, Fanny. I vow that 'tis a
+shame for you, James Burney, to treat such a company as though you were
+on the deck of the _Adventure_ facing your South Sea savages.”
+
+But Dr. Burney, with his customary tact, raised a hand half reprovingly
+toward his wife.
+
+“Give Mr. Barlowe his cup, and then pass one to me, Fanny,” he said,
+rising from the piano. “You know that James has spoken no more than
+the truth, my dear,” he added, smiling at his wife. “I can see that the
+rascal has been fooling while our backs were turned to him; but we know
+that he spoke no more than the truth--at least in that one sentence
+which he bawled out for us. He was, indeed, sent to a school where he
+was placed under an accomplished usher who was some time after hanged
+as a murderer. You see, madam----” he had turned, still smiling, to Miss
+Reynolds, thereby doing much to restore her confidence in the sanity of
+the family--“You see that James was from the first so desperate a young
+rascal that, just as a boy who is an adept at figures is educated for
+the counting-house, and one who spends all the day before he is six
+picking out tunes on the harpsichord should be apprenticed, as I was, to
+a musician, so we thought our James should be sent whither he could
+be properly grounded in the only profession at which he was likely to
+excel. But, alas! the poor usher was carried off by the police, tried at
+the next assizes and duly hanged before James had made much progress in
+his studies; but I believe that a few years in the navy does as much
+for a youth who has made up his mind to succeed, as a protracted course
+under a fully qualified criminal.”
+
+Miss Reynolds looked as if she were not quite certain that, in spite of
+his smiles, Dr. Burney was jesting; but when Mrs. Burney, seeing how her
+husband's mock seriousness was likely to produce a wrong impression upon
+plain people, said:
+
+“You must recall hearing about Mr. Eugene Aram some years back, Mrs.
+Reynolds,” that lady showed that her mind was greatly relieved.
+
+“I recall the matter without difficulty,” she said. “The man was usher
+at the grammar school at Lynn.”
+
+“And no school had a more learned teacher than that unfortunate man,”
+ said Sir Joshua. Young Mr. Barlowe had been divided in his amazement
+at what Dr. Burney had said, and at the sight of Sir Joshua holding the
+trumpet to his ear, though the instrument remained mute. He had never
+found himself within the circle of so startling a society. He wished
+himself safe at home in the Poultry, where people talked sense and made
+no attempt to blow a trumpet with their ears.
+
+“James had acquired quite a liking for poor Aram,” said Dr. Burney,
+“and, indeed, I own to having had a high opinion of the man's ability
+myself. It was to enable him to purchase books necessary for his studies
+in philology that he killed his victim--a contemptible curmudgeon named
+Johnstone. I fear that all our sympathy was on the side of the usher.”
+
+“I was greatly interested in Mr. Aram, and read a full account of his
+trial,” said Sir Joshua.
+
+“I wonder that a man of so sensitive a mind as his did not so brood over
+his crime as to cause suspicion to fall on him earlier than it did.”
+
+“Only upon one occasion it seemed that he was affected by an incident
+which might possibly have awakened some suspicion in the mind of a
+person given to suspicion,” said Dr. Burney.
+
+“James had been presented with a copy of the translation of Gessner's
+'Death of Abel'--everyone was going mad about the book that year--more
+copies were sold of it than of any translation since Pope's 'Homer,' but
+I fancy James found it dull enough reading. He had it on his knee trying
+to get through a page or two in case the kind donor might question him
+upon it, when the usher came up. He took the volume in his hand and
+glanced at the title. Down the book fell from his grasp and he hurried
+away without a word--'as if he had been stung,' James said, in telling
+us about it, to excuse the broken cover. Of course, I never gave a
+thought to the matter at the time; but when I heard of the arrest of
+Eugene Aram the following year, I recalled the incident.”
+
+“I should like to make a picture of the scene, and name it 'Remorse,'”
+ said Reynolds.
+
+(_He never did make such a picture; many years had passed, and Lieutenant
+Burney had become an Admiral before his narration of the incident
+touched the imagination of a poet who dealt with it in verse that has
+thrilled a good many readers._)
+
+Thomas Barlowe was not greatly thrilled by the story as told by Dr.
+Burney. He seemed rather shocked to find himself at the table with
+someone who had been taught by a murderer. He glanced furtively at James
+Burney, who had remained silent since the contretemps that had prevented
+him from perfecting his fooling of Thomas; and the result of Thomas's
+scrutiny at that moment was to cause Thomas a tremor; for who could say
+what fearful knowledge Lieutenant Burney might have acquired during
+his intercourse with the murderer--knowledge which might jeopardize the
+safety of a simple visitor like himself? Thomas felt that no ordinary
+person could be accounted absolutely safe in a company that included a
+tall, able-bodied young naval man who had begun his education under a
+murderer and had gone to complete it among the cannibals of the South
+Seas; and, in addition, an elderly gentleman who fancied that he could
+bring any sound out of a trumpet by pressing it to his ear instead of
+his lips, and had shown himself ready to extol the scholarship of any
+man who had been hanged.
+
+But then Thomas looked at Fanny, and she pleased him more than ever. She
+was so demure, so modest, so shy. She had a very pretty blush, and she
+did not play on the piano. It was a thousand pities, he felt, that such
+a girl should be compelled to remain in such uncongenial companionship.
+All the time that Dr. Burney and his other daughter were playing a
+second duet, and the silly gentleman holding the bell of his trumpet
+to the case of the piano, still fondly believing that he was also a
+performer with the mouth-piece in his ear, Thomas Barlowe was feeling
+wave after wave of pity passing over him for the unhappy position of
+the shy girl in the midst of so doubtful a household. Before long his
+compassion for her so stimulated his imagination that he began to think
+of the possibility of his rescuing her--he began to think of himself in
+the character of a hero--he did not remember the name of any particular
+hero who had carried off a young woman who was placed in a similar
+situation to that occupied by Miss Burney; but he had no doubt that more
+than one romance was founded upon the doings of such a man as he felt
+himself fully qualified to be, if he made up his mind to assume such a
+rôle.
+
+As the music continued--it was an arrangement of Bach's _Orfèo_--Thomas
+Barlowe became more and more resolute. He would be the heroic person who
+should appear at the right moment and achieve the emancipation of that
+sweet and shy girl, who by no fault of hers was forced to live in that
+house and remain, if she could, on friendly terms with her father and
+sisters, who kept strumming on the piano, and with her brother, who was
+ready to boast of having received the rudiments of his education from
+a murderer. All that he needed was the opportunity to show his heroism,
+and he did not doubt that when he set his mind to work on the matter, he
+would have such an opportunity.
+
+If anyone had whispered in his ear that his inward consciousness of
+being equal to the doing of great deeds was solely due to the music
+which was being played, and to which he was unwillingly listening, he
+would have been indignant. He would have thought it preposterous had it
+been suggested to him that the effect of that strumming was to make him
+feel more like a god than a man--to be ready to face hell for the love
+of a woman, as Jean Sebastian Bach imagined Orpheus doing for Eurydice.
+But Jean Sebastian Bach knew what he was about when he had composed his
+_Orfèo_, and Dr. Burney was quite equal to the business of interpreting
+his aims, and of urging his daughter Susan to join with him in
+impressing them upon even so unimpressionable a nature as that of Thomas
+Barlowe; so that while Thomas Barlowe believed that this music was one
+of the most petty of all human interests, it was making him think
+such thoughts as had never before entered his mind--it was giving him
+aspirations from which in ordinary circumstances he would have shrunk.
+
+The master musician and his interpreters were making sport of him,
+leading him if not quite into the region of the heroic, at least to the
+boundary of that region, and supplying him with a perspective glass, as
+the Interpreter did to the Pilgrims, by the aid of which he might see
+the wonderful things that had been beyond his natural scope.
+
+And that was how it came about that he gazed into Miss Burney's eyes and
+pressed her hand at parting with a tenderness he had never previously
+associated with his leave-taking. He felt sure that Miss Burney would
+understand what he meant, though he knew that he would have difficulty
+in expressing it all to her in words; for the effect of the music was
+to make him feel that he could put so much feeling into a look, into
+a squeeze of the hand, as would touch the heart of any young woman and
+cause her to be certain that she might trust him though all other help
+might fail her.
+
+That was the effect which the heroic music had upon him, though he did
+not know it; it made him feel willing to face hell for her sake at that
+moment, and even until he had walked through more than a mile of the
+network of streets that lay between Leicester Fields and the Poultry.
+
+But the effect of such an intoxicant as music upon such a nature as his
+is not lasting. Before he had reached Cheapside his own individuality
+was beginning to assert itself; and he wondered if he had not gone too
+far for discretion--discretion being, according to his reckoning, the
+power to withdraw from a position that might compromise him. And before
+he reached his home he had got the length of wondering how he had so far
+forgotten himself as to yield to that compromising impulse represented
+by the gaze and the squeeze. He could not for the life of him understand
+what had come over him at that moment; for he had by no means satisfied
+himself that Miss Burney was the young woman who would make him
+comfortable as his wife. He still thought highly of her on account of
+her modesty and her dainty shyness, but marriage was a serious matter,
+and he was not sure that he should take her for his wife.
+
+On the whole, he felt that he had had a very trying evening--between the
+Lieutenant who had so nearly qualified to practise as a murderer, and
+the father and daughter who seemed ready to strum their duets until
+midnight, to say nothing of the foolish gentleman who tried to play
+the trumpet with his ear; and Thomas made up his mind that he would not
+trust himself into the midst of so unusual a circle until he was certain
+that he wanted to marry the young woman whose hand he had, for some
+reason or other, pressed at parting.
+
+But Mrs. Burney had noticed much more clearly than Fanny had done the
+expression that the face of Thomas Barlowe had worn when he had looked
+into the girl's eyes; she had measured to the fraction of a second the
+duration of his holding of her hand beyond the time essential for
+the discharge of the ordinary courtesy of a hand-shake; and she was
+satisfied that Thomas was progressing in his wooing of the least
+attractive and certainly the least accomplished member of the family.
+The good woman thought, however, that it was rather a pity that her
+husband and Susan had persisted in the practice of their duets; for by
+doing so they had not given a chance to Thomas and Fanny of being alone
+together.
+
+But, looking back upon the incidents of the evening, she came to the
+conclusion that, on the whole, she had no reason to complain of the
+progress that was being made in the young man's wooing. She was no
+believer in undue haste in this respect; and had not Thomas looked into
+Fanny's eyes at the close of the evening? Yes, at the close; and that
+proved to her satisfaction that he had not suffered discouragement by
+the maladroit conversation about Mr. Eugene Aram. The unhappy episode
+upon which her husband had dwelt with far too great attention to its
+details, was one to which she herself had never alluded; for at Lynn,
+where she had lived all her life previous to being married to Dr.
+Burney, the Eugene Aram episode was regarded as a scandal to be ignored
+by those of the inhabitants whose children had attended the school where
+he had been usher. It was a distinctly favourable sign of the impression
+made upon young Mr. Barlowe by Fanny, that he had gazed into her eyes in
+spite of his having been made aware of the connection of the family with
+the tragedy of that wretched schoolmaster. Mrs. Burney took no account
+of the effect of Bach's marvellous music upon a young man who was a
+lover in the rough. In this respect, as has been indicated, she did not
+differ from the young man himself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+|IT was at the Pantheon in the Oxford Road a fortnight later, that Mrs.
+Thrale, the brewer's lively wife, had an opportunity of shining, by a
+display of that _esprit_ which caused Mr. Garrick to affirm solemnly
+that if she had gone upon the stage she would have been a dangerous
+rival to Mistress Clive; and Fanny Burney, with her father and Mr.
+Linley, the father of the beautiful Mrs. Sheridan, was a witness of the
+ease with which the lady sparkled as she described for the benefit of
+the circle how Mr. Garrick's jest at the expense of poor Mr. Kendal and
+the Widow Nash had set all the Wells laughing. She imitated Mr. Garrick
+to his face, in offering his congratulations to Mr. Kendal and so
+setting the ball a-rolling until within an hour the poor, silly
+gentleman had been offered the felicitations of half the Wells upon his
+engagement to Widow Nash. Mrs. Thrale re-enacted with great gravity
+the part she had played in Mr. Garrick's plot, and then she hastened
+to imitate Mrs. Cholmondeley's part, and even Mr. Sheridan's, upon that
+lively morning at Tunbridge Wells.
+
+But there was much more to tell, and Mrs. Thrale took very good care to
+abate nothing of her narrative; it gave her so good a chance of acting,
+and it gave Mr. Garrick so good a chance of complimenting her before all
+the company.
+
+“Oh, I vow that we played our parts to perfection,” she cried, “and
+without any rehearsal either. But then what happened? You will scarce
+believe it, Mr. Garrick has always borne such a character for scrupulous
+honour in his dealings with his companies, but indeed 'tis a fact that
+our manager decamped as soon as he found that the poor man had been
+teased to the verge of madness by the fooling he had started--off he
+went, we knew not whither; leaving no message for any of us. He was not
+to be found by noon; and what happened by dinner-time? Why, the poor
+gentleman whom we had been fooling had also fled!”
+
+“That was indeed too bad of Mr. Kendal,” said Dr. Burney.
+
+“'Twas too inconsiderate of him truly,” cried Mrs. Thrale. “'Tis no
+great matter if the manager of the playhouse runs away when his play
+is produced--you remember that Mr. Colman hurried off to Bath to escape
+lampooners when the success of Dr. Goldsmith's comedy _She Stoops to
+Conquer_ had proved to all the town that he was no judge of a play;
+but for the one who has been made the object of such a jest as ours to
+escape without giving us a chance of bringing our teasing to a fitting
+climax is surely little short of infamous.”
+
+“And when did you design the fitting climax to arrive, madam?” asked one
+of the circle.
+
+“Why, when the gentleman and lady should come face to face in the
+Assembly Rooms, to be sure,” replied Mrs. Thrale. “We were all there to
+await the scene of their meeting; and you can judge of our chagrin when
+only the lady appeared.”
+
+“We can do so, indeed,” said Mrs. Darner, who was also in the circle. “I
+can well believe that you were furious. When one has arranged a burletta
+for two characters 'tis infamous when only one of the actors appears on
+the stage.”
+
+Mrs. Thrale smiled the smile of the lady who knows that she is
+harbouring a surprise for her friends and only awaits the right moment
+to spring it upon them--a cat to be let out of the bag at the pulling of
+a string.
+
+“I knew that we should have your sympathy, Mrs. Darner,” she said
+demurely. “You have, I doubt not, more than once experienced all the
+chagrin that follows the miscarrying of a well-planned scheme. But as
+it so happened, we were more than compensated for our ill-usage at that
+time by the unlooked-for appearance of the missing actor two nights
+later.”
+
+“Oh, lud!” cried Mrs. Darner, holding up both her hands in a very dainty
+way.
+
+Mr. Garrick also lifted up his hands in amazement, but he did not need
+to exclaim anything to emphasize the effect of his gesture.
+
+Dr. Burney smiled, trying to catch the eye of Mr. Garrick, but Mr.
+Garrick took very good care that he should not succeed in doing so.
+
+“You may well cry, 'oh, lud!'” said Mrs. Thrale. “But if you had been
+in the Rooms when the man entered you would not have been able to say a
+word for surprise, I promise you. The poor gentleman had posted all the
+way from town to Tunbridge, apparently for our diversion only, and what
+a sight he was! It seems that he had got over his fright at the coupling
+of his name with the lady's, while flying to London, but from this point
+a reaction set in, and he spent all the time that he was posting back to
+the Wells adding fuel to the fire of his resolution to throw himself
+at the feet of the lady at the earliest possible moment. Was there ever
+such a comedy played, Mr. Garrick?”
+
+“'Twould be too extravagant for the theatre, madam, but not for Nature's
+playhouse,” replied Garrick. “I have more than once been told the story
+of soldiers having fled in a panic from the field of battle, but on
+finding themselves in a place of safety they returned to the fight and
+fought like demons. Was there aught that could be termed demoniacal
+in the gentleman's conduct on finding himself face to face with the
+enemy--I mean the lady?”
+
+“Aught demoniacal, do you ask me?” cried Mrs. Thrale. “Oh, sir, have
+you not heard the parable of the demon that was cast out of a man, but
+finding its homeless condition unsupportable, sought out seven of its
+friends and returned with them to its former habitation, so that the
+last state of the man was more demoniacal than the first?”
+
+“I fancy I have heard the parable, madam, but its application----” began
+Garrick, when Mrs.
+
+Darner broke in upon him, crying:
+
+“Do not ever attempt to point out the aptness of the application of
+a parable, Mrs. Thrale. Do not, if you are wise. Would you lead us to
+believe that the unhappy wretch found it necessary to post up to town
+to obtain his relay of demons for his own discomfiture when so much rank
+and fashion was at the Wells, though at the fag end of the season?”
+
+“Leaving parables aside, demons and all, I can bear witness to
+the condition of the man when he entered the Rooms and strode with
+determination on his face up to where the Widow Nash was fanning
+herself--not without need,” said Mrs. Thrale. “It so happened that she
+was seated under the gallery at the furthest end of the Rooms, but our
+gentleman did not pause on entering to look round for her--I tell you
+that it seemed as if he went by instinct straight up to her, and bowing
+before her, said: 'Madam, may I beg the honour of a word or two with you
+in private?'--I was close by and so were several other equally credible
+witnesses, and we heard every word. The widow looked at him coolly----”
+
+“Yes, you said she had been fanning herself,” remarked Mrs. Darner, but
+without interrupting the flow of the narrative.
+
+“There was no need of a fan for her voice, I can assure you, when she
+had completed her survey of the dusty gentleman and thought fit to
+reply to him,” continued Mrs. Thrale. “'I vow, sir,' said she, 'that I
+consider this room sufficiently private for anything you have to say
+to me.' She had plainly got wind of Mr. Garrick's plot and so was fully
+prepared for the worst--though some people might call it the best--that
+could happen. 'Madam,' said Mr. Kendal, 'what I have to say is meant for
+your ear alone,' and I am bound to admit that he spoke with suavity
+and dignity. 'Pray let my friends here be the judges of that,' said the
+widow. That was a pretty rebuff for any gentleman with a sense of his
+own dignity, you will say; but he did not seem to accept it in such a
+spirit. He hesitated, but only for a few moments, then he looked around
+him to see who were within hearing, and with hardly a pause, he said in
+the clearest of tones, 'I perceive that we are surrounded just now with
+some ladies who, two days ago, offered me congratulations upon my good
+fortune in winning your promise, madam; and I venture now to come
+before you to implore of you to give me permission to assume that their
+congratulations were well founded'--those were his words; we did not
+think that he had it in him to express himself so well.”
+
+“And what was the lady's reply?” asked Dr. Burney, recalling the
+prophecy in which he had indulged when parting from Garrick at his own
+door.
+
+“The lady's reply was disappointing, though dignified,” replied Mrs.
+Thrale. “'Sir,' she said, 'I have oft heard that the credulity of a man
+has no limits, but I have never before had so conspicuous an instance of
+the truth of this. Surely the merest schoolboy would have been able to
+inform you that you were being made the victim of one of Mr. Garrick's
+silly jests--that these ladies here lent themselves to the transaction,
+hoping to make a fool of me as well as of you; but I trust that they
+are now aware of the fact that I, at least, perceived the truth from the
+first, so that whoever has been fooled I am not that person; and so
+I have the honour to wish you and them a very good evening.' Then she
+treated us to a very elaborate curtsey and stalked away to the door,
+leaving us all amazed at her display of dignity--real dignity, not the
+stage imitation, Mr. Garrick.”
+
+“You should have been there, if only to receive a lesson, Mr. Garrick,”
+ said Mrs. Damer.
+
+“I hope those who had the good fortune to be present were taught a
+lesson,” said another lady in the circle.
+
+“If you mean me, madam,” said Mrs. Thrale, with tactful good humour,
+“I frankly allow that I profited greatly by observing the scene. 'Tis
+a dangerous game to play--that of trying to show others in a ridiculous
+light, and in future I vow that all my attention shall be given to the
+duty of avoiding making a fool of myself. Your jest miscarried, Mr.
+Garrick; though how that gentleman who fled from the Wells in that
+headlong fashion was induced to return, is beyond my knowledge.”
+
+“Psha! madam, the fellow is a coxcomb and not worth discussing,” cried
+Garrick. “He got no more than his deserts when the lady left him to be
+the laughing-stock of the Assembly. I knew that that would be his fate
+if he ever succeeded in summing up sufficient courage to face her.”
+
+“But strange to say, we did not laugh at him then,” said Mrs. Thrale.
+“He seemed to be quite a different man from the one whom we had tried
+to fool two days earlier. There was a certain dignity about him that
+disarmed us. You must allow, Mr. Garrick, that only the bravest of men
+would have had the courage to march up the Assembly Rooms and make his
+proposal to the lady in public.”
+
+“That is the courage of the coxcomb who believes himself to be
+irresistible to the other sex, madam,” said Garrick; “and I affirm that
+'twas most reprehensible to refrain from laughing at him.” Then, putting
+his arm through that of Burney as if to stroll on with him, and so
+give the others to understand that he had had enough of Mr. Kendal as a
+topic, he whispered:
+
+“Ha, my friend, did not I prophesy aright what would be the fellow's
+fate? I know men, and women, too--ay, in some measure, though they are
+sealed books, eh, friend Burney? And you tried to persuade me that she
+would not snub him? I knew better--I knew that she--eh, what--what are
+they staring at?”
+
+“They are staring at the appearance of Mr. Kendal with the Widow Nash on
+his arm--there they are, David, and you are staring at them too,” said
+Burney with a smile.
+
+“Angels and Ministers of Grace! 'Tis a man and his wife we are staring
+at! The woman has married him after all!” cried David, his hand dropping
+limply from Burney's shoulder. “A man and his wife: I know the look in
+their faces!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+|IT was, indeed, the same man who had come to consult Dr. Burney, but
+had not been allowed the chance of doing so by Garrick, a fortnight
+before--the same man, but with a marked difference, who was now walking
+across the pillared room in the Pantheon, with a smiling, well-favoured
+lady by his side; and toward the pair the eyes of all the circle whom
+Mrs. Thrale had been addressing were directed.
+
+Mrs. Thrale and her friends were too much amazed to be able to speak,
+but the lips of every one of them were holding back some exclamation of
+surprise: an acute observer would have been able easily to set down the
+various unuttered exclamations of the party, from the simple “Oh,
+Lud!” of Mrs. Thrale to the more emphatic “Merciful Powers!” of Mrs.
+Cholmondeley, though not a word was spoken between them, while Mr.
+Kendal and the lady walked, straight through the room to where they were
+standing.
+
+“Slip behind the pillar: I will cover you, my friend,” whispered Dr.
+Burney to Garrick.
+
+But Garrick had no intention of doing anything so ignominious--more
+especially as he perceived that Mr. Kendal had caught sight of him; and
+it was really Garrick who advanced to meet the couple, with the air of
+a host about to welcome two long-expected guests--it was really Garrick
+who received them with one of his finest bows, and who--to add to the
+amazement of the group behind him--was greeted by Mr. Kendal and the
+lady with the friendliest of smiles (the lady was blushing, not Mr.
+Garrick).
+
+And then it was to Dr. Burney the gentleman turned.
+
+“Dear sir,” he cried, “with what words should I approach you? It is to
+your counsel and Mr. Garrick's that I owe my happiness.” Then he made
+his bow to the others of the group.
+
+“Mrs. Thrale,” he said, when he had recovered himself, “we hoped to find
+you here with your friends, so that we might lose no moment in offering
+you our thanks for the tactful way in which you brought us together.
+Only such genius as yours, madam, could have perceived--well, all
+that you did perceive. I protest that neither Mrs. Kendal nor myself
+apprehended the too flattering truth. But the heart of a woman who has
+herself loved--ah, that is the source of such genius as you displayed
+with such subtlety. She is mine, madam; we have been married a whole
+week, and I, at least, know what a treasure--but I cannot trust myself
+to talk of my happiness just now. Perhaps at some future time I shall
+be able to tell you coherently how I felt within me that my Diana--Mrs.
+Nash, as she was then--did not mean her rebuff as a final dismissal, and
+thus I was led to her side--to implore an audience of her, in the course
+of which she confessed to me that----”
+
+But his bride prevented the flow of his eloquence by tapping him under
+the chin in exquisite playfulness with her fan, smiling roguishly at him
+first, and then looking round the group with an air of chastened triumph
+while she said:
+
+“Foolish man! Prithee remember, Ferdinand, that you are in a public
+place, and that the secrets of the confessional are sacred. I protest
+that you are exceeding a husband's privilege in revealing aught that I
+confessed when taken aback at your sudden appearance before me!”
+
+“I ask your pardon, my angel,” he cried. “I had no right to say even the
+little that I have said. I suppose I shall learn discretion in time and
+with practice. But when I think of the kindly interest that some of our
+friends here showed in bringing us together, I feel that they should be
+rewarded by a repetition of the whole story.”
+
+“Nay, nay, sir, you may take my word for it that we look not for such a
+reward,” cried Garrick. “Such philanthropists as Mrs. Thrale and myself
+feel more than rewarded when we succeed in bringing together a lady and
+gentleman who were so plainly intended by Providence for each other's
+happiness.”
+
+“It was Mr. Garrick who looked with the eyes of Providence into your
+case as associated with Mr. Kendal, madam. That is, if Puck may ever be
+thought of as assuming the rôle of Providence,” said Mrs. Thrale. “For
+myself, I believe that Puck has more to do with the making of matches
+than heaven; and assuredly in this particular case the mischievous fairy
+had more than a finger. But however that may be, we can still wish you
+every happiness in life, and offer you an apology for----”
+
+“H'sh!” whispered Garrick, raising a hand. “Rauzzini is beginning to
+sing. I am sure, Mrs. Kendal, that you will willingly accept Signor
+Rauzzini's song in lieu of Mrs. Thrale's apology, however admirably
+worded the latter were sure to be.”
+
+The bride smiled benignly at Mrs. Thrale, and there was more than a
+trace of triumph in her smile.
+
+Dr. Burney smiled also at the adroitness of the actor, who, he could
+perceive, had no intention of allowing himself to be incriminated by any
+confession, assuming the form of an apology, that Mrs. Thrale might make
+in a moment of contrition for having been a partner with him in a piece
+of fooling that had had a very different result from the one he (and
+she) had looked for.
+
+Garrick, still holding up a warning finger as if he had at heart the
+best interests of the composer as well as the singer of “Waft her,
+Angels,” prevented another word from being spoken, though more than a
+full minute had passed before Rauzzini had breathed the first notes of
+the recitativo.
+
+But incautiously lowering his finger when the handsome Roman had begun,
+Mrs. Thrale took advantage of her release from the thraldom imposed upon
+her, to say in a low tone, looking toward the gallery in front of which
+the singer stood:
+
+“It is one angel talking to the others! Was there ever so angelic a
+man?”
+
+And little Miss Burney, who had also her eyes fixed upon the singer,
+felt that little Mrs. Thrale was not merely an angel, but a goddess. She
+expressed her opinion to this effect in her next letter to Mr. Crisp.
+
+She listened in a dream to the singing that no one could hear and remain
+unmoved, even though one had not the advantage of looking at the singer
+at the same time. Fanny Burney was too shortsighted to be able to
+distinguish one face from another at such a distance; but this made
+no difference to her; she had the face of the sweet singer ever before
+her--most clearly when she closed her eyes, as she did now, and listened
+to him.
+
+“Waft her, angels, to the skies--Waft her, angels, waft her, angels,
+waft her to the skies,” rang out his fervent imploration, and she felt
+that there were no powers that could withstand the force of such an
+appeal. For herself she felt carried away on the wings of song into the
+highest heaven. She felt that harps of heaven alone could provide an
+adequate accompaniment to such a voice as his; and she gave herself up
+to it as unreservedly as a bride gives herself to the arms of her lover.
+She had that sensation of a sweet yielding to the divine influence of
+the music until she could feel it enfolding her and bearing her into the
+infinite azure of a realm more beautiful than any that her dreams had
+borne her to in the past. She wanted nothing better than this in any
+world. All that she wanted was an assurance that it would continue for
+ever and ever....
+
+With the cessation of the singing she seemed to awaken from a dream of
+divine delight, and in her awaking to retain the last thought that had
+been hers--the longing for an assurance that the delight which she was
+feeling would endure. She was awake now, and she knew that love had been
+all her dream, and that what she longed for was the assurance that
+that love would continue. And now she remembered that it was this same
+longing that had brought about her resolution that she would never go to
+her King as the beggar maid had gone to King Cophetua. There would be
+no assurance of the continuing of love between them if she had the
+humiliating feeling that he had stooped to raise her to his level.
+
+That was the thought which took possession of her mind when she had
+returned from the sublimities to which she had been borne by her lover's
+singing, and in another minute the reaction had come. She had been
+soaring high, but now she was conscious of a sinking at heart; for the
+whole building was resounding with acclamations of the singer. There did
+not seem to be anyone silent, save only herself, throughout the hall.
+Everyone seemed calling the name of Rauzzini--all seemed ready to
+throw themselves at his feet; and when he stood up to acknowledge their
+tribute of enthusiasm to his marvellous powers, there was something of
+frenzy in the way his name was flung from hundreds of voices--it was
+not enough for the people whom he had stirred to shout his name, they
+surrounded him with the banners of a great conqueror--the air was
+quivering with the lace and the silk that were being waved on all sides
+to do him honour--handkerchiefs, scarves, fans--the air was full of
+them.
+
+And there he stood high above them, smiling calmly and bending his head
+gravely to right and left in acknowledgment of all....
+
+That was his position before the world. Her heart sank within her as she
+asked herself what was hers. How could she ever hope to attain to such a
+place as should win from the world such applause as this? How could
+she ever be so vain as to think that the giving of a little book to
+the world should have an effect worthy of being compared with this
+demonstration which was shaking the Pantheon?
+
+Her heart sank to a deeper depth still when the thunders had passed
+away--reluctantly as the reverberations of a great storm--and there was
+a buzz of voices all about her--exclamations of delight--whispers of
+admiration--ladies with clasped hands, fervent in their words about the
+marvellous face of the young Roman--and her father and his friend, Mr.
+Fulke Greville, exchanging recollections of the singing of the same air
+by other vocalists, and coming gradually to the conclusion that none had
+put such feeling into it as had Rauzzini.
+
+The buzz of voices did not cease when the singer had come down from his
+gallery and was greeting some of his friends on the floor of the great
+hall. He had trouble in making his way as far as the group which he
+meant to reach. The most distinguished ladies of high quality had
+pressed round him with uncritical expressions of appreciation of his
+singing, and there was no lack of gentlemen of fashion to follow their
+example, though wondering greatly that the ladies of quality should
+allow themselves to show such transports respecting a man with no trait
+of a true-born Englishman about him. Signor Rauzzini might have indulged
+in a score of pinches of snuff out of the gold and enamelled boxes that
+were thrust forward for his acceptance with the finest artificial grace
+of a period when it was not thought effeminate to be graceful over small
+things.
+
+He bowed low to the ladies of quality, and smiled his polite rejection
+of the snuff of the gentlemen of fashion. But such convenances made it
+impossible for him to keep his eyes upon the group toward which he
+was making a necessarily slow way, and he only reached the side of Dr.
+Burney to find that Dr. Burney's daughter had disappeared. He had no
+chance of seeing how Miss Burney at his approach had slipped behind
+a pillar and suffered herself to be conducted thence to a seat by her
+cousin Edward: the fact that Edward was learning to be a painter was a
+sufficient excuse for his paying an occasional visit to such scenes
+of colour as were unfolded before the eyes of a frequenter of the
+fashionable Pantheon every night.
+
+Fanny felt that if Signor Rauzzini had come to her side after passing
+through the ranks of lace and velvet and brocade, she would have sunk
+through the floor of the hall. But she knew that it was to her side he
+was coming, and she took the opportunity of flying when he was compelled
+to make a pause in front of the flattery of the Duchess of Ancaster.
+
+She was painfully shy at all times, but overwhelmingly so at that
+moment, though she knew that she was the only woman in the place who
+would make the attempt to evade the distinction which threatened her.
+How could she remain where she had been with all eyes in the room upon
+her? She felt that it would be impossible.
+
+Her heart was beating quickly as she thought:
+
+“Not yet--not yet.”
+
+After all there is no more womanly trait than that of fleeing from a
+lover; but Fanny Burney was yielding to its impulse without an attempt
+to analyse it, and without being consoled by the reflection of the
+woman of the younger world, that if it is woman's instinct to fly from a
+lover, it is a lover's instinct to pursue.
+
+She had scarcely finished the cup of ice which her cousin had brought
+her, before the man had found her.
+
+But now the Gabrielli was beginning to sing, and all eyes were directed
+upon the Gabrielli, so that no one but Rauzzini saw how Dr. Burney's
+over-shy daughter was flushing.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+|THEY spoke in French, with an occasional phrase in Italian when they
+found the other tongue lacking in melody or in the exact shade of
+meaning that they sought to express. Edward Burney thought that the
+moment was one that favoured his ambition to study the pose of Madame
+Gabrielli, with a view to starting on a portrait that should make him
+famous. He asked Fanny's permission to allow him to take up a place
+a few yards beyond the pillar. He promised not to be long absent, and
+Fanny had not the heart to detain him.
+
+“You fled from me--was that kind?” asked Rauzzini when the cousin had
+moved away, but was still in view.
+
+“Ah,” said she, “one who has my odious selfconsciousness does not ask
+what is kind or unkind, she simply flies.”
+
+“But you knew that I was coming to your side?” said he.
+
+“I know that you are wise enough to value the criticism of a musician
+like my father above the vapid phrases of the people of fashion,”
+ replied Fanny.
+
+“That is true indeed,” said he. “I value a word of praise or blame from
+Dr. Burney as precious. But Dr. Burney has a daughter whose words are to
+me as precious.”
+
+“She is not here to-night,” said Fanny. “My sister Esther, to whom you
+refer, is indeed a discriminating critic. She told me how exquisitely
+you sang at the concert where you met her--it is scarcely a fortnight
+ago.”
+
+“Dr. Burney has more daughters than that one,” said he.
+
+Fanny laughed.
+
+“He has indeed more daughters than one,” she said. “We were a household
+of daughters before Esther married and when my brother was in the South
+Seas. But only Esther is critical as a musician.”
+
+“In the name of heaven, do you think that it is only possible for me to
+value words that refer to my singing?” he asked. “Do you not know that I
+would rather listen to your voice than----”
+
+“Than Madame Gabrielli's?” said Fanny; he had spoken his last sentence
+in too loud a tone, even though the Gabrielli's brilliant vocalism
+usually admitted of a conversation being carried on with some vehemence
+in the great room of the Pantheon without causing remark.
+
+He smiled at her warning, and it was in a subdued voice that he said:
+
+“I am tired of hearing the Gabrielli; but what of your voice? How often
+have you given me the chance of hearing it? Even now you fled from me as
+though I carried the plague about with me! Was that kind or unkind?”
+
+“You do not entertain the thought that perhaps I have not yet tired
+of Madame Gabrielli's vocalism: I knew that she was at the point of
+beginning her aria.”
+
+“You would sacrifice me on the altar of your favourite? Well, perhaps
+you would be justified in doing so. Hold up your finger now and I shall
+be mute as a fish until Gabrielli has had her last shriek. I can still
+look at you--it will not spoil your appreciation of the aria if I merely
+look at you.”
+
+“I think I would rather that you talked to me than merely looked at me.
+I do not invite people to look at me, and happily few people do. I am
+not conspicuous. I am the insignificant one. There is Mrs. Thrale, for
+instance; she has been several times at our house, and every time she
+comes she inquires who is the little one.”
+
+He smiled and held up his finger in imitation of the way she had rebuked
+him for talking too loud.
+
+“H'sh; I am anxious to hear the Signora Gabrielli,” he said, and the
+express on that he made his face assume at that moment would
+have convinced anyone that he was giving all his attention to the
+singing--drinking in every note with the earnestness of an enthusiast.
+There was a certain boyish exaggeration in his expression that was very
+amusing to Fanny, though less observing persons would have been ready
+to accept it as evidence of the generous appreciation on the part of one
+great singer of the success of another.
+
+So he remained until the _cavatina_ had come to an end; and then he was
+loudest in his cry of “Brava!”
+
+“It is a treat--a great--a sacred treat,” said he, turning to Fanny. “I
+do not think I ever heard that song before. Has it a name, I wonder?”
+
+“If I mistake not it is from an opera in which a certain Roman tenore
+made a name for himself last year, in happy conjunction with Madame
+Gabrielli,” said Fanny.
+
+“Is it possible? I had not heard of that circumstance,” said he, with a
+look of the most charming innocence in his large eyes. It was his hands
+that were most expressive, however, as he added:
+
+“But it was last year, you say, mademoiselle? Ah, who is it that
+remembers an opera from one year to another? No one, except the
+_impresario_ who has lost his good money, or somebody's else's money,
+over its production. Enough, the _cantatrice_ has given us of her best,
+and is there now any reason why we should remain dumb? The great charm
+of the singing of these brilliant artistes of last year's operas is that
+when they have sung, they have sung--they leave one nothing to think
+about afterward. Is not that so, mademoiselle?”
+
+“They leave one nothing to think about--except their singing,” said
+Fanny. “For myself, I am still thinking of 'Waft her, angels,' although
+nearly half an hour must have passed since I heard the last notes. And
+it seems to me that when half a century will have passed I shall still
+be thinking of it.”
+
+He did not offer her the conventional acknowledgement of a bow. He
+only looked at her with those large eyes of his; they were capable of
+expressing in a single glance all the tenderness of feeling of a poem.
+
+“I have not sung in vain,” he said in a low tone. “My old _maestro_ gave
+me the advice one day when I was proving to him my success in reaching
+the high note which I had been striving for years to bring into my
+compass: 'That is all very well,' he said. 'You have aimed at touching
+that rare note, now your aim must be to touch the heart of everyone who
+hears you sing.' I sometimes think that he set for me too difficult a
+task.”
+
+“Not too difficult--for you,” said she.
+
+“There are dangers,” he said thoughtfully. “I have known singers who
+tried to reach the hearts of their hearers by tricks--yes, and they
+succeeded through these illegitimate means in making themselves popular,
+while far better singers who had a scorn of such tricks and gave their
+best to all who listened to them, failed to please anyone who had not a
+knowledge of the true boundary of music.”
+
+“I have seen these tricksters, too,” said Fanny. “I have witnessed their
+sentimental grimaces--their head shakings--their appeal to the feelings
+with pathetic eyes turned heavenward. They made me ashamed of
+them--ashamed of myself for listening to them, though people about me
+had been moved to tears. But I think that the people who are easily
+moved to tears are those who retain an impression the shortest space of
+time.”
+
+“You give me confidence--encouragement,” he cried. “I have made up my
+mind that if I cannot reach a heart by the straight King's highway, I
+will not try to do so by any bypath. Bypaths are, we know, the resorts
+of brigands: they may captivate a heart or two, but only to leave them
+empty afterwards.”
+
+So they talked together for many minutes. Faney Burney had a sufficient
+acquaintance among musicians, vocal as well as instrumental, to have
+learned, long ago, that they can easily be prevented from talking on any
+other subject than music, and the same reflection that had caused her
+to say that “Not yet--not yet,” had impelled her to lead Rauzzini in
+another direction than that in which he had shown so strong a tendency
+to go. He had been trying to make her understand that he had travelled
+through the obstructions of the hall not in order that he might obtain
+the criticism of so accomplished a _maestro_ as Dr. Burney upon his
+singing, but in order that he should have a chance of talking to Dr.
+Burney's unaccomplished daughter; he had shown her that his wish was to
+converse on the topic of this unaccomplished daughter; but she had no
+mind to acquiesce in his aims for the present. She still felt herself to
+be the beggar maid, and she would not allow her king to get any nearer
+to her.
+
+It was not until her cousin had returned to where she was seated, that
+the young Italian found that he had not made much progress with his
+suit. He had intended that this _tête-à-tête_ with her should make
+her aware of how he felt in regard to her, but he had allowed his
+opportunity to pass, and in place of talking about her he had been led
+to talk of himself.
+
+That was how he expressed himself to her when he found that their
+_tête-à-tête_ was at an end.
+
+“How has this come about?” he cried in surprise. “How is it that I have
+shown myself to be so vain as to make speeches about my singing when I
+meant to talk to you of yourself?”
+
+“'Twas I who found a more profitable topic for you, _signore mio_,” she
+replied, feeling her way through the words of his native tongue, for he
+had spoken out his surprise in Italian.
+
+He shook his head and made a gesture with his hands.
+
+“But it is a mystery!” he said in French. “I had no desire to talk about
+myself or my singing. I meant to tell you what was in my mind when I saw
+you entering this place with your father. Shall we retrace our steps in
+our conversation until I find how it was that I took a wrong turning?
+Alas! I fear that it would not be possible!”
+
+“It would not be possible, indeed,” she replied. “Did you not say
+something about the bypaths being dangerous with banditti? We kept
+our feet upon the King's highway, which is safe. I was swept off my
+feet--carried away--away--by your singing of the aria; I had scarce
+touched the earth once more when you came to my side, and now we are
+parting happily, you to realize your aspirations, I to--to--well,
+to retain for ever the memory of your singing--the memory of those
+celestial harmonies into the midst of which I was wafted by the angels
+of your imploration. That is enough for one evening of my life. Nay, you
+must not speak another word lest the charm of all should fade away. I
+shall go home to dream of angels.”
+
+“And I shall go to dream of you,” he said in a low tone.
+
+He did not hold her hand so long as Thomas Barlowe had done when parting
+from her, but she felt that somehow he had accomplished more by his
+reserve than Thomas had achieved by his impetuosity. She hoped that she
+might never see Thomas again; but for Signor Rauzzini----
+
+They parted.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+|THESE foreigners!” exclaimed young Edward Burney when Rauzzini had left
+them, and Fanny was asking her cousin if her father was not looking for
+her. “These foreigners! Your father is talking with another of them--an
+Italian too, as I live--I have seen him in St. Martin's Street--Signor
+Piozzi. But I suppose Uncle Burney likes to keep in touch with them. The
+town is swarming with them: they are even to be found about Leicester
+Fields. Why do some people fancy that we must have Italians to sing
+for us? There are plenty of good singers in England, without a drop of
+foreign blood in their veins. A good sea song with a chorus that is easy
+to get into the swing of--that's English and honest.”
+
+“Honest down to the hoarsest note,” said Fanny. “You and James are at
+one in the matter of songs.”
+
+“Cousin Jim hates foreigners, as is quite proper that an officer in a
+King's ship should,” said Edward stoutly.
+
+“Not all foreigners,” said Fanny smiling. “You forget how kindly he took
+to Prince Omai.”
+
+“Oh, a South Sea Islander is different,” cried her cousin. “I expect
+that the South Seas will soon become as English as ourselves if Captain
+Cook goes on discovering islands.”
+
+“Edward,” said Fanny, after a pause sufficient to allow of the
+introduction of a new topic; “Edward, could you make it convenient to
+call at the Orange Coffee House some day soon to inquire if there is
+another letter for Mr. Grafton?”
+
+“I'll not omit it on any account,” he replied. “Oh, yes, Mr. Grafton,
+I'll collect your correspondence for you, never fear. You have not let
+anyone else into the secret, I hope?”
+
+“No one knows it except Susy and Lottie and Charles and Hetty; but Hetty
+only knows that I wrote the book, not that it is to be printed--Charles
+is still away from us, or I would not trouble you, Edward.”
+
+“Poor Charlie grew tired of the Orange Coffee House, did he not? He told
+me how you made him your messenger at first, disguising him in a cloak
+and a gentleman's hat, so that he might not seem quite the boy that he
+was. But how the secret has been kept so well is a wonder to me--kept
+from the powers that be, I mean--uncle and aunt. I wonder if your mother
+never had a suspicion of what was going on, especially as she knew all
+about your writing long ago.”
+
+“I think that it was the copying out of the padre's History that saved
+me,” said Fanny. “Many a page of my novel I wrote when she believed that
+I was copying the notes for the History--yes, that, and the letters
+which Mr. Crisp insists on my sending him every week. But even with
+these excuses I could sometimes not get through more than three or four
+pages of my own book during a whole week.”
+
+“How will you look when the secret is let out--it must be let out some
+day, you know? If the writing a novel is thought shocking, how will
+Uncle Burney receive the news, think you? He has not yet given you leave
+to publish it.”
+
+There was a troubled look on poor Fanny's face as she replied, after a
+pause:
+
+“I have often meant to ask father's permission, but I was not able to
+summon up courage enough to face him with the whole truth. But it cannot
+be delayed much longer. Perhaps I might write him a letter about it some
+time when I am at Chessington.”
+
+“I don't envy you the duty, my dear Fanny,” said lie. “But I think that
+the sooner you get it over the easier you will feel. I suppose that
+writing a novel is worse than writing a 'History of Music.' I wonder why
+you took so much trouble over the business.”
+
+“I could not help it,” she cried. “I have often wondered myself why I
+was sitting up in that cold room at the top of the house, writing until
+my fingers were benumbed, when I might have been at my comfortable
+sewing in front of a fire downstairs; but I could not help it--I could
+not help doing it, Eddy.”
+
+Eddy never reached that point in his career as a painter when he found
+the artist's impulse to create too great to be resisted. He could not
+appreciate her explanation.
+
+“'I couldn't help it,' that's what we were used to say long ago, when
+we got into mischief; I hope that Uncle Burney and Aunt Burney--don't
+forget her in this matter--I hope that they will accept your excuse.
+Anyhow, you may trust me to act as your 'Mr. Grafton' at the Orange
+Coffee House some day this week.”
+
+He caught a glimpse of his uncle, Dr. Burney, sitting with Mr. Greville,
+so that he had no trouble in placing Fanny once more in charge of her
+father. He could see that the girl was a little downcast, and tried to
+cheer her up a bit by whispering in a sly way into her ear:
+
+“Good-night, Mr. Grafton; my best respects to Mrs. Grafton and the
+children--especially Evelina.”
+
+The smile that Fanny gave in acknowledgment of his pleasantry did not
+quite carry conviction that his well-meant effort had been successful.
+He went away feeling as much sympathy for her as was possible for him
+to have in common with the reflection that if she was in a difficult
+position, it was wholly one of her own seeking. What could have induced
+a girl who had been carefully brought up, and provided with an excellent
+stepmother, to write a novel, placing herself thereby on a level
+with those dreadful ladies whose productions were prohibited in every
+self-respecting household and only read by stealth when obtained at
+a cost of twopence--more than the best of them were worth--at the
+circulating library?
+
+Yes, poor Fanny was undoubtedly to be pitied; but she had really only
+herself to blame for the trouble that was looming in front of her when
+the secret of her authorship should be revealed to her father and her
+excellent stepmother--one of the best judges to be found anywhere of all
+sorts of needlework--not merely plain sewing and buttonholing, but satin
+stitch, herring-boning and running and felling.
+
+The very next day Cousin Edward called at St. Martin's Street, carrying
+with him a small parcel neatly done up in white paper. He was lucky
+enough to find Fanny and Susan alone in the work-room; and after asking
+mysteriously if there was any chance of his uncle or aunt coming
+upon them, and being assured that they were both away for the day, he
+carefully locked the door of the room, saying in the whisper of a man of
+plots and mysteries:
+
+“'Tis better to be sure than sorry. In matters of this nature 'tis
+impossible to be too cautious.”
+
+He then handed the parcel to Fanny, who gave an exclamation when she saw
+that it was addressed:
+
+“_To Mr. Grafton, at the Orange Coffee House, Orange Street_.”
+
+She opened the parcel, and found it to contain a printer's unbound copy
+of a book, the title page of which stared up at her: “_Evelina; or, A
+Young Lady's Entrance into the World_,” and with it was a letter from
+Mr. Lowndes, the bookseller, presenting his compliments to Mr. Grafton,
+with the request that Mr. Grafton would read the book and prove it as
+soon as possible, returning the list of errata to Mr. Lowndes, so that
+the edition might go to press for early publication.
+
+There it lay on the table in front of her. She read the letter standing,
+and remained on her feet, looking down at the unbound book. It had a
+queer, half-dressed appearance, lacking covers; and when, after some
+minutes of silence, Susy took a step or two closer to it, and, with her
+hand on Fanny's arm, looked down on it also, the picture that they made
+suggested two sisters looking into the cradle where the first baby of
+one of them lay. The expression on Susy's face--a mingling of wonder and
+curiosity, with delight not far off--was exactly that which the younger
+sister of the picture might be expected to wear, catching a glimpse of
+the undressed morsel of humanity in its first cot.
+
+Susy put her hand down to it, and moved the printed sheets about. She
+read the title page down to the last name on the imprint, and then she
+flung up her hands, crying:
+
+“How lovely! how lovely! But it seems wonderful! How did it come into
+being? It looks like a real thing now that we see it printed. The copy
+that you wrote out in that disguised hand seemed somehow quite different
+from this. There is life in this. It feels warm, actually warm, Fanny.
+Oh, don't you love it, dear?”
+
+Fanny, the young mother, shook her head, but with no significance, so
+far as Susy could see.
+
+“'Tis too late now,” said Edward gloomily, taking on himself the burden
+of interpreting that head-shake. “You are bound down to go on with it
+now. You should have thought of all this before.”
+
+“What nonsense is this you are talking?” cried Susy, turning upon
+him almost indignantly; for his tone suggested an aspersion upon the
+offspring. “What do you say is too late now? Do you mean to say that
+there's anything to be ashamed of in this? Cannot you see that she did
+not put her name to it? Who is there to know that it came from this
+house? The name of Burney nowhere appears on it.”
+
+“That's so much, at any rate,” said he.
+
+“Do you mean to say that you don't think it quite wonderful, Eddy?”
+ cried Susy. “And getting twenty pounds for it--twenty pounds! And you
+say something about it being too late!”
+
+“I only judged from the way Fanny shook her head,” said he.
+
+“Oh, that was not what Fanny was thinking at all--now was it, Fanny?”
+ said Susy encouragingly to her sister.
+
+“I don't know quite what I meant or what I mean even now,” replied
+Fanny. “It made me feel for the moment somehow as if I had appeared in a
+street full of people before I had quite finished dressing!”
+
+“Ah!” exclaimed Edward.
+
+“But that is nonsense, dear,” said Susy, still consolatory. “The book is
+not yourself.”
+
+“Not all myself, but part of myself--that is what I feel,” said Fanny.
+
+“I cannot see that that is so. You are you--you yourself quite apart
+from the book. Whatever the book may be, you will still remain Fanny
+Burney, the best daughter and the best sister in the world. What does it
+matter if people--foolish people who know nothing about it--laugh at it
+or say nasty things about it? Do you think that that will make any of us
+like you the less?”
+
+She put her arm about Fanny and kissed her on the cheek, and Fanny's
+tears began to fall. The young man standing by felt more uneasy than
+he had ever felt in his life. He crossed the room and looked out of the
+window, turning his back upon the scene of the sisters. He did not know
+what to say to a girl when once she allowed herself to weep. He wished
+with all his heart that he had not been dragged into this business. But
+Fanny's tears convinced him that his first impression of her reception
+of her book was the correct one: she was, like other young mothers he
+had heard of, bitterly repentant when it was too late.
+
+The next sound of which he became aware was of the crinkling of the
+stiff paper of the wrapper. One of the girls was folding up the parcel.
+He glanced round and saw that it was Fanny herself who was so engaged.
+She had dried her tears; the expression on her face was one of
+resignation--one of determination to make the best of a bad matter.
+
+“Ah, that's better,” said he, going to her and picking up the string
+from the floor. “There's no use crying over spilt milk, is there, Fanny?
+We have all kept your secret loyally, and no one need ever know that
+you so far forgot yourself. Certainly the revelation will never come
+from my lips.”
+
+Fanny burst out laughing.
+
+“Oh, dear Eddy, you are the best cousin that any poor girl could have,”
+ she said. “Your words have helped me greatly. They have helped to make
+me feel what is the aspect of the world in regard to my poor little
+story. It has been my constant companion night and day for three years
+and more. I worked at it in the cold and I tried how I could improve
+pages of it, copying it and recopying it; I practised a duplicity which
+was foreign to my nature in writing it--I have deceived my father and my
+mother about it--I wasted my eyesight over it--I robbed myself of sleep
+so that I might complete it, and when it was completed I lay awake in
+anxiety lest no bookseller would look at it, all this trouble I had with
+it, so that the world might have of my best, and what is the verdict of
+the world after all this? You have pronounced it, dear Eddy--you said
+thoughtfully and consolingly--'There's no use crying over spilt milk.'
+You are quite right. Not another tear will I shed over this poor little
+bantling of mine. 'A Young Lady's Entrance into the World'? Nay, call it
+rather a rickety brat that should never have made its entrance into the
+world at all.”
+
+“I should be ashamed of myself if I ever spoke of it in such terms,”
+ cried Susy, looking indignantly at her cousin as though he had abused
+it in that phrase. “'Rickety brat,' indeed! Oh, I should be ashamed. It
+looked so much alive--more alive, I think, than if it was in its covers.
+Let us sit down and read it together, Fanny.”
+
+Cousin Edward felt that he was being badly treated between these
+sisters. That last remark of Susy was rather more than a suggestion
+that he might go as soon as it pleased him. He had not any previous
+experience of young women and their offspring. He could not know
+that their attitude in such circumstances is one of hostility to the
+male--that they resent his appearance as an intrusion.
+
+“I am glad that you are so pleased,” said he, with only a trace of
+irritability in his voice. “And I am glad that I have been of any use to
+you, Cousin Fanny. After all, the thing is yours, not Susy's.”
+
+“That is true, indeed,” cried Fanny. “And it is I who offer you
+my gratitude for your help. Believe me, Eddy, I am sensible of the
+adroitness you have shown in this matter ever since we let you into our
+secret; and if any trouble comes from what we have done you may be quite
+sure that I will accept the entire responsibility for it.”
+
+“Oh, so far as that goes, I do not shrink from taking my share,” said
+he magnanimously. “I do not feel quite without blame--I am a man and
+I should have warned you at the outset. But you had nearly finished it
+before I heard anything of it--you must not forget that.”
+
+“That is true indeed,” said Fanny. “I was self-willed. I wonder was it
+vanity that impelled me. Never mind! It cannot be helped now. It may
+never be heard of again.”
+
+“There's always that to remember,” said he, with the eagerness of a
+drowning man grasping at a straw.
+
+“And I believe that the chances are greatly in favour of that hope being
+realized. Thank you again for your encouragement, dear Eddy,” said she.
+
+“Oh, that's nothing--nothing worth talking about,” said he, picking up
+his gloves. “You can command me always, Cousin Fanny. And you have seen
+that I can keep a secret. Now mind you don't leave that lying about”--he
+pointed to the parcel, the string of which Susy was knotting--“and, be
+advised by me, turn the key in the lock when you are working at it.”
+
+“Yes,” said Susy, “we'll be sure to do our best to prevent anyone from
+suspecting that we have a secret, by locking ourselves in.”
+
+“Caution--nothing like caution,” said he in a whisper, unfastening the
+door and putting his head out to glance to right and left of the short
+corridor. He held up his finger. “All safe so far,” he whispered; “no
+one is in sight.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+|THE moment he disappeared, Susy slipped the knot which she had just
+made on the parcel and flung the paper away.
+
+“Now we can settle down to it properly, Fanny,” she cried, catching
+up the bundle of unstitched sheets and throwing herself back upon the
+little sofa. “Come beside me, dear, and we shall go through every word
+together. Never mind what Eddy said; I think it looks quite lovely, and
+how easily it reads--just like poetry--'Evelina'!--how did you think of
+that sweet name?--'_or, A Young Lady's Entrance into the World_.' Not
+a mistake so far. The printers must surely be careful men! And now that
+you come to think of it, this is really the entrance of the Young Lady
+into the world. Here she is, smiling, but a little shy--just like her
+mamma--your Evelina takes after you, dear--now, confess that there is
+something agreeably shy in the italics printing of that line beginning
+with '_A Young Lady's Entrance_,' Fanny; it may be wrong to write a
+novel, but don't you think that this is worth it? Edward is a goose
+to talk as he did about crying over spilt milk. I wonder that you had
+patience to listen to him.”
+
+“Eddy is a dear boy, and he only said what he knew nearly everybody else
+would be disposed to say about this business. I started the story, as
+you know, half in fun--by way of exercising my hand--but then it got
+hold of me, and it became deadly earnest, and now--oh, Susy, what I feel
+now about it is just what I said to Edward: it seems as if it were the
+best part of myself that I am giving to the world. I wonder if it is
+right for anyone who has written a book, if it be only a novel, to look
+upon it in that light.”
+
+“Why should it not be right? Didn't you put all your thoughts into it,
+and are not one's thoughts part of oneself?” said Susy. “And although so
+many people look down upon novels--all the novels that have been written
+since Mr. Richardson died--still--oh, did not Dr. Johnson once write
+a novel? Yes, 'Rasselas' was what he called it. I tried to read it
+but----”
+
+“H'sh, Susy. Dr. Johnson might write anything that he pleased. Though
+Dr. Johnson wrote a novel, that should be no excuse for such as I having
+the audacity to do the like.”
+
+“I suppose that's what some people will say. But I can't see that if a
+good man does an evil thing, it becomes a good thing simply because he
+does it.”
+
+“Stop, Susy: I remember that he confessed to someone, who told it to Mr.
+Crisp, that he had written 'Rasselas' in order to get money enough to
+pay for his mother's funeral.”
+
+“Oh, in that case--might he not have written something a good deal
+better, Fanny? Oh, I see that you are stricken with horror at my
+thinking anything that came from Dr. Johnson to be dull. I daresay I
+began reading it too soon: I should have waited until I had learned that
+if a great man writes a book it is a great book, but that if a simple
+girl writes a novel--well, there's no use crying over spilt milk. Now
+that's the last word that I have to say, for I mean to read every word
+that's printed here--here--here!” She brought down her open hand on the
+topmost sheets of “Evelina” in three crescendo slaps, and then tucked
+her feet under her and buried herself in the book.
+
+Fanny sat laughing beside her; and when Susy paid no attention to her
+laughter, she continued sitting there in silence, while Susy read page
+after page.
+
+Several minutes had passed before the authoress asked:
+
+“How does the thing read, dear?”
+
+Susy gave a start at the sound of her voice and looked around her as if
+she had just been awakened. This should have been enough for Fanny. She
+should not have repeated her question: it was already answered.
+
+“How does the thing read, Susy?”
+
+“How does it read?” cried Susy. “Oh, Fanny, it reads exactly like a
+book--exactly. There is no difference between this and a real book. Oh,
+'tis a thousand times nicer to read in print than it was as you wrote
+it. It is so good, too!--the best story I ever read! I can't understand
+how you ever came to write it. You who have seen nothing of life--how
+did such a story ever come to you?”
+
+“I wish I knew,” replied Fanny. “And do you think that anyone else will
+read it now that it is printed?” she asked (she was rapidly acquiring
+the most prominent traits of the complete novel writer).
+
+“Anyone else? Nay, everyone--everyone will read it, and everyone will
+love it. How could anyone help--even daddy and mamma? Now please don't
+interrupt me again.”
+
+Down went Susy's face once more among the printed sheets, and Fanny
+watched her with delight. She had been quite ready a short time before
+to accept the verdict of Cousin Edward as equivalent to that of the
+public upon her book; and now she was prepared to accept Susy as the
+representative of all readers of taste and discrimination.
+
+“Edward--psha! What could he know about it?” she was ready to exclaim:
+every moment was bringing her nearer to the complete novelist.
+
+“Surely,” she thought, “there can be no dearer pleasure in life than to
+watch the effect of one's own book upon an appreciative reader!”
+
+(The appreciative reader is always the one who is favourably impressed;
+the other sort knows nothing about what constitutes an interesting
+book.)
+
+It was the first draught of which she had ever partaken of this
+particular cup of happiness, and it was a bombard. She was draining it
+to the very dregs: it was making her intoxicated, even though it was
+only offered to her by her younger sister, who had never read half a
+dozen novels in all her life, and these surreptitiously. She could know
+by the varying changes in expression on Susy's face what place she had
+come to in the book: the turning over of the pages was no guide to her,
+for she had no idea of the quantity of her writing the printers had
+put into a page, but she had no trouble in finding Susy's place, so
+exquisitely reflective was the girl's face of the incidents among which
+she was wandering. Surely little Susy had always been her favourite
+sister (she was smiling at one of the drolleries of characterization
+upon which she had come); oh, there could be no doubt that she had
+never loved any of her sisters as she loved Susy (Susy's eyes were
+now becoming watery, and Fanny knew that she had-reached the first of
+Evelina's troubles).
+
+It was the happiest hour of Fanny's life, and she gave herself up to
+it. She did not feel any irresistible desire to judge for herself if the
+opinion expressed by Susy respecting the story was correct or otherwise.
+She had no impulse to see how her ideas “looked in print.” She was
+content to observe the impression they were making upon her first lay
+reader. She had a vague suspicion that her own pleasure in reading
+the book would be infinitely less than the pleasure she derived from
+following the course of the story in her sister's face.
+
+Half an hour had actually passed before Susy seemed to awaken to the
+realities of life. She jumped up from the sofa with an exclamation of
+surprise, and then glanced down at Fanny with an inquiring look on her
+face--a puzzled look that gave the seal to Fanny's happiness.
+
+“You are wondering how I come to be here, Susy,” said she smiling. “You
+are wondering how I come to be mixed up with the Branghtons and
+the Mervains and the rest of them. You would make me out to be an
+enchantress carrying you into the midst of a strange society; and I
+don't want any more delightful compliments, dear.”
+
+“Oh, Fanny, 'tis so wonderful--so----”
+
+“I don't want to hear anything about it beyond what you have already
+told me, my dear Susy. I watched your face and it told me all. Give me
+a kiss, Susy. You have given me a sensation of pleasure such as I never
+knew before, and such as, I fear, I shall never know again.”
+
+In an instant the two girls were in each other's arms, mingling their
+tears and then their laughter, but exchanging no word until they had
+exhausted every other means of expressing what they felt.
+
+It was Susy who spoke first.
+
+“Take it away, Fanny,” she said. “Take the book away, for I know that if
+I read any more of it I shall betray your secret to all the house. They
+will read it on my face every time I look at you.”
+
+“I think that the hour has come for me to relieve you of the precious
+book,” said Fanny. “There is the letter from Mr. Lowndes asking me to
+make out the list of errata as quickly as possible, and I do believe
+that I shall have to read the book before I can oblige him.”
+
+“'Twas thoughtless for me to jump into the middle as I did, when you had
+to read it,” cried Susy. “But there is really no mistake on any page, so
+far as I could see.”
+
+“Unless the whole is a mistake,” said Fanny. “But I will not suggest that
+now, having seen your face while you were devouring it. Dear Susy, if I
+find many such readers I shall be happy.”
+
+She gathered together the loose sheets and carried them off to the
+little room at the top of the house where it was understood she wrote
+her long weekly letter to Mr. Crisp, who had made himself a hermit
+at Chessington, but who, like some other hermits, looked forward
+with impatience to the delightful glimpses of the world which he had
+forsaken, afforded to him on every page written by her.
+
+Susy did not see her again until dinner-time, and by that time the
+younger girl felt that she had herself under such complete control
+that she could preserve inviolate the secret of the authorship until it
+should cease to be a secret. The result of her rigid control of herself
+was that her brother James said to her when they were having tea in the
+drawing-room:
+
+“What was the matter with you at dinner, Sue? You looked as if you were
+aware that something had happened and you were fearful lest it might be
+found out. Have you broken a china ornament, or has the cat been turning
+over the leaves of the 'History of Music' with her claws, and left her
+signature on the morocco of the cover?”
+
+“What nonsense!” cried Susan. “Nothing has happened. What was there to
+happen, prithee tell me?”
+
+“Ah, that is beyond my power,” he replied. “I suppose you girls will
+have your secrets--ay, ay; until some day you reveal them to another
+girl with the strictest of cautions never to let the matter go beyond
+her--and so forth--and so forth. Never mind, I'll not be the one to
+tempt you to blab. I never yet had a secret told to me that was worth
+wasting words over.”
+
+“If I had a secret of importance I think that you would be a safe person
+to tell it to,” said Susy.
+
+“You are right there,” he assented with a nautical wink. “You could find
+in me the safest depository you could wish for; you might safely depend
+upon my forgetting all about it within the hour.”
+
+He did not trouble her any further, but she felt somewhat humiliated
+to think that she had had so little control of herself as to cause her
+brother's suspicions to be aroused. She thought that it would only be a
+matter of minutes when her father or her stepmother would approach her
+with further questions. Happily, however, it seemed that James was the
+keenest observer in the household, for no one put a question to her
+respecting her tell-tale face.
+
+Still she was glad when she found herself safely and snugly in bed and
+so in a position to whisper across the room to her sister Charlotte
+the news that Fanny's novel had been printed and that a copy was safely
+locked up in Fanny's desk, and that it looked lovely in its new form.
+
+Charlotte was greatly excited, but thought that Fanny might have told
+her the news before dinner.
+
+“Poor Fanny! she will have to tell the Padre to-morrow and ask his leave
+to--to do what she has already done without it. Poor Fanny!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+|A FEW days later Dr. Burney was at the point of setting out for
+Chessington to share Mr. Crisp's hermitage until the end of the week. He
+had already said good-bye to the household; but Fanny accompanied him to
+the door. It was her last chance, she knew. She had long ago made up her
+mind that one of her secrets must be told to him, and she had more than
+once, since the printed sheets had been brought to her, tried to
+screw up her courage to the point of telling him, but she had not yet
+succeeded. And now he was going to Chessington for four days, and in
+the meantime the book should be returned to the printer. It was the last
+chance she would have of discharging the duty which was incumbent on
+her. She had been hovering around him in the hall, shaking out his
+gloves for him, polishing the gold knob of his cane, picking a scrap of
+dust from the collar of his travelling-cloak. In another minute he would
+be gone--her opportunity would be gone.
+
+And then came the relieving thought of further procrastination:
+
+“I shall write to him at Chessington and confess all.”
+
+It seemed as though she had uttered her thought aloud, for he turned to
+her with his hand on the latch of the hall door, saying:
+
+“You will write to Chessington to-morrow or the day after, my dear. It
+is no trouble to you to write. You enjoy it, do you not?”
+
+“Oh, it is my chief enjoyment. That is why I have been practising it
+so much, just as the others have been practising their music. I have no
+music in my soul, so I--I have been writing. Of course, it is not to be
+expected that I could do more than write some nonsense--my equivalent to
+the strumming of the scales.”
+
+“It pleases me greatly to hear that,” said he. “But you do yourself an
+injustice; Mr. Crisp never ceases to praise your letters.”
+
+“He is praising his own pupil then,” said she, “for 'twas he who first
+taught me how to write, and now I have been putting together some
+imaginary letters, and I thought that if he could see them printed in
+front of him he would be amused.”
+
+“Imaginary letters? Why not continue your real ones, my dear? It would
+cost a great deal to have your imaginary ones printed.”
+
+“My dear father,” she cried, “you surely do not think that I would ask
+you for money to pay for my whim? But if I could prevail on someone--a
+bookseller--to print what I write, I hope you will consent to my doing
+so--not putting my name to the thing, of course?”
+
+“And does my Fanny believe that 'tis all so easy to persuade a
+bookseller to pay her printer's bill?” he said, pinching her ear.
+“Booksellers are shrewd men of business.”
+
+“But even men of business have their weak moments,” said she. “And
+so if--if--you would not think it too bold of me to let James take my
+parcel to a bookseller? You would not forbid me to try to realize my
+ambition?”
+
+“You may be sure that the one to frustrate your aims will not be your
+father,” said he, smiling shrewdly. “I will consent if--ah, there is
+the fatal if--if your bookseller consents. Now goodbye, my dear child.
+I will take your love to your Daddy Crisp, and tell him to await a real
+letter from you--not an imaginary one.”
+
+She stood on tiptoe to kiss him--but even then he had to stoop before
+his lips were on her forehead.
+
+He was gone in another moment. She stood at the inner side of the closed
+door and listened to the rattling of the wheels of the chaise over the
+cobble-stones.
+
+So the ordeal that she dreaded had been faced, and how simple a thing it
+had turned out after all! Her father had treated the idea which she
+had submitted to him as if it were nothing beyond the thought of a
+simpleton--a foolish, simple girl who knew nothing of the world of
+business and booksellers, and who fancied that a bookseller would print
+everything that was sent to him.
+
+He had delivered that contingent “if” with the shake of the head and the
+shrewd smile of one who is acquainted with the seamy side of
+business, in the presence of a child who fancies that printing follows
+automatically upon the writing of a book and that there are thousands
+of buyers eagerly awaiting the chance of securing everything that passes
+through a printing-press. She had perceived just what was in his mind;
+and his consent, followed by that contingent “if,” to her publishing
+what she had written, was given to her with the same freedom that would
+have accompanied his permission to appropriate all the gold used in
+paving the streets of the City. She could see from the way he smiled
+that he felt that she knew as little about the conditions under which
+books are printed as a child does about the paving of the streets of the
+City.
+
+She knew that he would never again refer to the subject of those
+imaginary letters of hers--he would be too considerate of her feelings
+to do so; he would have no desire to humiliate her. He would not even
+rally her in a playful way about her literary work, asking her how the
+printing was progressing, and if she had made up her mind to start a
+coach as grand as that magnificent piece of carved and gilded furniture
+which Sir Joshua had just had built for himself--oh, no: her father
+had always respected her sensibility. Years ago, when her brothers and
+sisters were making their light jests upon her backwardness, he had
+stopped them and said that he had no fears for the future of Fanny; and
+she was certain that in referring to her, as he so frequently did, as
+“poor Fanny,” he meant nothing but kindness to her. To be sure, at
+first it grated upon her sensitiveness to be referred to in that kindly
+pitying way, but she did not resent it--indeed, she usually thought of
+herself as “poor Fanny.” In a household where proficiency in music was
+the standard from which every member was judged, it was inevitable that
+her incompetence should be impressed upon her; but no one was hard upon
+her--the kindly “poor Fanny” of her father represented the attitude
+of the household toward her, even when she had confided to some of the
+members the fact that she was writing a novel. They had been startled;
+but, then, a novel was not a musical composition, and such an
+achievement could not be received with the warmth that Esther's playing
+received. It was really not until the printed sheets of the book lay
+before Susy that she felt that Fanny had, in one leap, brought herself
+well-nigh to the level of Esther; and by the time Susy had read the
+story to the end she had made up her mind that if it might be possible
+to compare the interest of a literary work with that of the playing of
+a piece of music, Fanny's work could claim precedence over the best that
+Esther had done--she had confessed as much to Fanny in secret, and Fanny
+had called her a foolish child.
+
+Fanny had seated herself in the parlour opening off the little hall, on
+the departure of her father, and her memory took her back to the days
+she had passed in the house at Poland Street, when she had written her
+story of Caroline Evelyn, and had been induced by her stepmother to burn
+it, with sundry dramas and literary moralizings after the manner of the
+_Tatler_--all the work of her early youth. She recalled her resolution
+never again to engage in any such unprofitable practices as were
+represented by the smoke which was ascending from the funeral pyre of
+her “Caroline Evelyn” and the rest.
+
+How long had she kept to her resolution? She could not remember. She
+could not recall having any sense of guilt when she had begun her
+“Evelina”--it seemed to have sprung from the ashes of “Caroline
+Evelyn”--nor could she recollect what had been on her mind when she was
+spending those long chilly hours of her restricted leisure toiling over
+the book. All that she could remember now was her feeling that it had
+to be written--that it seemed as if someone in authority had laid on her
+the injunction to write it, and she had no choice but to obey.
+
+Well, she had obeyed--the book had been written and printed and she
+meant to send the corrected sheets back to Mr. Lowndes in the course of
+the day. Her father's consent to its publication had been obtained and
+it would be advertised for sale within some months, and then----
+
+Her imagination was not equal to the pursuit of the question of its
+future. Sometimes she felt that she never wished to hear of the book
+again. She could almost hope that sending the sheets back to Mr. Lowndes
+would be the same as dropping them, with a heavy stone in the parcel,
+into the deep sea.
+
+But that was when the trouble of getting her father's permission
+to publish it was looming before her. Now that this cloud had been
+dispelled she felt less gloomy. She had a roseate dream of hearing
+people talk about the book and even wishing to know the name of the
+author. She had a dream of Fame herself carrying her away to sublime
+heights--to such heights as she had been borne by the singing of “Waft
+her, Angels.” Her dream was of sitting on these heights of Fame by the
+side of the singer--on the same level--not inferior in the eyes of the
+world--not as the beggar maid uplifted in her rags to the side of the
+King.
+
+That had been her dream when listening to the singing, and it returned
+to her now, as she sat alone in the little parlour, having just taken
+the last step that was necessary before giving to the world the book
+which was to do so much for her. Her visions of success showed her no
+more entrancing a prospect than that of being by his side with her fame
+as a dowry worthy of his acceptance at her hands; so that people might
+not say that he had chosen unworthily--he, who had all the world to
+choose from.
+
+And quite naturally there came to her in due sequence the marvellous
+thought that he had already chosen her out of all the world--he
+had chosen her, believing her to be the dowerless daughter of a
+music-teacher--the one uninteresting member of a popular family!
+
+This was the most delightful thought of the whole train that came
+to her. It was worth cherishing above all the rest--close to her
+heart--close to her heart. She hugged that thought so close to her that
+it became warm with the warmth of her heart. Even though her book should
+never be heard of again, even though the world might treat it with
+contempt, she would still be consoled by the reflection that he had
+chosen her.
+
+*****
+
+“Why on earth should you be sitting here in the cold, Fanny?” came the
+voice from the opened door--the voice of firm domestic virtue.
+
+“Cold? cold? Surely 'Tis not cold, mamma,” she said.
+
+“Not so very cold; but when there is a fire in the work-room it should
+not be wasted,” said Mrs. Burney. “But to say the truth you do not look
+as if you were cold; your face is quite flushed, child. I hope you do
+not feel that you are on the brink of a sickness, my dear.”
+
+“Dear mamma, I never felt stronger in my life,” cried Fanny with a
+laugh.
+
+“I am glad to hear that. I was saying to Lottie just now that for some
+days past you have had alternately a worried look and the look of one
+whose brain is over-excited. Is anything the matter, my child?”
+
+“Nothing--nothing--indeed nothing! I never felt more at ease in all my
+life.”
+
+“Well, well, a little exercise will do you no harm, I am sure; so put on
+your hat and accompany me to the fishmonger's. He has not been treating
+us at all fairly of late. It is not that I mind the remark made quite
+respectfully by James at dinner yesterday--it would be ridiculous to
+expect to find fish as fresh in the centre of London as he and his
+shipmates were accustomed to in the middle of the Pacific Ocean; but it
+would not be unreasonable for us to look for turbot with less of a taint
+than that we had yesterday. You will hear the man excuse himself
+by asserting that I chose the fish at his stall; but my answer to
+that--well, come with me and you shall hear what is my answer.”
+
+Fanny went with her and heard.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+|THE faithful Cousin Edward had carried the sheets of “Evelina” to Mr.
+Lowndes's shop, with her list of errata, sisters Lottie and Susy
+giving him ample instructions as to the disguise he should assume in
+discharging that duty; it would be terrible, they thought, if the secret
+which they had so carefully guarded for so long should be revealed just
+when it was most important that it should be kept. Their imagination
+was keen enough to suggest to them the possibility of good Mr.
+Lowdnes setting a watch upon the people entering his shop, and giving
+instructions that the bearer of the parcel of “Evelina” should be
+detained and brought into his presence to be questioned.
+
+They advised that Edward should muffle up his face well before going
+into the shop, and then lay down his parcel and fly like the wind--that
+would be the best way of defeating the curiosity of the bookseller.
+
+But Edward was of the opinion that such a course of action might
+possibly only stimulate the man's curiosity as well as that of the
+people in the street, and the cry of “Stop thief!” might bring his
+frantic flight to a standstill. He thought that the most artful course
+to adopt would be to hang around the shop until he found that several
+customers were within; then he would enter quite casually and wait until
+Mr. Lowndes had served one customer and was about to attend to another.
+If the parcel were thrust into his hands during this interval, he,
+Edward, would have a good chance of getting safely away before Mr.
+Lowndes should have time to examine its contents.
+
+They were rather struck with his idea, and he got permission to put it
+into practice; but in any case he must take the greatest care of the
+parcel; valuable parcels were snatched out of people's hands every day.
+
+He smiled.
+
+In another hour he was back at the house in St. Martin's Street to
+report to them the safe delivery of the precious parcel. After all, he
+had had nothing more exciting to do than to place it on a counter--the
+elderly gentleman with a pen behind his ear had not even taken the
+trouble to rise from his stool to receive it.
+
+“Parcel for Mr. Lowndes? All right. Leave it there”--those were the
+exact words with which the parcel was received, Edward reported--the
+clerk was buried in his ledger before he had left the shop.
+
+The girls were not a little disappointed at this very tame conclusion of
+what they expected would have been an exciting episode; and to say the
+truth, their chagrin was shared by Cousin Edward.
+
+He had looked for his resources of artfulness to be drawn on in the
+transaction--perhaps even his physical qualifications for the defence of
+the sacred secret as well. He felt as a strong man might feel on going
+forth to meet a giant, to find himself confronted by a dwarf. The
+mission was unworthy of his powers. Fanny's thanks heartily given to
+him, with the repeated assurance that, but for him, the affair could
+never have been carried out, scarcely compensated him for the tameness
+of the affair.
+
+For the next month or two it was a busy household in St. Martin's
+Street. Lieutenant Burney was joining his ship for another long voyage,
+and he had to be provided with a fresh outfit. The stitching that went
+on in the work-room surpassed even that maintained during the months
+preceding Esther's marriage; but the labour was lightened upon more
+than one occasion by the appearance of Mr. Garrick. Mr. Garrick had the
+freedom of the house in St. Martin's Street, as he had had that of the
+Poland Street domicile, where he had so often spent hours amusing the
+children with his inimitable drolleries.
+
+But Mrs. Burney thought he went a little too far in taking off their
+friends, and even their own father, though his malicious touches were as
+light as the pinches of Puck. He had been paying a visit to Mr. and Mrs.
+Kendal, and he convulsed even Mrs. Burney by his acting of the scene of
+his reception by them, the lady much more coy than she had ever been at
+the Wells, and the gentleman overflowing in his attentions to her; but
+both of them esteeming him as their benefactor.
+
+And they were so well satisfied with the honourable estate to which he
+had called them, that they appeared to be spending all their time
+trying to bring about matches among their acquaintance. No matter how
+unsuitable some of the projected unions seemed, no matter how unlikely
+some of the people were to do credit to their discrimination, they
+seemed determined that none should escape “the blissful bondage”--that
+was Mr. Kendal's neat phrase. Mr. Garrick repeated it with a smile that
+made his audience fancy that Mr. Kendal was before them.
+
+“'The blissful bondage--that's what I term it, sir,'” said Mr. Kendal,
+through Mr. Garrick. “'But the worst of the matter is, Mr. Garrick,
+that we have nearly exhausted our own circle of friends'--'I can easily
+believe that, sir,' interposed Mr. Garrick--' and so we feel it our duty
+to fall back upon you.' 'Lud, sir,' cried Mr. Garrick, jumping a step or
+two back as if to avoid a heavy impact--'Lud, sir! a little man like me!
+I should be crushed as flat as a black beetle.' 'Nay, sir, I mean that
+we are compelled to ask you for a list of a few of your friends who,
+you think, should be brought together--half a dozen of each sex would be
+sufficient to begin with.'”
+
+“Of course I demurred,” said Garrick, telling his story, “but before
+'the blissful bondage' had been repeated more than a score of times I
+began to think of all against whom I bore a grudge--here was clearly the
+means of getting level with them; the only trouble with me was that
+I found myself confounding the people who bore me a grudge with those
+against whom I bore a grudge--the former are plentiful, the latter very
+meagre in number. With the exception of a few very dear animosities
+which I was hoarding up to make old age endurable, I have killed off all
+my enemies, and was forced, like Mr. Kendal, to fall back on my friends;
+but even among these I could find few that I could honestly say
+were deserving of such a fate as I was asked to nominate them for. I
+ventured, however, to mention the name of Lieutenant Burney, of His
+Majesty's Fleet, coupling it with--I could not at first think of an
+appropriate partner for James, but at last I hit upon exactly the right
+lady.”
+
+“What! a splice before I set sail next week?” cried Jim. “That's good
+news, sir. And the lady's name, if you please, and her address. Give me
+my hat, Susy; there is no time to be lost. A splice in a trice. Come,
+Mr. Garrick, her name? Cannot you see that I am hanging in stays until
+you tell me who she is?”
+
+“She is a very pleasant lady, sir. I can assure you of that,” said
+Garrick. “Not too tall even with her hair built _à la mode_; a pleasant
+smile, and a happy way of conversing. In short, Lieutenant Burney, I can
+strongly recommend the lady, for I have known her for the past twenty
+years and more, and from the first she was a staid, sensible person--the
+very partner for a sailor, sir, being so contrary to him in every
+point.”
+
+“Hark'ee, Mr. Garrick; though I don't quite see myself in tow of such a
+state barge, I'll trouble you to relieve my suspense by telling me her
+name.”
+
+“I have more than once thought when I was young that she would make me
+an excellent wife,” said Garrick; “but I soon perceived that I was not
+good enough for her. She has always been an exemplary sister, and I saw
+that, try as I might, I could never become her equal in that respect;
+and for married happiness, my boy, there is nothing like----”
+
+“Her name--her name?” shrieked the girls.
+
+The actor looked at them with pained surprise on every feature.
+
+“Her name?” he said. “Surely I have described her very badly if you have
+not recognized the portrait. But, for that matter, I have often felt how
+inadequate are words to describe character combined with grace--a
+nature inclined to seriousness in conjunction with a desire to
+attract--loftiness of purpose linked with a certain daintiness----”
+
+He made a few gestures with his hands, keeping his elbows close to his
+side, and then imitated the spreading of a capacious skirt preparatory
+to sinking in a curtsey, and in a moment there was a cry from every part
+of the room of “Miss Reynolds--Miss Reynolds!”
+
+“And who has a word to say against Miss Reynolds?” cried the actor.
+
+“No one--no one,” said Fanny. “Character combined with grace--Miss
+Reynolds linked with Lieutenant Burney.”
+
+“She would make a fine sheet anchor for an Admiral of the Blue,” laughed
+Jim. “And with your permission, sir, I will postpone my offer until I
+have attained that rank.”
+
+“I have advised Mr. Kendal to hurry things on,” said Garrick gravely.
+“For if you have time to spare before making up your mind, the lady
+cannot reasonably be thought equally fortunate. 'Lieutenant Burney, your
+attitude is not complimentary to the blissful bondage'”--once more it
+was Mr. Kendal who was in the room.
+
+“Call the roll,” said Jim. “Who comes next on your list, Mr. Garrick?”
+
+“Well, I was thinking of Dr. Johnson with Mrs. Abington,” said Garrick;
+“but perhaps you may quibble even at that.”
+
+The room rang with laughter, for everyone had seen the beautiful actress
+whose lead in dress was followed by all the ladies in the fashionable
+world who could afford to do so, and a greater number who could not; and
+the worsted hose and scorched wig, two sizes too small, of Dr. Johnson
+had been gazed at with awe by the Burney family when he visited the
+house in St. Martin's Street.
+
+“Let the banns be published without delay,” cried Jim. “Next pair,
+please.”
+
+“Well, I was thinking of Signor Rauzzini and Mrs. Montagu,” said
+Garrick, “but perhaps that would not be approved of by you any more than
+the others.”
+
+“Nay, Mr. Garrick, I will not have our friends made any longer the
+subject of your fooling,” said Mrs. Burney.
+
+Garrick and Jim had the laugh between them, but it seemed that they
+alone saw the jest of coupling the lively Roman with the mature leader
+of the bluestockings: the girls bent silently over their work.
+
+“Madam,” said Garrick apologetically, “I ask your pardon for my
+imprudence. May I ask which name I am to withdraw? Was my offence the
+introduction of the lady's name or the gentleman's? Oh, I can guess.
+Those rosy-tinted faces before me--I vow that you will find yourself
+going to sea with a chestful of pink shirts, Lieutenant--those sweet
+blushing faces reveal the secret more eloquently than any words could
+do.”
+
+Undoubtedly the three girls were blushing very prettily; but at the
+mention of the word “secret” two of them gave a little start, but
+without looking up.
+
+“The secret--oh, I have been feeling for some time that I was well to
+the leeward of a secret,” cried Jim, “and I'll not start tack or sheet
+until I learn what it is.”
+
+“What, sir; you a sailor and not able to penetrate the secret of a
+pretty girl's blushes!” cried Garrick.
+
+The brother looked at each of his sisters in turn. They continued
+stitching away demurely at his shirts.
+
+“Helm's a-lee,” he said. “Ready about, and off we go on another tack,
+for hang me if I see anything of guilt on their faces, bless 'em! Come,
+Mr. Garrick, you shall interpret them for me. Let me into the secret
+which you say you have read as if it was a book.”
+
+Susy gave a sharp cry.
+
+“The needle!” she said. “That is the third time it has pricked me since
+morning.”
+
+“Pay no attention to her, sir,” cried Garrick. “It was a feint on her
+part to put us off the scent of the secret.”
+
+“In heaven's name, then, let us have it,” cried Jim.
+
+“If you will have it, here it is,” said Garrick. “Your three sisters,
+Mr. Burney, are contemplating applying to Mrs. Montagu to be admitted to
+the freedom and the livery of the Society of Bluestockings. That is why
+they thought it akin to sacrilege for me to introduce the lady's name
+into a jest. Their blush was but a reflex of their guilty intention.”
+
+“Indeed, Mr. Garrick, you go too far sometimes,” said Mrs. Burney. “Mrs.
+Montagu is a worthy lady, and our girls respect her too highly to fancy
+that they have any qualification to be received into her literary set.”
+
+“Faith, Madam, I know my duty too well, I hope, to accuse any of the
+Miss Burneys of possessing literary qualities,” said Garrick. “But what
+I do say is that if such qualities as they possess were to be introduced
+into Mrs. Montagu's set, it would quickly become the most popular
+drawing-room in town. The idea of thinking that any young woman would go
+to the trouble of writing a book when she can reach the heart of mankind
+so much more easily by blushing over the breast of a shirt! Continue
+stitching and doing your own blushing, dear children, and you will never
+give anyone cause to blush for you.”
+
+He bowed elaborately to each of them in turn and afterward to Mrs.
+Burney, and made a most effective exit. He always knew when he should
+go, and never failed to leave a few fragrant phrases behind him, as
+though he had dropped a bunch of roses for the girls to cherish.
+
+“Where should we be without Mr. Garrick?” said James, when he had seen
+the actor to the door and returned to the work-room.
+
+“If only he would not go too far in his jesting,” remarked Mrs. Burney,
+shaking her head. “Mr. Garrick sometimes forgets himself.”
+
+“That is how it comes that he is the greatest actor in the world,” said
+James. “It is only when a man has learned to forget himself completely
+that he causes everyone else to remember him. Now there's the text for a
+homily that you can write to your Daddy Crisp, Fanny.”
+
+“I'll note it, Jim, and if Mr. Crisp breaks off correspondence with me
+you shall bear the blame,” said Fanny.
+
+“Mercy on us!” whispered Susy when she was alone with her sister a
+little later. “I never got such a fright as when Mr. Garrick pretended
+to read your secret. Thank goodness! he failed to get the least inkling
+of it.”
+
+“Thank goodness, indeed!” whispered Fanny. But she was thinking of quite
+a different secret when she spoke.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+|HE was beside her before she was aware of it, in the great music-room
+at Lady Hales's house. She had not seen him approach her--she could
+not have done so without turning round, for he had approached her from
+behind, and slipped into the chair that Esther had vacated in order to
+play to the company. Esther's husband, who had been in the seat beyond
+her, had been led away some time earlier by Mr. Linley's clever son in
+order that he might give an opinion respecting one of the songs in a
+piece named _The Duenna_, which was about to be produced at Drury Lane.
+
+He was beside her and whispering in her ear, though she had not even
+known that he was to be present.
+
+Of course he went through the pantomimic form of inquiring how it was
+that she was alone--this was, she knew, for the benefit of anyone who
+might be watching them and suspect an assignation. The idea of anyone
+seriously fancying that Dr. Burney's daughter would have an assignation
+with Signor Rauzzini in such a place and in the midst of such a company!
+But Signor Rauzzini came from a land of intrigue, and his experience of
+England led him to believe that he had come to another; and so he made
+those gestures of inquiry, and she gave him a few words of explanation,
+so that no one might suspect! But, for that matter, their chairs were
+in the least conspicuous place in the room, and the shadow of the heavy
+hangings of a window fell half across them both.
+
+“And we have not met for months,” said he in French.
+
+“Nay, have you forgotten our evening at the Pantheon?” she asked.
+
+“Forgotten it? But that is months ago--ages. And it was all
+unfinished--broken off when at its best--mutilated. That hour we had!
+Oh, was it a melody suddenly interrupted when it was approaching its
+best? Was it a poem snatched away by some ruthless hand just when we had
+begun a deathless line?”
+
+“What I remember best is your singing of 'Waft her.' I am not quite sure
+that I have yet returned to the earth from those regions whither I felt
+myself wafted. Are you conscious of having any part in _Dido_ into which
+you can throw yourself with the same spirit?”
+
+“_Dido!_ pah! _Dido_ is a paltry playhouse--Maestro Handel's work is a
+Sistine Chapel--ah, more--more--a noble cathedral. When other composers
+built their garden houses in imitation of Greek temples, he
+spent all his time raising cathedrals. His genius is his
+own--mighty--overpowering! Every time I approach the great _maestro_ I
+feel that I should put off my shoes from my feet. It is holy ground--it
+is--ah, mademoiselle, it was you who led me to chatter of myself and my
+music when we were last together, and I had no wish to do so; I meant to
+talk of yourself alone, but we had parted before I had the chance again.
+I have been wondering ever since if such a chance would return--if I
+had not thrown it away; and now you have lured me once more toward the
+golden net of music; but I have seen it spread: I will not step into it.
+I want to talk to you of love--love and you--and--me.”
+
+He had restrained his voice so that it was no more than a whisper, and
+he had chastened his gestures until he seemed rigid. Fanny knew that
+even if their chairs had not been far away from the next that were
+occupied, his words could reach no ears but her own; but the effort that
+he was making to restrain his gestures--oh, was it not more significant
+to any observant eye than his most florid action would have been? With
+bent head she was conscious of the quivering of the muscles of his
+clenched hands--of the tremulous earnestness of his expressive face.
+Surely everyone who so much as glanced at him would know what was the
+subject of his discourse--and hers--hers--but what should hers be? What
+answer was she to make to such a man whispering such a word as love?
+
+“I am afraid,” she said. “You make me afraid. Is this the place? Is this
+the time? Am I the one?”
+
+“Every place is the place--every time is the time--and you--you are the
+only one,” said he, becoming more fervent every moment. “If you and I
+were alone--but we are alone--our love isolates us--we are alone in the
+splendid isolation of our love. What are these people who are about
+us? They are nothing to us--less than nothing, What are the people in
+a church to the devout one who enters and keeps his eyes fixed upon
+the lovely face of the saint to whom he prays. The saint and he are in
+communion together, and their communion isolates them though the church
+is crowded? I keep my eyes of devotion upon your face, my beautiful
+saint, and I am rapt with the glory of this hour--we are carried away
+on the wings of our love until the world is too far beneath us to be
+seen--only the heaven is revealed to us--to me--I look into your face
+and I have a glimpse of heaven itself! Ah, gentle saint, you will not
+deny me a response--one word--only lift up your eyes--let our eyes meet
+and it will be as if our lips had met. I am but a mortal, but I feel,
+gazing into the face of my saint, as if I were immortal--immortal and
+crossing the threshold of the heaven that is hers--I feel that we are
+equal----”
+
+She drew in her breath--the sound was something like a gasp--the gasp
+of one who has been swept away into the midst of a swirling sea and made
+breathless. She had been swept away on the amazing flood of his words;
+it was not until he had said that word “equal” that she felt herself
+swirled into the air once more, so to speak, and gave that gasp for
+breath: he, too, was breathless after his long and fervid outburst,
+repressed as to tone, but sounding therefore all the more passionate.
+Her gasp sounded like a sigh; his like a sob.
+
+“Not yet--not yet,” she said in a whisper--disjointed and staccato. “I
+cannot listen to you yet. I dare not--I have my pride.”
+
+“Pride? What is pride? How have I wounded your pride?” he said. “Ah,
+my God! you cannot think that I would propose anything that is not
+honourable? You do not look on me as such a wretch? Ah, you cannot.”
+
+“Oh, no, no,” she said quickly. “I would trust you. I have looked into
+your face. I have heard you sing.”
+
+“You place your faith in me? But you cannot do that unless you love me.
+And if you love me--have I been too headlong? Have I startled you? But
+surely you must have seen that on the very first day we met, before I
+had been an hour in your presence, my life was yours. I tell you that
+I knew it--not an hour--one glance was enough to tell me that I was
+all yours, and that for me no other one lived or would ever live in the
+world. What have you to say? Do not you believe me? What did you mean
+by that word 'pride'? It does not seem to me that it had any connection
+with you or me.”
+
+“Do not ask me to explain anything just now,” she said. “You would not
+like to be asked to explain how you came to--to--think of me--to feel in
+regard to me as you have said you do----”
+
+“Why should I shrink from it?” he asked. “But no one who has seen you
+would put such a question to me. I loved you because you were--_you_. Is
+not that enough? It would be sufficient for anyone who knew you. I saw
+you sitting there--so sweetly timid--a little flower that is so startled
+to find itself awakened into life in the spring, that it would fain
+ask the earth to hide it again. I thought of you as that modest little
+flower--a violet trying to obscure its own charm by the leaves that
+surround it; but all in vain--in vain, for its presence has given a
+subtle perfume to the air, and all who breathe of its delicate sweetness
+take the spirit of the spring into their souls and know that a violet
+is there, though hidden from their view. That is how I saw you. I have
+always loved the violet, and felt that shyness and sweetness were ever
+one; and am I to be reproached if I have a longing to pluck my violet
+and have her ever with me?”
+
+“This is madness--the poetry of madness,” she cried, and there was
+really a piteous note in her voice. “But if I did not believe that you
+feel every word that you have spoken, I would let you continue, and
+drink in the sweetness of every word that falls from your lips. It is
+because I know that you are speaking from your heart and because I also
+know my own unworthiness that I pray of you to say no more--yet.”
+
+“Why should I not tell you the truth, if you confess that you believe I
+am speaking sincerely?”
+
+“Sincerely, but in a dream.”
+
+“Is all love a dream, then?--is that what is in your thought?”
+
+“I do not want it to be a dream. I wish the love to continue with your
+eyes open, and therefore I say--not yet.”
+
+“You wish my love to continue? Oh, never doubt that your wish shall be
+granted. But why that 'not yet '? I am weary of this mystery.”
+
+She was perplexed. Why should she hold out any longer against this
+impetuous Prince of the land of King Cophetua? Why should she not be as
+other girls who allow themselves to be lifted out of insignificance by
+the man who loves them. Why should that gift of being able to see more
+closely into the truth of things that most others accept without a
+question, be laid upon her as a burden?
+
+She had a strong impulse to let her resolution go down the wind, and to
+put her hand in his, no matter who might be looking on, and say the word
+to him that would give him happiness. Who was she to suggest that his
+happiness would not endure--that her happiness would not endure?
+
+She was perplexed. She had more than once been called prim; but that
+only meant that it was her nature to weigh everything in a mental
+balance, as it were, and her imagination was equal (she thought) to the
+task of assigning their relative value to the many constituents of human
+happiness. If she had been told that this meant that she had not yet
+been in love, and that she was not now in love, she would not have felt
+uneasy in her mind. She did not mistrust the feeling she had for the man
+who was beside her. Surely this was the very spirit of truth in loving,
+to be ready to sacrifice everything, so that unhappiness should not
+overtake him; and she had long ago felt that unhappiness only could
+result from his linking his life with one who was rather less than a
+mere nobody. The thought never once left her mind of what would be
+said when it was known that she had married him. A dunce's triumph, the
+incident would be styled by the wits, and (assuming that the wits were
+masculine) how would it be styled by the opposite sex? She could see
+uplifted hands--incredulous eyebrows raised, while they discussed it,
+and she knew that the conclusion that everyone would come to was that to
+be the most divine singer in the world did not save a man from being the
+greatest fool in the world.
+
+Was her love the less true because her intelligence insisted on her
+perceiving that such a man as Signor Rauzzini would not be happy if
+married to a nonentity like herself? “Surely not,” she would have
+cried. “Surely it is only the truest of all loves that would be ready
+to relinquish its object rather than bring unhappiness upon him! Is
+intelligence never to be found in association with true love? Must true
+love and folly ever be regarded as allies?”
+
+Her intellect was quick in apprehending the strength of the position
+taken up by two combatants in an argument; but the juxtaposition of the
+Prim and the Passionate was too much for her. She was all intellect; he
+was all passion. Her mental outlook on the situation was acute; but his
+was non-existent. His passion blinded him; her intellect had a thousand
+eyes.
+
+And there he was by her side; she could almost hear the strong beating
+of his heart in the pause that followed his question.
+
+“What is this mystery?”
+
+It was her feeling of this tumultuous beating of his heart that all but
+made her lose her intellectual foothold. His heart beating close to hers
+swayed her as the moon sways the tides, until for some moments she
+could not have told whether it was her heart or his that was beating
+so wildly--only for some moments, however; only long enough for that
+madness to suggest itself to her--to let her resolution fly to the
+winds--what did anything matter so long as she could lay her hand in
+his, and feel his fingers warm over hers? It was her first acquaintance
+with the tyranny of a heart aflame, and for a moment she bent her
+head before it. He thought that he had got the better of her scruples,
+whatever they were, by the way her voice broke as she said:
+
+“Madness--it would be madness!”
+
+He was not acute enough to perceive that she was talking to
+herself--trying to bring her reason to help her to hold out against the
+throbbing of her heart--_his_ heart.
+
+“It would indeed be madness for us to turn our backs upon happiness when
+it is within our reach,” said he. “That is what you would say, sweet
+saint?”
+
+But she had now recovered herself.
+
+“Indeed it is because I have no thought except for your happiness that I
+entreat of you to listen to me,” said Fanny.
+
+“I will listen to you if you tell me in one word that you love me,” said
+he.
+
+There was no pause before she turned her eyes upon him saying:
+
+“You know it. You have never doubted it. It is because I love you so
+truly I wish to save you from unhappiness. I want to hold your love for
+ever and ever.”
+
+“My sweet saint! You have heard my prayers. You are to make me happy.”
+
+“All that I can promise as yet is to save you from supreme unhappiness.
+I am strong enough to do so, I think.”
+
+“You can save me from every unhappiness if you will come to me--and you
+are coming, I know.”
+
+“I hope that if you ask me three months hence I shall be able to say
+'yes'; but now--at this moment--I dare not. It is not so long to ask you
+to wait, seeing that I have let you have a glimpse of my heart, and told
+you that as you feel for me, so I feel for you.”
+
+“Three months is an eternity! Why should it be in three months? Why not
+now?”
+
+She shook her head.
+
+“I cannot tell you. It is my little secret,” she said. “Ah, is it not
+enough that I have told you I love you? I shall never cease to love
+you.”
+
+“Oh, this accursed place! These accursed people!” he murmured. “Why are
+we fated to meet only surrounded by these wretches? Why cannot we meet
+where I can have you in _my_ arms, and kiss your lips that were made for
+kissing?”
+
+There was something terrifying to her in that low whisper of his. He had
+put his head down to her until his lips were close to her ear. She felt
+the warmth of his face; it made her own burn. But she could not move her
+face away to the extent of an inch. Her feminine instinct of flight was
+succeeded by the equally feminine instinct of surrender. If it had been
+his intention--and it certainly seemed that it was--to kiss her in the
+presence of all the company, she would still have been incapable of
+avoiding such a caress.
+
+He swore again in her ear, and Fanny, for all her primness, felt a
+regret deep down in her heart that her training would not allow of her
+expressing herself through the same medium.
+
+But he did not come any nearer to her than that. He changed his phrases
+of abuse of their entourage to words of delight at her presence so close
+to him--alternately passionate and tender. His voice became a song in
+her ears, containing all such variations. His vocalism was equal to the
+demand put upon it. It was his _métier_ to interpret such emotions, and
+now he did justice to his training, even if he fell short--and he was
+conscious of doing so--of dealing adequately with his own feelings.
+He called her once again his sweet saint who had heard his prayer; his
+cherished flower, whose fragrance was more grateful to him than all the
+incense burned in all the temples of the world was to the Powers above.
+
+It was, he repeated, her violet modesty that had first made him adore
+her. Her humility brought before his eyes the picture painted by Guido
+Reni--the Madonna saying: _Ecce ancilla Domini_.
+
+Ah, her humility was divine. And she was so like his mother--his dear
+mother who had died when he was a boy and who had taught him to sing.
+Ah, she was herself now singing in Paradise, and she would look down
+and approve his choice. She, too, had been as meek as a flower, and had
+never been so happy as when they had been together at a little farm in
+Tuscany with him by her side among the olives. Oh, she would approve
+his choice. And quite simply he addressed his dead mother, as though
+she were beside him, asking her if she could desire to have a daughter
+sweeter or more gentle. He had lapsed into his native Italian in this;
+but Fanny could follow his slow, devout words, and her eyes were full of
+tears, her heart of love.
+
+She now perceived how simple and gentle a nature was that of the young
+Roman. He remained unspoilt by the adulation which he had received
+both in his own country and in England. Seeing him thus revealing a
+simplicity which she had not associated with him before, she was led to
+ask herself if there was, after all, so great a difference between them
+as she had believed to exist. She had forgotten all about his singing,
+and he was now in her eyes nothing more than a man--the man who loved
+her. Ah, that was enough. He loved her, and therefore she was bound to
+save him from the mortification of hearing the whispers of the people
+around them asking how he could ever have been stupid enough to marry a
+girl like herself, who was a nobody and without a fortune, when he might
+have chosen any girl in the world.
+
+Her resolution came back to her with greater force than ever. Since
+he had made his nature plain to her, it would, she felt, be taking
+advantage of his simplicity to engage herself to him just as she was.
+She knew more of the world than he did. She knew how the world talked,
+and how it would talk regarding herself as well as regarding him in such
+a matter. He was simple and generous; it was necessary for her to take
+thought for both of them.
+
+“Have you heard me?” he asked of her in a whisper.
+
+“The tears are still in my eyes,” she replied. “Oh, my dear friend,
+cannot you see how bitter it is for me to be compelled to ask you to
+wait for these months that I spoke of? Cannot you see that it is a
+matter of conscience and honour? Ah, I should never forgive myself if I
+were to do other than I have done! If you----”
+
+“Dear one,” said he, “I ask for nothing more than to hear you tell me
+that you love me. Who am I, that I should demand your secret? So long as
+you do not conceal your love from me, I do not mind if you have a score
+of secrets locked away in your white bosom. Tell me again that you love
+me and all must be well.”
+
+She looked at him, but he knew that she could not see a feature of his
+face by reason of the tears that were still in her eyes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+|IT was on one of the last mornings in January that Mrs. Burney was
+reading out of the newly-arrived _London Chronicle_ such paragraphs as
+she thought would appeal to the varied interests of the breakfast-table.
+There were a few announcements of marriages about to take place between
+people whose names they knew, the amount of the bride's dowry being
+stated in each in plain figures, though Mrs. Burney took it upon her to
+affirm in one or two cases that the sum was exaggerated, or to suggest
+that if the father of the bride were just enough to pay his debts first,
+the portion of his daughter would be considerably reduced. In the case
+of one of the gentlemen, who was marrying thirty thousand pounds, she
+ventured to express the hope that he would now pay at least some of his
+creditors.
+
+These were, of course, the most interesting items of news, though their
+attractiveness was not greatly superior to that of the gossip respecting
+Mr. F------, who had been noticed in high dudgeon because of Lady
+P------'s dancing three times with Sir Julian Y------; or that which
+suggested that a reconcilement must have taken place between the
+beautiful Mrs. G------ and her husband, for they had been seen taking
+the air together in the Park.
+
+It was also pleasant to learn that His Majesty had given great
+encouragement to Mrs. Delany in the production of her ingenious mosaic
+flowers, in which she was so skilled as to excite the wonder of several
+criticks in the Royal circle; and also that His Royal Highness the
+Prince of Wales had been graciously pleased to say in publick that he
+had always admired the Perdita of the beautiful Mrs. Robinson, though he
+considered Mrs. Abington, on the whole, the most tasteful dresser in the
+Drury Lane company.
+
+It was only when Mrs. Burney had folded the newspaper and was about to
+put it away, that a few lines of an advertisement caught her eye--she
+commented before she read, as though she had been a fully qualified
+critic:
+
+“More novels! More stuff for the circulating libraries! Enough to make
+poor Mr. Richardson feel uncomfortable in his grave! Could he but have
+known that he was turning all England into novel readers he would never
+have put pen to paper. Here is another imitator in the field. 'Evelina;
+or, a Young Lady's Entrance into the World,' published to-day by Mr.
+Lowndes--three volumes, seven and sixpence sewed, nine shillings in
+covers. 'Evelina,' a distant cousin to 'Clarissa' and 'Pamela' I doubt
+not. I hope your father will not bring anyone here to dinner to-day.
+Hashed mutton is a wholesome dish, to be sure, but some visitors are
+fastidious. He may bring as many as he pleases to-morrow, for Mr.
+Greville's gift of pheasants will be on the table. Why are you staring
+so at your sister, Lottie?”
+
+Lottie was becoming a hardened dissembler: she scarcely started when
+asked to interpret certain furtive glances she cast at Fanny.
+
+“I was wondering if Fanny would make a face: she never was fond of
+hashed mutton,” said Lottie glibly. “If she had gone to school in France
+she would soon have got a liking for it, cooked as it is there.”
+
+“I am not partial to French kickshaws,” said Mrs. Burney. “There's
+nothing like good English fare. To my thinking, the principle of making
+food tasty when in ordinary circumstances it should not be so, is a bad
+one. Hash of mutton is wholesome food, and it should be eaten as such
+without further question. If Providence had meant it to be tasty as
+well, He would have made His intentions as plain as in the case of roast
+pheasant.”
+
+“Lottie will tell you that I made no face at the mention of hash of
+mutton,” said Fanny. “What does it signify whether one sits down to a
+simple platter of mutton hash or a great dinner such as father gets at
+Mr. Thrale's? A pair of geese, a leg of mutton, a tongue, a rib of roast
+beef and a brace of pheasants, with two or three dishes of fish, and for
+Dr. Johnson a veal pie or a piece of pork--those were on the table at
+one time. What is the benefit of such abundance, when all that one can
+eat is a single slice of beef?”
+
+She spoke rapidly, for she, too, had been a great dissembler. She meant
+to take away her stepmother's attention from those questionable glances
+which she had exchanged with Lottie; and she succeeded very well.
+
+“It would make no difference to us whether we had one dish or ten; but
+it makes all the difference in the world to Mr. Thrale. They say he has
+a prodigious appetite, and eats of at least six heavy dishes of meat at
+dinner.”
+
+“Mr. Baretti affirms that some day he will not awake from the stupor
+into which he falls after one of his heavy meals,” said Susy.
+
+“And all the time Mrs. Thrale is entreating him to be more moderate,”
+ cried Lottie.
+
+“A humiliating duty for such as Mrs. Thrale,” said her mother. “That
+shows how true is all that Fanny has remarked: a simple dish should be
+enough for any reasonable person. I have often wondered how the converse
+at the Streatham table could be so wise and witty if the master of
+the house eats like a hog, and Dr. Johnson, suffering from ill-health,
+expends so much energy over his pork that the veins stand out on his
+forehead and his face is bathed in perspiration.”
+
+“I am sure that Mrs. Thrale has wit and liveliness enough to serve for
+the whole company,” said Fanny.
+
+“She is chatty enough, I doubt not,” replied Mrs. Burney. “There are
+those who think she talks over-much for a woman.”
+
+“Not for a woman of fashion,” suggested Lottie with some pertness, when
+their stepmother had left the room. “It is long since Mrs. Thrale has
+invited mother to one of the Streatham dinners,” she added under her
+breath.
+
+And then the three fell upon the _Chronicle_ for the announcement of the
+book.
+
+They read it in whispers, each following the other, as though it were
+the _piano_ part of a catch or a glee, and glancing fearfully toward the
+door now and again, lest it should open and Mrs. Burney reappear.
+
+“How amazing it is!” said Susy. “This is the announcement of the birth
+of a baby--and such a baby!”
+
+“The birth and the christening and all,” said Lottie. “Oh, Fanny, I
+had no idea that it would be in the papers--I forgot that it would be
+advertised; and when mamma read this out I thought I should sink through
+the floor. So did you, I know.”
+
+“I only wish that it had been possible,” said Fanny. “I could feel
+myself getting hot all over my body. And then you gave me that look,
+Lottie!”
+
+“Could I help it?” asked Lottie. “You cannot blame me. I really thought
+that it was you who gave me a look, as much as to say: 'If you let the
+cat out of the bag I will never forgive you--no, never! '”
+
+“Never mind! Among us we managed to get out of the difficulty very well,
+I think. Were we not clever, guiding the conversation away from Mr.
+Lowndes's shop on to the high road to Streatham?” cried Susy.
+
+“'Twas the hash that saved us,” said Lottie. “Have you not heard dear
+Jim applying the sailors' expression, to make a hash of something? But
+we didn't make a hash of our matter, did we, Fanny?” said Susan.
+
+“We have become adroit dissemblers, and I am growing more ashamed of it
+every day,” cried Fanny. “I have reached the condition of a man of whom
+I read in a volume of history: he had committed a crime, and the effort
+that it cost him to keep it hidden so preyed upon his mind that he could
+stand the strain no longer, so he confessed it and was relieved.”
+
+“But he could not have been really happy until they hanged him,” said
+Susy. “And do you intend to confess and be hanged, Fanny? Please do not.
+I think it is the most exciting thing in the world to share a secret
+like this. I would not have missed the enjoyment for anything. Think,
+Fan, if you were to confess, you would draw us into it too--you would
+make us out to be as guilty as yourself.”
+
+“I will not confess,” said Fanny. “No; it would not be honourable of me.
+But I do feel that the secret is having a bad effect upon us all. It has
+made us all such--such--dissemblers.”
+
+“Psha!” said Lottie with a sniff. “That's only another way of saying
+that we are ladies of quality at an early age.”
+
+Fanny shook her head. She thought that if any proof were needed of the
+ill effects of their treasuring their secret from their parents, this
+cynical pertness of Lottie supplied it. She shook her head.
+
+“I should like 'Evelina' to come into mamma's hands,” continued Lottie.
+“She will go through the three volumes at a hand gallop, even though she
+did take it upon her to condemn it as being on a level with the odious
+stuff that comes to us nowadays.”
+
+“And if she condemns it so heartily before she has read it, what will
+she say about it when she has finished the last chapter?” asked Fanny.
+
+“She will say that it is the prettiest story that has been written since
+her dear Mr. Richardson died,” said Susy.
+
+“I doubt it, my dear,” said Fanny.
+
+“Well, let the worst come, she will never guess that you wrote it,”
+ laughed Lottie.
+
+“It is the padre whom I fear,” said Fanny. “Surely he will not need to
+go beyond the Ode on the first leaf to know that it is he himself whom I
+address.”
+
+“And if he should--smoke it?” asked Susy, lapsing into slang which she
+had acquired from her sailor brother, who was in no sense a purist.
+
+“If he should--well, either of two things will happen,” replied the
+authoress. “He will either think me the most double-dealing wretch in
+the world or the most dutiful of daughters.”
+
+“And which will be right?” asked Lottie.
+
+“Both views will be right,” said Fanny. “Although I meant every word
+of the Ode, I really think now that the idea of writing it before the
+dedication came to me only when I felt that I had behaved badly in
+sending the book to the printer without his consent.”
+
+“You wished the Ode to be a sort of peace-offering?” said Susy. “You
+hoped that when he read it he would forget to be angry? Well, that was
+cunning of you, Fanny!”
+
+“I tell you that the whole affair has had a bad effect upon us all,”
+ said Fanny gently.
+
+Once again she was conscious of someone telling her that there was no
+use crying over spilt milk, and this impression was followed by one that
+took the form of a resolution to be more careful in future. If she
+had spilt some milk once, that was no reason why she should not, by
+exercising proper forethought, refrain from doing so again.
+
+But the book was now given to the world, if the world would have it, but
+as yet a copy had not come into her hand. She wondered if she would
+have to spend seven and sixpence in buying a copy. Seven shillings and
+sixpence, sewed. It was a great deal of money. Was it possible that
+there were five hundred people in the world ready to pay seven and
+sixpence for a novel with the name of no author on the title page?
+(She thought it best to leave out of her consideration altogether the
+possible purchasers of the nine shilling set of bound volumes.)
+
+Who were the people that ever laid out so much money upon books which
+could be read through between the rising and the setting of the sun?
+She had never met such liberal enthusiasts. Of course, it was only
+reasonable that so splendid a work as the “History of Music” should be
+in the library of every house wherein people of taste resided, but that
+was not a book to be galloped through; some people might not be able to
+read it within a month. Besides, it bore the honoured name of Dr. Burney
+on the title page, and the fame of Dr. Burney was great. But as for that
+poor little seven-and-sixpenny sewed “Evelina,” how should anyone take
+an interest in her without reading her story? How would anyone read her
+story without feeling afterwards that seven-and-sixpence (leaving the
+nine shilling expenditure out of the question) was a ridiculous price to
+pay for such an entertainment?
+
+She felt that people would come to look on her as the instigator of a
+fraud if they paid their money and read the book and then found out
+that she had written it. The wisdom of concealing her name even from the
+bookseller was now more apparent to her than it had ever been. She had
+visions of indignant purchasers railing against Mr. Lowndes, and Mr.
+Lowndes searching for her, so that he might rail against her; and so her
+speculations ended in laughter; but even her laughter grated upon her
+sensitive ears: she felt that it was the malicious jeering of a clever
+cheat at the thought of having got the better of a worthy man.
+
+Her precious “Evelina” was leading her a pretty dance. If it had not
+been able to do so it would have been a paltry sort of book and she
+would have been a paltry sort of author.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+|TWO or three weeks passed without her hearing anything of the book, and
+it seemed as if it had fallen, as she had at some moments hoped it would
+fall, like a dull stone into the depths of the sea. She heard nothing of
+it, and soon she perceived that her sisters felt grievously disappointed
+at its failure to produce any impression upon the town. Even a dull
+stone, if dropped into the deep, creates a little fuss on the surface
+before it sinks out of sight; but Fanny's book did not, so far as they
+could see, produce even so superficial an impression. What they expected
+of it they might have had some trouble explaining; but as it was, they
+could not conceal their disappointment from Fanny; and they showed it
+after a short time in a very delicate way: they never alluded to the
+book in her presence. She perceived that what was in their minds was
+that it would show very bad taste on their part to refer to it in any
+way. She was grateful for their consideration; and she resolved to
+accept their decision on this point as final; she would never allude to
+the horrid thing in their hearing.
+
+It so happened, however, that she was left alone with Susy in the house
+one evening. Dr. Burney and his wife had gone to a concert at Esther's,
+and Lottie was staying for a day or two in the country. Susy was
+practising her part of a new duet on the piano, and Fanny was at her
+sewing. So far as conversation between the two sisters was concerned,
+the evening had been a very silent one. Indeed, during the whole week a
+constrained silence had marked the intercourse of the three girls.
+
+Susy hammered away at the music for half an hour; then her playing
+became more fitful, and at last it ceased altogether.
+
+There was a long silence before Fanny heard a little sound that caused
+her to raise her head. It was the sound of a sob, and when she looked up
+she saw that Susy was leaning her forehead upon the bottom of the music
+rest, weeping bitterly.
+
+Fanny was by her side in a moment.
+
+“Dearest Susy, what is the matter?” she said soothingly. “Tell me, dear;
+has anything happened? Has anyone been unkind to you? Have I unwittingly
+done or said anything that seemed to you unkind? Tell me all, Susy.”
+
+But Susy continued crying with her face hidden, though she yielded one
+of her hands to Fanny.
+
+“Come, my dear, I have helped you before now, and I may be able to help
+you now. Prithee, what is your trouble?” said Fanny, putting her arm
+round the girl's shoulders.
+
+Still Susy remained silent, except for her sobs.
+
+“Tell me,” said Fanny, in a whisper. “Is it that you think that I am
+chagrined about--about--the book?”
+
+In an instant Susy had whirled round on her seat and flung her arms
+round her sister's neck, laying her head on her shoulder.
+
+“Oh, Fanny, Fanny, 'tis too cruel!” she sobbed. “We were sure that so
+much would come of it--it seemed so splendid to read, even before it
+was printed--so much better than any other story that ever came into our
+hands--and you worked so hard at it--every spare moment when you might
+have been enjoying yourself--in the cold of last winter up in that
+room--and at Lynn too--and Chessington--and now, when we think that your
+cleverness, your patience, your genius, is to be rewarded, nothing comes
+of it--all your trouble has gone for nothing--all our secrecy! Oh, it is
+too cruel!”
+
+“You dear child,” said Fanny. “It is only cruel if it sets you crying in
+this way. What does it matter to anyone if the book has gone and nothing
+has come of it? I have been thinking that writing a book and publishing
+it is like throwing a stone into the sea. It may fall so that it sinks
+down plumb, or it may fall so that it makes a splash for a while, but
+it sinks to the bottom all the same. Success or failure is only the
+difference between a splash and a ripple. We were fools to fancy that
+our little stone would float.”
+
+“But it was not a stone, it was full of life and it should have--it
+should have--swum! Oh, the people who buy books are so stupid!”
+
+“They are--that was the hope that I builded on. They are stupid, but not
+stupid enough to buy my book.”
+
+“Oh, Fanny!”
+
+“That is really the frame of mind that I find myself in to-day. I tell
+you truly, Susy, that after the first week, I schooled myself to think
+of the business in this way; and I am certain that in another month I
+shall even feel delighted that my little pebble made no splash. Look at
+the matter philosophically, Susy.”
+
+“Oh, philosophically!”
+
+“Well, reasonably. Are we in a different position to-day from that we
+were in before the book was published? We are not. We are just the same
+as we were before. It has not injured us in any way. Nay, if you think
+of it, we are--I, at least, am--all the better for having failed, for I
+have learned my lesson. I was beginning to feel cleverer than I had any
+right to think myself, and this has come as a chastening--to make me
+know my right place. These rebukes do not come by chance, Susy. I know
+now that I was inclined to hold my head too high. I don't think that I
+will do so again.”
+
+“You never held your head too high--just the opposite. And I think it
+very cruel that you should be rebuked for nothing. But I do not blame
+_anyone_ except the wretched people who refused to buy your nice book,
+but spent their seven and sixpence at Vauxhall or Ranelagh--perhaps
+watching Mr. Foote and his puppets at the Haymarket. Oh, I have no
+patience with them! Why, it only needed a thousand people to buy the
+book and it would have been accounted a success!”
+
+“Then we shall put the blame on the shoulders of that thousand,
+wheresoever they may be found, and for my part I shall not hold a second
+thousand altogether blameless--my indignation may even extend to a
+third. Now, that's the last word I mean to speak about the book. It
+has by this time reached the bottom of the sea on which I threw it; and
+there let it lie!”
+
+“You are an angel--I see that plainly now.”
+
+“Ah, there you see, what I said was true: I am much better for the
+rebuke I talked about; you never perceived before that I was an angel.
+Now let that be the last word between us on the subject of my poor
+little 'Evelina.' Her entrance into the world has proved fatal. Oh,
+Susy, she was stillborn, but her parent is making a rapid recovery.”
+
+“That may be; but cannot you join with me in----”
+
+“I will join with you in maintaining silence on the subject of the little
+one. I cannot bear to hear her name mentioned. I refuse to say another
+word about her or her fate. She must have been greatly beloved of
+the gods to die so young. Let that be 'Evelina's' epitaph. I will say
+nothing more about her.”
+
+It so happened, however, that she was compelled to say a good deal more
+on the subject, for within half an hour Cousin Edward had called, and he
+began to talk of “Evelina” at once.
+
+“I went to Hill's library in the Strand yesterday, to get a book for
+mother, and there, sure enough, I saw your 'Evelina,'” said he. “I asked
+the man in charge what it was about, and he replied that he didn't know;
+it was bad enough, he thought, to be compelled to hand out books all day
+to readers without being forced to read them for himself; but he
+supposed that 'Evelina' was a novel of the usual sort.”
+
+“That was not extravagant praise,” remarked Susy.
+
+“He didn't mean to praise it,” said Edward. “But when I asked him if
+anyone who had read it had recommended it, he admitted that every one
+of the five ladies who had read it was ready to speak well of it--one of
+them had taken it away a second time; and--would you believe it?--while
+I was standing at the counter a footman entered the shop with a demand
+for 'Eveliena,' as he called it; and he carried off the copy that was
+already on the desk.”
+
+“For the delectation of the servants' hall?” suggested Fanny.
+
+“Not at all--it had been recommended to her ladyship, he said, and he
+had been commanded on no account to return without it; her ladyship
+was liberal; she would not mind paying sixpence for it, instead of the
+ordinary fourpence.”
+
+“That was more than liberal, it was generous to a degree,” said Fanny.
+
+“Don't interrupt him,” cried Susy. “Continue your narrative, Eddy. I am
+dying to hear the rest.”
+
+“I asked the library man if he knew who wrote the book, and he
+replied that he had heard the name, but had forgotten it; so far as he
+remembered the author was a peer of high rank but eccentric habits,”
+ said Edward.
+
+“The book represented his eccentric habits, I suppose,” remarked Fanny.
+
+“I ran out of the place roaring,” said Edward. “'A peer of high rank but
+eccentric habits'--describes you to a T, doesn't it, Cousin Fanny? Pray
+what is your lordship's next work to be, and when will it be given to an
+eager world?”
+
+“Is that all you have to tell?” asked Susy.
+
+“By no means. When I heard that the book was thought well of in
+the Strand, I thought I would try to get at the opinion of Stanhope
+Street--you know Masterman's circulating library there? Well, I boldly
+entered, and there, sure enough, was a well-thumbed 'Evelina' in front
+of the librarian. I asked for some book that no one had ever heard of,
+and when the librarian had told me that he had never been asked for that
+book before, I pointed to 'Evelina,' inquiring if it was any good. 'I'm
+dead tired on account of its goodness, for I was fool enough to take
+it to bed with me last night, and I never closed my eyes in sleep,'
+he replied. 'I had it praised to me by a lady of quality, and so too
+hastily concluded that it would either send me asleep with its dullness,
+or shock me with its ribaldry; but it did neither, unhappily.' Just then
+a chariot stopped at the door and another footman entered with the name
+'Evelina' written on a sheet of paper, and off he popped with the full
+three volumes under his arm. I waited no longer; but hurried hither
+to give you my news. I did not get so far, however, for I was unlucky
+enough to be overtaken by that vile downpour of rain, and it did not
+blow over until your dinner hour was at hand.”
+
+“You are my good angel,” cried Fanny, her cheeks glowing. “We have heard
+nothing of all this respecting the book, and, hearing nothing, we took
+it for granted that it was dead--dead before it was ever alive. Oh, this
+is good news you have brought us, Eddy!”
+
+“The best news that has come to us for months!” said Susy. She had
+turned her head away and was furtively wiping her eyes. The good news
+affected the sympathetic Susy almost as deeply as her disappointment had
+done.
+
+“But I have only told you of my adventures of yesterday,” said
+Edward. “To-day I tried the booksellers, beginning with Mr. Davies and
+working-round to the Dillys in the Poultry--it cost me three shillings,
+for I had to buy something that I did not particularly want in every
+shop to excuse my inquiries--and I found 'Evelina' on every counter. I
+cannot say that any customer came in to buy it while I was in any shop,
+but you may be sure that the book would not be on the counter unless it
+was highly thought of. Of course I had need to be very discreet among
+the booksellers; I dared not ask who was the author, but I longed to do
+so, if only to hear what new story had been made up about it.”
+
+“You heard quite enough to make us glad,” cried Susy. “Oh, how foolish
+we were to take it for granted that because we had no news of the book,
+it was dead! It is alive--greatly alive, it would appear! How could any
+news of it have come to us here? We should have gone forth in search of
+it.”
+
+“I knew that we could depend on your discretion,” said Fanny, laying a
+hand on each of his shoulders. “I do not think that I ever thanked you
+as I should for the wise way in which you managed the business with Mr.
+Lowndes, and now I must not neglect to do so for having acted the part
+of a benevolent agent in bringing us such good news about the book.”
+
+“Psha! there should be no talk of gratitude and the like between us,”
+ said he. “There are family ties--I think of the honour of our family.
+People already talk of the clever Burneys, but they left you out of the
+question, Cousin Fanny, since they only thought of music. But now
+that you have shown what you can do in another direction, you must be
+reckoned with alongside the others.”
+
+“And what about the other branch of the clever Burneys?” said Fanny.
+“Don't you think that people will some of these days begin to ask if
+Edward Burney, the great painter, is really a brother of the musical
+Burneys? I hope they will, dear Edward; I hope that the fame of Edward
+Burney, the painter, will go far beyond that of the musical Burneys, as
+well as poor Fanny Burney who once wrote a novel.”
+
+The young man blushed as Fanny herself would certainly have done if
+confronted with the least little compliment. But there was no false
+shame about his acceptance of her suggestion.
+
+“I mean to become as good a painter as I can, in order to be worthy of
+the name of Burney,” said he. “I feel proud of being a Burney--more so
+to-day than ever before, and I hope that the rest of the Burney's will
+some day look on me as doing credit to our name.”
+
+“I am sure that they will have every reason to do so,” said Fanny.
+
+When he had gone, Susy gave way to her delight at the news which he had
+brought. She was a good deal taller than Fanny, and catching her round
+the waist after the manner of the Elizabethan dancer with his partner,
+she danced round the table with her, lilting a somewhat breathless pæan.
+Fanny herself needed no coaxing to be her partner in this revel. In
+her jubilant moments she got rid of the primness which most people
+associated with her. She had a wild jig known as “Nancy Dawson,” and
+she had more than once found it necessary to get rid of her superfluous
+spirits through this medium. She joined in her sister's little whoop
+at the completion of the third “lap” of the table, and they both threw
+themselves breathless on the sofa.
+
+“I knew it,” said Susy between her gasps. “I knew that I could not be
+mistaken in believing 'Evelina' to be good--I knew that she would make
+her way in the affections of her readers, and I was right--you see I was
+right.”
+
+“You were right, dear Susy--quite right,” said Fanny. “I do not like
+to be too sanguine, but I do believe, from the reports Eddy brought us,
+that the book will find plenty of readers. Now that we can think over
+the matter in a reasonable way, we must see how foolish we were to
+expect that the very day after the book was published people would crowd
+to buy it; but now, after six weeks, when Eddy goes in search of news
+about it, he brings back a report which is--we had best say for the
+present no more than 'quite satisfactory'--that was the bookseller's
+report about the sales of the first volume of the padre's
+'History'--'quite satisfactory'--that should be quite satisfactory for
+the author of 'Evelina' and her sisters. There is nothing in the book to
+stir people as it would if written by Mr. Wilkes, but in its humble way
+it will, I am now persuaded, be pronounced 'quite satisfactory.' At any
+rate, there goes my sewing for the evening.”
+
+She rolled up the strip of linen into a ball and used her hand, after
+two false starts, as a battledore, to send it flying across the room
+within reach of Susy, who, being more adroit, was able at the first
+attempt to return it with both force and precision. Once more Fanny
+struck it, and her sister sent it back, but by this time the unequal
+ball had opened out, so that it was only by her foot that Fanny could
+deal with it effectively. Then, daintily holding up their petticoats,
+the author of “Evelina” and Susy Burney played with the thing until once
+more they were panting and laughing joyously.
+
+Perhaps Fanny had a faint inkling of the symbolism implied by this
+treatment of the discarded needlework.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+|BUT little Miss Burney had recovered all her primness on the evening
+when, a week later, she accompanied her stepmother to partake of tea at
+the home of the Barlowes in the Poultry.
+
+Young Mr. Barlowe had, for some time after his visit to St. Martin's
+Street, brooded over his indiscretion in allowing his impulse at the
+moment of saying good night to carry him away so that he pressed Miss
+Burney's hand, looking into her eyes with an expression in his own of
+the deepest sympathy--rather more than sympathy. He felt that he had
+been unduly and indiscreetly hasty in his action. It had been purely
+impulsive. He had by no means made up his mind that Miss Burney would
+make him a satisfactory wife. His father and mother had, for a long
+time, thought very highly of Mrs. Burney, looking on her as a most
+thrifty and excellent manager of a household. She had shown herself
+to be all this and more when her first husband was alive and they had
+visited her at Lynn; and she had proved her capabilities in the same
+direction since she had married Dr. Burney. Unfortunately, however,
+the virtues of a stepmother could not be depended on to descend to the
+children of her husband's family, and it was by no means certain that
+Miss Burney had made full use of her opportunities of modelling herself
+upon her father's second wife.
+
+No, he had not quite made up his mind on this subject--the gravest that
+had ever occupied his attention, and he remained sleepless for hours,
+fearful that he had gone too far in that look and that squeeze. He had
+heard of fathers and even brothers waiting upon young men who had acted
+toward a daughter or a sister pretty much as he had in regard to Miss
+Burney. He had rather a dread of being visited by Miss Burney's brother,
+that young naval officer who had boasted of having been educated by a
+murderer. Mr. Barlowe thought that a visit from such a young man would
+be most undesirable, and for several days he went about his business
+with great uneasiness.
+
+But when a week had gone by and neither father nor brother had waited
+upon him, he began to review his position more indulgently than when he
+had previously given it his consideration. He thought more hopefully of
+Miss Burney as a wife. Perhaps she might have profited more largely than
+he had thought by her daily intercourse with so capable a woman as Mrs.
+Burney. At any rate, she was not musical, and that was something in her
+favour. Then her stepmother had praised her needlework, and everyone
+knows that to be a good sempstress is next to being a good housekeeper.
+
+He thought that on the whole she would do. Her brother, Lieutenant
+Burney, would naturally spend most of his time at sea. That was a good
+thing. Thomas felt that he should hesitate to make any change in his
+life that involved a liability of frequent visits from a young man who
+had been taught by a murderer. Who could tell what might happen in the
+case of such a young man? As for Miss Burney herself, she was,
+quite apart from her housewifely qualities, a most estimable young
+lady--modest and retiring, as a young woman should be, and very
+beautiful. To be sure, he had often heard that beauty was only skin
+deep, but even assuming that it did not go any deeper, it had always
+been highly esteemed by men--none of them seemed to wish it to be of any
+greater depth; and it was certain that a man with a handsome wife was
+greatly envied--more so even than a man who was married to a plain woman
+but a good housewife. Oh, undoubtedly her beauty commended her to his
+most indulgent consideration. He had no objection in the world to be
+widely envied, if only on account of his wife's good looks. It never
+occurred to him that it might be that some people would think very
+ordinary a face that seemed to one who was in love with it extremely
+lovely. He preserved the precious privilege of a man to raise up his own
+standard of beauty and expect all the rest of the world to acknowledge
+its supremacy.
+
+Yes, he thought that Miss Burney, beauty and all, would suit him, but
+still he hesitated in making another call.
+
+This was when Mr. Kendal had the honour of waiting upon Mrs. Burney, and
+his visit only preceded by a day or two Mrs. Burney's call upon her old
+friend, Mrs. Barlowe, in the Poultry; this interchange of courtesies
+being speedily followed by an invitation for Mrs. Burney and a
+stepdaughter to drink tea with the Barlowe family.
+
+“I am taking you with me, Fanny, because you are the eldest and, as
+should be, the most sensible of the household,” said Mrs. Burney,
+explaining--so far as she thought wise--the invitation on the morning it
+was received. “There will be no music at Mrs. Barlowe's, I think, and
+so you will have no distracting influence to prevent your forming a just
+opinion of my old friends.”
+
+“I do not mind in the least the absence of music for one night,” said
+Fanny.
+
+“I am sure of that,” said Mrs. Burney. “Goodness knows we have music
+enough here during any day to last us over a whole week. The
+others could not live without it, even if it were not your father's
+profession.”
+
+“Without which none of us could live,” remarked Fanny, who had no
+wish to be forced into the position of the opponent of music in the
+household.
+
+“Quite right, my dear,” acquiesced the elder lady. “It is a precarious
+way of making a living. To my mind there is nothing so satisfactory as a
+good commercial business--a merchant with a shop at his back can afford
+to laugh at all the world.”
+
+“But he usually refrains,” said Fanny.
+
+“True; he looks at life with proper seriousness, and without levity.
+Great fortunes are the result of serious attention to business. Levity
+leads to poverty.”
+
+“Except in the case of Mr. Garrick and a few others.”
+
+“Mr. Garrick is certainly an exception. But, then, you must remember
+that he was a merchant before he became an actor, and his business
+habits never left him. I have heard it said that he got more out of his
+company for the salaries he paid than any theatre manager in Europe.
+But I did not come to you to talk about Mr. Garrick. I only meant to say
+that I know you are an observant girl. You do not merely glance at the
+surface of things, so I am sure that you will perceive much to respect
+in all the members of Mrs. Barlowe's family.”
+
+“I am sure they are eminently--respectable, mamma; and I am glad that
+you have chosen me to be your companion this evening. I like going among
+such people--it is useful.”
+
+She stopped short in a way that should have aroused the suspicions of
+Mrs. Burney, but that lady was unsuspecting, she was only puzzled.
+
+“Useful?” she said interrogatively.
+
+Fanny had no mind to explain that she thought herself rather good at
+describing people of the Barlowe type, and was ready to submit herself
+to more experience of them in case she might be encouraged to write
+another novel. But she knew that she would have some difficulty in
+explaining this to her stepmother, who herself was an excellent type.
+
+“Useful--perhaps I should rather have said 'instructive,'” she replied,
+after a little pause.
+
+“Instructive, yes; I am glad that you look at our visit so sensibly--I
+knew you would do so. Yes, you should learn much of the excellence of
+these people even in the short time that we shall be with them. And it
+is well that you should remember, my dear Fanny, that you are now quite
+old enough to have a house of your own to look after.”
+
+It was now Fanny's turn to seem puzzled.
+
+“I do not quite see how--I mean why--why--that is, the connection--is
+there any connection between----?”
+
+“What I mean to say is that if at some time a suitor for your hand
+should appear, belonging to a respectable mercantile family, you will
+know, without the need of any telling, that your chances of happiness
+with such a man are far greater than they would be were you to wed
+someone whose means of getting a living were solely the practice of some
+of the arts, as they are called--music or painting or the rest.”
+
+“I do not doubt that, mamma,” said Fanny demurely. She was beginning to
+think that her stepmother was a far better type than she had fancied.
+
+And her stepmother was beginning to think that she had never given Fanny
+credit for all the good sense she possessed.
+
+The six o'clock tea-party in the Poultry was a function that Fanny
+Burney's quick pen only could describe as it deserved to be described.
+All the time that it was proceeding her fingers were itching to start
+on it. She could see Mr. Crisp smiling in that appreciative way that he
+had, as he read her smart sentences, every one of them with its little
+acid flavour, that remained on the palate of his memory. She was an
+artist in character drawing, and she was one of the first to perceive
+how excellent was the material for artistic treatment that might be
+found in the house of the English tradesman--the superior tradesman
+who aspired to be called a merchant. She neglected no opportunity of
+observing such houses; it was only when she was daily consorting with
+people of the highest rank that she became alarmed lest her descriptions
+should be accepted as proof that she was in the habit of meeting on
+terms of intimacy the types of English bourgeois which she had drawn.
+
+The ground-floor of Mr. Barlowe's house in the Poultry was given over to
+his business, which, as has already been mentioned, was that of a
+vendor of gold and silver lace. The walls carried shelves from floor to
+ceiling, and every shelf had its line of boxes enclosing samples of an
+abundant and valuable stock. The large room at the back was a sort of
+counting-house parlour, where Mr. Barlowe sat during the day with his
+son and an elderly clerk, ready for the customers, whose arrival was
+announced by the ringing of a spring.-bell. The scales for the weighing
+of the bullion and the worked gold and silver wire were suspended above,
+the broad counter in the shop, and from a hook between the shelves there
+hung a number of ruled forms with spaces for oz., dwt. and grs. On these
+were entered the particulars of the material supplied to the workmen who
+made up the lace as required. The upper part of the house was the home
+of the family, the spacious dining-room being in the front, its convex
+windows overhanging the busy thoroughfare. Opening off this apartment
+was an equally large drawingroom, and the furniture of both was of
+walnut made in the reign of Queen Anne, with an occasional piece of
+Dutch marqueterie of the heavier character favoured by the craftsmen of
+the previous sovereigns. The rooms themselves were panelled with oak and
+lighted by candles in brass sconces.
+
+It seemed to Fanny, on entering the diningroom, that every seat was
+occupied. But she soon saw that there were several vacant chairs. It
+was the imposing row of figures confronting her that made the room seem
+full, although only six persons were present besides young Mr. Barlowe
+and his parents, who met Mrs. Burney and her stepdaughter at the door.
+Fanny greeted Thomas at once, and she could see that his eyes were
+beaming, but with a rather more subdued light than shone in them on that
+night when he had pressed her hand.
+
+She was conscious, at the same time, of the approach of a big elderly
+gentleman, wearing a well-ordered wig, evidently newly curled, with a
+small lady clad in expensive and expansive black silk by his side. He
+was holding the tips of her fingers and they advanced in step as though
+they were starting to dance a minuet.
+
+They stood in front of her and her mother, while Thomas, moving to one
+side, said, making a low bow:
+
+“Miss Burney, I have the honour to present to you my father, Mr.
+Barlowe, and my mother, Mrs. Barlowe. Mrs. Burney, madam, you are, I
+know, already acquainted with my parents.”
+
+The little lady curtsied and her husband made a fine shopkeeper's bow,
+first to Fanny, then to Mrs. Burney.
+
+The formality of the presentation was overwhelming to poor Fanny. She
+could feel herself blushing, and she certainly was more overcome than
+she had been when Count Orloff, the Russian, visited the house in St.
+Martin's Street and she gazed with awe upon the thumb that had, it was
+rumoured, pressed too rigidly the wind-pipe of the unfortunate Peter.
+All that she could do was to try to hide her confusion by the deepest of
+curtsies.
+
+“We are sensible of the honour you have done us, madam,” said Mr.
+Barlowe when he had recovered himself--he was addressing Fanny, ignoring
+for the moment the presence of Mrs. Burney.
+
+“Our son has spoken to us of you with great admiration, Miss Burney,”
+ said the little lady. “But I protest that when I look at you I feel as
+King Solomon did when he saw the Queen of Sheba, the half has not been
+told.”
+
+“Oh, madam, you flatter me,” said Fanny, trying to put some force into a
+voice that her shyness had rendered scarcely audible.
+
+Her stepmother, perceiving how she was suffering, hastened to greet in
+a much less formal way their host and hostess; but she had considerable
+difficulty in bringing them down to her level. It seemed that they had
+prepared some high phrases of welcome for their younger visitor only,
+and they had no mind that they should be wasted.
+
+“My stepdaughter is of a retiring nature,” said Mrs. Burney. “She is
+quite unused to such ceremony as you honour her with. Well, Martha, how
+is the rheumatism?”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+|MRS. BARLOWE did not seem half pleased to be brought down so from the
+high parallels of etiquette among which she had been soaring. But she
+had lost her place, and before she could recover herself, Fanny had
+slipped behind her stepmother.
+
+“Ask me all about her rheumatism, madam, for 'tis me that knows more
+about it than her,” said Mr. Barlowe, with a jerk of his thumb and a
+wink in the direction of his wife. The homely enquiry of Mrs. Burney had
+clearly forced him to throw off all ceremony and treat the visit of Miss
+Burney as an ordinary domestic incident.
+
+His wife would have none of this, however; she said in tones of stiff
+reproof:
+
+“Mr. Barlowe, you forget that the young lady has not been presented to
+Brother Jonathan or the Alderman. Thomas, it is for you to usher the
+lady into the presence of your uncles and aunts. Pray be not remiss,
+Thomas. There is no excuse for such an omission.”
+
+“I was only waiting until you had finished, ma'am,” said Thomas.
+
+“I have finished,” she replied, with a stiff nod. “To be sure, 'twas my
+intention to express, in what I trust would be appropriate terms, our
+happiness in welcoming Miss Burney to our humble home; a few phrases of
+this sort were not thought out of place when I was young; but it appears
+that your father knows better what is _comme il faut_ and _haut ton_
+than me. Bring the young lady forward, Thomas.”
+
+The younger Thomas looked dubiously from his mother to his father.
+He was uncommonly like an actor who had forgotten his part, Fanny
+thought--he had no initiative. Fanny herself was more at home than any
+of the household. While the young man hesitated, she walked up the room
+as if she meant to present herself to the six figures that sat in a row
+at the farther end.
+
+Thomas was beside her in a moment.
+
+“I ask your pardon, Miss Burney,” he said. “But I knew that mamma had at
+least two more welcomes for your ear, and I feared that she had forgot
+them. Do not you think that mamma speaks well? Perhaps it would be
+unjust to judge her by what she said--she only made a beginning. You
+will be delighted when you are going away.”
+
+Fanny felt that this prediction was certain to be realized.
+
+“Yes, mamma's good-byes are as well worded as her greetings,” he
+continued; “a clergyman could scarcely better them; and I hope----”
+
+But now they were face to face with the six figures sitting in a row,
+and as his conversation was only designed as an accompaniment to the
+march of Fanny to this position, there was no reason to continue it.
+
+The figures were of two men and four ladies. The former were middle-aged
+and bore an expression of gravity that a judge might have envied. Their
+dress was sombre, but of the finest material possible to buy, and each
+of them was painfully conscious of being in unusual garments. Of course,
+Fanny saw in a moment that they were merchants wearing the garments in
+which they attended church.
+
+Of the four ladies, three were elderly and the fourth much younger. They
+wore their hair built up in a way that suggested that they desired to
+follow the fashion but had not the courage to complete the scheme with
+which they had started. The long and thin and highly-coloured feathers
+which crowned the stunted structures on their heads gave them the
+appearance of a picture of unfamiliar birds. Their dresses were
+extremely glossy and of an expensive material, but there was an
+eccentric note about all that made them seem not impressive as they
+should have been, but almost ludicrous. The youngest lady in the row
+showed unmistakable signs of being given to simpering. She had gone much
+further than the others of the party in the architecture of her hair,
+but that was possibly because the material at her command was more
+abundant. The dressing of her hair, however, was by no means in sympathy
+with the style of her garments, the latter being simple and indeed
+rather too girlish for the wearer, who looked between twenty-five and
+thirty.
+
+It was an extraordinary ordeal that confronted Miss Burney, for young
+Mr. Barlowe began presenting her to the group, starting from his left
+and working slowly to the last of the row on the right. There was
+she with the young man standing close to her, but sideways, doing the
+formalities of presenting her, while his father and mother stood behind
+to see that he omitted nothing. Mrs. Burney, a little way apart, was
+alternately smiling and frowning at the ceremonial. She could see, from
+observing the effect that the whole business was producing upon Fanny,
+that the Barlowes were defeating their own ends, assuming that
+they desired Fanny to become a member of their family. These absurd
+formalities were, Mrs. Burney knew, quite out of place in a private
+house. But what could she do to cut them short? She had made an attempt
+before, and it was received in anything but a friendly spirit by their
+hostess, so that she did not feel inclined to interfere again: the thing
+must run its course, she felt, reflecting upon it as though it were a
+malady. There was no means of curtailing it.
+
+And its course was a slow one for the unhappy victim.
+
+“Miss Burney, I have the honour to present my aunt on my mother's
+side--Mrs. Alderman Kensit,” droned Thomas, and the lady on the extreme
+left rose at the mention of her name and made a carefully prepared
+curtsey, while the sky-blue feather in her hair jerked awkwardly forward
+until the end almost touched her nose.
+
+“Proud to meet Miss Burney, I vow,” said she as she rose; and anyone
+could see from the expression on her face that she was satisfied that
+she had gone far in proving her claim to be looked on as a lady of
+fashion. She had never said “I vow” before, and she knew that it had
+startled her relations. She felt that she could not help that. Miss
+Burney would understand that she was face to face with someone who had
+mingled with the best.
+
+“And this is Aunt Maria, father's sister, Mrs. Hutchings,” came the
+voice of Thomas, and the second lady bobbed up with quivering feathers
+and made a well-practised curtsey. She did not trust herself to speak.
+Having heard her neighbour's “I vow,” she knew that she could not go
+farther. She would not compete with such an exponent of the mysteries of
+_haut ton_.
+
+“And this is Alderman Kensit of the Common Council; he is my uncle on my
+mother's side--mother is a Kensit, you know,” resumed Thomas. “And
+this is Aunt Jelicoe. My mother's sister married Mr. Jelicoe, of Tooley
+Street. And this is my cousin, Miss Jelicoe. I am sure that you will
+like Miss Jelicoe, Miss Burney, she is so young.”
+
+The youngest lady of the group simpered with great shyness, concealing
+half her face with her fan and holding her head to one side, and then
+pretending to be terribly fluttered. Her curtsey was made in a flurry,
+and with a little exclamation of “Oh, la!”
+
+Another uncle only remained to be presented; he turned out to be Mr.
+Jonathan Barlowe, and he was, Thomas whispered half audibly to Fanny, in
+trade in the Indies.
+
+It was all over, curtsies and bows and exclamations--echoes of the world
+of fashion and elsewhere--she had been presented to every member of the
+row and they had resumed their seats, while she hastened to the side of
+her stepmother, hot and breathless. She had never before been subjected
+to such an ordeal. She had gladly agreed to accompany her stepmother to
+this house, for she hoped thereby to increase her observation of a class
+of people who repaid her study of them; but she had no notion that she
+should have to vacate her place as an Observer and take up that of a
+Participator. She was to pay dearly for her experience.
+
+She was burning, her stepmother could see; and she believed that this
+was due to her mortification on noticing that the dress of the ladies
+was infinitely more expensive than hers. That would be enough to make
+any young woman with ordinary susceptibilities indignant, she felt; and
+she herself, having had an opportunity of giving some attention to
+the expensive silks--she could appraise their value to a penny--was
+conscious of some chagrin on this account. She was almost out of
+patience with her old friend, Martha Barlowe, for making all this
+parade. The foolish woman had done so, she knew, in order to impress
+Miss Burney and to give her to understand that she was becoming
+associated with no ordinary family. But Mrs. Burney had seen enough
+since she had left Lynn for London to know that Fanny would not be the
+least impressed except in the direction of boredom by such an excess of
+ceremony in the house of a tradesman. She had heard Fanny's comment upon
+the gorgeous chariot which Sir Joshua Reynolds had set up, and she could
+not doubt what Fanny's opinion would be regarding this simple tea to
+which she had consented to go at the Barlowes' house.
+
+Fanny had hurried to her side as soon as she had passed the row of
+uncles and aunts. She thought that the girl seemed overcome by the
+tedium of the formalities; but in a few minutes she saw that Fanny was
+on the verge of laughter.
+
+Mrs. Burney could not say whether she would rather that her charge
+became moody or hilarious.
+
+“Eight separate curtsies,” murmured Fanny. “If there are to be the same
+number going away we should begin at once.”
+
+Mrs. Burney thought it better not to reprove her for her flippancy just
+at that moment. She condoned it with a smile.
+
+Only a minute were the Burneys left to themselves. Mr. Barlowe, the
+elder, walked solemnly up to them.
+
+“Going on nicely, eh?” he said in a confidential way to Mrs. Burney.
+“Everything being done decently and in order, madam. There has been no
+cause of offence up to the present, though there are three persons in
+that row who are as ready to see an offence where none is meant as a
+bunch of flax to break into flame when a spark falls on it. The young
+lady is discreet; if she had spoken to any one of them and not to the
+others, there would have been a flare-up. The touchy ones belong to my
+wife's family. She was a Kensit, you know.”
+
+He made this explanation behind his hand and in a whisper; he saw that
+his wife and son had been in earnest consultation together over some
+vexed question, and now they were hovering about, waiting to catch his
+eye.
+
+“I spoke too soon,” he said. “Something has gone astray, and the blame
+will fall on me.”
+
+They hovered still nearer, and when he caught his eye, Thomas, the
+younger, stepped up to his father, saying something in his ear. Mrs.
+Barlowe went on hovering a yard or two away.
+
+“That would never do,” said her husband, evidently in reply to some
+remonstrance offered by young Thomas. “Never. The whole of the Kensits
+would take offence.” Then he turned again to Mrs. Burney, saying:
+
+“Mrs. Burney, madam, my son has just reminded me that I have been remiss
+in doing my duty. It was left to me to present you to our relations at
+the head of the room, but I failed to do so, my mind being too full of
+the pretty curtsies of Miss. But I am ready to make amends now.”
+
+But Mrs. Burney had observed a little twinkle in Fanny's eye; she had
+no notion of going through the ordeal to which Fanny had been subjected,
+though the spectacle would doubtless have diverted Fanny hugely.
+
+“Nay, sir,” she said quickly to the waiting gentleman, “Nay, sir; you
+have forgotten that the presentation of a lady's daughter is equivalent
+to the presentation of the lady herself.”
+
+“What, is that so?” said he.
+
+“Rest assured that it is,” said she, “and an excellent rule it is. It
+saves a repetition of a formality that is now frequently omitted in the
+private houses of simple folk like ourselves. Lend me your arm, sir. I
+shall soon make myself at home with Martha's relations.”
+
+She did not give him a chance of discussing the point with her; she saw
+that he was about to state his objections to the rule she had invented
+for her own saving, and she was already in advance of him in approaching
+the row of figures on the chairs against the wall. Fanny heard her
+greeting them in turn without any formality, and once again Thomas, the
+younger, was by her side.
+
+His mother was still hovering, glancing suspiciously, first at the young
+couple, and then at the hasty proceedings of her friend, Mrs. Burney.
+
+“It was unlike father to make so grave an omission, Miss Burney,” he
+said, apologetically.
+
+“I hope that no harm will come of it,” said Fanny. “I am afraid that you
+found us very homely folk at our little house when you did us the honour
+of visiting us,” she added.
+
+He waved his hand indulgently, smiling over her head.
+
+“I am always ready to take my place in such a circle,” said he,
+“though all the time I have a pretty full knowledge of the exchange of
+courtesies which should mark the introduction of a stranger. Oh, yes, I
+do not mind meeting some people as an equal, if they do not presume upon
+me afterwards. Your brother has gone back to sea, I hear?” he added.
+
+“Yes, we shall not see him again for two years,” she replied. “Did he
+presume upon you, sir? If so, I will take it upon me to offer you a
+humble apology.”
+
+“I was considering if it might be possible that he was himself mistaken
+in regard to the ear-trumpet,” said Thomas.
+
+“Sir Joshua's ear-trumpet? What of that?”
+
+“Lieutenant Burney told me that it was a newly invented musical
+instrument, blown by the ear instead of the mouth. It was not until I
+had spoken of it to my father that I learned that the instrument was an
+ear-trumpet used by the deaf. I had never seen one before. I wonder if
+your brother intentionally deceived me.”
+
+“My brother is an officer in His Majesty's Fleet, sir.”
+
+“What does that mean, miss?”
+
+“It means that he would resent an accusation of falsehood, sir.”
+
+“Pray do not misunderstand me; I would shrink from accusing him of any
+conduct unworthy of an officer and a gentleman. But I was certainly
+deceived in fancying that the ear-trumpet was a musical instrument.”
+
+Fanny made no reply. Her attention was directed to the entrance of two
+servants, one bearing a large urn, the other a dish on which lay an
+immense ham.
+
+“I hope you have an appetite, Miss Burney,” said young Thomas. “If so,
+you will be able to stay it at that table, I'll warrant. Tea and cake
+may be well enough for such as dine at four, but for us, who are three
+hours earlier, something more substantial is needed. You will find that
+there is no stint in this house.”
+
+Fanny had an idea that the young man meant to suggest that she would
+find the tea-table at the Poultry to make a striking contrast to that of
+St. Martin's Street; and she was not mistaken.
+
+Neither was he. A greater contrast could scarcely be imagined. When
+Fanny was formally conducted to a seat at the table by the side of young
+Mr. Barlowe, she found herself confronting such a variety of eatables as
+was absolutely bewildering. The first glance that she had at the dishes
+had a stunning effect upon her. Her impression was one of repletion; she
+felt that that glance was by itself equivalent to a hearty meal--a heavy
+meal. She felt inclined to turn her head away.
+
+But a moment afterwards she became alert. Here was food--ample food for
+an amusing letter to Mr. Crisp, and, later, for a chapter in a possible
+novel. She would let nothing escape her notice.
+
+She settled down to observe everything; and her stepmother, sitting
+opposite to her, knew from the twinkle in her eyes, that Thomas's suit
+was hopeless. She had heard that music is the food of love. She was not
+sure of this; but she was convinced that butcher's meat was not. That
+was where she saw that Thomas had made his mistake. He had placed too
+much dependence upon that great ham. He carved that ham with all the
+solemnity that should accompany such a rite, not knowing that he was
+slicing away all his chances of commending himself to Fanny.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+|IT was an interesting experience for Miss Burney, the writer of novels
+and the writer of letters. She had never sat down with such a company.
+They all had their table peculiarities. One uncle took ale for his
+tea, and drained a tankard before eating anything. The other claimed a
+particular cup on account of its capacity, and he held it to his mouth
+with one hand, while he passed a second down the table to Miss Burney,
+only spilling a spoonful or two in effecting the transit. One of the
+aunts refused to eat anything except cake, explaining, in order to
+relieve the anxiety of the company, the details of an acute attack of
+spleen from which she had recently suffered. The spleen and its humours
+formed the subject of a fitful conversation at her end of the table.
+
+But it was plain that everyone understood that the company had not come
+to the table for conversation, but for food. They did not converse,
+but that was not the same as saying the room was silent. There was a
+constant clanging of cups, a constant clatter of platters, a loud and
+insistent demand on the part of Thomas, the elder, and Thomas, the
+younger, for their guests to say what they would like to eat. This was
+followed by the handing of plates up and down the table, the sound of
+steel knives being sharpened, and the jingle of spoons in saucers. The
+Alderman, who was, of course, an authority on the etiquette of banquets,
+was formulating an elaborate explanation of the mistake that had been
+made in the service of the cold sirloin in advance of the venison pasty;
+and all the time his neighbour was striking the haft of his knife upon
+the table with a request for someone to pass him the pickles.
+
+All the ceremonial veneer had plainly left the company the moment they
+seated themselves, and they addressed themselves to the business of
+feeding. They had healthy appetites--even the lady who had had a recent
+attack of the spleen. She would eat nothing but cake, but she did eat
+cake with confidence. There was no sort of cake that she did not try,
+and her cup was kept in constant circulation from the tea-maker to
+herself--four times she had it refilled, Fanny could not help noticing,
+and she wondered what effect such a diet would have upon her capricious
+spleen. Fanny had an inward hint or two that she had observed quite
+enough of the party to serve her purpose, and she began to count the
+moments until she might be able to steal away without offending the
+susceptibilities of her over-hospitable host and hostess. She hoped that
+her stepmother would listen to her plea of weariness and take her back
+to St. Martin's Street--to the music of St. Martin's Street--to the
+quiet of St. Martin's Street.
+
+The most solid hour of her life had, however, to elapse before her
+fellow-guests pushed their plates (empty) away from them, and Mrs.
+Barlowe said:
+
+“I am afraid you have made a poor tea, Miss Burney; but if you cannot be
+persuaded to have a slice of ham--my son's ham, I call it, for 'tis he
+who picks it out of the curer's stock whenever we have a party--if you
+still refuse it, we might go to the drawing-room.”
+
+Fanny was on her feet in an instant. But not sooner than Alderman
+Kensit. That gentleman, rapping with the haft of his knife on the table,
+stood with a sheaf of notes in his hand and clearing his throat with
+great deliberation, started upon a speech in eulogy of Mr. Barlowe's
+merits as a host and as a merchant, and droned away for a good
+half-hour in praise of the virtue of hospitality, his text being on
+the possibility of entertaining angels unawares. Of course, it was only
+natural that, having got upon this track and with the word “angels”
+ in his mind, he should go on to say that it was quite possible for a
+hospitably-inclined person to entertain an angel and be fully cognizant
+of the fact, and so forth: in a speech of well-worn platitudes such a
+suggestion seemed inevitable; and all eyes were directed to poor
+Fanny when it seemed impending. It was a great disappointment to
+everybody--except Fanny and her stepmother--when the orator skipped the
+expected phrases, and went on to describe a business visit which he had
+once made to Spain, apropos of nothing in particular. His account of
+this feat was familiar to all his relations, but they listened to him
+without a murmur, only wondering when he would come to the angel and
+Miss Burney.
+
+He never came to the angel and Miss Burney, for it so happened that he
+had turned over two pages of his notes when he should have only turned
+over one. The omitted platitude was on the first, and he failed to
+notice the absence of a platitudinal sequence in the heads of his
+discourse which he had jotted down during the day.
+
+When he had seated himself, Mr. Barlowe, the elder, got upon his feet,
+but he had no notes, and not being a member of the Common Council, he
+was not a past-master of commonplaces. He was only dull for about five
+minutes instead of half an hour. He had risen with a view to repair his
+relative's omission of that obvious point about entertaining an angel by
+appointment in the shape of Miss Burney, but he lost himself before he
+managed to deliver it; it swam out of his ken with several other points
+the moment he got upon his legs.
+
+Fully recognizing how narrow was the escape she had had, Fanny was
+resolved not to run any further chances. She was looking imploringly
+toward Mrs. Burney, trying to catch that lady's eye, but without
+success, and she was about to walk round the table to her side and to
+beg her to come away, when Mrs. Barlowe moved up to her.
+
+“Miss Burney,” she said, “I am afraid you did not get anything you liked
+at the table: I saw that you scarce ate more than a morsel of cake.”
+
+“I assure you, madam, I had enough,” said Fanny. “Your cake was so tasty
+I had no mind to go away from it in search of other delicacies.”
+
+“I am glad you liked it. I made it with my own hands,” said the hostess.
+“That cake was ever a favourite with Mr. Barlowe and my son. It pleases
+me to know that you and my son have tastes in common. He is a good son,
+is Thomas, though I say it that shouldn't; and he is making his way to
+the front by treading in his father's footsteps. Mr. Barlowe is not a
+Common Councilman, but his father, Thomas's grandfather, was for a year
+Deputy-Master of the Wyre Drawers' Company--his certificate still hangs
+on the wall of the drawing-room. You must see it. Thomas, you will show
+Miss Burney your grandfather's certificate as Deputy-Master.”
+
+“I should like very much to see it,” said Fanny quickly, “but I fear
+that mamma will wish me to accompany her home at once. My sisters are
+alone to-night and they will feel lonely: we promised to return early.”
+
+“I will get Mrs. Burney's permission for you--so good an opportunity
+should not be thrown away,” said Mrs. Barlowe, giving the latter part of
+her sentence an unmistakable inflection as she looked toward her son and
+smiled.
+
+She had gone round the table before Fanny could think of another excuse
+for evading the visit to the drawing-room in the company of Mr. Barlowe,
+the younger.
+
+And Mr. Barlowe, the younger, was still by her side.
+
+“Doesn't Uncle Kensit make a fine speech?” he inquired. “He is always
+ready. I have heard it said that he speaks longer than any Alderman in
+the Council.”
+
+“I can quite believe it,” replied Fanny.
+
+“Tis a wonderful gift,” said he--“to be always ready to say what one is
+expected to say. Though I did think that when he referred to the angels
+he meant to--to--go farther--I mean nearer-nearer home.”
+
+Thomas might himself have gone farther had his mother not returned at
+that moment from her diplomatic errand.
+
+“I have prevailed upon Mrs. Burney to let you stay to see the
+certificate,” said she. “Thomas, you will conduct Miss Burney to the
+drawing-room.”
+
+“I am sure that mamma would wish to see the certificate also,” said
+Fanny. “I will ask her.”
+
+“There is no need, Miss Burney: we shall all join you later,” said Mrs.
+Barlowe.
+
+Poor Fanny saw that there was no use trying to evade the attentions of
+Thomas, and as she walked toward the folding doors by his side she was
+conscious of a silence in the room and of all eyes being turned upon
+her--smiles--such knowing smiles--and a smirk from the young lady. Fanny
+was aware of all, and what she was too short-sighted to see she was able
+to imagine. She was burning at the thought of all those people gazing at
+her in silence. It was the most trying moment of her life.
+
+She passed through the door which Thomas opened for her and closed
+behind her.
+
+“I am glad to have this opportunity, Miss Burney,” said he, when they
+were alone in the big half-lighted room.
+
+“You must hold your grandfather's certificate in high esteem, sir,” said
+she. “I suppose so high a place as he reached is but rarely attained
+by mortals. You will have to guide me to the document: I have very poor
+eyesight, as you must have noticed.”
+
+“It is a great drawback,” said he. “But we will not talk about
+grandfather's certificate just yet, if you please: I have something to
+say to you that will, I hope, interest you even more than that.”
+
+“You surprise me, sir,” said Fanny icily.
+
+“Nay, I hope that you know me well enough not to be surprised by all
+that I have to reveal to you now that the opportunity has been given to
+me. Have you no inkling of what I am about to say, Miss Burney?”
+
+“Not the least, sir. I expected only to see that relic of your
+grandfather's honourable career.”
+
+“What, after meeting Uncle Kensit and Aunt Jelicoe, you do not feel
+interested in their families?” said he, in a tone of genuine surprise.
+
+Fanny looked at him before she spoke, and there certainly was more than
+a note of casual interest in her voice as she said:
+
+“Their families? Oh, I should like above all things to hear about their
+families.”
+
+“I knew that you would,” said he, apparently much relieved. (She
+wondered if the relief that she felt was as apparent as his.) “Yes,
+I felt certain that you would welcome this opportunity of learning
+something about the Kensits and the Jelicoes. They are remarkable
+people, as you cannot have failed to perceive.”
+
+He made a pause---a pause that somehow had an interrogative tendency.
+She felt that he meant it to be filled up by her.
+
+“They are remarkable people--very remarkable,” said she.
+
+“We are very fortunate in all our relations, Miss Burney,” said he with
+great solemnity. “But, of course, Uncle Kensit stands high above them
+all in force of character. A great man indeed is Alderman Kensit--a
+member of the Haberdashers' and Grocers' Companies as well as the City
+Council, and yet quite ready to meet ordinary persons as fellow-men. He
+had heard the name of your friend, Sir Joshua Reynolds, though not the
+name of Dr. Burney, and he was kind enough to say that he would have no
+objection in the world to meet either of these gentlemen. That shows you
+what sort of man he is--his fine, simple nature. 'If Dr. Burney or Sir
+Joshua Reynolds were duly presented to me, I should feel it my duty to
+be civil to him '--those were his exact words.”
+
+Once more there was an interrogative pause.
+
+“Perhaps they may be fortunate enough to meet him some day,” was all
+Fanny could trust herself to say.
+
+“I would not say so much to them--he is very busy just now,” said Thomas
+hastily. “It would have to be arranged with care and thought--I would
+not like them to be disappointed. But if it would please you, I daresay
+a meeting could be brought about; meantime, I would not raise up any
+false hopes on the matter, if I were you.”
+
+“You may depend on my preserving the strictest secrecy, Mr. Barlowe,”
+ said Fanny. “I should think that I might even discipline myself to
+forget that such a person as Alderman Kensit existed.”
+
+“That would perhaps be the safest course to pursue,” said he
+thoughtfully, and with an air of prudence that made him for the moment
+the subject of a description after Fanny's own heart. She felt that
+she could fool this young man as easily as her brother had fooled him.
+Surely he was made to be fooled, with his solemn airs and his incapacity
+to distinguish what is worthy from what is pompous.
+
+“Yes,” she continued, “Dr. Burney has had it intimated to him since the
+publication of his 'History' that the King was desirous of talking to
+him at Windsor, and I know that Sir Joshua is being visited daily by
+the Duchess of Devonshire and the Duchess of Ancaster, and it would be
+a great pity if my father were forced to write excusing himself to His
+Majesty on account of having to meet Alderman--Alderman--I protest that
+I have already forgotten the gentleman's name--nay, do not tell it to
+me; I might be tempted to boast of having met him, and if I did so in
+Sir Joshua's presence, his beautiful Duchesses would be forlorn when
+they found that he had hurried away on the chance of meeting the
+Alderman. And now, sir, I think that I shall return to Mrs. Burney.”
+
+“But I have not told you half of what I can tell about our family,” he
+cried. “I have said nothing about my aunts--I have four aunts and eleven
+cousins. You would surely like to hear of my cousins. They do not
+all live in London. I have three as far away as Lewes; their name is
+Johnson. My mother's youngest sister married a Johnson, as you may have
+heard. I believe that some objection was raised to the match at first,
+but it turned out quite satisfactory.”
+
+“It is pleasant to know that; and so, sir, as we have come to this
+point, don't you think that we had better adjourn our conference?” said
+Fanny. “It would be doing the Johnson family a grave injustice were you
+to attempt to describe their virtues within the time that is left to
+us, and that would be the greatest catastrophe of all. Besides, I came
+hither all unprepared for these revelations. If you had hinted at
+what was in store for me I would, of course, have disciplined
+myself--forewarned is forearmed, you know.”
+
+Miss Burney had received many a lesson from Mr. Garrick, from the days
+when he had come to entertain her in the nursery, in the art of fooling,
+and she was now quite capable of holding her own when she found herself
+in the presence of so foolable a person as this egregious young man. But
+the game was apt to become wearisome at the close of an evening when
+she had suffered much, and when the subject of her raillery had shown
+himself to be incapable even of suspecting her of practising on him.
+
+“But there is Aunt Jelicoe; I should like to tell you something of Aunt
+Jelicoe,” pleaded Thomas. “Without any of the advantages of her parents,
+Aunt Jelicoe--and--oh, I have something more to say to you--not about
+them--about ourselves--you and me--I was nearly forgetting--you will
+stay----”
+
+“One cannot remember everything, Mr. Barlowe,” said Fanny, with her
+hand on the knob of the door. “You have done very well, I think, in
+remembering so much as you have told me. As for ourselves--you have
+quite convinced me of my own insignificance--and yours also, sir. You
+would be doing us a grave injustice were you to speak of us so soon
+after your estimable relations.”
+
+“Perhaps you are right,” said he, after a few moments of frowning
+thought. “Yes. I see now that it might have been wiser if I had begun
+with ourselves and then----”
+
+Fanny had turned the handle. She re-entered the dining-room, and the
+moment that she appeared silence fell upon the company, and once again
+she was conscious of many eyes gazing at her and of horrid smiles and a
+smirk. That was another ordeal for the shy little Miss Burney--it was an
+evening of ordeals.
+
+She walked straight across the room to her stepmother.
+
+“I am ready to go away now,” she said. “We have never stayed at any
+house so long when we only came for tea. I am tired to death.”
+
+She took care, of course, that Mrs. Burney only should hear her; and
+Mrs. Burney, being well aware that Fanny was not one to complain unless
+with ample cause, charitably interposed between her and Mrs. Barlowe,
+whom she saw bearing down upon her from the other side of the room.
+
+“Fanny and I will say our good-night to you now, my dear Martha,” she
+said. “You have treated us far too kindly. That must be our excuse for
+staying so long. When people drop in to tea they do not, as a rule, stop
+longer than an hour, as you know. But you overwhelmed us.”
+
+“I was hoping--” began Mrs. Barlowe, trying to get on to Fanny, but by
+the adroitness of Mrs. Burney, not succeeding. “I was hoping--you know
+what I was hoping--we were all hoping--expecting--they were in the
+drawing-room long enough.”
+
+Mrs. Burney gave her a confidential look, which she seemed to interpret
+easily enough. She replied by a confidential nod--the nod of one who
+understands a signal.
+
+“Mum it shall be, then,” she whispered. “Not a word will come from me,
+simply good-night; but we could all have wished--never mind, Thomas will
+tell us all.”
+
+Mrs. Burney allowed her to pass on to Fanny, having obtained her promise
+not to bother the girl--that was how Mrs. Burney framed the promise in
+her own mind--and Mrs. Barlowe kept faith with her, and even persuaded
+Alderman Kensit, who was approaching them slowly with a sheaf of notes
+in his hand, to defer their delivery in the form of a speech until the
+young woman had gone.
+
+And thus the visitors from St. Martin's Street were able to escape going
+through the formality of taking leave of all the party. They shook hands
+only with their host and hostess and their son, curtseying very politely
+to the company of relations.
+
+“They are warm-hearted people, but their weakness for ceremony and the
+like is foolish enough,” said Mrs. Burney to Fanny, when they were safe
+within the hackney carriage.
+
+Fanny laughed.
+
+“Oh, indeed, there is no harm in any of them,” she said. “They may be
+a little foolish in thinking that the Poultry is St. James's Palace or
+Buckingham House. The only one among them who is an arrant fool is the
+son. You saw how his mother made it up that he should lead me into the
+other room?”
+
+“It was maladroitly done indeed. What had he to say to you when he got
+you there, I wonder?”
+
+“He had nothing to say to me except that his uncles were second in all
+the virtues and all the talents to no man in town, and that his aunts
+and cousins--but he did not get so far in his praise of his aunts and
+cousins; I fled. Oh, did you see him cut slices off the ham?”
+
+Fanny laughed quite pleasantly, with a consciousness of having at
+her command the material on which to found a scene that would set her
+sisters shrieking.
+
+“Oh, if Mr. Garrick had but seen him carve that ham!” she cried.
+
+“I wish that Mr. Garrick would give all his attention to his own affairs
+and leave us to manage ours in our own way,” said Mrs. Burney.
+
+“What? Why, what had Mr. Garrick to do with our visit to----”
+
+“'Twas Mr. Garrick who continued his fooling of Mr. Kendal, sending him
+all over the town trying to make matches. He believes that he is under
+a debt of gratitude to Mr. Garrick and your father for the happiness he
+enjoys with his bride.”
+
+“And he suggested that a match might be made between someone in St.
+Martins Street and someone in the Poultry? But how does Mr. Kendal come
+to be acquainted with the Barlowes?”
+
+“His wife was a Johnson before she married her first husband, and the
+Johnsons are closely connected with the Barlowes.”
+
+“Young Mr. Barlowe was just coming to the family history of the Johnsons
+when I interrupted him.”
+
+“Was he coming to any other matter that concerned you more closely,
+think you?”
+
+Fanny laughed again, only much longer this time than before. She had to
+wipe her eyes before she could answer.
+
+“Dear mamma,” she said, “you would laugh as heartily if you had seen him
+when he suddenly recollected that in his eagerness to make me acquainted
+with the glories of the Kensits and the abilities of the Johnsons, he
+had neglected the object of his excursion to that room with my poor
+self, until it was too late.”
+
+“I doubt it,” said Mrs. Burney. “I do not laugh at incidents of that
+sort. I lose patience when I hear of a young man neglecting his chances
+when they are offered to him. But had he ever a chance with you, Fanny?”
+
+“Not the remotest, dear mamma. If he had remembered to speak in time,
+and if he had spoken with all the eloquence of his admirable uncle, the
+Alderman, he would not have succeeded. If Thomas Barlowe were the last
+man in the world I should e'en die an old maid.”
+
+“That is a foolish thing for you to say. You may die an old maid for
+that. But indeed when I saw young Mr. Barlowe in his home, I perceived
+that he was not for you. I could not see you a member of that family,
+worthy though they may be.”
+
+“I think if a girl loves a young man with all her heart she will agree
+to marry him, however worthy may be his family,” said Fanny. “But I am
+not that girl, and young Mr. Barlowe is not that man.”
+
+“I daresay that is how you feel,” said the elder lady. “But you must not
+forget, Fanny, that you are no longer a girl; it is quite time that you
+had a house of your own.”
+
+“That is true, dear mamma, but for the present I am happy in living in
+your house, and I ask for nothing better than to be allowed to stay in
+your service.”
+
+“That is all very well, but----”
+
+“Ah, do not introduce that 'but'--life would be thoroughly happy if it
+were not for its 'buts.' Here we are in Leicester Fields. I feel as if
+I should like a roast apple for supper, to put a pleasant taste in my
+mouth at the close of the longest day I can remember.”
+
+They entered the parlour on the ground floor, and found Lottie and
+Susy roasting apples on the hearth, while Dr. Burney sat in his chair
+reading.
+
+“I did not expect you back so soon,” said Mrs. Burney to her husband.
+
+“I did not mean to return for another hour,” said he, “but Sir Joshua
+left early and brought me with him in his coach. He cut his evening
+short in order to get back to a book which he affirms is the best he has
+read since Fielding.”
+
+“It would have to be a good book to take the attention of Sir Joshua,”
+ said Mrs. Burney. “Did you hear what was its name?”
+
+“It is called 'Evelina,' I believe,” replied Dr. Burney.
+
+“A novel, of course. I remember hearing the name some time ago,” said
+his wife. “'Evelina'; yes, it has a familiar sound. I cannot recollect
+at this moment who it was that mentioned it to me. I believe I told you
+of it at the time, Fanny.”
+
+“I do not remember your telling me that anyone had mentioned it to you;
+but I am nearly sure that that was the name of the novel advertised in
+the _Chronicle_--you read out all about it after breakfast one morning,”
+ said Fanny.
+
+“You are quite right--that was how I got the name in my mind. Now you
+can have your roasted apple, child. But if you are hungry you have only
+yourself to thank for it. Don't bend so over the fire, Susy; your face
+is frightfully fed--so, for that matter, is Lottie's. No, thanks, you
+need not roast one for me.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+|SOME weeks had passed since Cousin Edward had brought his exhilarating
+news that the book was being asked for at the libraries, and during this
+interval, Fanny had heard nothing of its progress. She had applied in
+the name of Mr. Grafton for a copy to be addressed to the Orange Coffee
+House, but Mr. Lowndes had paid no attention to her request, Edward
+found out on going to the Coffee House, so it seemed plain to Fanny that
+the book was not making the stir in the world that her cousin's report
+from the libraries had attributed to it. But here was a distinct proof
+that it had at last reached their own circle, and somehow Fanny and her
+sisters felt that this meant fame. Somehow they had come to think of
+the readers of the book as being very remote from them--people whom they
+were never likely to meet; they had never thought of the possibility of
+its being named under their own roof by anyone not in the secret of its
+authorship. But now the strange thing had come to pass: it was not
+only named by their father, but named with the most extraordinary
+recommendation that it could receive!
+
+What! Sir Joshua was not only reading it, but he had curtailed his stay
+at the club in order to get home to continue it! Sir Joshua had actually
+been content to forsake the society of his brilliant friends, every one
+of them more or less notable in the world, in order that he might read
+the story which Fanny Burney had written all out of her own head!
+
+The idea was simply astounding to the girls and to Fanny herself as
+well. It meant fame, they were assured, and they were right. It took
+such a hold upon Susy and Lottie as prevented them from giving any
+attention to Fanny's amusing account of the evening at the Barlowes';
+and the fun she made--modelled on Mr. Garrick's best nursery style--of
+the Alderman and Mrs. Alderman, with the speeches of the one and the
+St. Giles's curtsies of the other, went for quite as little as did her
+imitation of the bobbing of the crown feathers of the aunts and the
+rustling of their dresses, the material of which was too expensive to
+be manageable: the thick silk was, Fanny said, like a valuable horse,
+impatient of control. She showed how it stood round them in massive
+folds when they curtsied, refusing to respond to the many kicks they
+dealt it to keep it in its place.
+
+From the recalcitrant silks--with illustrations--Fanny had gone to the
+slicing of the ham, the hacking at the great sirloin, the clatter of the
+teacups, and the never-ending passing of plates and pickles, of mustard
+and pepper and salt--the things were moving round the table as the
+planets were shown circling round the sun in the clever invention called
+the Orrery, after one of the titles of the Earl of Cork--only the noise
+made by the perpetual handing on of the things did not suggest the music
+of the spheres, Fanny said.
+
+Her descriptions, bright though they were and full of apt metaphors,
+went for nothing. Her sisters were too full of that wonderful thing
+which had happened--the great Sir Joshua Reynolds, President of the
+Royal Academy, the painter of all the most beautiful duchesses that
+were in the world, to say nothing of beautiful ladies of less exalted
+rank--this great man, who was so busy conferring immortality upon
+duchesses that he was compelled to keep in his painting-room on Sundays
+as well as every other day, and who had never been known to suspend
+his work except upon the occasion of the death of his dear friend Dr.
+Goldsmith--this man was actually at that very moment sitting in his
+arm-chair eagerly reading the words which their sister Fanny had
+written!
+
+The thought was too wonderful for them. The effect that it had on them
+was to make them feel that they had two sisters in Fanny, the one a
+pleasant, homely, hem-stitching girl, who could dance the Nancy Dawson
+jig for them and take off all the people whom she met and thought worth
+taking off; the other a grave authoress, capable of writing books that
+great men forsook the society of other great men to read!
+
+They looked on her now with something of awe in their eyes, and it was
+this lens of awe which, while magnifying her work as a writer where it
+came into their focus, made them fail to appreciate her fun, for they
+saw it, as it were, through the edges of the lens and not through the
+centre.
+
+She quickly perceived the lack of sympathy of her audience.
+
+“What is the matter with you both to-night?” she cried--they were now
+upstairs in her room, and she knew that at the same moment Mrs. Burney
+was giving her husband an account of the party. “What is the matter
+with you both? Has anything happened when I was away to put you out? Why
+don't you laugh as usual? I am sure I never told you anything half so
+funny as this, and I was thinking all the way coming home that it would
+make you roar, and now you sit gravely looking at me and not taking in
+half I say. Pray, what is the matter?”
+
+“Nothing is the matter, dear,” said Lottie. “Nothing--only I can't help
+thinking that Sir Joshua is at this moment sitting eagerly reading the
+book that you wrote--you, sister Fanny, that no one who comes to us
+notices particularly. I can hardly bring myself to believe that there is
+only one Fanny.”
+
+Fanny looked at her strangely for some moments, and then said:
+
+“I do not blame you, dear; for I am myself of the same way of thinking:
+I cannot realize what the padre told us. I cannot think of myself as the
+Fanny Burney whose book is keeping Sir Joshua out of his bed. That is
+why I kept on harping like a fool on the single string of that odious
+party. I feel that I must keep on talking, lest my poor brain should
+give way when I sit down to think if I am really Fanny Burney, who was
+ever happiest sitting unnoticed in a corner when people came to this
+house, or laughing with you all up here. I cannot think how it would
+be possible for me to write a book that could be read by such as Sir
+Joshua.”
+
+“Better think nothing more about it,” said Susy, who fancied she saw
+a strange look in Fanny's eyes. “What's the good of brooding over the
+matter? There's nothing strange about Sir Joshua's reading the book:
+I read it and I told you that it was so lovely everybody would want to
+read it. Besides, Sir Joshua may only have mentioned it for want of a
+better excuse to leave the club early; so you may not be so famous after
+all, Fanny.”
+
+Susy's well-meant attempt to restore her threatened equilibrium was
+too much for Fanny. But there was a considerable interval before her
+laughter came. She put an arm about Susy, saying:
+
+“You have spoken the truth, my dear sister. I have no right to give
+myself airs until we find out exactly how we stand. But if Fanny Burney,
+the dunce, should find out to-morrow that Sir Joshua has not really
+been kept out of his bed in order to read 'Evelina' by Fanny Burney, the
+writer, the first Fanny will feel dreadfully mortified.”
+
+“One thing I can promise you,” said Susy, “and this is that Susannah
+Burney will not be kept out of her bed any longer talking to Fanny
+Burney about Fanny Burney's novel, whether Fanny Burney be mortified
+or not. We shall know all about the matter when we go to the Reynolds's
+to-morrow. In the meantime, I hope to have some hours of sleep, though
+I daresay that Fanny Burney will lie awake as a proper authoress should
+do, thinking over the exciting party in the Poultry and wondering how
+she will work in a description of it in her next novel. Good-night, and
+pleasant dreams! Come along, Lottie.”
+
+And Fanny Burney did just what her sister had predicted she would do.
+She recalled some of the incidents of the tea-party in the Poultry,
+having before her, not as she had in the hackney coach, the possibility
+of describing them in a letter to Mr. Crisp, but of introducing them
+into a new book.
+
+Before she slept she had made up her mind to begin a new book; for she
+now found it comparatively easy to believe that Sir Joshua was reading
+“Evelina” with great interest. At any rate, she would hear the next day
+when she should go to the Reynolds's, whether Sir Joshua had read it,
+or whether he had only made it an excuse for getting home early in the
+night, so that he might arise early and refreshed to resume his painting
+of the duchesses.
+
+But the next evening, when, with her sisters and their stepmother she
+tripped along the hundred yards or so of Leicester Fields that lay
+between their house and that of Sir Joshua Reynolds, all thoughts of
+the book which she had written and of the book which she meant to write,
+vanished the moment that she was close enough to Sir Joshua's to hear,
+with any measure of clearness, the nature of the singing, the sound of
+which fell gently upon her ears.
+
+“H'sh!” said Mrs. Burney, stopping a few feet from the door. “H'sh! some
+one is singing. I did not know that it was to be a musical party.”
+
+“It is Signor Rauzzini,” said Lottie. “I would know his voice anywhere.
+We are lucky. There is no one who can sing like Signor Rauzzini.”
+
+“We should have come earlier,” said Mrs. Burney. “But when Miss Reynolds
+asked us she did not say a word about Rauzzini. And now we cannot ring
+the bell, lest we should interrupt his song.”
+
+She stood there with the three girls, under the lighted windows of the
+house, listening to the silvery notes of the young Roman that floated
+over their heads, as if an angel were hovering there, filling their
+ears with celestial music. (The simile was Susy's.) The music sounded
+celestial to the ears of at least another of the group besides Susy; and
+that one thought:
+
+“How can anyone trouble oneself with such insignificant matters as the
+writing of books or the reading of books, when such a voice as that is
+within hearing?”
+
+And then, all at once, she was conscious of the merging of the two
+Fanny Burneys into one, and of the existence of a new Fanny Burney
+altogether--the Fanny Burney who was beloved by the celestial singer,
+and this was certainly the most wonderful of the three.
+
+The thought thrilled her, and she knew that with it the truth of life
+had come to her: there was nothing worth anything in the world save only
+loving and being loved.
+
+And this truth remained with her when the song had come to an end,
+soaring to a high note and dwelling on it for an enraptured space and
+then dying away, so gradually that a listener scarcely knew when it had
+ceased.
+
+Fanny's imagination enabled her to hear, at the close, the drawing-in of
+the breath of the people in the room where the song had been sung: she
+knew that up to this point they had been listening breathlessly to
+every note. She could hear the same soft inspiration--it sounded like
+a sigh--by her sisters and their stepmother. A dozen wayfarers through
+Leicester Fields had been attracted to-the house by the sound of the
+singing, and now stood timidly about the doorway. They also had been
+breathless. One woman murmured “Beautiful!” Fanny could understand
+how the word had sprung to her lips, but what could the man mean, who,
+almost at the same moment, said:
+
+“Oh, my God! how could I have been so great a fool?”
+
+She was startled, and glanced at him. He was a young man, shabbily
+dressed, and on his face there were signs of dissipation. He was
+unconscious of her glance for some moments, then with a slight start he
+seemed to recover himself. He took off his hat with a respectful bow,
+and then hurried away. But Fanny saw him turn when he had gone about a
+dozen yards into the roadway, and take off his hat once more, with his
+eyes looking up to the lighted windows of the house. He was saluting the
+singer whom he had not seen, and to Fanny the act, following the words
+which he had unwittingly uttered, was infinitely pathetic.
+
+It appeared that Mrs. Burney herself received the same impression. Fanny
+was surprised to hear her say:
+
+“Poor fellow! he was once a gentleman!”
+
+Then they entered Sir Joshua's house and were shown upstairs to the
+great painting-room, where Sir Joshua and his sister Frances were
+receiving their guests.
+
+It was quite a small party--not more than a score of people altogether,
+and all seemed to be acquainted with one another. Fanny knew several of
+them; one girl, however, she had never seen before, but she knew who
+she was in a moment. She was standing at one end of the room chatting to
+Mrs. Sheridan, and on the wall just above her there hung the picture of
+a girl in oriental costume and wearing a turban. Fanny Burney had often
+looked at it in admiration, and Sir Joshua had encouraged her, affirming
+that it was the best picture he had ever painted and that it would
+remain in his painting-room until the day of his death. She looked at
+it now with renewed interest, for the original was the girl standing
+beneath it--the beautiful Miss Homeck whom Oliver Goldsmith had called
+the Jessamy Bride. Several years had passed since Sir Joshua had painted
+that portrait, from which Miss Burney had recognized the original; and
+fifty years later another lady recognized the same face, still beautiful
+in old age, from having seen merely a print of the same picture.
+
+When Fanny turned her eyes from the portrait it was to admire the
+features of Mrs. Sheridan. Mrs. Sheridan was gazing somewhat pensively
+at the picture of St. Cecilia which was hanging a little way from that
+of Miss Horneck, and Fanny was near enough to her to perceive how her
+expression grew into that of the face in the picture. At first sight, it
+did not appear to Fanny that the two faces were the same, and it seemed
+as if Mrs. Sheridan perceived this, and determined to vindicate Sir
+Joshua's skill by assuming the pose of the picture. But Miss Burney knew
+that the beautiful lady had done it unconsciously--that it was simply
+because she was recalling the days when she had sat for the painter, and
+had obeyed his injunction to lose herself among the simple chords of the
+aria that was sacred to her since her sister died with the strain upon
+her lips--“I know that my Redeemer liveth.”
+
+Fanny gazed at the exquisite face, illuminated with what seemed to her
+to be a divine light, and for the first time she knew something of what
+it was to be a great painter. After “St. Cecilia” the other portraits on
+the walls seemed paltry. There was no divine light in the faces of the
+duchesses. There was life in them; they breathed and smiled and posed
+and looked gracious, but looking at them one remained on earth and among
+mortals. But St. Cecilia carried one into the glorious company of the
+immortals. “She drew an angel down,” was the line that flashed through
+Miss Burney's mind at that moment. An angel? A whole celestial company.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+|YOU are looking at her--I, too, have been looking at her; she is
+divine,” came a voice beside her. She did not need to turn to see the
+speaker. She had been longing for the sound of his voice for many days.
+She had not even a chance of hearing him sing before this evening.
+
+“She is St. Cecilia herself,” said she. “You have seen Sir Joshua's
+picture?”
+
+“My countryman, Piozzi, pointed it out to me,” he replied. “I was
+enraptured with the picture. But when the living St. Cecilia entered the
+room and I heard her story, I felt ready to throw myself at her feet and
+implore her as the guardian of poor singers to take me to her care. Her
+face has on it the bloom of a flower dropped fresh from the garden of
+God--angelic beyond the voice of man to describe.”
+
+He spoke, as usual, in French to Fanny, but he had greeted Mrs. Burney
+in English, and he tried to translate his last phrase to her into the
+same language. He failed after the first word or two, and begged Miss
+Burney to complete his task for him. She did so, and her stepmother
+smiled and nodded in appreciation of his comment.
+
+“She is indeed a beautiful creature,” said Mrs. Burney. “I heard her
+sing more than once at Bath. People went mad about her beauty and her
+singing, and truly I never heard any singing that so affected me. It was
+said that she hated to let her voice be heard in public. Her father,
+Mr. Linley, made her sing: she was a gold mine to Mr. Linley and he knew
+it.”
+
+Signor Rauzzini had listened attentively and picked up all that she had
+said without the aid of a word from Fanny.
+
+“But now she will never be heard again no more,” said he in English.
+“And she is right in making such a resolution, and her husband is a
+noble man to agree with her in this,” he continued, but in French to
+Fanny. “Picture that lovely creature placing herself on the level of
+such a one as the Agujari! sordid--vulgar--worldly! quarrelling daily
+with the _impresario_ on some miserable question of precedence---holding
+out for the largest salary--turning a gift which should be divine into
+gold! Oh; she was right.”
+
+“Signor Rauzzini no doubt thinks it a pity that such a voice should
+cease to give pleasure to the thousands it enchanted,” said Mrs. Burney,
+not being able to follow him in French.
+
+“Oh, no, no; just the opposite,” cried Fanny. “He says he admires her
+the more for her resolution.”
+
+“I am so glad. Pray tell him that I agree with him,” said Mrs. Burney.
+“A good woman will avoid publicity. Her home should be sufficient for
+her.”
+
+Fanny did not need to translate the words, he grasped their meaning at
+once.
+
+“I agree with all of my heart, madame,” he cried. “I would not wish my
+mother or my sister to have their names spoken with freedom by
+everyone who paid a coin to hear them sing. I should think it--_come
+si chiamo?_--Ah! forgive my poor English.” He went off into French once
+more--“Pray tell madame that I think it would be odious to hear the name
+of my mother or my sister tossed from man to man as they toss the name
+of a woman who comes before the public. I think the woman who would hide
+herself from all eyes as a violet hides itself under a leaf is the true
+woman. The shy, timid, retiring one--I know her--I esteem her. I could
+love no other. I have a deep respect for the woman of the Orient who
+would die sooner than let her face be seen by a man.”
+
+“What does he say--I like his eagerness?” asked Mrs. Burney.
+
+Fanny translated some of his phrases, and Mrs. Burney nodded and smiled
+her approval.
+
+“The bloom on the wing of a butterfly is a very tender thing,” resumed
+the Roman; “the breath of a man is sufficient to remove it--a single
+breath--and when the bloom has gone the charm of the beautiful creature
+has gone also.”
+
+“I am not sure that I like the comparison to the butterfly,” said Fanny,
+smiling. “The butterfly is the emblem of all that is fickle--all that
+is idle except for its yielding to its fickleness. It is beautiful, but
+nothing else.”
+
+He laughed.
+
+“I am rebuked,” he said. “But with us the butterfly is the symbol of the
+life--of the soul. Assume that and you will, I think, see that I meant
+not to hint at the beauty of the frivolity, but at the beauty of the
+soul. I feel that a woman's life has on it the bloom of a butterfly's
+wing, and if that is once breathed on, its beauty is gone for ever--the
+woman's life is never again what it was--what it was meant to be. But
+if you wish, I will not go beyond the violet as my emblem of the best
+woman--my woman.”
+
+“I thank heaven that I have no voice,” said Fanny gently, after a
+pause. Young Mr. North-cote, Sir Joshua's pupil, had approached Mrs.
+Burney--his eye was on Susy--in order to tell her that tea was being
+served in the drawing-room.
+
+Mrs. Burney thanked him and took the arm that he offered.
+
+“We shall all go in together,” said Mrs. Burney, with a sign to Fanny.
+
+But Rauzzini contrived to evade her eye by renewing his admiration of
+the “St. Cecilia.”
+
+“If I could but reproduce in song the effect that flows from her face I
+should be the greatest singer in the world,” said he.
+
+“You need not envy her,” said Fanny. “Do you remember Mr. Handel's
+setting of 'Alexander's Feast '?”
+
+“Only an aria or two.”
+
+“One of the lines came into my mind just now when I looked at that
+picture. 'She drew an angel down.'”
+
+“And it was very apt. She would draw an angel down.”
+
+“Yes; but the poet has another line before that one--it refers to a
+singer--'He raised a mortal to the skies.' That was the line which came
+to my mind when I heard you sing. You raise mortals to the skies. Your
+power is equal to that of St. Cecilia.”
+
+“Nay, nay; that is what you have done. I have been uplifted to the
+highest heaven by you. When you are near me I cannot see anything of the
+world. Why have we not met more frequently? Ah, I forget--I am always
+forgetting that the months you spoke of have not yet run out. But I am
+not impatient, knowing that the prize will come to me in good time.
+I have been away at the Bath and Salisbury and Bristol and I know not
+where, singing, singing, singing, and now I go to Paris and Lyon for a
+few months, but you may be certain that I shall return to England--then
+the separating months shall have passed and you will welcome me--is not
+that so?”
+
+“I think I can promise you--every day seems to make it more certain that
+I shall welcome you.”
+
+“My angel--my dream!----”
+
+He said the words--both long-drawn monosyllables in French--in a whisper
+that gave them the full force of passionate expression. He had need to
+whisper, for several people were in the room, and Mr. Boswell was among
+the number, and everyone knew that Mr. Boswell, as a gossip-monger, had
+no equal in town. He was always pimping and prying--nosing out germs
+of scandal--ever ready to make mischief by telling people all the
+nasty things other people had said of them. Mr. Boswell had his eye on
+them--and his ear. In addition, Mrs. Thrale, who had arrived late, had
+no idea of allowing the handsome Roman singer to waste himself with a
+nonentity like Miss Burney, and she was now perilously close to him whom
+she came to rescue.
+
+But the whisper and the expression imparted to it were enough for Fanny
+Burney. He might have talked for hours in his impassioned way without
+achieving the effect of his whispered exclamations.
+
+Then Mrs. Thrale hastened up to his side full of her resolution to
+rescue him from the conversation with the insignificant person whom his
+good nature suffered to engage his attention.
+
+“Why, what is this?” cried the little lady who regarded herself with
+complacency as the soul of tact. “Have you explained to Signor Rauzzini
+that you are the unmusical member of the family, Miss Burney?”
+
+“I believe that he is aware of that fact already, madam,” replied Fanny.
+
+“And yet he is in close converse with you? He is the most good-natured
+man in town,” said Mrs. Thrale. “Does he hope to interest you when your
+father failed?”
+
+“He has never ceased, to interest me, madam,” said Fanny.
+
+“Then he did not talk about music?”
+
+“Oh, yes; I think he said something about music.”
+
+“Yes, touching a note here and there, as one might in passing a
+harpsichord. Of course you could not have lived in Dr. Burney's house
+without being able to understand something of music. But we must not
+trespass upon Signor Rauzzin's courtesy, Miss Burney. Everyone is
+talking of him in the drawing-room--he must gratify the company by
+mingling with them.”
+
+Then she addressed Rauzzini in French.
+
+“I promised to go in search of you, signor,” she said. “Madame Reynolds
+is distracted. I came on my mission famished--I had vowed, as the
+crusaders did, not to taste food or drink until I had succeeded in
+my emprise. May I ask you to have pity on me now and lead me to the
+tea-table?”
+
+He turned to ask Fanny to accompany them, but he found that she had
+slipped quietly away. She was already at the door.
+
+“My duty was to Miss Burney, madame, but she has been frightened away,”
+ said he.
+
+“Oh, she is the shy one of the family, I believe,” said Mrs. Thrale. “I
+am sure that all the time you were so good-natured as to talk to her
+she was wishing that the floor would open and allow her to sink out of
+sight. She would have thought it much more good-natured on your part
+if you had taken no notice of her. I have scarcely spoken to her half a
+dozen times myself, though I have frequently been to her father's house.
+I cannot rack my brain to discover a congenial topic with such young
+people. Were you successful, do you think?”
+
+He made a gesture with his hands that might mean anything. Mrs. Thrale
+assumed that it meant nothing--that he felt he was not greatly concerned
+whether he had been successful in finding a congenial topic of converse
+with Miss Burney or not.
+
+She laughed.
+
+“Poor girl!” she said. “She may have her dreams like other girls.”
+
+“I believe she has--poor girl!” said he. “But I know that in her
+knowledge of music she goes deeper--soars higher than most young ladies
+who have submitted to lessons from a _maestro_--nay, higher than the
+_maestro_ himself.”
+
+Mrs. Thrale looked doubtfully at him.
+
+“Is it possible that we are talking of two different people?” said she.
+
+“Ah, that is quite possible,” said he.
+
+“I was referring to Miss Burney, the one of the family who does nothing
+except sew--her mother commends her sewing very highly. I fear that you
+actually believed that you were in converse with one of her sisters.”
+
+“Madame,” said he, “it is my belief that the one who sews in a family is
+far more interesting than the one who sings. But Miss Burney need not,
+in my eyes, be any more than Miss Burney to be interesting, though she
+has taught me more of music than I ever learned before.”
+
+“Is't possible? Oh, yes: I should remember that her father told me that
+she was his amanuensis--she made a neat copy of all his notes for the
+'History of Music.' It is no wonder that she knows something about
+it. Such a good daughter! And the father took no trouble about her
+education. She did not know her letters till she was eight or nine, I
+believe--perhaps twelve. I don't believe that I ever exchanged half a
+dozen words with her before this evening; and as for men--you are the
+first man I ever saw taking any notice of her.”
+
+His face lit up strangely, Mrs. Thrale thought, at this revelation. He
+gave a laugh.
+
+“So much the better for her--so much the worse for the men,” said he.
+“And now, madame, if the tea has not become too strong, and if your
+hunger has not made you too weak to walk to the table, I should esteem
+it an honour to conduct you thither.”
+
+Mrs. Thrale smiled her acquiescence, and she entered the drawing-room on
+the arm of the singer. Nothing could have convinced her that he did not
+feel grateful to her for rescuing him from the position in which his
+good nature had placed him--by the side of the most insignificant young
+woman among all Sir Joshua's guests.
+
+She believed that she was increasing his debt of gratitude to her by
+keeping him with her for the next half-hour. Her sense of protecting him
+gave her naturally a sense of patronage, which was quite pleasant for
+her to experience, especially when she glanced round the room and saw
+several ladies of higher rank than she could pretend to, frowning in her
+direction. She knew how Signor Rauzzini was pestered by the attentions
+of such as these, and she could almost hear the well-bred sneers of
+her friends as they glanced at her and wondered if she never meant to
+release the unfortunate young man--she knew just what they would say,
+and she accepted their imaginary words as a real compliment to
+her protective powers. Her smile down the table was one of great
+complacency.
+
+She also noticed that the insignificant Miss Burney was glowing as she
+had never seen her glow before. Her face was rosy and her eyes were
+actually sparkling. Mrs. Thrale had never imagined that such eyes as
+Miss Burney's could sparkle, no matter what their provocation might be.
+
+“Poor girl! Poor child! Her head is turned, as I feared it would be
+when I saw the Rauzzini with her. She is the unhappy victim of his good
+nature.”
+
+This was the conclusion come to by the little lady whose ability to
+pronounce an opinion on such a matter was widely acknowledged; and
+coming to such a conclusion, she naturally commended all the more
+heartily the step which she had taken for separating the foolish girl
+and the fascinating young man.
+
+She would have waved aside any suggestion that might be made to her to
+the effect that the increase in Miss Burney's colouring and the light in
+her eyes was due to Miss Burney's overhearing the conversation between
+her mother and Sir Joshua respecting a book which he had stayed up all
+night to read and which he had just finished in time to receive his
+guests.
+
+The name of the book was “Evelina; or, a Young Lady's Entrance into the
+World,” he said, and he was urging Mrs. Burney to follow his example and
+read it without further delay.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+|FANNY was at her stepmother's elbow while Sir Joshua gave her a full
+account of how he had been induced to send to Lowndes for this wonderful
+book on the recommendation of Mrs. Darner, whose portrait he was
+painting. Mrs. Darner had excused her unpunctuality at one of her
+sittings on the ground that she had become so interested in the fortunes
+of “Evelina” that she could not put the book down.
+
+“Get it for yourself, sir,” she had said, “and you will quickly
+acknowledge that my excuse is valid.”
+
+“Of course I did not get it then,” said Sir Joshua. “I find it
+impossible to keep pace with the useful books that are printed in these
+days, and I have long ago given up novels. But when, the next day, Mrs.
+Darner came to sit to me with a woebegone countenance and the traces of
+tears on her cheeks, so that I could only paint her draping, and that,
+too, had a woeful droop in its folds--for let me tell you, madam, that a
+woman's dress is usually in sympathy with the mood of the wearer--when,
+I say, the lady entered my painting-room in this guise, I ventured to
+inquire if she was serious in her wish that I should depict her in the
+character of Niobe. 'Oh, sir,' she cried, ''tis all due to that horrid
+Branghton--he it is that has brought me to this.' 'The wretch!' said I.
+'Have you no friend who will run him through the vitals? Where is he
+to be found, that I may arrange for his destruction?' 'He is the
+persecutor of my beloved Evelina,' she replied, 'and heaven only knows
+what is to become of the poor girl.'
+
+“Now, madam, when I had thus brought before me the effect that the book
+had produced upon so natural a lady as Mrs. Darner, what was left for
+me but to buy it? And now you see the effect that it has had upon me,”
+ continued Sir Joshua, “so you must e'en buy it also.”
+
+“Nay, Sir Joshua,” said Mrs. Burney, “your case has furnished me with
+the strongest of reasons for not buying it. I would not allow a book
+into my house that would so turn me aside from my ordinary life and my
+daily business. What, sir, would you have me stay out of my comfortable
+bed for hours, in order that I might make myself more uncomfortable
+still by reading of the imaginary woes of a young woman who is nothing
+to me but a shadow?”
+
+“Oh, I promise you that you will find Evelina far from being a shadow,”
+ said Sir Joshua. “She is a creature of flesh and blood, with a heart
+that beats so that you find your own heart keeping time with it, whether
+it pulsates slowly or fast. In short, Evelina lives. I have no patience
+with those attenuated figures that dance on the stage of so many of our
+new novel writers; I can see the stuffing of straw when their constant
+gyrating has worked a rip in their seamy side; creatures of rag and
+wire--they never deceive one for a moment--why, their very gyrations are
+not true to life. But Evelina lives. Some of the characters in the book
+are distasteful--some of them are vulgar, but the world is made up of
+distasteful and vulgar people, and a novel should be true to the world
+in which the characters are placed. Oh, that was where the greatness
+of poor Dr. Goldsmith was to be found. He would abate nothing of the
+vulgarity of the vulgar characters in his plays, because he meant them
+to live. The people hissed his vulgar bailiffs in his _Good-Natured
+Man_, and when Colman cut them out he himself restored them when Shuter
+played the piece for his benefit the following year, and everyone saw
+that they were true to life. The vulgarity of Tony Lumpkin and the Three
+Pigeons made Walpole shudder, but there they remain in the best comedy
+of our time, and there they will remain for ever. Oh, yes; the author of
+'Evelina' knows what life is, and so his book will live.”
+
+“And who is the author of this surprising book?” asked Mrs. Burney.
+
+“That is a mystery,” replied Reynolds. “I sent to Lowndes, the
+bookseller, to inquire, and he pretended that he did not know. He could
+only say that he was a gentleman of note living in Westminster.”
+
+“Ah, that is one of the booksellers' tricks to make their wares seem
+more attractive,” said she. “They know that a man in a mask awakens
+curiosity.”
+
+“That is so; but 'Evelina' stands in need of no advertisement of such a
+nature. It would attract attention even though the name of Mr. Kenrick
+were attached to it. But everyone is dying to find out the name of the
+author; Mrs. Darner believes it to have been written by Horace Walpole,
+but only because 'The Castle of Otranto' was published without his name
+being on the title page.”
+
+“Not a very cogent line of argument, it seems to me,” said Mrs. Burney.
+“Well, Sir Joshua, I hope you will enjoy a comfortable sleep to-night,
+now that you have the fortunes of that young lady off your mind.”
+
+“Oh, my dear madam, I do assure you that my mind is not yet free from
+the effects of reading that book,” cried Reynolds. “I am more faithful
+to my friends in some books than to forget all about them when I lay
+them on the shelf. If they live, be assured that I live with them, and
+the thought of them is to me at times as pleasant as the thought of the
+best friends I have met in my daily life. I have laid 'Evelina' on a
+shelf in my memory--not one of the back shelves, but one that is near
+to me, so that I can console myself with her companionship when I am
+lonely.”
+
+“I have never heard you praise a book so heartily, sir,” said Mrs.
+Burney. “But I will beg of you not to mention it to any of my family,
+for if it has so unhinged you, what would it not do to those poor
+girls?”
+
+He did not catch all she had said, for she spoke in a voice which she
+did not mean to travel to Fanny or Susy, who were chatting to Miss
+Theophila Palmer, Sir Joshua's niece.
+
+“You may depend on my telling them all I find out in regard to the
+author,” said he in a tone of assent.
+
+“No, no,” she cried, getting nearer to the bell of his trumpet. “No, no;
+I want you to refrain from mentioning the book to them. I discourage all
+novel reading, excepting, of course, the works of Mr. Richardson, and
+perhaps one or two of Fielding, with some of the pages gummed together
+to prevent them from being read.”
+
+“Nay, to tempt people to read them,” said Reynolds. “What were we saying
+about the attractions of a mask? Well, my word for it, the attractions
+of a book without a name are as nothing compared with the attraction
+of gummed pages. But you will let them read 'Evelina,' and you will,
+moreover, read it yourself--yes, and you will all be the better and not
+the worse for doing so.”
+
+Mrs. Burney shook her head.
+
+It was no wonder that Mrs. Thrale thought that Miss Burney looked
+flushed at this time, or that there was an unwonted sparkle in her eyes;
+for she had heard nearly every word that Sir Joshua had said, and she
+could scarcely contain herself for delight. For all her primness, she
+was at heart a merry schoolgirl, ready to break into a dance at good
+news, and to shout for joy when things had advanced as she had hoped
+they would. She felt that it was very hard on her that she could not
+throw her hat up to the ceiling of the room, as she had heard of Dr.
+Goldsmith's doing with his wig in the exuberance of his spirits in this
+same room--when Miss Reynolds was in her bed upstairs. It was very hard
+on her to be compelled to restrain her feelings; she was unconscious of
+the sparkle in her eyes, or of the pæony flush of her cheeks that Mrs.
+Thrale had noticed and was still noticing.
+
+She had never felt so happy in all her life. A short time before she had
+felt that everything in the world was insignificant in comparison
+with love; but now she realized that there was another joy worthy of
+recognition. She was not wise enough to perceive that the two emotions
+sprang from the same source--that the foundation of love is the impulse
+to create, and that the foundation of an artist's joy in fame is the
+knowledge that what he has created is recognized by the world. She was
+(fortunately) not wise enough to be able to analyse her feelings--to be
+wise enough to analyse one's feelings is to be incapable of feeling. All
+that she was conscious of at that moment was that all worth having in
+the world was hers--the instinct to create, which men call Love, the joy
+of obtaining recognition for the thing created, which men call Fame.
+
+It was no wonder that Mrs. Thrale saw that light in her face and in her
+eyes; nor was it strange that the same observant lady should attribute
+that illumination to the touch of the fire of the sacred torch. She
+looked at the handsome face of the Roman youth, with its expression of
+frankness, and at his eyes, full of the generous warmth of the South,
+and once more she glanced at Miss Burney, and saw in her face the
+reflection of the southern sunny glow.
+
+“Poor girl--poor girl!” were the words that sprung to her lips. “Only a
+moment's attention from him--only a word--nay, a glance from those
+eyes would have been enough--and she is at his feet. Poor girl!
+Knowing nothing of the world--incapable of understanding anything of
+life--having no gift to attract attention---”
+
+“Dear Mrs. Thrale, I have come to you for help. You are sure to have
+read this book that everyone is talking about--this 'Evelina'--and you
+can, I am certain, tell us who is the author. Pray let us know if your
+friend Dr. Johnson had a finger in it--I have heard that some of the
+writing is in the style of Dr. Johnson--or was it Mr. Anstey--they say
+that some chapters could only have come from the author of 'The Bath
+Guide.'”
+
+It was Lady Hales who had hurried up with her inquiries. She seemed
+to be the representative of a group with whom she had been standing,
+several ladies and two or three men.
+
+It so happened, however, that Mrs. Thrale had not yet read the book
+around which discussion had been buzzing; but she had no intention of
+acknowledging that, with her literary tastes and with her friendship for
+Dr. Johnson, she was behind the times. Two or three people had within
+the week made remarks about “Evelina” in her presence, but she had no
+idea that it was to become a topic of society.
+
+She smiled enigmatically, to give herself time to make up her mind what
+her reply should be--whatever it might be, it certainly would not be a
+confession of ignorance. She came to the conclusion that on the whole
+she could not do better than mould her answer so as to heighten the
+mystery of the authorship.
+
+“Is it possible that none of our friends have discovered the author?”
+ she asked, still smiling shrewdly, so as to suggest that she herself had
+long ago been let into the secret.
+
+“We have had many conjectures,” said Lady Hales. “And let me whisper in
+your ear--there is one among us who is ready to affirm that the address
+of the author is Thrale Hall, Streatham.”
+
+“I vow that I am overwhelmed,” cried the little lady. “The compliment is
+one that any writer might envy. Pray how could it enter the mind of any
+of our friends to connect me with the authorship of such a book?”
+
+“There are some touches of your style in many of the letters of
+Evelina,” replied Lady Hales. “And some have said that only you could
+have had the varied experiences described so vividly.”
+
+“A marvellous book, truly, this 'Evelina,'” cried Mrs. Thrale. “Some
+people, you say, recognize the hand of Dr. Johnson in its pages, others
+the pen that wrote 'The Bath Guide,' and now it is suggested that the
+whole was the work of a humble scribbler named Mrs. Thrale--a person who
+has surely little in common with the two writers you have named.”
+
+She took care that her affectation of surprise had an artificial note
+about it. There was no knowing how things might turn out. Mrs. Thrale
+had no objection in the world to have her name associated with the
+authorship of a book about which it was clear a good many people would
+be talking for some months to come.
+
+“May I not be entrusted with something more definite?” asked Lady Hales
+in a low voice. “If it is a secret for the present--well, you know that
+I am one to be trusted.”
+
+“I can assure you definitely that the book was not written by Dr.
+Johnson,” replied Mrs. Thrale, with a smile. “He has not for a single
+week during the past year failed to visit us at Streatham for at least
+four days at a time. He reads to me all that he writes--it is not
+much--and I can give you an assurance that the name of Evelina has not
+once appeared in his manuscript. I may also say that if you take my
+advice you will not be in too great haste to attribute the book to Mr.
+Anstey.”
+
+This was not mystification, it sounded much more like revelation, Lady
+Hales thought.
+
+“I dare not press you further, madam,” she said.
+
+“Believe me, I can appreciate your reticence, if----”
+
+“Nay, now you suggest that I have told you a secret that I have
+concealed from everyone else, and that is going too far,” cried Mrs.
+Thrale. “Now, dear madam, cannot you see that even if I were in the
+secret of the authorship, I should be guilty of a great breach of
+courtesy were I to reveal it to anyone? If an author choose to remain
+anonymous, is it not discourteous to try to snatch away his--or
+her--veil of anonymity?”
+
+“I can but assent,” said Lady Hales. “I do not doubt that this view of
+the matter is the correct one. At any rate, you may depend on my acting
+in accordance with it. I shall make no further attempt to pry into
+the secret, and I shall think it right to dissuade my friends from the
+quest.”
+
+“In that I am sure you will be acting in accordance with the author's
+wishes,” said Mrs. Thrale, smiling knowingly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+|SO they parted; and Lady Hales hastened back to her friends to whisper
+in their ears that the mystery was as good as solved: Mrs. Thrale had as
+much as acknowledged that she was the author of “Evelina,” but she hoped
+that, as she had written the book without the knowledge of her husband,
+her friends would respect her desire to remain anonymous.
+
+“Mr. Thrale, being a Member of Parliament, would not like to have the
+name of his wife bandied about among ordinary people as that of the
+writer of a novel,” Lady Hales explained, though really no explanation
+was needed of a fact that could be appreciated by every sensible person
+aware of the contemptible character of the novels of the day. “Only Dr.
+Johnson is in the secret,” she continued. “Dr. Johnson, as we all know,
+lives at Thrale Hall for five days out of every week, finding the table
+provided by Mrs. Thrale to suit his palate very much better than that
+controlled by poor blind Mrs. Williams at Bolt Court.”
+
+“That may account for some of the touches in the book in the style of
+Dr. Johnson,” said one of the ladies. “You may be sure that no book
+could be written under the same roof as Dr. Johnson without his having
+something to say to it.”
+
+“I never could understand how so fastidious a lady as Mrs. Thrale could
+tolerate the company of Dr. Johnson at her table, but now the secret is
+out--this secret and t'other,” said one of the gentlemen. “Dr. Johnson
+is not seen at his best at the dinner-table.”
+
+“So far as that goes, neither is Mr. Thrale himself,” said another. “He
+has a huge appetite.”
+
+“I had an inkling all along that Mrs. Thrale wrote the book,” said a
+lady with a huge hat. “I actually remarked to my sister, while I was
+reading it, 'if this story is not written by Mrs. Thrale, Mrs. Thrale is
+the one who would like to have written it.'”
+
+“But mind, not a word must be breathed that would hint that she
+acknowledged it to me by direct word of mouth,” cried Lady Hales,
+beginning to have some qualms. “No; you must understand clearly that she
+did not say in so many words that she wrote it. Indeed, her last words
+to me were, that anyone who should name in public the author of a book
+published anonymously would be guilty of a great discourtesy.”
+
+“She is perfectly right: to do so would be to exhibit very bad taste
+truly,” came more than one acquiescent voice.
+
+And the result of their complete agreement on this point was the
+immediate dissemination of the report that Mrs. Thrale was indeed the
+writer of “Evelina.”
+
+But that clever little lady, on getting rid of the questioner, found
+that Signor Rauzzini had slipped away from her side and was now making
+his adieux to Mrs. Burney and her stepdaughters. She noticed that the
+light had gone out of Fanny Burney's eyes as the young singer bent
+over her hand, and once again she shook her head. She had given more
+attention to Miss Burney during the previous hour than during all the
+years she had visited at St. Martin's Street. She thought that it might
+be her duty to say a word of warning to the young woman, who could not
+possibly know anything about the world or the deceitfulness of Italian
+vocalists.
+
+Meantime, however, she ordered one of her three footmen to tell the
+coachman to drive to the shop of Lowndes, the bookseller, and there she
+purchased a bound copy of “Evelina,” at nine shillings.
+
+Mrs. Thrale was, of course, well known to Mr. Lowndes, and seeing her,
+through the window of his office, enter his shop, he put his quill
+behind his ear and emerged, bowing and smiling.
+
+“How was it that you failed to apprise me that you had printed 'Evelina
+'?” she inquired.
+
+“Is't possible that you did not receive my advertisement, madam?” he
+cried. “Why, I posted it to you with my own hands even before the book
+had left the press, the truth being that I was anxious to get your
+opinion respecting it.”
+
+“I never had any advertisement from you about it,” she replied.
+
+“Oh, I was to blame for not underlining the announcement, madam,” said
+he. “I ask your pardon. How were you to know that it was not one of the
+usual novels of the season?--I do not venture to recommend such to the
+attention of ladies of superior tastes like yourself, madam. I shall not
+forgive myself, rest assured. But I am punished, in that I have been
+unable to sell a second edition by telling my customers how highly it
+was esteemed by Mrs. Thrale.”
+
+“You assume that it would be highly esteemed by me, Mr. Lowndes; but I
+am not quite sure that you do not flatter yourself in believing that my
+judgment would be the same as that of the public. The poor public! How
+can they possibly know whether a book is good or bad?”
+
+“They cannot, madam; that is why we poor booksellers must only trust to
+sell our books on the recommendation of ladies of taste and judgment.
+May I beg, madam, that you will favour me with your opinion respecting
+the merits of 'Evelina'?”
+
+“It has been so great a success that I fear I shall not think highly of
+it. Pray, who is your modest author?”
+
+“Positively, madam, I am unable to tell you. The MS. was brought to me
+with a letter purporting to come from a Mr. Grafton at the Orange Coffee
+House, near the Haymarket, and he desired the secret of its authorship
+to be kept close.”
+
+“Ah, yes; to be sure--kept close from the vulgar public; but he could
+never think that you were violating his confidence by telling me his
+name.”
+
+“He could not be so unreasonable, madam--nay, rather would he kneel
+to you--for he could scarce fail to understand the value that we set
+on----”
+
+“I am not convinced either that he would benefit from the exchange of
+confidence or that I should; but prithee, sir, what is his name?”
+
+“'Fore heaven, madam, I have told you so much as is known by me
+respecting the gentleman. Never before have I been placed in so
+remarkable a position. My fault, Mrs. Thrale, no doubt: I should have
+taken precautions against being thus surprised into publishing a book
+without knowing the name of the author. But although my judgment enabled
+me to perceive that the work was out of the common, yet I never counted
+on its merits being recognized so speedily. May I beg of you to favour
+me with your opinion as to who the writer may be, madam--that is, when
+you have read it, unless, indeed--” he glanced at her shrewdly with
+a little knowing smile-- “unless, indeed, you could so favour me
+_instanter_.”
+
+“Nay, Mr. Lowndes, how would it be possible for me to give you an
+opinion as to the authorship of a book which I have not yet read? I am
+not one of those astute critics who, they say, can tell you all there
+is to be known about a book without cutting the leaves, or even--if you
+slip a guinea into their hand--without opening the covers.”
+
+“I thought that perhaps you might be one of those who have been let into
+the secret, madam. I trust that Dr. Johnson's health has not been so bad
+as to prevent him from doing any literary work. Ah, what does not that
+great man--nay, what does not the world owe to you, Mrs. Thrale?”
+
+“If you would suggest, Mr. Lowndes, that the book about which we have
+been conversing was written, even in part, by Dr. Johnson, I can give
+you an assurance that such is not the case. He is in no way inclined
+to engage in any form of literary labour. He grudges his friends even a
+note.”
+
+“There are some gentlemen who come hither and honour me by conversing
+on the subject of letters, and more than one of them has pointed out
+passages in 'Evelina' that show signs of the great Doctor's pen; but for
+that matter----”
+
+“I agree with you, sir; every scribbler in Grub Street apes the style of
+Dr. Johnson, but only to reveal the ape in himself. Now, Mr. Lowndes,
+if you really are in earnest in saying that you are unaware who is the
+author of your book, I have done you some service in curtailing by one
+the list of authors to whom it might possibly be attributed. You may
+strike out the name of Johnson, sir, on my authority.”
+
+“I shall certainly do so, madam--not that I, for my own part, was ever
+foolish enough to fancy that he had written more of it than a page or
+two. I am indebted to you, Mrs. Thrale.”
+
+“Then if you would wish to pay off the debt, you can do so by informing
+me of your success in discovering the writer. 'Tis quite impossible to
+conceive of the man's remaining unrevealed for any length of time, and I
+confess that I am anxious to know if he is among my acquaintance.”
+
+“You assume the sex, madam.”
+
+“What, have you a doubt of it?”
+
+“There are so many literary ladies nowadays, Mrs. Thrale.”
+
+“But you surely saw the handwriting of the script?”
+
+“That is just the point. My printers have examined it and say that it
+is a lady's caligraphy only disguised to look like a man's. In my own
+judgment they are right. It is an upright hand, neat and clear--not in
+the least like that of an author. Still, that counts but little, seeing
+that the writer of the book would be pretty certain to have a clear copy
+made of his script by someone else. I have had a suspicion, from the
+mystery insisted on by this Mr. Grafton, that he is none other than the
+author of the 'Castle of Otranto.'”
+
+“What, Mr. Walpole?”
+
+“Even so. You recollect how delighted he was to conceal the hand he had
+in that book--going much farther than I thought any gentleman would in
+honour go, to make people believe it was what it pretended to be?”
+
+“Mr. Lowndes, I know not what your experience has been; but mine is
+that when a gentleman becomes an author he lays aside whatever sense of
+honour he possesses as a gentleman.”
+
+“I have had little to do with gentlemen authors, madam. Most of my
+writers are simply authors.”
+
+“And Mr. Walpole very properly put himself in line with them, and so had
+no hesitation in carrying out his fraud in 'Otranto.' Well, if it be so,
+you may count on his revealing himself now that the book has become a
+success. In any case, you will not forget to keep me informed, and I
+shall esteem it a favour, Mr. Lowndes.”
+
+Mr. Lowndes renewed his promise and bowed the lady to the door. The
+three volumes of “Evelina” had been brought out to the chariot by one
+of the footmen, a second following in his footsteps to see that he
+deposited them fairly upon one of the cushions, and a third standing by
+the open door in case of the breakdown of either of the others.
+
+Mrs. Thrale got into the splendid machine, the three lackeys swung
+themselves up on their platform behind, and clung on to the heavy
+straps, looking, in their brilliant livery, as the chariot lurched away
+over the uneven cobble-stones, like mighty butterflies of a tropical
+forest swaying together on the rim of a gigantic flower.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+|NO chance had Rauzzini of saying more than the most conventional words
+of farewell to Fanny. Mrs. Burney was beside her and her two sisters
+also. He yielded to his impulse to pronounce a malediction on Mrs.
+Thrale, who had so interrupted his conversation with Fanny--the last he
+could possibly have until his return from France after fulfilling his
+engagements. But this was when he had seen the Burney family out of
+the door of the house in Leicester Fields and to the entrance to St.
+Martin's Street. He was then alone, and could give in some measure
+expression to his feelings in his own tongue.
+
+His imagination was quite vivid enough to suggest to him all that the
+officiousness of Mrs. Thrale had interrupted--the exchange of vows--the
+whispered assurances of fidelity--perhaps a passionate kiss--a
+heaven-sent chance during a marvellous minute when the painting-room
+should be emptied of all but herself and him! It was distracting to
+think of all that had been cut out of his life by that busybody. While
+he had been talking alone with Fanny his eyes had taken in the splendid
+possibilities of the painting-room. There were three immense easels on
+different parts of the floor, and each carried a glorious canvas for
+a life-size portrait. Two of them were already finished, and the third
+contained a portion of the Greek altar at which a fair lady was to be
+depicted making her oblation to Aphrodite, or perhaps Artemis. The young
+man, however, did not give a thought to the glowing work of the great
+painter on the canvases, he thought only of the possibilities of a
+moment or two spent in the protecting shadow of one of them with that
+gentle, loving girl yielding herself to his clasp--only for a moment--he
+could not reasonably hope that it should be for longer than a single
+moment, but what raptures might not be embraced even within that brief
+space! A moment--one immortal moment worth years of life! That was
+what he saw awaiting him in the friendly shade of one of Sir Joshua's
+portraits--that was all that the sublime picture meant to the ardent
+lover--it was not the immortal picture, but the immortal moment that was
+before his eyes--but just when, by a little manoeuvring on his part, the
+joy that should change all his life and console him for being deprived
+of the society of his beloved for three months, was within his reach,
+that foolish woman had come bustling up with her chatter and had
+separated them!
+
+For which he now implored heaven and a heathen deity or two that still
+linger in the language of malediction in their native Italy, to send
+her soul to the region where Orpheus had sought his Eurydice. Down--down
+with her to the lowest depths of the Inferno he implored his patrons to
+bear her and to keep her there for ever.
+
+His imploration was quite as lyrical as his “Waft her, Angels, to the
+Skies,” only its bearing was upon the fate of the lady in just the
+opposite direction, and he was even more fervent in its delivery. But
+having delivered it, he felt some of that relief which is experienced
+by a true artist who has a consciousness of having done some measure of
+justice to his theme. He felt that if beatitude had been denied to him,
+the one who had separated him from it would not escape scathless, if the
+intensity of an appeal to the high gods of his native land counted for
+anything in their estimation.
+
+And then he went more or less contentedly to his lodgings to prepare for
+his appearance in the opera of the night.
+
+He sang divinely as an angel, and again if any of his audience remained
+unmoved by the enchantment of his voice, they certainly could not but
+have yielded to the charm of his presence. Some women might be incapable
+of appreciating the exquisite character of his vocalism, but none could
+remain impervious to the appeal of his smile.
+
+As for the girl who alone had appealed to his heart, she went home with
+her mother and sisters without a word, for she had not perceived the
+glorious possibilities lurking behind the grand canvases in Sir Joshua's
+painting-room. She could even bring herself to believe that the coming
+of Mrs. Thrale had been rather opportune than otherwise; for if she had
+not joined her stepmother at that time she would not have heard all that
+Sir Joshua had said about “Evelina.”
+
+All that she had heard had made her supremely happy, not, she thought,
+because she was greedy for fame, but because it meant to her that she
+was a step nearer to the arms of the man she loved. The fame which Sir
+Joshua's words implied was dear to her because she knew that she need
+not now hesitate to seat herself by the side of this king of men, as his
+equal--no, not quite as his equal, but certainly not as a beggar maid.
+She knew that when it was announced that she was the writer of a great
+book, or, what was better still, a book that everybody was talking
+about, people would not shrug their shoulders when they heard that
+Rauzzini> the Roman singer, whose name was in everybody's mouth, was
+about to marry her. The event that she scarcely dared hope for had
+actually happened: she was no longer the nobody which she had been, she
+was a woman the product of whose brain had been acclaimed by the best
+judges, and so the barrier that she had seen separating her lover from
+herself had been thrown down. The same voices that had acclaimed her
+Rauzzini as a singer had acclaimed her as a writer; for though she had
+hesitated to receive her cousin Edward's reports from the libraries as
+conclusive of the mark that the book was making, she could not now
+have any doubt on the subject: a book that was spoken of by Sir Joshua
+Reynolds as he had spoken of “Evelina” must be granted a place high
+above the usual volumes to be found on the shelves of a circulating
+library. She was convinced that in a short time everyone would be
+talking about it in the same strain, and though people might be
+incredible on the subject of its authorship, the fact would remain the
+same--she had written the book, and the fame that attached to the writer
+would assuredly be hers. There would now be no sneering references to
+King Cophetua. Everyone within their circle would admit that there
+was no disparity between her position as the writer of the book that
+everyone was talking about and that of the singer whom people crowded to
+hear.
+
+She felt supremely happy. Though Mrs. Burney had not shown any
+particular wish to repeat what Reynolds had said to her about the
+book, she knew perfectly well that this was only because of her general
+distrust of anything in the form of a novel, and her fear lest something
+unreadable should get into the hands of the girls. But Fanny also knew
+that the fact of Mrs. Burney's shunning the novels of the circulating
+libraries would not interfere with the reputation that must accrue to
+the author of “Evelina”; so she was not affected by the indifference
+shown by her stepmother to all that Reynolds had said. She awaited
+without impatience the day when her father should take up the book and
+read the Ode at the beginning. She felt that, although his name was not
+at the head, he would know that the verses were addressed to him, and
+that it was his daughter Fanny who had written them. She knew that
+however firmly he might assert himself on the side of his wife in
+preventing the entrance to the house of all novels excepting those of
+Richardson--Fanny herself had never had a chance of reading even
+“The Vicar of Wakefield”--he would be proud of her as the writer of
+“Evelina.” She was not quite sure if he would be as proud of her as if
+she had developed a wonderful musical capacity; but she never doubted
+that his affection for her--assisted by his knowledge of the impression
+the book had made upon the most important of his own associates--would
+cause him to take her into his arms with delight and to forgive her
+for running the chance of being classed among the Miss Minifies of the
+period--the female writers whose ridiculous productions were hidden
+beneath the sofa cushions in so many households. Fanny Burney was a
+dutiful daughter and she had nothing of the cynic about her, but she was
+well aware of the fact that success would be regarded by her father as
+justifying an experiment that failure would have made discreditable.
+
+Once more, then, the three sisters met that night in Fanny's bedroom.
+The two younger could now look on her without their feeling of awe. They
+were on the verge of being indignant with Mrs. Burney for having made no
+reference whatever since returning from the Reynoldses to the subject of
+Sir Joshua's eulogy.
+
+“Not once did she mention the name of 'Evelina' to the padre; Sir
+Joshua might just as well have talked of Miss Herschel's comet to her,”
+ said Susy.
+
+“And after our schooling ourselves so rigidly to give no sign that we
+were in any measure connected with the book too--it was cruel!” said
+Lottie.
+
+“It was not as if the padre did not give her a good chance more than
+once,” continued Susy. “Did he not ask if anyone had given her any news?
+And what did she answer?--Why, only that someone had said that Mr. Fox
+had lost a fortune a few nights ago at faro! As if anybody cares about
+Mr. Fox! I was prepared for her opening out at once to him about the
+book--maybe begging him to send Williams to buy it at Mr. Lowndes'.”
+
+“What, at seven-and-sixpence!” cried Fanny. “My dear child, do you know
+mamma no better than to fancy that?”
+
+“What I don't know is how she resisted it,” said Lottie. “Oh, you heard
+how Sir Joshua talked about it; and Miss Reynolds too--she praised it up
+to the skies.”
+
+“Other people in the painting-room as well as in the drawing-room were
+talking of it,” said Susy. “I heard the beautiful Miss Horneck speak
+of it to the lady with the big muff and the rose taffeta with the
+forget-me-not embroidery.”
+
+“I am sure that everybody was speaking of it--I could hear the name
+'Evelina' buzzing round the rooms,” cried Lottie.
+
+“Yes; everyone was talking about it, and only mamma was silent--_is_
+silent. I don't think that at all fair,” continued Susy.
+
+Fanny laughed.
+
+“You are silly little geese,” she cried. “Could you not see that she
+would not mention it lest it should reach our ears and we should be
+filled with an _irresistible_ desire to possess it--_it_--a modern
+novel! Think of it! Oh, my dears, you are too unreasonable, Mamma knows
+her duty too well to allow even the name of a novel to pass her lips
+and maybe reach the ears of such a group of fly-away young things as
+ourselves! She understands the extent of her responsibilities. Go to
+your beds and be thankful that you have so excellent a guardian.”
+
+“But when we were prepared----” began one of them, when Fanny
+interrupted her.
+
+“You may conserve your preparations--you will hear her say the name soon
+enough--you may depend upon that,” she said. “You may prepare to hear
+yourselves summoned into her presence to give a full and true account
+of your complicity in the thing which was perpetrated under this sacred
+roof--nay, in the very room where the great philosopher Newton wrote his
+thesis! A novel written in the room in which the divine 'Principia'
+was produced! Why, 'twere as bad in mamma's eyes as acting one of Mr.
+Foote's farces in St. Paul's Cathedral. Oh, yes, you'll have to face her
+soon enough, and after that you'll never wish to hear the name Evelina
+again. Now, good-night, and thank heaven for your respite.”
+
+They left her, glum and dissatisfied. It was plain to her that they were
+disappointed at not being given the opportunity of showing how admirably
+they had themselves under control in regard to the secret--of showing
+Fanny how they could hear Mrs. Burney talk at length about “Evelina,”
+ while neither of them gave the least sign of ever having heard the name
+before. It was indeed disappointing that all their studied immobility
+should go for nothing.
+
+But Fanny knew that their secret could not possibly remain hidden for
+many more days. If the book was going into everybody's hands, her father
+would be certain to have it, and then--would he not know? Would not she
+be summoned into his presence and that of his wife--the lady of many
+responsibilities--and required to defend herself?...
+
+She fell asleep before she had come to any conclusion as to the line of
+defence that she should adopt.
+
+And in spite of the readiness of her sisters for any inquisition to
+which they might be summoned, they were startled--as was also Fanny
+herself--when, immediately after a rather silent and portentous
+breakfast, Mrs. Burney said:
+
+“Susy and Lottie, you may go to your duties. You, Fanny, will remain, as
+your father wishes to speak to you on a matter of some gravity.”
+
+So the long-expected hour had come, the three girls thought. By some
+accident unknown to them their secret was exposed, and Fanny was about
+to be called upon to explain, if she could, to the satisfaction of
+her father and her stepmother, how it came that she so far forgot the
+precepts of her upbringing as to write a novel quite in the modern
+spirit, though adopting a form which the master-touch of Mr. Samuel
+Richardson had hallowed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+|THE two girls left the room slowly, after sending in the direction of
+Fanny a glance which they meant should encourage her--a glance which
+should let her know that they were quite ready to share her punishment,
+should the worst come to the worst.
+
+Fanny replied to them with her eyes; and then prepared for the worst.
+
+It quickly came.
+
+“My dear daughter,” said Dr. Burney, when they were alone, Mrs. Burney
+in her chair at the head of the table. “My dear Fanny, I am no believer
+in leading by degrees up to such a communication as I have to make to
+you. I think that the sooner it is got over the better it will be
+for all whom it may concern. Well, this is it: Mr. Thomas Barlowe has
+written to me asking my permission for him to address you with a view to
+marriage.”
+
+He made a pause, looking at her to observe the effect of this
+revelation.
+
+And what he saw at first was a girl with a pale face and downcast eyes,
+awaiting, almost breathlessly, an accusation from which she shrank; but
+when he had spoken he saw a great change come over her. Not immediately,
+but gradually. It seemed to him that she had not fully realized the
+meaning of his words--that she was puzzled--trying to recall what he had
+said. Then the light seemed to dawn upon her. She flushed, and, after
+a few moments, threw back her head and went into a peal of laughter--a
+real schoolgirl's fit of laughter at something amazingly comic--the
+tumbling of a clown into a pool of water with a splash, or, perhaps, the
+slipping of a dignified beadle upon a butter slide. Her laughter went
+on for a long time, but without in the least suggesting hysteria--it
+was simply a girl's natural laughter on realizing the comic side of a
+situation which grown-up people would regard as extremely serious.
+
+Neither her father nor his wife could understand why she should receive
+in such a spirit an essentially serious communication--the most serious
+that any young woman could receive. They had not before them the
+ludicrous picture that presented itself to her imagination--a picture of
+the Roman Rauzzini on the one side and the Poultry Barlowe on the other,
+asking her to choose between them. It was this presentment, coming in a
+flash the moment she realized that the publishing of the book was not
+the question which she had to face, that forced her to yield to that
+long fit of laughter.
+
+Her father and stepmother sat stolidly by, but she knew that had she and
+her father been alone, he would at least have smiled with her.
+
+In a few minutes she had recovered herself sufficiently to be able to
+apologize for her levity.
+
+“I beg your pardon,” she said. “I am behaving like a goose, but I could
+not help it--something forced me--something that occurred to me--a funny
+thing. I am very sorry.”
+
+“There is nothing funny that I can see in the honourable request made by
+an honest young man, my dear Fanny,” said Mrs. Burney.
+
+“No, no; nothing whatever; only--well, funny ideas will occur to foolish
+people like myself at the most serious moments,” said Fanny.
+
+“That is quite true, indeed,” said her father. “I have myself
+experienced what you say. Perhaps, after all, I should not have blurted
+out what I had to tell you--it came to you as a surprise, I doubt not.”
+
+“A great surprise, indeed,” she replied. “I cannot understand how Mr.
+Barlowe could ever fancy that I--that he--that--oh, I should have known
+what that terrible entertainment was meant to lead to--but when, in that
+clumsily marked way I was sent into the drawing-room with him alone, he
+began to talk of his uncle, the Aider-man--he said that the Alderman was
+quite approachable even in regard to ordinary people like ourselves--and
+then came his cousins--all of them remarkable! But you should have seen
+him slice away at the ham--the biggest ham I ever saw--it needed to
+be--such eating!”
+
+“The recollection of that no doubt made you laugh,” said Dr. Burney.
+“But, at the same time, you must remember that though the customs of
+the Poultry are not ours, still, they may be very reasonable
+customs--perhaps more reasonable than our own. It may suit us to dine as
+late as halfpast four and only to have a slice of cake with our tea; but
+business people find it more convenient to dine at one o'clock--it makes
+an equal division of their long working-day--so that a slice of ham----”
+
+“I know that is quite true, and I was not so foolish as to give myself
+airs because I had dined at half-past four and had no appetite for ham,”
+ said Fanny; “but--oh, mother, you saw how foolishly formal was the whole
+thing.”
+
+“I said that I thought it quite unnecessarily formal,” replied Mrs.
+Burney, “and if I had had any notion that it was going to be like that
+I would certainly have given Mrs. Barlowe a hint. Still, Thomas is, I
+know, an excellent young man who has never given his parents an
+hour's uneasiness, and his intentions are honourable, and so should be
+honoured. If you have no tender regard for him at present that is no
+reason why, when you get accustomed to the thought of him as a suitor
+for your hand----”
+
+“Oh, mother, that is quite impossible!” cried Fanny. “How could I ever
+get accustomed to such a thought?”
+
+“I do not know why you should not,” replied Mrs. Burney. “He is a most
+worthy young man, and Mr. Barlowe's business is one of the best in
+the City. You must remember, my dear Fanny, that in these days a girl,
+unless she has a portion, runs a very great chance of becoming an old
+maid, so that no opportunity of settling down in a comfortable home
+should be neglected.”
+
+“That is perfectly true,” said Dr. Burney. “You will understand that we
+have no desire to force this or any match upon you, my dear child: so
+long as I have a house over my head you shall share it. But I am sure
+that you must know that I am a poor man to-day, although I have worked
+as hard at my profession as any living man, and I cannot provide you or
+your sisters with any portion. Heaven knows that if I had a fortune I
+would gladly divide it among you; but as it is, I think it right to tell
+you that you need expect nothing.”
+
+“Dearest father,” said Fanny, dissolving into tears, as she took his
+hand and kissed it, “I have never expected a fortune from you--not a
+penny piece. I know that I shall be portionless, and I daresay that Mr.
+Barlowe thinks himself generous in his proposal; but I could never bring
+myself to accept him--to look on him as a suitor. It would be quite
+impossible. If I thought it possible that I should ever have any
+affection for him, I might feel myself justified in encouraging him; but
+I know that it would be out of the question. I would prefer to go forth
+and beg my bread--nay, to starve.”
+
+“Then we shall pursue the matter no farther for the present,” said her
+father, kissing her on the forehead as she nestled close to him.
+
+“Yes, that is best--for the present,” acquiesced his wife. “Still, if
+you will be advised by me, my dear Fanny, you will remember that Mr.
+Barlowe is ready to address you knowing that you will be portionless,
+and if you bear that in mind, perhaps you will be surprised to find
+some' day, not so far distant, that the thought of him is not so
+repugnant to you. You are no longer a girl, and when one is midway
+between twenty and thirty every extra year counts in reducing one's
+chances of being settled in life. I could cite dozens of instances that
+I have known of young women being glad to accept at twenty-eight the
+suitors they scorned at twenty or even twenty-five. Oh, yes, the years
+come upon one and bring with them a clearer vision of life and love;
+frequently they bring regret for opportunities neglected. But we will
+not press the matter any farther--just now. I dare say the young man
+will submit to be put off--for a time.”
+
+“Nay, for ever,” said Fanny resolutely.
+
+“Oh, well,” said her stepmother.
+
+After a pause, during which Fanny seemed to be debating some matter
+in her mind, a little line showing itself along her forehead, she said
+slowly: “I do not think that I shall be a burden on you, dear father; I
+believe that one day I may be able to do something.”
+
+“Do not fancy that I would ever think of you as a burden, my dear
+child,” said her father. “But what do you mean by saying that you may
+one day do something?--some work, do you suggest?”
+
+“Something--I am fond of writing,” she murmured.
+
+He laughed gently, saying:
+
+“You are a very good girl, my love, and I know how much I am indebted to
+you for your admirable copying of my notes for the History; but do not
+let the idea take hold of you that such work is well paid. If you ever
+get in touch with a bookseller, he will tell you that the work of a
+copyist is very poorly paid.”
+
+“I was not thinking of copying,” murmured Fanny.
+
+“Of what then, pray?” he asked.
+
+“If I could but write a book,” she replied, with her eyes on the floor.
+
+“A book!” cried Mrs. Burney, who thought that she had been silent long
+enough. “A book!”
+
+“To be sure--to be sure,” said her father, in the indulgent tone of a
+parent humouring a child. “You might write a book--so might anyone who
+could pay for a ream of paper, a bottle of ink and a box of quills.
+You should speak to Mr. Newbery about it: he has printed many nursery
+stories since 'Goody Two Shoes.' You might indeed do something that the
+children would take a fancy to. Well, Francis Newbery is as honest a man
+as his uncle, and we may talk to him about it. By the by, did not you
+once tell me that you had written something, or that you were going to
+write something? You thought it proper to get my leave. I had forgotten
+that. Well, if it be a moral nursery story, we might interest Mr.
+Newbery in it.”
+
+“I do not think that it is quite wise to encourage a girl to neglect
+her useful household duties in order to compile some rubbish that no one
+would read,” said Mrs. Burney.
+
+“Of course you will understand that you are not to neglect your
+household duties, Fanny,” said her father.
+
+“If she performs her household duties and sticks to her needlework,
+she will have no time left for scribbling rubbish,” cried Mrs. Burney,
+hastily.
+
+“She made a bonfire of all that childish nonsense long ago, and I hope
+that she will never be so foolish as to waste good paper and pens and,
+most precious of all, good time, over such exercises. That is all we
+have to say just now, I think--is it not, Doctor? I shall reply to Mr.
+Barlowe's letter--a most creditable letter--straightforward--honourable!
+I am only sorry that I cannot make the reply to it that it deserves.”
+
+She had opened the door and called for William, their manservant, to
+remove the breakfast things. Fanny lingered for a few minutes after she
+had risen from her chair. She had assumed from the moment she had begun
+to speak of writing, that her opportunity had come; if her stepmother
+had not interposed so hastily and so emphatically, she would have made
+her confession as to “Evelina,”, let the consequences be what they
+might; but now that the servant had come with his tray and her
+stepmother jingled her key-basket, she perceived that her chance was
+gone. She had a sense of sneaking out of the room.
+
+As she went slowly up the stairs she could hear the voice of her
+stepmother remonstrating with her father for having said something that
+she, Fanny, might regard as encouragement to waste her precious time in
+the pursuit of such folly as writing a book.
+
+She heard her father's little laugh as he explained (she was sure) that
+of course he had not been speaking seriously; but that he had not the
+heart to be severe upon her and her harmless scribbling.
+
+The author of “Evelina” went very slowly upstairs, and when she reached
+the work-room landing she found Susy and Lottie waiting for her, glowing
+with excitement. Susy was waving over her head what seemed to be a bulky
+pamphlet. Coming closer, Fanny saw that it was the chief of the literary
+reviews, which had apparently just arrived at the house.
+
+“A splendid column about 'Evelina,'” she whispered. “Not so good as
+it should be, but still splendid. Here it is. But why are you so glum?
+Surely they did not scold you now that the book is so great a success.”
+
+“They did not ask me to tarry in the room to charge me with
+double-dealing in regard to the book,” said Fanny. “They would not allow
+me to make my confession when I had the opportunity--the best that I
+shall ever have. 'Twas not my confession that was on the _tapis_, but
+quite another. That is why I look glum.”
+
+“Another--another confession? But what had either of them to confess?”
+ cried Lottie.
+
+“Nothing. They didn't confess.”
+
+“But whose confession was it, then, if not theirs?” asked Lottie.
+
+“It was young Mr. Barlowe's,” said Fanny, with a lugubriousness that was
+quite comic. “Young Mr. Barlowe wrote to the padre to confess that
+he was passionately--madly--in love with me, and threatening to drown
+himself unless permission were given to him to address me--we all know
+how fervently young Mr. Barlowe would put his case--that was what I was
+summoned to listen to--the fiery letter--only it was too ardent for my
+ears: I was only told its purport.”
+
+“But who would ever have thought that he had it in him?” cried Susy.
+“Such impudence! I never dreamt that he could rise to such a height of
+impudence or I should have thought better of him.”
+
+“'Tis not too late yet, my child,” said Fanny. “You are at liberty to
+think as highly of Thomas as you please--or as it would please him.
+Please take over his blighted affections and it will be a weight off
+my mind. Now give me a chance of reading my splendid review--not that
+I care in the least what these foolish critics may say of me--I care
+nothing, I tell you, only if you do not let me see it at once I shall
+die at your feet.”
+
+“There it is,” said Susy, “a full column! The idea of anyone written
+of in such terms being proposed to by Thomas Barlowe! Such impudence
+indeed!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+|THE levity shown by Fanny Burney and the flippancy of her phrases did
+not wholly conceal from her sisters all that she was feeling on the
+subject of the proposal to which she had referred with such lightness.
+She knew that while her father and her stepmother would not treat her
+with any marked disfavour on account of her rejection of the worthy
+young man who was ready to offer her a home, still Mrs. Burney at least
+regarded with great disfavour the nature of the answer which she had
+to send to the Poultry, and Fanny was very well aware of the ease with
+which so conscientious a guardian as Mrs. Burney could make her feel
+every day of her life what was Mrs. Burney's opinion of her rejection of
+an eligible young man.
+
+Fanny recognized the great merits of her stepmother, and she could look
+from her standpoint at most of the incidents of their daily life. In
+that household one mouth less to feed was worth consideration--the
+number of mouths to feed was a constant source of thought with Mrs.
+Burney, as was also the question of a provision for the future of all of
+them.
+
+Mrs. Burney would be fully justified in feeling cross with her, not
+being aware of the fact that another young man, compared with whom
+Thomas Barlowe was as the dust of the ground, was burning, with an
+ardour of which Thomas was incapable, to take her to himself and provide
+for her in a style undreamt of in the Poultry.
+
+But the worst of the matter was that she could not let her stepmother
+into this secret. She could not say that she was engaged to marry Signor
+Rauzzini, and she might leave herself open to the gravest rebuke for
+having listened to his protestations of devotion without obtaining the
+consent of either of her parents.
+
+And through all this tangle of reflections there ran the silken thread
+of consciousness that she was no longer the Fanny Burney who was
+regarded by her stepmother as the dunce, but Fanny Burney the writer of
+“Evelina,” to whom the most critical review had devoted a full column of
+adulation!
+
+That was what made her position so anomalous; and it was because she
+took the happenings of the previous days to heart that she went to bed
+with a shocking headache, and after a sleepless night was found on the
+verge of a fever. She was suffering from suppressed secrets; but the
+doctor did not know this. He prescribed James's Powders; and when these
+should have done all that they were meant to do--a small part of all
+that Dr. James and Mr. Newbery affirmed they would do--a change into the
+country.
+
+But several weeks had passed before she was strong enough to start on
+the latter and most essential portion of the prescription, and found
+herself in her own room in Mr. Crisp's isolated house at Chessington.
+
+Meantime, of course, she had no further news of the book, and she
+remained unconfessed, so far as the secret of its publication was
+concerned. Her sisters did not so much as mention its name or the name
+of Thomas Barlowe, so cleverly had they diagnosed the nature of her
+malady and so tactfully did they try to hasten her recovery.
+
+Her old friend Mr. Crisp had been her guide since her childhood. She
+always alluded to him as her second Daddy--so far as paternal influence
+was concerned she might have given him the foremost place. He it was who
+had led her on to embody in letters to him the daily incidents of
+her life, thus unconsciously setting the loom, as it were, in which
+“Evelina” was to be woven. He it was who became her teacher and her
+critic, and it was possibly because she feared his criticism of her work
+that she refrained from making a confidant of him from the first. She
+felt that she could face the public and the reviewers--it did not matter
+how they might receive the book, but she was too timid to submit it to
+the mature judgment of the man who had first put a pen in her hand. It
+was not on her own account that she refrained from giving him a chance
+of reading her book, but on his: she knew how hurt he would be if he
+found her book to be an indifferent one, and whether indifferent or not,
+how angry he would be if people did not buy it by the thousand.
+
+Now, however, that she found herself alone with him, she made up her
+mind to tell him all about it. She would choose her own time for doing
+this; but it would certainly be done before she returned to St. Martin's
+Street.
+
+But on the second day after her arrival at Ches-sington a parcel came
+for her, addressed by Susy. On opening it, she found it to contain two
+volumes of “Evelina.” The letter that was enclosed told her that Cousin
+Edward had called at the Orange Coffee House and found that a set
+had been left there at the instance of Mr. Lowndes, addressed to Mr.
+Grafton. Of these, Lottie had read the first two, which were now sent on
+to the author, but the third she had not finished, and hoped that Fanny
+would not mind her detaining it for a few days longer.
+
+This was really the first glimpse that the author had of her book in its
+binding. She had, in the name of Mr. Grafton, requested Mr. Lowndes
+to send a set of the volumes to the Orange Coffee House. But that was
+nearly three months ago, and until now Mr. Lowndes appeared not to have
+thought it worth his while to comply with the request. Now, however, it
+seemed to have occurred to him that the author of a book that everyone
+was talking about might be worth conciliating, and so he had directed a
+set of volumes to the Coffee House.
+
+At once Fanny made up her mind that she would pave the way, so to speak,
+for a full confession to Mr. Crisp.
+
+“Susy has sent me on two volumes of a new novel, lest I should feel
+dull,” she said. “As if I am not much more likely to feel dull in the
+company of a new novel than of my old Daddy!”
+
+“I thought that your stepmother prohibited the reading of novels, new or
+old, in your house,” said he.
+
+“Perhaps mamma did not know anything about this particular one,” replied
+Fanny; “besides, it is to be read in your house, not ours.”
+
+“So that the responsibility will be mine?” said he. “Mrs. Burney is
+only answerable to heaven for keeping your mind free from the baleful
+influence of novels, but I am in a worse case, for I am answerable to
+Mrs. Burney. And what is the name of the precious production?”
+
+“Let me see,” said Fanny, artfully referring to the title page. “Oh,
+yes: 'Evelina; or, a Young Lady's Entrance into the World.' Do you call
+that an alluring title?”
+
+“Too sentimental by half,” he replied. “But I have heard of the thing,
+and one of the reviews dealt with it some weeks ago.”
+
+“Praise or blame?”
+
+“Oh, foolish adulation for the great part; but not without a reasonable
+word here and there.”
+
+“The reasonable part you are sure must be the censorious? That is not
+fair to the poor author.”
+
+“Poor author? Yes, they are all poor authors nowadays. What's the name
+of this particular item of poverty?”
+
+“There is no name on the title page; but I hear that the writer was Mr.
+Anstey himself.”
+
+“What! another 'Bath Guide'!”
+
+“Sir Joshua Reynolds told mamma that he had remained up all night
+reading it.”
+
+“Poor Sir Joshua! His eyes are none too good at the best! And does Susy
+believe that the book which kept Sir Joshua awake is the best one to
+send you asleep? You came to Chessington, you know, to get as much as
+possible; 'Tired Nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep!' the truest words
+that Shakespeare ever writ.”
+
+“What I propose to do is to try it upon you, my dear sir. I mean to give
+you a dose of it this evening, instead of gruel, and if it makes you
+sleep I will know that I may continue it for myself--it will be more
+wholesome than poppy or mandragora.”
+
+“Good! But I dare swear that it will be bad enough to keep me awake. You
+know that extremes meet in the case of books, as well as other matters;
+one keeps awake reading a good book, in expectancy of its undeveloped
+goodness; and reading a bad one, wondering how far the author can
+actually go in point of dullness.”
+
+“I have often thought that; but Susy has sent only two of the three
+volumes.”
+
+“So that we shall not be able to fathom the full depth of the author's
+dullness? We should be grateful to Susy--so should the author. Well, you
+shall begin after tea, while there is yet daylight: _Le livre ne vaut
+pas la chandelle._”
+
+“_Nous verrons_,” cried Fanny.
+
+And she started reading the book that same day, an hour before sunset.
+The room in which they sat was a small one with a window facing the west
+and overlooking a long stretch of billowy common. The spicy scent of
+the wallflowers in the little garden patch at the side of the house was
+wafted through the half-open lattice, and occasionally there came the
+sound of the ducks gabbling at the pool beyond the gate that shut off
+the house from the lane. It was a cloudless evening, and the sunset
+promised to be peach-like in its tender tints of pink and saffron with
+the curves of delicate green in the higher sky. Fanny sat at the window
+and the old man reclined at his ease upon the sofa.
+
+“I am giving myself every chance,” he said. “All that I ask of you, my
+Fannikin, is that you do not glance at me every now and again to see
+if I am still awake. If you do so, I shall never yield to so much as a
+doze.”
+
+“I promise faithfully to await your signal that you are alert,” said
+she.
+
+And so began one of the most delightful hours of her life.
+
+She was not a particularly good reader aloud when a book was casually
+put into her hands, but here she had before her a volume that she could
+almost have repeated verbatim, so that she soon found that she was just
+too fluent: she felt that if she went on at this rate his critical ear
+would tell him that she had every page by heart, and he would ask her
+for an explanation of so singular a thing as her being able to repeat
+so much of a book which she professed to have in her hands for the first
+time. She put a check upon her fluency, and though she did not go so
+far as to simulate stumbling over certain words, she neglected the
+punctuation now and again, and then went back upon some of the passages,
+causing him to give a little grumble and say:
+
+“Be careful, my dear; there's no need for haste: the evening is still
+young.”
+
+After that she was more careful--which is the same as saying she was
+more careless of adhering to the scheme she had adopted. She felt that
+as he had now been put off the scent, she might run along as she pleased
+without there being a chance of his suspecting anything through her
+showing herself familiar with passage after passage.
+
+Before she had got through more than a dozen pages she heard a creaking
+of the sofa--she trusted herself to glance in that direction and
+found that he was no longer reclining: he was sitting up and listening
+attentively. She continued reading without making a remark for a full
+hour. The sun had set, but the twilight was clear enough to allow of her
+seeing the print on the page before her for some time still; then the
+darkness seemed to fall all at once, and she laid the book down when she
+had come to the close of one of the letters.
+
+“Candles,” he said. “Candles! Upon my word, the world is right for once:
+the stuff is good. We must have candles. Candles, I say!”
+
+“Supper, say I,” cried Fanny. “I feel that I have need of bodily
+refreshment after such a task. Does it sound real to you, Daddy
+Crisp--all about the Young Lady who is about to enter the world?”
+
+“Not merely does it sound real, it is real--it is reality,” he replied
+quickly. “The man who wrote what you have read has something of the
+genius of--of--now whom does he resemble, think you?--Richardson here
+and there, and in places, Fielding, it seems to me.”
+
+“You suppose that 'tis written by a man?” she said.
+
+“Why, of course, 'tis the work of a man,” he replied. “Where is the
+woman living that is capable of writing a single page of that book?
+What, have I gone to so much trouble in training you to understand
+what is bad and what is good in writing, to so little purpose, that you
+should have a doubt as to the sex of what you have just read?”
+
+“The sex of a book--a novel?”
+
+“Why not? There are masculine books and there is feminine--trash. There
+you have the difference.”
+
+“And you do not consider this to be--trash?”
+
+“Will you get the candles, Miss Burney? It seems that you are sorely in
+need of illumination if you put that question to me seriously. Trash?
+Madam, you perceive that I am all eagerness to hear the rest of the
+story, and yet you put that silly question to me! Look you here, you
+rogue, cannot you see that the very fact of your putting such a question
+to me shows that the book is the work of a man? When a carefully trained
+woman such as you cannot yet discriminate between the good and the trash
+that is written, how would it be possible for a woman to write what you
+have read?”
+
+“You think there is nothing womanly in the book?”
+
+“There is nothing effeminate in the writing, so much is sure. There is
+plenty that is womanly in the book, because the man who wrote it knows
+how to convey to a reader a sense of womanliness to be in keeping with
+the character of the letters--that is what is meant by genius. A woman
+trying to produce the same effect would show the frill of her petticoat
+on every page. She would make the men's parts in the book as feminine as
+the women's. Now, no more chatter an you please, but get the candles.”
+
+“And Mrs. Hamilton will get our supper by their light.”
+
+Fanny tripped away, and was behind the door of the larder before she
+allowed the laughter which was pent up very close to her eyes to have
+its freedom. It was a very hearty laugh that she had, for there was a
+constant buzzing in her ears of the question:
+
+“What will he say when he learns the truth?”
+
+She was ready to dance her Nancy Dawson in delight at seeing the effect
+of the book upon the old man whom she loved--the man who was directly
+responsible for its existence. If Mr. Crisp had not taken trouble with
+her, encouraging her to write her letters to him in a natural style, the
+correspondence in “Evelina” would, she knew, be very different from what
+it was. So, after all, she reflected, he was right in pronouncing the
+book the work of a man; but he had no idea that he was the man who was
+responsible for it. That reflection of hers was as fully imbued with the
+true spirit of comedy as her anticipation of the effect that would be
+produced upon him by the revelation of the authorship.
+
+And that was why this young student of the human comedy was able to
+restrain herself from making the revelation to him at once: she had, as
+it were, a delicate palate for comedy, and it was a delight to her--the
+gratification of her natural vanity had nothing to do with it--to lead
+him on to commit himself more deeply every moment on the question of the
+sex of the writer. Oh, no; she had no idea of making any confession to
+him for the present. She would have many another chat with him before
+the moment for that _dénouement_ in the comedy should arrive.
+
+So she got the candles and the housekeeper laid the cold chicken and the
+plates on the supper-table, and Mr. Crisp set about mixing the salad in
+the manner he had acquired in Italy. And all the time they were engaged
+over the simple meal he was criticising what she had read, and he had
+scarcely a word to say about it that was not favourable. But he took
+care to protect himself in case he should be forced to retire from the
+position he had taken up.
+
+“A man is a fool to pronounce an opinion on a book before he has had
+the last page read to him,” he said. “I have only been touching upon the
+part that I have heard, and I say that it seems to me to be as good
+as anything I have read for years; but that is not saying that the
+remainder, or some portions of the remainder, may not be so greatly
+inferior as to compel me to pronounce unfavourably of the book as a
+whole. I have had instances of such inequality shown by many writers,
+and it may be that the writer of 'Evelina' will be added to the list,
+although he shows no sign of falling off up to your last page. Do not be
+hurried by me, my dear, but if you have indeed made up your mind to eat
+no cheese, Mrs. Hamilton can remove the _débris_, and unless you are
+tired, you will read me a few pages more.”
+
+She read until midnight. The only pauses that she made were when he
+trimmed the wicks of the candles. He commended her fluency. She
+had never read better in his hearing, he said. She showed that she
+understood what she was reading; and that, after all, was the greatest
+praise that could be given to anyone. He did not suggest the likelihood
+that she was tired.
+
+There was the sound of the bleating of lambs occasionally borne from the
+meadows beyond the little stream--the sound of an owl that came nightly
+about the house from the barn of the farm a few hundred yards away--the
+sound of a large moth bumping against the glass of the casement through
+which the candle-light shone. There was nothing to interrupt her in her
+delightful task until the church clock struck the hour of midnight.
+
+“Not another line,” she cried, jumping from her chair. “Poor Evelina!
+she will be the better for a sleep. When she awakens she may be able to
+see more clearly who are her true friends and who are not to be trusted.
+Good-night, dear Daddy; and receive my thanks for your attention.”
+
+“Give me the volume,” he said. “I usually awake before six, and so shall
+have a couple of hours of it before rising.”
+
+“You will not get it from me, sir,” she cried. “Captain Mervain knows
+the naval rule about drinking glass for glass, and let me tell you that
+the same rule holds in the matter of reading a book--chapter for chapter
+between us, sir; we shall finish as we have begun.”
+
+She blew him a kiss and ran upstairs to escape his protests: he shouted
+them after her from the foot of the stairs.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI
+
+|THE next morning was a lovely one, and Fanny was feeding the ducks
+in the brook before eight o'clock. When she came into the house to
+breakfast she found Mr. Crisp in the porch.
+
+“You have given me a sleepless night,” he said. “I lay awake
+endeavouring to determine for my own satisfaction what would be the
+outcome of the girl's meeting that dreadful Branghton family. I worked
+out the story to its proper conclusion--so I thought--on my left side;
+but when I turned on my right I found that I had been grossly astray in
+all my fancies; and forthwith I set to work to put myself right. After
+an hour or two I thought I had succeeded, but, lo! a turn on my back and
+I saw that, as I planned it, the story would never come to an end. So
+I kept on until the dawn. Then I fell asleep, but only to find myself
+surrounded by demons, in the form of Branghtons, and a master devil
+wearing the epaulets of a naval officer, and he made for me with a
+horrid leer and a cry of Mervain! I awoke in a worse state than did the
+Duke of Clarence in the play, and I have not slept since. Oh, that
+little mischief, Susy! Wherefore did she send hither that magic book to
+be my undoing?”
+
+“Ah, sir, never before did I perceive the evil of novel reading,” she
+said. “I could not understand my mother's banning all such books, but
+now I see the wisdom of it. I now see how they tend to unsettle one.
+But it may not yet be too late to save you from the evil influence of
+'Evelina.' If I read no more of her story, you will soon forget her and
+all may be well.”
+
+“You will read no more? Good! Carry out your threat and I will e'en take
+the coach to London and buy a full set at Mr. Newbery's.”
+
+“At Mr. Newbery's? Ah, sir, that is a threat you could not carry out,
+however vindictive you might be.”
+
+“And why not, prithee? Think you I would begrudge the seven or eight
+shillings it would cost?”
+
+“Nay, sir; but if you went to Mr. Newbery you would probably find
+yourself treated badly by him if you accused him of publishing the book.
+'Tis Mr. Lowndes who is the guilty person.”
+
+“You will not put one to the humiliation of a journey to London all for
+a trumpery novel?”
+
+“Nay, not for a trumpery novel; but we were talking of 'Evelina.'”
+
+“I submit to the correction, my dear; and so now we are in perfect
+agreement, you will continue the story, if only to allay my sleepless
+speculations.”
+
+“I wonder how it will sound when read in the morning? I fear that it
+will be as dull as a play would seem in the garish light of day.”
+
+“Tell not that to me. There are novels of the morn as well as of
+the even, and I believe that the freshness of this one will be best
+appreciated in the brightness of such a morning as this. At any rate, we
+can but make a trial of it. If we find that it does not read well, you
+can lay it aside till the evening.”
+
+Fanny was delighted to find that he was as interested in her book as
+Susy had been; and the noon came and found her beginning the second
+volume to him, sitting by his side in the sunlight that bathed the
+little garden, and his attention never flagged. Once or twice, however,
+he grumbled, but her ear assured her that his grumble was not a critical
+one; it was only meant to censure the behaviour of the rude Captain
+Mervain.
+
+They were still in the garden when, shortly after noon, a chaise was
+heard in the lane: it appeared to be on its way to the house.
+
+“What! as I live 'tis mamma and my sisters come to pay us a visit,”
+ cried Fanny, seeing a handkerchief waved to her from the window.
+
+“They shall be made welcome, for I cannot doubt that they have brought
+the third volume with them,” said Mr. Crisp, rising to receive his
+visitors.
+
+In this way the reading was interrupted, and indeed Fanny was rather
+glad of a respite. She had not risen from her chair since nine o'clock.
+A chance of stretching her limbs was very acceptable.
+
+Mrs. Burney and the girls had scarcely settled down to their cakes
+and sweet wine, after explaining that Dr. Burney had insisted on their
+taking this drive into the country, the day promised to be so fine, when
+Mr. Crisp turned to Susy, saying:
+
+“You wicked girl! What did you mean by sending us the two volumes of
+that vile novel to upset us poor country folk? And I hope you have not
+neglected to bring with you the third.” Poor Susy reddened and glanced
+at Fanny without trying to make any reply.
+
+“Eh, what is this?” cried the old man. “Do you mean to disclaim all
+responsibility for the act? Ah, 'tis too late for you to make such an
+attempt. The evil has been done. The poison has begun to work in our
+blood; and its effects can only be neutralized by the contents of the
+third volume. Say at once, I pray, if you have brought it.”
+
+“Do not trouble poor Susy with your tropes, sir,” said Fanny. “She
+cannot grasp your meaning, and only trusts that we have not gone mad. I
+suppose the road was as usual--half of it muddy and the rest dusty?”
+
+“I insist on hearing if the third volume is in the chaise,” said Mr.
+Crisp, firmly. “If it be not, then you may drive straight back to St.
+Martin's Street and return hither with it in time for Fannikin to read
+it to-night.”
+
+“Pray what book is it that you refer to, Mr. Crisp?” inquired Mrs.
+Burney.
+
+“What book, madam! As if there were more books than one printed this
+year! Why, Mrs. Burney, where have you been living all this time, that
+you have never heard of 'Evelina '?” cried he.
+
+“I have heard of little else save this 'Evelina' for some time past;
+but I have no time for reading novels, nor has any member of my family,”
+ replied the lady.
+
+“I insisted on one member of your family finding the time yesterday
+and to-day, and the consequence is that she has gone through the first
+volume and part of the second since Susy was so obliging as to send
+them hither. I was in hopes that you had brought the third volume; but I
+perceive that we shall have to wait for it now.”
+
+Susy was examining very closely the pattern on her plate when Mrs.
+Burney turned to her, saying:
+
+“Does Mr. Crisp mean that you got that novel and sent it hither to
+Fanny?”
+
+“Only part of it--no more than two volumes,” said Susy quickly, as
+though anxious to submit extenuating circumstances to the notice of her
+stepmother.
+
+“Did you get it at Hill's library, or where?” inquired Mrs. Burney.
+
+“I did not get it at a library,” replied Susy slowly, as a reluctant
+witness might answer an incriminating question.
+
+“What, did you buy it? Did you spend your money on it?” cried Mrs.
+Burney, with a note of amazement not free from anxiety.
+
+“Oh, no; I did not buy it,” said Susy.
+
+“How did it come into your hands, then--tell me that?”
+
+“Cousin Edward brought it for Fanny.”
+
+“And you read the first two volumes and are now reading the third?”
+
+“Nay, mamma, 'tis I that was led by my curiosity,” said Lottie hastily.
+
+“Though you have often heard me protest against the vice of novel
+reading? I wonder at you, Lottie. I am shocked that you should so yield
+to a vulgar temptation,” said Mrs. Burney.
+
+“Nay, my dear madam, you must not talk of our dear 'Evelina' as if she
+were an everyday person,” said Mr. Crisp. “On the contrary, she is a
+most interesting young lady, and if I do not soon learn what happens
+to her now that she has formed some very dubious intimacies, I shall be
+inconsolable. Have you read the book, Mrs. Burney?”
+
+“Not I indeed,” replied Mrs. Burney, with more than a suggestion of
+indignation that such a charge should be brought against her. “I have
+heard enough about that book during the past month to prevent me from
+having any wish to read it, even if I were a novel reader, which I
+certainly deny. I am ashamed that any member of my household should so
+far forget her duty as to read such stuff.”
+
+“Come, come, my dear lady, you must remember that there are novels and
+novels,” said Mr. Crisp. “I have heard you praise Mr. Richardson, have I
+not?”
+
+“Mr. Richardson was a genius and a great moral writer, sir, as well.”
+
+“The two are not invariably associated. But what if I tell you that
+this new book is worthy of being placed between 'Clarissa Harlowe' and
+'Pamela'?”
+
+“You will not do so gross an injustice to the memory of a great man, I
+am sure. But, if you please, we will discuss this no longer. No matter
+what this 'Evelina' may be, the fact remains that I gave a command that
+our home should be free from the taint of novel reading, and my wishes
+have been secretly ignored. I should not wonder if Fanny had encouraged
+Edward to procure the book for her.”
+
+“I cannot deny it,” said Fanny in a low voice. “'Twas my doing
+altogether. All the blame should rest on my shoulders--yes, from the
+first--the very first--from the title page on to 'Finis.'”
+
+“And your delinquency has given me greater pleasure than I have derived
+from other people's rectitude,” said Mr. Crisp. Then he turned to Mrs.
+Burney.
+
+“Dear madam, you must forgive our Fannikin for her misdemeanour. If
+you had but read the book for yourself you would feel as I do on the
+subject. 'Tis the most fascinating story----”
+
+“That is, I hold, the worst of the matter,” said Mrs. Burney. “The more
+fascinating the novel, the more dangerous it is, and the greater reason
+there is why it should be excluded from every honest home. A dull story
+may do but little harm. One might reasonably tolerate it even among a
+household of young girls, but a clever one--a fascinating one, as you
+call this 'Evelina,' should never be allowed to cross the threshold.
+But, by your leave, sir, we will talk no more upon a question on which I
+know we shall never agree.”
+
+“That is the most satisfactory proposal that could be made,” said Mr.
+Crisp, bowing. “I will only add that since you are so fully sensible
+of the danger of a delightful book in your house, you will take prompt
+measures to prevent the baleful influence of 'Evelina' from pervading
+your home, by despatching the third volume to me without delay. The
+third volume of such a novel may in truth be likened to the match in
+the barrel of gunpowder: 'tis the most dangerous part of the whole. The
+first two volumes are like the gunpowder--comparatively innocent, but
+the moment the third volume is attached--phew! So you would do well
+not to delay in getting rid of such an inflammatory composition, Mrs.
+Burney.”
+
+“I promise you that you shall have it at once, sir,” said Mrs. Burney.
+“And I trust that you will not allow the first and second to return to
+my house. A barrel of gunpowder may be as innocent as you say, so long
+as the match is withheld, but still I have no intention of turning our
+home into a powder magazine.”
+
+That was the last reference made to “Evelina” while Mrs. Burney and the
+two girls remained at Chessington. They went away so as to be back
+in St. Martin's Street in time for dinner; but the moment they
+were together in the chaise Mrs. Burney burst out once more in her
+denunciation of the vice of novel reading. From her general treatment
+of the theme she proceeded--as the girls feared she would--to the
+particular instance of its practice which had just come under her
+notice. She administered to poor Susy a sound scolding for having
+received the book from her cousin Edward in secret, and another to poor
+Lottie for having ventured to read it without asking leave. The girls
+were soon reduced to tears, but not a word did they say in reply. They
+were loyal to their sister and her secret with which they had been
+entrusted. Not a word did either of them utter.
+
+The drive home on that lovely afternoon was a dreary one, especially
+after Mrs. Burney had said:
+
+“I fear that this duplicity has been going on for a long time in our
+house. Yes, I have noticed more than once an exchange of meaning glances
+between you and Fanny, and sometimes, too, when your cousin Edward was
+in the room. It seemed to me that you had some secret in common which
+you were determined to keep from me. I said nothing at that time, for
+though my suspicions were awakened, yet I thought it best to take the
+most favourable view of the matter, and I assumed that the secret--if
+there was a secret--was an innocent one--such as girls in a family may
+share among themselves about some trifling thing; but now I have no
+doubt that your glances and your winks and your elbowings had to do with
+the smuggling of books into the house for your surreptitious reading. I
+am ashamed of you. It hurts me deeply to find that, after all the care I
+have taken to preserve you in innocence of the world and its wickedness,
+you have been behaving with such duplicity. I shall, of course, think
+it my duty to let your father know what I have found out, and he may be
+able to suggest some means of preventing a repetition of such conduct.”
+
+The poor girls dared not even look at each other for mutual sympathy,
+lest such glances should be interpreted by their mother as a further
+attempt to pursue the scheme of duplicity with which she had charged
+them. They could only sit tearful and silent until they were once again
+in St. Martin's Street. They longed to rush upstairs together to their
+room and mingle their tears in a sisterly embrace before determining
+how they should meet their stepmother's charges in the presence of their
+father.
+
+But Mrs. Burney was too astute a strategist to permit them to consult
+together.
+
+“Is your master within?” she inquired of William, the man-servant, who
+opened the door for them.
+
+“He is in the library, madam, with Mrs. Esther,” replied the man.
+
+“So much the better,” said Mrs. Burney to the girls. “We shall go
+directly to him, and your sister Esther will be present.”
+
+She made them precede her to the room that was called the library. Dr.
+Burney and Hetty were laughing together across the table--the sound of
+their merriment had been heard by the girls before the door was opened.
+But at the portentous gravity of the entrance of Mrs. Burney her husband
+became grave.
+
+“You have returned early,” he said, “and--good heavens! you have been
+weeping--you do not bring bad news--Fanny has not had a relapse?”
+
+“Fanny is quite well; but I bring you bad news,” replied Mrs. Burney.
+“You will, I am sure, regard it as the worst possible news when I tell
+you that she, as well as her sisters here, have been guilty of the
+grossest disobedience--a conspiracy of disobedience, I may call it.”
+
+“I am amazed--and grieved,” said he. “But I can scarcely believe that,
+brought up as they have been----”
+
+“They do not deny it,” said she. “I only discovered by chance that, in
+defiance of our rule against novel reading, they been have trafficking
+with their cousin Edward to procure novels for their secret reading, and
+the latest they smuggled into the house is that one called 'Evelina'--I
+actually found Fanny reading the book to Mr. Crisp, and her sisters
+admitted----”
+
+“But what did Fanny admit?” he cried.
+
+“She admitted that Edward had procured the book at her request,” replied
+his wife. “Was not that enough?”
+
+“Not half enough--not a quarter enough, considering that it was Fanny
+who wrote 'Evelina' with her own hand and under our very noses without
+our suspecting it,” said Dr. Burney quietly.
+
+Mrs. Burney looked at him dumbly for more than a whole minute. There was
+silence in the room.
+
+Then she sat slowly down on the nearest chair, still keeping her eyes
+fixed upon him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII
+
+|DOCTOR BURNEY sat for a long time staring at a point high above his
+wife's head. The eldest daughter, Hetty, standing at the other side of
+the writing-table, was radiant; her eyes were dancing. The two others
+were standing together--huddled together, it might be said, for they
+suggested a pair of lambs recently frightened--doubtful of what is going
+to happen next and feeling that the closer they are to each other the
+safer they will be.
+
+“Did you ever hear of anything so funny?” said Hetty, glancing around
+and still radiant.
+
+Her father got upon his feet.
+
+“And she was the only one that never had any attention,” said he, as if
+he had not heard Hetty's remark. “Fanny was left to make her own way as
+pleased her best--no one troubled about her education. She was left
+to pick up knowledge as best she could--the crumbs that fell from the
+others' table--that was how she picked up French when the others came
+back from school, and now she speaks it with the best of them... And
+so shy! Tell me, if you can, how she got her knowledge of things--the
+things in that book--the pictures red with life--the real life-blood of
+men and women--love--emotion--pathos--all that make up life--and don't
+forget the characterization--that's what seems to me all but miraculous.
+Hogarth--we all know that Hogarth drew his characters and fitted them
+into his pictures because he made it a point to walk among them and look
+at them with observant eyes; but tell me, if you can, what chance that
+child had of seeing anything; and yet she has filled her canvas, and
+every bit is made up of firm, true drawing. That is the chief wonder.”
+
+He spoke evidently under the impulse of a great excitement at first, not
+looking at anyone in particular--just skimming them all with his eyes
+as he paced the room. But he seemed gradually to recover himself as
+he talked, and he appeared to address his last words to his wife. This
+assisted her to recover herself also--a minute or so in advance of him.
+
+“You seem to be sure that Fanny wrote it,” she said, when he had done.
+“Is it fair to condemn her before you make sure?”
+
+Everyone looked at Mrs. Burney; but only her husband laughed.
+
+“Condemn her--condemn her for having written the finest novel since
+Fielding?” he said, with the laugh still on his face. There was no laugh
+on hers; on the contrary, its expression was more serious than ever.
+
+“A novel is a novel,” she said. “I told Mr. Crisp--but that was
+only about the reading of novels--the cleverer they are the more
+mischievous--dangerous--even the reading--I never dreamt of her going
+so far as to write one, clever or otherwise. But a novel is still a
+novel--she must have neglected her duties in the house, though I failed
+to observe it... and sending it to a bookseller without saying a word to
+us! Who would have believed that a young woman with her training--”
+
+“It flashed across me when I read the verses addressed to myself at the
+beginning that she had asked my permission some months ago, and that
+I had given it--I did so laughing at the poor child's credulousness in
+believing that any bookseller would print it for her and pay her for the
+privilege--the privilege of making a thousand pounds out of her book.”
+
+“What! are you serious?--a thousand pounds, did you say?”
+
+“Mr. Lowndes will make more than a thousand pounds by the sale of the
+book--Hetty tells me that he only paid Fanny twenty for it.”
+
+“What is the world coming to--a fortune in a single book! And we talked
+about her being portionless, when all the time she was more richly
+endowed than all the rest of the family; for if she has written one
+book, she can certainly write another equally remunerative. 'Perhaps she
+has another ready for the printers.”
+
+Mrs. Burney was blessed with the capacity to look at matters,
+however artistic they might be, from the standpoint of the practical
+housekeeper. The mention of so sonorous a sum as a thousand pounds
+caused the scales of prejudice to fall from the eyes through which she
+had regarded the act of authorship, and at that instant she perceived
+that it should not be thought of as a delinquency but as a merit.
+
+And, after all, it appeared that the girl had obtained the permission of
+her father to print it--that put quite a different complexion upon the
+transaction, did it not?
+
+And a thousand pounds--that appealed to the good sense of a practical
+person and swept away the last cobweb of prejudice that she had had
+respecting novels and their writers.
+
+“Has she another book written, think you?” she inquired in a tone full
+of interest. “Of course we shall see that she gets a better share of Mr.
+Lowndes' thousand pounds than she did for her first.”
+
+“She has not written a line since 'Evelina,'” said Esther. “To be sure,
+I have not been her _confidante_ since I got married, but I know that
+she was so frightened at the thought of what she had done that she would
+not write another page.”
+
+“Frightened! What had she to be frightened about?” cried Mrs. Burney in
+a tone of actual amazement.
+
+“Goodness knows,” said Esther with a laugh.
+
+The sound of the dinner-bell coming at that moment had about it also
+something of the quality of a long, loud, sonorous outburst of laughter
+with a cynical tinkle at the last.
+
+The group in that room dissolved in all directions with exclamations of
+dismay at being overtaken by the dinner-hour so unprepared.
+
+“It is all over now,” said Susy to Lottie, when they were alone in their
+room. “I was afraid when she ushered us so formally into the library
+that we would be forced to tell our secret.”
+
+“I made up my mind that no torture of the rack or wild horses would
+unseal my lips,” said Susy, earnestly. “Do you know, Lottie, I feel
+quite lonely without our secret.”
+
+“It is just the same with me, dear,” said Lottie. “I feel as if I were
+suddenly cut off from some great interest in life--as if I had gone
+downstairs one morning and found that someone had stolen the piano. I
+wonder if it was Hetty who told the padre.”
+
+“Make haste and we shall soon learn all,” said Susy.
+
+Before they had finished dinner they learned from their father how he
+had got to the bottom of the secret that they had so cherished.
+
+He had gone as usual to give a music lesson to Queenie Thrale, and when
+partaking of some refreshment before setting out for London, Mrs. Thrale
+had talked to him in terms of the highest praise of “Evelina.” She had
+read the book twice over, she told him, and had lent it to Dr. Johnson,
+who could talk of nothing else. Then Mrs. Cholmondeley had arrived on a
+visit to Thrale Hall, and she, too, was full of praise of the book. She,
+too, had lent her copy to someone else--to no less important a person
+than Mr. Edmund Burke, and he had declared himself as greatly captivated
+by it as his friend Sir Joshua Reynolds had been. Everybody was
+talking about it, and the question of the authorship had been as widely
+discussed as before; Mrs. Cholmondeley had declared that she would give
+twenty guineas to find out for certain who it was that had written the
+book.
+
+Mrs. Thrale had thereupon suggested that Dr. Burney was in a better
+position than most people for solving the mystery, going about as he was
+from one part of the town to another and being in close touch with all
+manner of people.
+
+“But I had not, as you know, so much as read the book for myself--I
+seemed to be the only one in town who had not done so--and on getting
+home I sent William post haste to Mr. Lowndes to purchase a set. This
+done, I sat down to peruse the first volume. The page opened on the Ode;
+it lay beneath my eyes, and I tell you truly that I did not seem to read
+it: I seemed to hear Fanny's voice reading the verses in my ear, and
+the truth came upon me in a flash--incredible though it appeared, I knew
+that it was she who had written the book. Hetty came in before my eyes
+were dry--she saw the volume in my hand, and she understood all. 'You
+know,' was all that she said. I think that the greatest marvel was the
+keeping of the secret of the book! To think of its being known to four
+girls and never becoming too great for them to bear!”
+
+He was appealing to his wife, but she only nodded a cold acquiescence in
+his surprise. She remained silent, however, and this was something to be
+grateful for, the girls thought: they knew just what she was thinking,
+and they also knew that if they had some little trouble in keeping their
+secret, she had very much more in restraining herself from uttering some
+comment upon their reticence--their culpable reticence, she would
+think it. They could see that she was greatly displeased at having been
+excluded from their secret, since such an exclusion had forced her into
+a false position more than once--notably in the presence of Mr. Crisp,
+when she had become the assailant of novels and novel reading generally,
+and also when she had scolded them on their return in the chaise. But
+they were good girls, and they were ready to allow that they were in the
+wrong, even though they did not think so: that is what really good girls
+do in their desire for peace in their homes. And Lottie and Susy made
+up their minds that should their stepmother tax them with double-dealing
+and deceit, they would not try to defend themselves. The reflection that
+they had kept their sister's secret would more than compensate them for
+any possible humiliation they might suffer at Mrs. Burney's hands.
+
+All that Mrs. Burney said at the conclusion of her husband's further
+rhapsody about the marvel of Fanny's achievement, considering how she
+had been generally thought the dunce of the family, was comprised in a
+few phrases uttered in a hurt tone:
+
+“While no one is more pleased than myself to witness her success, I
+cannot but feel that she would have shown herself possessed of a higher
+sense of her duty as a daughter if she had consulted her father or his
+wife in the matter,” she said.
+
+“That may be true enough,” said Dr. Burney; “but if she had done so,
+would she have achieved her purpose any more fully than she has, I ask
+you? No, my dear, I do not feel, with any measure of certainty, that I
+would have gone far in my encouragement of her efforts, nor do I think
+that you would have felt it consistent with your principles to do so.”
+
+“I was only referring to the question of a simple girl's duty in regard
+to her parents,” said Mrs. Burney.
+
+“And your judgment on that point is, I am certain, unassailable,” said
+he. “But here we have a girl who is no simple girl, but a genius; and
+I think that a good deal of latitude should be allowed to a genius--a
+little departure from the hard and fast line of the duties expected from
+a simple girl may be permitted in such a one as Fanny.”
+
+“Well, she has succeeded in her aims--so much is plain,” said Mrs.
+Burney. “But I hope that should any of her sisters set about a similar
+enterprise----”
+
+But the ringing laughter that came from the sisters, their father
+joining in with great heartiness, saved the need for her to complete
+her sentence. At first she felt hurt, but she quickly yielded to the
+exuberant spirit that pervaded the atmosphere of the room, and smiled
+indulgently, after the manner of a staid elderly lady who is compelled
+to take part in the romp of her girls and boys at Christmas time.
+
+She continued smiling, and the others continued laughing, and this
+spirit of good humour was maintained until bedtime.
+
+The girls knew that they would not be scolded for their participation
+in Fanny's secret; for Fanny by her success had justified any amount of
+double-dealing. If Fanny had made a fool of herself they would feel
+that they deserved to participate in her scolding; but success is easily
+pardoned, and so they rightly counted upon a general amnesty. What was
+it that their father had said about a thousand pounds?
+
+They went to bed quite happy, in spite of being deprived of the fearful
+joy of having a secret to keep.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII
+
+|DR. BURNEY had given instructions that Fanny was not to be communicated
+with at Chessington until he had seen her; but that the third volume
+of the book was to be sent to Mr. Crisp without delay. He was to go to
+Streatham again in two days' time, and thence to Chessington, where he
+would make Mr. Crisp aware of the identity of the writer of “Evelina.”
+
+He anticipated an interesting hour with Mr. Crisp, but a very much more
+interesting half-hour with Mrs. Thrale; for he meant, of course, to lose
+no time in letting that lady into the secret: he knew that she would
+make the most of the information he could impart to her; to be the first
+to learn what all her friends were striving to learn would at once place
+her above Mrs. Cholmondeley, who was willing to pay twenty guineas for
+the knowledge, and even Mrs. Montagu, who was inclined to patronize
+Mrs. Thrale and a good many other ladies, in spite of the fact that Dr.
+Johnson dined usually five days out of every week with Mrs. Thrale,
+but had only dined once with Mrs. Montagu since she had gone to her new
+house.
+
+Dr. Burney was well aware how valuable the Thrale connection was to him;
+a teacher of music is apt to look with sparkling eyes at a houseful of
+girls whose father possesses the possibilities of such wealth as was
+defined by Dr. Johnson in this particular case as beyond the dreams
+of avarice. Dr. Burney had a very nice judgment on the subject of an
+influential connection, and so was delighted to have a chance of doing
+a signal good turn to so deserving a patroness as Mrs. Thrale. Yes,
+he felt sure that his half-hour at Streatham Hall would be the
+most interesting of the many half-hours he had spent under the same
+hospitable roof.
+
+And he was not mistaken in his surmise.
+
+Mrs. Thrale had, as usual, several friends coming to partake of an early
+repast with her; and Dr. Burney had pictured to himself the effect of
+his announcement to the company that his daughter had written the book
+upon which he was pretty sure the conversation would turn--indeed, he
+felt that he would be greatly surprised if the conversation did not
+immediately rush to the question of “Evelina” and remain there for the
+rest of the afternoon; for the enterprising ladies would doubtless
+bring with them some fresh suggestions or new cues to its authorship.
+He pictured himself allowing them to go on for some time until perhaps a
+statement would be made which he should have to contradict point-blank.
+They would all look at him in surprise. What did he know about the
+matter? Was he interested in the question? Had he found out anything?
+
+How he would smile while saying quietly:
+
+“Well, I am more or less interested in the matter, the fact being that
+'Evelina' is the work of my daughter, Fanny Burney!”
+
+That would be, he thought, a fitting moment in which to divulge the
+secret; he saw the whole scene clearly before him.
+
+But before he had reached his destination that intuition of what would
+commend itself to a patron which had been so important an auxiliary to
+his ability in placing him above his rivals in his profession, overcame
+his desire to play the most important part in a dramatic scene; he
+perceived that such a rôle should be taken by an influential patroness,
+and not by himself. Thus it was that when Mrs. Thrale was giving him a
+cup of chocolate after his journey he smiled, saying:
+
+“I was greatly interested in the conversation between Mrs. Cholmondeley
+and the other ladies when I was last here.”
+
+“About 'Evelina'?” she inquired. “Ah, I wonder if Mrs. Cholmondeley has
+yet paid over her twenty guineas to the discoverer of the author. It
+seems that he has as arduous a task in regard to 'Evelina' as Raleigh
+had in regard to his El Dorado.”
+
+“So it would appear,” said Dr. Burney. “Let us hope that his efforts
+will be more highly valued than those of poor Sir Walter. Have you
+yourself no suspicions on the subject, madam?”
+
+“Oh, suspicions? There have been as many suspicions set going on this
+subject within the month as would be entertained only by the most
+imaginative Bow Street runner. For my own part, I maintain that the book
+could only have been writ by our friend Horace Walpole. He found that
+his 'Otranto' excited so much curiosity when published without a name,
+he came to the conclusion that he would produce another novel with
+the same amount of mystery attached to it. The only point against this
+assumption is that----”
+
+“That the book was assuredly written by another person,” said Burney,
+smiling in a way that he designed to be somewhat enigmatical.
+
+Mrs. Thrale tried to interpret his smile.
+
+“What!” she exclaimed, “you have formed another theory--you--you have
+heard something since you were last here?”
+
+“Not something, madam--not a mere something, but everything--everything
+that is to be known regarding the writer of that book.”
+
+“Is't possible? Who is your informant?--the value of all that you have
+heard is dependent upon the accuracy of your informant.”
+
+“The book was written by the person whom I fancied I knew best of all
+the people in the world, and yet the last person whom I would believe
+capable of such a feat. The author of the book--I am the author of her
+being--she is none other than my daughter Fanny.”
+
+Mrs. Thrale sat staring at him, one arm resting upon the table, her lips
+parted as if about to utter an exclamation of surprise, but unable to do
+so by reason of her surprise.
+
+More than a minute had passed before she was able to speak, and then she
+could do no more than repeat his words.
+
+“Your daughter Fanny--your daughter--but is not Fanny the little shy
+one that goes into a corner when you have company?” she asked, in a
+tone that suggested that she had heard something too ridiculous to be
+believed.
+
+“She is that one, madam,” he replied. “It would seem as if the corner
+of a room has its advantages in enabling one to observe life from a
+true standpoint. Two eyes looking out from a corner with a brain behind
+them--there you have the true writer of a novel of life and character.
+Poor Fanny! How often have not I talked of her as 'poor Fanny'? She had
+no education except what she contrived to pick up haphazard--a sweet
+child--a lovable daughter, but the last person in the world to be
+suspected of such a book as 'Evelina.'”
+
+“You are sure, sir--you have seen--heard--you know?”
+
+“Beyond any doubt. Her sisters were let into the secret, but neither
+of her parents. I know now why that was--no want of duty--no lack of
+respect--she began the book for her own amusement, and it grew under
+her hand; she sent it to a bookseller, more as a jest than in the belief
+that anything would come of it, and up to the last it was treated by
+her and her sisters as a schoolroom mystery--a nursery secret--and
+Mrs. Burney and I were kept out of it solely because we were not of the
+nursery or the schoolroom. And when it became a serious matter we were
+excluded because they were afraid to reveal it to us--Fanny herself,
+dear child!--feared that we would be concerned if it were stillborn. It
+was only when it was at the point of being published by Mr. Lowndes that
+she came to me saying that she had been writing something and wanted
+my leave to send it forth, promising that no name would appear upon the
+title page. I gave my leave with a smile, and when I had my laugh at the
+innocence of the girl in fancying that any bookseller would pay for the
+printing of what she might scribble, I forgot all about the matter. It
+was only when I sent for the book and read the Ode addressed to myself
+that I seemed to hear Fanny's voice speaking the words in my ear--I told
+the others so when they returned from visiting her at Chessington. But
+meantime Esther had come to me, and she told me all that was known to
+her about the book and its secret.”
+
+“The most wonderful story ever known--more wonderful than the story of
+Evelina herself!” cried Mrs. Thrale. “How people--Mrs. Cholmondeley and
+the rest--will lift up their hands! Who among them will believe it all
+possible? List, my dear doctor, you must bring her to me in the first
+instance--all the others will be clamouring for her to visit them--I
+know them! You must bring her to me without delay--why not to-day? I can
+easily send a chaise for her--a coach if necessary. Well, if not to-day,
+to-morrow. I must have her here. We will understand each other--she and
+I; and Dr. Johnson will be with us--quite a little company--for dinner.
+You will promise me?”
+
+“Be assured, dear madam, that there is no house apart from her home
+where I feel she would be happier than in this,” said Dr. Burney. “She
+has often expressed the warmest admiration for you, and I know that her
+dearest wish is to be on terms of intimacy with you.”
+
+“The sweet girl! she shall have her dearest wish gratified to the
+fullest extent, sir. You will bring her as early to-morrow as it suits
+you. Good heavens! to think of that dear retiring child taking the town
+by storm! Dr. Johnson wrote to me no later than last evening, expressing
+once more his delight in reading the book, and Mr. Burke, too--but you
+heard about Mr. Burke. I will never forget your courtesy in telling me
+first of all your friends that she was the author, dear doctor.”
+
+“If not you, madam, whom would I have told?”
+
+“I shall be ever grateful. You will give me leave to make the revelation
+to my friends who will be here to-day?”
+
+“It is open for you to tell them all that I have told you, my dear
+madam; and you may truthfully add that if the writing of the book will
+bring her into closer intimacy with Mrs. Thrale, the author will feel
+that it has not been written in vain.”
+
+He made his lowest bow on rising from the table to receive his pupil,
+who entered the room at that moment.
+
+He had confidence that he was right in his intuition that his patroness
+would act with good effect the rôle which he had relinquished in
+her favour, when her friends would arrive in another hour for their
+“collation;” and he was ready to allow that none could have played the
+part more neatly than she did when the time came to prove how much
+better-informed she was than the rest of the world. She might have been
+possessed of the knowledge that Miss Burney was the writer of “Evelina”
+ from the first, from the easy and natural way in which she said:
+
+“Pray do not trouble yourselves telling me what Mrs. Cholmondeley said
+to Mr. Lowndes, or what Mr. Lowndes said to someone else about the
+writer of the novel; for it happens that I know, and have known for--for
+some time the name of the author.”
+
+There were a few little exclamations of surprise, and a very pretty
+uplifting of several pairs of jewelled hands at this calm announcement.
+
+“Oh, yes,” she continued, “the writer is a friend of my own, and the
+daughter of one of my most valued friends, and if any people talk to you
+in future of 'Evelina' being the work of Mr. Walpole or Mr. Anstey or
+any man of letters, pay no attention to these astute investigators, but
+tell them that I said the book is the work of Miss Fanny Burney, one of
+the daughters of the celebrated Dr. Charles Burney, himself the author
+of a 'History of Music' that will live so long as the English language
+has a literature of its own.”
+
+Mrs. Thrale did it all with amazing neatness, Dr. Burney thought; and
+the attempt that she made to conceal the expression of triumph in the
+glance that she gave to her guests let him know that his tact had been
+exercised in the right direction. Mrs. Thrale was not the woman to
+forget that he had given her such a chance of proving to her friends how
+intimate was her association with the literary history of the day. She
+had been for several years the patroness of Dr. Johnson, who had written
+the best dictionary, and now she was about to take under her protection
+Miss Burney, who had written the best novel. He knew that Mrs. Thrale
+was almost as glad to be able to reveal the secret of “Evelina” as if
+she had written the book herself.
+
+And everyone else at the table felt that Mrs. Thrale was indeed an
+amazingly clever woman; and wondered how Mrs. Cholmondeley would feel
+when she had learned that she had been forestalled in her quest after
+the information on which she had placed a value of twenty guineas.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV
+
+|IT had all come to her now. She had had her dreams from time to time
+when working at her novel--dreams of recognition--of being received on
+terms of equality by some of the lesser literary people who had visited
+the house in St. Martin's Street, and had gone away praising the musical
+talents of her sisters, but leaving her unnoticed. Her aspirations had
+been humble, but it seemed to her so stupid to be stupid in the midst of
+a brilliant household, that she longed to be able to do something that
+would, at least, cause their visitors of distinction to glance into her
+corner and recognize her name when it was spoken in their hearing.
+That was all she longed for at first--to be recognized as “the one who
+writes,” as people recognized “the one who plays.” But since Signor
+Rauzzini had come upon the scene her ambitions had widened. She dreamt
+not merely of recognition, but of distinction, so that he might be proud
+of her, and that she might not merely be spoken of as the wife of the
+Roman singer. That dream of hers had invariably been followed by a
+feeling of depression as she reflected upon the improbability of its
+ever being realized, and if it should not be realized, all hope of
+happiness would pass from her life. Thus it was that for some months she
+had lived with the cold finger of despair constantly pressing upon her
+heart. She was so practical--so reasonable--that she could never yield
+herself up to the fascination of the Fool's Paradise of dreams; she was
+ready to estimate her chances of literary success, and the result of
+the operation was depressing. How could any young woman who had seen so
+little of life, and who had been so imperfectly educated, have any hope
+to be received as a writer of distinction? What claim to distinction
+could such a girl as she advance in the face of the competition that was
+going on around her in every branch of distinctive work?
+
+For some months her good sense and her clear head were her greatest
+enemies; evermore bringing her back to the logic of a life in which
+everything is represented by figures, from a great artistic success to
+a butcher's bill--a life in which dreams play a part of no greater
+significance than the splendid colours clinging about the West in the
+unalterable routine of the setting sun.
+
+Many times she had awakened in the night to weep as she felt the
+bitterness of defeat; for her book had been given to the world and the
+world had received it as the sea receives a stone that is flung upon its
+surface. That simile of the stone and the sea was constantly recurring
+to her, and every time she saw that it was weak--that it fell short of
+meeting her case, for her book had made no stir whatsoever in the world,
+whereas a stone, however small it might be, could not be given to the
+sea without creating some stir on the surface of the waters.
+
+And then, quite unexpectedly, had come a whisper from the world to tell
+her that her book had not been submerged: the whisper had increased in
+volume until it had sounded in her ears like a shout of acclamation,
+telling her that the reality had far surpassed her most sanguine dreams,
+and that common-sense reasoning is sometimes farther astray in its
+operation than are the promptings of the most unreasonable ambition.
+
+These were her rose-tinted reflections while driving with her father
+from Chessington to Streatham, a journey which represented to her the
+passing from obscurity to distinction, the crossing of the Jordan and
+the entering into the Land of Promise.
+
+Fanny Burney has herself told the story of her father's coming to her
+at Chessington, and of her dear old friend's reception of the marvellous
+news that Dr. Burney brought to him--of the phrases which she
+overheard while the two men were in a room together--the incredulous
+exclamations--“Wonderful--it's wonderful!”--“Why, she has had very
+little education but what she has given herself--less than any of the
+others”--“The variety of characters--the variety of scenes, and the
+language”--“Wonderful!” And then Mr. Crisp's meeting her, catching her
+by the hands as she was going in to supper, and crying, “Why, you little
+hussy, ain't you ashamed to look me in the face you--you 'Evelina,' you!
+Why, what a dance you have led me about it!” Miss Burney has brought the
+scene vividly before our eyes in her Diary.
+
+It was one of the happiest days of her life; she saw the pride with
+which her father regarded her, for Dr. Burney was a practical man
+who valued achievement as it deserved, and was, besides, the best of
+fathers, and the most anxious to advance the interests of his children.
+He looked with pride upon his daughter, and talked of her having made
+Mr. Lowndes a wealthy man. His estimate of her earning powers had
+increased: he now declared that even if Lowndes had paid a thousand
+pounds for the book, his profits off it would enable him to buy an
+estate!
+
+It was the happiest evening of her life; and now she was in the chaise
+with her beloved father, driving to Streatham, where they were to
+dine, and Dr. Johnson was to be of the party. This meant more than
+recognition, it meant the Land of Promise of her ambitious dreams.
+
+She had many matters to reflect upon at this time, but all her
+reflections led to the one point--her next meeting with Rauzzini. The
+truth that had been revealed to her among Sir Joshua Reynolds' superb
+canvases, that love was more than all else that the world could give
+her, remained before her, as a luminous fixed star, to be a guide to her
+life; and the happiness that she now felt was due to the thought that
+she could go to the man whom she loved, without a misgiving, without
+fearing that he would hear those dreaded voices of the world saying that
+he had been a fool to ally himself with a nonentity, or that she would
+hear the whispers of those who might suggest that she had done very well
+for herself. She had long before made her resolution only to go to him
+when she could do so on terms of equality. At that time her resolution
+seemed to shut her out from all chances of happiness; she knew this, but
+at the same time she believed that it would shut both of them out from
+every chance of unhappiness; and so she had allowed it to dominate her
+life.
+
+That was where her common-sense and her reasonableness had their way,
+prevailing over that blind impulse which she now and again had, to trust
+to chance--and love--to overcome every other consideration, and to give
+her lover and herself happiness solely by being together. It was such
+impulses as this that caused love to be referred to as blind. But she
+was now ready to thank heaven for having given her strength to overcome
+it and so to give the victory to reason and good sense.
+
+She made up her mind to write to him before she slept that very night,
+telling him what her resolution had been--he had called it a mystery,
+not knowing anything about it--and asking him to rejoice with her that
+she had been able to maintain it, so that the barrier which she had seen
+between them was now swept away.
+
+“Come to me--come to me”--that would be the burden of her letter to him;
+she would send it to him and he would come.
+
+The thought made her lean back among the cushions of the chaise and shut
+her eyes, the better to enclose the vision of happiness that came from
+her heart. He would come to her and her happiness would be complete.
+
+So she arrived with her father at Thrale Hall and was welcomed by Mrs.
+Thrale in the porch. When she had made her toilet for dinner she was
+shown into the drawing-room. As she entered, she was conscious of the
+presence of several men, and the one nearest to her was, she saw, Signor
+Rauzzini.
+
+All the men in the room were looking toward her except Rauzzini. He was
+standing by the side of a small table, presenting his profile to her,
+and his eyes were gazing across the room at a picture that hung between
+the windows, a frown on his face.
+
+She was startled, and the blood rushed to her cheeks. It would have done
+so on her entering the room, even if she had not been surprised to see
+her lover there when she believed him to be still in France.
+
+She had stopped before reaching the middle of the room, and then she
+was hidden from the view of everybody by a huge mass of manhood in the
+person of Dr. Johnson. He seemed inclined to embrace her; and as he
+swung himself close to her, there was no one in the room that had not a
+moment of trepidation lest he should fall over her and crush her flat.
+
+Mrs. Thrale tripped alongside Fanny, as if ready to die with her.
+
+“Oh, come, Dr. Johnson,” she cried. “I have no intention of allowing
+you to monopolize Miss Burney, for that I perceive is your desire. The
+gentlemen must be presented to her in proper form.”
+
+“Madam,” said he, “I understood clearly that Miss Burney was coming
+hither for myself alone, and I have no mind to share so precious a
+morsel with others. Miss Burney and I are old friends, give me leave to
+say; I have more than once been interested in a book in the room where
+she was sitting in her father's house. Come to my arms, Miss Burney, and
+we shall laugh together at the jealous glances the others cast at me.”
+
+“Miss Burney will sit beside you at dinner, sir, and that must suffice
+you for the present,” said Mrs. Thrale, taking Fanny by the hand.
+
+But Johnson had succeeded, after more than one ineffectual attempt, in
+grasping Miss Burney's left hand, and in his ponderous playfulness, he
+refused to relinquish it, so that she had to make her curtsies to the
+gentlemen with Mrs. Thrale on one side of her and Johnson on the other.
+There was Mr. Seward and Sir Joshua Reynolds, and two others besides
+Signor Rauzzini. Each of them had a compliment to offer her, and did so
+very pleasantly and with great tact.
+
+“Now that is done, Miss Burney and I can sit together on the sofa, and
+she will tell me why she loves the Scotch and I will scold her for it,”
+ said Johnson complacently.
+
+“Nay, sir, Miss Burney has not yet greeted Signor Rauzzini,” said Mrs.
+Thrale. “You and Miss Burney are already acquainted, I know, Signor
+Rauzzini, though you did fancy that she was one of the musical girls of
+St. Martin's Street.”
+
+Rauzzini took a single step away from the table at which he had remained
+immovable, and bowed low, without speaking a word.
+
+Fanny responded. They were separated by at least three yards.
+
+“Dinner is on the table, sir,” announced a servant from the door.
+
+“I am not sorry,” said Johnson. “Mrs. Thrale gave me a solemn promise
+that Miss Burney should sit next to me. That was why I kept my eye on
+Miss Burney.”
+
+“And hand too, sir,” remarked Mr. Seward.
+
+“Why, yes, sir, and hand too, if you insist,” said Johnson. “And let me
+tell you, sir, that a Lichfield man will keep his hand on anything he
+wishes to retain when another Lichfield man is in the same room.”
+
+His laughter set the ornaments on the mantelpiece a-jingling.
+
+And they went in to dinner before the echoes had died away.
+
+Mrs. Thrale kept her promise, and Fanny was placed next to Johnson. But
+even then he did not let go her hand. He held it in one of his own and
+patted it gently with the other. Fanny glanced down the table and saw
+that the eyes of the young Roman were looking in her direction, and that
+they were flaming. What could he mean, she wondered. She had been at
+first amazed at his bearing toward her in the drawing-room; but after
+a moment's thought, she had supposed that he had assumed that distant
+manner to prevent anyone from suspecting the intimacy there was between
+them. But what could that angry look in his eyes portend? Was it
+possible that he could be jealous of Dr. Johnson's awkward attention to
+her?
+
+She was greatly troubled.
+
+But if he had, indeed, resented Johnson's attention to her, such a plea
+was no longer valid after the first dish had been served, for in an
+instant Johnson's attention was transferred, with increased force, to
+the plate before him, and during the solid part of the meal, at least,
+it was never turned in any other direction. Poor Fanny had never seen
+him eat, nor had she the same privilege in respect of Mr. Thrale. But
+she needed all the encouragement that her hostess could afford her to
+enable her to make even the most moderate meal while such distractions
+were in her immediate neighbourhood; and she came to the conclusion that
+she had been ridiculously fastidious over the prodigious tea and its
+service at Mr. Barlowe's in the Poultry.
+
+But Mrs. Thrale was as tactful and as chatty as ever, and Mr. Seward
+made pleasant conversation for her, sitting, as he did, on the other
+side from Johnson. When Johnson was eating, his fellow guests understood
+that their chance was come to express their views without a dread of
+being contradicted by him.
+
+But from the feebleness of her contribution to the chat of the table,
+Mrs. Thrale as well as Mr. Seward perceived that all they had been told
+about the timidity of little Miss Burney was even less than the truth.
+
+But for that matter, Signor Rauzzini, who had been placed between Mrs.
+Thrale and Dr. Burney, was found by both of them to be also singularly
+averse from joining in the conversation, whether in reply to Burney, who
+addressed him in Italian, or to his hostess, who spoke French to him.
+
+As Mrs. Thrale talked a good deal herself, however, she rose with an
+impression that there had been no especial lack of brilliancy at the
+table.
+
+She took Fanny away with her, her determination being that if she should
+fail to draw this shy young creature out of her shell, she would at any
+rate convince her that her hostess was deserving of the reputation
+which she enjoyed for learning, combined with vivacity, so that their
+companionship could not be otherwise than profitable after all.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV
+
+|IT was not yet six o'clock and the sun was not due to set for more than
+another hour. The evening was a lovely one. From the shrubberies around
+the house came the liquid notes of countless blackbirds and thrushes,
+and above the trees of the park the cawing of the rooks as they wheeled
+above their nests and settled upon the branches.
+
+“We shall sit on the terrace for half an hour, if you have a mind
+to,” said Mrs. Thrale, taking Fanny through the drawing-room into a
+smaller room that opened upon a long terrace above the beds of the
+flower-garden. Here were several seats and a small table bearing writing
+materials.
+
+“Here I do most of my correspondence in the summer,” said Mrs. Thrale.
+“Sitting at that table in the open air, I have few distractions, unless
+I choose to accept the birds as such; and here I hope you will begin
+a new novel, or better still, a comedy that Mr. Sheridan will produce,
+with Mrs. Abington in her most charming gowns--you must give your
+namesake a chance of wearing a whole trunkful of gowns.” They seated
+themselves, and Mrs. Thrale continued:
+
+“Now I have confided in you how I do my simple work, and I wish to hear
+from you by what means you found time to write your novel. That is the
+greatest secret of all associated with 'Evelina'--so your father thinks.
+Mrs. Burney I always knew as a model housekeeper--a model manager of a
+family, and how you could contrive to write a single page without her
+knowledge is what baffles me as well as your father.”
+
+“To tell you all would, I fear, be to confess to a lifetime of
+duplicity,” said Fanny. “I am sometimes shocked now when I reflect upon
+my double-dealing.”
+
+“Tell me how you first came to stray from the paths of virtue--such a
+story is invariably interesting,” said Mrs. Thrale.
+
+“My story is like all the others,” replied Fanny. “I only meant to turn
+aside a little way, but soon I lost myself and I knew that there was no
+retracing my steps.”
+
+“Alas, alas, the old story!” said Mrs. Thrale, with a long-drawn sigh.
+“Well, happily, you were not able to retrace your steps.”
+
+“I had no idea that the story would grow upon me as it did,” said Fanny.
+“I really only meant it to be a diversion for our dear friend, Mr.
+Crisp, and an exercise for myself. I wrote a scrap now and again at odd
+moments--when I was supposed to be writing to Mr. Crisp, or copying out
+my father's notes for his History, at home as well as at Ches-sington,
+and when I was staying at Lynn; and so the thing grew and grew until I
+was afraid to look at what I had perpetrated.”
+
+“You are paraphrasing _Macbeth_, my dear: 'I am afeared to think what I
+have done: Look on't again I dare not,'” said the elder lady. “But with
+all you were able to prepare your father's great work for the press--he
+told me as much; so that what your double-dealing comes to is that you
+did his writing as well as your own, and at the same time neglected none
+of your ordinary household duties--if you had done so Mrs. Burney would
+have informed you of it, I have no doubt. An excellent housewife, Mrs.
+Burney! And now you shall tell me how you contrived to bring together so
+marvellous a group of characters--you who have lived so short a time in
+the world, and had so small an amount of experience.”
+
+“I should like someone to answer that question for me,” said Fanny. “It
+was not until I read the book in print that I began to be surprised at
+it, and to wonder how it came to be written and how those characters had
+found their way into it.”
+
+But this question was too interesting a one not to be pursued by Mrs.
+Thrale; and for half an hour she put inquiry after inquiry to Fanny
+respecting the characters, the incidents and the language of “Evelina.”
+ Mrs. Thrale was certainly determined to place herself in a position to
+prove to her friends that Miss Burney had made a _confidante_ of her in
+all matters, down to the smallest detail of the book.
+
+In ordinary circumstances Fanny would have been delighted to give
+her her confidence in regard to these particulars--she had always a
+childlike pleasure in talking about her books--but at this time she only
+did so with a great effort. For while Mrs. Thrale was plying her with
+questions about “Evelina,” there was ever before Fanny the unanswered
+question as to what Rauzzini meant by his coldness and formality both
+before dinner and during that meal. What did he mean by looking at her
+with that reproachful frown upon his face? What did he mean by averting
+his eyes from her when he had a chance of exchanging confidences with
+her, as he had often done before? What did he mean by sitting at the
+table without addressing a single word to her?
+
+These were the questions which she was struggling in vain to answer to
+her own satisfaction all the time that Mrs. Thrale was putting
+inquiry after inquiry to her upon a matter that Fanny now regarded as
+insignificant compared with the one that she was trying to answer for
+herself.
+
+Mrs. Thrale was just beginning a series of questions on the subject of
+the comedy which she meant Miss Burney to write, when a servant appeared
+with a message for the former.
+
+“Tiresome!” exclaimed Fanny's hostess, rising. “Here is some
+insignificant household matter that can only be dealt with by the
+mistress--summer frocks for two girls: the carrier has brought some
+boxes--the summer has come upon us before spring has prepared us for
+its arrival, and there has been a despairing cry heard in the nursery.
+I need not excuse myself to you, Miss Burney. You will spare me for ten
+minutes.”
+
+Miss Burney hoped that the feeling of relief of which she was conscious
+did not show itself on her face, when she expressed the hope that Mrs.
+Thrale would not think of her; she would be quite happy with the birds.
+
+“And the comedy--do not forget the comedy.”
+
+Miss Burney laughed, but before her hostess had reached the door leading
+off the terrace, she was once more immersed in that question:
+
+“What does he mean by his change of attitude in regard to me?”
+
+It was serious--so much she knew. He had heard something that had caused
+him to change. But what could he have heard? What manner of man was he
+that would allow himself to be so influenced by anything that he might
+hear against her, without first coming to her for an explanation?
+
+Her mind went back to the evening when they had first met. It was in St.
+Martin's Street. He was there on the invitation of Dr. Burney: but it
+seemed that he had become conscious of a sympathy existing between her
+and himself, for he had remained by her side for a full hour while the
+others in the room were singing and playing on the piano, and he had
+held her hand at parting, expressing the hope, which his eyes confirmed,
+that they would soon meet again.
+
+And they had met again and again until one evening they found themselves
+alone in an anteroom to the apartment where a musical programme
+was being performed at a great house. Then he had told her that his
+happiness depended on her returning the love which he bore her; and
+startled though she had been, yet when he took her hand all her shyness
+seemed to vanish and she confessed....
+
+A sound behind her only served to make her memory seem more vivid, for
+it was his voice that reached her ear and it was singing the same aria
+that he had come from singing on that evening--the passionate
+“_Lascia ch'io pianga_” of Handel. Once more she was listening to
+the strains--they came from one of the rooms that opened upon the
+terrace--and now the chords of the accompaniment were struck with a
+vehemence that had been absent from her father's playing to Rauzzini's
+singing upon that occasion.
+
+She listened as if in a dream while the noble, despairing strain went on
+to its close, and the melody sobbed itself into silence--a silence
+that the birds among the roses seemed unwilling to break, for only an
+occasional note of a thrush was in the air....
+
+She heard the sound of the door opening a little way down the
+terrace--of a foot upon the flagged path. She did not raise her head,
+but she knew that he was there--only a few yards away from her.
+
+Through the silence there came the cawing of rooks far away among the
+trees of the park.
+
+Then all at once she heard his sudden exclamation of surprise. He had
+not seen her at first; he saw her now.
+
+“_Dio mio! ella è qui!_”
+
+Still she did not turn her head toward him. More than a minute had
+passed before she heard his slow steps as he approached her. He was
+beside her for quite as long before he spoke.
+
+“I did not know that you were here,” he said in a low voice. “But I am
+glad. It is but right that I should say good-bye to you alone.”
+
+Then she looked up.
+
+“Why--why--why?” she cried almost piteously. “Why should you say
+good-bye? What has made the change in you?”
+
+“It is not I who have changed: it is you,” said he. “I loved the sweet,
+modest, untarnished jewel of a girl--a pearl hidden away from the sight
+of men in a dim sea-cave--a violet--ah, I told you how I loved the
+violet that hides itself from every eye--that was what you were when
+I loved you, and I hoped to return to your side and find you the same.
+Well, I return and--ah, where is the exquisite shrinking one that I
+looked for? Gone--gone--gone for ever, and in her place I find one whose
+name is in every mouth--not a soft, gentle girl, but a woman who has put
+her heart into a book--_Dio mio!_ A woman who puts her heart into a
+book is like a woman who disrobes in a public place--worse--worse--she
+exposes a heart that should be sacred--feelings that it would be a gross
+indelicacy to exhibit to the eyes of man!”
+
+“And that is how you think of me on account of what I have done?” said
+she.
+
+“How can I think anything else?” he cried. “I told you that I loved you
+because you were so unlike others--because you were like a child for
+timidity and innocence of the world. I told you on that last evening we
+were together how greatly I admired the act of Miss Linley in turning
+her back upon the platform where she had sung and vowing never to
+return to it--that was what I told you I loved--I who have seen how
+the nature--the womanly charm of every woman suffers by reason of her
+appealing to the public for money--for applause. That beautiful creature
+forsook the platform before it was too late--before the evil influence
+could work her ruin. But you--what do I hear the day I return to
+England?--you have put your heart--your soul, into a book that causes
+your name to be tossed about from mouth to mouth--Fanny Burney--Fanny
+Burney--Fanny Burney--I hear that name, which I regarded as sacred,
+spoken as freely as men speak the name of their Kitty Fisher--their
+Polly Kennedy--their Fanny Abington! These are public characters--so
+are you--oh, my God! so are you. You should have heard how you were
+discussed in that room behind us before you arrived to-day--that
+gross man Johnson--he called you by a dozen pet names as if he had a
+right--'Fan'--'Fannikin'--I know not what--' a shy rogue '--that was
+another! They laughed! They did not see the degradation of it. You were
+a toy of the public--the vulgar crowd! Ah, you saw how that gross man,
+who fed himself as a wolf, tucked you under his arm and the others only
+smiled! Oh, I was shocked--shocked!”
+
+“And I felt proud--prouder than I have felt in my life,” said she. “But
+now I see what I have lost--forfeited. Listen to me and I will tell
+you what my dream was. I had written that book, but I had no hope of
+printing it until I met you and heard from your lips--all that I heard.”
+
+“It was the truth--then: I loved you--then.”
+
+“I knew that it was the truth. But who was I that I should be beloved by
+you? I felt that it would be unendurable to me to hear people refer
+to us--as I knew they would--the great singer who had stooped to a
+nonentity.”
+
+“Ah! that was the charm!”
+
+“Who except you would have said so? I knew what they would say, and I
+made up my mind that I would not go to you except as an equal. I wanted
+you to marry someone of whom you would feel proud, and I thought that
+I had a little gift which I would lay at your feet. I did my best to
+perfect it for your sake; but even when the book was printed I would not
+give you my promise until I had assured myself that the gift would be
+pronounced worthy of your acceptance. That was why I put you off for so
+many months.”
+
+“Ah, that was your mystery--you called it a mystery.”
+
+“That was my secret--my mystery. Never mind; I thought that my hope was
+realized when everyone about me was talking of the book and when people
+whose opinion was valuable had said it was good--my one thought, God
+knows, was that I could go to you--that I could make you happy, since I
+should be thought by the world to be in some measure at least, worthy of
+you.”
+
+“My poor child! you have not made me happy, but miserable. No one can
+make me happy now. I do not love you now--you are a different person
+now, and you can never return to be what you were. That is the worst of
+all: you can never return to your former innocence.”
+
+“I can bear to hear you say even that; for now I perceive the mistake I
+made. I should not have thought of the difference between us: I should
+only have had one thought--that you had offered me your love and that I
+was ready to offer you my love. That should have been enough for me. You
+were right, I was wrong. Good-bye.”
+
+He looked at her for a few moments--tears were in his eyes and on his
+cheeks--then he turned away with a passionate gesture, crying in his
+native tongue:
+
+“Mother--mother in heaven! I loved her because she was of a nature the
+same as yours--saint-like as a lily--shrinking from the world--in the
+world but having nothing in common with the world. I loved her because
+I thought that she was as you were. I will not be a traitor to your
+ideal--to your memory.”
+
+He returned to her.
+
+“I am alone in the world; but I know that the spirit of that saint,
+my mother, looks down upon me from her heaven, and will comfort me. My
+heart is broken. _Addio! Addio!_ I do not mean to be cruel--tell me that
+you do not accuse me of being cruel!”
+
+“I do not accuse you. I think I understand you--that is all.”
+
+“_Addio--addio--addio!_”
+
+The sound of his voice grew less with every word.
+
+She was alone in the silence of the twilight.
+
+Not for long, however. She heard the voice of Mrs. Thrale in the room
+behind her, followed by the protests of Dr. Johnson.
+
+“Miss Burney and I want to have an undisturbed talk together about
+writing books,” Mrs. Thrale was saying as she came out upon the terrace.
+
+“Books, madam; any fool can talk of books, and a good many fools avail
+themselves of the licence,” cried Johnson. “Miss Burney and I are going
+to talk about life. Books are not life, Miss Burney.”
+
+“No, sir,” said Miss Burney slowly; “books are not life--books are not
+life.”
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Fanny's First Novel, by Frank Frankfort Moore
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 51922 ***
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-
-The Project Gutenberg EBook of Fanny's First Novel, by Frank Frankfort Moore
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
-other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
-the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
-www.gutenberg.org.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
-to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
-
-
-
-Title: Fanny's First Novel
-
-Author: Frank Frankfort Moore
-
-Release Date: May 1, 2016 [EBook #51922]
-Last Updated: March 13, 2018
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FANNY'S FIRST NOVEL ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by David Widger from page images generously
-provided by the Internet Archive
-
-
-
-
-
-
-</pre>
-
-    <div style="height: 8em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h1>
-      FANNY'S FIRST NOVEL
-    </h1>
-    <h2>
-      By Frank Frankfort Moore.
-    </h2>
-    <h4>
-      Author of &ldquo;The Jessamy Bride,&rdquo; &ldquo;A Nest of Linnets,&rdquo; &ldquo;I Forbid the 'Banns,&rdquo;
-       Etc.
-    </h4>
-    <h4>
-      London: Hutchinson &amp; Co. Paternoster Row, E. C.
-    </h4>
-    <h3>
-      1913
-    </h3>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0001.jpg" alt="0001 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0001.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
-      <img src="images/0009.jpg" alt="0009 " width="100%" /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h5>
-      <a href="images/0009.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
-    </h5>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <b>CONTENTS</b>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>FANNY'S FIRST NOVEL</b> </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXXII </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER XXXIII </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0034"> CHAPTER XXXIV </a>
-    </p>
-    <p class="toc">
-      <a href="#link2HCH0035"> CHAPTER XXXV </a>
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h1>
-      <i>FANNY'S FIRST NOVEL</i>
-    </h1>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER I
-    </h2>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>NDEED, I am not
-      quite assured in my mind that the influence of Mr. Garrick upon such a
-      family as ours is healthy,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney, when the breakfast cups had
-      been removed and the maid had left the room in the little house in St.
-      Martin's Street, off Leicester Fields. Dr. Burney, the music-master, had
-      not to hurry away this day: his first lesson did not begin until noon; it
-      was to be given at the mansion of Mr. Thrale, the brewer, at Streatham,
-      and the carriage was not to call for him for another hour. He was glancing
-      at the <i>Advertiser</i> in unaccustomed indolence, but when his wife had
-      spoken he glanced up from the paper and an expression of amused surprise
-      was upon his face. His daughter Fanny glanced up from the work-basket
-      which her mother had placed ready for her the moment that the
-      breakfast-table had been cleared, and the expression upon little Miss
-      Burney's face was one that had something of fright in it. She was too
-      short-sighted to see the wink which her brother James, lieutenant in His
-      Majesty's navy, gave her, for their stepmother had her back turned to him.
-      But Mrs. Burney, without seeing him, knew that, as he himself would phrase
-      it, he had tipped Fanny a wink. She turned quickly round upon him, and if
-      she had previously any doubt on this point, it was at once dispelled by
-      the solemnity of his face.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Dr. Burney gave a laugh.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The influence of Mr. Garrick is like that of the air we breathe,&rdquo; said
-      he. &ldquo;It is not to be resisted by the age we live in, leaving family
-      matters out of the question altogether: the Burney family must inhale as
-      much of the spirit of Mr. Garrick as the rest of the town-they cannot help
-      themselves, <i>ces pauvres Burneys!</i> they cannot live without Mr.
-      Garrick.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Mrs. Burney shook her head solemnly; so did Lieutenant James Burney, for
-      he had all his life been under the influence of Mr. Garrick, when the
-      atmosphere brought by Mr. Garrick was one of comedy.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;My meaning is that Mr. Garrick is not content to allow simple people such
-      as ourselves to live as simple people,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;I protest that
-      I have felt it: the moment he enters our house we seem to be in a new
-      world-whatsoever world it is his whim to carry us to.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That is the truth, my dear-he can do what he pleases with us and with all
-      the thousands who have flocked to his playhouse since his Goodman's Fields
-      days&mdash;he has made a fortune as a courier; transporting people to
-      another world for an hour or two every night&mdash;a world that is less
-      humdrum than this in which four beats go to every bar and every crotchet
-      goes to a beat! Dear soul! he has made our hearts beat at times beyond all
-      computation of time and space.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You will herring-bone the edges neatly, Fanny: I noticed some lack of
-      neatness in the last of the napery that left your hand, my dear,&rdquo; said
-      Mrs. Burney, bending over her stepdaughter at her work-basket; and,
-      indeed, it seemed that the caution was not unnecessary, for Fanny's eyes
-      were gleaming and she was handling her work with as great indifference
-      (for the moment) as though she esteemed plain sewing something of drudgery
-      rather than a delight. And now, having administered her timely caution,
-      the good lady turned to her husband, saying:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;To my mind what you have claimed for Mr. Garrick but adds emphasis to my
-      contention that his visits have a disturbing influence upon a homely
-      family, taking them out of themselves, so to speak, and transporting them
-      far beyond the useful work of their daily life. I have noticed with pain
-      for some time past that Fanny's heart has not been in her work: her
-      cross-stitch has been wellnigh slovenly, and her herring-boning has really
-      been indifferent&mdash;I say it with sorrow; but dear Fanny is too good a
-      girl to take offence at my strictures, which she knows are honest and
-      meant for her good.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Madam,&rdquo; said Lieutenant Burney, &ldquo;I pray you to give me leave to bear you
-      out; but at the same time to make excuses for Fan. I must do so in justice
-      to her, for the blame rests with me so far as the herring-boning is
-      concerned. I confess, with tears in my eyes, that 'twas I who provided her
-      with the last models for her herring-boning; and 'twas surely some demon
-      in my breast that prompted me to substitute the skeleton of one of the
-      South Sea fishes which I hooked when becalmed with Captain Cook within
-      sight of Otaheite, for the true herring whose backbone is a model of
-      regularity to be followed by all workers with the needle, when deprived of
-      the flesh, which is the staple fare of hundreds of honest families and,
-      while nourishing them amply, prevents their thoughts from carrying them
-      beyond the region pervaded by the smell of their cooking.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That were a wide enough area upon occasions for the most ambitious of
-      thinkers,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney, controlling his features, seeing that his wife
-      took the ward-room humour of his son with dreadful seriousness. He made a
-      sign to James to go no further&mdash;but James had gone round the world
-      once, and he was not to be checked in a humbler excursion.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, madam, 'tis my duty to confess that Fanny's model was the
-      flying-fish, and not the simple Channel herring, hence the failure to
-      achieve the beautiful regularity of design which exists in the backbone of
-      the latter from the figurehead to the stern, larboard sloping in one
-      direction and starboard in the other. If anyone be culpable 'tis myself,
-      not Fanny; but I throw myself on your mercy, and only implore that the
-      herring-boning of my sister will not result in a whaling for me.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Mrs. Burney looked seriously from her brother to Fanny, and getting no cue
-      from either, began:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;'Tis indeed honourable for you to endeavour by your confession to excuse
-      the fault of your sister, James&mdash;&mdash;-&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The traditions of the service, madam&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; began the lieutenant,
-      laying his hand on his heart; but he got no further, for Fanny could
-      restrain herself no longer; she burst into a laugh and dropped her work,
-      and her father rose, holding up his hand.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The jest has gone far enough, James,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;We sleep in beds in this
-      house and do not swing in hammocks. Keep your deep-sea jests until you are
-      out of soundings, if it please you.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I ask your pardon, sir,&rdquo; said James; &ldquo;but i' faith there's many a true
-      word said in jest; and it seems to me that there's a moral in the parable
-      of the young woman who took the flying-fish of the South Seas for her
-      model rather than the herring of the three-fathom coast-line of the
-      Channel; and that moral touches close upon the complaint made by our good
-      mother against Mr. Garrick.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Let it be so,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney, who was a clever enough woman to
-      perceive that it would be unwise to make a grievance of the impudence of a
-      young naval gentleman. &ldquo;Let it be so; let it be that we are simple,
-      homely, wholesome herrings, we are none the better for such a flying-fish
-      as Mr. Garrick coming among us, giving us, it may be, the notion that our
-      poor fins are wings, and so urging us to make fools of ourselves by
-      emulating the eagle. The moral of your fable is that we should keep to our
-      own element&mdash;is not that so, sir?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I' faith, madam, I am not sure but that 'tis so, and I haul down my
-      colours to you, and feel no dishonour in the act,&rdquo; cried James. &ldquo;Lord,
-      where should we all be to-day if it were not for the good women who hold
-      fast to the old traditions of the distaff and needle? They are the women
-      who do more for the happiness of men than all who pass their time dipping
-      quills in ink-horns or daubing paint upon good canvas that might with luck
-      be hung from a stunsail boom and add another knot to the log of a frigate
-      of seventy-two! Is there anyone who dines at the table of Sir Joshua
-      Reynolds round the corner that does not wish with all his heart that his
-      sister would sell her palette and buy a wine-glass or two with the
-      proceeds? Why, when we went to dinner at Sir Joshua's yesterday there were
-      not enough glasses to go round the table.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;There never are&mdash;that is well known,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Nay, nay; let us take to ourselves the reproof of Dr. Johnson to Mr.
-      Boswell when he complained, loud enough almost for Sir Joshua himself to
-      hear him, about the scarcity of service. 'Sir,' said Dr. Johnson, 'some
-      who have the privilege of sitting at this table, and you are one of them,
-      sir, will be wiser if they keep their ears open and their mouths shut than
-      they would if they had the means of drinking all that you are longing to
-      drink.'&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Mr. Boswell, in spite of the reproof, contrived to lurch from the table
-      with more wine than wisdom 'tween decks,&rdquo; remarked James.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;He must have found a wine-glass,&rdquo; said Miss Susy Burney, who had been
-      quite silent but quite attentive to every word that had been spoken since
-      breakfast-time.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And so the honour of Mrs. Reynolds's housekeeping is saved,&rdquo; said Dr.
-      Burney.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Nay, sir, is not Mr. Boswell a Scotsman?&rdquo; cried the irrepressible James.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That is his lifelong sorrow, since he fancies it to be an insuperable
-      barrier between his idol, Dr. Johnson, and himself,&rdquo; replied his father.
-      &ldquo;But how does his Scotsmanship bear upon the wine-glass question?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Ah, sir, without being versed in the subtleties of theology I make bold
-      to think that Father Adam did not suffer hunger until knives and forks
-      were invented,&rdquo; said James. &ldquo;Your drouthy Scot will drink straight from
-      the bottle if no beaker be at hand. Oh, why was not Mr. Garrick at Sir
-      Joshua's to rouse our spirits by his imitation of Mr. Boswell seeking for
-      a wine-glass&mdash;and after?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Mr. Boswell is too trivial a subject for Davy: I have seen him take off
-      Dr. Johnson mixing a bowl of punch until I was like to die of laughter. I
-      protest that when he came to the squeezing of the imaginary lemon, while
-      he cried out in the Doctor's broadest Lichfield, 'Who's for poonch?' I
-      could smell the acid juice,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney, and he laughed at the
-      recollection of Garrick's fooling.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The naval man gave a resounding nautical smack to his thigh.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That is what 'tis to be a sailor,&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;I have had no chance of
-      seeing Mr. Garrick at his best. I should dearly like to hear him take off
-      Mr. Boswell when three sheets in the wind. Why was he not with us
-      yesterday?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Mr. Garrick himself has had a drinking bout on. He has been at the Wells
-      for the past fortnight,&rdquo; said his father.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;<i>Ecce signum!</i>&rdquo; came a doleful voice from the door, and a little man
-      slowly put round the jamb a face bearing such an expression of piteous
-      nausea as caused everyone in the room&mdash;not even excepting Mrs. Burney&mdash;to
-      roar with laughter&mdash;uncontrollable laughter.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Then the expression on the little man's face changed to one of surprised
-      indignation. He crept into the room and looked at every person therein
-      with a different expression on his face for each&mdash;a variation of his
-      original expression of disgust and disappointment mingled with doleful
-      reproof. It seemed as if it was not a single person who had entered the
-      room, but half a dozen persons&mdash;a whole doleful and disappointed
-      family coming upon an unsympathetic crew convulsed with hilarity.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And then he shook his head sadly.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And these are the people who have just heard that I have been taking the
-      nauseous waters of Tunbridge Wells for a whole fortnight,&rdquo; and there was a
-      break in his voice. &ldquo;Oh, Friendship, art thou but a name? Oh, Sympathy,
-      art thou but a mask? Is the world of sentiment nothing more than a world
-      of shadows? Have all the sweet springs of compassion dried up, leaving us
-      nothing but the cataracts of chalybeate to nauseate the palate?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      He looked round once more, and putting the tips of his fingers together,
-      glanced sadly up to the ceiling, then sighed and turned as if to leave the
-      room.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Nay, sir,&rdquo; cried Dr. Burney, &ldquo;I do not believe that the chalybeate
-      cataracts still flow: 'tis my firm belief, from the expression of your
-      face, that you have swallowed the whole spring&mdash;the Wells of
-      Tunbridge must have been dried up by you before you left&mdash;your face
-      betrays you. I vow that so chalybeate an expression could not be attained
-      by lesser means.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Sir, you do me honour, and you have a larger faith in me than my own
-      physician,&rdquo; said the little man, brightening up somewhat. &ldquo;Would you
-      believe that he had the effrontery to accuse me of shirking the hourly
-      pailful that he prescribed for me?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;He had not seen you as we have, Mr. Garrick,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;He accused me of spending my days making matches and making mischief in
-      the Assembly Rooms and only taking the waters by sips&mdash;me, sir, that
-      have so vivid a memory of Mr. Pope's immortal lines:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br />
-    </p>
-    <p class="indent15">
-      A little sipping is a dangerous tiling,
-    </p>
-    <p class="indent15">
-      Drink deep or taste not the chalybeate spring!&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      <br />
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You were traduced, my friend&mdash;but tell us of the matches and the
-      mischief and we shall be the more firmly convinced of your integrity.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Nay, sir; I give you my word that 'twas but the simplest of matches&mdash;not
-      by any means of the sort that yonder desperado fresh from the South Seas
-      applies to the touch-hole of one of his horrible ten-pounders when the
-      enemy's frigate has to be sunk&mdash;nay, a simple little match with no
-      more powder for it to burn than may be found on the wig of a gentleman of
-      fifty-two and on the face of a lady of forty-five&mdash;the one a gay
-      bachelor, t'other a ripe widow&mdash;' made for one another,' said I; and
-      where was the mischief in that? And if I ventured to broach the subject of
-      the appropriateness of the union of the twain, and to boast under the
-      inspiring influence of the chalybeate spring that I could bring it about,
-      is there anyone that will hint that I was not acting out of pure good
-      nature and a desire to make two worthy folk happy&mdash;as happy as
-      marriage can make any two&mdash;&mdash;-&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Give us their names, sir, and let us judge on that basis,&rdquo; said Dr.
-      Bumey.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I have no desire to withhold them, my dear Doctor; for I want you to back
-      me up, and I am sure that&mdash;oh, Lord! here comes the man himself. For
-      the love of heaven, back me up, Doctor, and all will be well.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Nay, I will not be dragged by the hair of the head into any of your
-      plots, my friend,&rdquo; cried Burney. &ldquo;Nay, not I. I have some reputation to
-      maintain, good friend Garrick; you must play alone the part of Puck that
-      you have chosen for yourself this many a year. Think not that you will
-      induce me to study the character under you, and so thus&mdash;&mdash;-&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      The manservant threw open the door of the room, announcing:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Mr. Kendal to wait upon you, sir.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      But by the time a small and rather rotund gentleman had been ushered into
-      the room, Mr. Garrick was apparently engaged in an animated conversation
-      with Miss Burney on the subject of the table-cover at which she was
-      working.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER II
-    </h2>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE visitor walked
-      with the short strut of the man who at least does not underrate his own
-      importance in the world. But he suggested just at the moment the man who
-      is extremely nervous lest he may not appear perfectly selfpossessed. There
-      was an air of bustle about him as he strutted into the room, saying:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Dr. Burney, I am your servant, sir. I have done myself the honour to
-      visit you on a rather important piece of business.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Sir, you have conferred honour upon me,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Then the gentleman seemed to become aware for the first time that there
-      were other people in the room; but it was with an air of reluctance that
-      he felt called on to greet the others.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Mrs. Burney, I think,&rdquo; he said, bowing to that lady, &ldquo;and her estimable
-      family, I doubt not. Have I not had the privilege of meeting Mrs. Burney
-      at the house of&mdash;of my friend&mdash;my esteemed friend, Mrs. Barlowe?
-      And this gentleman of the Fleet&mdash;ha, to be sure I have heard that
-      there was a Lieutenant Burney of the Navy! And&mdash;gracious heavens! Mr.
-      Garrick!&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Mr. Garrick had revealed himself from the recesses of Miss Burney's
-      work-basket. He, at any rate, was sufficiently self-possessed to pretend
-      to be vastly surprised. He raised both his hands, crying:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Is it possible that this is Mr. Kendal? But surely I left you at the
-      Wells no later than&mdash;now was it not the night before last? You were
-      the cynosure of the Assembly Rooms, sir, if I may make bold to say so. But
-      I could not look for you to pay attention to a poor actor when you were
-      receiving the attentions of the young, and, may I add without offence, the
-      fair? But no, sir; you will not find that I am the one to tell tales out
-      of school, though I doubt not you have received the congratulations of&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;There you go, sir, just the same as the rest of them!&rdquo; cried the visitor.
-      &ldquo;Congratulations! felicitations! smiles of deep meaning from the ladies,
-      digs in the ribs with suggestive winks from the gentlemen&mdash;people
-      whose names I could not recall&mdash;whom I'll swear I had never spoken to
-      in my life&mdash;that is why I left the Wells as hastily as if a tipstaff
-      had been after me&mdash;that is why I am here this morning, after posting
-      every inch of the way, to consult Dr. Burney as to my position.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I protest, sir, that I do not quite take you,&rdquo; said Mr. Garrick, with the
-      most puzzled expression on his face that ever man wore. &ldquo;Surely, sir, your
-      position as a man of honour is the most enviable one possible to imagine!
-      Mrs. Nash&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;There you blurt out the name, Mr. Garrick, and that is what I had no
-      intention of doing, even when laying my case before Dr. Burney, who is a
-      man of the world, and whom I trust to advise me what course I should
-      pursue.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I ask your pardon, sir,&rdquo; said Mr. Garrick humbly; &ldquo;but if the course you
-      mean to pursue has aught to do with the pursuit of so charming a lady, and
-      a widow to boot&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;How in the name of all that's reasonable did that gossip get about?&rdquo;
-       cried the visitor. &ldquo;I give you my word that I have not been pursuing the
-      lady&mdash;I met her at the Wells for the first time a fortnight ago&mdash;pursuit
-      indeed!&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Nay, sir, I did not suggest that the pursuit was on your part,&rdquo; said
-      Garrick in a tone of irresistible flattery. &ldquo;But 'tis well known that as
-      an object of pursuit of the fair ones, the name of Mr. Kendal has been for
-      ten years past acknowledged without a peer.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      The gentleman held up a deprecating hand, but the smile that was on his
-      face more than neutralized his suggestion.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Nay, Mr. Garrick, I am but a simple country gentleman,&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;To be
-      sure, I have been singled out more than once for favours that might have
-      turned the head of an ordinary mortal&mdash;one of them had a fortune and
-      was the toast of the district; another&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;If you will excuse me, gentlemen, the Miss Burneys and myself will take
-      our leave of you: we have household matters in our hands,&rdquo; said Mrs.
-      Burney, making a sign to Fanny and her sister, and going toward the door.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Have I said too much, madam? If so, I pray of you to keep my secret,&rdquo;
-       cried the visitor. &ldquo;The truth is that I have confidence in the advice of
-      Dr. Burney as a man of the world.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I fear that to be a man of the world is to be of the flesh and the devil
-      as well,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Augmented qualifications for giving advice on an affair of the Wells,&rdquo;
-       said Garrick slyly to the naval lieutenant.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You will not forget, Doctor, that Mr. Thrale's carriage is appointed to
-      call for you within the hour,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney over her shoulder as she
-      left the room.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Fanny and her sister were able to restrain themselves for the few minutes
-      necessary to fly up the narrow stairs, but the droll glance that Mr.
-      Garrick had given them as they followed their mother, wellnigh made them
-      disgrace themselves by bursting out within the hearing of their father's
-      visitor. But when they reached the parlour at the head of the stairs and
-      had thrown themselves in a paroxysm of laughter on the sofa, Mrs. Burney
-      reproved them with some gravity.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;This is an instance, if one were needed, of the unsettling influence of
-      Mr. Garrick,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;He has plainly been making a fool of that
-      conceited gentleman, and it seems quite likely that he will persuade your
-      father to back him up.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I do not think that Mr. Garrick could improve greatly upon Nature's
-      handiwork in regard to that poor Mr. Kendal,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;But what would
-      life be without Mr. Garrick?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It would be more real, I trust,&rdquo; said her stepmother. &ldquo;He would have us
-      believe that life is a comedy, and that human beings are like the puppets
-      which Mr. Foote put on his stage for the diversion of the town a few years
-      ago.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Fanny Burney became grave; the longer she was living in the world, the
-      more impressed was she becoming with the idea that life was a puppet-show;
-      only when the puppets began to dance on their wires in a draught of wind
-      from another world the real comedy began. She felt that as an interpreter
-      of life Mr. Garrick had no equal on the stage or off. On the stage he
-      could do no more than interpret other people's notions of life, and these,
-      except in the case of Shakespeare, were, she thought, mostly feeble; but
-      when he was off the stage&mdash;well, Sir Joshua Reynolds had told her
-      what that queer person, Dr. Goldsmith, had written about Garrick&mdash;the
-      truest criticism Garrick had ever received: &ldquo;'Twas only that when he was
-      off he was acting.&rdquo; She knew what she herself owed to Garrick from the
-      time she was nine years old, when he had accustomed her and her sister to
-      look for him at their house almost daily; she knew that whatever sense of
-      comedy she possessed&mdash;and she looked on it as a precious possession&mdash;was
-      to be attributed to the visits of Garrick. Every time she looked at her
-      carefully locked desk in that room at the top of the house in St. Martin's
-      Street, which had once been Sir Isaac Newton's observatory, she felt that
-      without the tuition in comedy that she had received at the hands of Mr.
-      Garrick, the contents of that desk would have been very different. Her
-      stepmother, however, had no information on this point; she had lived all
-      her life among the good tradespeople of Lynn, and had known nothing of Mr.
-      Garrick until Dr. Burney had married her and brought her to look after his
-      children, which Fanny knew she had done faithfully, according to her
-      lights, in London.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Fanny kept silent on the subject of Mr. Garrick's fooling, while Mrs.
-      Burney bent with great gravity over the cutting out of a pinafore for
-      Fanny's little niece&mdash;also a Burney; and every now and again there
-      came from the closed room downstairs the sound of the insisting voice of
-      the visitor. She hoped that Mr. Garrick would re-enact the scene for her;
-      she had confidence that it would lose nothing by its being re-enacted by
-      Mr. Garrick.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER III
-    </h2>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> SUPPOSE that I
-      must e'en follow in the wake of the womenkind,&rdquo; said Lieutenant Burney,
-      making an extremely slow move in the direction of the door, when the door
-      had been closed upon his stepmother and his sisters.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Is there any need?&rdquo; asked Garrick. &ldquo;It seems to me that in such a case as
-      this which Mr. Kendal promises to propound to your father, His Majesty's
-      Navy should be represented. In all matters bearing upon a delicate <i>affaire
-      de cour</i> surely a naval man should be present to act as assessor.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      'Mr. Kendal looked puzzled.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I fail to take your meaning, sir,&rdquo; said he, after a pause; he was still
-      rubbing his chin with a fore-finger, when Garrick cried:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, sir, surely the advantage of the counsel of an officer trained to
-      navigate femininity in the shape of a ship, is apparent: a ship, even
-      though a three-decker ready to fire a broadside of a hundred guns, is
-      invariably alluded to as 'she,'&rdquo; said he, airily.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Such an one must surely be the most formidable piece of femininity in the
-      world,&rdquo; said Mr. Kendal.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;By no means,&rdquo; said Garrick. &ldquo;During my career as the manager of a
-      playhouse I have had to face worse. Still, the training of a naval officer
-      in dealing with feminine craft&mdash;at times off a lee shore, and often
-      during a storm at sea&mdash;nothing to be compared to the tempests in our
-      green-room&mdash;is certain to be of value. You will stay, Lieutenant
-      Burney, if it please you.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I should be most unwilling to obtrude upon your council, sir,&rdquo; said young
-      Burney, &ldquo;unless you are convinced that my humble services&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You have been among the savages of the South Seas, and you are acquainted
-      with all the rules of chasing and capturing prizes, all of the feminine
-      gender&mdash;I allude to your sloops and frigates and catamarans&mdash;I
-      take it for granted that a catamaran is as feminine in its ways as any
-      wherry that floats,&rdquo; cried Garrick. Then he turned to their visitor, who
-      was looking more puzzled than ever.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You may reckon yourself fortunate in the presence of our young friend,
-      sir,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;So far as I can gather this is a case of chase, with a
-      possible capture of a prize. I venture to think that in these days a
-      gentleman of family and fortune, like yourself, is something of a prize,
-      Mr. Kendal.&rdquo; This was language that contained nothing to puzzle anyone,
-      the visitor perceived. His face brightened, and he waved young Burney to a
-      seat.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I take it that Mr. Garrick knows what he is talking about,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;And
-      though it was truly your father to whom I came for counsel, I doubt not
-      that you will take my part, should the worst come to the worst.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Which means, should the lady come to the gentleman, Mr. Burney,&rdquo; said
-      Garrick.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Pay out your yarn, sir: I gather that you are still to the windward of
-      your enemy, and that is the position which the books tell us we should
-      manoeuvre for,&rdquo; cried the nautical assessor.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Dr. Burney sat silently by, he had no mind to join in the fooling of the
-      others. Dr. Burney had never in his life lost a sense of his own dignity.
-      He had been a church organist for thirty years, and no man who has had
-      such an experience of the control of an instrument of such superlative
-      dignity could be otherwise than dignified. He had never once run off on a
-      keyboard a single phrase of &ldquo;The Beggar's Opera.&rdquo; Even Handel's &ldquo;Ruddier
-      than the Cherry,&rdquo; with Mr. Gay's ticklish rhymed line about &ldquo;Kidlings
-      blithe and merry,&rdquo; he only played apologetically, allowing it to be
-      clearly understood that Mr. Handel and Mr. Gay divided between them the
-      responsibility for so frivolous a measure.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      He remained dignified and silent while Garrick and James carried on their
-      fooling. Only a short time before he had occasion to reprove the lack of
-      dignity on the part of his important patroness, Mrs. Thrale, the wife of
-      the wealthy brewer, in having put herself behind Signor Piozzi while he
-      was singing a sentimental canzone and mimicked his southern fervour of
-      expression. Mrs. Thrale had taken his reproof in good part at the time;
-      but no one&mdash;least of all Mrs. Thrale herself&mdash;could have
-      foreseen that her contrition should extend so far as to cause her to marry
-      the singer on the death of Mr. Thrale.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;To be brief, sir,&rdquo; said Mr. Kendal, addressing, not Dr. Burney, whom he
-      had come to consult, but Mr. Garrick, who had shown himself to be much
-      more sympathetic. &ldquo;To be brief, I had gone to the Wells as my custom has
-      been for the past twenty years. I went honestly to drink the waters, not
-      making it an excuse, as so many do, for indulging in the gaieties, or, I
-      may add, the intrigues, of the Assembly Rooms. I was civil, as I hoped, to
-      everyone, but, I give you my word, no more so to Mrs. Nash than any other
-      lady.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I do not doubt that you believe this, sir,&rdquo; said Garrick, with an
-      indulgent wave of the hand; &ldquo;but when a lady has eyes only for one
-      gentleman, she is apt to place a construction upon the simplest of his
-      civilities beyond that assigned to it by ordinary people; but pray
-      proceed, sir. I will only add that it was quite well known at the Wells
-      that the lady regarded you with the tenderest of emotions. Had she not
-      boldly said to Lady&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash; no; I dare not mention her
-      name; but her ladyship is invariably what the Italians term <i>simpatica</i>
-      in regard to the tender affairs of her sisters&mdash;and it was to her
-      that Mrs. Nash confided her secret&mdash;referring to you as bearing a
-      striking resemblance to the Apollo Belvedere, hoping that her doing so
-      would not cause anyone to accuse her of Pagan leanings.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Is it possible! The poor lady! poor lady! But I was not to blame. I can
-      justly acquit myself of all blame in this unhappy affair,&rdquo; said Mr.
-      Kendal.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You are quite right, sir; is it a man's fault that he should bear a
-      striking likeness to the Apollo&mdash;I doubt not that the resemblance has
-      caused you some annoyance at various times of your life, Mr. Kendal,&rdquo; said
-      Garrick.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Never, sir, never&mdash;at least&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; he took a step to one
-      side that allowed of his having a full-length view of his reflection in
-      the narrow mirror that filled up the space between the windows; and the
-      result of his scrutiny of the picture was certainly not displeasing to
-      him. He boldly put forward a leg, and then quite unconscious, as anyone
-      could see, struck an attitude, though not quite that of the Apollo
-      Belvedere. Then he smirked.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;A leg like yours, Mr. Kendal, to say nothing of the poise of your head,
-      is a great responsibility,&rdquo; said Garrick seriously. &ldquo;The poor lady!&mdash;poor
-      ladies!&mdash;I confess that I have heard of others. And she acknowledged
-      to you that&mdash;that&mdash;oh, that most delicate of secrets!&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Never to me, sir&mdash;never in my hearing, I give you my word,&rdquo; cried
-      the man emphatically. &ldquo;Nay, I did not so much as suspect it. The first
-      intimation that I had of the matter was when, on Monday morning last&mdash;only
-      three days ago&mdash;Captain Kelly&mdash;the boisterous Irishman&mdash;clapt
-      me on the shoulder and almost shouted out his congratulations in my ear.
-      When I forced him to mention the name of the lady, he ridiculed my denial&mdash;his
-      forefinger in my ribs&mdash;painful as well as undignified. Who is Captain
-      Kelly, that he should subject me to his familiarities? But if he was
-      undignified, I flatter myself that I was not so. 'Sir, you presume,' I
-      said, and walked on, leaving this vulgar fellow roaring with laughter.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Psha! Kelly is a nobody,&rdquo; said Garrick. &ldquo;You should not have allowed
-      yourself to be discomposed by such as he.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Nor did I,&rdquo; cried the other. &ldquo;But what was I to think when I had advanced
-      no more than a dozen paces, and found my hand grasped warmly by Sir John
-      Dingle?&mdash;you know him, Mr. Garrick&mdash;I have seen him in your
-      company&mdash;more congratulations&mdash;the same attitude, sir. And then
-      up marches Mr. Sheridan&mdash;leaving his handsome wife&mdash;ah, I fear
-      that I joined with all Bath in being in love with the lovely Miss Linley&mdash;and
-      Mr. Sheridan was wellnigh affronted at my denial. But that was not all. Up
-      comes Mrs. Cholmondeley in her chair and tapped for the men to set her
-      down when she saw me&mdash;up went the roof and up went her head, with a
-      shrill cry of 'Kendal, you rogue! to tell everyone at the Wells save only
-      myself that Benedick is to be a married man!' And before she had finished
-      her ridicule of my denial, up struts Mrs. Thrale, her footman behind her
-      with her spaniel, and down she sinks in a curtsey, fitted only for a
-      special night in the Rooms, and her 'Happy man!' came with a flick of her
-      fan; and she, too, named Mrs. Nash! And that was not the last&mdash;I saw
-      them hurrying up to me from all sides&mdash;ladies with smiles, and
-      gentlemen with smirks&mdash;fingers twitching for my ribs&mdash;down they
-      flowed upon me! I ask you, Lieutenant Burney, as a naval gentleman, and I
-      am glad to have the opportunity of hearing your opinion&mdash;I ask you,
-      if I was not justified in turning about and hastening away&mdash;what you
-      nautical gentlemen term 'cutting my cable '?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Indeed, sir; if I could believe that you gave the lady no encouragement,
-      I would say that&mdash;that&mdash;but no one will convince me that upon
-      some occasion&mdash;it may be forgotten by you&mdash;such men of fashion
-      as yourself soon forget these things, I have heard, though the unhappy
-      lady treasures them as golden memories&mdash;I say upon some occasion you
-      may have given the Widow Nash encouragement. You have your reputation as a
-      sly rogue to maintain, Mr. Kendal,&rdquo; said young Burney gravely, as though
-      he were a lawyer being seriously consulted.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Fore Gad, sir, I gave her no encouragement,&rdquo; cried Mr. Kendal. &ldquo;I have
-      ever been most cautious, I swear.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Then the greater shame for you, sir,&rdquo; said Garrick.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The man whom he addressed looked in amazement first at Garrick, then at
-      Lieutenant Burney&mdash;Dr. Burney, whom he had come to consult, was
-      smiling quite unnoticed in a corner. His part, apparently, was no more
-      than that of the looker-on at a comedy. His presence was ignored by the
-      others.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The more shame&mdash;the more&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; began the visitor. &ldquo;I
-      protest that I scarcely take your meaning, Mr. Garrick.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;My meaning is plain, sir,&rdquo; said Garrick firmly, almost sternly. &ldquo;I affirm
-      that it lay with you, when you perceived that the lady was so deeply
-      enamoured of you&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But I did not perceive it&mdash;you have my word for it.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Ah, sir,&rdquo; said Garrick, with the shrug of a Frenchman, which he had
-      studied for some months in Paris&mdash;Mr. Garrick and Lord Chesterfield
-      had alone mastered the art. &ldquo;Ah, sir, we are all men of the world here.
-      'Twere idle for you to pretend that a gentleman with the figure of the
-      Belvedere Apollo and the leg of&mdash;of&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; he turned to young
-      Burney&mdash; &ldquo;You have seen the proud-stepping figure-heads of many ships
-      of the line, Mr. Burney,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;prithee help me out in my search for&mdash;for&mdash;the
-      name I am in search of.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;H'm, let me see&mdash;something wooden with a leg to be proud of?&rdquo; said
-      the naval gentleman, considering the matter very earnestly.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Zounds, sir, I did not make it a condition that it should be a wooden
-      leg,&rdquo; cried Garrick.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I have seen more than one Admiral of the Fleet mighty proud of a wooden
-      leg, sir,&rdquo; said Burney. &ldquo;But this is beside the question, which I take to
-      be the responsibility of our good friend here&mdash;I hope I don't
-      presume, Mr. Kendal&mdash;for kindling, albeit unconsciously, so far as he
-      was concerned&mdash;that sacred flame in the breast of&mdash;to name only
-      one out of a score&mdash;the lady whose name he mentioned.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You are with me heart and soul, as I felt sure you would be, Mr. Burney;
-      as a naval officer of judgment and experience,&rdquo; cried Garrick, &ldquo;and so,
-      sir&mdash;&rdquo; he turned to their visitor&mdash; &ldquo;I cannot doubt that you
-      will comport yourself as a gentleman of honour in this affair. Do not
-      allow your yielding to the natural impulse to run away to weigh too
-      heavily upon you. If your act should cause you to be referred to with
-      reprobation, not to say scorn, by the ladies or gentlemen of fashion who
-      are certain to espouse the cause of the lady, your subsequent conduct will
-      show them that they mistook your character. And I promise you that should
-      you receive a challenge from any of the lady's admirers&mdash;those whose
-      prayers she rejected because her heart was set on a gentleman who was
-      worthy of her choice&mdash;I think you can afford to ignore them, having
-      won the prize. Ah, sir, is there not a poet who says that every man that
-      lives has a good angel and a bad one contending for dominion over him?
-      That is the truth, Mr. Kendal, and I see that your good angel is none
-      other than the lady whose name I reckon too sacred to pass our lips at
-      such a time as this. Ah, sir, think of her, and let your mind go back to
-      the days of your happy boyhood, and say if the mother at whose knees you
-      knelt did not resemble her. The affection of a son for his mother&mdash;let
-      that plead for the lady who esteems you with more than a mother's love.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      He had laid his hand on the poor gentleman's shoulder, and was looking
-      into his face, while the tears stood in his eyes, and his voice broke more
-      than once.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And there sat Dr. Burney wiping his eyes, and Lieutenant Burney blubbering
-      away like any child&mdash;the two accessories to the actor's farce could
-      not avoid yielding to the-influence of his unparalleled art. Though they
-      were in his secret, he made fools of them as easily as he made a fool of
-      the poor gentleman who was presumably his victim. And they had no feeling
-      of being ashamed of yielding to his powers. He could do anything that he
-      pleased with them. He could do anything he pleased with the multitudes
-      before whom he acted. He was the master of their emotions for the time
-      being. He played upon their passions as though every passion was a puppet
-      and the strings in his own hands.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER IV
-    </h2>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE scene ended by
-      Mr. Garrick's victim groping through his tears for Mr. Garrick's hand. He
-      grasped it emotionally, and though for some moments he was too greatly
-      overcome to be able to utter a word, yet at last he managed to blurt out
-      with affecting incoherence a few phrases.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Say no more&mdash;say no more, sir,&rdquo; he muttered. &ldquo;I have a heart&mdash;a
-      heart! I give you my word, whether you believe me or not, that I had no
-      notion&mdash;but you have shown me what 'tis to be a woman. Oh, sir, there
-      is no sweeter sex in the world! Deception! how a man's own heart may
-      deceive him&mdash;ay, up to a certain point&mdash;but then&mdash;ah, you
-      have taught me&mdash;but are you sure that the lady&mdash;what&mdash;have
-      we not been going ahead too fast? What&mdash;what; are you convinced?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You may take my word for it, sir,&rdquo; replied Garrick. &ldquo;There are signs that
-      all who run may read. What, do you suppose that all those persons of
-      quality whose names you mentioned just now as having offered you their
-      felicitations&mdash;do you suppose that they could all be in error?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Of course not&mdash;they must have seen&mdash;well, more than I saw,&rdquo;
-       said the man. &ldquo;Matrimony! Lud! if an angel had come down to tell me that I
-      should be contemplating such a change of life&mdash;and at my time of life
-      too!&mdash;I should have&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What an angel may fail to convince a man of, a woman may succeed in
-      doing, Mr. Kendal,&rdquo; said Garrick sententiously. &ldquo;But do not talk of your
-      time of life as if you were an old or even a middle-aged man, sir. To do
-      so were to make Dr. Burney and myself feel patriarchs.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      The mention of Dr. Burney seemed to cause the man to recollect how it was
-      he came to be in Dr. Burney's house. He turned to Burney, saying:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Dear sir, I pray that you will look on my visit with lenient eyes. I
-      admit that I came hitherto be advised by you&mdash;my friend, Mr. Fulke
-      Greville, holds your opinion in the highest esteem, as do I, sir; and it
-      was actually on my mind to ask you if you thought it would be wiser for me
-      to go abroad for a year or two, or simply to seek some place of retirement
-      at home&mdash;say, Cornwall or the Hebrides&mdash;I gather from the
-      account of Dr. Johnson's tour thither that there are many places difficult
-      of access in the Hebrides&mdash;that was on my mind, Doctor, I blush to
-      acknowledge, so greatly overcome was I by what had happened at the Wells.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Ah, with what great ease a man may slam the door that shuts out happiness
-      from his life for evermore!&rdquo; remarked Garrick.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Even now&mdash;even now I feel timid,&rdquo; said Mr. Kendal thoughtfully, and,
-      when he had found which pocket his handkerchief was in, wiping some dew
-      from his brow. &ldquo;The truth is, Doctor, that I have allowed some people to
-      assume that I am but forty-seven years old, while as a matter of fact I
-      have been forty-eight for some time.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;For some years?&rdquo; asked young Burney, who did not know when he should keep
-      silence.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;For some months, sir&mdash;only for some months, I give you my word.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Your deception in this matter could only have added to your reputation
-      for accuracy,&rdquo; said Garrick coolly. &ldquo;For I vow that were you to confess
-      that you were forty-eight, you would find none to believe you.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      The gentleman's eyes twinkled, he pursed out his lips, and once again
-      manoeuvred to get a full-length view of himself in the long mirror. He put
-      out his right leg and assumed the attitude of a dancing master giving the
-      <i>pas</i> for the <i>minuet de cour</i>.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, well,&rdquo; he cried, &ldquo;if that be your opinion&mdash;and I happen to
-      know that 'tis shared by others&mdash;it might not be unwise to allow the
-      assumption, erroneous though it be, to continue. We will not undeceive the
-      good folk. And you do not think that a bachelor of forty-eight&mdash;What
-      is the name of that play of Mr. Sheridan's that took the town a year ago?&mdash;ah,
-      <i>The School for Scandal</i>&mdash;you are sure that our friends will not
-      call me&mdash;What was the gentleman's name?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No one who knows how excellent are your principles will think of you
-      either as Charles or Joseph, Mr. Kendal,&rdquo; said Garrick.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, no; but the one who was in my mind was neither of the brothers. I was
-      thinking of&mdash;was it not Sir Peter Teazle?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Garrick as well as Burney laughed heartily, for the man at that moment
-      suggested by his attitude and expression the Sir Peter Teazle of Kina, the
-      actor.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Make your mind easy on that score, sir,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney. &ldquo;It is not your
-      purpose to wed so skittish a young person as Lady Teazle. That was where
-      Sir Peter showed his folly.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, no; Mrs. Nash is more mature, certainly, than Mrs. Abington looked in
-      the part,&rdquo; said Mr. Kendal confidently, and Lieutenant Burney was about to
-      agree with him boisterously, but Garrick did not give him a chance.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;There is none that will not commend your choice, Mr. Kendal&mdash;ay,
-      sir, and look on you with envy as well,&rdquo; he cried.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;There can be no doubt about it,&rdquo; said Mr. Kendal doubtfully. &ldquo;The widow
-      Nash is a monstrous fine woman.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Monstrous, I doubt not,&rdquo; put in young Burney, now that he had the chance.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;All that I am uneasy about is the interpretation that she may put upon
-      your sudden flight,&rdquo; said Garrick. &ldquo;You have, you will readily allow, sir,
-      placed her in a somewhat difficult position at the Wells. While everyone
-      who is anyone has been offering you congratulations upon the match, and a
-      double portion to the lady, strange inquiries may be made as to your
-      disappearance from the Wells; and she may not be able to give a
-      satisfactory explanation at a moment's notice.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Egad! I never thought of that, sir,&rdquo; said Mr. Kendal, after a pause. &ldquo;I
-      fear that I have placed her in a very awkward position.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Ay, sir; and the consequences may be that she will be snapped up by some
-      adventurous person before you can put your fate to the test,&rdquo; said the
-      naval man, raising a warning finger. &ldquo;I have heard of ladies throwing
-      themselves into the arms of the next comer out of sheer chagrin at being
-      disappointed by the man on whom they had set their affections.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That is a possibility that should not be neglected,&rdquo; said Garrick. &ldquo;But
-      it was only on Monday that you fled. By rapid posting you may yet prevent
-      such a calamity.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      He was beginning to tire of his game now that he had succeeded so well in
-      it and so easily. The fooling of the man who had so completely succumbed
-      to his art had no further interest for him. He only wanted to get rid of
-      him. He was as capricious and as fickle as a child over the toys of its
-      nursery.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I shall lose no moment, be assured,&rdquo; said Mr. Kendal. &ldquo;I may still be in
-      time. My hope in this direction is increased when I remember that the lady
-      has been a widow for some years&mdash;to be exact, without being
-      uncomplimentary, nine years. I remember when Mr. Nash died. 'Twas of
-      pleurisy.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Do not reckon too confidently on that, sir,&rdquo; said young Burney. &ldquo;Nine
-      years have not passed since she faced the company at the Wells, every one
-      of which was surely pointing at her and asking in mute eloquence, 'What
-      has become of Mr. Kendal?' But by posting without delay you may yet
-      retrieve your error. Still, I confess to you that I have known of a lady
-      who, out of sheer impatience at the delay of a lover whom she had hoped to
-      espouse, married his rival after the lapse of twenty-four hours&mdash;ay,
-      and when the belated gentleman arrived just after the ceremony, he
-      furnished the wedding party with a succulent feast. She was the Queen of
-      one of the islands that we visited in the company of Captain Cook, and the
-      cockswain of our galley kept the pickled hand of the belated lover for
-      many a day&mdash;the very hand which he had designed to offer the lady.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;This simple and affecting narrative proves more eloquently than any
-      phrases of mine could possibly do how a man may miss the happiness of his
-      life by a hair's breadth,&rdquo; said Garrick. &ldquo;And the lesson will not be lost
-      upon you, I am certain, sir.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Lud, Mr. Garrick, you do not mean to suggest that&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That the lady may make a meal off you on your late return, sir? Nay, Mr.
-      Kendal. The Wells are still the Wells, not the South Seas; but on the
-      whole I am disposed to believe that the scheme of revenge of the woman
-      scorned is fiercer, though perhaps not, at first sight, so primeval, in
-      the region of Chalybeate Waters than in a cannibal island of the South
-      Seas. Therefore&mdash;there is no time to be lost. Fly to your charmer,
-      sir, and throw yourself at her feet. She may be thinking over some
-      punishment for your having placed her in a false position for some days;
-      but do not mind that. You can always console yourself with the reflection
-      that a rod in pickle is much more satisfactory than a hand in pickle. Fly,
-      my dear friend, fly; every moment is precious. Take my word for it, joy
-      awaits you at the end of your journey.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;'Journeys end in lovers meeting,'&rdquo; remarked Dr. Burney, with a slight
-      suggestion of the setting of the words of the lyric by his old master, Dr.
-      Arne.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      At this moment a servant entered the room.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The Streatham carriage is at the door, sir,&rdquo; he announced.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Dr. Burney rose from his chair.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I am forced to leave you, sir,&rdquo; he said to Mr. Kendal. &ldquo;But really there
-      is naught further to consult on at present, and I know that you are
-      impatient&mdash;it is but natural&mdash;to fly to the side of your
-      charmer.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I am all impatience, sir; but with what words can I express my obligation
-      to you, Doctor, for the benefit of your counsel?&rdquo; cried Mr. Kendal.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Dr. Burney smiled.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Nay, dear sir, I am but the lessee of the theatre where the comedy has
-      been played,&rdquo; said he; and he had good reason for feeling that he had
-      defined with accuracy the position that he occupied. But Mr. Kendal was
-      thinking too much about himself and the position he occupied to appreciate
-      such <i>nuances</i>.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I knew that I was safe in coming to a friend of Mr. Greville,&rdquo; he said.
-      &ldquo;I care not if, as you suggest, you have become Mr. Garrick's successor at
-      Drury Lane, though I thought that Mr. Sheridan&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Zounds, sir, you are never going to wait to discuss theatre matters,&rdquo;
-       cried Garrick. &ldquo;Dr. Burney has been exercising his powers of oratory in
-      vain upon you for this half hour if you tarry even to thank him. Post,
-      sir, post at once to Tunbridge Wells, and send Dr. Burney your thanks when
-      you have put the momentous question to the lady. Go, sir, without the
-      pause of a moment, and good luck attend you.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Good luck attend you! Keep up your heart, sir: the lady may refuse you
-      after all,&rdquo; said young Burney; but the poor gentleman who was being
-      hurried away was too much flurried to be able to grasp the young man's
-      innuendo, though one could see by the look that came to his face that he
-      had an uneasy impression that Lieutenant Burney's good wishes had not been
-      happily expressed. The great thing, however, was that he was at the other
-      side of the door, calling out his obligations to everyone, and striving to
-      shake hands with them all at once and yet preserve the security of his
-      hat, which he had tucked under his arm. So excited was he that he was only
-      restrained at the last moment from mounting the Thrales' carriage which
-      was awaiting Dr. Burney, and even when his mistake was explained to him,
-      he took off his hat to the splendid footman who had guarded the door of
-      the vehicle.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      In the room where the comedy had been played, Garrick and Lieutenant
-      Burney had thrown themselves into chairs with roars of laughter, when Dr.
-      Burney returned from the hall, carrying his hat and cane. He was scarcely
-      smiling.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You have played a pretty prank upon an inoffensive gentleman, the pair of
-      you!&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;I am ashamed that my house has been used by you for so
-      base a purpose! The poor gentleman!&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Psha! my dear Doctor, make your mind easy; the lady will teach that
-      coxcomb a lesson that will be of advantage to him for the rest of his
-      life,&rdquo; said Garrick. &ldquo;He has been the laughingstock of the Wells for the
-      past fortnight, and no one laughed louder than the Widow Nash. She will
-      bundle him out of her presence before he has had time to rise from his
-      marrow-bones&mdash;he does not find the process a rapid one, I assure you.
-      Oh, he was her <i>bete noire</i> even when he was most civil to her.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And it was you who concocted that plot of getting all your friends&mdash;Mrs.
-      Cholmondeley, Mrs. Thrale and the rest&mdash;to make a fool of him,
-      driving him away from the Wells to encounter a more irresistible pair of
-      mocking demons in this room!&rdquo; said Burney. &ldquo;You cannot deny it, my friend,
-      I know your tricks but too well.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I swear to you that I had no hope of encountering him in this house, my
-      dear Doctor,&rdquo; said Garrick. &ldquo;I give you my word that I had laid my plans
-      quite differently. My plot was a far more elaborate one, and Polly
-      Cholmondeley had agreed to take part in it, as well as Dick Sheridan. They
-      will be disappointed to learn that it has miscarried. Who could guess that
-      he should come to you of all men in the world, Doctor? He has never been
-      one of your intimates.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Only when I was living with Mr. Greville had we more than a superficial
-      acquaintance,&rdquo; replied Burney. &ldquo;But that does not make me the less ashamed
-      of having lent myself to your nefarious project. And you, James, you threw
-      yourself with gusto into the fooling of the unhappy man&mdash;and woman
-      too&mdash;and woman too, I repeat.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Pray do not distress yourself on her account, Doctor. She will send him
-      off with a flea in his ear by to-morrow night, and she will take care to
-      pose as the insulted widow of Mr. Nash, whose memory is dear to her,&rdquo; said
-      Garrick.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Will she, indeed?&rdquo; said Burney. &ldquo;David Garrick, you are the greatest
-      actor that has ever lived in England&mdash;probably in the world&mdash;but
-      you are a poor comedian compared with such as are at work upon our daily
-      life: we call them Circumstance, and Accident, and Coincidence. You know
-      the couplet, I doubt not:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br />
-    </p>
-    <p class="indent15">
-      ' Men are the sport of circumstances when
-    </p>
-    <p class="indent15">
-      The circumstances seem the sport of men.'
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br />
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      You have sounded the depths of human impulses, so far as your plummet
-      allows you, and womankind seems to you an open book&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;An illuminated missal, with the prayers done in gold and the Lessons for
-      the day in the most roseate tint, Doctor.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And the Responses all of a kind&mdash;the same in one book as another?
-      But I make bold to believe, my friend, that every woman is a separate
-      volume, of which only one copy has been printed; and, moreover, that every
-      separate volume of woman is sealed, so that anyone who fancies he knows
-      all that is bound up between the covers, when he has only glanced at the
-      binding, makes a mistake.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Admirably put, sir, and, I vow, with fine philosophy,&rdquo; said Garrick. &ldquo;But
-      what imports this nomination of a woman at the present moment, Doctor?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Its import is that you are over sanguine in your assurance that Mrs.
-      Nash, widow, will reject Mr. Kendal, bachelor, when he offers her his hand
-      after a dusty journey; and so good day to you, David Garrick, and I pray
-      you to spend the rest of the day in the study of the history of those
-      women who have opened the leaves of their lives a little way before the
-      eyes of mankind.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      He had left the room and was within the waiting carriage and driving away
-      before his son remarked:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Mr. Garrick, it seems to me that my good father has spoken the wisest
-      words that you or I have heard to-day or for many a day.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And i' faith, James, it seems to me that that remark of yours is the
-      second wisest that has been uttered in this room,&rdquo; said Garrick.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      He went away without a further word&mdash;without even taking his leave of
-      the two young women and their stepmother, who herself had been a widow
-      before she had married Dr. Burney. He had once believed that nothing a
-      woman&mdash;young or old&mdash;could do would surprise him; for some
-      reason or other he was not now quite so confident as he had been. But he
-      certainly did not think that one of the greatest surprises of the century
-      should be due to the demure young woman who seemed the commonplace
-      daughter of a very ordinary household, and who at the moment of his
-      departure was darning a small hole in a kitchen table-cloth, under the
-      superintendence of her admirable stepmother.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER V
-    </h2>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>N the course of
-      the morning Esther, the married daughter of the Bumey family, called at
-      the house in St. Martin's Street. Esther, or as she was usually alluded to
-      by her sisters, Hetty or Hettina, was handsome and accomplished. She had
-      been married for some years to her cousin, Charles Rousseau Burney, who
-      was a musician, and they lived and enjoyed living in an atmosphere of
-      music. Her father took care that she was never likely to be asphyxiated;
-      their atmosphere would never become attenuated so long as they lived, as
-      they did, close to St. Martin's Street. He was well aware of the fact that
-      his Hetty's duets with her husband&mdash;&ldquo;matrimonial duets&rdquo; they were
-      called by Fanny in some of her letters&mdash;and also with her sister
-      Charlotte, served to attract many distinguished visitors and profitable
-      patrons to his house; he never forgot that profitable patrons and
-      patronesses are always attracted by distinguished visitors. When one finds
-      oneself in the company of distinguished people, one naturally feels a
-      distinguished person also.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Moreover, Dr. Burney knew perfectly well that when ambitious patrons and
-      patronesses were made aware of the success which he had achieved in
-      respect of his daughters, they were all ready to implore of him to spare
-      some of his valuable time to give lessons to themselves, seeing no reason
-      why, with his assistance, they should not reach the level of his two
-      musical daughters. He conducted his teaching on the principle which brings
-      fortunes to the Parisian modiste, who takes good care that her mannequins
-      are good-looking and of a fine figure, knowing that the visitors to the
-      showrooms have no doubt, no matter how little Nature has done for their
-      own features or figures, that in the robes of the mannequins they will
-      appear equally fascinating.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The adoption of this system in the Burney household operated extremely
-      well, and Dr. Burney had for several years enjoyed the proceeds of his
-      cultivation of the musical tastes of the most influential clientèle in
-      London. In addition, the greatest singers in Europe, knowing that there
-      was always an influential <i>assistance</i> to be found at Dr. Burney's
-      little concerts in St. Martin's Street, were greatly pleased to contribute
-      to the entertainment, for love, what they were in the habit of receiving
-      large sums for from an impresario. Those Italian operatic artists most
-      notorious for the extravagance of their demands when appearing in public,
-      were pushing each other aside, so to speak, to be allowed to sing at Dr.
-      Burney's, and really upon more than one occasion the contest between the
-      generosity of a pair of the most distinguished of these singers must have
-      been somewhat embarrassing to Dr. Burney. They were clearly singing
-      against each other; and one of them, who invariably received fifty guineas
-      for every contribution she made to a programme in public, insisted on
-      singing no fewer than five songs, &ldquo;all for love&rdquo; (and to prove her
-      superiority to her rival), upon a certain occasion at the Burneys'; so
-      that really the little company ran a chance of being suffocated beneath
-      the burden of flowers, as it were&mdash;the never-ending <i>fioriture</i>
-      of these generous artists&mdash;and Dr. Burney found himself in the
-      position of the lion-tamer who runs a chance of being overwhelmed by the
-      caresses of the carnivora who rush to lick his hands.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The result of all this was extremely gratifying, and eminently profitable.
-      Had Dr. Burney not been a great musician and shown by the publication of
-      the first volume of the greatest History of Music the world had yet
-      received, that he was worthy of being placed in the foremost ranks of
-      scientific musicians, he would have run a chance of being placed only a
-      little higher than the musical Cornelys of Soho Square, who gave their
-      concerts, and entertained their friends, and made quite a reputation for
-      some years before bankruptcy overtook them and the precincts of the Fleet
-      became their headquarters.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And now the beautiful Esther Burney was toying with the contents of her
-      sister Fanny's work-basket, talking about her husband and his prospects,
-      and inquiring what Mr. Garrick and James had to talk about in the room
-      downstairs.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Pray speak in French to Fanny,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;I cannot get Lottie
-      and Susan to do so as frequently as I could wish. You must remember that
-      poor Fanny has had none of your advantages, and I do not want her to be
-      talked of as the dunce of the family. She really is not a dunce, you know;
-      in spite of her bad sight she really has done some very pretty sewing.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I have seen it,&rdquo; said Esther. &ldquo;She works very neatly&mdash;more neatly
-      than any of us.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Fanny blushed and smiled her thanks to her sister for the compliment.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What else is there left for me to do but to give all my attention to my
-      needle?&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I constantly feel that I am the dunce of the family&mdash;you
-      are all so clever.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It is well for many families that they include one useful member,&rdquo; said
-      her stepmother in a way that suggested her complete agreement with the
-      girl's confession that she was the dunce of the family. A mother's
-      acknowledgment that a girl is either useful or good-natured is practically
-      an announcement that she is neither pretty nor accomplished.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And Fanny has many friends,&rdquo; continued Mrs. Burney indulgently.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Which shows how kind people are, even to a dunce,&rdquo; said Fanny, not
-      bitterly, but quite good-humouredly.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But I am not sure that she should spend so much of her time writing to
-      Mr. Crisp,&rdquo; said the elder Mrs. Burney to the younger.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, poor Daddy Crisp!&rdquo; cried Fanny. &ldquo;Pray, mother, do not cut him off
-      from his weekly budget of news. If I fail to send him a letter he is
-      really disconsolate. 'Tis my letters that keep him still in touch with the
-      life of the town.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, well, my dear Fanny, I shall not deprive you of your Daddy Crisp,&rdquo;
-       said her stepmother. &ldquo;Poor Mr. Crisp must not be left to the tender
-      mercies of Susan or Lottie. He is most hospitable, and his house at
-      Chessington makes a pleasant change for us now and again, and he took a
-      great fancy to you from the first.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Daddy Crisp was always Fanny's special friend,&rdquo; said Esther. &ldquo;And I am
-      sure that it is good practice for Fanny to write to him.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, she has long ago given up that childish nonsense,&rdquo; cried the mother.
-      &ldquo;Poor Fanny made a pretty bonfire of her scribblings, and she has shown no
-      weakness in that way since she took my advice in regard to them.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Fanny was blushing furiously and giving all her attention to her work.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;She has still a sense of the guilt that attaches to the writing of
-      stories, though I am sure that no one in this house remembers it against
-      her,&rdquo; said Esther with a laugh, as Fanny's blushes increased. &ldquo;But indeed
-      I had not in my mind Mr. Crisp's advantage to her in this way, but only in
-      regard to her correspondence. She has become quite an expert letter-writer
-      since he induced her to send him her budget, and indeed I think that good
-      letter-writing is as much of an accomplishment in these careless days as
-      good singing&mdash;that is ordinary good singing&mdash;the good singing
-      that we hear from some of father's pupils&mdash;Queenie Thrale, <i>par
-      exemple!</i>&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Your father is a good teacher, but the best teacher in the world cannot
-      endow with a good singing-voice anyone who has not been so gifted by
-      Nature,&rdquo; said the elder lady. &ldquo;'Tis somewhat different, to be sure, in
-      regard to correspondence, and I do not doubt that Fanny's practice in
-      writing to good Mr. Crisp will one day cause her to be regarded as one of
-      the best letter-writers in the family, and that is something. It is a
-      ladylike accomplishment, and one that is worth excelling in; it gives
-      innocent pleasure to so many of her friends who live at a distance; and
-      your father can always obtain plenty of franks, Mr. Charmier and Mr.
-      Thrale are very obliging.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Fanny was a little fidgety while her eldest sister and her stepmother were
-      discussing her in a tone of indulgence which was more humiliating than
-      open reprobation would have been. But she knew that the truth was, that
-      from her earliest years she was looked on as the dunce of the family, and
-      she was so morbidly self-conscious that she was quite ready to accept
-      their estimate of her. The silent member of a musical family soon finds
-      out how she is looked on by the others; not with unkindness&mdash;quite
-      the contrary&mdash;but only as if she were to be slightly pitied for her
-      deficiency. But she had a secret or two, the treasuring of which in her
-      heart prevented her from having any feeling of humiliation in the presence
-      of her splendid sister, whom all the world sought to attract to their
-      houses, especially when there were guests anxious to be entertained by the
-      sweet singing of a handsome young woman with a very presentable young
-      husband. Fanny had her secrets and cherished them with a fearful joy, for
-      she knew that any day might remove either or both of them, and then there
-      would be nothing left for her in the household but to put her heart into
-      her needlework. But one cannot do needlework without needles, and if she
-      were to put her heart into her work, and if every needle had a point, the
-      result would, she knew, be a good many prickings.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      She trusted that she might never be condemned to put her heart into her
-      needlework.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER VI
-    </h2>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HEN Lieutenant
-      Burney sauntered into the room and greeted Esther; but when Fanny inquired
-      with some eagerness what had been the result of Mr. Garrick's fooling of
-      poor Mr. Kendal, James was by no means so glib or amusing as Fanny
-      expected him to be.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Psha!&rdquo; he cried; &ldquo;that Mr. Kendal is not worth powder and shot&mdash;at
-      least not the weight of metal that Mr. Garrick can discharge&mdash;not in
-      a broadside&mdash;Mr. Garrick is not given to broadsides&mdash;they are
-      too clumsy for him&mdash;he is like Luke Boscawen, our chief gunner; he
-      had a contempt for what he was used to term a blustering broadside, having
-      a liking only for the working of his little brass swivel. He could do
-      anything that he pleased with his little swivel. 'Ping!' it would go, when
-      he had squinted along the sights, and the object he aimed at half a mile
-      away&mdash;sometimes so small that we could scarce see it from our foretop&mdash;down
-      it went. Boscawen could do what he pleased with it&mdash;the blunt nose of
-      a whale rising to spout a mile away&mdash;the stem of a cocoa-nut palm on
-      one of the islands when we were not sure of the natives and there was no
-      time to climb the tree&mdash;that is the marksmanship of Mr. Garrick, and
-      your Mr. Kendal was not worthy of an exercise of so much skill.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Nobody seems too insignificant to be made a fool of by Mr. Garrick,&rdquo; said
-      Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;He is as happy when he has made a gruesome face and
-      frightened a maid with a mop at the doorstep, as when he has stricken us
-      with awe when the ghost enters in <i>Hamlet</i>, or when Macbeth declaims
-      of the horror of the curse of sleeplessness that has been cast on him.
-      That is why I said before he arrived that I was not sure that his
-      influence upon you all is for good. He makes one lose one's sense of the
-      right proportions and realities of life. Now is not that so, Hetty? I make
-      no appeal to Fanny, for I know that she has ever been devoted to Mr.
-      Garrick. Is it not true that she was used to frighten poor Lottie before
-      she was ten by showing how Mr. Garrick frowned as the Duke of Gloster?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I know that Fanny murdered us all in turn in our beds, assuring us that
-      we were the Princes in the Tower, or some less real characters invented by
-      herself,&rdquo; said Esther. &ldquo;But indeed if James tells us that Mr. Garrick's
-      gun practice smashed the cocoa-nut that serves Mr. Kendal as a head, I
-      should not grieve. Tell us what happened, James.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, 'twas naught worth words to describe,&rdquo; said James. &ldquo;The man came to
-      take counsel of Daddy in regard to a jest that Mr. Garrick had, unknown to
-      his victim, played off upon him, and Mr. Garrick so worked upon him that
-      Daddy had no chance to speak. But Mr. Garrick made fools of us as well,
-      for I give you my word, though we were in with him in his jest, he had us
-      blubbering like boobies when he laid his hand on the fellow's shoulder and
-      spoke nonsense in a voice quivering and quavering as though he were at the
-      point of breaking down.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Mrs. Burney the elder shook her head.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That is what I do not like&mdash;that trifling with sacred things,&rdquo; she
-      said. &ldquo;'Tis not decent in a private house&mdash;I would not tolerate it
-      even in a playhouse, and I see that you are of my opinion, James, though
-      you may have been dragged into the abetting of Mr. Garrick in whatever mad
-      scheme he had set himself upon perfecting.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, for that matter we are all sorry when we have been merry at the
-      expense of another, even though he be an elderly coxcomb such as that Mr.
-      Kendal,&rdquo; said James. &ldquo;But enough&mdash;more than enough&mdash;of coxcomb
-      Kendal! Tell us of the Duchess's concert, Hetty. Were the matrimonial
-      duets as successful as usual?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Esther, who had been disappointed that her stepmother had not yet said a
-      word about the concert of the previous night given by the Dowager Duchess
-      of Portland, at which she and her husband had performed, brightened up at
-      her brother's question.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The concert was well enough,&rdquo; she replied with an affectation of
-      carelessness. &ldquo;'Twas no better than many that have taken place under this
-      roof. Her Grace and her grandees were very kind to us&mdash;we had enough
-      plaudits to turn the head of Gabrielli herself.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, the Gabrielli's head has been turned so frequently that one can never
-      tell when it sits straight on her shoulders,&rdquo; said James.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;She was <i>very</i> civil to us last evening,&rdquo; said Esther. &ldquo;Indeed, she
-      was civil to everyone until the enchanter Rauzzini sang the solo from <i>Piramo
-      e Tisbe</i> and swept the company off their feet. The poor Gabrielli had
-      no chance against Rauzzini.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Especially in a company that numbered many ladies,&rdquo; said James, with a
-      laugh. &ldquo;You remember what Sir Joshua told us that Dr. Goldsmith had once
-      said of Johnson?&mdash;that in his argument he was like the highwayman:
-      when his pistol missed fire he knocked one down with the butt.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I heard that upon one occasion Dr. Johnson knocked a man down with a
-      heavy book, but I cannot imagine his ever firing a pistol,&rdquo; remarked Mrs.
-      Burney, who had been used, when the wife of a straightforward merchant of
-      Lynn, to take every statement literally, and had not yet become accustomed
-      to the involved mode of speaking of the brilliant young Burneys.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You mean that Rauzzini&mdash;I don't quite perceive what you do mean by
-      your reference to Dr. Goldsmith's apt humour,&rdquo; said Esther.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I only mean that among such a company as assembled at the Duchess's, if
-      he missed fire with his singing, he glanced around with those dark eyes of
-      his and the ladies went down before him by the score,&rdquo; replied James. &ldquo;Do
-      not I speak the truth, Fanny?&rdquo; he added, turning quickly to where Fanny
-      was searching with her short-sighted eyes close to her work-basket for
-      some material that seemed to be missing.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But she had clearly heard her brother's question, for she did not need to
-      raise her head or to ask him to repeat it.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, we are all the slaves of the nobil' signor,&rdquo; she said, and continued
-      her search in the basket.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;From the way he talked to us last night it might be fancied that it was
-      he who was the captive,&rdquo; said Esther.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And I do not doubt that he is living in a state of constant captivity,&rdquo;
-       laughed James. &ldquo;Ay, or I should rather term it inconstant captivity, for I
-      dare swear that those black eyes of his do a deal of roving in the course
-      of a year&mdash;nay, in the course of a day. These singer fellows feel
-      that 'tis due to their art, this moving the hearts of their hearers, by
-      moving their own affections from heart to heart. The Rauzzini is, I fancy,
-      like one of the splendid butterflies we came upon in the Straits,
-      fluttering from flower to flower.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I have heard no stories of his inconstancy, even from the Gabrielli when
-      she was most envious of his plaudits,&rdquo; said Esther, and she glanced at her
-      sister, who was earnestly threading a needle.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You goose!&rdquo; cried James to Esther. &ldquo;Do you suppose that Gabrielli would
-      tell you anything so greatly complimentary to him? In these days you
-      cannot pay a man a greater compliment than to compare him to the fickle
-      butterfly. You see that suggests a welcome from every flower.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I protest that it is to sailors I have heard most compliments of that
-      sort paid,&rdquo; laughed Esther, and then, putting herself in a singing
-      attitude before him, she lilted most delightfully:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br />
-    </p>
-    <p class="indent20">
-      &ldquo;Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more!
-    </p>
-    <p class="indent20">
-      Men were deceivers ever,
-    </p>
-    <p class="indent20">
-      One foot on sea-
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br />
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;ha, ha, brother James!
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br />
-    </p>
-    <p class="indent20">
-      and one on shore,
-    </p>
-    <p class="indent20">
-      To one thing constant never.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br />
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Now be advised by me, dear James, and do not attribute even in a cynical
-      way, the vice of inconstancy to a singer, until you have left the Navy.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I did not allude to it as a vice&mdash;rather as a virtue,&rdquo; said James.
-      &ldquo;Just think of the hard fate of any girl to have such a person as a singer
-      ever by her side!&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      He easily evaded the rush down upon him made by Hetty, and used his
-      nautical skill to sail to the windward of her, as it were, until he had
-      reached the door, whence he sent a parting shot at her.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You surely don't think that I hinted that your spouse was a singer,&rdquo; he
-      cried. &ldquo;A singer! Oh, lud! I should be swaying away on all top ropes if I
-      were to call the matrimonial duets singing.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      He gave a shout of laughter as he caught the ball of wool which Esther
-      threw at him, having picked it up from her stepmother's work-table. He
-      returned it with a better aim, and before his sister could get a hand on
-      it, he had shut the door, only opening it a little space a few seconds
-      later to put in his head with a mocking word, withdrawing it at once, and
-      then his foot was heard upon the stair, while he gave a sailor's version
-      of Mr. Garrick's patriotic naval song:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br />
-    </p>
-    <p class="indent15">
-      Come, cheer up, my lads, 'tis to glory we steer.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br />
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;He has gone before I had a chance of asking him to take a message to the
-      cheesemonger,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney, calling out to him while she hurried
-      after him out of the room.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER VII
-    </h2>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE moment the two
-      sisters were alone, the elder said quickly in a low voice, leaning across
-      the table:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;We had a long talk with Signor Rauzzini, my dearest Fanny. I could not,
-      of course, tell you before mother.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You mentioned his name; but were you discreet?&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;I think
-      mother felt that you were going too far when you referred to his eyes.
-      Mother most surely believes that the dark eyes of an Italian form a topic
-      that should not be discussed except by our elders, and then only with
-      bated breath and a fearful glance around lest a word should be overheard.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;His eyes&mdash;you know his eyes, Fanny?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; said Fanny, with an inflection that was between a sigh and a moan.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You should have seen them while he spoke of you,&rdquo; said Esther. &ldquo;Talk of
-      flashes of lightning!&mdash;Dear child, it seemed so singular to us that a
-      mite like you should inspire a grand passion in such a man. You are not
-      angry with us, I know, but it was so indeed.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why should I feel angry with you for feeling just what I do myself, only
-      more intensely,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;Tis one of the greatest mysteries of life&mdash;the
-      only mystery of life that I have yet faced&mdash;why a man who is as
-      handsome as an archangel, and who possesses a voice that an archangel
-      might envy, should so much as glance at an insignificant young woman like
-      myself! Oh! 'tis no wonder that the notion amused you, dear Hetty.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It only diverted us for a time, I assure you, my Fanny; it did not take
-      us very long to perceive how it was no laughing matter, but, on the
-      contrary, a very serious matter. Signor Rauzzini is, as I said, an
-      enchanter, but do you not think that 'tis somewhat dangerous to&mdash;to&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;To play with fire? That is what is on your mind, dear&mdash;to allow the
-      fire of his Roman eyes to play about me? Dangerous? I admit that wherever
-      there is fire there is danger, especially when it flashes from such eyes.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I am glad that you need no warning, child. As your elder sister I am
-      pleased that&mdash;that&mdash;but no one in the house seems to think for a
-      moment that the favour he has so distinctly shown to you can mean
-      anything. Indeed, until last night, neither Charles nor I could believe&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Fanny laughed, half closing her short-sighted eyes with a curious
-      expression as she looked at her sister.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It is only natural, my dear Hettina,&rdquo; she said.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Have I ever ventured to suggest that I am other than the dunce of the
-      family?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You have always been absurdly humble, Fanny, and I have never hesitated
-      to say so,&rdquo; cried Esther. &ldquo;I am sure that none of us could have made up
-      such clever little pieces to act as you did when we were children. And as
-      for writing, could any of us have so neatly copied out the padre's History
-      as you did last year? Mr. Crisp, too&mdash;he never takes pleasure in any
-      letters of the family except what you write for him.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;All perfectly true, my Hettina,&rdquo; replied Fanny. &ldquo;But where am I when the
-      house is filled with visitors? You know that I am nobody&mdash;that all I
-      pray for with all my heart is that no one will take any notice of me, and
-      I think I can say that my prayer is nearly always granted.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That is because you are so dreadfully&mdash;so absurdly shy,&rdquo; said
-      Esther. &ldquo;You are the little mouse that is evermore on the look out for a
-      hole into which you can creep and be safe from the observation of all
-      eyes. You are ever trying to escape, unless when Mr. Garrick is here.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Dear Hettina, I know my place&mdash;that is all. I have weak eyes, but
-      quick ears, and I have heard strangers ask, when they have heard you sing
-      and Susan play, who the little short-sighted girl in the corner is and
-      what she means to do for the entertainment of the company. When they are
-      assured that I am one of the clever Burney family they whisper an
-      incredulous 'No?' They cannot believe that so insignificant a person as
-      myself can be one of you.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Tis your morbid self-consciousness, Fanny, that suggests so much to you.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, no; I was the dunce from the first. You know that while you could
-      read any book with ease when you were six, I did not even know my letters
-      when I was eight. Don't you remember how James made a jest of my thirst
-      for knowledge by pretending to teach me the alphabet with the page turned
-      upside down? And when you had gone to school at Paris and it was my turn
-      as the next eldest, the wise padre perceived in a moment that the money
-      would be much better spent upon Susan and Lottie, and they went to be
-      educated while I remained at home in ignorance? The dear padre was right:
-      he knew that I should have been miserable among bright girls away from
-      home.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      There was a pause before the elder sister said quite pathetically:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;My poor Fanny! I wonder if you have not been treated shabbily among us.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Not. I, my Hettina. I have always been treated fairly. I have had as many
-      treats as any of you; when you were learning so much in Paris I have been
-      learning quite a number of things at home. And one of the most important
-      things I learned was that so brilliant a person as Signor Rauzzini could
-      never be happy if married to so insignificant a person as Fanny Burney.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Esther gave a little sigh of relief.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Indeed I think that your conclusion is a right one, dear,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;We
-      both came to the conclusion&mdash;Charles and I&mdash;that it would be a
-      huge misfortune if you should allow yourself to be attracted by the
-      glamour that attaches to the appearance of such a man as the Rauzzini,
-      though, mind you, I believe that he honestly fancies himself in love with
-      you&mdash;oh, he made no disguise of it in talking with us last night. But
-      I hoped that you would be sensible.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, in the matter of sense I am the equal of anyone in the family,&rdquo; said
-      Fanny, laughing. &ldquo;That I mean to make my one accomplishment&mdash;good
-      sense. That is the precious endowment of the dunce of the clever family&mdash;good
-      sense; the one who stands next to the dunce in the lack of accomplishments
-      should be endowed with good nature. Good sense and good nature go hand in
-      hand in plain grey taffeta, not down the primrose paths of life, but along
-      the King's highway of every day, where they run no chance of jostling the
-      simple foot-passengers or exciting the envy of any by the flaunting of
-      feathers in their face. Good sense and good nature are best satisfied when
-      they attract no attention, but pass on to obscurity, smiling at the
-      struggle of others to be accounted persons of importance.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Then you have indeed made up your mind to marry Mr. Barlowe?&rdquo; cried
-      Esther.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Fanny laughed enigmatically.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Does it not mean rather that I have made up my mind not to marry Mr.
-      Barlowe?&rdquo; she cried.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Esther looked puzzled: she was puzzled, and that was just what Fanny meant
-      her to be.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But then she looked piqued, as elder sisters do when puzzled by the words
-      or the acts of the younger. What business have younger sisters puzzling
-      their elders? Their doing so suggests pertness when the elders are
-      unmarried, but sheer insubordination when they are married; and Esther was
-      by no means willing at any time to abrogate the privileges of her position
-      as a married woman.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I protest that I do not understand your meaning, Fanny,&rdquo; she said,
-      raising her chin in a way that gave her head a dignified poise. There was
-      also a chill dignity in the tone of her voice.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Dear Hettina, I ask your pardon,&rdquo; cried Fanny quickly. &ldquo;I fear that I
-      replied to you with a shameful unreasonableness. But indeed I am not sure
-      that you had reason on your side when you assumed that because I was ready
-      to acknowledge that it would not mean happiness to our dear Signor
-      Rauzzini to marry an insignificant person like myself, I was therefore
-      prepared to throw myself into the arms of Mr. Barlowe.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I fancied that&mdash;that&mdash;but you may have another suitor in your
-      mind whose name you have not mentioned to anyone.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why should it be necessary for me to have a suitor of any kind? Is it not
-      possible to conceive of the existence of a young woman without a row of
-      suitors in the background? I admit that the 'Odyssey' of Homer&mdash;you
-      remember how I used to listen to your reading of Mr. Broome's translation
-      to mother&mdash;would be shorn of much of its interest but for that
-      background of suitors in one of the last books, but&mdash;well, my dear
-      sister, I hold that the alternative song of life to the matrimonial duet
-      is the spinster's solo, and it does not seem to me to be quite devoid of
-      interest.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, I took it for granted&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; began Esther, when Fanny broke
-      in upon her.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, I know what all the happily wedded ones take for granted,&rdquo; she
-      cried. &ldquo;You assume that the wedded life is the only one worth living; but
-      as we are told in the Bible that there is one glory of the sun and another
-      of the moon, so I hold that I am justified in believing that if matrimony
-      be celestial, spinsterhood is terrestrial, but a glory all the same, and
-      not unattractive to me. I may be wise enough to content myself with the
-      subdued charm of moonlight if it so be that I am shut off from the midday
-      splendour of matrimony.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Esther did not laugh in the least as did her sister when she had spoken
-      with an air of finality. She only made a little motion with her shoulders
-      suggesting a shrug, while she said:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I hope you will succeed in convincing mother that your views are the best
-      for the household; but I think you will have some difficulty in doing so,
-      considering what a family of girls we are.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I do not doubt that mother will be on the side of immediate matrimony and
-      poor Mr. Barlowe,&rdquo; said Fanny.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why poor Mr. Barlowe?&rdquo; cried Esther. &ldquo;He is a young man of excellent
-      principles, and he has never given his parents a day's trouble. It is
-      understood that if he marries sensibly he will be admitted to a
-      partnership in the business, so that&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Principles and a partnership make for matrimonial happiness, I doubt
-      not,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;And I doubt not that Dr. Fell had both excellent
-      principles and an excellent practice; still someone has recorded in
-      deathless verse that she&mdash;I assume the sex&mdash;did not like that
-      excellent man.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And you do not like Mr. Barlowe on the same mysterious grounds?&rdquo; said
-      Hetty.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Nay, I am not so unreasonable, I hope,&rdquo; replied Fanny. &ldquo;But&mdash;but&mdash;dear
-      sister, I remember how I thought that the song of the linnet which was in
-      our little garden at Lynn was the loveliest strain of the grove, and such
-      was my belief until I awoke one night at Chessington and heard the
-      nightingale.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You are puzzling&mdash;singularly puzzling today,&rdquo; said Esther frowning.
-      &ldquo;You have started two or three mystifying parables already. You told me
-      some time ago as a great secret that you had been renewing your
-      story-writing, in spite of your having burnt all that you had written for
-      our edification&mdash;all that story&mdash;what was its name? The heroine
-      was one Caroline Evelyn. You were ever an obedient child, or you would not
-      have sacrificed your offspring at the bidding of our new mother, though
-      the advice that she gave you was good, if you have not quite adhered to
-      it. Novel writing is not for young ladies any more than novel reading, and
-      certainly talking in parables is worse still. Well, I have no more time to
-      spend over your puzzles.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You would not find their solution to repay you, my dear,&rdquo; said Fanny.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Still, I am pleased to learn that you take a sensible view of Signor
-      Rauzzini and his heroics&mdash;but, indeed, I cannot see that Mr. Barlowe
-      should not be considered, with his prospects&mdash;his father is a mercer
-      in gold and silver lace, as you know&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I have heard so&mdash;it is a profitable trade, I believe.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;None more so. It is impossible to believe that a time will ever come when
-      gold and silver lace will cease to be worn by gentlemen.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That would be an evil day for England as well as for Messieurs Barlowe,
-      <i>père et fils</i>. But thank heaven it is not yet in sight. Good
-      morning, dear sister; and be assured you have my thanks for your advice.
-      But mind you keep my little secret about the writing. Good-bye. You can
-      face mother boldly, knowing that you have carried out her commission to
-      the letter, and very neatly and discreetly into the bargain.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I would not have done so if her views had not been mine also; as for your
-      writing&mdash;you may depend on my keeping your secret. But you will have
-      to get the padre's permission to have it printed&mdash;that's something
-      still in the far future, I suppose;&rdquo;&mdash;and the elder sister stooped to
-      kiss the younger&mdash;Fanny was not up to the shoulder of the beautiful
-      and stately Esther.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And so they parted.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER VIII
-    </h2>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>ANNY BURNEY had
-      been forced, for the first time, to make her sister aware of the fact that
-      she knew she was looked on as the dunce of the brilliant Burney family.
-      She could see that her doing so had startled her sister, for neither
-      Esther nor any of the other girls had ever suggested to her that they
-      thought of her as being on a different level from themselves, though it
-      was tacitly allowed that it was a great pity that Fanny did not emulate
-      them in taking pains to shine as it was expected the children of that
-      estimable master of music, Dr. Burney, should shine, so as to make the
-      house in that narrow little street off Leicester Fields attractive to its
-      many distinguished visitors.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Fanny had truly defined her place in the household. She had recognized her
-      place for several years; but there was not the least suggestion of rancour
-      in her tone when talking to her brilliant elder sister, for the simple
-      reason that there was no bitterness in her heart against any member of the
-      family for being cleverer than herself. Fanny took pride in the
-      accomplishments of her sisters, and was quite content with her position in
-      relation to them. She got on well with all of them, because she was fond
-      of them all, and they were all fond of her. She had not rebelled when her
-      father had sent her younger sisters to be educated in Paris, and had
-      allowed her to pick up her own education as best she might in his own
-      library; and it had been a great happiness to her to be allowed the
-      privilege of copying out for the press the first volume of her father's
-      &ldquo;History of Music.&rdquo; It was her stepmother who, finding out that Fanny had
-      what Mrs. Burney called &ldquo;a taste for writing,&rdquo; had suggested that that was
-      the legitimate channel in which such a taste should flow; and it was her
-      stepmother who had induced her to make a bonfire of all her own writings&mdash;the
-      scribblings of her girlhood that represented the foolish errant flow of
-      her &ldquo;taste for writing &ldquo;: and now and again she had a consciousness of her
-      own duplicity in failing to resist the impulse that had come upon her to
-      do some more of what her mother termed her &ldquo;girlish scribbling.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      One of the guilty secrets that Fanny cherished was that when it was
-      believed she was writing her long letters to her old friend Mr. Crisp, she
-      had been composing a novel which was now about to be given to the world;
-      the second was that Signor Rauzzini, the handsome young Roman singer with
-      whom half the fashionable ladies of the town were in love, was in love
-      with her.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      These were two secrets worth the cherishing, she knew; and the thought of
-      them more than compensated her for the reflection that she was the dunce
-      of the family, and that the unconscious tone of patronage adopted toward
-      her by her elder sister and the dreadful compliments paid to her plain
-      sewing, as though plain sewing represented the highest hopes that could
-      reasonably be entertained in regard to her, were only to be looked for in
-      the circumstances.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The two secrets were closely bound up together, she knew. She had the
-      deepest affection for Signor Rauzzini. How could she fail to return the
-      feeling which the whisper of his musical voice had told her he had
-      conceived for her? He loved her in spite of the fact that she was the
-      least attractive member of the family&mdash;in spite of the fact that half
-      the town was at his feet, and that he might have made his choice from
-      among the best. He had chosen her whom no one else had ever noticed, with
-      the exception of her father's old friend, Mr. Crisp, and&mdash;oh, yes
-      (she laughed now, perceiving that she had done an injustice to the other
-      person who had been attracted to her&mdash;mainly, she thought, on account
-      of her reputation for plain sewing)&mdash;a young man named Thomas
-      Barlowe, the excellent son of the well-known mercer of gold and silver
-      lace, in the Poultry!
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Thinking of young Mr. Barlowe by the side of Signor Rauzzini, Fanny
-      laughed again. She had so restricted an opinion of her own attractiveness
-      that the tears actually came into her eyes for having given that derisive
-      laugh as she compared the two young men; and she felt that she had been
-      grossly ungrateful to young Mr. Barlowe; for even young Mr. Barlowe had a
-      right to look above her level for a wife. As the daughter of a simple
-      music master with a large family she could have no endowment so far as
-      worldly goods were concerned; and she knew that the practical parents of
-      young business men, as a rule, looked for their sons to marry, if not
-      great fortunes, at least young women with a few thousands to their names.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      She felt that she had treated the condescending young Mr. Barlowe very
-      badly in laughing at the poor figure he cut by the side of the angelic
-      Roman singer&mdash;she had failed to resist the temptation to call Signor
-      Rauzzini angelic in one of her letters to Mr. Crisp&mdash;and now, in
-      thinking of Mr. Barlowe as a very worthy young man, she was unconsciously
-      relegating him to a hopeless position as a lover. It is not the very
-      worthy young men who are beloved by young women of a romantic temperament:
-      if it were there would be very few romances left. But little Miss Burney
-      desired only to ease the twinges of her conscience for having laughed at
-      the thought of young Tommy Barlowe; and she thought that she had done the
-      right thing in assuring herself that he was a very worthy person.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And then she thought no more about him. She had a feeling that to give
-      another thought to him when she had such a man as Signor Rauzzini to think
-      about, would be a constructive act of treason in regard to Rauzzini. She
-      had received many hints from her stepmother to the effect that all the
-      family considered her to be a very fortunate young woman (all things taken
-      into account) in having a chance of marrying the Thomas who seemed ready
-      to pay his addresses to her; but though quite submissive to her stepmother
-      in household matters, she was ready to face her with the &ldquo;Never!&rdquo; of the
-      avowed rebel in the matter of consenting to wed the highly approved
-      Thomas, and so she dismissed him from her thoughts, in favour of the man
-      whom she loved.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But thinking of the man whom she loved was by no means equivalent to
-      passing into a region of unalloyed happiness. She had mystified her sister
-      by the way in which she had spoken about Signor Rauzzini, and the seal had
-      been put upon the mystery by her frank acknowledgment that she did not
-      think a union between so distinguished a man as Rauzzini and so
-      insignificant a person as herself was likely to be satisfactory.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      She had certainly allowed Hetty to go away believing that this was in her
-      mind; and that was just what was in her mind when her thoughts turned from
-      Thomas, whom she considered so estimable, to Rauzzini, whom she loved. She
-      loved the Roman singer so truly that she had made a resolution never to
-      consent to his marrying anyone so insignificant as she believed herself to
-      be.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      She had no illusions regarding herself. She knew just how good-looking she
-      was; she knew that by the side of any of her sisters she was almost plain;
-      but that she had a pleasing, simple face of a very ordinary type. She knew
-      that she could love with the truest devotion and she could trust herself
-      not to change with time. But she felt that these were not beyond the
-      traits of the ordinary young woman, and that they did not lift her from
-      the level of insignificance to the level of Signor Rauzzini.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      She knew that she was at that moment an insignificant person; and she made
-      no attempt to think of herself as otherwise.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Yes; but she had heard of people&mdash;even young women&mdash;being
-      insignificant one day, and the next springing to a pinnacle of fame to
-      which all eyes looked up. How would it be if she were destined to reach in
-      a moment a position that would place her on a level with the man of her
-      thoughts&mdash;the man whose fame as a singer had caused him to be the
-      centre round which every conversation in the most notable circles turned?
-      Everyone was talking in praise of Rauzzini; and she herself thought of him
-      as occupying a place on a height as far above her as King Cophetua's
-      throne was above the marble steps at the foot of which the beggar maid had
-      crouched; but in her mind there was the possibility that her name might
-      one day be spoken by the world in connection with an achievement that
-      would raise her from the insignificance of Fanny Burney to the importance
-      of Signor Rauzzini, and prevent people from asking what on earth had
-      induced so glorious a person as he to make her his wife!
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      That was the secret dream which filled the imagination of this imaginative
-      young woman&mdash;the same dream as comes to so many young women who have
-      written the last chapter of a book and sent it forth for the world to
-      receive with acclaim&mdash;the dream of fame&mdash;of immortality! She had
-      written a novel and it was about to be given to the world, if the world
-      would have it, and upon its success her happiness depended. If it brought
-      her fame, it would place her by the side of the man whom she loved; but if
-      it failed, then she would remain a person of no significance, and quite
-      unworthy of sharing the honours which were showered upon her lover. She
-      had imagination, and this faculty it was that made her more than doubtful
-      of the success of King Cophetua's rash experiment. She felt sure that King
-      Cophetua had now and again, turning suddenly round, caught one of his
-      courtiers with his tongue in his cheek when his Majesty was entering the
-      throne-room with his shy and insignificant Queen by his side, and that the
-      Queen had occasionally overheard the whispers of her maids of honour, when
-      they did not know she was at hand, asking one another what on earth the
-      King had seen in her that induced him to make her his consort. Little Miss
-      Burney had long ago made up her mind that the union of King Cophetua and
-      his beggar maid was far from being a happy one&mdash;that the King looked
-      around him and saw several princesses of great beauty and quite devoid of
-      shyness who were fully acquainted with the convenances of his court and
-      would not, if he had married any one of them, have made the mistakes which
-      she was sure the young person whom he had elevated had fallen into,
-      causing him constant irritation.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Little Miss Burney had resolved that she would never play the part of a
-      crowned beggar maid. The man whom she loved had won fame for himself, and
-      she would not go to him unless she, too, had at least made such a name for
-      herself as should prevent her from feeling herself in the position of the
-      beggar maid whom King Cophetua had raised to his side. Little Miss Burney
-      resolved that although she could scarcely expect to go to her lover
-      wearing purple robes embroidered with gold, she could, at any rate,
-      refrain from wearing beggars' rags. She had her ambitions, and she felt
-      that they were not ignoble, but that they made for the happiness of the
-      man she loved, and who had been gracious enough to love her&mdash;the
-      least attractive member of the family.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But after she had sat for some time with her hands lying idle on the
-      sempstress' work at which she had been engaged on the departure of her
-      sister&mdash;after her imagination had carried her much farther away than
-      she intended it should, she was sensible of a return to the cold world
-      from which she had soared. Her heart, which had begun to beat quickly when
-      Hetty had told her how the divine Rauzzini had spoken of her, sank within
-      her as she seemed to hear a voice asking who was she that she should hope
-      to reach by the publication of that story which she had been writing by
-      stealth and at odd times during the past three years, even the smallest
-      measure of fame that would compare with that of Signor Rauzzini? What fame
-      attached to the writing of a novel in comparison with that achieved by the
-      enchantment of a singer who had power to move the hearts of men and women
-      as it pleased him? Orpheus&mdash;ah, what fame could compare with the fame
-      of Orpheus, the singer? His was a heaven-sent gift. What was her little
-      talent compared with such a gift? If she had the ability even to make
-      music such as one of her sisters could bring forth from the keys of the
-      piano, she would have a better chance of being accounted worthy of a place
-      beside Signor Rauzzini than if her novel found its way to the shelves of
-      many readers. The writing of a novel was a poor achievement&mdash;nay, in
-      the opinion of a good many people, including her own stepmother&mdash;a
-      most practical woman&mdash;it was something to be ashamed of; and Fanny
-      herself, thinking over all the novels written by women which she herself
-      had read&mdash;most of them surreptitiously&mdash;was disposed to agree
-      with her. That was why she had kept as a secret for more than three years
-      the fact that she was trying to write a novel. Her father knew nothing of
-      it, and her stepmother was equally uninformed. Even her old friend Mr.
-      Crisp, to whom she wrote voluminous letters week after week, and to whom
-      she gave her confidence on many matters, had no suspicion that she had
-      written her novel.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      She had thought it prudent to keep this matter hidden from them, for she
-      did not doubt that if she had told any one of them of her project, she
-      would never have a chance of realizing it. They would certainly have
-      pronounced against such a proceeding even before a page of her novel came
-      to be written.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And yet it was the thought that this novel was shortly to be published
-      that had caused her to feel that she was drawing nearer to her lover.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      As she reflected upon this, sitting idly over her work when her sister had
-      left the house, her tears began to fall, not in a torrent, but slowly
-      dropping at intervals upon the fabric which she had been sewing. She felt
-      very sad, very hopeless, very lonely.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Nor could it be said that the sudden return of Mrs. Burney meant a return
-      of happiness to the girl.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Mrs. Burney did not consider that Fanny had made satisfactory progress
-      with her work, and did not hesitate to express her opinion to this effect.
-      But she was not imprudently unkind; for young Mr. Barlowe had just written
-      to her, begging permission to pay his respects to Mrs. Burney and her
-      daughter that evening, and she meant that Fanny should be in a good humour
-      to entertain him.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Mrs. Burney had great hopes that the question of Fanny's future&mdash;a
-      constant topic of conversation and consultation between her and her
-      husband&mdash;might be settled by a series of visits of young Mr. Barlowe.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER IX
-    </h2>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">Y</span>OUNG Mr. Barlowe
-      took himself very seriously, and he had every right to do so; for a more
-      serious young man was not to be found in business in London. He had been
-      brought up to look upon everything in the world as having an intimate
-      connection with business, and it had always been impressed upon him that
-      business meant the increase of money, and that there was hardly anything
-      in the world worth giving a thought to apart from the increase of money.
-      It never occurred to any of his preceptors to suggest that the advantage
-      of increasing one's money lay in the splendid possibilities of spending
-      it. The art of making money forms the whole curriculum of a business man's
-      education; he is supposed to require no instruction in the art of spending
-      it. Thus it is that, by attending only to one side of the question, so
-      many business men lead much less interesting lives than they might, if
-      they had it in their power to place themselves under the guidance of a
-      trustworthy professor of the Art of Spending. But no Chair of Spending has
-      yet been provided at any University, nor is there any instructor on this
-      important branch of business education at any of the City schools, hence
-      it is that the sons of so many money-making men turn out spendthrifts.
-      They have been taught only one side of the great money question, and that
-      the less important side into the bargain. In making an honest endeavour to
-      master the other side, usually on the death of a father or a bachelor
-      uncle, both looked on as close-fisted curmudgeons, a good many young men
-      find themselves in difficulties.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Young Mr. Barlowe, on being introduced to the Burney family, through the
-      circumstance of Mrs. Burney's first husband having done business with Mr.
-      Barlowe the elder, found himself in a strange atmosphere. He had never
-      before imagined the existence of a household where music and plays and
-      books were talked about as if these were the profitable topics of life.
-      Previously he had lived in a house where the only profitable topic was
-      thought to be the Profits. At his father's table in the Poultry the
-      conversation never travelled beyond the Profits. The likelihood of a rise
-      in the price of gold or silver sometimes induced the father to increase
-      his stock of bullion without delay, and then if the price rose, he could
-      conscientiously charge his customers for the lace at such a rate per ounce
-      as gave him a clear five per cent, extra profit; and it was upon such
-      possibilities that the conversation in the Poultry parlour invariably
-      turned.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And here were these Burneys talking with extraordinary eagerness and
-      vivacity upon such matters as the treatment by a singer named Gabrielli of
-      one of the phrases in a song of Mr. Handel's, beginning: &ldquo;Angels ever
-      bright and fair&rdquo;! For himself, young Mr. Barlowe thought that there was no
-      need for so much repetition in any song. &ldquo;Angels ever bright and fair,
-      Take, oh take me to your care&rdquo;&mdash;that was the whole thing, as it
-      seemed to him; and when that request had been made once he thought it was
-      quite enough; to repeat it half a dozen times was irritating and really
-      tended to defeat its purpose. Only children in the nursery kept
-      reiterating their requests. But he had heard Dr. Burney and his
-      son-in-law, Esther's husband, discuss the Gabrielli's apparently
-      unauthorized pause before the second violins suggested (as it appeared to
-      the younger musician) a whisper of assent floating from the heaven; and
-      all the members of the family except Fanny had taken sides in the
-      controversy, as though a thing like that had any bearing upon the daily
-      life of the City!
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Thomas Barlowe was amazed at the childishness of the discussion, and he
-      was particularly struck by the silence of Fanny on this occasion. She was
-      silent, he was sure, because she agreed with him in thinking it ridiculous
-      to waste words over a point that should be relegated to the nursery for
-      settlement.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;They seem pleasant enough people in their way,&rdquo; he told his mother after
-      his first visit. &ldquo;But they know nothing of what is going on in the world&mdash;the
-      real world, of which the Poultry is the centre. It might be expected that
-      the young man who is a naval officer and has seen the world would know
-      something of the import of the question when I asked him what direction he
-      thought gold would move in; but he only winked and replied, 'Not across my
-      hawse, I dare swear,' and the others laughed as if he had said something
-      humorous.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Mayhap it was humorous,&rdquo; suggested his mother gravely.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It would be sheer ribaldry for anyone to jest upon such a subject as the
-      fluctuations in the price of silver,&rdquo; said Thomas slowly. &ldquo;Lieutenant
-      Burney must surely know how serious a matter would be a fall of a fraction
-      of a crown when we have bought heavily in prospect of a rise. But Miss
-      Burney looks to be different from the others of the family. I have told
-      you that while her father, and indeed all the rest, were talking excitedly
-      on that ridiculous point in Mr. Handel's music, she sat in silence. She is
-      short-sighted, but I noticed more than once that she had her eyes fixed on
-      me, as if she had found something to study in me. She is, I think, a
-      steady, observant young lady. When Mrs. Burney said she hoped that I would
-      visit them again, I think I perceived a sort of interest on Miss Burney's
-      face as she awaited my answer.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Thomas had resolved not to frustrate the hopes that Mrs. Burney had
-      expressed as to his paying another visit&mdash;as a matter of fact he had
-      come three times, and on every occasion he had devoted himself to Fanny&mdash;to
-      be more exact than Mrs. Burney, who had described his attentions in this
-      phrase, he had passed his time subjecting her to a sort of catechism with
-      a view to discover if she would make him the sort of wife that would suit
-      him. It appeared that the result of his inquisition was satisfactory, and
-      that his attentions were gradually becoming intentions; but Mrs. Burney
-      had never gone farther than to comment favourably to Fanny upon the young
-      man's steadiness, and to suggest that the young woman whom he might choose
-      to be his wife would be fortunate, steady young men with good prospects in
-      the City being far from abundant. She had never gone so far as to ask
-      Fanny if she would accept good fortune coming to her in such a form;
-      though Fanny knew very well that she had asked Esther to sound her on this
-      point.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      How far Esther's mission was accounted successful by their stepmother,
-      Fanny, of course, could not guess; but at any rate Thomas was to pay a
-      visit after dinner, and Fanny felt that it was necessary for her to be
-      discreet. It had been very interesting for her to study Thomas, with the
-      possibility before her of writing a second novel, in which some of his
-      traits of character might be introduced with advantage; but she perceived
-      how there was a likelihood of her course of study being paid for at too
-      high a rate; so she resolved&mdash;to be discreet beyond her ordinary
-      exercise of a virtue which she displayed at all times of her life.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      So Thomas came to the house in St. Martin's Street while tea was being
-      served in the drawingroom, to the accompaniment of a duet on the piano&mdash;Dr.
-      Burney had quickly perceived the merits of this new instrument over that
-      of the harpsichord&mdash;between Susan and her father. Very close to the
-      instrument, pressing the receiver of his ear-trumpet to the woodwork of
-      the case, sat Sir Joshua Reynolds, while his sister&mdash;a lady of middle
-      age who was gradually relinquishing the idea that she, too, could paint
-      portraits&mdash;was suffering Mrs. Burney to explain to her the advantages
-      of Lynn over London as a place of residence for people anxious to
-      economize.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Fanny was at the table where the teapot and urn were being drawn on, and
-      close to her sat her brother James, with a volume like an account-book
-      lying face down on the table while he drank his tea.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The progress of the duet was not arrested by the entrance of young Mr.
-      Barlowe, but he looked in the direction of the instrument when he had
-      shaken hands with Mrs. Burney and bowed to Miss Reynolds. It was obvious
-      that he was mystified by seeing Sir Joshua's ear-trumpet pressed against
-      the sound-conducting case of the piano. He was still looking at it with
-      curious eyes while he greeted Fanny with the concentrated politeness of
-      the Poultry.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Lieutenant Burney roused himself from his lolling attitude when he saw the
-      puzzled look on the young man's face, and he obligingly endeavoured to
-      explain away the mystery.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;'Tis no wonder that you are amazed, Mr. Barlowe,&rdquo; he said in a whisper.
-      &ldquo;I own that when it was first brought to my notice I thought it
-      extraordinary. A marvellous instrument, is it not, that is played by the
-      ear instead of by the mouth? And yet you must own that some of the notes
-      it produces are very fine&mdash;much more delicate than could be produced
-      by any other means.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I do not profess to be a judge of music, sir,&rdquo; said Thomas; &ldquo;but I know
-      what pleases me.&rdquo; Fanny wondered how often she had heard that same boast&mdash;the
-      attempt of complete ignorance to be accredited with the virtue of
-      frankness. &ldquo;Yes, I own that I consider the music monstrous pretty; but
-      with the ear&mdash;that is what puzzles me: it seems a simple trumpet,
-      such as is blown by the mouth.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Pray do not let my father hear you say that, Mr. Barlowe,&rdquo; whispered
-      James. &ldquo;That instrument is his fondest. You know that he has written a
-      'History of Music'?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;All the world knows that, sir,&rdquo; replied Thomas gallantly. &ldquo;I have not yet
-      found time to read it myself, but&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Neither have I, sir; but I understand that that instrument which seems
-      new to such simpletons as you and I is really as ancient as the pyramids
-      of Egypt&mdash;nay, more so, for my father discovered in his researches
-      that this was the identical form of the first instrument made by Tubal
-      Cain himself.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Is't possible? In our Family Bible there is a picture of Tubal Cain, but
-      he is depicted blowing through a conch shell.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;A shell! Ah! such was the ignorance of the world on these matters before
-      my father wrote his History. But he has managed to clear up many points
-      upon which complete ignorance or very erroneous opinions prevailed. It is
-      not generally known, for instance, that Tubal had his second name given to
-      him by reason of his habitually murdering every musical piece that he
-      attempted to play.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But he was the inventor, was he not?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Quite true, Mr. Barlowe. But that fact, you must admit, only made his
-      offence the more flagrant. So the inscriptions on the rocks assert; and
-      there are some sensible people nowadays who believe that Tubal's second
-      and very suggestive name should be coupled with the names of many more
-      recent performers on musical instruments.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You do not allude to the gentleman who is playing that new instrument&mdash;I
-      mean that very ancient instrument&mdash;by the side of Dr. Burney?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, surely not. That gentleman is one of the most notable performers of
-      our age, Mr. Barlowe. I ask you plainly, sir, have you ever seen, even at
-      a raree show, a musician who could play an instrument with his ear and
-      produce such a good effect? You can easily believe that a vast amount of
-      ingenuity is needed to produce even the simplest sound in that way.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;If I had not it demonstrated before my eyes I should not believe it
-      possible. I protest, sir, that the effect is very pretty. Is't not so,
-      Miss Burney?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      The young man turned to Fanny, who was doing her best to refrain from an
-      outburst of laughter; she could not trust herself to put her cup of tea to
-      her lips while her brother was continuing his fooling. She thought that it
-      was scarcely good manners of him to play such a jest upon a visitor,
-      though she knew the ward-room code of manners which her naval brother had
-      acquired was very liberal on such points. She was about to give Mr.
-      Barlowe a hint of the truth of Sir Joshua's ear-trumpet, but James,
-      perceiving her intention, defeated it by saying in a tone above a whisper:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Cain&mdash;we mentioned Cain, did we not, Mr. Barlowe? Oh, yes; and it
-      must have occurred to you how strangely customs have altered during the
-      past ten years&mdash;how strongly opposed people are to-day to principles
-      that were accepted without demur so recently as in our own boyhood. You
-      take my meaning, sir?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Mr. Barlowe did not look as if he quite grasped Lieutenant Burney's drift,
-      and Fanny felt it incumbent on her to prevent further fooling (as he
-      thought she would) by remarking:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;My brother means, Mr. Barlowe, that 'tis remarkable how many changes are
-      being made in many ways&mdash;but what he had in his mind was, of course,
-      in respect to the forte-piano&mdash;on which my father and sister are
-      playing a duet: only a few years ago no one thought to improve upon the
-      harpsichord; and yet my father asserts that in a short time the
-      harpsichord will be no more than a curiosity&mdash;that the forte-piano&mdash;or
-      as we simply call it now, the piano, will take its place in every
-      household. That is what you meant, was it not, James?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I was thinking of Cain and his profession&mdash;Cain, the good old
-      murderer, rather than of Tubal Cain, who was perhaps equally criminal in
-      inventing the liveliest source of human torture,&rdquo; replied James gravely.
-      &ldquo;Yes, I was thinking&mdash;suggested by the mention of Cain&mdash;how
-      strange people nowadays would regard my father's intentions regarding my
-      future when he assumed that I should have the best chance for cultivating
-      my bent, which he had early recognized in me, by sending me, before it
-      became too late, to be educated for the profession to an accomplished
-      murderer.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER X
-    </h2>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">Y</span>OUNG Mr. Barlowe
-      started so violently that he spilt his tea over his knees; for just before
-      James had uttered his last sentence the music stopped, but as it had been
-      somewhat loud in the final bars, and James had raised his voice in the
-      same proportion, the inertia of his tone defied any attempt to modulate
-      it, so that it was almost with a shout that he had declared that he had
-      been sent to be educated in his profession to a murderer.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Fanny was too much overcome by the ludicrous aspect of the contretemps to
-      be able to laugh. Her brother, who had had no intention of startling
-      anyone in the room except young Mr. Barlowe, hung his head and was
-      blushing under the South Sea tan of his skin; Sir Joshua Reynolds had
-      heard nothing after the crashing chords that concluded the duet; but poor
-      Miss Reynolds almost sprang from her chair in horror.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Mrs. Burney was very angry.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You have been making a fool of yourself as usual, James,&rdquo; she cried.
-      &ldquo;Pray give Mr. Barlowe another cup of tea, Fanny. I vow that 'tis a shame
-      for you, James Burney, to treat such a company as though you were on the
-      deck of the <i>Adventure</i> facing your South Sea savages.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      But Dr. Burney, with his customary tact, raised a hand half reprovingly
-      toward his wife.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Give Mr. Barlowe his cup, and then pass one to me, Fanny,&rdquo; he said,
-      rising from the piano. &ldquo;You know that James has spoken no more than the
-      truth, my dear,&rdquo; he added, smiling at his wife. &ldquo;I can see that the rascal
-      has been fooling while our backs were turned to him; but we know that he
-      spoke no more than the truth&mdash;at least in that one sentence which he
-      bawled out for us. He was, indeed, sent to a school where he was placed
-      under an accomplished usher who was some time after hanged as a murderer.
-      You see, madam&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; he had turned, still smiling, to Miss
-      Reynolds, thereby doing much to restore her confidence in the sanity of
-      the family&mdash;&ldquo;You see that James was from the first so desperate a
-      young rascal that, just as a boy who is an adept at figures is educated
-      for the counting-house, and one who spends all the day before he is six
-      picking out tunes on the harpsichord should be apprenticed, as I was, to a
-      musician, so we thought our James should be sent whither he could be
-      properly grounded in the only profession at which he was likely to excel.
-      But, alas! the poor usher was carried off by the police, tried at the next
-      assizes and duly hanged before James had made much progress in his
-      studies; but I believe that a few years in the navy does as much for a
-      youth who has made up his mind to succeed, as a protracted course under a
-      fully qualified criminal.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Miss Reynolds looked as if she were not quite certain that, in spite of
-      his smiles, Dr. Burney was jesting; but when Mrs. Burney, seeing how her
-      husband's mock seriousness was likely to produce a wrong impression upon
-      plain people, said:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You must recall hearing about Mr. Eugene Aram some years back, Mrs.
-      Reynolds,&rdquo; that lady showed that her mind was greatly relieved.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I recall the matter without difficulty,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;The man was usher at
-      the grammar school at Lynn.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And no school had a more learned teacher than that unfortunate man,&rdquo; said
-      Sir Joshua. Young Mr. Barlowe had been divided in his amazement at what
-      Dr. Burney had said, and at the sight of Sir Joshua holding the trumpet to
-      his ear, though the instrument remained mute. He had never found himself
-      within the circle of so startling a society. He wished himself safe at
-      home in the Poultry, where people talked sense and made no attempt to blow
-      a trumpet with their ears.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;James had acquired quite a liking for poor Aram,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney, &ldquo;and,
-      indeed, I own to having had a high opinion of the man's ability myself. It
-      was to enable him to purchase books necessary for his studies in philology
-      that he killed his victim&mdash;a contemptible curmudgeon named Johnstone.
-      I fear that all our sympathy was on the side of the usher.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I was greatly interested in Mr. Aram, and read a full account of his
-      trial,&rdquo; said Sir Joshua.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I wonder that a man of so sensitive a mind as his did not so brood over
-      his crime as to cause suspicion to fall on him earlier than it did.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Only upon one occasion it seemed that he was affected by an incident
-      which might possibly have awakened some suspicion in the mind of a person
-      given to suspicion,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;James had been presented with a copy of the translation of Gessner's
-      'Death of Abel'&mdash;everyone was going mad about the book that year&mdash;more
-      copies were sold of it than of any translation since Pope's 'Homer,' but I
-      fancy James found it dull enough reading. He had it on his knee trying to
-      get through a page or two in case the kind donor might question him upon
-      it, when the usher came up. He took the volume in his hand and glanced at
-      the title. Down the book fell from his grasp and he hurried away without a
-      word&mdash;'as if he had been stung,' James said, in telling us about it,
-      to excuse the broken cover. Of course, I never gave a thought to the
-      matter at the time; but when I heard of the arrest of Eugene Aram the
-      following year, I recalled the incident.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I should like to make a picture of the scene, and name it 'Remorse,'&rdquo;
-       said Reynolds.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      (<i>He never did make such a picture; many years had passed, and
-      Lieutenant Burney had become an Admiral before his narration of the
-      incident touched the imagination of a poet who dealt with it in verse that
-      has thrilled a good many readers.</i>)
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Thomas Barlowe was not greatly thrilled by the story as told by Dr.
-      Burney. He seemed rather shocked to find himself at the table with someone
-      who had been taught by a murderer. He glanced furtively at James Burney,
-      who had remained silent since the contretemps that had prevented him from
-      perfecting his fooling of Thomas; and the result of Thomas's scrutiny at
-      that moment was to cause Thomas a tremor; for who could say what fearful
-      knowledge Lieutenant Burney might have acquired during his intercourse
-      with the murderer&mdash;knowledge which might jeopardize the safety of a
-      simple visitor like himself? Thomas felt that no ordinary person could be
-      accounted absolutely safe in a company that included a tall, able-bodied
-      young naval man who had begun his education under a murderer and had gone
-      to complete it among the cannibals of the South Seas; and, in addition, an
-      elderly gentleman who fancied that he could bring any sound out of a
-      trumpet by pressing it to his ear instead of his lips, and had shown
-      himself ready to extol the scholarship of any man who had been hanged.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But then Thomas looked at Fanny, and she pleased him more than ever. She
-      was so demure, so modest, so shy. She had a very pretty blush, and she did
-      not play on the piano. It was a thousand pities, he felt, that such a girl
-      should be compelled to remain in such uncongenial companionship. All the
-      time that Dr. Burney and his other daughter were playing a second duet,
-      and the silly gentleman holding the bell of his trumpet to the case of the
-      piano, still fondly believing that he was also a performer with the
-      mouth-piece in his ear, Thomas Barlowe was feeling wave after wave of pity
-      passing over him for the unhappy position of the shy girl in the midst of
-      so doubtful a household. Before long his compassion for her so stimulated
-      his imagination that he began to think of the possibility of his rescuing
-      her&mdash;he began to think of himself in the character of a hero&mdash;he
-      did not remember the name of any particular hero who had carried off a
-      young woman who was placed in a similar situation to that occupied by Miss
-      Burney; but he had no doubt that more than one romance was founded upon
-      the doings of such a man as he felt himself fully qualified to be, if he
-      made up his mind to assume such a rôle.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      As the music continued&mdash;it was an arrangement of Bach's <i>Orfèo</i>&mdash;Thomas
-      Barlowe became more and more resolute. He would be the heroic person who
-      should appear at the right moment and achieve the emancipation of that
-      sweet and shy girl, who by no fault of hers was forced to live in that
-      house and remain, if she could, on friendly terms with her father and
-      sisters, who kept strumming on the piano, and with her brother, who was
-      ready to boast of having received the rudiments of his education from a
-      murderer. All that he needed was the opportunity to show his heroism, and
-      he did not doubt that when he set his mind to work on the matter, he would
-      have such an opportunity.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      If anyone had whispered in his ear that his inward consciousness of being
-      equal to the doing of great deeds was solely due to the music which was
-      being played, and to which he was unwillingly listening, he would have
-      been indignant. He would have thought it preposterous had it been
-      suggested to him that the effect of that strumming was to make him feel
-      more like a god than a man&mdash;to be ready to face hell for the love of
-      a woman, as Jean Sebastian Bach imagined Orpheus doing for Eurydice. But
-      Jean Sebastian Bach knew what he was about when he had composed his <i>Orfèo</i>,
-      and Dr. Burney was quite equal to the business of interpreting his aims,
-      and of urging his daughter Susan to join with him in impressing them upon
-      even so unimpressionable a nature as that of Thomas Barlowe; so that while
-      Thomas Barlowe believed that this music was one of the most petty of all
-      human interests, it was making him think such thoughts as had never before
-      entered his mind&mdash;it was giving him aspirations from which in
-      ordinary circumstances he would have shrunk.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The master musician and his interpreters were making sport of him, leading
-      him if not quite into the region of the heroic, at least to the boundary
-      of that region, and supplying him with a perspective glass, as the
-      Interpreter did to the Pilgrims, by the aid of which he might see the
-      wonderful things that had been beyond his natural scope.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And that was how it came about that he gazed into Miss Burney's eyes and
-      pressed her hand at parting with a tenderness he had never previously
-      associated with his leave-taking. He felt sure that Miss Burney would
-      understand what he meant, though he knew that he would have difficulty in
-      expressing it all to her in words; for the effect of the music was to make
-      him feel that he could put so much feeling into a look, into a squeeze of
-      the hand, as would touch the heart of any young woman and cause her to be
-      certain that she might trust him though all other help might fail her.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      That was the effect which the heroic music had upon him, though he did not
-      know it; it made him feel willing to face hell for her sake at that
-      moment, and even until he had walked through more than a mile of the
-      network of streets that lay between Leicester Fields and the Poultry.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But the effect of such an intoxicant as music upon such a nature as his is
-      not lasting. Before he had reached Cheapside his own individuality was
-      beginning to assert itself; and he wondered if he had not gone too far for
-      discretion&mdash;discretion being, according to his reckoning, the power
-      to withdraw from a position that might compromise him. And before he
-      reached his home he had got the length of wondering how he had so far
-      forgotten himself as to yield to that compromising impulse represented by
-      the gaze and the squeeze. He could not for the life of him understand what
-      had come over him at that moment; for he had by no means satisfied himself
-      that Miss Burney was the young woman who would make him comfortable as his
-      wife. He still thought highly of her on account of her modesty and her
-      dainty shyness, but marriage was a serious matter, and he was not sure
-      that he should take her for his wife.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      On the whole, he felt that he had had a very trying evening&mdash;between
-      the Lieutenant who had so nearly qualified to practise as a murderer, and
-      the father and daughter who seemed ready to strum their duets until
-      midnight, to say nothing of the foolish gentleman who tried to play the
-      trumpet with his ear; and Thomas made up his mind that he would not trust
-      himself into the midst of so unusual a circle until he was certain that he
-      wanted to marry the young woman whose hand he had, for some reason or
-      other, pressed at parting.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But Mrs. Burney had noticed much more clearly than Fanny had done the
-      expression that the face of Thomas Barlowe had worn when he had looked
-      into the girl's eyes; she had measured to the fraction of a second the
-      duration of his holding of her hand beyond the time essential for the
-      discharge of the ordinary courtesy of a hand-shake; and she was satisfied
-      that Thomas was progressing in his wooing of the least attractive and
-      certainly the least accomplished member of the family. The good woman
-      thought, however, that it was rather a pity that her husband and Susan had
-      persisted in the practice of their duets; for by doing so they had not
-      given a chance to Thomas and Fanny of being alone together.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But, looking back upon the incidents of the evening, she came to the
-      conclusion that, on the whole, she had no reason to complain of the
-      progress that was being made in the young man's wooing. She was no
-      believer in undue haste in this respect; and had not Thomas looked into
-      Fanny's eyes at the close of the evening? Yes, at the close; and that
-      proved to her satisfaction that he had not suffered discouragement by the
-      maladroit conversation about Mr. Eugene Aram. The unhappy episode upon
-      which her husband had dwelt with far too great attention to its details,
-      was one to which she herself had never alluded; for at Lynn, where she had
-      lived all her life previous to being married to Dr. Burney, the Eugene
-      Aram episode was regarded as a scandal to be ignored by those of the
-      inhabitants whose children had attended the school where he had been
-      usher. It was a distinctly favourable sign of the impression made upon
-      young Mr. Barlowe by Fanny, that he had gazed into her eyes in spite of
-      his having been made aware of the connection of the family with the
-      tragedy of that wretched schoolmaster. Mrs. Burney took no account of the
-      effect of Bach's marvellous music upon a young man who was a lover in the
-      rough. In this respect, as has been indicated, she did not differ from the
-      young man himself.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XI
-    </h2>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T was at the
-      Pantheon in the Oxford Road a fortnight later, that Mrs. Thrale, the
-      brewer's lively wife, had an opportunity of shining, by a display of that
-      <i>esprit</i> which caused Mr. Garrick to affirm solemnly that if she had
-      gone upon the stage she would have been a dangerous rival to Mistress
-      Clive; and Fanny Burney, with her father and Mr. Linley, the father of the
-      beautiful Mrs. Sheridan, was a witness of the ease with which the lady
-      sparkled as she described for the benefit of the circle how Mr. Garrick's
-      jest at the expense of poor Mr. Kendal and the Widow Nash had set all the
-      Wells laughing. She imitated Mr. Garrick to his face, in offering his
-      congratulations to Mr. Kendal and so setting the ball a-rolling until
-      within an hour the poor, silly gentleman had been offered the
-      felicitations of half the Wells upon his engagement to Widow Nash. Mrs.
-      Thrale re-enacted with great gravity the part she had played in Mr.
-      Garrick's plot, and then she hastened to imitate Mrs. Cholmondeley's part,
-      and even Mr. Sheridan's, upon that lively morning at Tunbridge Wells.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But there was much more to tell, and Mrs. Thrale took very good care to
-      abate nothing of her narrative; it gave her so good a chance of acting,
-      and it gave Mr. Garrick so good a chance of complimenting her before all
-      the company.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, I vow that we played our parts to perfection,&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;and
-      without any rehearsal either. But then what happened? You will scarce
-      believe it, Mr. Garrick has always borne such a character for scrupulous
-      honour in his dealings with his companies, but indeed 'tis a fact that our
-      manager decamped as soon as he found that the poor man had been teased to
-      the verge of madness by the fooling he had started&mdash;off he went, we
-      knew not whither; leaving no message for any of us. He was not to be found
-      by noon; and what happened by dinner-time? Why, the poor gentleman whom we
-      had been fooling had also fled!&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That was indeed too bad of Mr. Kendal,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;'Twas too inconsiderate of him truly,&rdquo; cried Mrs. Thrale. &ldquo;'Tis no great
-      matter if the manager of the playhouse runs away when his play is produced&mdash;you
-      remember that Mr. Colman hurried off to Bath to escape lampooners when the
-      success of Dr. Goldsmith's comedy <i>She Stoops to Conquer</i> had proved
-      to all the town that he was no judge of a play; but for the one who has
-      been made the object of such a jest as ours to escape without giving us a
-      chance of bringing our teasing to a fitting climax is surely little short
-      of infamous.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And when did you design the fitting climax to arrive, madam?&rdquo; asked one
-      of the circle.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, when the gentleman and lady should come face to face in the Assembly
-      Rooms, to be sure,&rdquo; replied Mrs. Thrale. &ldquo;We were all there to await the
-      scene of their meeting; and you can judge of our chagrin when only the
-      lady appeared.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;We can do so, indeed,&rdquo; said Mrs. Darner, who was also in the circle. &ldquo;I
-      can well believe that you were furious. When one has arranged a burletta
-      for two characters 'tis infamous when only one of the actors appears on
-      the stage.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Mrs. Thrale smiled the smile of the lady who knows that she is harbouring
-      a surprise for her friends and only awaits the right moment to spring it
-      upon them&mdash;a cat to be let out of the bag at the pulling of a string.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I knew that we should have your sympathy, Mrs. Darner,&rdquo; she said
-      demurely. &ldquo;You have, I doubt not, more than once experienced all the
-      chagrin that follows the miscarrying of a well-planned scheme. But as it
-      so happened, we were more than compensated for our ill-usage at that time
-      by the unlooked-for appearance of the missing actor two nights later.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, lud!&rdquo; cried Mrs. Darner, holding up both her hands in a very dainty
-      way.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Mr. Garrick also lifted up his hands in amazement, but he did not need to
-      exclaim anything to emphasize the effect of his gesture.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Dr. Burney smiled, trying to catch the eye of Mr. Garrick, but Mr. Garrick
-      took very good care that he should not succeed in doing so.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You may well cry, 'oh, lud!'&rdquo; said Mrs. Thrale. &ldquo;But if you had been in
-      the Rooms when the man entered you would not have been able to say a word
-      for surprise, I promise you. The poor gentleman had posted all the way
-      from town to Tunbridge, apparently for our diversion only, and what a
-      sight he was! It seems that he had got over his fright at the coupling of
-      his name with the lady's, while flying to London, but from this point a
-      reaction set in, and he spent all the time that he was posting back to the
-      Wells adding fuel to the fire of his resolution to throw himself at the
-      feet of the lady at the earliest possible moment. Was there ever such a
-      comedy played, Mr. Garrick?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;'Twould be too extravagant for the theatre, madam, but not for Nature's
-      playhouse,&rdquo; replied Garrick. &ldquo;I have more than once been told the story of
-      soldiers having fled in a panic from the field of battle, but on finding
-      themselves in a place of safety they returned to the fight and fought like
-      demons. Was there aught that could be termed demoniacal in the gentleman's
-      conduct on finding himself face to face with the enemy&mdash;I mean the
-      lady?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Aught demoniacal, do you ask me?&rdquo; cried Mrs. Thrale. &ldquo;Oh, sir, have you
-      not heard the parable of the demon that was cast out of a man, but finding
-      its homeless condition unsupportable, sought out seven of its friends and
-      returned with them to its former habitation, so that the last state of the
-      man was more demoniacal than the first?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I fancy I have heard the parable, madam, but its application&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-       began Garrick, when Mrs.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Darner broke in upon him, crying:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Do not ever attempt to point out the aptness of the application of a
-      parable, Mrs. Thrale. Do not, if you are wise. Would you lead us to
-      believe that the unhappy wretch found it necessary to post up to town to
-      obtain his relay of demons for his own discomfiture when so much rank and
-      fashion was at the Wells, though at the fag end of the season?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Leaving parables aside, demons and all, I can bear witness to the
-      condition of the man when he entered the Rooms and strode with
-      determination on his face up to where the Widow Nash was fanning herself&mdash;not
-      without need,&rdquo; said Mrs. Thrale. &ldquo;It so happened that she was seated under
-      the gallery at the furthest end of the Rooms, but our gentleman did not
-      pause on entering to look round for her&mdash;I tell you that it seemed as
-      if he went by instinct straight up to her, and bowing before her, said:
-      'Madam, may I beg the honour of a word or two with you in private?'&mdash;I
-      was close by and so were several other equally credible witnesses, and we
-      heard every word. The widow looked at him coolly&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, you said she had been fanning herself,&rdquo; remarked Mrs. Darner, but
-      without interrupting the flow of the narrative.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;There was no need of a fan for her voice, I can assure you, when she had
-      completed her survey of the dusty gentleman and thought fit to reply to
-      him,&rdquo; continued Mrs. Thrale. &ldquo;'I vow, sir,' said she, 'that I consider
-      this room sufficiently private for anything you have to say to me.' She
-      had plainly got wind of Mr. Garrick's plot and so was fully prepared for
-      the worst&mdash;though some people might call it the best&mdash;that could
-      happen. 'Madam,' said Mr. Kendal, 'what I have to say is meant for your
-      ear alone,' and I am bound to admit that he spoke with suavity and
-      dignity. 'Pray let my friends here be the judges of that,' said the widow.
-      That was a pretty rebuff for any gentleman with a sense of his own
-      dignity, you will say; but he did not seem to accept it in such a spirit.
-      He hesitated, but only for a few moments, then he looked around him to see
-      who were within hearing, and with hardly a pause, he said in the clearest
-      of tones, 'I perceive that we are surrounded just now with some ladies
-      who, two days ago, offered me congratulations upon my good fortune in
-      winning your promise, madam; and I venture now to come before you to
-      implore of you to give me permission to assume that their congratulations
-      were well founded'&mdash;those were his words; we did not think that he
-      had it in him to express himself so well.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And what was the lady's reply?&rdquo; asked Dr. Burney, recalling the prophecy
-      in which he had indulged when parting from Garrick at his own door.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The lady's reply was disappointing, though dignified,&rdquo; replied Mrs.
-      Thrale. &ldquo;'Sir,' she said, 'I have oft heard that the credulity of a man
-      has no limits, but I have never before had so conspicuous an instance of
-      the truth of this. Surely the merest schoolboy would have been able to
-      inform you that you were being made the victim of one of Mr. Garrick's
-      silly jests&mdash;that these ladies here lent themselves to the
-      transaction, hoping to make a fool of me as well as of you; but I trust
-      that they are now aware of the fact that I, at least, perceived the truth
-      from the first, so that whoever has been fooled I am not that person; and
-      so I have the honour to wish you and them a very good evening.' Then she
-      treated us to a very elaborate curtsey and stalked away to the door,
-      leaving us all amazed at her display of dignity&mdash;real dignity, not
-      the stage imitation, Mr. Garrick.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You should have been there, if only to receive a lesson, Mr. Garrick,&rdquo;
-       said Mrs. Damer.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I hope those who had the good fortune to be present were taught a
-      lesson,&rdquo; said another lady in the circle.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;If you mean me, madam,&rdquo; said Mrs. Thrale, with tactful good humour, &ldquo;I
-      frankly allow that I profited greatly by observing the scene. 'Tis a
-      dangerous game to play&mdash;that of trying to show others in a ridiculous
-      light, and in future I vow that all my attention shall be given to the
-      duty of avoiding making a fool of myself. Your jest miscarried, Mr.
-      Garrick; though how that gentleman who fled from the Wells in that
-      headlong fashion was induced to return, is beyond my knowledge.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Psha! madam, the fellow is a coxcomb and not worth discussing,&rdquo; cried
-      Garrick. &ldquo;He got no more than his deserts when the lady left him to be the
-      laughing-stock of the Assembly. I knew that that would be his fate if he
-      ever succeeded in summing up sufficient courage to face her.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But strange to say, we did not laugh at him then,&rdquo; said Mrs. Thrale. &ldquo;He
-      seemed to be quite a different man from the one whom we had tried to fool
-      two days earlier. There was a certain dignity about him that disarmed us.
-      You must allow, Mr. Garrick, that only the bravest of men would have had
-      the courage to march up the Assembly Rooms and make his proposal to the
-      lady in public.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That is the courage of the coxcomb who believes himself to be
-      irresistible to the other sex, madam,&rdquo; said Garrick; &ldquo;and I affirm that
-      'twas most reprehensible to refrain from laughing at him.&rdquo; Then, putting
-      his arm through that of Burney as if to stroll on with him, and so give
-      the others to understand that he had had enough of Mr. Kendal as a topic,
-      he whispered:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Ha, my friend, did not I prophesy aright what would be the fellow's fate?
-      I know men, and women, too&mdash;ay, in some measure, though they are
-      sealed books, eh, friend Burney? And you tried to persuade me that she
-      would not snub him? I knew better&mdash;I knew that she&mdash;eh, what&mdash;what
-      are they staring at?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;They are staring at the appearance of Mr. Kendal with the Widow Nash on
-      his arm&mdash;there they are, David, and you are staring at them too,&rdquo;
-       said Burney with a smile.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Angels and Ministers of Grace! 'Tis a man and his wife we are staring at!
-      The woman has married him after all!&rdquo; cried David, his hand dropping
-      limply from Burney's shoulder. &ldquo;A man and his wife: I know the look in
-      their faces!&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XII
-    </h2>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T was, indeed, the
-      same man who had come to consult Dr. Burney, but had not been allowed the
-      chance of doing so by Garrick, a fortnight before&mdash;the same man, but
-      with a marked difference, who was now walking across the pillared room in
-      the Pantheon, with a smiling, well-favoured lady by his side; and toward
-      the pair the eyes of all the circle whom Mrs. Thrale had been addressing
-      were directed.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Mrs. Thrale and her friends were too much amazed to be able to speak, but
-      the lips of every one of them were holding back some exclamation of
-      surprise: an acute observer would have been able easily to set down the
-      various unuttered exclamations of the party, from the simple &ldquo;Oh, Lud!&rdquo; of
-      Mrs. Thrale to the more emphatic &ldquo;Merciful Powers!&rdquo; of Mrs. Cholmondeley,
-      though not a word was spoken between them, while Mr. Kendal and the lady
-      walked, straight through the room to where they were standing.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Slip behind the pillar: I will cover you, my friend,&rdquo; whispered Dr.
-      Burney to Garrick.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But Garrick had no intention of doing anything so ignominious&mdash;more
-      especially as he perceived that Mr. Kendal had caught sight of him; and it
-      was really Garrick who advanced to meet the couple, with the air of a host
-      about to welcome two long-expected guests&mdash;it was really Garrick who
-      received them with one of his finest bows, and who&mdash;to add to the
-      amazement of the group behind him&mdash;was greeted by Mr. Kendal and the
-      lady with the friendliest of smiles (the lady was blushing, not Mr.
-      Garrick).
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And then it was to Dr. Burney the gentleman turned.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Dear sir,&rdquo; he cried, &ldquo;with what words should I approach you? It is to
-      your counsel and Mr. Garrick's that I owe my happiness.&rdquo; Then he made his
-      bow to the others of the group.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Mrs. Thrale,&rdquo; he said, when he had recovered himself, &ldquo;we hoped to find
-      you here with your friends, so that we might lose no moment in offering
-      you our thanks for the tactful way in which you brought us together. Only
-      such genius as yours, madam, could have perceived&mdash;well, all that you
-      did perceive. I protest that neither Mrs. Kendal nor myself apprehended
-      the too flattering truth. But the heart of a woman who has herself loved&mdash;ah,
-      that is the source of such genius as you displayed with such subtlety. She
-      is mine, madam; we have been married a whole week, and I, at least, know
-      what a treasure&mdash;but I cannot trust myself to talk of my happiness
-      just now. Perhaps at some future time I shall be able to tell you
-      coherently how I felt within me that my Diana&mdash;Mrs. Nash, as she was
-      then&mdash;did not mean her rebuff as a final dismissal, and thus I was
-      led to her side&mdash;to implore an audience of her, in the course of
-      which she confessed to me that&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      But his bride prevented the flow of his eloquence by tapping him under the
-      chin in exquisite playfulness with her fan, smiling roguishly at him
-      first, and then looking round the group with an air of chastened triumph
-      while she said:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Foolish man! Prithee remember, Ferdinand, that you are in a public place,
-      and that the secrets of the confessional are sacred. I protest that you
-      are exceeding a husband's privilege in revealing aught that I confessed
-      when taken aback at your sudden appearance before me!&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I ask your pardon, my angel,&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;I had no right to say even the
-      little that I have said. I suppose I shall learn discretion in time and
-      with practice. But when I think of the kindly interest that some of our
-      friends here showed in bringing us together, I feel that they should be
-      rewarded by a repetition of the whole story.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Nay, nay, sir, you may take my word for it that we look not for such a
-      reward,&rdquo; cried Garrick. &ldquo;Such philanthropists as Mrs. Thrale and myself
-      feel more than rewarded when we succeed in bringing together a lady and
-      gentleman who were so plainly intended by Providence for each other's
-      happiness.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It was Mr. Garrick who looked with the eyes of Providence into your case
-      as associated with Mr. Kendal, madam. That is, if Puck may ever be thought
-      of as assuming the rôle of Providence,&rdquo; said Mrs. Thrale. &ldquo;For myself, I
-      believe that Puck has more to do with the making of matches than heaven;
-      and assuredly in this particular case the mischievous fairy had more than
-      a finger. But however that may be, we can still wish you every happiness
-      in life, and offer you an apology for&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;H'sh!&rdquo; whispered Garrick, raising a hand. &ldquo;Rauzzini is beginning to sing.
-      I am sure, Mrs. Kendal, that you will willingly accept Signor Rauzzini's
-      song in lieu of Mrs. Thrale's apology, however admirably worded the latter
-      were sure to be.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      The bride smiled benignly at Mrs. Thrale, and there was more than a trace
-      of triumph in her smile.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Dr. Burney smiled also at the adroitness of the actor, who, he could
-      perceive, had no intention of allowing himself to be incriminated by any
-      confession, assuming the form of an apology, that Mrs. Thrale might make
-      in a moment of contrition for having been a partner with him in a piece of
-      fooling that had had a very different result from the one he (and she) had
-      looked for.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Garrick, still holding up a warning finger as if he had at heart the best
-      interests of the composer as well as the singer of &ldquo;Waft her, Angels,&rdquo;
-       prevented another word from being spoken, though more than a full minute
-      had passed before Rauzzini had breathed the first notes of the recitativo.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But incautiously lowering his finger when the handsome Roman had begun,
-      Mrs. Thrale took advantage of her release from the thraldom imposed upon
-      her, to say in a low tone, looking toward the gallery in front of which
-      the singer stood:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It is one angel talking to the others! Was there ever so angelic a man?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      And little Miss Burney, who had also her eyes fixed upon the singer, felt
-      that little Mrs. Thrale was not merely an angel, but a goddess. She
-      expressed her opinion to this effect in her next letter to Mr. Crisp.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      She listened in a dream to the singing that no one could hear and remain
-      unmoved, even though one had not the advantage of looking at the singer at
-      the same time. Fanny Burney was too shortsighted to be able to distinguish
-      one face from another at such a distance; but this made no difference to
-      her; she had the face of the sweet singer ever before her&mdash;most
-      clearly when she closed her eyes, as she did now, and listened to him.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Waft her, angels, to the skies&mdash;Waft her, angels, waft her, angels,
-      waft her to the skies,&rdquo; rang out his fervent imploration, and she felt
-      that there were no powers that could withstand the force of such an
-      appeal. For herself she felt carried away on the wings of song into the
-      highest heaven. She felt that harps of heaven alone could provide an
-      adequate accompaniment to such a voice as his; and she gave herself up to
-      it as unreservedly as a bride gives herself to the arms of her lover. She
-      had that sensation of a sweet yielding to the divine influence of the
-      music until she could feel it enfolding her and bearing her into the
-      infinite azure of a realm more beautiful than any that her dreams had
-      borne her to in the past. She wanted nothing better than this in any
-      world. All that she wanted was an assurance that it would continue for
-      ever and ever....
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      With the cessation of the singing she seemed to awaken from a dream of
-      divine delight, and in her awaking to retain the last thought that had
-      been hers&mdash;the longing for an assurance that the delight which she
-      was feeling would endure. She was awake now, and she knew that love had
-      been all her dream, and that what she longed for was the assurance that
-      that love would continue. And now she remembered that it was this same
-      longing that had brought about her resolution that she would never go to
-      her King as the beggar maid had gone to King Cophetua. There would be no
-      assurance of the continuing of love between them if she had the
-      humiliating feeling that he had stooped to raise her to his level.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      That was the thought which took possession of her mind when she had
-      returned from the sublimities to which she had been borne by her lover's
-      singing, and in another minute the reaction had come. She had been soaring
-      high, but now she was conscious of a sinking at heart; for the whole
-      building was resounding with acclamations of the singer. There did not
-      seem to be anyone silent, save only herself, throughout the hall. Everyone
-      seemed calling the name of Rauzzini&mdash;all seemed ready to throw
-      themselves at his feet; and when he stood up to acknowledge their tribute
-      of enthusiasm to his marvellous powers, there was something of frenzy in
-      the way his name was flung from hundreds of voices&mdash;it was not enough
-      for the people whom he had stirred to shout his name, they surrounded him
-      with the banners of a great conqueror&mdash;the air was quivering with the
-      lace and the silk that were being waved on all sides to do him honour&mdash;handkerchiefs,
-      scarves, fans&mdash;the air was full of them.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And there he stood high above them, smiling calmly and bending his head
-      gravely to right and left in acknowledgment of all....
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      That was his position before the world. Her heart sank within her as she
-      asked herself what was hers. How could she ever hope to attain to such a
-      place as should win from the world such applause as this? How could she
-      ever be so vain as to think that the giving of a little book to the world
-      should have an effect worthy of being compared with this demonstration
-      which was shaking the Pantheon?
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Her heart sank to a deeper depth still when the thunders had passed away&mdash;reluctantly
-      as the reverberations of a great storm&mdash;and there was a buzz of
-      voices all about her&mdash;exclamations of delight&mdash;whispers of
-      admiration&mdash;ladies with clasped hands, fervent in their words about
-      the marvellous face of the young Roman&mdash;and her father and his
-      friend, Mr. Fulke Greville, exchanging recollections of the singing of the
-      same air by other vocalists, and coming gradually to the conclusion that
-      none had put such feeling into it as had Rauzzini.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The buzz of voices did not cease when the singer had come down from his
-      gallery and was greeting some of his friends on the floor of the great
-      hall. He had trouble in making his way as far as the group which he meant
-      to reach. The most distinguished ladies of high quality had pressed round
-      him with uncritical expressions of appreciation of his singing, and there
-      was no lack of gentlemen of fashion to follow their example, though
-      wondering greatly that the ladies of quality should allow themselves to
-      show such transports respecting a man with no trait of a true-born
-      Englishman about him. Signor Rauzzini might have indulged in a score of
-      pinches of snuff out of the gold and enamelled boxes that were thrust
-      forward for his acceptance with the finest artificial grace of a period
-      when it was not thought effeminate to be graceful over small things.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      He bowed low to the ladies of quality, and smiled his polite rejection of
-      the snuff of the gentlemen of fashion. But such convenances made it
-      impossible for him to keep his eyes upon the group toward which he was
-      making a necessarily slow way, and he only reached the side of Dr. Burney
-      to find that Dr. Burney's daughter had disappeared. He had no chance of
-      seeing how Miss Burney at his approach had slipped behind a pillar and
-      suffered herself to be conducted thence to a seat by her cousin Edward:
-      the fact that Edward was learning to be a painter was a sufficient excuse
-      for his paying an occasional visit to such scenes of colour as were
-      unfolded before the eyes of a frequenter of the fashionable Pantheon every
-      night.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Fanny felt that if Signor Rauzzini had come to her side after passing
-      through the ranks of lace and velvet and brocade, she would have sunk
-      through the floor of the hall. But she knew that it was to her side he was
-      coming, and she took the opportunity of flying when he was compelled to
-      make a pause in front of the flattery of the Duchess of Ancaster.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      She was painfully shy at all times, but overwhelmingly so at that moment,
-      though she knew that she was the only woman in the place who would make
-      the attempt to evade the distinction which threatened her. How could she
-      remain where she had been with all eyes in the room upon her? She felt
-      that it would be impossible.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Her heart was beating quickly as she thought:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Not yet&mdash;not yet.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      After all there is no more womanly trait than that of fleeing from a
-      lover; but Fanny Burney was yielding to its impulse without an attempt to
-      analyse it, and without being consoled by the reflection of the woman of
-      the younger world, that if it is woman's instinct to fly from a lover, it
-      is a lover's instinct to pursue.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      She had scarcely finished the cup of ice which her cousin had brought her,
-      before the man had found her.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But now the Gabrielli was beginning to sing, and all eyes were directed
-      upon the Gabrielli, so that no one but Rauzzini saw how Dr. Burney's
-      over-shy daughter was flushing.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XIII
-    </h2>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HEY spoke in
-      French, with an occasional phrase in Italian when they found the other
-      tongue lacking in melody or in the exact shade of meaning that they sought
-      to express. Edward Burney thought that the moment was one that favoured
-      his ambition to study the pose of Madame Gabrielli, with a view to
-      starting on a portrait that should make him famous. He asked Fanny's
-      permission to allow him to take up a place a few yards beyond the pillar.
-      He promised not to be long absent, and Fanny had not the heart to detain
-      him.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You fled from me&mdash;was that kind?&rdquo; asked Rauzzini when the cousin had
-      moved away, but was still in view.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Ah,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;one who has my odious selfconsciousness does not ask what
-      is kind or unkind, she simply flies.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But you knew that I was coming to your side?&rdquo; said he.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I know that you are wise enough to value the criticism of a musician like
-      my father above the vapid phrases of the people of fashion,&rdquo; replied
-      Fanny.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That is true indeed,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;I value a word of praise or blame from
-      Dr. Burney as precious. But Dr. Burney has a daughter whose words are to
-      me as precious.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;She is not here to-night,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;My sister Esther, to whom you
-      refer, is indeed a discriminating critic. She told me how exquisitely you
-      sang at the concert where you met her&mdash;it is scarcely a fortnight
-      ago.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Dr. Burney has more daughters than that one,&rdquo; said he.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Fanny laughed.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;He has indeed more daughters than one,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;We were a household of
-      daughters before Esther married and when my brother was in the South Seas.
-      But only Esther is critical as a musician.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;In the name of heaven, do you think that it is only possible for me to
-      value words that refer to my singing?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;Do you not know that I
-      would rather listen to your voice than&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Than Madame Gabrielli's?&rdquo; said Fanny; he had spoken his last sentence in
-      too loud a tone, even though the Gabrielli's brilliant vocalism usually
-      admitted of a conversation being carried on with some vehemence in the
-      great room of the Pantheon without causing remark.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      He smiled at her warning, and it was in a subdued voice that he said:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I am tired of hearing the Gabrielli; but what of your voice? How often
-      have you given me the chance of hearing it? Even now you fled from me as
-      though I carried the plague about with me! Was that kind or unkind?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You do not entertain the thought that perhaps I have not yet tired of
-      Madame Gabrielli's vocalism: I knew that she was at the point of beginning
-      her aria.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You would sacrifice me on the altar of your favourite? Well, perhaps you
-      would be justified in doing so. Hold up your finger now and I shall be
-      mute as a fish until Gabrielli has had her last shriek. I can still look
-      at you&mdash;it will not spoil your appreciation of the aria if I merely
-      look at you.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I think I would rather that you talked to me than merely looked at me. I
-      do not invite people to look at me, and happily few people do. I am not
-      conspicuous. I am the insignificant one. There is Mrs. Thrale, for
-      instance; she has been several times at our house, and every time she
-      comes she inquires who is the little one.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      He smiled and held up his finger in imitation of the way she had rebuked
-      him for talking too loud.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;H'sh; I am anxious to hear the Signora Gabrielli,&rdquo; he said, and the
-      express on that he made his face assume at that moment would have
-      convinced anyone that he was giving all his attention to the singing&mdash;drinking
-      in every note with the earnestness of an enthusiast. There was a certain
-      boyish exaggeration in his expression that was very amusing to Fanny,
-      though less observing persons would have been ready to accept it as
-      evidence of the generous appreciation on the part of one great singer of
-      the success of another.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      So he remained until the <i>cavatina</i> had come to an end; and then he
-      was loudest in his cry of &ldquo;Brava!&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It is a treat&mdash;a great&mdash;a sacred treat,&rdquo; said he, turning to
-      Fanny. &ldquo;I do not think I ever heard that song before. Has it a name, I
-      wonder?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;If I mistake not it is from an opera in which a certain Roman tenore made
-      a name for himself last year, in happy conjunction with Madame Gabrielli,&rdquo;
-       said Fanny.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Is it possible? I had not heard of that circumstance,&rdquo; said he, with a
-      look of the most charming innocence in his large eyes. It was his hands
-      that were most expressive, however, as he added:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But it was last year, you say, mademoiselle? Ah, who is it that remembers
-      an opera from one year to another? No one, except the <i>impresario</i>
-      who has lost his good money, or somebody's else's money, over its
-      production. Enough, the <i>cantatrice</i> has given us of her best, and is
-      there now any reason why we should remain dumb? The great charm of the
-      singing of these brilliant artistes of last year's operas is that when
-      they have sung, they have sung&mdash;they leave one nothing to think about
-      afterward. Is not that so, mademoiselle?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;They leave one nothing to think about&mdash;except their singing,&rdquo; said
-      Fanny. &ldquo;For myself, I am still thinking of 'Waft her, angels,' although
-      nearly half an hour must have passed since I heard the last notes. And it
-      seems to me that when half a century will have passed I shall still be
-      thinking of it.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      He did not offer her the conventional acknowledgement of a bow. He only
-      looked at her with those large eyes of his; they were capable of
-      expressing in a single glance all the tenderness of feeling of a poem.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I have not sung in vain,&rdquo; he said in a low tone. &ldquo;My old <i>maestro</i>
-      gave me the advice one day when I was proving to him my success in
-      reaching the high note which I had been striving for years to bring into
-      my compass: 'That is all very well,' he said. 'You have aimed at touching
-      that rare note, now your aim must be to touch the heart of everyone who
-      hears you sing.' I sometimes think that he set for me too difficult a
-      task.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Not too difficult&mdash;for you,&rdquo; said she.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;There are dangers,&rdquo; he said thoughtfully. &ldquo;I have known singers who tried
-      to reach the hearts of their hearers by tricks&mdash;yes, and they
-      succeeded through these illegitimate means in making themselves popular,
-      while far better singers who had a scorn of such tricks and gave their
-      best to all who listened to them, failed to please anyone who had not a
-      knowledge of the true boundary of music.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I have seen these tricksters, too,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;I have witnessed their
-      sentimental grimaces&mdash;their head shakings&mdash;their appeal to the
-      feelings with pathetic eyes turned heavenward. They made me ashamed of
-      them&mdash;ashamed of myself for listening to them, though people about me
-      had been moved to tears. But I think that the people who are easily moved
-      to tears are those who retain an impression the shortest space of time.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You give me confidence&mdash;encouragement,&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;I have made up my
-      mind that if I cannot reach a heart by the straight King's highway, I will
-      not try to do so by any bypath. Bypaths are, we know, the resorts of
-      brigands: they may captivate a heart or two, but only to leave them empty
-      afterwards.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      So they talked together for many minutes. Faney Burney had a sufficient
-      acquaintance among musicians, vocal as well as instrumental, to have
-      learned, long ago, that they can easily be prevented from talking on any
-      other subject than music, and the same reflection that had caused her to
-      say that &ldquo;Not yet&mdash;not yet,&rdquo; had impelled her to lead Rauzzini in
-      another direction than that in which he had shown so strong a tendency to
-      go. He had been trying to make her understand that he had travelled
-      through the obstructions of the hall not in order that he might obtain the
-      criticism of so accomplished a <i>maestro</i> as Dr. Burney upon his
-      singing, but in order that he should have a chance of talking to Dr.
-      Burney's unaccomplished daughter; he had shown her that his wish was to
-      converse on the topic of this unaccomplished daughter; but she had no mind
-      to acquiesce in his aims for the present. She still felt herself to be the
-      beggar maid, and she would not allow her king to get any nearer to her.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It was not until her cousin had returned to where she was seated, that the
-      young Italian found that he had not made much progress with his suit. He
-      had intended that this <i>tête-à-tête</i> with her should make her aware
-      of how he felt in regard to her, but he had allowed his opportunity to
-      pass, and in place of talking about her he had been led to talk of
-      himself.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      That was how he expressed himself to her when he found that their <i>tête-à-tête</i>
-      was at an end.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;How has this come about?&rdquo; he cried in surprise. &ldquo;How is it that I have
-      shown myself to be so vain as to make speeches about my singing when I
-      meant to talk to you of yourself?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;'Twas I who found a more profitable topic for you, <i>signore mio</i>,&rdquo;
-       she replied, feeling her way through the words of his native tongue, for
-      he had spoken out his surprise in Italian.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      He shook his head and made a gesture with his hands.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But it is a mystery!&rdquo; he said in French. &ldquo;I had no desire to talk about
-      myself or my singing. I meant to tell you what was in my mind when I saw
-      you entering this place with your father. Shall we retrace our steps in
-      our conversation until I find how it was that I took a wrong turning?
-      Alas! I fear that it would not be possible!&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It would not be possible, indeed,&rdquo; she replied. &ldquo;Did you not say
-      something about the bypaths being dangerous with banditti? We kept our
-      feet upon the King's highway, which is safe. I was swept off my feet&mdash;carried
-      away&mdash;away&mdash;by your singing of the aria; I had scarce touched
-      the earth once more when you came to my side, and now we are parting
-      happily, you to realize your aspirations, I to&mdash;to&mdash;well, to
-      retain for ever the memory of your singing&mdash;the memory of those
-      celestial harmonies into the midst of which I was wafted by the angels of
-      your imploration. That is enough for one evening of my life. Nay, you must
-      not speak another word lest the charm of all should fade away. I shall go
-      home to dream of angels.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And I shall go to dream of you,&rdquo; he said in a low tone.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      He did not hold her hand so long as Thomas Barlowe had done when parting
-      from her, but she felt that somehow he had accomplished more by his
-      reserve than Thomas had achieved by his impetuosity. She hoped that she
-      might never see Thomas again; but for Signor Rauzzini&mdash;&mdash;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      They parted.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XIV
-    </h2>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HESE foreigners!&rdquo;
-       exclaimed young Edward Burney when Rauzzini had left them, and Fanny was
-      asking her cousin if her father was not looking for her. &ldquo;These
-      foreigners! Your father is talking with another of them&mdash;an Italian
-      too, as I live&mdash;I have seen him in St. Martin's Street&mdash;Signor
-      Piozzi. But I suppose Uncle Burney likes to keep in touch with them. The
-      town is swarming with them: they are even to be found about Leicester
-      Fields. Why do some people fancy that we must have Italians to sing for
-      us? There are plenty of good singers in England, without a drop of foreign
-      blood in their veins. A good sea song with a chorus that is easy to get
-      into the swing of&mdash;that's English and honest.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Honest down to the hoarsest note,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;You and James are at one
-      in the matter of songs.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Cousin Jim hates foreigners, as is quite proper that an officer in a
-      King's ship should,&rdquo; said Edward stoutly.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Not all foreigners,&rdquo; said Fanny smiling. &ldquo;You forget how kindly he took
-      to Prince Omai.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, a South Sea Islander is different,&rdquo; cried her cousin. &ldquo;I expect that
-      the South Seas will soon become as English as ourselves if Captain Cook
-      goes on discovering islands.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Edward,&rdquo; said Fanny, after a pause sufficient to allow of the
-      introduction of a new topic; &ldquo;Edward, could you make it convenient to call
-      at the Orange Coffee House some day soon to inquire if there is another
-      letter for Mr. Grafton?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I'll not omit it on any account,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;Oh, yes, Mr. Grafton, I'll
-      collect your correspondence for you, never fear. You have not let anyone
-      else into the secret, I hope?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No one knows it except Susy and Lottie and Charles and Hetty; but Hetty
-      only knows that I wrote the book, not that it is to be printed&mdash;Charles
-      is still away from us, or I would not trouble you, Edward.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Poor Charlie grew tired of the Orange Coffee House, did he not? He told
-      me how you made him your messenger at first, disguising him in a cloak and
-      a gentleman's hat, so that he might not seem quite the boy that he was.
-      But how the secret has been kept so well is a wonder to me&mdash;kept from
-      the powers that be, I mean&mdash;uncle and aunt. I wonder if your mother
-      never had a suspicion of what was going on, especially as she knew all
-      about your writing long ago.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I think that it was the copying out of the padre's History that saved
-      me,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;Many a page of my novel I wrote when she believed that I
-      was copying the notes for the History&mdash;yes, that, and the letters
-      which Mr. Crisp insists on my sending him every week. But even with these
-      excuses I could sometimes not get through more than three or four pages of
-      my own book during a whole week.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;How will you look when the secret is let out&mdash;it must be let out
-      some day, you know? If the writing a novel is thought shocking, how will
-      Uncle Burney receive the news, think you? He has not yet given you leave
-      to publish it.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      There was a troubled look on poor Fanny's face as she replied, after a
-      pause:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I have often meant to ask father's permission, but I was not able to
-      summon up courage enough to face him with the whole truth. But it cannot
-      be delayed much longer. Perhaps I might write him a letter about it some
-      time when I am at Chessington.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I don't envy you the duty, my dear Fanny,&rdquo; said lie. &ldquo;But I think that
-      the sooner you get it over the easier you will feel. I suppose that
-      writing a novel is worse than writing a 'History of Music.' I wonder why
-      you took so much trouble over the business.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I could not help it,&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;I have often wondered myself why I was
-      sitting up in that cold room at the top of the house, writing until my
-      fingers were benumbed, when I might have been at my comfortable sewing in
-      front of a fire downstairs; but I could not help it&mdash;I could not help
-      doing it, Eddy.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Eddy never reached that point in his career as a painter when he found the
-      artist's impulse to create too great to be resisted. He could not
-      appreciate her explanation.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;'I couldn't help it,' that's what we were used to say long ago, when we
-      got into mischief; I hope that Uncle Burney and Aunt Burney&mdash;don't
-      forget her in this matter&mdash;I hope that they will accept your excuse.
-      Anyhow, you may trust me to act as your 'Mr. Grafton' at the Orange Coffee
-      House some day this week.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      He caught a glimpse of his uncle, Dr. Burney, sitting with Mr. Greville,
-      so that he had no trouble in placing Fanny once more in charge of her
-      father. He could see that the girl was a little downcast, and tried to
-      cheer her up a bit by whispering in a sly way into her ear:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Good-night, Mr. Grafton; my best respects to Mrs. Grafton and the
-      children&mdash;especially Evelina.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      The smile that Fanny gave in acknowledgment of his pleasantry did not
-      quite carry conviction that his well-meant effort had been successful. He
-      went away feeling as much sympathy for her as was possible for him to have
-      in common with the reflection that if she was in a difficult position, it
-      was wholly one of her own seeking. What could have induced a girl who had
-      been carefully brought up, and provided with an excellent stepmother, to
-      write a novel, placing herself thereby on a level with those dreadful
-      ladies whose productions were prohibited in every self-respecting
-      household and only read by stealth when obtained at a cost of twopence&mdash;more
-      than the best of them were worth&mdash;at the circulating library?
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Yes, poor Fanny was undoubtedly to be pitied; but she had really only
-      herself to blame for the trouble that was looming in front of her when the
-      secret of her authorship should be revealed to her father and her
-      excellent stepmother&mdash;one of the best judges to be found anywhere of
-      all sorts of needlework&mdash;not merely plain sewing and buttonholing,
-      but satin stitch, herring-boning and running and felling.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The very next day Cousin Edward called at St. Martin's Street, carrying
-      with him a small parcel neatly done up in white paper. He was lucky enough
-      to find Fanny and Susan alone in the work-room; and after asking
-      mysteriously if there was any chance of his uncle or aunt coming upon
-      them, and being assured that they were both away for the day, he carefully
-      locked the door of the room, saying in the whisper of a man of plots and
-      mysteries:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;'Tis better to be sure than sorry. In matters of this nature 'tis
-      impossible to be too cautious.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      He then handed the parcel to Fanny, who gave an exclamation when she saw
-      that it was addressed:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;<i>To Mr. Grafton, at the Orange Coffee House, Orange Street</i>.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      She opened the parcel, and found it to contain a printer's unbound copy of
-      a book, the title page of which stared up at her: &ldquo;<i>Evelina; or, A Young
-      Lady's Entrance into the World</i>,&rdquo; and with it was a letter from Mr.
-      Lowndes, the bookseller, presenting his compliments to Mr. Grafton, with
-      the request that Mr. Grafton would read the book and prove it as soon as
-      possible, returning the list of errata to Mr. Lowndes, so that the edition
-      might go to press for early publication.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      There it lay on the table in front of her. She read the letter standing,
-      and remained on her feet, looking down at the unbound book. It had a
-      queer, half-dressed appearance, lacking covers; and when, after some
-      minutes of silence, Susy took a step or two closer to it, and, with her
-      hand on Fanny's arm, looked down on it also, the picture that they made
-      suggested two sisters looking into the cradle where the first baby of one
-      of them lay. The expression on Susy's face&mdash;a mingling of wonder and
-      curiosity, with delight not far off&mdash;was exactly that which the
-      younger sister of the picture might be expected to wear, catching a
-      glimpse of the undressed morsel of humanity in its first cot.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Susy put her hand down to it, and moved the printed sheets about. She read
-      the title page down to the last name on the imprint, and then she flung up
-      her hands, crying:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;How lovely! how lovely! But it seems wonderful! How did it come into
-      being? It looks like a real thing now that we see it printed. The copy
-      that you wrote out in that disguised hand seemed somehow quite different
-      from this. There is life in this. It feels warm, actually warm, Fanny. Oh,
-      don't you love it, dear?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Fanny, the young mother, shook her head, but with no significance, so far
-      as Susy could see.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;'Tis too late now,&rdquo; said Edward gloomily, taking on himself the burden of
-      interpreting that head-shake. &ldquo;You are bound down to go on with it now.
-      You should have thought of all this before.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What nonsense is this you are talking?&rdquo; cried Susy, turning upon him
-      almost indignantly; for his tone suggested an aspersion upon the
-      offspring. &ldquo;What do you say is too late now? Do you mean to say that
-      there's anything to be ashamed of in this? Cannot you see that she did not
-      put her name to it? Who is there to know that it came from this house? The
-      name of Burney nowhere appears on it.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That's so much, at any rate,&rdquo; said he.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Do you mean to say that you don't think it quite wonderful, Eddy?&rdquo; cried
-      Susy. &ldquo;And getting twenty pounds for it&mdash;twenty pounds! And you say
-      something about it being too late!&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I only judged from the way Fanny shook her head,&rdquo; said he.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, that was not what Fanny was thinking at all&mdash;now was it, Fanny?&rdquo;
-       said Susy encouragingly to her sister.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I don't know quite what I meant or what I mean even now,&rdquo; replied Fanny.
-      &ldquo;It made me feel for the moment somehow as if I had appeared in a street
-      full of people before I had quite finished dressing!&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; exclaimed Edward.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But that is nonsense, dear,&rdquo; said Susy, still consolatory. &ldquo;The book is
-      not yourself.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Not all myself, but part of myself&mdash;that is what I feel,&rdquo; said
-      Fanny.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I cannot see that that is so. You are you&mdash;you yourself quite apart
-      from the book. Whatever the book may be, you will still remain Fanny
-      Burney, the best daughter and the best sister in the world. What does it
-      matter if people&mdash;foolish people who know nothing about it&mdash;laugh
-      at it or say nasty things about it? Do you think that that will make any
-      of us like you the less?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      She put her arm about Fanny and kissed her on the cheek, and Fanny's tears
-      began to fall. The young man standing by felt more uneasy than he had ever
-      felt in his life. He crossed the room and looked out of the window,
-      turning his back upon the scene of the sisters. He did not know what to
-      say to a girl when once she allowed herself to weep. He wished with all
-      his heart that he had not been dragged into this business. But Fanny's
-      tears convinced him that his first impression of her reception of her book
-      was the correct one: she was, like other young mothers he had heard of,
-      bitterly repentant when it was too late.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The next sound of which he became aware was of the crinkling of the stiff
-      paper of the wrapper. One of the girls was folding up the parcel. He
-      glanced round and saw that it was Fanny herself who was so engaged. She
-      had dried her tears; the expression on her face was one of resignation&mdash;one
-      of determination to make the best of a bad matter.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Ah, that's better,&rdquo; said he, going to her and picking up the string from
-      the floor. &ldquo;There's no use crying over spilt milk, is there, Fanny? We
-      have all kept your secret loyally, and no one need ever know that you so
-      far forgot yourself. Certainly the revelation will never come from my
-      lips.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Fanny burst out laughing.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, dear Eddy, you are the best cousin that any poor girl could have,&rdquo;
-       she said. &ldquo;Your words have helped me greatly. They have helped to make me
-      feel what is the aspect of the world in regard to my poor little story. It
-      has been my constant companion night and day for three years and more. I
-      worked at it in the cold and I tried how I could improve pages of it,
-      copying it and recopying it; I practised a duplicity which was foreign to
-      my nature in writing it&mdash;I have deceived my father and my mother
-      about it&mdash;I wasted my eyesight over it&mdash;I robbed myself of sleep
-      so that I might complete it, and when it was completed I lay awake in
-      anxiety lest no bookseller would look at it, all this trouble I had with
-      it, so that the world might have of my best, and what is the verdict of
-      the world after all this? You have pronounced it, dear Eddy&mdash;you said
-      thoughtfully and consolingly&mdash;'There's no use crying over spilt
-      milk.' You are quite right. Not another tear will I shed over this poor
-      little bantling of mine. 'A Young Lady's Entrance into the World'? Nay,
-      call it rather a rickety brat that should never have made its entrance
-      into the world at all.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I should be ashamed of myself if I ever spoke of it in such terms,&rdquo; cried
-      Susy, looking indignantly at her cousin as though he had abused it in that
-      phrase. &ldquo;'Rickety brat,' indeed! Oh, I should be ashamed. It looked so
-      much alive&mdash;more alive, I think, than if it was in its covers. Let us
-      sit down and read it together, Fanny.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Cousin Edward felt that he was being badly treated between these sisters.
-      That last remark of Susy was rather more than a suggestion that he might
-      go as soon as it pleased him. He had not any previous experience of young
-      women and their offspring. He could not know that their attitude in such
-      circumstances is one of hostility to the male&mdash;that they resent his
-      appearance as an intrusion.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I am glad that you are so pleased,&rdquo; said he, with only a trace of
-      irritability in his voice. &ldquo;And I am glad that I have been of any use to
-      you, Cousin Fanny. After all, the thing is yours, not Susy's.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That is true, indeed,&rdquo; cried Fanny. &ldquo;And it is I who offer you my
-      gratitude for your help. Believe me, Eddy, I am sensible of the adroitness
-      you have shown in this matter ever since we let you into our secret; and
-      if any trouble comes from what we have done you may be quite sure that I
-      will accept the entire responsibility for it.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, so far as that goes, I do not shrink from taking my share,&rdquo; said he
-      magnanimously. &ldquo;I do not feel quite without blame&mdash;I am a man and I
-      should have warned you at the outset. But you had nearly finished it
-      before I heard anything of it&mdash;you must not forget that.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That is true indeed,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;I was self-willed. I wonder was it
-      vanity that impelled me. Never mind! It cannot be helped now. It may never
-      be heard of again.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;There's always that to remember,&rdquo; said he, with the eagerness of a
-      drowning man grasping at a straw.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And I believe that the chances are greatly in favour of that hope being
-      realized. Thank you again for your encouragement, dear Eddy,&rdquo; said she.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, that's nothing&mdash;nothing worth talking about,&rdquo; said he, picking
-      up his gloves. &ldquo;You can command me always, Cousin Fanny. And you have seen
-      that I can keep a secret. Now mind you don't leave that lying about&rdquo;&mdash;he
-      pointed to the parcel, the string of which Susy was knotting&mdash;&ldquo;and,
-      be advised by me, turn the key in the lock when you are working at it.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Susy, &ldquo;we'll be sure to do our best to prevent anyone from
-      suspecting that we have a secret, by locking ourselves in.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Caution&mdash;nothing like caution,&rdquo; said he in a whisper, unfastening
-      the door and putting his head out to glance to right and left of the short
-      corridor. He held up his finger. &ldquo;All safe so far,&rdquo; he whispered; &ldquo;no one
-      is in sight.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XV
-    </h2>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE moment he
-      disappeared, Susy slipped the knot which she had just made on the parcel
-      and flung the paper away.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Now we can settle down to it properly, Fanny,&rdquo; she cried, catching up the
-      bundle of unstitched sheets and throwing herself back upon the little
-      sofa. &ldquo;Come beside me, dear, and we shall go through every word together.
-      Never mind what Eddy said; I think it looks quite lovely, and how easily
-      it reads&mdash;just like poetry&mdash;'Evelina'!&mdash;how did you think
-      of that sweet name?&mdash;'<i>or, A Young Lady's Entrance into the World</i>.'
-      Not a mistake so far. The printers must surely be careful men! And now
-      that you come to think of it, this is really the entrance of the Young
-      Lady into the world. Here she is, smiling, but a little shy&mdash;just
-      like her mamma&mdash;your Evelina takes after you, dear&mdash;now, confess
-      that there is something agreeably shy in the italics printing of that line
-      beginning with '<i>A Young Lady's Entrance</i>,' Fanny; it may be wrong to
-      write a novel, but don't you think that this is worth it? Edward is a
-      goose to talk as he did about crying over spilt milk. I wonder that you
-      had patience to listen to him.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Eddy is a dear boy, and he only said what he knew nearly everybody else
-      would be disposed to say about this business. I started the story, as you
-      know, half in fun&mdash;by way of exercising my hand&mdash;but then it got
-      hold of me, and it became deadly earnest, and now&mdash;oh, Susy, what I
-      feel now about it is just what I said to Edward: it seems as if it were
-      the best part of myself that I am giving to the world. I wonder if it is
-      right for anyone who has written a book, if it be only a novel, to look
-      upon it in that light.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why should it not be right? Didn't you put all your thoughts into it, and
-      are not one's thoughts part of oneself?&rdquo; said Susy. &ldquo;And although so many
-      people look down upon novels&mdash;all the novels that have been written
-      since Mr. Richardson died&mdash;still&mdash;oh, did not Dr. Johnson once
-      write a novel? Yes, 'Rasselas' was what he called it. I tried to read it
-      but&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;H'sh, Susy. Dr. Johnson might write anything that he pleased. Though Dr.
-      Johnson wrote a novel, that should be no excuse for such as I having the
-      audacity to do the like.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I suppose that's what some people will say. But I can't see that if a
-      good man does an evil thing, it becomes a good thing simply because he
-      does it.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Stop, Susy: I remember that he confessed to someone, who told it to Mr.
-      Crisp, that he had written 'Rasselas' in order to get money enough to pay
-      for his mother's funeral.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, in that case&mdash;might he not have written something a good deal
-      better, Fanny? Oh, I see that you are stricken with horror at my thinking
-      anything that came from Dr. Johnson to be dull. I daresay I began reading
-      it too soon: I should have waited until I had learned that if a great man
-      writes a book it is a great book, but that if a simple girl writes a novel&mdash;well,
-      there's no use crying over spilt milk. Now that's the last word that I
-      have to say, for I mean to read every word that's printed here&mdash;here&mdash;here!&rdquo;
-       She brought down her open hand on the topmost sheets of &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; in three
-      crescendo slaps, and then tucked her feet under her and buried herself in
-      the book.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Fanny sat laughing beside her; and when Susy paid no attention to her
-      laughter, she continued sitting there in silence, while Susy read page
-      after page.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Several minutes had passed before the authoress asked:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;How does the thing read, dear?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Susy gave a start at the sound of her voice and looked around her as if
-      she had just been awakened. This should have been enough for Fanny. She
-      should not have repeated her question: it was already answered.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;How does the thing read, Susy?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;How does it read?&rdquo; cried Susy. &ldquo;Oh, Fanny, it reads exactly like a book&mdash;exactly.
-      There is no difference between this and a real book. Oh, 'tis a thousand
-      times nicer to read in print than it was as you wrote it. It is so good,
-      too!&mdash;the best story I ever read! I can't understand how you ever
-      came to write it. You who have seen nothing of life&mdash;how did such a
-      story ever come to you?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I wish I knew,&rdquo; replied Fanny. &ldquo;And do you think that anyone else will
-      read it now that it is printed?&rdquo; she asked (she was rapidly acquiring the
-      most prominent traits of the complete novel writer).
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Anyone else? Nay, everyone&mdash;everyone will read it, and everyone will
-      love it. How could anyone help&mdash;even daddy and mamma? Now please
-      don't interrupt me again.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Down went Susy's face once more among the printed sheets, and Fanny
-      watched her with delight. She had been quite ready a short time before to
-      accept the verdict of Cousin Edward as equivalent to that of the public
-      upon her book; and now she was prepared to accept Susy as the
-      representative of all readers of taste and discrimination.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Edward&mdash;psha! What could he know about it?&rdquo; she was ready to
-      exclaim: every moment was bringing her nearer to the complete novelist.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Surely,&rdquo; she thought, &ldquo;there can be no dearer pleasure in life than to
-      watch the effect of one's own book upon an appreciative reader!&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      (The appreciative reader is always the one who is favourably impressed;
-      the other sort knows nothing about what constitutes an interesting book.)
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It was the first draught of which she had ever partaken of this particular
-      cup of happiness, and it was a bombard. She was draining it to the very
-      dregs: it was making her intoxicated, even though it was only offered to
-      her by her younger sister, who had never read half a dozen novels in all
-      her life, and these surreptitiously. She could know by the varying changes
-      in expression on Susy's face what place she had come to in the book: the
-      turning over of the pages was no guide to her, for she had no idea of the
-      quantity of her writing the printers had put into a page, but she had no
-      trouble in finding Susy's place, so exquisitely reflective was the girl's
-      face of the incidents among which she was wandering. Surely little Susy
-      had always been her favourite sister (she was smiling at one of the
-      drolleries of characterization upon which she had come); oh, there could
-      be no doubt that she had never loved any of her sisters as she loved Susy
-      (Susy's eyes were now becoming watery, and Fanny knew that she had-reached
-      the first of Evelina's troubles).
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It was the happiest hour of Fanny's life, and she gave herself up to it.
-      She did not feel any irresistible desire to judge for herself if the
-      opinion expressed by Susy respecting the story was correct or otherwise.
-      She had no impulse to see how her ideas &ldquo;looked in print.&rdquo; She was content
-      to observe the impression they were making upon her first lay reader. She
-      had a vague suspicion that her own pleasure in reading the book would be
-      infinitely less than the pleasure she derived from following the course of
-      the story in her sister's face.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Half an hour had actually passed before Susy seemed to awaken to the
-      realities of life. She jumped up from the sofa with an exclamation of
-      surprise, and then glanced down at Fanny with an inquiring look on her
-      face&mdash;a puzzled look that gave the seal to Fanny's happiness.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You are wondering how I come to be here, Susy,&rdquo; said she smiling. &ldquo;You
-      are wondering how I come to be mixed up with the Branghtons and the
-      Mervains and the rest of them. You would make me out to be an enchantress
-      carrying you into the midst of a strange society; and I don't want any
-      more delightful compliments, dear.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, Fanny, 'tis so wonderful&mdash;so&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I don't want to hear anything about it beyond what you have already told
-      me, my dear Susy. I watched your face and it told me all. Give me a kiss,
-      Susy. You have given me a sensation of pleasure such as I never knew
-      before, and such as, I fear, I shall never know again.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      In an instant the two girls were in each other's arms, mingling their
-      tears and then their laughter, but exchanging no word until they had
-      exhausted every other means of expressing what they felt.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It was Susy who spoke first.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Take it away, Fanny,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Take the book away, for I know that if I
-      read any more of it I shall betray your secret to all the house. They will
-      read it on my face every time I look at you.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I think that the hour has come for me to relieve you of the precious
-      book,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;There is the letter from Mr. Lowndes asking me to make
-      out the list of errata as quickly as possible, and I do believe that I
-      shall have to read the book before I can oblige him.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;'Twas thoughtless for me to jump into the middle as I did, when you had
-      to read it,&rdquo; cried Susy. &ldquo;But there is really no mistake on any page, so
-      far as I could see.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Unless the whole is a mistake,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;But I will not suggest that
-      now, having seen your face while you were devouring it. Dear Susy, if I
-      find many such readers I shall be happy.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      She gathered together the loose sheets and carried them off to the little
-      room at the top of the house where it was understood she wrote her long
-      weekly letter to Mr. Crisp, who had made himself a hermit at Chessington,
-      but who, like some other hermits, looked forward with impatience to the
-      delightful glimpses of the world which he had forsaken, afforded to him on
-      every page written by her.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Susy did not see her again until dinner-time, and by that time the younger
-      girl felt that she had herself under such complete control that she could
-      preserve inviolate the secret of the authorship until it should cease to
-      be a secret. The result of her rigid control of herself was that her
-      brother James said to her when they were having tea in the drawing-room:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What was the matter with you at dinner, Sue? You looked as if you were
-      aware that something had happened and you were fearful lest it might be
-      found out. Have you broken a china ornament, or has the cat been turning
-      over the leaves of the 'History of Music' with her claws, and left her
-      signature on the morocco of the cover?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What nonsense!&rdquo; cried Susan. &ldquo;Nothing has happened. What was there to
-      happen, prithee tell me?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Ah, that is beyond my power,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;I suppose you girls will have
-      your secrets&mdash;ay, ay; until some day you reveal them to another girl
-      with the strictest of cautions never to let the matter go beyond her&mdash;and
-      so forth&mdash;and so forth. Never mind, I'll not be the one to tempt you
-      to blab. I never yet had a secret told to me that was worth wasting words
-      over.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;If I had a secret of importance I think that you would be a safe person
-      to tell it to,&rdquo; said Susy.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You are right there,&rdquo; he assented with a nautical wink. &ldquo;You could find
-      in me the safest depository you could wish for; you might safely depend
-      upon my forgetting all about it within the hour.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      He did not trouble her any further, but she felt somewhat humiliated to
-      think that she had had so little control of herself as to cause her
-      brother's suspicions to be aroused. She thought that it would only be a
-      matter of minutes when her father or her stepmother would approach her
-      with further questions. Happily, however, it seemed that James was the
-      keenest observer in the household, for no one put a question to her
-      respecting her tell-tale face.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Still she was glad when she found herself safely and snugly in bed and so
-      in a position to whisper across the room to her sister Charlotte the news
-      that Fanny's novel had been printed and that a copy was safely locked up
-      in Fanny's desk, and that it looked lovely in its new form.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Charlotte was greatly excited, but thought that Fanny might have told her
-      the news before dinner.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Poor Fanny! she will have to tell the Padre to-morrow and ask his leave
-      to&mdash;to do what she has already done without it. Poor Fanny!&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XVI
-    </h2>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> FEW days later
-      Dr. Burney was at the point of setting out for Chessington to share Mr.
-      Crisp's hermitage until the end of the week. He had already said good-bye
-      to the household; but Fanny accompanied him to the door. It was her last
-      chance, she knew. She had long ago made up her mind that one of her
-      secrets must be told to him, and she had more than once, since the printed
-      sheets had been brought to her, tried to screw up her courage to the point
-      of telling him, but she had not yet succeeded. And now he was going to
-      Chessington for four days, and in the meantime the book should be returned
-      to the printer. It was the last chance she would have of discharging the
-      duty which was incumbent on her. She had been hovering around him in the
-      hall, shaking out his gloves for him, polishing the gold knob of his cane,
-      picking a scrap of dust from the collar of his travelling-cloak. In
-      another minute he would be gone&mdash;her opportunity would be gone.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And then came the relieving thought of further procrastination:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I shall write to him at Chessington and confess all.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      It seemed as though she had uttered her thought aloud, for he turned to
-      her with his hand on the latch of the hall door, saying:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You will write to Chessington to-morrow or the day after, my dear. It is
-      no trouble to you to write. You enjoy it, do you not?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, it is my chief enjoyment. That is why I have been practising it so
-      much, just as the others have been practising their music. I have no music
-      in my soul, so I&mdash;I have been writing. Of course, it is not to be
-      expected that I could do more than write some nonsense&mdash;my equivalent
-      to the strumming of the scales.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It pleases me greatly to hear that,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;But you do yourself an
-      injustice; Mr. Crisp never ceases to praise your letters.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;He is praising his own pupil then,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;for 'twas he who first
-      taught me how to write, and now I have been putting together some
-      imaginary letters, and I thought that if he could see them printed in
-      front of him he would be amused.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Imaginary letters? Why not continue your real ones, my dear? It would
-      cost a great deal to have your imaginary ones printed.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;My dear father,&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;you surely do not think that I would ask you
-      for money to pay for my whim? But if I could prevail on someone&mdash;a
-      bookseller&mdash;to print what I write, I hope you will consent to my
-      doing so&mdash;not putting my name to the thing, of course?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And does my Fanny believe that 'tis all so easy to persuade a bookseller
-      to pay her printer's bill?&rdquo; he said, pinching her ear. &ldquo;Booksellers are
-      shrewd men of business.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But even men of business have their weak moments,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;And so if&mdash;if&mdash;you
-      would not think it too bold of me to let James take my parcel to a
-      bookseller? You would not forbid me to try to realize my ambition?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You may be sure that the one to frustrate your aims will not be your
-      father,&rdquo; said he, smiling shrewdly. &ldquo;I will consent if&mdash;ah, there is
-      the fatal if&mdash;if your bookseller consents. Now goodbye, my dear
-      child. I will take your love to your Daddy Crisp, and tell him to await a
-      real letter from you&mdash;not an imaginary one.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      She stood on tiptoe to kiss him&mdash;but even then he had to stoop before
-      his lips were on her forehead.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      He was gone in another moment. She stood at the inner side of the closed
-      door and listened to the rattling of the wheels of the chaise over the
-      cobble-stones.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      So the ordeal that she dreaded had been faced, and how simple a thing it
-      had turned out after all! Her father had treated the idea which she had
-      submitted to him as if it were nothing beyond the thought of a simpleton&mdash;a
-      foolish, simple girl who knew nothing of the world of business and
-      booksellers, and who fancied that a bookseller would print everything that
-      was sent to him.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      He had delivered that contingent &ldquo;if&rdquo; with the shake of the head and the
-      shrewd smile of one who is acquainted with the seamy side of business, in
-      the presence of a child who fancies that printing follows automatically
-      upon the writing of a book and that there are thousands of buyers eagerly
-      awaiting the chance of securing everything that passes through a
-      printing-press. She had perceived just what was in his mind; and his
-      consent, followed by that contingent &ldquo;if,&rdquo; to her publishing what she had
-      written, was given to her with the same freedom that would have
-      accompanied his permission to appropriate all the gold used in paving the
-      streets of the City. She could see from the way he smiled that he felt
-      that she knew as little about the conditions under which books are printed
-      as a child does about the paving of the streets of the City.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      She knew that he would never again refer to the subject of those imaginary
-      letters of hers&mdash;he would be too considerate of her feelings to do
-      so; he would have no desire to humiliate her. He would not even rally her
-      in a playful way about her literary work, asking her how the printing was
-      progressing, and if she had made up her mind to start a coach as grand as
-      that magnificent piece of carved and gilded furniture which Sir Joshua had
-      just had built for himself&mdash;oh, no: her father had always respected
-      her sensibility. Years ago, when her brothers and sisters were making
-      their light jests upon her backwardness, he had stopped them and said that
-      he had no fears for the future of Fanny; and she was certain that in
-      referring to her, as he so frequently did, as &ldquo;poor Fanny,&rdquo; he meant
-      nothing but kindness to her. To be sure, at first it grated upon her
-      sensitiveness to be referred to in that kindly pitying way, but she did
-      not resent it&mdash;indeed, she usually thought of herself as &ldquo;poor
-      Fanny.&rdquo; In a household where proficiency in music was the standard from
-      which every member was judged, it was inevitable that her incompetence
-      should be impressed upon her; but no one was hard upon her&mdash;the
-      kindly &ldquo;poor Fanny&rdquo; of her father represented the attitude of the
-      household toward her, even when she had confided to some of the members
-      the fact that she was writing a novel. They had been startled; but, then,
-      a novel was not a musical composition, and such an achievement could not
-      be received with the warmth that Esther's playing received. It was really
-      not until the printed sheets of the book lay before Susy that she felt
-      that Fanny had, in one leap, brought herself well-nigh to the level of
-      Esther; and by the time Susy had read the story to the end she had made up
-      her mind that if it might be possible to compare the interest of a
-      literary work with that of the playing of a piece of music, Fanny's work
-      could claim precedence over the best that Esther had done&mdash;she had
-      confessed as much to Fanny in secret, and Fanny had called her a foolish
-      child.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Fanny had seated herself in the parlour opening off the little hall, on
-      the departure of her father, and her memory took her back to the days she
-      had passed in the house at Poland Street, when she had written her story
-      of Caroline Evelyn, and had been induced by her stepmother to burn it,
-      with sundry dramas and literary moralizings after the manner of the <i>Tatler</i>&mdash;all
-      the work of her early youth. She recalled her resolution never again to
-      engage in any such unprofitable practices as were represented by the smoke
-      which was ascending from the funeral pyre of her &ldquo;Caroline Evelyn&rdquo; and the
-      rest.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      How long had she kept to her resolution? She could not remember. She could
-      not recall having any sense of guilt when she had begun her &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo;&mdash;it
-      seemed to have sprung from the ashes of &ldquo;Caroline Evelyn&rdquo;&mdash;nor could
-      she recollect what had been on her mind when she was spending those long
-      chilly hours of her restricted leisure toiling over the book. All that she
-      could remember now was her feeling that it had to be written&mdash;that it
-      seemed as if someone in authority had laid on her the injunction to write
-      it, and she had no choice but to obey.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Well, she had obeyed&mdash;the book had been written and printed and she
-      meant to send the corrected sheets back to Mr. Lowndes in the course of
-      the day. Her father's consent to its publication had been obtained and it
-      would be advertised for sale within some months, and then&mdash;&mdash;
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Her imagination was not equal to the pursuit of the question of its
-      future. Sometimes she felt that she never wished to hear of the book
-      again. She could almost hope that sending the sheets back to Mr. Lowndes
-      would be the same as dropping them, with a heavy stone in the parcel, into
-      the deep sea.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But that was when the trouble of getting her father's permission to
-      publish it was looming before her. Now that this cloud had been dispelled
-      she felt less gloomy. She had a roseate dream of hearing people talk about
-      the book and even wishing to know the name of the author. She had a dream
-      of Fame herself carrying her away to sublime heights&mdash;to such heights
-      as she had been borne by the singing of &ldquo;Waft her, Angels.&rdquo; Her dream was
-      of sitting on these heights of Fame by the side of the singer&mdash;on the
-      same level&mdash;not inferior in the eyes of the world&mdash;not as the
-      beggar maid uplifted in her rags to the side of the King.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      That had been her dream when listening to the singing, and it returned to
-      her now, as she sat alone in the little parlour, having just taken the
-      last step that was necessary before giving to the world the book which was
-      to do so much for her. Her visions of success showed her no more
-      entrancing a prospect than that of being by his side with her fame as a
-      dowry worthy of his acceptance at her hands; so that people might not say
-      that he had chosen unworthily&mdash;he, who had all the world to choose
-      from.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And quite naturally there came to her in due sequence the marvellous
-      thought that he had already chosen her out of all the world&mdash;he had
-      chosen her, believing her to be the dowerless daughter of a music-teacher&mdash;the
-      one uninteresting member of a popular family!
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      This was the most delightful thought of the whole train that came to her.
-      It was worth cherishing above all the rest&mdash;close to her heart&mdash;close
-      to her heart. She hugged that thought so close to her that it became warm
-      with the warmth of her heart. Even though her book should never be heard
-      of again, even though the world might treat it with contempt, she would
-      still be consoled by the reflection that he had chosen her.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why on earth should you be sitting here in the cold, Fanny?&rdquo; came the
-      voice from the opened door&mdash;the voice of firm domestic virtue.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Cold? cold? Surely 'Tis not cold, mamma,&rdquo; she said.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Not so very cold; but when there is a fire in the work-room it should not
-      be wasted,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;But to say the truth you do not look as if
-      you were cold; your face is quite flushed, child. I hope you do not feel
-      that you are on the brink of a sickness, my dear.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Dear mamma, I never felt stronger in my life,&rdquo; cried Fanny with a laugh.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I am glad to hear that. I was saying to Lottie just now that for some
-      days past you have had alternately a worried look and the look of one
-      whose brain is over-excited. Is anything the matter, my child?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Nothing&mdash;nothing&mdash;indeed nothing! I never felt more at ease in
-      all my life.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, well, a little exercise will do you no harm, I am sure; so put on
-      your hat and accompany me to the fishmonger's. He has not been treating us
-      at all fairly of late. It is not that I mind the remark made quite
-      respectfully by James at dinner yesterday&mdash;it would be ridiculous to
-      expect to find fish as fresh in the centre of London as he and his
-      shipmates were accustomed to in the middle of the Pacific Ocean; but it
-      would not be unreasonable for us to look for turbot with less of a taint
-      than that we had yesterday. You will hear the man excuse himself by
-      asserting that I chose the fish at his stall; but my answer to that&mdash;well,
-      come with me and you shall hear what is my answer.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Fanny went with her and heard.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XVII
-    </h2>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE faithful Cousin
-      Edward had carried the sheets of &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; to Mr. Lowndes's shop, with her
-      list of errata, sisters Lottie and Susy giving him ample instructions as
-      to the disguise he should assume in discharging that duty; it would be
-      terrible, they thought, if the secret which they had so carefully guarded
-      for so long should be revealed just when it was most important that it
-      should be kept. Their imagination was keen enough to suggest to them the
-      possibility of good Mr. Lowdnes setting a watch upon the people entering
-      his shop, and giving instructions that the bearer of the parcel of
-      &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; should be detained and brought into his presence to be
-      questioned.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      They advised that Edward should muffle up his face well before going into
-      the shop, and then lay down his parcel and fly like the wind&mdash;that
-      would be the best way of defeating the curiosity of the bookseller.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But Edward was of the opinion that such a course of action might possibly
-      only stimulate the man's curiosity as well as that of the people in the
-      street, and the cry of &ldquo;Stop thief!&rdquo; might bring his frantic flight to a
-      standstill. He thought that the most artful course to adopt would be to
-      hang around the shop until he found that several customers were within;
-      then he would enter quite casually and wait until Mr. Lowndes had served
-      one customer and was about to attend to another. If the parcel were thrust
-      into his hands during this interval, he, Edward, would have a good chance
-      of getting safely away before Mr. Lowndes should have time to examine its
-      contents.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      They were rather struck with his idea, and he got permission to put it
-      into practice; but in any case he must take the greatest care of the
-      parcel; valuable parcels were snatched out of people's hands every day.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      He smiled.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      In another hour he was back at the house in St. Martin's Street to report
-      to them the safe delivery of the precious parcel. After all, he had had
-      nothing more exciting to do than to place it on a counter&mdash;the
-      elderly gentleman with a pen behind his ear had not even taken the trouble
-      to rise from his stool to receive it.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Parcel for Mr. Lowndes? All right. Leave it there&rdquo;&mdash;those were the
-      exact words with which the parcel was received, Edward reported&mdash;the
-      clerk was buried in his ledger before he had left the shop.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The girls were not a little disappointed at this very tame conclusion of
-      what they expected would have been an exciting episode; and to say the
-      truth, their chagrin was shared by Cousin Edward.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      He had looked for his resources of artfulness to be drawn on in the
-      transaction&mdash;perhaps even his physical qualifications for the defence
-      of the sacred secret as well. He felt as a strong man might feel on going
-      forth to meet a giant, to find himself confronted by a dwarf. The mission
-      was unworthy of his powers. Fanny's thanks heartily given to him, with the
-      repeated assurance that, but for him, the affair could never have been
-      carried out, scarcely compensated him for the tameness of the affair.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      For the next month or two it was a busy household in St. Martin's Street.
-      Lieutenant Burney was joining his ship for another long voyage, and he had
-      to be provided with a fresh outfit. The stitching that went on in the
-      work-room surpassed even that maintained during the months preceding
-      Esther's marriage; but the labour was lightened upon more than one
-      occasion by the appearance of Mr. Garrick. Mr. Garrick had the freedom of
-      the house in St. Martin's Street, as he had had that of the Poland Street
-      domicile, where he had so often spent hours amusing the children with his
-      inimitable drolleries.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But Mrs. Burney thought he went a little too far in taking off their
-      friends, and even their own father, though his malicious touches were as
-      light as the pinches of Puck. He had been paying a visit to Mr. and Mrs.
-      Kendal, and he convulsed even Mrs. Burney by his acting of the scene of
-      his reception by them, the lady much more coy than she had ever been at
-      the Wells, and the gentleman overflowing in his attentions to her; but
-      both of them esteeming him as their benefactor.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And they were so well satisfied with the honourable estate to which he had
-      called them, that they appeared to be spending all their time trying to
-      bring about matches among their acquaintance. No matter how unsuitable
-      some of the projected unions seemed, no matter how unlikely some of the
-      people were to do credit to their discrimination, they seemed determined
-      that none should escape &ldquo;the blissful bondage&rdquo;&mdash;that was Mr. Kendal's
-      neat phrase. Mr. Garrick repeated it with a smile that made his audience
-      fancy that Mr. Kendal was before them.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;'The blissful bondage&mdash;that's what I term it, sir,'&rdquo; said Mr.
-      Kendal, through Mr. Garrick. &ldquo;'But the worst of the matter is, Mr.
-      Garrick, that we have nearly exhausted our own circle of friends'&mdash;'I
-      can easily believe that, sir,' interposed Mr. Garrick&mdash;' and so we
-      feel it our duty to fall back upon you.' 'Lud, sir,' cried Mr. Garrick,
-      jumping a step or two back as if to avoid a heavy impact&mdash;'Lud, sir!
-      a little man like me! I should be crushed as flat as a black beetle.'
-      'Nay, sir, I mean that we are compelled to ask you for a list of a few of
-      your friends who, you think, should be brought together&mdash;half a dozen
-      of each sex would be sufficient to begin with.'&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Of course I demurred,&rdquo; said Garrick, telling his story, &ldquo;but before 'the
-      blissful bondage' had been repeated more than a score of times I began to
-      think of all against whom I bore a grudge&mdash;here was clearly the means
-      of getting level with them; the only trouble with me was that I found
-      myself confounding the people who bore me a grudge with those against whom
-      I bore a grudge&mdash;the former are plentiful, the latter very meagre in
-      number. With the exception of a few very dear animosities which I was
-      hoarding up to make old age endurable, I have killed off all my enemies,
-      and was forced, like Mr. Kendal, to fall back on my friends; but even
-      among these I could find few that I could honestly say were deserving of
-      such a fate as I was asked to nominate them for. I ventured, however, to
-      mention the name of Lieutenant Burney, of His Majesty's Fleet, coupling it
-      with&mdash;I could not at first think of an appropriate partner for James,
-      but at last I hit upon exactly the right lady.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What! a splice before I set sail next week?&rdquo; cried Jim. &ldquo;That's good
-      news, sir. And the lady's name, if you please, and her address. Give me my
-      hat, Susy; there is no time to be lost. A splice in a trice. Come, Mr.
-      Garrick, her name? Cannot you see that I am hanging in stays until you
-      tell me who she is?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;She is a very pleasant lady, sir. I can assure you of that,&rdquo; said
-      Garrick. &ldquo;Not too tall even with her hair built <i>à la mode</i>; a
-      pleasant smile, and a happy way of conversing. In short, Lieutenant
-      Burney, I can strongly recommend the lady, for I have known her for the
-      past twenty years and more, and from the first she was a staid, sensible
-      person&mdash;the very partner for a sailor, sir, being so contrary to him
-      in every point.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Hark'ee, Mr. Garrick; though I don't quite see myself in tow of such a
-      state barge, I'll trouble you to relieve my suspense by telling me her
-      name.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I have more than once thought when I was young that she would make me an
-      excellent wife,&rdquo; said Garrick; &ldquo;but I soon perceived that I was not good
-      enough for her. She has always been an exemplary sister, and I saw that,
-      try as I might, I could never become her equal in that respect; and for
-      married happiness, my boy, there is nothing like&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Her name&mdash;her name?&rdquo; shrieked the girls.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The actor looked at them with pained surprise on every feature.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Her name?&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Surely I have described her very badly if you have
-      not recognized the portrait. But, for that matter, I have often felt how
-      inadequate are words to describe character combined with grace&mdash;a
-      nature inclined to seriousness in conjunction with a desire to attract&mdash;loftiness
-      of purpose linked with a certain daintiness&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      He made a few gestures with his hands, keeping his elbows close to his
-      side, and then imitated the spreading of a capacious skirt preparatory to
-      sinking in a curtsey, and in a moment there was a cry from every part of
-      the room of &ldquo;Miss Reynolds&mdash;Miss Reynolds!&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And who has a word to say against Miss Reynolds?&rdquo; cried the actor.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No one&mdash;no one,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;Character combined with grace&mdash;Miss
-      Reynolds linked with Lieutenant Burney.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;She would make a fine sheet anchor for an Admiral of the Blue,&rdquo; laughed
-      Jim. &ldquo;And with your permission, sir, I will postpone my offer until I have
-      attained that rank.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I have advised Mr. Kendal to hurry things on,&rdquo; said Garrick gravely. &ldquo;For
-      if you have time to spare before making up your mind, the lady cannot
-      reasonably be thought equally fortunate. 'Lieutenant Burney, your attitude
-      is not complimentary to the blissful bondage'&rdquo;&mdash;once more it was Mr.
-      Kendal who was in the room.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Call the roll,&rdquo; said Jim. &ldquo;Who comes next on your list, Mr. Garrick?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, I was thinking of Dr. Johnson with Mrs. Abington,&rdquo; said Garrick;
-      &ldquo;but perhaps you may quibble even at that.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      The room rang with laughter, for everyone had seen the beautiful actress
-      whose lead in dress was followed by all the ladies in the fashionable
-      world who could afford to do so, and a greater number who could not; and
-      the worsted hose and scorched wig, two sizes too small, of Dr. Johnson had
-      been gazed at with awe by the Burney family when he visited the house in
-      St. Martin's Street.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Let the banns be published without delay,&rdquo; cried Jim. &ldquo;Next pair,
-      please.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, I was thinking of Signor Rauzzini and Mrs. Montagu,&rdquo; said Garrick,
-      &ldquo;but perhaps that would not be approved of by you any more than the
-      others.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Nay, Mr. Garrick, I will not have our friends made any longer the subject
-      of your fooling,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Garrick and Jim had the laugh between them, but it seemed that they alone
-      saw the jest of coupling the lively Roman with the mature leader of the
-      bluestockings: the girls bent silently over their work.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Madam,&rdquo; said Garrick apologetically, &ldquo;I ask your pardon for my
-      imprudence. May I ask which name I am to withdraw? Was my offence the
-      introduction of the lady's name or the gentleman's? Oh, I can guess. Those
-      rosy-tinted faces before me&mdash;I vow that you will find yourself going
-      to sea with a chestful of pink shirts, Lieutenant&mdash;those sweet
-      blushing faces reveal the secret more eloquently than any words could do.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Undoubtedly the three girls were blushing very prettily; but at the
-      mention of the word &ldquo;secret&rdquo; two of them gave a little start, but without
-      looking up.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The secret&mdash;oh, I have been feeling for some time that I was well to
-      the leeward of a secret,&rdquo; cried Jim, &ldquo;and I'll not start tack or sheet
-      until I learn what it is.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What, sir; you a sailor and not able to penetrate the secret of a pretty
-      girl's blushes!&rdquo; cried Garrick.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The brother looked at each of his sisters in turn. They continued
-      stitching away demurely at his shirts.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Helm's a-lee,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Ready about, and off we go on another tack, for
-      hang me if I see anything of guilt on their faces, bless 'em! Come, Mr.
-      Garrick, you shall interpret them for me. Let me into the secret which you
-      say you have read as if it was a book.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Susy gave a sharp cry.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The needle!&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;That is the third time it has pricked me since
-      morning.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Pay no attention to her, sir,&rdquo; cried Garrick. &ldquo;It was a feint on her part
-      to put us off the scent of the secret.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;In heaven's name, then, let us have it,&rdquo; cried Jim.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;If you will have it, here it is,&rdquo; said Garrick. &ldquo;Your three sisters, Mr.
-      Burney, are contemplating applying to Mrs. Montagu to be admitted to the
-      freedom and the livery of the Society of Bluestockings. That is why they
-      thought it akin to sacrilege for me to introduce the lady's name into a
-      jest. Their blush was but a reflex of their guilty intention.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Indeed, Mr. Garrick, you go too far sometimes,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;Mrs.
-      Montagu is a worthy lady, and our girls respect her too highly to fancy
-      that they have any qualification to be received into her literary set.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Faith, Madam, I know my duty too well, I hope, to accuse any of the Miss
-      Burneys of possessing literary qualities,&rdquo; said Garrick. &ldquo;But what I do
-      say is that if such qualities as they possess were to be introduced into
-      Mrs. Montagu's set, it would quickly become the most popular drawing-room
-      in town. The idea of thinking that any young woman would go to the trouble
-      of writing a book when she can reach the heart of mankind so much more
-      easily by blushing over the breast of a shirt! Continue stitching and
-      doing your own blushing, dear children, and you will never give anyone
-      cause to blush for you.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      He bowed elaborately to each of them in turn and afterward to Mrs. Burney,
-      and made a most effective exit. He always knew when he should go, and
-      never failed to leave a few fragrant phrases behind him, as though he had
-      dropped a bunch of roses for the girls to cherish.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Where should we be without Mr. Garrick?&rdquo; said James, when he had seen the
-      actor to the door and returned to the work-room.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;If only he would not go too far in his jesting,&rdquo; remarked Mrs. Burney,
-      shaking her head. &ldquo;Mr. Garrick sometimes forgets himself.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That is how it comes that he is the greatest actor in the world,&rdquo; said
-      James. &ldquo;It is only when a man has learned to forget himself completely
-      that he causes everyone else to remember him. Now there's the text for a
-      homily that you can write to your Daddy Crisp, Fanny.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I'll note it, Jim, and if Mr. Crisp breaks off correspondence with me you
-      shall bear the blame,&rdquo; said Fanny.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Mercy on us!&rdquo; whispered Susy when she was alone with her sister a little
-      later. &ldquo;I never got such a fright as when Mr. Garrick pretended to read
-      your secret. Thank goodness! he failed to get the least inkling of it.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Thank goodness, indeed!&rdquo; whispered Fanny. But she was thinking of quite a
-      different secret when she spoke.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XVIII
-    </h2>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>E was beside her
-      before she was aware of it, in the great music-room at Lady Hales's house.
-      She had not seen him approach her&mdash;she could not have done so without
-      turning round, for he had approached her from behind, and slipped into the
-      chair that Esther had vacated in order to play to the company. Esther's
-      husband, who had been in the seat beyond her, had been led away some time
-      earlier by Mr. Linley's clever son in order that he might give an opinion
-      respecting one of the songs in a piece named <i>The Duenna</i>, which was
-      about to be produced at Drury Lane.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      He was beside her and whispering in her ear, though she had not even known
-      that he was to be present.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Of course he went through the pantomimic form of inquiring how it was that
-      she was alone&mdash;this was, she knew, for the benefit of anyone who
-      might be watching them and suspect an assignation. The idea of anyone
-      seriously fancying that Dr. Burney's daughter would have an assignation
-      with Signor Rauzzini in such a place and in the midst of such a company!
-      But Signor Rauzzini came from a land of intrigue, and his experience of
-      England led him to believe that he had come to another; and so he made
-      those gestures of inquiry, and she gave him a few words of explanation, so
-      that no one might suspect! But, for that matter, their chairs were in the
-      least conspicuous place in the room, and the shadow of the heavy hangings
-      of a window fell half across them both.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And we have not met for months,&rdquo; said he in French.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Nay, have you forgotten our evening at the Pantheon?&rdquo; she asked.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Forgotten it? But that is months ago&mdash;ages. And it was all
-      unfinished&mdash;broken off when at its best&mdash;mutilated. That hour we
-      had! Oh, was it a melody suddenly interrupted when it was approaching its
-      best? Was it a poem snatched away by some ruthless hand just when we had
-      begun a deathless line?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What I remember best is your singing of 'Waft her.' I am not quite sure
-      that I have yet returned to the earth from those regions whither I felt
-      myself wafted. Are you conscious of having any part in <i>Dido</i> into
-      which you can throw yourself with the same spirit?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;<i>Dido!</i> pah! <i>Dido</i> is a paltry playhouse&mdash;Maestro
-      Handel's work is a Sistine Chapel&mdash;ah, more&mdash;more&mdash;a noble
-      cathedral. When other composers built their garden houses in imitation of
-      Greek temples, he spent all his time raising cathedrals. His genius is his
-      own&mdash;mighty&mdash;overpowering! Every time I approach the great <i>maestro</i>
-      I feel that I should put off my shoes from my feet. It is holy ground&mdash;it
-      is&mdash;ah, mademoiselle, it was you who led me to chatter of myself and
-      my music when we were last together, and I had no wish to do so; I meant
-      to talk of yourself alone, but we had parted before I had the chance
-      again. I have been wondering ever since if such a chance would return&mdash;if
-      I had not thrown it away; and now you have lured me once more toward the
-      golden net of music; but I have seen it spread: I will not step into it. I
-      want to talk to you of love&mdash;love and you&mdash;and&mdash;me.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      He had restrained his voice so that it was no more than a whisper, and he
-      had chastened his gestures until he seemed rigid. Fanny knew that even if
-      their chairs had not been far away from the next that were occupied, his
-      words could reach no ears but her own; but the effort that he was making
-      to restrain his gestures&mdash;oh, was it not more significant to any
-      observant eye than his most florid action would have been? With bent head
-      she was conscious of the quivering of the muscles of his clenched hands&mdash;of
-      the tremulous earnestness of his expressive face. Surely everyone who so
-      much as glanced at him would know what was the subject of his discourse&mdash;and
-      hers&mdash;hers&mdash;but what should hers be? What answer was she to make
-      to such a man whispering such a word as love?
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I am afraid,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;You make me afraid. Is this the place? Is this
-      the time? Am I the one?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Every place is the place&mdash;every time is the time&mdash;and you&mdash;you
-      are the only one,&rdquo; said he, becoming more fervent every moment. &ldquo;If you
-      and I were alone&mdash;but we are alone&mdash;our love isolates us&mdash;we
-      are alone in the splendid isolation of our love. What are these people who
-      are about us? They are nothing to us&mdash;less than nothing, What are the
-      people in a church to the devout one who enters and keeps his eyes fixed
-      upon the lovely face of the saint to whom he prays. The saint and he are
-      in communion together, and their communion isolates them though the church
-      is crowded? I keep my eyes of devotion upon your face, my beautiful saint,
-      and I am rapt with the glory of this hour&mdash;we are carried away on the
-      wings of our love until the world is too far beneath us to be seen&mdash;only
-      the heaven is revealed to us&mdash;to me&mdash;I look into your face and I
-      have a glimpse of heaven itself! Ah, gentle saint, you will not deny me a
-      response&mdash;one word&mdash;only lift up your eyes&mdash;let our eyes
-      meet and it will be as if our lips had met. I am but a mortal, but I feel,
-      gazing into the face of my saint, as if I were immortal&mdash;immortal and
-      crossing the threshold of the heaven that is hers&mdash;I feel that we are
-      equal&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      She drew in her breath&mdash;the sound was something like a gasp&mdash;the
-      gasp of one who has been swept away into the midst of a swirling sea and
-      made breathless. She had been swept away on the amazing flood of his
-      words; it was not until he had said that word &ldquo;equal&rdquo; that she felt
-      herself swirled into the air once more, so to speak, and gave that gasp
-      for breath: he, too, was breathless after his long and fervid outburst,
-      repressed as to tone, but sounding therefore all the more passionate. Her
-      gasp sounded like a sigh; his like a sob.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Not yet&mdash;not yet,&rdquo; she said in a whisper&mdash;disjointed and
-      staccato. &ldquo;I cannot listen to you yet. I dare not&mdash;I have my pride.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Pride? What is pride? How have I wounded your pride?&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Ah, my
-      God! you cannot think that I would propose anything that is not
-      honourable? You do not look on me as such a wretch? Ah, you cannot.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, no, no,&rdquo; she said quickly. &ldquo;I would trust you. I have looked into
-      your face. I have heard you sing.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You place your faith in me? But you cannot do that unless you love me.
-      And if you love me&mdash;have I been too headlong? Have I startled you?
-      But surely you must have seen that on the very first day we met, before I
-      had been an hour in your presence, my life was yours. I tell you that I
-      knew it&mdash;not an hour&mdash;one glance was enough to tell me that I
-      was all yours, and that for me no other one lived or would ever live in
-      the world. What have you to say? Do not you believe me? What did you mean
-      by that word 'pride'? It does not seem to me that it had any connection
-      with you or me.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Do not ask me to explain anything just now,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;You would not
-      like to be asked to explain how you came to&mdash;to&mdash;think of me&mdash;to
-      feel in regard to me as you have said you do&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why should I shrink from it?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;But no one who has seen you
-      would put such a question to me. I loved you because you were&mdash;<i>you</i>.
-      Is not that enough? It would be sufficient for anyone who knew you. I saw
-      you sitting there&mdash;so sweetly timid&mdash;a little flower that is so
-      startled to find itself awakened into life in the spring, that it would
-      fain ask the earth to hide it again. I thought of you as that modest
-      little flower&mdash;a violet trying to obscure its own charm by the leaves
-      that surround it; but all in vain&mdash;in vain, for its presence has
-      given a subtle perfume to the air, and all who breathe of its delicate
-      sweetness take the spirit of the spring into their souls and know that a
-      violet is there, though hidden from their view. That is how I saw you. I
-      have always loved the violet, and felt that shyness and sweetness were
-      ever one; and am I to be reproached if I have a longing to pluck my violet
-      and have her ever with me?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;This is madness&mdash;the poetry of madness,&rdquo; she cried, and there was
-      really a piteous note in her voice. &ldquo;But if I did not believe that you
-      feel every word that you have spoken, I would let you continue, and drink
-      in the sweetness of every word that falls from your lips. It is because I
-      know that you are speaking from your heart and because I also know my own
-      unworthiness that I pray of you to say no more&mdash;yet.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why should I not tell you the truth, if you confess that you believe I am
-      speaking sincerely?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Sincerely, but in a dream.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Is all love a dream, then?&mdash;is that what is in your thought?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I do not want it to be a dream. I wish the love to continue with your
-      eyes open, and therefore I say&mdash;not yet.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You wish my love to continue? Oh, never doubt that your wish shall be
-      granted. But why that 'not yet '? I am weary of this mystery.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      She was perplexed. Why should she hold out any longer against this
-      impetuous Prince of the land of King Cophetua? Why should she not be as
-      other girls who allow themselves to be lifted out of insignificance by the
-      man who loves them. Why should that gift of being able to see more closely
-      into the truth of things that most others accept without a question, be
-      laid upon her as a burden?
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      She had a strong impulse to let her resolution go down the wind, and to
-      put her hand in his, no matter who might be looking on, and say the word
-      to him that would give him happiness. Who was she to suggest that his
-      happiness would not endure&mdash;that her happiness would not endure?
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      She was perplexed. She had more than once been called prim; but that only
-      meant that it was her nature to weigh everything in a mental balance, as
-      it were, and her imagination was equal (she thought) to the task of
-      assigning their relative value to the many constituents of human
-      happiness. If she had been told that this meant that she had not yet been
-      in love, and that she was not now in love, she would not have felt uneasy
-      in her mind. She did not mistrust the feeling she had for the man who was
-      beside her. Surely this was the very spirit of truth in loving, to be
-      ready to sacrifice everything, so that unhappiness should not overtake
-      him; and she had long ago felt that unhappiness only could result from his
-      linking his life with one who was rather less than a mere nobody. The
-      thought never once left her mind of what would be said when it was known
-      that she had married him. A dunce's triumph, the incident would be styled
-      by the wits, and (assuming that the wits were masculine) how would it be
-      styled by the opposite sex? She could see uplifted hands&mdash;incredulous
-      eyebrows raised, while they discussed it, and she knew that the conclusion
-      that everyone would come to was that to be the most divine singer in the
-      world did not save a man from being the greatest fool in the world.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Was her love the less true because her intelligence insisted on her
-      perceiving that such a man as Signor Rauzzini would not be happy if
-      married to a nonentity like herself? &ldquo;Surely not,&rdquo; she would have cried.
-      &ldquo;Surely it is only the truest of all loves that would be ready to
-      relinquish its object rather than bring unhappiness upon him! Is
-      intelligence never to be found in association with true love? Must true
-      love and folly ever be regarded as allies?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Her intellect was quick in apprehending the strength of the position taken
-      up by two combatants in an argument; but the juxtaposition of the Prim and
-      the Passionate was too much for her. She was all intellect; he was all
-      passion. Her mental outlook on the situation was acute; but his was
-      non-existent. His passion blinded him; her intellect had a thousand eyes.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And there he was by her side; she could almost hear the strong beating of
-      his heart in the pause that followed his question.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What is this mystery?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      It was her feeling of this tumultuous beating of his heart that all but
-      made her lose her intellectual foothold. His heart beating close to hers
-      swayed her as the moon sways the tides, until for some moments she could
-      not have told whether it was her heart or his that was beating so wildly&mdash;only
-      for some moments, however; only long enough for that madness to suggest
-      itself to her&mdash;to let her resolution fly to the winds&mdash;what did
-      anything matter so long as she could lay her hand in his, and feel his
-      fingers warm over hers? It was her first acquaintance with the tyranny of
-      a heart aflame, and for a moment she bent her head before it. He thought
-      that he had got the better of her scruples, whatever they were, by the way
-      her voice broke as she said:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Madness&mdash;it would be madness!&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      He was not acute enough to perceive that she was talking to herself&mdash;trying
-      to bring her reason to help her to hold out against the throbbing of her
-      heart&mdash;<i>his</i> heart.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It would indeed be madness for us to turn our backs upon happiness when
-      it is within our reach,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;That is what you would say, sweet
-      saint?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      But she had now recovered herself.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Indeed it is because I have no thought except for your happiness that I
-      entreat of you to listen to me,&rdquo; said Fanny.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I will listen to you if you tell me in one word that you love me,&rdquo; said
-      he.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      There was no pause before she turned her eyes upon him saying:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You know it. You have never doubted it. It is because I love you so truly
-      I wish to save you from unhappiness. I want to hold your love for ever and
-      ever.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;My sweet saint! You have heard my prayers. You are to make me happy.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;All that I can promise as yet is to save you from supreme unhappiness. I
-      am strong enough to do so, I think.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You can save me from every unhappiness if you will come to me&mdash;and
-      you are coming, I know.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I hope that if you ask me three months hence I shall be able to say
-      'yes'; but now&mdash;at this moment&mdash;I dare not. It is not so long to
-      ask you to wait, seeing that I have let you have a glimpse of my heart,
-      and told you that as you feel for me, so I feel for you.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Three months is an eternity! Why should it be in three months? Why not
-      now?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      She shook her head.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I cannot tell you. It is my little secret,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Ah, is it not
-      enough that I have told you I love you? I shall never cease to love you.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, this accursed place! These accursed people!&rdquo; he murmured. &ldquo;Why are we
-      fated to meet only surrounded by these wretches? Why cannot we meet where
-      I can have you in <i>my</i> arms, and kiss your lips that were made for
-      kissing?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      There was something terrifying to her in that low whisper of his. He had
-      put his head down to her until his lips were close to her ear. She felt
-      the warmth of his face; it made her own burn. But she could not move her
-      face away to the extent of an inch. Her feminine instinct of flight was
-      succeeded by the equally feminine instinct of surrender. If it had been
-      his intention&mdash;and it certainly seemed that it was&mdash;to kiss her
-      in the presence of all the company, she would still have been incapable of
-      avoiding such a caress.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      He swore again in her ear, and Fanny, for all her primness, felt a regret
-      deep down in her heart that her training would not allow of her expressing
-      herself through the same medium.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But he did not come any nearer to her than that. He changed his phrases of
-      abuse of their entourage to words of delight at her presence so close to
-      him&mdash;alternately passionate and tender. His voice became a song in
-      her ears, containing all such variations. His vocalism was equal to the
-      demand put upon it. It was his <i>métier</i> to interpret such emotions,
-      and now he did justice to his training, even if he fell short&mdash;and he
-      was conscious of doing so&mdash;of dealing adequately with his own
-      feelings. He called her once again his sweet saint who had heard his
-      prayer; his cherished flower, whose fragrance was more grateful to him
-      than all the incense burned in all the temples of the world was to the
-      Powers above.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It was, he repeated, her violet modesty that had first made him adore her.
-      Her humility brought before his eyes the picture painted by Guido Reni&mdash;the
-      Madonna saying: <i>Ecce ancilla Domini</i>.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Ah, her humility was divine. And she was so like his mother&mdash;his dear
-      mother who had died when he was a boy and who had taught him to sing. Ah,
-      she was herself now singing in Paradise, and she would look down and
-      approve his choice. She, too, had been as meek as a flower, and had never
-      been so happy as when they had been together at a little farm in Tuscany
-      with him by her side among the olives. Oh, she would approve his choice.
-      And quite simply he addressed his dead mother, as though she were beside
-      him, asking her if she could desire to have a daughter sweeter or more
-      gentle. He had lapsed into his native Italian in this; but Fanny could
-      follow his slow, devout words, and her eyes were full of tears, her heart
-      of love.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      She now perceived how simple and gentle a nature was that of the young
-      Roman. He remained unspoilt by the adulation which he had received both in
-      his own country and in England. Seeing him thus revealing a simplicity
-      which she had not associated with him before, she was led to ask herself
-      if there was, after all, so great a difference between them as she had
-      believed to exist. She had forgotten all about his singing, and he was now
-      in her eyes nothing more than a man&mdash;the man who loved her. Ah, that
-      was enough. He loved her, and therefore she was bound to save him from the
-      mortification of hearing the whispers of the people around them asking how
-      he could ever have been stupid enough to marry a girl like herself, who
-      was a nobody and without a fortune, when he might have chosen any girl in
-      the world.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Her resolution came back to her with greater force than ever. Since he had
-      made his nature plain to her, it would, she felt, be taking advantage of
-      his simplicity to engage herself to him just as she was. She knew more of
-      the world than he did. She knew how the world talked, and how it would
-      talk regarding herself as well as regarding him in such a matter. He was
-      simple and generous; it was necessary for her to take thought for both of
-      them.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Have you heard me?&rdquo; he asked of her in a whisper.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The tears are still in my eyes,&rdquo; she replied. &ldquo;Oh, my dear friend, cannot
-      you see how bitter it is for me to be compelled to ask you to wait for
-      these months that I spoke of? Cannot you see that it is a matter of
-      conscience and honour? Ah, I should never forgive myself if I were to do
-      other than I have done! If you&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Dear one,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;I ask for nothing more than to hear you tell me that
-      you love me. Who am I, that I should demand your secret? So long as you do
-      not conceal your love from me, I do not mind if you have a score of
-      secrets locked away in your white bosom. Tell me again that you love me
-      and all must be well.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      She looked at him, but he knew that she could not see a feature of his
-      face by reason of the tears that were still in her eyes.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XIX
-    </h2>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T was on one of
-      the last mornings in January that Mrs. Burney was reading out of the
-      newly-arrived <i>London Chronicle</i> such paragraphs as she thought would
-      appeal to the varied interests of the breakfast-table. There were a few
-      announcements of marriages about to take place between people whose names
-      they knew, the amount of the bride's dowry being stated in each in plain
-      figures, though Mrs. Burney took it upon her to affirm in one or two cases
-      that the sum was exaggerated, or to suggest that if the father of the
-      bride were just enough to pay his debts first, the portion of his daughter
-      would be considerably reduced. In the case of one of the gentlemen, who
-      was marrying thirty thousand pounds, she ventured to express the hope that
-      he would now pay at least some of his creditors.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      These were, of course, the most interesting items of news, though their
-      attractiveness was not greatly superior to that of the gossip respecting
-      Mr. F&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;, who had been noticed in high dudgeon because
-      of Lady P&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;'s dancing three times with Sir Julian Y&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;;
-      or that which suggested that a reconcilement must have taken place between
-      the beautiful Mrs. G&mdash;&mdash;&mdash; and her husband, for they had
-      been seen taking the air together in the Park.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It was also pleasant to learn that His Majesty had given great
-      encouragement to Mrs. Delany in the production of her ingenious mosaic
-      flowers, in which she was so skilled as to excite the wonder of several
-      criticks in the Royal circle; and also that His Royal Highness the Prince
-      of Wales had been graciously pleased to say in publick that he had always
-      admired the Perdita of the beautiful Mrs. Robinson, though he considered
-      Mrs. Abington, on the whole, the most tasteful dresser in the Drury Lane
-      company.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It was only when Mrs. Burney had folded the newspaper and was about to put
-      it away, that a few lines of an advertisement caught her eye&mdash;she
-      commented before she read, as though she had been a fully qualified
-      critic:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;More novels! More stuff for the circulating libraries! Enough to make
-      poor Mr. Richardson feel uncomfortable in his grave! Could he but have
-      known that he was turning all England into novel readers he would never
-      have put pen to paper. Here is another imitator in the field. 'Evelina;
-      or, a Young Lady's Entrance into the World,' published to-day by Mr.
-      Lowndes&mdash;three volumes, seven and sixpence sewed, nine shillings in
-      covers. 'Evelina,' a distant cousin to 'Clarissa' and 'Pamela' I doubt
-      not. I hope your father will not bring anyone here to dinner to-day.
-      Hashed mutton is a wholesome dish, to be sure, but some visitors are
-      fastidious. He may bring as many as he pleases to-morrow, for Mr.
-      Greville's gift of pheasants will be on the table. Why are you staring so
-      at your sister, Lottie?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Lottie was becoming a hardened dissembler: she scarcely started when asked
-      to interpret certain furtive glances she cast at Fanny.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I was wondering if Fanny would make a face: she never was fond of hashed
-      mutton,&rdquo; said Lottie glibly. &ldquo;If she had gone to school in France she
-      would soon have got a liking for it, cooked as it is there.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I am not partial to French kickshaws,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;There's nothing
-      like good English fare. To my thinking, the principle of making food tasty
-      when in ordinary circumstances it should not be so, is a bad one. Hash of
-      mutton is wholesome food, and it should be eaten as such without further
-      question. If Providence had meant it to be tasty as well, He would have
-      made His intentions as plain as in the case of roast pheasant.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Lottie will tell you that I made no face at the mention of hash of
-      mutton,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;What does it signify whether one sits down to a
-      simple platter of mutton hash or a great dinner such as father gets at Mr.
-      Thrale's? A pair of geese, a leg of mutton, a tongue, a rib of roast beef
-      and a brace of pheasants, with two or three dishes of fish, and for Dr.
-      Johnson a veal pie or a piece of pork&mdash;those were on the table at one
-      time. What is the benefit of such abundance, when all that one can eat is
-      a single slice of beef?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      She spoke rapidly, for she, too, had been a great dissembler. She meant to
-      take away her stepmother's attention from those questionable glances which
-      she had exchanged with Lottie; and she succeeded very well.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It would make no difference to us whether we had one dish or ten; but it
-      makes all the difference in the world to Mr. Thrale. They say he has a
-      prodigious appetite, and eats of at least six heavy dishes of meat at
-      dinner.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Mr. Baretti affirms that some day he will not awake from the stupor into
-      which he falls after one of his heavy meals,&rdquo; said Susy.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And all the time Mrs. Thrale is entreating him to be more moderate,&rdquo;
-       cried Lottie.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;A humiliating duty for such as Mrs. Thrale,&rdquo; said her mother. &ldquo;That shows
-      how true is all that Fanny has remarked: a simple dish should be enough
-      for any reasonable person. I have often wondered how the converse at the
-      Streatham table could be so wise and witty if the master of the house eats
-      like a hog, and Dr. Johnson, suffering from ill-health, expends so much
-      energy over his pork that the veins stand out on his forehead and his face
-      is bathed in perspiration.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I am sure that Mrs. Thrale has wit and liveliness enough to serve for the
-      whole company,&rdquo; said Fanny.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;She is chatty enough, I doubt not,&rdquo; replied Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;There are those
-      who think she talks over-much for a woman.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Not for a woman of fashion,&rdquo; suggested Lottie with some pertness, when
-      their stepmother had left the room. &ldquo;It is long since Mrs. Thrale has
-      invited mother to one of the Streatham dinners,&rdquo; she added under her
-      breath.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And then the three fell upon the <i>Chronicle</i> for the announcement of
-      the book.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      They read it in whispers, each following the other, as though it were the
-      <i>piano</i> part of a catch or a glee, and glancing fearfully toward the
-      door now and again, lest it should open and Mrs. Burney reappear.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;How amazing it is!&rdquo; said Susy. &ldquo;This is the announcement of the birth of
-      a baby&mdash;and such a baby!&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The birth and the christening and all,&rdquo; said Lottie. &ldquo;Oh, Fanny, I had no
-      idea that it would be in the papers&mdash;I forgot that it would be
-      advertised; and when mamma read this out I thought I should sink through
-      the floor. So did you, I know.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I only wish that it had been possible,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;I could feel myself
-      getting hot all over my body. And then you gave me that look, Lottie!&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Could I help it?&rdquo; asked Lottie. &ldquo;You cannot blame me. I really thought
-      that it was you who gave me a look, as much as to say: 'If you let the cat
-      out of the bag I will never forgive you&mdash;no, never! '&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Never mind! Among us we managed to get out of the difficulty very well, I
-      think. Were we not clever, guiding the conversation away from Mr.
-      Lowndes's shop on to the high road to Streatham?&rdquo; cried Susy.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;'Twas the hash that saved us,&rdquo; said Lottie. &ldquo;Have you not heard dear Jim
-      applying the sailors' expression, to make a hash of something? But we
-      didn't make a hash of our matter, did we, Fanny?&rdquo; said Susan.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;We have become adroit dissemblers, and I am growing more ashamed of it
-      every day,&rdquo; cried Fanny. &ldquo;I have reached the condition of a man of whom I
-      read in a volume of history: he had committed a crime, and the effort that
-      it cost him to keep it hidden so preyed upon his mind that he could stand
-      the strain no longer, so he confessed it and was relieved.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But he could not have been really happy until they hanged him,&rdquo; said
-      Susy. &ldquo;And do you intend to confess and be hanged, Fanny? Please do not. I
-      think it is the most exciting thing in the world to share a secret like
-      this. I would not have missed the enjoyment for anything. Think, Fan, if
-      you were to confess, you would draw us into it too&mdash;you would make us
-      out to be as guilty as yourself.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I will not confess,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;No; it would not be honourable of me.
-      But I do feel that the secret is having a bad effect upon us all. It has
-      made us all such&mdash;such&mdash;dissemblers.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Psha!&rdquo; said Lottie with a sniff. &ldquo;That's only another way of saying that
-      we are ladies of quality at an early age.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Fanny shook her head. She thought that if any proof were needed of the ill
-      effects of their treasuring their secret from their parents, this cynical
-      pertness of Lottie supplied it. She shook her head.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I should like 'Evelina' to come into mamma's hands,&rdquo; continued Lottie.
-      &ldquo;She will go through the three volumes at a hand gallop, even though she
-      did take it upon her to condemn it as being on a level with the odious
-      stuff that comes to us nowadays.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And if she condemns it so heartily before she has read it, what will she
-      say about it when she has finished the last chapter?&rdquo; asked Fanny.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;She will say that it is the prettiest story that has been written since
-      her dear Mr. Richardson died,&rdquo; said Susy.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I doubt it, my dear,&rdquo; said Fanny.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, let the worst come, she will never guess that you wrote it,&rdquo;
-       laughed Lottie.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It is the padre whom I fear,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;Surely he will not need to go
-      beyond the Ode on the first leaf to know that it is he himself whom I
-      address.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And if he should&mdash;smoke it?&rdquo; asked Susy, lapsing into slang which
-      she had acquired from her sailor brother, who was in no sense a purist.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;If he should&mdash;well, either of two things will happen,&rdquo; replied the
-      authoress. &ldquo;He will either think me the most double-dealing wretch in the
-      world or the most dutiful of daughters.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And which will be right?&rdquo; asked Lottie.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Both views will be right,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;Although I meant every word of
-      the Ode, I really think now that the idea of writing it before the
-      dedication came to me only when I felt that I had behaved badly in sending
-      the book to the printer without his consent.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You wished the Ode to be a sort of peace-offering?&rdquo; said Susy. &ldquo;You hoped
-      that when he read it he would forget to be angry? Well, that was cunning
-      of you, Fanny!&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I tell you that the whole affair has had a bad effect upon us all,&rdquo; said
-      Fanny gently.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Once again she was conscious of someone telling her that there was no use
-      crying over spilt milk, and this impression was followed by one that took
-      the form of a resolution to be more careful in future. If she had spilt
-      some milk once, that was no reason why she should not, by exercising
-      proper forethought, refrain from doing so again.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But the book was now given to the world, if the world would have it, but
-      as yet a copy had not come into her hand. She wondered if she would have
-      to spend seven and sixpence in buying a copy. Seven shillings and
-      sixpence, sewed. It was a great deal of money. Was it possible that there
-      were five hundred people in the world ready to pay seven and sixpence for
-      a novel with the name of no author on the title page? (She thought it best
-      to leave out of her consideration altogether the possible purchasers of
-      the nine shilling set of bound volumes.)
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Who were the people that ever laid out so much money upon books which
-      could be read through between the rising and the setting of the sun? She
-      had never met such liberal enthusiasts. Of course, it was only reasonable
-      that so splendid a work as the &ldquo;History of Music&rdquo; should be in the library
-      of every house wherein people of taste resided, but that was not a book to
-      be galloped through; some people might not be able to read it within a
-      month. Besides, it bore the honoured name of Dr. Burney on the title page,
-      and the fame of Dr. Burney was great. But as for that poor little
-      seven-and-sixpenny sewed &ldquo;Evelina,&rdquo; how should anyone take an interest in
-      her without reading her story? How would anyone read her story without
-      feeling afterwards that seven-and-sixpence (leaving the nine shilling
-      expenditure out of the question) was a ridiculous price to pay for such an
-      entertainment?
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      She felt that people would come to look on her as the instigator of a
-      fraud if they paid their money and read the book and then found out that
-      she had written it. The wisdom of concealing her name even from the
-      bookseller was now more apparent to her than it had ever been. She had
-      visions of indignant purchasers railing against Mr. Lowndes, and Mr.
-      Lowndes searching for her, so that he might rail against her; and so her
-      speculations ended in laughter; but even her laughter grated upon her
-      sensitive ears: she felt that it was the malicious jeering of a clever
-      cheat at the thought of having got the better of a worthy man.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Her precious &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; was leading her a pretty dance. If it had not been
-      able to do so it would have been a paltry sort of book and she would have
-      been a paltry sort of author.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XX
-    </h2>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>WO or three weeks
-      passed without her hearing anything of the book, and it seemed as if it
-      had fallen, as she had at some moments hoped it would fall, like a dull
-      stone into the depths of the sea. She heard nothing of it, and soon she
-      perceived that her sisters felt grievously disappointed at its failure to
-      produce any impression upon the town. Even a dull stone, if dropped into
-      the deep, creates a little fuss on the surface before it sinks out of
-      sight; but Fanny's book did not, so far as they could see, produce even so
-      superficial an impression. What they expected of it they might have had
-      some trouble explaining; but as it was, they could not conceal their
-      disappointment from Fanny; and they showed it after a short time in a very
-      delicate way: they never alluded to the book in her presence. She
-      perceived that what was in their minds was that it would show very bad
-      taste on their part to refer to it in any way. She was grateful for their
-      consideration; and she resolved to accept their decision on this point as
-      final; she would never allude to the horrid thing in their hearing.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It so happened, however, that she was left alone with Susy in the house
-      one evening. Dr. Burney and his wife had gone to a concert at Esther's,
-      and Lottie was staying for a day or two in the country. Susy was
-      practising her part of a new duet on the piano, and Fanny was at her
-      sewing. So far as conversation between the two sisters was concerned, the
-      evening had been a very silent one. Indeed, during the whole week a
-      constrained silence had marked the intercourse of the three girls.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Susy hammered away at the music for half an hour; then her playing became
-      more fitful, and at last it ceased altogether.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      There was a long silence before Fanny heard a little sound that caused her
-      to raise her head. It was the sound of a sob, and when she looked up she
-      saw that Susy was leaning her forehead upon the bottom of the music rest,
-      weeping bitterly.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Fanny was by her side in a moment.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Dearest Susy, what is the matter?&rdquo; she said soothingly. &ldquo;Tell me, dear;
-      has anything happened? Has anyone been unkind to you? Have I unwittingly
-      done or said anything that seemed to you unkind? Tell me all, Susy.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      But Susy continued crying with her face hidden, though she yielded one of
-      her hands to Fanny.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Come, my dear, I have helped you before now, and I may be able to help
-      you now. Prithee, what is your trouble?&rdquo; said Fanny, putting her arm round
-      the girl's shoulders.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Still Susy remained silent, except for her sobs.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Tell me,&rdquo; said Fanny, in a whisper. &ldquo;Is it that you think that I am
-      chagrined about&mdash;about&mdash;the book?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      In an instant Susy had whirled round on her seat and flung her arms round
-      her sister's neck, laying her head on her shoulder.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, Fanny, Fanny, 'tis too cruel!&rdquo; she sobbed. &ldquo;We were sure that so much
-      would come of it&mdash;it seemed so splendid to read, even before it was
-      printed&mdash;so much better than any other story that ever came into our
-      hands&mdash;and you worked so hard at it&mdash;every spare moment when you
-      might have been enjoying yourself&mdash;in the cold of last winter up in
-      that room&mdash;and at Lynn too&mdash;and Chessington&mdash;and now, when
-      we think that your cleverness, your patience, your genius, is to be
-      rewarded, nothing comes of it&mdash;all your trouble has gone for nothing&mdash;all
-      our secrecy! Oh, it is too cruel!&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You dear child,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;It is only cruel if it sets you crying in
-      this way. What does it matter to anyone if the book has gone and nothing
-      has come of it? I have been thinking that writing a book and publishing it
-      is like throwing a stone into the sea. It may fall so that it sinks down
-      plumb, or it may fall so that it makes a splash for a while, but it sinks
-      to the bottom all the same. Success or failure is only the difference
-      between a splash and a ripple. We were fools to fancy that our little
-      stone would float.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But it was not a stone, it was full of life and it should have&mdash;it
-      should have&mdash;swum! Oh, the people who buy books are so stupid!&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;They are&mdash;that was the hope that I builded on. They are stupid, but
-      not stupid enough to buy my book.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, Fanny!&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That is really the frame of mind that I find myself in to-day. I tell you
-      truly, Susy, that after the first week, I schooled myself to think of the
-      business in this way; and I am certain that in another month I shall even
-      feel delighted that my little pebble made no splash. Look at the matter
-      philosophically, Susy.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, philosophically!&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, reasonably. Are we in a different position to-day from that we were
-      in before the book was published? We are not. We are just the same as we
-      were before. It has not injured us in any way. Nay, if you think of it, we
-      are&mdash;I, at least, am&mdash;all the better for having failed, for I
-      have learned my lesson. I was beginning to feel cleverer than I had any
-      right to think myself, and this has come as a chastening&mdash;to make me
-      know my right place. These rebukes do not come by chance, Susy. I know now
-      that I was inclined to hold my head too high. I don't think that I will do
-      so again.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You never held your head too high&mdash;just the opposite. And I think it
-      very cruel that you should be rebuked for nothing. But I do not blame <i>anyone</i>
-      except the wretched people who refused to buy your nice book, but spent
-      their seven and sixpence at Vauxhall or Ranelagh&mdash;perhaps watching
-      Mr. Foote and his puppets at the Haymarket. Oh, I have no patience with
-      them! Why, it only needed a thousand people to buy the book and it would
-      have been accounted a success!&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Then we shall put the blame on the shoulders of that thousand,
-      wheresoever they may be found, and for my part I shall not hold a second
-      thousand altogether blameless&mdash;my indignation may even extend to a
-      third. Now, that's the last word I mean to speak about the book. It has by
-      this time reached the bottom of the sea on which I threw it; and there let
-      it lie!&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You are an angel&mdash;I see that plainly now.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Ah, there you see, what I said was true: I am much better for the rebuke
-      I talked about; you never perceived before that I was an angel. Now let
-      that be the last word between us on the subject of my poor little
-      'Evelina.' Her entrance into the world has proved fatal. Oh, Susy, she was
-      stillborn, but her parent is making a rapid recovery.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That may be; but cannot you join with me in&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I will join with you in maintaining silence on the subject of the little
-      one. I cannot bear to hear her name mentioned. I refuse to say another
-      word about her or her fate. She must have been greatly beloved of the gods
-      to die so young. Let that be 'Evelina's' epitaph. I will say nothing more
-      about her.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      It so happened, however, that she was compelled to say a good deal more on
-      the subject, for within half an hour Cousin Edward had called, and he
-      began to talk of &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; at once.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I went to Hill's library in the Strand yesterday, to get a book for
-      mother, and there, sure enough, I saw your 'Evelina,'&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;I asked
-      the man in charge what it was about, and he replied that he didn't know;
-      it was bad enough, he thought, to be compelled to hand out books all day
-      to readers without being forced to read them for himself; but he supposed
-      that 'Evelina' was a novel of the usual sort.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That was not extravagant praise,&rdquo; remarked Susy.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;He didn't mean to praise it,&rdquo; said Edward. &ldquo;But when I asked him if
-      anyone who had read it had recommended it, he admitted that every one of
-      the five ladies who had read it was ready to speak well of it&mdash;one of
-      them had taken it away a second time; and&mdash;would you believe it?&mdash;while
-      I was standing at the counter a footman entered the shop with a demand for
-      'Eveliena,' as he called it; and he carried off the copy that was already
-      on the desk.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;For the delectation of the servants' hall?&rdquo; suggested Fanny.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Not at all&mdash;it had been recommended to her ladyship, he said, and he
-      had been commanded on no account to return without it; her ladyship was
-      liberal; she would not mind paying sixpence for it, instead of the
-      ordinary fourpence.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That was more than liberal, it was generous to a degree,&rdquo; said Fanny.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Don't interrupt him,&rdquo; cried Susy. &ldquo;Continue your narrative, Eddy. I am
-      dying to hear the rest.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I asked the library man if he knew who wrote the book, and he replied
-      that he had heard the name, but had forgotten it; so far as he remembered
-      the author was a peer of high rank but eccentric habits,&rdquo; said Edward.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The book represented his eccentric habits, I suppose,&rdquo; remarked Fanny.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I ran out of the place roaring,&rdquo; said Edward. &ldquo;'A peer of high rank but
-      eccentric habits'&mdash;describes you to a T, doesn't it, Cousin Fanny?
-      Pray what is your lordship's next work to be, and when will it be given to
-      an eager world?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Is that all you have to tell?&rdquo; asked Susy.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;By no means. When I heard that the book was thought well of in the
-      Strand, I thought I would try to get at the opinion of Stanhope Street&mdash;you
-      know Masterman's circulating library there? Well, I boldly entered, and
-      there, sure enough, was a well-thumbed 'Evelina' in front of the
-      librarian. I asked for some book that no one had ever heard of, and when
-      the librarian had told me that he had never been asked for that book
-      before, I pointed to 'Evelina,' inquiring if it was any good. 'I'm dead
-      tired on account of its goodness, for I was fool enough to take it to bed
-      with me last night, and I never closed my eyes in sleep,' he replied. 'I
-      had it praised to me by a lady of quality, and so too hastily concluded
-      that it would either send me asleep with its dullness, or shock me with
-      its ribaldry; but it did neither, unhappily.' Just then a chariot stopped
-      at the door and another footman entered with the name 'Evelina' written on
-      a sheet of paper, and off he popped with the full three volumes under his
-      arm. I waited no longer; but hurried hither to give you my news. I did not
-      get so far, however, for I was unlucky enough to be overtaken by that vile
-      downpour of rain, and it did not blow over until your dinner hour was at
-      hand.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You are my good angel,&rdquo; cried Fanny, her cheeks glowing. &ldquo;We have heard
-      nothing of all this respecting the book, and, hearing nothing, we took it
-      for granted that it was dead&mdash;dead before it was ever alive. Oh, this
-      is good news you have brought us, Eddy!&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The best news that has come to us for months!&rdquo; said Susy. She had turned
-      her head away and was furtively wiping her eyes. The good news affected
-      the sympathetic Susy almost as deeply as her disappointment had done.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But I have only told you of my adventures of yesterday,&rdquo; said Edward.
-      &ldquo;To-day I tried the booksellers, beginning with Mr. Davies and
-      working-round to the Dillys in the Poultry&mdash;it cost me three
-      shillings, for I had to buy something that I did not particularly want in
-      every shop to excuse my inquiries&mdash;and I found 'Evelina' on every
-      counter. I cannot say that any customer came in to buy it while I was in
-      any shop, but you may be sure that the book would not be on the counter
-      unless it was highly thought of. Of course I had need to be very discreet
-      among the booksellers; I dared not ask who was the author, but I longed to
-      do so, if only to hear what new story had been made up about it.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You heard quite enough to make us glad,&rdquo; cried Susy. &ldquo;Oh, how foolish we
-      were to take it for granted that because we had no news of the book, it
-      was dead! It is alive&mdash;greatly alive, it would appear! How could any
-      news of it have come to us here? We should have gone forth in search of
-      it.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I knew that we could depend on your discretion,&rdquo; said Fanny, laying a
-      hand on each of his shoulders. &ldquo;I do not think that I ever thanked you as
-      I should for the wise way in which you managed the business with Mr.
-      Lowndes, and now I must not neglect to do so for having acted the part of
-      a benevolent agent in bringing us such good news about the book.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Psha! there should be no talk of gratitude and the like between us,&rdquo; said
-      he. &ldquo;There are family ties&mdash;I think of the honour of our family.
-      People already talk of the clever Burneys, but they left you out of the
-      question, Cousin Fanny, since they only thought of music. But now that you
-      have shown what you can do in another direction, you must be reckoned with
-      alongside the others.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And what about the other branch of the clever Burneys?&rdquo; said Fanny.
-      &ldquo;Don't you think that people will some of these days begin to ask if
-      Edward Burney, the great painter, is really a brother of the musical
-      Burneys? I hope they will, dear Edward; I hope that the fame of Edward
-      Burney, the painter, will go far beyond that of the musical Burneys, as
-      well as poor Fanny Burney who once wrote a novel.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      The young man blushed as Fanny herself would certainly have done if
-      confronted with the least little compliment. But there was no false shame
-      about his acceptance of her suggestion.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I mean to become as good a painter as I can, in order to be worthy of the
-      name of Burney,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;I feel proud of being a Burney&mdash;more so
-      to-day than ever before, and I hope that the rest of the Burney's will
-      some day look on me as doing credit to our name.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I am sure that they will have every reason to do so,&rdquo; said Fanny.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      When he had gone, Susy gave way to her delight at the news which he had
-      brought. She was a good deal taller than Fanny, and catching her round the
-      waist after the manner of the Elizabethan dancer with his partner, she
-      danced round the table with her, lilting a somewhat breathless pæan. Fanny
-      herself needed no coaxing to be her partner in this revel. In her jubilant
-      moments she got rid of the primness which most people associated with her.
-      She had a wild jig known as &ldquo;Nancy Dawson,&rdquo; and she had more than once
-      found it necessary to get rid of her superfluous spirits through this
-      medium. She joined in her sister's little whoop at the completion of the
-      third &ldquo;lap&rdquo; of the table, and they both threw themselves breathless on the
-      sofa.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I knew it,&rdquo; said Susy between her gasps. &ldquo;I knew that I could not be
-      mistaken in believing 'Evelina' to be good&mdash;I knew that she would
-      make her way in the affections of her readers, and I was right&mdash;you
-      see I was right.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You were right, dear Susy&mdash;quite right,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;I do not like
-      to be too sanguine, but I do believe, from the reports Eddy brought us,
-      that the book will find plenty of readers. Now that we can think over the
-      matter in a reasonable way, we must see how foolish we were to expect that
-      the very day after the book was published people would crowd to buy it;
-      but now, after six weeks, when Eddy goes in search of news about it, he
-      brings back a report which is&mdash;we had best say for the present no
-      more than 'quite satisfactory'&mdash;that was the bookseller's report
-      about the sales of the first volume of the padre's 'History'&mdash;'quite
-      satisfactory'&mdash;that should be quite satisfactory for the author of
-      'Evelina' and her sisters. There is nothing in the book to stir people as
-      it would if written by Mr. Wilkes, but in its humble way it will, I am now
-      persuaded, be pronounced 'quite satisfactory.' At any rate, there goes my
-      sewing for the evening.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      She rolled up the strip of linen into a ball and used her hand, after two
-      false starts, as a battledore, to send it flying across the room within
-      reach of Susy, who, being more adroit, was able at the first attempt to
-      return it with both force and precision. Once more Fanny struck it, and
-      her sister sent it back, but by this time the unequal ball had opened out,
-      so that it was only by her foot that Fanny could deal with it effectively.
-      Then, daintily holding up their petticoats, the author of &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; and
-      Susy Burney played with the thing until once more they were panting and
-      laughing joyously.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Perhaps Fanny had a faint inkling of the symbolism implied by this
-      treatment of the discarded needlework.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XXI
-    </h2>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>UT little Miss
-      Burney had recovered all her primness on the evening when, a week later,
-      she accompanied her stepmother to partake of tea at the home of the
-      Barlowes in the Poultry.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Young Mr. Barlowe had, for some time after his visit to St. Martin's
-      Street, brooded over his indiscretion in allowing his impulse at the
-      moment of saying good night to carry him away so that he pressed Miss
-      Burney's hand, looking into her eyes with an expression in his own of the
-      deepest sympathy&mdash;rather more than sympathy. He felt that he had been
-      unduly and indiscreetly hasty in his action. It had been purely impulsive.
-      He had by no means made up his mind that Miss Burney would make him a
-      satisfactory wife. His father and mother had, for a long time, thought
-      very highly of Mrs. Burney, looking on her as a most thrifty and excellent
-      manager of a household. She had shown herself to be all this and more when
-      her first husband was alive and they had visited her at Lynn; and she had
-      proved her capabilities in the same direction since she had married Dr.
-      Burney. Unfortunately, however, the virtues of a stepmother could not be
-      depended on to descend to the children of her husband's family, and it was
-      by no means certain that Miss Burney had made full use of her
-      opportunities of modelling herself upon her father's second wife.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      No, he had not quite made up his mind on this subject&mdash;the gravest
-      that had ever occupied his attention, and he remained sleepless for hours,
-      fearful that he had gone too far in that look and that squeeze. He had
-      heard of fathers and even brothers waiting upon young men who had acted
-      toward a daughter or a sister pretty much as he had in regard to Miss
-      Burney. He had rather a dread of being visited by Miss Burney's brother,
-      that young naval officer who had boasted of having been educated by a
-      murderer. Mr. Barlowe thought that a visit from such a young man would be
-      most undesirable, and for several days he went about his business with
-      great uneasiness.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But when a week had gone by and neither father nor brother had waited upon
-      him, he began to review his position more indulgently than when he had
-      previously given it his consideration. He thought more hopefully of Miss
-      Burney as a wife. Perhaps she might have profited more largely than he had
-      thought by her daily intercourse with so capable a woman as Mrs. Burney.
-      At any rate, she was not musical, and that was something in her favour.
-      Then her stepmother had praised her needlework, and everyone knows that to
-      be a good sempstress is next to being a good housekeeper.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      He thought that on the whole she would do. Her brother, Lieutenant Burney,
-      would naturally spend most of his time at sea. That was a good thing.
-      Thomas felt that he should hesitate to make any change in his life that
-      involved a liability of frequent visits from a young man who had been
-      taught by a murderer. Who could tell what might happen in the case of such
-      a young man? As for Miss Burney herself, she was, quite apart from her
-      housewifely qualities, a most estimable young lady&mdash;modest and
-      retiring, as a young woman should be, and very beautiful. To be sure, he
-      had often heard that beauty was only skin deep, but even assuming that it
-      did not go any deeper, it had always been highly esteemed by men&mdash;none
-      of them seemed to wish it to be of any greater depth; and it was certain
-      that a man with a handsome wife was greatly envied&mdash;more so even than
-      a man who was married to a plain woman but a good housewife. Oh,
-      undoubtedly her beauty commended her to his most indulgent consideration.
-      He had no objection in the world to be widely envied, if only on account
-      of his wife's good looks. It never occurred to him that it might be that
-      some people would think very ordinary a face that seemed to one who was in
-      love with it extremely lovely. He preserved the precious privilege of a
-      man to raise up his own standard of beauty and expect all the rest of the
-      world to acknowledge its supremacy.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Yes, he thought that Miss Burney, beauty and all, would suit him, but
-      still he hesitated in making another call.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      This was when Mr. Kendal had the honour of waiting upon Mrs. Burney, and
-      his visit only preceded by a day or two Mrs. Burney's call upon her old
-      friend, Mrs. Barlowe, in the Poultry; this interchange of courtesies being
-      speedily followed by an invitation for Mrs. Burney and a stepdaughter to
-      drink tea with the Barlowe family.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I am taking you with me, Fanny, because you are the eldest and, as should
-      be, the most sensible of the household,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney, explaining&mdash;so
-      far as she thought wise&mdash;the invitation on the morning it was
-      received. &ldquo;There will be no music at Mrs. Barlowe's, I think, and so you
-      will have no distracting influence to prevent your forming a just opinion
-      of my old friends.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I do not mind in the least the absence of music for one night,&rdquo; said
-      Fanny.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I am sure of that,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;Goodness knows we have music
-      enough here during any day to last us over a whole week. The others could
-      not live without it, even if it were not your father's profession.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Without which none of us could live,&rdquo; remarked Fanny, who had no wish to
-      be forced into the position of the opponent of music in the household.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Quite right, my dear,&rdquo; acquiesced the elder lady. &ldquo;It is a precarious way
-      of making a living. To my mind there is nothing so satisfactory as a good
-      commercial business&mdash;a merchant with a shop at his back can afford to
-      laugh at all the world.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But he usually refrains,&rdquo; said Fanny.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;True; he looks at life with proper seriousness, and without levity. Great
-      fortunes are the result of serious attention to business. Levity leads to
-      poverty.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Except in the case of Mr. Garrick and a few others.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Mr. Garrick is certainly an exception. But, then, you must remember that
-      he was a merchant before he became an actor, and his business habits never
-      left him. I have heard it said that he got more out of his company for the
-      salaries he paid than any theatre manager in Europe. But I did not come to
-      you to talk about Mr. Garrick. I only meant to say that I know you are an
-      observant girl. You do not merely glance at the surface of things, so I am
-      sure that you will perceive much to respect in all the members of Mrs.
-      Barlowe's family.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I am sure they are eminently&mdash;respectable, mamma; and I am glad that
-      you have chosen me to be your companion this evening. I like going among
-      such people&mdash;it is useful.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      She stopped short in a way that should have aroused the suspicions of Mrs.
-      Burney, but that lady was unsuspecting, she was only puzzled.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Useful?&rdquo; she said interrogatively.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Fanny had no mind to explain that she thought herself rather good at
-      describing people of the Barlowe type, and was ready to submit herself to
-      more experience of them in case she might be encouraged to write another
-      novel. But she knew that she would have some difficulty in explaining this
-      to her stepmother, who herself was an excellent type.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Useful&mdash;perhaps I should rather have said 'instructive,'&rdquo; she
-      replied, after a little pause.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Instructive, yes; I am glad that you look at our visit so sensibly&mdash;I
-      knew you would do so. Yes, you should learn much of the excellence of
-      these people even in the short time that we shall be with them. And it is
-      well that you should remember, my dear Fanny, that you are now quite old
-      enough to have a house of your own to look after.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      It was now Fanny's turn to seem puzzled.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I do not quite see how&mdash;I mean why&mdash;why&mdash;that is, the
-      connection&mdash;is there any connection between&mdash;&mdash;?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What I mean to say is that if at some time a suitor for your hand should
-      appear, belonging to a respectable mercantile family, you will know,
-      without the need of any telling, that your chances of happiness with such
-      a man are far greater than they would be were you to wed someone whose
-      means of getting a living were solely the practice of some of the arts, as
-      they are called&mdash;music or painting or the rest.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I do not doubt that, mamma,&rdquo; said Fanny demurely. She was beginning to
-      think that her stepmother was a far better type than she had fancied.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And her stepmother was beginning to think that she had never given Fanny
-      credit for all the good sense she possessed.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The six o'clock tea-party in the Poultry was a function that Fanny
-      Burney's quick pen only could describe as it deserved to be described. All
-      the time that it was proceeding her fingers were itching to start on it.
-      She could see Mr. Crisp smiling in that appreciative way that he had, as
-      he read her smart sentences, every one of them with its little acid
-      flavour, that remained on the palate of his memory. She was an artist in
-      character drawing, and she was one of the first to perceive how excellent
-      was the material for artistic treatment that might be found in the house
-      of the English tradesman&mdash;the superior tradesman who aspired to be
-      called a merchant. She neglected no opportunity of observing such houses;
-      it was only when she was daily consorting with people of the highest rank
-      that she became alarmed lest her descriptions should be accepted as proof
-      that she was in the habit of meeting on terms of intimacy the types of
-      English bourgeois which she had drawn.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The ground-floor of Mr. Barlowe's house in the Poultry was given over to
-      his business, which, as has already been mentioned, was that of a vendor
-      of gold and silver lace. The walls carried shelves from floor to ceiling,
-      and every shelf had its line of boxes enclosing samples of an abundant and
-      valuable stock. The large room at the back was a sort of counting-house
-      parlour, where Mr. Barlowe sat during the day with his son and an elderly
-      clerk, ready for the customers, whose arrival was announced by the ringing
-      of a spring.-bell. The scales for the weighing of the bullion and the
-      worked gold and silver wire were suspended above, the broad counter in the
-      shop, and from a hook between the shelves there hung a number of ruled
-      forms with spaces for oz., dwt. and grs. On these were entered the
-      particulars of the material supplied to the workmen who made up the lace
-      as required. The upper part of the house was the home of the family, the
-      spacious dining-room being in the front, its convex windows overhanging
-      the busy thoroughfare. Opening off this apartment was an equally large
-      drawingroom, and the furniture of both was of walnut made in the reign of
-      Queen Anne, with an occasional piece of Dutch marqueterie of the heavier
-      character favoured by the craftsmen of the previous sovereigns. The rooms
-      themselves were panelled with oak and lighted by candles in brass sconces.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It seemed to Fanny, on entering the diningroom, that every seat was
-      occupied. But she soon saw that there were several vacant chairs. It was
-      the imposing row of figures confronting her that made the room seem full,
-      although only six persons were present besides young Mr. Barlowe and his
-      parents, who met Mrs. Burney and her stepdaughter at the door. Fanny
-      greeted Thomas at once, and she could see that his eyes were beaming, but
-      with a rather more subdued light than shone in them on that night when he
-      had pressed her hand.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      She was conscious, at the same time, of the approach of a big elderly
-      gentleman, wearing a well-ordered wig, evidently newly curled, with a
-      small lady clad in expensive and expansive black silk by his side. He was
-      holding the tips of her fingers and they advanced in step as though they
-      were starting to dance a minuet.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      They stood in front of her and her mother, while Thomas, moving to one
-      side, said, making a low bow:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Miss Burney, I have the honour to present to you my father, Mr. Barlowe,
-      and my mother, Mrs. Barlowe. Mrs. Burney, madam, you are, I know, already
-      acquainted with my parents.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      The little lady curtsied and her husband made a fine shopkeeper's bow,
-      first to Fanny, then to Mrs. Burney.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The formality of the presentation was overwhelming to poor Fanny. She
-      could feel herself blushing, and she certainly was more overcome than she
-      had been when Count Orloff, the Russian, visited the house in St. Martin's
-      Street and she gazed with awe upon the thumb that had, it was rumoured,
-      pressed too rigidly the wind-pipe of the unfortunate Peter. All that she
-      could do was to try to hide her confusion by the deepest of curtsies.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;We are sensible of the honour you have done us, madam,&rdquo; said Mr. Barlowe
-      when he had recovered himself&mdash;he was addressing Fanny, ignoring for
-      the moment the presence of Mrs. Burney.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Our son has spoken to us of you with great admiration, Miss Burney,&rdquo; said
-      the little lady. &ldquo;But I protest that when I look at you I feel as King
-      Solomon did when he saw the Queen of Sheba, the half has not been told.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, madam, you flatter me,&rdquo; said Fanny, trying to put some force into a
-      voice that her shyness had rendered scarcely audible.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Her stepmother, perceiving how she was suffering, hastened to greet in a
-      much less formal way their host and hostess; but she had considerable
-      difficulty in bringing them down to her level. It seemed that they had
-      prepared some high phrases of welcome for their younger visitor only, and
-      they had no mind that they should be wasted.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;My stepdaughter is of a retiring nature,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;She is quite
-      unused to such ceremony as you honour her with. Well, Martha, how is the
-      rheumatism?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XXII
-    </h2>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>RS. BARLOWE did
-      not seem half pleased to be brought down so from the high parallels of
-      etiquette among which she had been soaring. But she had lost her place,
-      and before she could recover herself, Fanny had slipped behind her
-      stepmother.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Ask me all about her rheumatism, madam, for 'tis me that knows more about
-      it than her,&rdquo; said Mr. Barlowe, with a jerk of his thumb and a wink in the
-      direction of his wife. The homely enquiry of Mrs. Burney had clearly
-      forced him to throw off all ceremony and treat the visit of Miss Burney as
-      an ordinary domestic incident.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      His wife would have none of this, however; she said in tones of stiff
-      reproof:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Mr. Barlowe, you forget that the young lady has not been presented to
-      Brother Jonathan or the Alderman. Thomas, it is for you to usher the lady
-      into the presence of your uncles and aunts. Pray be not remiss, Thomas.
-      There is no excuse for such an omission.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I was only waiting until you had finished, ma'am,&rdquo; said Thomas.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I have finished,&rdquo; she replied, with a stiff nod. &ldquo;To be sure, 'twas my
-      intention to express, in what I trust would be appropriate terms, our
-      happiness in welcoming Miss Burney to our humble home; a few phrases of
-      this sort were not thought out of place when I was young; but it appears
-      that your father knows better what is <i>comme il faut</i> and <i>haut ton</i>
-      than me. Bring the young lady forward, Thomas.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      The younger Thomas looked dubiously from his mother to his father. He was
-      uncommonly like an actor who had forgotten his part, Fanny thought&mdash;he
-      had no initiative. Fanny herself was more at home than any of the
-      household. While the young man hesitated, she walked up the room as if she
-      meant to present herself to the six figures that sat in a row at the
-      farther end.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Thomas was beside her in a moment.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I ask your pardon, Miss Burney,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;But I knew that mamma had at
-      least two more welcomes for your ear, and I feared that she had forgot
-      them. Do not you think that mamma speaks well? Perhaps it would be unjust
-      to judge her by what she said&mdash;she only made a beginning. You will be
-      delighted when you are going away.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Fanny felt that this prediction was certain to be realized.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, mamma's good-byes are as well worded as her greetings,&rdquo; he
-      continued; &ldquo;a clergyman could scarcely better them; and I hope&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      But now they were face to face with the six figures sitting in a row, and
-      as his conversation was only designed as an accompaniment to the march of
-      Fanny to this position, there was no reason to continue it.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The figures were of two men and four ladies. The former were middle-aged
-      and bore an expression of gravity that a judge might have envied. Their
-      dress was sombre, but of the finest material possible to buy, and each of
-      them was painfully conscious of being in unusual garments. Of course,
-      Fanny saw in a moment that they were merchants wearing the garments in
-      which they attended church.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Of the four ladies, three were elderly and the fourth much younger. They
-      wore their hair built up in a way that suggested that they desired to
-      follow the fashion but had not the courage to complete the scheme with
-      which they had started. The long and thin and highly-coloured feathers
-      which crowned the stunted structures on their heads gave them the
-      appearance of a picture of unfamiliar birds. Their dresses were extremely
-      glossy and of an expensive material, but there was an eccentric note about
-      all that made them seem not impressive as they should have been, but
-      almost ludicrous. The youngest lady in the row showed unmistakable signs
-      of being given to simpering. She had gone much further than the others of
-      the party in the architecture of her hair, but that was possibly because
-      the material at her command was more abundant. The dressing of her hair,
-      however, was by no means in sympathy with the style of her garments, the
-      latter being simple and indeed rather too girlish for the wearer, who
-      looked between twenty-five and thirty.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It was an extraordinary ordeal that confronted Miss Burney, for young Mr.
-      Barlowe began presenting her to the group, starting from his left and
-      working slowly to the last of the row on the right. There was she with the
-      young man standing close to her, but sideways, doing the formalities of
-      presenting her, while his father and mother stood behind to see that he
-      omitted nothing. Mrs. Burney, a little way apart, was alternately smiling
-      and frowning at the ceremonial. She could see, from observing the effect
-      that the whole business was producing upon Fanny, that the Barlowes were
-      defeating their own ends, assuming that they desired Fanny to become a
-      member of their family. These absurd formalities were, Mrs. Burney knew,
-      quite out of place in a private house. But what could she do to cut them
-      short? She had made an attempt before, and it was received in anything but
-      a friendly spirit by their hostess, so that she did not feel inclined to
-      interfere again: the thing must run its course, she felt, reflecting upon
-      it as though it were a malady. There was no means of curtailing it.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And its course was a slow one for the unhappy victim.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Miss Burney, I have the honour to present my aunt on my mother's side&mdash;Mrs.
-      Alderman Kensit,&rdquo; droned Thomas, and the lady on the extreme left rose at
-      the mention of her name and made a carefully prepared curtsey, while the
-      sky-blue feather in her hair jerked awkwardly forward until the end almost
-      touched her nose.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Proud to meet Miss Burney, I vow,&rdquo; said she as she rose; and anyone could
-      see from the expression on her face that she was satisfied that she had
-      gone far in proving her claim to be looked on as a lady of fashion. She
-      had never said &ldquo;I vow&rdquo; before, and she knew that it had startled her
-      relations. She felt that she could not help that. Miss Burney would
-      understand that she was face to face with someone who had mingled with the
-      best.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And this is Aunt Maria, father's sister, Mrs. Hutchings,&rdquo; came the voice
-      of Thomas, and the second lady bobbed up with quivering feathers and made
-      a well-practised curtsey. She did not trust herself to speak. Having heard
-      her neighbour's &ldquo;I vow,&rdquo; she knew that she could not go farther. She would
-      not compete with such an exponent of the mysteries of <i>haut ton</i>.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And this is Alderman Kensit of the Common Council; he is my uncle on my
-      mother's side&mdash;mother is a Kensit, you know,&rdquo; resumed Thomas. &ldquo;And
-      this is Aunt Jelicoe. My mother's sister married Mr. Jelicoe, of Tooley
-      Street. And this is my cousin, Miss Jelicoe. I am sure that you will like
-      Miss Jelicoe, Miss Burney, she is so young.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      The youngest lady of the group simpered with great shyness, concealing
-      half her face with her fan and holding her head to one side, and then
-      pretending to be terribly fluttered. Her curtsey was made in a flurry, and
-      with a little exclamation of &ldquo;Oh, la!&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Another uncle only remained to be presented; he turned out to be Mr.
-      Jonathan Barlowe, and he was, Thomas whispered half audibly to Fanny, in
-      trade in the Indies.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It was all over, curtsies and bows and exclamations&mdash;echoes of the
-      world of fashion and elsewhere&mdash;she had been presented to every
-      member of the row and they had resumed their seats, while she hastened to
-      the side of her stepmother, hot and breathless. She had never before been
-      subjected to such an ordeal. She had gladly agreed to accompany her
-      stepmother to this house, for she hoped thereby to increase her
-      observation of a class of people who repaid her study of them; but she had
-      no notion that she should have to vacate her place as an Observer and take
-      up that of a Participator. She was to pay dearly for her experience.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      She was burning, her stepmother could see; and she believed that this was
-      due to her mortification on noticing that the dress of the ladies was
-      infinitely more expensive than hers. That would be enough to make any
-      young woman with ordinary susceptibilities indignant, she felt; and she
-      herself, having had an opportunity of giving some attention to the
-      expensive silks&mdash;she could appraise their value to a penny&mdash;was
-      conscious of some chagrin on this account. She was almost out of patience
-      with her old friend, Martha Barlowe, for making all this parade. The
-      foolish woman had done so, she knew, in order to impress Miss Burney and
-      to give her to understand that she was becoming associated with no
-      ordinary family. But Mrs. Burney had seen enough since she had left Lynn
-      for London to know that Fanny would not be the least impressed except in
-      the direction of boredom by such an excess of ceremony in the house of a
-      tradesman. She had heard Fanny's comment upon the gorgeous chariot which
-      Sir Joshua Reynolds had set up, and she could not doubt what Fanny's
-      opinion would be regarding this simple tea to which she had consented to
-      go at the Barlowes' house.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Fanny had hurried to her side as soon as she had passed the row of uncles
-      and aunts. She thought that the girl seemed overcome by the tedium of the
-      formalities; but in a few minutes she saw that Fanny was on the verge of
-      laughter.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Mrs. Burney could not say whether she would rather that her charge became
-      moody or hilarious.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Eight separate curtsies,&rdquo; murmured Fanny. &ldquo;If there are to be the same
-      number going away we should begin at once.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Mrs. Burney thought it better not to reprove her for her flippancy just at
-      that moment. She condoned it with a smile.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Only a minute were the Burneys left to themselves. Mr. Barlowe, the elder,
-      walked solemnly up to them.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Going on nicely, eh?&rdquo; he said in a confidential way to Mrs. Burney.
-      &ldquo;Everything being done decently and in order, madam. There has been no
-      cause of offence up to the present, though there are three persons in that
-      row who are as ready to see an offence where none is meant as a bunch of
-      flax to break into flame when a spark falls on it. The young lady is
-      discreet; if she had spoken to any one of them and not to the others,
-      there would have been a flare-up. The touchy ones belong to my wife's
-      family. She was a Kensit, you know.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      He made this explanation behind his hand and in a whisper; he saw that his
-      wife and son had been in earnest consultation together over some vexed
-      question, and now they were hovering about, waiting to catch his eye.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I spoke too soon,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Something has gone astray, and the blame
-      will fall on me.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      They hovered still nearer, and when he caught his eye, Thomas, the
-      younger, stepped up to his father, saying something in his ear. Mrs.
-      Barlowe went on hovering a yard or two away.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That would never do,&rdquo; said her husband, evidently in reply to some
-      remonstrance offered by young Thomas. &ldquo;Never. The whole of the Kensits
-      would take offence.&rdquo; Then he turned again to Mrs. Burney, saying:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Mrs. Burney, madam, my son has just reminded me that I have been remiss
-      in doing my duty. It was left to me to present you to our relations at the
-      head of the room, but I failed to do so, my mind being too full of the
-      pretty curtsies of Miss. But I am ready to make amends now.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      But Mrs. Burney had observed a little twinkle in Fanny's eye; she had no
-      notion of going through the ordeal to which Fanny had been subjected,
-      though the spectacle would doubtless have diverted Fanny hugely.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Nay, sir,&rdquo; she said quickly to the waiting gentleman, &ldquo;Nay, sir; you have
-      forgotten that the presentation of a lady's daughter is equivalent to the
-      presentation of the lady herself.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What, is that so?&rdquo; said he.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Rest assured that it is,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;and an excellent rule it is. It
-      saves a repetition of a formality that is now frequently omitted in the
-      private houses of simple folk like ourselves. Lend me your arm, sir. I
-      shall soon make myself at home with Martha's relations.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      She did not give him a chance of discussing the point with her; she saw
-      that he was about to state his objections to the rule she had invented for
-      her own saving, and she was already in advance of him in approaching the
-      row of figures on the chairs against the wall. Fanny heard her greeting
-      them in turn without any formality, and once again Thomas, the younger,
-      was by her side.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      His mother was still hovering, glancing suspiciously, first at the young
-      couple, and then at the hasty proceedings of her friend, Mrs. Burney.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It was unlike father to make so grave an omission, Miss Burney,&rdquo; he said,
-      apologetically.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I hope that no harm will come of it,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;I am afraid that you
-      found us very homely folk at our little house when you did us the honour
-      of visiting us,&rdquo; she added.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      He waved his hand indulgently, smiling over her head.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I am always ready to take my place in such a circle,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;though
-      all the time I have a pretty full knowledge of the exchange of courtesies
-      which should mark the introduction of a stranger. Oh, yes, I do not mind
-      meeting some people as an equal, if they do not presume upon me
-      afterwards. Your brother has gone back to sea, I hear?&rdquo; he added.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, we shall not see him again for two years,&rdquo; she replied. &ldquo;Did he
-      presume upon you, sir? If so, I will take it upon me to offer you a humble
-      apology.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I was considering if it might be possible that he was himself mistaken in
-      regard to the ear-trumpet,&rdquo; said Thomas.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Sir Joshua's ear-trumpet? What of that?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Lieutenant Burney told me that it was a newly invented musical
-      instrument, blown by the ear instead of the mouth. It was not until I had
-      spoken of it to my father that I learned that the instrument was an
-      ear-trumpet used by the deaf. I had never seen one before. I wonder if
-      your brother intentionally deceived me.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;My brother is an officer in His Majesty's Fleet, sir.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What does that mean, miss?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It means that he would resent an accusation of falsehood, sir.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Pray do not misunderstand me; I would shrink from accusing him of any
-      conduct unworthy of an officer and a gentleman. But I was certainly
-      deceived in fancying that the ear-trumpet was a musical instrument.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Fanny made no reply. Her attention was directed to the entrance of two
-      servants, one bearing a large urn, the other a dish on which lay an
-      immense ham.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I hope you have an appetite, Miss Burney,&rdquo; said young Thomas. &ldquo;If so, you
-      will be able to stay it at that table, I'll warrant. Tea and cake may be
-      well enough for such as dine at four, but for us, who are three hours
-      earlier, something more substantial is needed. You will find that there is
-      no stint in this house.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Fanny had an idea that the young man meant to suggest that she would find
-      the tea-table at the Poultry to make a striking contrast to that of St.
-      Martin's Street; and she was not mistaken.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Neither was he. A greater contrast could scarcely be imagined. When Fanny
-      was formally conducted to a seat at the table by the side of young Mr.
-      Barlowe, she found herself confronting such a variety of eatables as was
-      absolutely bewildering. The first glance that she had at the dishes had a
-      stunning effect upon her. Her impression was one of repletion; she felt
-      that that glance was by itself equivalent to a hearty meal&mdash;a heavy
-      meal. She felt inclined to turn her head away.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But a moment afterwards she became alert. Here was food&mdash;ample food
-      for an amusing letter to Mr. Crisp, and, later, for a chapter in a
-      possible novel. She would let nothing escape her notice.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      She settled down to observe everything; and her stepmother, sitting
-      opposite to her, knew from the twinkle in her eyes, that Thomas's suit was
-      hopeless. She had heard that music is the food of love. She was not sure
-      of this; but she was convinced that butcher's meat was not. That was where
-      she saw that Thomas had made his mistake. He had placed too much
-      dependence upon that great ham. He carved that ham with all the solemnity
-      that should accompany such a rite, not knowing that he was slicing away
-      all his chances of commending himself to Fanny.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XXIII
-    </h2>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T was an
-      interesting experience for Miss Burney, the writer of novels and the
-      writer of letters. She had never sat down with such a company. They all
-      had their table peculiarities. One uncle took ale for his tea, and drained
-      a tankard before eating anything. The other claimed a particular cup on
-      account of its capacity, and he held it to his mouth with one hand, while
-      he passed a second down the table to Miss Burney, only spilling a spoonful
-      or two in effecting the transit. One of the aunts refused to eat anything
-      except cake, explaining, in order to relieve the anxiety of the company,
-      the details of an acute attack of spleen from which she had recently
-      suffered. The spleen and its humours formed the subject of a fitful
-      conversation at her end of the table.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But it was plain that everyone understood that the company had not come to
-      the table for conversation, but for food. They did not converse, but that
-      was not the same as saying the room was silent. There was a constant
-      clanging of cups, a constant clatter of platters, a loud and insistent
-      demand on the part of Thomas, the elder, and Thomas, the younger, for
-      their guests to say what they would like to eat. This was followed by the
-      handing of plates up and down the table, the sound of steel knives being
-      sharpened, and the jingle of spoons in saucers. The Alderman, who was, of
-      course, an authority on the etiquette of banquets, was formulating an
-      elaborate explanation of the mistake that had been made in the service of
-      the cold sirloin in advance of the venison pasty; and all the time his
-      neighbour was striking the haft of his knife upon the table with a request
-      for someone to pass him the pickles.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      All the ceremonial veneer had plainly left the company the moment they
-      seated themselves, and they addressed themselves to the business of
-      feeding. They had healthy appetites&mdash;even the lady who had had a
-      recent attack of the spleen. She would eat nothing but cake, but she did
-      eat cake with confidence. There was no sort of cake that she did not try,
-      and her cup was kept in constant circulation from the tea-maker to herself&mdash;four
-      times she had it refilled, Fanny could not help noticing, and she wondered
-      what effect such a diet would have upon her capricious spleen. Fanny had
-      an inward hint or two that she had observed quite enough of the party to
-      serve her purpose, and she began to count the moments until she might be
-      able to steal away without offending the susceptibilities of her
-      over-hospitable host and hostess. She hoped that her stepmother would
-      listen to her plea of weariness and take her back to St. Martin's Street&mdash;to
-      the music of St. Martin's Street&mdash;to the quiet of St. Martin's
-      Street.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The most solid hour of her life had, however, to elapse before her
-      fellow-guests pushed their plates (empty) away from them, and Mrs. Barlowe
-      said:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I am afraid you have made a poor tea, Miss Burney; but if you cannot be
-      persuaded to have a slice of ham&mdash;my son's ham, I call it, for 'tis
-      he who picks it out of the curer's stock whenever we have a party&mdash;if
-      you still refuse it, we might go to the drawing-room.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Fanny was on her feet in an instant. But not sooner than Alderman Kensit.
-      That gentleman, rapping with the haft of his knife on the table, stood
-      with a sheaf of notes in his hand and clearing his throat with great
-      deliberation, started upon a speech in eulogy of Mr. Barlowe's merits as a
-      host and as a merchant, and droned away for a good half-hour in praise of
-      the virtue of hospitality, his text being on the possibility of
-      entertaining angels unawares. Of course, it was only natural that, having
-      got upon this track and with the word &ldquo;angels&rdquo; in his mind, he should go
-      on to say that it was quite possible for a hospitably-inclined person to
-      entertain an angel and be fully cognizant of the fact, and so forth: in a
-      speech of well-worn platitudes such a suggestion seemed inevitable; and
-      all eyes were directed to poor Fanny when it seemed impending. It was a
-      great disappointment to everybody&mdash;except Fanny and her stepmother&mdash;when
-      the orator skipped the expected phrases, and went on to describe a
-      business visit which he had once made to Spain, apropos of nothing in
-      particular. His account of this feat was familiar to all his relations,
-      but they listened to him without a murmur, only wondering when he would
-      come to the angel and Miss Burney.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      He never came to the angel and Miss Burney, for it so happened that he had
-      turned over two pages of his notes when he should have only turned over
-      one. The omitted platitude was on the first, and he failed to notice the
-      absence of a platitudinal sequence in the heads of his discourse which he
-      had jotted down during the day.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      When he had seated himself, Mr. Barlowe, the elder, got upon his feet, but
-      he had no notes, and not being a member of the Common Council, he was not
-      a past-master of commonplaces. He was only dull for about five minutes
-      instead of half an hour. He had risen with a view to repair his relative's
-      omission of that obvious point about entertaining an angel by appointment
-      in the shape of Miss Burney, but he lost himself before he managed to
-      deliver it; it swam out of his ken with several other points the moment he
-      got upon his legs.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Fully recognizing how narrow was the escape she had had, Fanny was
-      resolved not to run any further chances. She was looking imploringly
-      toward Mrs. Burney, trying to catch that lady's eye, but without success,
-      and she was about to walk round the table to her side and to beg her to
-      come away, when Mrs. Barlowe moved up to her.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Miss Burney,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I am afraid you did not get anything you liked
-      at the table: I saw that you scarce ate more than a morsel of cake.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I assure you, madam, I had enough,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;Your cake was so tasty I
-      had no mind to go away from it in search of other delicacies.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I am glad you liked it. I made it with my own hands,&rdquo; said the hostess.
-      &ldquo;That cake was ever a favourite with Mr. Barlowe and my son. It pleases me
-      to know that you and my son have tastes in common. He is a good son, is
-      Thomas, though I say it that shouldn't; and he is making his way to the
-      front by treading in his father's footsteps. Mr. Barlowe is not a Common
-      Councilman, but his father, Thomas's grandfather, was for a year
-      Deputy-Master of the Wyre Drawers' Company&mdash;his certificate still
-      hangs on the wall of the drawing-room. You must see it. Thomas, you will
-      show Miss Burney your grandfather's certificate as Deputy-Master.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I should like very much to see it,&rdquo; said Fanny quickly, &ldquo;but I fear that
-      mamma will wish me to accompany her home at once. My sisters are alone
-      to-night and they will feel lonely: we promised to return early.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I will get Mrs. Burney's permission for you&mdash;so good an opportunity
-      should not be thrown away,&rdquo; said Mrs. Barlowe, giving the latter part of
-      her sentence an unmistakable inflection as she looked toward her son and
-      smiled.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      She had gone round the table before Fanny could think of another excuse
-      for evading the visit to the drawing-room in the company of Mr. Barlowe,
-      the younger.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And Mr. Barlowe, the younger, was still by her side.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Doesn't Uncle Kensit make a fine speech?&rdquo; he inquired. &ldquo;He is always
-      ready. I have heard it said that he speaks longer than any Alderman in the
-      Council.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I can quite believe it,&rdquo; replied Fanny.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Tis a wonderful gift,&rdquo; said he&mdash;&ldquo;to be always ready to say what one
-      is expected to say. Though I did think that when he referred to the angels
-      he meant to&mdash;to&mdash;go farther&mdash;I mean nearer-nearer home.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Thomas might himself have gone farther had his mother not returned at that
-      moment from her diplomatic errand.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I have prevailed upon Mrs. Burney to let you stay to see the
-      certificate,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;Thomas, you will conduct Miss Burney to the
-      drawing-room.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I am sure that mamma would wish to see the certificate also,&rdquo; said Fanny.
-      &ldquo;I will ask her.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;There is no need, Miss Burney: we shall all join you later,&rdquo; said Mrs.
-      Barlowe.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Poor Fanny saw that there was no use trying to evade the attentions of
-      Thomas, and as she walked toward the folding doors by his side she was
-      conscious of a silence in the room and of all eyes being turned upon her&mdash;smiles&mdash;such
-      knowing smiles&mdash;and a smirk from the young lady. Fanny was aware of
-      all, and what she was too short-sighted to see she was able to imagine.
-      She was burning at the thought of all those people gazing at her in
-      silence. It was the most trying moment of her life.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      She passed through the door which Thomas opened for her and closed behind
-      her.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I am glad to have this opportunity, Miss Burney,&rdquo; said he, when they were
-      alone in the big half-lighted room.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You must hold your grandfather's certificate in high esteem, sir,&rdquo; said
-      she. &ldquo;I suppose so high a place as he reached is but rarely attained by
-      mortals. You will have to guide me to the document: I have very poor
-      eyesight, as you must have noticed.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It is a great drawback,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;But we will not talk about
-      grandfather's certificate just yet, if you please: I have something to say
-      to you that will, I hope, interest you even more than that.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You surprise me, sir,&rdquo; said Fanny icily.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Nay, I hope that you know me well enough not to be surprised by all that
-      I have to reveal to you now that the opportunity has been given to me.
-      Have you no inkling of what I am about to say, Miss Burney?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Not the least, sir. I expected only to see that relic of your
-      grandfather's honourable career.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What, after meeting Uncle Kensit and Aunt Jelicoe, you do not feel
-      interested in their families?&rdquo; said he, in a tone of genuine surprise.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Fanny looked at him before she spoke, and there certainly was more than a
-      note of casual interest in her voice as she said:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Their families? Oh, I should like above all things to hear about their
-      families.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I knew that you would,&rdquo; said he, apparently much relieved. (She wondered
-      if the relief that she felt was as apparent as his.) &ldquo;Yes, I felt certain
-      that you would welcome this opportunity of learning something about the
-      Kensits and the Jelicoes. They are remarkable people, as you cannot have
-      failed to perceive.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      He made a pause&mdash;-a pause that somehow had an interrogative tendency.
-      She felt that he meant it to be filled up by her.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;They are remarkable people&mdash;very remarkable,&rdquo; said she.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;We are very fortunate in all our relations, Miss Burney,&rdquo; said he with
-      great solemnity. &ldquo;But, of course, Uncle Kensit stands high above them all
-      in force of character. A great man indeed is Alderman Kensit&mdash;a
-      member of the Haberdashers' and Grocers' Companies as well as the City
-      Council, and yet quite ready to meet ordinary persons as fellow-men. He
-      had heard the name of your friend, Sir Joshua Reynolds, though not the
-      name of Dr. Burney, and he was kind enough to say that he would have no
-      objection in the world to meet either of these gentlemen. That shows you
-      what sort of man he is&mdash;his fine, simple nature. 'If Dr. Burney or
-      Sir Joshua Reynolds were duly presented to me, I should feel it my duty to
-      be civil to him '&mdash;those were his exact words.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Once more there was an interrogative pause.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Perhaps they may be fortunate enough to meet him some day,&rdquo; was all Fanny
-      could trust herself to say.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I would not say so much to them&mdash;he is very busy just now,&rdquo; said
-      Thomas hastily. &ldquo;It would have to be arranged with care and thought&mdash;I
-      would not like them to be disappointed. But if it would please you, I
-      daresay a meeting could be brought about; meantime, I would not raise up
-      any false hopes on the matter, if I were you.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You may depend on my preserving the strictest secrecy, Mr. Barlowe,&rdquo; said
-      Fanny. &ldquo;I should think that I might even discipline myself to forget that
-      such a person as Alderman Kensit existed.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That would perhaps be the safest course to pursue,&rdquo; said he thoughtfully,
-      and with an air of prudence that made him for the moment the subject of a
-      description after Fanny's own heart. She felt that she could fool this
-      young man as easily as her brother had fooled him. Surely he was made to
-      be fooled, with his solemn airs and his incapacity to distinguish what is
-      worthy from what is pompous.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she continued, &ldquo;Dr. Burney has had it intimated to him since the
-      publication of his 'History' that the King was desirous of talking to him
-      at Windsor, and I know that Sir Joshua is being visited daily by the
-      Duchess of Devonshire and the Duchess of Ancaster, and it would be a great
-      pity if my father were forced to write excusing himself to His Majesty on
-      account of having to meet Alderman&mdash;Alderman&mdash;I protest that I
-      have already forgotten the gentleman's name&mdash;nay, do not tell it to
-      me; I might be tempted to boast of having met him, and if I did so in Sir
-      Joshua's presence, his beautiful Duchesses would be forlorn when they
-      found that he had hurried away on the chance of meeting the Alderman. And
-      now, sir, I think that I shall return to Mrs. Burney.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But I have not told you half of what I can tell about our family,&rdquo; he
-      cried. &ldquo;I have said nothing about my aunts&mdash;I have four aunts and
-      eleven cousins. You would surely like to hear of my cousins. They do not
-      all live in London. I have three as far away as Lewes; their name is
-      Johnson. My mother's youngest sister married a Johnson, as you may have
-      heard. I believe that some objection was raised to the match at first, but
-      it turned out quite satisfactory.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It is pleasant to know that; and so, sir, as we have come to this point,
-      don't you think that we had better adjourn our conference?&rdquo; said Fanny.
-      &ldquo;It would be doing the Johnson family a grave injustice were you to
-      attempt to describe their virtues within the time that is left to us, and
-      that would be the greatest catastrophe of all. Besides, I came hither all
-      unprepared for these revelations. If you had hinted at what was in store
-      for me I would, of course, have disciplined myself&mdash;forewarned is
-      forearmed, you know.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Miss Burney had received many a lesson from Mr. Garrick, from the days
-      when he had come to entertain her in the nursery, in the art of fooling,
-      and she was now quite capable of holding her own when she found herself in
-      the presence of so foolable a person as this egregious young man. But the
-      game was apt to become wearisome at the close of an evening when she had
-      suffered much, and when the subject of her raillery had shown himself to
-      be incapable even of suspecting her of practising on him.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But there is Aunt Jelicoe; I should like to tell you something of Aunt
-      Jelicoe,&rdquo; pleaded Thomas. &ldquo;Without any of the advantages of her parents,
-      Aunt Jelicoe&mdash;and&mdash;oh, I have something more to say to you&mdash;not
-      about them&mdash;about ourselves&mdash;you and me&mdash;I was nearly
-      forgetting&mdash;you will stay&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;One cannot remember everything, Mr. Barlowe,&rdquo; said Fanny, with her hand
-      on the knob of the door. &ldquo;You have done very well, I think, in remembering
-      so much as you have told me. As for ourselves&mdash;you have quite
-      convinced me of my own insignificance&mdash;and yours also, sir. You would
-      be doing us a grave injustice were you to speak of us so soon after your
-      estimable relations.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Perhaps you are right,&rdquo; said he, after a few moments of frowning thought.
-      &ldquo;Yes. I see now that it might have been wiser if I had begun with
-      ourselves and then&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Fanny had turned the handle. She re-entered the dining-room, and the
-      moment that she appeared silence fell upon the company, and once again she
-      was conscious of many eyes gazing at her and of horrid smiles and a smirk.
-      That was another ordeal for the shy little Miss Burney&mdash;it was an
-      evening of ordeals.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      She walked straight across the room to her stepmother.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I am ready to go away now,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;We have never stayed at any house
-      so long when we only came for tea. I am tired to death.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      She took care, of course, that Mrs. Burney only should hear her; and Mrs.
-      Burney, being well aware that Fanny was not one to complain unless with
-      ample cause, charitably interposed between her and Mrs. Barlowe, whom she
-      saw bearing down upon her from the other side of the room.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Fanny and I will say our good-night to you now, my dear Martha,&rdquo; she
-      said. &ldquo;You have treated us far too kindly. That must be our excuse for
-      staying so long. When people drop in to tea they do not, as a rule, stop
-      longer than an hour, as you know. But you overwhelmed us.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I was hoping&mdash;&rdquo; began Mrs. Barlowe, trying to get on to Fanny, but
-      by the adroitness of Mrs. Burney, not succeeding. &ldquo;I was hoping&mdash;you
-      know what I was hoping&mdash;we were all hoping&mdash;expecting&mdash;they
-      were in the drawing-room long enough.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Mrs. Burney gave her a confidential look, which she seemed to interpret
-      easily enough. She replied by a confidential nod&mdash;the nod of one who
-      understands a signal.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Mum it shall be, then,&rdquo; she whispered. &ldquo;Not a word will come from me,
-      simply good-night; but we could all have wished&mdash;never mind, Thomas
-      will tell us all.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Mrs. Burney allowed her to pass on to Fanny, having obtained her promise
-      not to bother the girl&mdash;that was how Mrs. Burney framed the promise
-      in her own mind&mdash;and Mrs. Barlowe kept faith with her, and even
-      persuaded Alderman Kensit, who was approaching them slowly with a sheaf of
-      notes in his hand, to defer their delivery in the form of a speech until
-      the young woman had gone.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And thus the visitors from St. Martin's Street were able to escape going
-      through the formality of taking leave of all the party. They shook hands
-      only with their host and hostess and their son, curtseying very politely
-      to the company of relations.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;They are warm-hearted people, but their weakness for ceremony and the
-      like is foolish enough,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney to Fanny, when they were safe
-      within the hackney carriage.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Fanny laughed.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, indeed, there is no harm in any of them,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;They may be a
-      little foolish in thinking that the Poultry is St. James's Palace or
-      Buckingham House. The only one among them who is an arrant fool is the
-      son. You saw how his mother made it up that he should lead me into the
-      other room?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It was maladroitly done indeed. What had he to say to you when he got you
-      there, I wonder?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;He had nothing to say to me except that his uncles were second in all the
-      virtues and all the talents to no man in town, and that his aunts and
-      cousins&mdash;but he did not get so far in his praise of his aunts and
-      cousins; I fled. Oh, did you see him cut slices off the ham?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Fanny laughed quite pleasantly, with a consciousness of having at her
-      command the material on which to found a scene that would set her sisters
-      shrieking.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, if Mr. Garrick had but seen him carve that ham!&rdquo; she cried.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I wish that Mr. Garrick would give all his attention to his own affairs
-      and leave us to manage ours in our own way,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What? Why, what had Mr. Garrick to do with our visit to&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;'Twas Mr. Garrick who continued his fooling of Mr. Kendal, sending him
-      all over the town trying to make matches. He believes that he is under a
-      debt of gratitude to Mr. Garrick and your father for the happiness he
-      enjoys with his bride.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And he suggested that a match might be made between someone in St.
-      Martins Street and someone in the Poultry? But how does Mr. Kendal come to
-      be acquainted with the Barlowes?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;His wife was a Johnson before she married her first husband, and the
-      Johnsons are closely connected with the Barlowes.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Young Mr. Barlowe was just coming to the family history of the Johnsons
-      when I interrupted him.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Was he coming to any other matter that concerned you more closely, think
-      you?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Fanny laughed again, only much longer this time than before. She had to
-      wipe her eyes before she could answer.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Dear mamma,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;you would laugh as heartily if you had seen him
-      when he suddenly recollected that in his eagerness to make me acquainted
-      with the glories of the Kensits and the abilities of the Johnsons, he had
-      neglected the object of his excursion to that room with my poor self,
-      until it was too late.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I doubt it,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;I do not laugh at incidents of that sort.
-      I lose patience when I hear of a young man neglecting his chances when
-      they are offered to him. But had he ever a chance with you, Fanny?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Not the remotest, dear mamma. If he had remembered to speak in time, and
-      if he had spoken with all the eloquence of his admirable uncle, the
-      Alderman, he would not have succeeded. If Thomas Barlowe were the last man
-      in the world I should e'en die an old maid.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That is a foolish thing for you to say. You may die an old maid for that.
-      But indeed when I saw young Mr. Barlowe in his home, I perceived that he
-      was not for you. I could not see you a member of that family, worthy
-      though they may be.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I think if a girl loves a young man with all her heart she will agree to
-      marry him, however worthy may be his family,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;But I am not
-      that girl, and young Mr. Barlowe is not that man.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I daresay that is how you feel,&rdquo; said the elder lady. &ldquo;But you must not
-      forget, Fanny, that you are no longer a girl; it is quite time that you
-      had a house of your own.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That is true, dear mamma, but for the present I am happy in living in
-      your house, and I ask for nothing better than to be allowed to stay in
-      your service.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That is all very well, but&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Ah, do not introduce that 'but'&mdash;life would be thoroughly happy if
-      it were not for its 'buts.' Here we are in Leicester Fields. I feel as if
-      I should like a roast apple for supper, to put a pleasant taste in my
-      mouth at the close of the longest day I can remember.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      They entered the parlour on the ground floor, and found Lottie and Susy
-      roasting apples on the hearth, while Dr. Burney sat in his chair reading.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I did not expect you back so soon,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney to her husband.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I did not mean to return for another hour,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;but Sir Joshua left
-      early and brought me with him in his coach. He cut his evening short in
-      order to get back to a book which he affirms is the best he has read since
-      Fielding.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It would have to be a good book to take the attention of Sir Joshua,&rdquo;
-       said Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;Did you hear what was its name?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It is called 'Evelina,' I believe,&rdquo; replied Dr. Burney.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;A novel, of course. I remember hearing the name some time ago,&rdquo; said his
-      wife. &ldquo;'Evelina'; yes, it has a familiar sound. I cannot recollect at this
-      moment who it was that mentioned it to me. I believe I told you of it at
-      the time, Fanny.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I do not remember your telling me that anyone had mentioned it to you;
-      but I am nearly sure that that was the name of the novel advertised in the
-      <i>Chronicle</i>&mdash;you read out all about it after breakfast one
-      morning,&rdquo; said Fanny.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You are quite right&mdash;that was how I got the name in my mind. Now you
-      can have your roasted apple, child. But if you are hungry you have only
-      yourself to thank for it. Don't bend so over the fire, Susy; your face is
-      frightfully fed&mdash;so, for that matter, is Lottie's. No, thanks, you
-      need not roast one for me.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XXIV
-    </h2>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>OME weeks had
-      passed since Cousin Edward had brought his exhilarating news that the book
-      was being asked for at the libraries, and during this interval, Fanny had
-      heard nothing of its progress. She had applied in the name of Mr. Grafton
-      for a copy to be addressed to the Orange Coffee House, but Mr. Lowndes had
-      paid no attention to her request, Edward found out on going to the Coffee
-      House, so it seemed plain to Fanny that the book was not making the stir
-      in the world that her cousin's report from the libraries had attributed to
-      it. But here was a distinct proof that it had at last reached their own
-      circle, and somehow Fanny and her sisters felt that this meant fame.
-      Somehow they had come to think of the readers of the book as being very
-      remote from them&mdash;people whom they were never likely to meet; they
-      had never thought of the possibility of its being named under their own
-      roof by anyone not in the secret of its authorship. But now the strange
-      thing had come to pass: it was not only named by their father, but named
-      with the most extraordinary recommendation that it could receive!
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      What! Sir Joshua was not only reading it, but he had curtailed his stay at
-      the club in order to get home to continue it! Sir Joshua had actually been
-      content to forsake the society of his brilliant friends, every one of them
-      more or less notable in the world, in order that he might read the story
-      which Fanny Burney had written all out of her own head!
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The idea was simply astounding to the girls and to Fanny herself as well.
-      It meant fame, they were assured, and they were right. It took such a hold
-      upon Susy and Lottie as prevented them from giving any attention to
-      Fanny's amusing account of the evening at the Barlowes'; and the fun she
-      made&mdash;modelled on Mr. Garrick's best nursery style&mdash;of the
-      Alderman and Mrs. Alderman, with the speeches of the one and the St.
-      Giles's curtsies of the other, went for quite as little as did her
-      imitation of the bobbing of the crown feathers of the aunts and the
-      rustling of their dresses, the material of which was too expensive to be
-      manageable: the thick silk was, Fanny said, like a valuable horse,
-      impatient of control. She showed how it stood round them in massive folds
-      when they curtsied, refusing to respond to the many kicks they dealt it to
-      keep it in its place.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      From the recalcitrant silks&mdash;with illustrations&mdash;Fanny had gone
-      to the slicing of the ham, the hacking at the great sirloin, the clatter
-      of the teacups, and the never-ending passing of plates and pickles, of
-      mustard and pepper and salt&mdash;the things were moving round the table
-      as the planets were shown circling round the sun in the clever invention
-      called the Orrery, after one of the titles of the Earl of Cork&mdash;only
-      the noise made by the perpetual handing on of the things did not suggest
-      the music of the spheres, Fanny said.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Her descriptions, bright though they were and full of apt metaphors, went
-      for nothing. Her sisters were too full of that wonderful thing which had
-      happened&mdash;the great Sir Joshua Reynolds, President of the Royal
-      Academy, the painter of all the most beautiful duchesses that were in the
-      world, to say nothing of beautiful ladies of less exalted rank&mdash;this
-      great man, who was so busy conferring immortality upon duchesses that he
-      was compelled to keep in his painting-room on Sundays as well as every
-      other day, and who had never been known to suspend his work except upon
-      the occasion of the death of his dear friend Dr. Goldsmith&mdash;this man
-      was actually at that very moment sitting in his arm-chair eagerly reading
-      the words which their sister Fanny had written!
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The thought was too wonderful for them. The effect that it had on them was
-      to make them feel that they had two sisters in Fanny, the one a pleasant,
-      homely, hem-stitching girl, who could dance the Nancy Dawson jig for them
-      and take off all the people whom she met and thought worth taking off; the
-      other a grave authoress, capable of writing books that great men forsook
-      the society of other great men to read!
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      They looked on her now with something of awe in their eyes, and it was
-      this lens of awe which, while magnifying her work as a writer where it
-      came into their focus, made them fail to appreciate her fun, for they saw
-      it, as it were, through the edges of the lens and not through the centre.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      She quickly perceived the lack of sympathy of her audience.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What is the matter with you both to-night?&rdquo; she cried&mdash;they were now
-      upstairs in her room, and she knew that at the same moment Mrs. Burney was
-      giving her husband an account of the party. &ldquo;What is the matter with you
-      both? Has anything happened when I was away to put you out? Why don't you
-      laugh as usual? I am sure I never told you anything half so funny as this,
-      and I was thinking all the way coming home that it would make you roar,
-      and now you sit gravely looking at me and not taking in half I say. Pray,
-      what is the matter?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Nothing is the matter, dear,&rdquo; said Lottie. &ldquo;Nothing&mdash;only I can't
-      help thinking that Sir Joshua is at this moment sitting eagerly reading
-      the book that you wrote&mdash;you, sister Fanny, that no one who comes to
-      us notices particularly. I can hardly bring myself to believe that there
-      is only one Fanny.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Fanny looked at her strangely for some moments, and then said:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I do not blame you, dear; for I am myself of the same way of thinking: I
-      cannot realize what the padre told us. I cannot think of myself as the
-      Fanny Burney whose book is keeping Sir Joshua out of his bed. That is why
-      I kept on harping like a fool on the single string of that odious party. I
-      feel that I must keep on talking, lest my poor brain should give way when
-      I sit down to think if I am really Fanny Burney, who was ever happiest
-      sitting unnoticed in a corner when people came to this house, or laughing
-      with you all up here. I cannot think how it would be possible for me to
-      write a book that could be read by such as Sir Joshua.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Better think nothing more about it,&rdquo; said Susy, who fancied she saw a
-      strange look in Fanny's eyes. &ldquo;What's the good of brooding over the
-      matter? There's nothing strange about Sir Joshua's reading the book: I
-      read it and I told you that it was so lovely everybody would want to read
-      it. Besides, Sir Joshua may only have mentioned it for want of a better
-      excuse to leave the club early; so you may not be so famous after all,
-      Fanny.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Susy's well-meant attempt to restore her threatened equilibrium was too
-      much for Fanny. But there was a considerable interval before her laughter
-      came. She put an arm about Susy, saying:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You have spoken the truth, my dear sister. I have no right to give myself
-      airs until we find out exactly how we stand. But if Fanny Burney, the
-      dunce, should find out to-morrow that Sir Joshua has not really been kept
-      out of his bed in order to read 'Evelina' by Fanny Burney, the writer, the
-      first Fanny will feel dreadfully mortified.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;One thing I can promise you,&rdquo; said Susy, &ldquo;and this is that Susannah
-      Burney will not be kept out of her bed any longer talking to Fanny Burney
-      about Fanny Burney's novel, whether Fanny Burney be mortified or not. We
-      shall know all about the matter when we go to the Reynolds's to-morrow. In
-      the meantime, I hope to have some hours of sleep, though I daresay that
-      Fanny Burney will lie awake as a proper authoress should do, thinking over
-      the exciting party in the Poultry and wondering how she will work in a
-      description of it in her next novel. Good-night, and pleasant dreams! Come
-      along, Lottie.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      And Fanny Burney did just what her sister had predicted she would do. She
-      recalled some of the incidents of the tea-party in the Poultry, having
-      before her, not as she had in the hackney coach, the possibility of
-      describing them in a letter to Mr. Crisp, but of introducing them into a
-      new book.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Before she slept she had made up her mind to begin a new book; for she now
-      found it comparatively easy to believe that Sir Joshua was reading
-      &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; with great interest. At any rate, she would hear the next day
-      when she should go to the Reynolds's, whether Sir Joshua had read it, or
-      whether he had only made it an excuse for getting home early in the night,
-      so that he might arise early and refreshed to resume his painting of the
-      duchesses.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But the next evening, when, with her sisters and their stepmother she
-      tripped along the hundred yards or so of Leicester Fields that lay between
-      their house and that of Sir Joshua Reynolds, all thoughts of the book
-      which she had written and of the book which she meant to write, vanished
-      the moment that she was close enough to Sir Joshua's to hear, with any
-      measure of clearness, the nature of the singing, the sound of which fell
-      gently upon her ears.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;H'sh!&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney, stopping a few feet from the door. &ldquo;H'sh! some
-      one is singing. I did not know that it was to be a musical party.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It is Signor Rauzzini,&rdquo; said Lottie. &ldquo;I would know his voice anywhere. We
-      are lucky. There is no one who can sing like Signor Rauzzini.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;We should have come earlier,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;But when Miss Reynolds
-      asked us she did not say a word about Rauzzini. And now we cannot ring the
-      bell, lest we should interrupt his song.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      She stood there with the three girls, under the lighted windows of the
-      house, listening to the silvery notes of the young Roman that floated over
-      their heads, as if an angel were hovering there, filling their ears with
-      celestial music. (The simile was Susy's.) The music sounded celestial to
-      the ears of at least another of the group besides Susy; and that one
-      thought:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;How can anyone trouble oneself with such insignificant matters as the
-      writing of books or the reading of books, when such a voice as that is
-      within hearing?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      And then, all at once, she was conscious of the merging of the two Fanny
-      Burneys into one, and of the existence of a new Fanny Burney altogether&mdash;the
-      Fanny Burney who was beloved by the celestial singer, and this was
-      certainly the most wonderful of the three.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The thought thrilled her, and she knew that with it the truth of life had
-      come to her: there was nothing worth anything in the world save only
-      loving and being loved.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And this truth remained with her when the song had come to an end, soaring
-      to a high note and dwelling on it for an enraptured space and then dying
-      away, so gradually that a listener scarcely knew when it had ceased.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Fanny's imagination enabled her to hear, at the close, the drawing-in of
-      the breath of the people in the room where the song had been sung: she
-      knew that up to this point they had been listening breathlessly to every
-      note. She could hear the same soft inspiration&mdash;it sounded like a
-      sigh&mdash;by her sisters and their stepmother. A dozen wayfarers through
-      Leicester Fields had been attracted to-the house by the sound of the
-      singing, and now stood timidly about the doorway. They also had been
-      breathless. One woman murmured &ldquo;Beautiful!&rdquo; Fanny could understand how the
-      word had sprung to her lips, but what could the man mean, who, almost at
-      the same moment, said:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, my God! how could I have been so great a fool?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      She was startled, and glanced at him. He was a young man, shabbily
-      dressed, and on his face there were signs of dissipation. He was
-      unconscious of her glance for some moments, then with a slight start he
-      seemed to recover himself. He took off his hat with a respectful bow, and
-      then hurried away. But Fanny saw him turn when he had gone about a dozen
-      yards into the roadway, and take off his hat once more, with his eyes
-      looking up to the lighted windows of the house. He was saluting the singer
-      whom he had not seen, and to Fanny the act, following the words which he
-      had unwittingly uttered, was infinitely pathetic.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It appeared that Mrs. Burney herself received the same impression. Fanny
-      was surprised to hear her say:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Poor fellow! he was once a gentleman!&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Then they entered Sir Joshua's house and were shown upstairs to the great
-      painting-room, where Sir Joshua and his sister Frances were receiving
-      their guests.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It was quite a small party&mdash;not more than a score of people
-      altogether, and all seemed to be acquainted with one another. Fanny knew
-      several of them; one girl, however, she had never seen before, but she
-      knew who she was in a moment. She was standing at one end of the room
-      chatting to Mrs. Sheridan, and on the wall just above her there hung the
-      picture of a girl in oriental costume and wearing a turban. Fanny Burney
-      had often looked at it in admiration, and Sir Joshua had encouraged her,
-      affirming that it was the best picture he had ever painted and that it
-      would remain in his painting-room until the day of his death. She looked
-      at it now with renewed interest, for the original was the girl standing
-      beneath it&mdash;the beautiful Miss Homeck whom Oliver Goldsmith had
-      called the Jessamy Bride. Several years had passed since Sir Joshua had
-      painted that portrait, from which Miss Burney had recognized the original;
-      and fifty years later another lady recognized the same face, still
-      beautiful in old age, from having seen merely a print of the same picture.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      When Fanny turned her eyes from the portrait it was to admire the features
-      of Mrs. Sheridan. Mrs. Sheridan was gazing somewhat pensively at the
-      picture of St. Cecilia which was hanging a little way from that of Miss
-      Horneck, and Fanny was near enough to her to perceive how her expression
-      grew into that of the face in the picture. At first sight, it did not
-      appear to Fanny that the two faces were the same, and it seemed as if Mrs.
-      Sheridan perceived this, and determined to vindicate Sir Joshua's skill by
-      assuming the pose of the picture. But Miss Burney knew that the beautiful
-      lady had done it unconsciously&mdash;that it was simply because she was
-      recalling the days when she had sat for the painter, and had obeyed his
-      injunction to lose herself among the simple chords of the aria that was
-      sacred to her since her sister died with the strain upon her lips&mdash;&ldquo;I
-      know that my Redeemer liveth.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Fanny gazed at the exquisite face, illuminated with what seemed to her to
-      be a divine light, and for the first time she knew something of what it
-      was to be a great painter. After &ldquo;St. Cecilia&rdquo; the other portraits on the
-      walls seemed paltry. There was no divine light in the faces of the
-      duchesses. There was life in them; they breathed and smiled and posed and
-      looked gracious, but looking at them one remained on earth and among
-      mortals. But St. Cecilia carried one into the glorious company of the
-      immortals. &ldquo;She drew an angel down,&rdquo; was the line that flashed through
-      Miss Burney's mind at that moment. An angel? A whole celestial company.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XXV
-    </h2>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">Y</span>OU are looking at
-      her&mdash;I, too, have been looking at her; she is divine,&rdquo; came a voice
-      beside her. She did not need to turn to see the speaker. She had been
-      longing for the sound of his voice for many days. She had not even a
-      chance of hearing him sing before this evening.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;She is St. Cecilia herself,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;You have seen Sir Joshua's
-      picture?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;My countryman, Piozzi, pointed it out to me,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;I was
-      enraptured with the picture. But when the living St. Cecilia entered the
-      room and I heard her story, I felt ready to throw myself at her feet and
-      implore her as the guardian of poor singers to take me to her care. Her
-      face has on it the bloom of a flower dropped fresh from the garden of God&mdash;angelic
-      beyond the voice of man to describe.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      He spoke, as usual, in French to Fanny, but he had greeted Mrs. Burney in
-      English, and he tried to translate his last phrase to her into the same
-      language. He failed after the first word or two, and begged Miss Burney to
-      complete his task for him. She did so, and her stepmother smiled and
-      nodded in appreciation of his comment.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;She is indeed a beautiful creature,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;I heard her sing
-      more than once at Bath. People went mad about her beauty and her singing,
-      and truly I never heard any singing that so affected me. It was said that
-      she hated to let her voice be heard in public. Her father, Mr. Linley,
-      made her sing: she was a gold mine to Mr. Linley and he knew it.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Signor Rauzzini had listened attentively and picked up all that she had
-      said without the aid of a word from Fanny.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But now she will never be heard again no more,&rdquo; said he in English. &ldquo;And
-      she is right in making such a resolution, and her husband is a noble man
-      to agree with her in this,&rdquo; he continued, but in French to Fanny. &ldquo;Picture
-      that lovely creature placing herself on the level of such a one as the
-      Agujari! sordid&mdash;vulgar&mdash;worldly! quarrelling daily with the <i>impresario</i>
-      on some miserable question of precedence&mdash;-holding out for the
-      largest salary&mdash;turning a gift which should be divine into gold! Oh;
-      she was right.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Signor Rauzzini no doubt thinks it a pity that such a voice should cease
-      to give pleasure to the thousands it enchanted,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney, not
-      being able to follow him in French.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, no, no; just the opposite,&rdquo; cried Fanny. &ldquo;He says he admires her the
-      more for her resolution.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I am so glad. Pray tell him that I agree with him,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;A
-      good woman will avoid publicity. Her home should be sufficient for her.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Fanny did not need to translate the words, he grasped their meaning at
-      once.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I agree with all of my heart, madame,&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;I would not wish my
-      mother or my sister to have their names spoken with freedom by everyone
-      who paid a coin to hear them sing. I should think it&mdash;<i>come si
-      chiamo?</i>&mdash;Ah! forgive my poor English.&rdquo; He went off into French
-      once more&mdash;&ldquo;Pray tell madame that I think it would be odious to hear
-      the name of my mother or my sister tossed from man to man as they toss the
-      name of a woman who comes before the public. I think the woman who would
-      hide herself from all eyes as a violet hides itself under a leaf is the
-      true woman. The shy, timid, retiring one&mdash;I know her&mdash;I esteem
-      her. I could love no other. I have a deep respect for the woman of the
-      Orient who would die sooner than let her face be seen by a man.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What does he say&mdash;I like his eagerness?&rdquo; asked Mrs. Burney.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Fanny translated some of his phrases, and Mrs. Burney nodded and smiled
-      her approval.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The bloom on the wing of a butterfly is a very tender thing,&rdquo; resumed the
-      Roman; &ldquo;the breath of a man is sufficient to remove it&mdash;a single
-      breath&mdash;and when the bloom has gone the charm of the beautiful
-      creature has gone also.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I am not sure that I like the comparison to the butterfly,&rdquo; said Fanny,
-      smiling. &ldquo;The butterfly is the emblem of all that is fickle&mdash;all that
-      is idle except for its yielding to its fickleness. It is beautiful, but
-      nothing else.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      He laughed.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I am rebuked,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;But with us the butterfly is the symbol of the
-      life&mdash;of the soul. Assume that and you will, I think, see that I
-      meant not to hint at the beauty of the frivolity, but at the beauty of the
-      soul. I feel that a woman's life has on it the bloom of a butterfly's
-      wing, and if that is once breathed on, its beauty is gone for ever&mdash;the
-      woman's life is never again what it was&mdash;what it was meant to be. But
-      if you wish, I will not go beyond the violet as my emblem of the best
-      woman&mdash;my woman.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I thank heaven that I have no voice,&rdquo; said Fanny gently, after a pause.
-      Young Mr. North-cote, Sir Joshua's pupil, had approached Mrs. Burney&mdash;his
-      eye was on Susy&mdash;in order to tell her that tea was being served in
-      the drawing-room.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Mrs. Burney thanked him and took the arm that he offered.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;We shall all go in together,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney, with a sign to Fanny.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But Rauzzini contrived to evade her eye by renewing his admiration of the
-      &ldquo;St. Cecilia.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;If I could but reproduce in song the effect that flows from her face I
-      should be the greatest singer in the world,&rdquo; said he.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You need not envy her,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;Do you remember Mr. Handel's setting
-      of 'Alexander's Feast '?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Only an aria or two.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;One of the lines came into my mind just now when I looked at that
-      picture. 'She drew an angel down.'&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And it was very apt. She would draw an angel down.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes; but the poet has another line before that one&mdash;it refers to a
-      singer&mdash;'He raised a mortal to the skies.' That was the line which
-      came to my mind when I heard you sing. You raise mortals to the skies.
-      Your power is equal to that of St. Cecilia.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Nay, nay; that is what you have done. I have been uplifted to the highest
-      heaven by you. When you are near me I cannot see anything of the world.
-      Why have we not met more frequently? Ah, I forget&mdash;I am always
-      forgetting that the months you spoke of have not yet run out. But I am not
-      impatient, knowing that the prize will come to me in good time. I have
-      been away at the Bath and Salisbury and Bristol and I know not where,
-      singing, singing, singing, and now I go to Paris and Lyon for a few
-      months, but you may be certain that I shall return to England&mdash;then
-      the separating months shall have passed and you will welcome me&mdash;is
-      not that so?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I think I can promise you&mdash;every day seems to make it more certain
-      that I shall welcome you.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;My angel&mdash;my dream!&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      He said the words&mdash;both long-drawn monosyllables in French&mdash;in a
-      whisper that gave them the full force of passionate expression. He had
-      need to whisper, for several people were in the room, and Mr. Boswell was
-      among the number, and everyone knew that Mr. Boswell, as a gossip-monger,
-      had no equal in town. He was always pimping and prying&mdash;nosing out
-      germs of scandal&mdash;ever ready to make mischief by telling people all
-      the nasty things other people had said of them. Mr. Boswell had his eye on
-      them&mdash;and his ear. In addition, Mrs. Thrale, who had arrived late,
-      had no idea of allowing the handsome Roman singer to waste himself with a
-      nonentity like Miss Burney, and she was now perilously close to him whom
-      she came to rescue.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But the whisper and the expression imparted to it were enough for Fanny
-      Burney. He might have talked for hours in his impassioned way without
-      achieving the effect of his whispered exclamations.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Then Mrs. Thrale hastened up to his side full of her resolution to rescue
-      him from the conversation with the insignificant person whom his good
-      nature suffered to engage his attention.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, what is this?&rdquo; cried the little lady who regarded herself with
-      complacency as the soul of tact. &ldquo;Have you explained to Signor Rauzzini
-      that you are the unmusical member of the family, Miss Burney?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I believe that he is aware of that fact already, madam,&rdquo; replied Fanny.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And yet he is in close converse with you? He is the most good-natured man
-      in town,&rdquo; said Mrs. Thrale. &ldquo;Does he hope to interest you when your father
-      failed?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;He has never ceased, to interest me, madam,&rdquo; said Fanny.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Then he did not talk about music?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, yes; I think he said something about music.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, touching a note here and there, as one might in passing a
-      harpsichord. Of course you could not have lived in Dr. Burney's house
-      without being able to understand something of music. But we must not
-      trespass upon Signor Rauzzin's courtesy, Miss Burney. Everyone is talking
-      of him in the drawing-room&mdash;he must gratify the company by mingling
-      with them.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Then she addressed Rauzzini in French.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I promised to go in search of you, signor,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Madame Reynolds is
-      distracted. I came on my mission famished&mdash;I had vowed, as the
-      crusaders did, not to taste food or drink until I had succeeded in my
-      emprise. May I ask you to have pity on me now and lead me to the
-      tea-table?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      He turned to ask Fanny to accompany them, but he found that she had
-      slipped quietly away. She was already at the door.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;My duty was to Miss Burney, madame, but she has been frightened away,&rdquo;
-       said he.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, she is the shy one of the family, I believe,&rdquo; said Mrs. Thrale. &ldquo;I am
-      sure that all the time you were so good-natured as to talk to her she was
-      wishing that the floor would open and allow her to sink out of sight. She
-      would have thought it much more good-natured on your part if you had taken
-      no notice of her. I have scarcely spoken to her half a dozen times myself,
-      though I have frequently been to her father's house. I cannot rack my
-      brain to discover a congenial topic with such young people. Were you
-      successful, do you think?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      He made a gesture with his hands that might mean anything. Mrs. Thrale
-      assumed that it meant nothing&mdash;that he felt he was not greatly
-      concerned whether he had been successful in finding a congenial topic of
-      converse with Miss Burney or not.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      She laughed.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Poor girl!&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;She may have her dreams like other girls.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I believe she has&mdash;poor girl!&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;But I know that in her
-      knowledge of music she goes deeper&mdash;soars higher than most young
-      ladies who have submitted to lessons from a <i>maestro</i>&mdash;nay,
-      higher than the <i>maestro</i> himself.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Mrs. Thrale looked doubtfully at him.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Is it possible that we are talking of two different people?&rdquo; said she.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Ah, that is quite possible,&rdquo; said he.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I was referring to Miss Burney, the one of the family who does nothing
-      except sew&mdash;her mother commends her sewing very highly. I fear that
-      you actually believed that you were in converse with one of her sisters.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Madame,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;it is my belief that the one who sews in a family is
-      far more interesting than the one who sings. But Miss Burney need not, in
-      my eyes, be any more than Miss Burney to be interesting, though she has
-      taught me more of music than I ever learned before.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Is't possible? Oh, yes: I should remember that her father told me that
-      she was his amanuensis&mdash;she made a neat copy of all his notes for the
-      'History of Music.' It is no wonder that she knows something about it.
-      Such a good daughter! And the father took no trouble about her education.
-      She did not know her letters till she was eight or nine, I believe&mdash;perhaps
-      twelve. I don't believe that I ever exchanged half a dozen words with her
-      before this evening; and as for men&mdash;you are the first man I ever saw
-      taking any notice of her.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      His face lit up strangely, Mrs. Thrale thought, at this revelation. He
-      gave a laugh.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;So much the better for her&mdash;so much the worse for the men,&rdquo; said he.
-      &ldquo;And now, madame, if the tea has not become too strong, and if your hunger
-      has not made you too weak to walk to the table, I should esteem it an
-      honour to conduct you thither.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Mrs. Thrale smiled her acquiescence, and she entered the drawing-room on
-      the arm of the singer. Nothing could have convinced her that he did not
-      feel grateful to her for rescuing him from the position in which his good
-      nature had placed him&mdash;by the side of the most insignificant young
-      woman among all Sir Joshua's guests.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      She believed that she was increasing his debt of gratitude to her by
-      keeping him with her for the next half-hour. Her sense of protecting him
-      gave her naturally a sense of patronage, which was quite pleasant for her
-      to experience, especially when she glanced round the room and saw several
-      ladies of higher rank than she could pretend to, frowning in her
-      direction. She knew how Signor Rauzzini was pestered by the attentions of
-      such as these, and she could almost hear the well-bred sneers of her
-      friends as they glanced at her and wondered if she never meant to release
-      the unfortunate young man&mdash;she knew just what they would say, and she
-      accepted their imaginary words as a real compliment to her protective
-      powers. Her smile down the table was one of great complacency.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      She also noticed that the insignificant Miss Burney was glowing as she had
-      never seen her glow before. Her face was rosy and her eyes were actually
-      sparkling. Mrs. Thrale had never imagined that such eyes as Miss Burney's
-      could sparkle, no matter what their provocation might be.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Poor girl! Poor child! Her head is turned, as I feared it would be when I
-      saw the Rauzzini with her. She is the unhappy victim of his good nature.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      This was the conclusion come to by the little lady whose ability to
-      pronounce an opinion on such a matter was widely acknowledged; and coming
-      to such a conclusion, she naturally commended all the more heartily the
-      step which she had taken for separating the foolish girl and the
-      fascinating young man.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      She would have waved aside any suggestion that might be made to her to the
-      effect that the increase in Miss Burney's colouring and the light in her
-      eyes was due to Miss Burney's overhearing the conversation between her
-      mother and Sir Joshua respecting a book which he had stayed up all night
-      to read and which he had just finished in time to receive his guests.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The name of the book was &ldquo;Evelina; or, a Young Lady's Entrance into the
-      World,&rdquo; he said, and he was urging Mrs. Burney to follow his example and
-      read it without further delay.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XXVI
-    </h2>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>ANNY was at her
-      stepmother's elbow while Sir Joshua gave her a full account of how he had
-      been induced to send to Lowndes for this wonderful book on the
-      recommendation of Mrs. Darner, whose portrait he was painting. Mrs. Darner
-      had excused her unpunctuality at one of her sittings on the ground that
-      she had become so interested in the fortunes of &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; that she could
-      not put the book down.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Get it for yourself, sir,&rdquo; she had said, &ldquo;and you will quickly
-      acknowledge that my excuse is valid.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Of course I did not get it then,&rdquo; said Sir Joshua. &ldquo;I find it impossible
-      to keep pace with the useful books that are printed in these days, and I
-      have long ago given up novels. But when, the next day, Mrs. Darner came to
-      sit to me with a woebegone countenance and the traces of tears on her
-      cheeks, so that I could only paint her draping, and that, too, had a
-      woeful droop in its folds&mdash;for let me tell you, madam, that a woman's
-      dress is usually in sympathy with the mood of the wearer&mdash;when, I
-      say, the lady entered my painting-room in this guise, I ventured to
-      inquire if she was serious in her wish that I should depict her in the
-      character of Niobe. 'Oh, sir,' she cried, ''tis all due to that horrid
-      Branghton&mdash;he it is that has brought me to this.' 'The wretch!' said
-      I. 'Have you no friend who will run him through the vitals? Where is he to
-      be found, that I may arrange for his destruction?' 'He is the persecutor
-      of my beloved Evelina,' she replied, 'and heaven only knows what is to
-      become of the poor girl.'
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Now, madam, when I had thus brought before me the effect that the book
-      had produced upon so natural a lady as Mrs. Darner, what was left for me
-      but to buy it? And now you see the effect that it has had upon me,&rdquo;
-       continued Sir Joshua, &ldquo;so you must e'en buy it also.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Nay, Sir Joshua,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney, &ldquo;your case has furnished me with the
-      strongest of reasons for not buying it. I would not allow a book into my
-      house that would so turn me aside from my ordinary life and my daily
-      business. What, sir, would you have me stay out of my comfortable bed for
-      hours, in order that I might make myself more uncomfortable still by
-      reading of the imaginary woes of a young woman who is nothing to me but a
-      shadow?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, I promise you that you will find Evelina far from being a shadow,&rdquo;
-       said Sir Joshua. &ldquo;She is a creature of flesh and blood, with a heart that
-      beats so that you find your own heart keeping time with it, whether it
-      pulsates slowly or fast. In short, Evelina lives. I have no patience with
-      those attenuated figures that dance on the stage of so many of our new
-      novel writers; I can see the stuffing of straw when their constant
-      gyrating has worked a rip in their seamy side; creatures of rag and wire&mdash;they
-      never deceive one for a moment&mdash;why, their very gyrations are not
-      true to life. But Evelina lives. Some of the characters in the book are
-      distasteful&mdash;some of them are vulgar, but the world is made up of
-      distasteful and vulgar people, and a novel should be true to the world in
-      which the characters are placed. Oh, that was where the greatness of poor
-      Dr. Goldsmith was to be found. He would abate nothing of the vulgarity of
-      the vulgar characters in his plays, because he meant them to live. The
-      people hissed his vulgar bailiffs in his <i>Good-Natured Man</i>, and when
-      Colman cut them out he himself restored them when Shuter played the piece
-      for his benefit the following year, and everyone saw that they were true
-      to life. The vulgarity of Tony Lumpkin and the Three Pigeons made Walpole
-      shudder, but there they remain in the best comedy of our time, and there
-      they will remain for ever. Oh, yes; the author of 'Evelina' knows what
-      life is, and so his book will live.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And who is the author of this surprising book?&rdquo; asked Mrs. Burney.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That is a mystery,&rdquo; replied Reynolds. &ldquo;I sent to Lowndes, the bookseller,
-      to inquire, and he pretended that he did not know. He could only say that
-      he was a gentleman of note living in Westminster.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Ah, that is one of the booksellers' tricks to make their wares seem more
-      attractive,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;They know that a man in a mask awakens curiosity.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That is so; but 'Evelina' stands in need of no advertisement of such a
-      nature. It would attract attention even though the name of Mr. Kenrick
-      were attached to it. But everyone is dying to find out the name of the
-      author; Mrs. Darner believes it to have been written by Horace Walpole,
-      but only because 'The Castle of Otranto' was published without his name
-      being on the title page.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Not a very cogent line of argument, it seems to me,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney.
-      &ldquo;Well, Sir Joshua, I hope you will enjoy a comfortable sleep to-night, now
-      that you have the fortunes of that young lady off your mind.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, my dear madam, I do assure you that my mind is not yet free from the
-      effects of reading that book,&rdquo; cried Reynolds. &ldquo;I am more faithful to my
-      friends in some books than to forget all about them when I lay them on the
-      shelf. If they live, be assured that I live with them, and the thought of
-      them is to me at times as pleasant as the thought of the best friends I
-      have met in my daily life. I have laid 'Evelina' on a shelf in my memory&mdash;not
-      one of the back shelves, but one that is near to me, so that I can console
-      myself with her companionship when I am lonely.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I have never heard you praise a book so heartily, sir,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney.
-      &ldquo;But I will beg of you not to mention it to any of my family, for if it
-      has so unhinged you, what would it not do to those poor girls?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      He did not catch all she had said, for she spoke in a voice which she did
-      not mean to travel to Fanny or Susy, who were chatting to Miss Theophila
-      Palmer, Sir Joshua's niece.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You may depend on my telling them all I find out in regard to the
-      author,&rdquo; said he in a tone of assent.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, no,&rdquo; she cried, getting nearer to the bell of his trumpet. &ldquo;No, no; I
-      want you to refrain from mentioning the book to them. I discourage all
-      novel reading, excepting, of course, the works of Mr. Richardson, and
-      perhaps one or two of Fielding, with some of the pages gummed together to
-      prevent them from being read.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Nay, to tempt people to read them,&rdquo; said Reynolds. &ldquo;What were we saying
-      about the attractions of a mask? Well, my word for it, the attractions of
-      a book without a name are as nothing compared with the attraction of
-      gummed pages. But you will let them read 'Evelina,' and you will,
-      moreover, read it yourself&mdash;yes, and you will all be the better and
-      not the worse for doing so.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Mrs. Burney shook her head.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It was no wonder that Mrs. Thrale thought that Miss Burney looked flushed
-      at this time, or that there was an unwonted sparkle in her eyes; for she
-      had heard nearly every word that Sir Joshua had said, and she could
-      scarcely contain herself for delight. For all her primness, she was at
-      heart a merry schoolgirl, ready to break into a dance at good news, and to
-      shout for joy when things had advanced as she had hoped they would. She
-      felt that it was very hard on her that she could not throw her hat up to
-      the ceiling of the room, as she had heard of Dr. Goldsmith's doing with
-      his wig in the exuberance of his spirits in this same room&mdash;when Miss
-      Reynolds was in her bed upstairs. It was very hard on her to be compelled
-      to restrain her feelings; she was unconscious of the sparkle in her eyes,
-      or of the pæony flush of her cheeks that Mrs. Thrale had noticed and was
-      still noticing.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      She had never felt so happy in all her life. A short time before she had
-      felt that everything in the world was insignificant in comparison with
-      love; but now she realized that there was another joy worthy of
-      recognition. She was not wise enough to perceive that the two emotions
-      sprang from the same source&mdash;that the foundation of love is the
-      impulse to create, and that the foundation of an artist's joy in fame is
-      the knowledge that what he has created is recognized by the world. She was
-      (fortunately) not wise enough to be able to analyse her feelings&mdash;to
-      be wise enough to analyse one's feelings is to be incapable of feeling.
-      All that she was conscious of at that moment was that all worth having in
-      the world was hers&mdash;the instinct to create, which men call Love, the
-      joy of obtaining recognition for the thing created, which men call Fame.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It was no wonder that Mrs. Thrale saw that light in her face and in her
-      eyes; nor was it strange that the same observant lady should attribute
-      that illumination to the touch of the fire of the sacred torch. She looked
-      at the handsome face of the Roman youth, with its expression of frankness,
-      and at his eyes, full of the generous warmth of the South, and once more
-      she glanced at Miss Burney, and saw in her face the reflection of the
-      southern sunny glow.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Poor girl&mdash;poor girl!&rdquo; were the words that sprung to her lips. &ldquo;Only
-      a moment's attention from him&mdash;only a word&mdash;nay, a glance from
-      those eyes would have been enough&mdash;and she is at his feet. Poor girl!
-      Knowing nothing of the world&mdash;incapable of understanding anything of
-      life&mdash;having no gift to attract attention&mdash;-&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Dear Mrs. Thrale, I have come to you for help. You are sure to have read
-      this book that everyone is talking about&mdash;this 'Evelina'&mdash;and
-      you can, I am certain, tell us who is the author. Pray let us know if your
-      friend Dr. Johnson had a finger in it&mdash;I have heard that some of the
-      writing is in the style of Dr. Johnson&mdash;or was it Mr. Anstey&mdash;they
-      say that some chapters could only have come from the author of 'The Bath
-      Guide.'&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      It was Lady Hales who had hurried up with her inquiries. She seemed to be
-      the representative of a group with whom she had been standing, several
-      ladies and two or three men.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It so happened, however, that Mrs. Thrale had not yet read the book around
-      which discussion had been buzzing; but she had no intention of
-      acknowledging that, with her literary tastes and with her friendship for
-      Dr. Johnson, she was behind the times. Two or three people had within the
-      week made remarks about &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; in her presence, but she had no idea
-      that it was to become a topic of society.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      She smiled enigmatically, to give herself time to make up her mind what
-      her reply should be&mdash;whatever it might be, it certainly would not be
-      a confession of ignorance. She came to the conclusion that on the whole
-      she could not do better than mould her answer so as to heighten the
-      mystery of the authorship.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Is it possible that none of our friends have discovered the author?&rdquo; she
-      asked, still smiling shrewdly, so as to suggest that she herself had long
-      ago been let into the secret.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;We have had many conjectures,&rdquo; said Lady Hales. &ldquo;And let me whisper in
-      your ear&mdash;there is one among us who is ready to affirm that the
-      address of the author is Thrale Hall, Streatham.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I vow that I am overwhelmed,&rdquo; cried the little lady. &ldquo;The compliment is
-      one that any writer might envy. Pray how could it enter the mind of any of
-      our friends to connect me with the authorship of such a book?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;There are some touches of your style in many of the letters of Evelina,&rdquo;
-       replied Lady Hales. &ldquo;And some have said that only you could have had the
-      varied experiences described so vividly.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;A marvellous book, truly, this 'Evelina,'&rdquo; cried Mrs. Thrale. &ldquo;Some
-      people, you say, recognize the hand of Dr. Johnson in its pages, others
-      the pen that wrote 'The Bath Guide,' and now it is suggested that the
-      whole was the work of a humble scribbler named Mrs. Thrale&mdash;a person
-      who has surely little in common with the two writers you have named.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      She took care that her affectation of surprise had an artificial note
-      about it. There was no knowing how things might turn out. Mrs. Thrale had
-      no objection in the world to have her name associated with the authorship
-      of a book about which it was clear a good many people would be talking for
-      some months to come.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;May I not be entrusted with something more definite?&rdquo; asked Lady Hales in
-      a low voice. &ldquo;If it is a secret for the present&mdash;well, you know that
-      I am one to be trusted.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I can assure you definitely that the book was not written by Dr.
-      Johnson,&rdquo; replied Mrs. Thrale, with a smile. &ldquo;He has not for a single week
-      during the past year failed to visit us at Streatham for at least four
-      days at a time. He reads to me all that he writes&mdash;it is not much&mdash;and
-      I can give you an assurance that the name of Evelina has not once appeared
-      in his manuscript. I may also say that if you take my advice you will not
-      be in too great haste to attribute the book to Mr. Anstey.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      This was not mystification, it sounded much more like revelation, Lady
-      Hales thought.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I dare not press you further, madam,&rdquo; she said.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Believe me, I can appreciate your reticence, if&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Nay, now you suggest that I have told you a secret that I have concealed
-      from everyone else, and that is going too far,&rdquo; cried Mrs. Thrale. &ldquo;Now,
-      dear madam, cannot you see that even if I were in the secret of the
-      authorship, I should be guilty of a great breach of courtesy were I to
-      reveal it to anyone? If an author choose to remain anonymous, is it not
-      discourteous to try to snatch away his&mdash;or her&mdash;veil of
-      anonymity?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I can but assent,&rdquo; said Lady Hales. &ldquo;I do not doubt that this view of the
-      matter is the correct one. At any rate, you may depend on my acting in
-      accordance with it. I shall make no further attempt to pry into the
-      secret, and I shall think it right to dissuade my friends from the quest.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;In that I am sure you will be acting in accordance with the author's
-      wishes,&rdquo; said Mrs. Thrale, smiling knowingly.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XXVII
-    </h2>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>O they parted; and
-      Lady Hales hastened back to her friends to whisper in their ears that the
-      mystery was as good as solved: Mrs. Thrale had as much as acknowledged
-      that she was the author of &ldquo;Evelina,&rdquo; but she hoped that, as she had
-      written the book without the knowledge of her husband, her friends would
-      respect her desire to remain anonymous.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Mr. Thrale, being a Member of Parliament, would not like to have the name
-      of his wife bandied about among ordinary people as that of the writer of a
-      novel,&rdquo; Lady Hales explained, though really no explanation was needed of a
-      fact that could be appreciated by every sensible person aware of the
-      contemptible character of the novels of the day. &ldquo;Only Dr. Johnson is in
-      the secret,&rdquo; she continued. &ldquo;Dr. Johnson, as we all know, lives at Thrale
-      Hall for five days out of every week, finding the table provided by Mrs.
-      Thrale to suit his palate very much better than that controlled by poor
-      blind Mrs. Williams at Bolt Court.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That may account for some of the touches in the book in the style of Dr.
-      Johnson,&rdquo; said one of the ladies. &ldquo;You may be sure that no book could be
-      written under the same roof as Dr. Johnson without his having something to
-      say to it.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I never could understand how so fastidious a lady as Mrs. Thrale could
-      tolerate the company of Dr. Johnson at her table, but now the secret is
-      out&mdash;this secret and t'other,&rdquo; said one of the gentlemen. &ldquo;Dr.
-      Johnson is not seen at his best at the dinner-table.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;So far as that goes, neither is Mr. Thrale himself,&rdquo; said another. &ldquo;He
-      has a huge appetite.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I had an inkling all along that Mrs. Thrale wrote the book,&rdquo; said a lady
-      with a huge hat. &ldquo;I actually remarked to my sister, while I was reading
-      it, 'if this story is not written by Mrs. Thrale, Mrs. Thrale is the one
-      who would like to have written it.'&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But mind, not a word must be breathed that would hint that she
-      acknowledged it to me by direct word of mouth,&rdquo; cried Lady Hales,
-      beginning to have some qualms. &ldquo;No; you must understand clearly that she
-      did not say in so many words that she wrote it. Indeed, her last words to
-      me were, that anyone who should name in public the author of a book
-      published anonymously would be guilty of a great discourtesy.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;She is perfectly right: to do so would be to exhibit very bad taste
-      truly,&rdquo; came more than one acquiescent voice.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And the result of their complete agreement on this point was the immediate
-      dissemination of the report that Mrs. Thrale was indeed the writer of
-      &ldquo;Evelina.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      But that clever little lady, on getting rid of the questioner, found that
-      Signor Rauzzini had slipped away from her side and was now making his
-      adieux to Mrs. Burney and her stepdaughters. She noticed that the light
-      had gone out of Fanny Burney's eyes as the young singer bent over her
-      hand, and once again she shook her head. She had given more attention to
-      Miss Burney during the previous hour than during all the years she had
-      visited at St. Martin's Street. She thought that it might be her duty to
-      say a word of warning to the young woman, who could not possibly know
-      anything about the world or the deceitfulness of Italian vocalists.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Meantime, however, she ordered one of her three footmen to tell the
-      coachman to drive to the shop of Lowndes, the bookseller, and there she
-      purchased a bound copy of &ldquo;Evelina,&rdquo; at nine shillings.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Mrs. Thrale was, of course, well known to Mr. Lowndes, and seeing her,
-      through the window of his office, enter his shop, he put his quill behind
-      his ear and emerged, bowing and smiling.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;How was it that you failed to apprise me that you had printed 'Evelina
-      '?&rdquo; she inquired.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Is't possible that you did not receive my advertisement, madam?&rdquo; he
-      cried. &ldquo;Why, I posted it to you with my own hands even before the book had
-      left the press, the truth being that I was anxious to get your opinion
-      respecting it.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I never had any advertisement from you about it,&rdquo; she replied.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, I was to blame for not underlining the announcement, madam,&rdquo; said he.
-      &ldquo;I ask your pardon. How were you to know that it was not one of the usual
-      novels of the season?&mdash;I do not venture to recommend such to the
-      attention of ladies of superior tastes like yourself, madam. I shall not
-      forgive myself, rest assured. But I am punished, in that I have been
-      unable to sell a second edition by telling my customers how highly it was
-      esteemed by Mrs. Thrale.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You assume that it would be highly esteemed by me, Mr. Lowndes; but I am
-      not quite sure that you do not flatter yourself in believing that my
-      judgment would be the same as that of the public. The poor public! How can
-      they possibly know whether a book is good or bad?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;They cannot, madam; that is why we poor booksellers must only trust to
-      sell our books on the recommendation of ladies of taste and judgment. May
-      I beg, madam, that you will favour me with your opinion respecting the
-      merits of 'Evelina'?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It has been so great a success that I fear I shall not think highly of
-      it. Pray, who is your modest author?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Positively, madam, I am unable to tell you. The MS. was brought to me
-      with a letter purporting to come from a Mr. Grafton at the Orange Coffee
-      House, near the Haymarket, and he desired the secret of its authorship to
-      be kept close.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Ah, yes; to be sure&mdash;kept close from the vulgar public; but he could
-      never think that you were violating his confidence by telling me his
-      name.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;He could not be so unreasonable, madam&mdash;nay, rather would he kneel
-      to you&mdash;for he could scarce fail to understand the value that we set
-      on&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I am not convinced either that he would benefit from the exchange of
-      confidence or that I should; but prithee, sir, what is his name?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;'Fore heaven, madam, I have told you so much as is known by me respecting
-      the gentleman. Never before have I been placed in so remarkable a
-      position. My fault, Mrs. Thrale, no doubt: I should have taken precautions
-      against being thus surprised into publishing a book without knowing the
-      name of the author. But although my judgment enabled me to perceive that
-      the work was out of the common, yet I never counted on its merits being
-      recognized so speedily. May I beg of you to favour me with your opinion as
-      to who the writer may be, madam&mdash;that is, when you have read it,
-      unless, indeed&mdash;&rdquo; he glanced at her shrewdly with a little knowing
-      smile&mdash; &ldquo;unless, indeed, you could so favour me <i>instanter</i>.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Nay, Mr. Lowndes, how would it be possible for me to give you an opinion
-      as to the authorship of a book which I have not yet read? I am not one of
-      those astute critics who, they say, can tell you all there is to be known
-      about a book without cutting the leaves, or even&mdash;if you slip a
-      guinea into their hand&mdash;without opening the covers.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I thought that perhaps you might be one of those who have been let into
-      the secret, madam. I trust that Dr. Johnson's health has not been so bad
-      as to prevent him from doing any literary work. Ah, what does not that
-      great man&mdash;nay, what does not the world owe to you, Mrs. Thrale?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;If you would suggest, Mr. Lowndes, that the book about which we have been
-      conversing was written, even in part, by Dr. Johnson, I can give you an
-      assurance that such is not the case. He is in no way inclined to engage in
-      any form of literary labour. He grudges his friends even a note.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;There are some gentlemen who come hither and honour me by conversing on
-      the subject of letters, and more than one of them has pointed out passages
-      in 'Evelina' that show signs of the great Doctor's pen; but for that
-      matter&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I agree with you, sir; every scribbler in Grub Street apes the style of
-      Dr. Johnson, but only to reveal the ape in himself. Now, Mr. Lowndes, if
-      you really are in earnest in saying that you are unaware who is the author
-      of your book, I have done you some service in curtailing by one the list
-      of authors to whom it might possibly be attributed. You may strike out the
-      name of Johnson, sir, on my authority.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I shall certainly do so, madam&mdash;not that I, for my own part, was
-      ever foolish enough to fancy that he had written more of it than a page or
-      two. I am indebted to you, Mrs. Thrale.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Then if you would wish to pay off the debt, you can do so by informing me
-      of your success in discovering the writer. 'Tis quite impossible to
-      conceive of the man's remaining unrevealed for any length of time, and I
-      confess that I am anxious to know if he is among my acquaintance.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You assume the sex, madam.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What, have you a doubt of it?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;There are so many literary ladies nowadays, Mrs. Thrale.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But you surely saw the handwriting of the script?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That is just the point. My printers have examined it and say that it is a
-      lady's caligraphy only disguised to look like a man's. In my own judgment
-      they are right. It is an upright hand, neat and clear&mdash;not in the
-      least like that of an author. Still, that counts but little, seeing that
-      the writer of the book would be pretty certain to have a clear copy made
-      of his script by someone else. I have had a suspicion, from the mystery
-      insisted on by this Mr. Grafton, that he is none other than the author of
-      the 'Castle of Otranto.'&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What, Mr. Walpole?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Even so. You recollect how delighted he was to conceal the hand he had in
-      that book&mdash;going much farther than I thought any gentleman would in
-      honour go, to make people believe it was what it pretended to be?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Mr. Lowndes, I know not what your experience has been; but mine is that
-      when a gentleman becomes an author he lays aside whatever sense of honour
-      he possesses as a gentleman.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I have had little to do with gentlemen authors, madam. Most of my writers
-      are simply authors.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And Mr. Walpole very properly put himself in line with them, and so had
-      no hesitation in carrying out his fraud in 'Otranto.' Well, if it be so,
-      you may count on his revealing himself now that the book has become a
-      success. In any case, you will not forget to keep me informed, and I shall
-      esteem it a favour, Mr. Lowndes.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Mr. Lowndes renewed his promise and bowed the lady to the door. The three
-      volumes of &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; had been brought out to the chariot by one of the
-      footmen, a second following in his footsteps to see that he deposited them
-      fairly upon one of the cushions, and a third standing by the open door in
-      case of the breakdown of either of the others.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Mrs. Thrale got into the splendid machine, the three lackeys swung
-      themselves up on their platform behind, and clung on to the heavy straps,
-      looking, in their brilliant livery, as the chariot lurched away over the
-      uneven cobble-stones, like mighty butterflies of a tropical forest swaying
-      together on the rim of a gigantic flower.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XXVIII
-    </h2>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>O chance had
-      Rauzzini of saying more than the most conventional words of farewell to
-      Fanny. Mrs. Burney was beside her and her two sisters also. He yielded to
-      his impulse to pronounce a malediction on Mrs. Thrale, who had so
-      interrupted his conversation with Fanny&mdash;the last he could possibly
-      have until his return from France after fulfilling his engagements. But
-      this was when he had seen the Burney family out of the door of the house
-      in Leicester Fields and to the entrance to St. Martin's Street. He was
-      then alone, and could give in some measure expression to his feelings in
-      his own tongue.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      His imagination was quite vivid enough to suggest to him all that the
-      officiousness of Mrs. Thrale had interrupted&mdash;the exchange of vows&mdash;the
-      whispered assurances of fidelity&mdash;perhaps a passionate kiss&mdash;a
-      heaven-sent chance during a marvellous minute when the painting-room
-      should be emptied of all but herself and him! It was distracting to think
-      of all that had been cut out of his life by that busybody. While he had
-      been talking alone with Fanny his eyes had taken in the splendid
-      possibilities of the painting-room. There were three immense easels on
-      different parts of the floor, and each carried a glorious canvas for a
-      life-size portrait. Two of them were already finished, and the third
-      contained a portion of the Greek altar at which a fair lady was to be
-      depicted making her oblation to Aphrodite, or perhaps Artemis. The young
-      man, however, did not give a thought to the glowing work of the great
-      painter on the canvases, he thought only of the possibilities of a moment
-      or two spent in the protecting shadow of one of them with that gentle,
-      loving girl yielding herself to his clasp&mdash;only for a moment&mdash;he
-      could not reasonably hope that it should be for longer than a single
-      moment, but what raptures might not be embraced even within that brief
-      space! A moment&mdash;one immortal moment worth years of life! That was
-      what he saw awaiting him in the friendly shade of one of Sir Joshua's
-      portraits&mdash;that was all that the sublime picture meant to the ardent
-      lover&mdash;it was not the immortal picture, but the immortal moment that
-      was before his eyes&mdash;but just when, by a little manoeuvring on his
-      part, the joy that should change all his life and console him for being
-      deprived of the society of his beloved for three months, was within his
-      reach, that foolish woman had come bustling up with her chatter and had
-      separated them!
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      For which he now implored heaven and a heathen deity or two that still
-      linger in the language of malediction in their native Italy, to send her
-      soul to the region where Orpheus had sought his Eurydice. Down&mdash;down
-      with her to the lowest depths of the Inferno he implored his patrons to
-      bear her and to keep her there for ever.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      His imploration was quite as lyrical as his &ldquo;Waft her, Angels, to the
-      Skies,&rdquo; only its bearing was upon the fate of the lady in just the
-      opposite direction, and he was even more fervent in its delivery. But
-      having delivered it, he felt some of that relief which is experienced by a
-      true artist who has a consciousness of having done some measure of justice
-      to his theme. He felt that if beatitude had been denied to him, the one
-      who had separated him from it would not escape scathless, if the intensity
-      of an appeal to the high gods of his native land counted for anything in
-      their estimation.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And then he went more or less contentedly to his lodgings to prepare for
-      his appearance in the opera of the night.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      He sang divinely as an angel, and again if any of his audience remained
-      unmoved by the enchantment of his voice, they certainly could not but have
-      yielded to the charm of his presence. Some women might be incapable of
-      appreciating the exquisite character of his vocalism, but none could
-      remain impervious to the appeal of his smile.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      As for the girl who alone had appealed to his heart, she went home with
-      her mother and sisters without a word, for she had not perceived the
-      glorious possibilities lurking behind the grand canvases in Sir Joshua's
-      painting-room. She could even bring herself to believe that the coming of
-      Mrs. Thrale had been rather opportune than otherwise; for if she had not
-      joined her stepmother at that time she would not have heard all that Sir
-      Joshua had said about &ldquo;Evelina.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      All that she had heard had made her supremely happy, not, she thought,
-      because she was greedy for fame, but because it meant to her that she was
-      a step nearer to the arms of the man she loved. The fame which Sir
-      Joshua's words implied was dear to her because she knew that she need not
-      now hesitate to seat herself by the side of this king of men, as his equal&mdash;no,
-      not quite as his equal, but certainly not as a beggar maid. She knew that
-      when it was announced that she was the writer of a great book, or, what
-      was better still, a book that everybody was talking about, people would
-      not shrug their shoulders when they heard that Rauzzini> the Roman singer,
-      whose name was in everybody's mouth, was about to marry her. The event
-      that she scarcely dared hope for had actually happened: she was no longer
-      the nobody which she had been, she was a woman the product of whose brain
-      had been acclaimed by the best judges, and so the barrier that she had
-      seen separating her lover from herself had been thrown down. The same
-      voices that had acclaimed her Rauzzini as a singer had acclaimed her as a
-      writer; for though she had hesitated to receive her cousin Edward's
-      reports from the libraries as conclusive of the mark that the book was
-      making, she could not now have any doubt on the subject: a book that was
-      spoken of by Sir Joshua Reynolds as he had spoken of &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; must be
-      granted a place high above the usual volumes to be found on the shelves of
-      a circulating library. She was convinced that in a short time everyone
-      would be talking about it in the same strain, and though people might be
-      incredible on the subject of its authorship, the fact would remain the
-      same&mdash;she had written the book, and the fame that attached to the
-      writer would assuredly be hers. There would now be no sneering references
-      to King Cophetua. Everyone within their circle would admit that there was
-      no disparity between her position as the writer of the book that everyone
-      was talking about and that of the singer whom people crowded to hear.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      She felt supremely happy. Though Mrs. Burney had not shown any particular
-      wish to repeat what Reynolds had said to her about the book, she knew
-      perfectly well that this was only because of her general distrust of
-      anything in the form of a novel, and her fear lest something unreadable
-      should get into the hands of the girls. But Fanny also knew that the fact
-      of Mrs. Burney's shunning the novels of the circulating libraries would
-      not interfere with the reputation that must accrue to the author of
-      &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo;; so she was not affected by the indifference shown by her
-      stepmother to all that Reynolds had said. She awaited without impatience
-      the day when her father should take up the book and read the Ode at the
-      beginning. She felt that, although his name was not at the head, he would
-      know that the verses were addressed to him, and that it was his daughter
-      Fanny who had written them. She knew that however firmly he might assert
-      himself on the side of his wife in preventing the entrance to the house of
-      all novels excepting those of Richardson&mdash;Fanny herself had never had
-      a chance of reading even &ldquo;The Vicar of Wakefield&rdquo;&mdash;he would be proud
-      of her as the writer of &ldquo;Evelina.&rdquo; She was not quite sure if he would be
-      as proud of her as if she had developed a wonderful musical capacity; but
-      she never doubted that his affection for her&mdash;assisted by his
-      knowledge of the impression the book had made upon the most important of
-      his own associates&mdash;would cause him to take her into his arms with
-      delight and to forgive her for running the chance of being classed among
-      the Miss Minifies of the period&mdash;the female writers whose ridiculous
-      productions were hidden beneath the sofa cushions in so many households.
-      Fanny Burney was a dutiful daughter and she had nothing of the cynic about
-      her, but she was well aware of the fact that success would be regarded by
-      her father as justifying an experiment that failure would have made
-      discreditable.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Once more, then, the three sisters met that night in Fanny's bedroom. The
-      two younger could now look on her without their feeling of awe. They were
-      on the verge of being indignant with Mrs. Burney for having made no
-      reference whatever since returning from the Reynoldses to the subject of
-      Sir Joshua's eulogy.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Not once did she mention the name of 'Evelina' to the padre; Sir Joshua
-      might just as well have talked of Miss Herschel's comet to her,&rdquo; said
-      Susy.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And after our schooling ourselves so rigidly to give no sign that we were
-      in any measure connected with the book too&mdash;it was cruel!&rdquo; said
-      Lottie.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It was not as if the padre did not give her a good chance more than
-      once,&rdquo; continued Susy. &ldquo;Did he not ask if anyone had given her any news?
-      And what did she answer?&mdash;Why, only that someone had said that Mr.
-      Fox had lost a fortune a few nights ago at faro! As if anybody cares about
-      Mr. Fox! I was prepared for her opening out at once to him about the book&mdash;maybe
-      begging him to send Williams to buy it at Mr. Lowndes'.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What, at seven-and-sixpence!&rdquo; cried Fanny. &ldquo;My dear child, do you know
-      mamma no better than to fancy that?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What I don't know is how she resisted it,&rdquo; said Lottie. &ldquo;Oh, you heard
-      how Sir Joshua talked about it; and Miss Reynolds too&mdash;she praised it
-      up to the skies.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Other people in the painting-room as well as in the drawing-room were
-      talking of it,&rdquo; said Susy. &ldquo;I heard the beautiful Miss Horneck speak of it
-      to the lady with the big muff and the rose taffeta with the forget-me-not
-      embroidery.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I am sure that everybody was speaking of it&mdash;I could hear the name
-      'Evelina' buzzing round the rooms,&rdquo; cried Lottie.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes; everyone was talking about it, and only mamma was silent&mdash;<i>is</i>
-      silent. I don't think that at all fair,&rdquo; continued Susy.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Fanny laughed.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You are silly little geese,&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;Could you not see that she would
-      not mention it lest it should reach our ears and we should be filled with
-      an <i>irresistible</i> desire to possess it&mdash;<i>it</i>&mdash;a modern
-      novel! Think of it! Oh, my dears, you are too unreasonable, Mamma knows
-      her duty too well to allow even the name of a novel to pass her lips and
-      maybe reach the ears of such a group of fly-away young things as
-      ourselves! She understands the extent of her responsibilities. Go to your
-      beds and be thankful that you have so excellent a guardian.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But when we were prepared&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; began one of them, when Fanny
-      interrupted her.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You may conserve your preparations&mdash;you will hear her say the name
-      soon enough&mdash;you may depend upon that,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;You may prepare to
-      hear yourselves summoned into her presence to give a full and true account
-      of your complicity in the thing which was perpetrated under this sacred
-      roof&mdash;nay, in the very room where the great philosopher Newton wrote
-      his thesis! A novel written in the room in which the divine 'Principia'
-      was produced! Why, 'twere as bad in mamma's eyes as acting one of Mr.
-      Foote's farces in St. Paul's Cathedral. Oh, yes, you'll have to face her
-      soon enough, and after that you'll never wish to hear the name Evelina
-      again. Now, good-night, and thank heaven for your respite.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      They left her, glum and dissatisfied. It was plain to her that they were
-      disappointed at not being given the opportunity of showing how admirably
-      they had themselves under control in regard to the secret&mdash;of showing
-      Fanny how they could hear Mrs. Burney talk at length about &ldquo;Evelina,&rdquo;
-       while neither of them gave the least sign of ever having heard the name
-      before. It was indeed disappointing that all their studied immobility
-      should go for nothing.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But Fanny knew that their secret could not possibly remain hidden for many
-      more days. If the book was going into everybody's hands, her father would
-      be certain to have it, and then&mdash;would he not know? Would not she be
-      summoned into his presence and that of his wife&mdash;the lady of many
-      responsibilities&mdash;and required to defend herself?...
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      She fell asleep before she had come to any conclusion as to the line of
-      defence that she should adopt.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And in spite of the readiness of her sisters for any inquisition to which
-      they might be summoned, they were startled&mdash;as was also Fanny herself&mdash;when,
-      immediately after a rather silent and portentous breakfast, Mrs. Burney
-      said:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Susy and Lottie, you may go to your duties. You, Fanny, will remain, as
-      your father wishes to speak to you on a matter of some gravity.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      So the long-expected hour had come, the three girls thought. By some
-      accident unknown to them their secret was exposed, and Fanny was about to
-      be called upon to explain, if she could, to the satisfaction of her father
-      and her stepmother, how it came that she so far forgot the precepts of her
-      upbringing as to write a novel quite in the modern spirit, though adopting
-      a form which the master-touch of Mr. Samuel Richardson had hallowed.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XXIX
-    </h2>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE two girls left
-      the room slowly, after sending in the direction of Fanny a glance which
-      they meant should encourage her&mdash;a glance which should let her know
-      that they were quite ready to share her punishment, should the worst come
-      to the worst.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Fanny replied to them with her eyes; and then prepared for the worst.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It quickly came.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;My dear daughter,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney, when they were alone, Mrs. Burney in
-      her chair at the head of the table. &ldquo;My dear Fanny, I am no believer in
-      leading by degrees up to such a communication as I have to make to you. I
-      think that the sooner it is got over the better it will be for all whom it
-      may concern. Well, this is it: Mr. Thomas Barlowe has written to me asking
-      my permission for him to address you with a view to marriage.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      He made a pause, looking at her to observe the effect of this revelation.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And what he saw at first was a girl with a pale face and downcast eyes,
-      awaiting, almost breathlessly, an accusation from which she shrank; but
-      when he had spoken he saw a great change come over her. Not immediately,
-      but gradually. It seemed to him that she had not fully realized the
-      meaning of his words&mdash;that she was puzzled&mdash;trying to recall
-      what he had said. Then the light seemed to dawn upon her. She flushed,
-      and, after a few moments, threw back her head and went into a peal of
-      laughter&mdash;a real schoolgirl's fit of laughter at something amazingly
-      comic&mdash;the tumbling of a clown into a pool of water with a splash,
-      or, perhaps, the slipping of a dignified beadle upon a butter slide. Her
-      laughter went on for a long time, but without in the least suggesting
-      hysteria&mdash;it was simply a girl's natural laughter on realizing the
-      comic side of a situation which grown-up people would regard as extremely
-      serious.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Neither her father nor his wife could understand why she should receive in
-      such a spirit an essentially serious communication&mdash;the most serious
-      that any young woman could receive. They had not before them the ludicrous
-      picture that presented itself to her imagination&mdash;a picture of the
-      Roman Rauzzini on the one side and the Poultry Barlowe on the other,
-      asking her to choose between them. It was this presentment, coming in a
-      flash the moment she realized that the publishing of the book was not the
-      question which she had to face, that forced her to yield to that long fit
-      of laughter.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Her father and stepmother sat stolidly by, but she knew that had she and
-      her father been alone, he would at least have smiled with her.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      In a few minutes she had recovered herself sufficiently to be able to
-      apologize for her levity.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I beg your pardon,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I am behaving like a goose, but I could
-      not help it&mdash;something forced me&mdash;something that occurred to me&mdash;a
-      funny thing. I am very sorry.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;There is nothing funny that I can see in the honourable request made by
-      an honest young man, my dear Fanny,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, no; nothing whatever; only&mdash;well, funny ideas will occur to
-      foolish people like myself at the most serious moments,&rdquo; said Fanny.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That is quite true, indeed,&rdquo; said her father. &ldquo;I have myself experienced
-      what you say. Perhaps, after all, I should not have blurted out what I had
-      to tell you&mdash;it came to you as a surprise, I doubt not.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;A great surprise, indeed,&rdquo; she replied. &ldquo;I cannot understand how Mr.
-      Barlowe could ever fancy that I&mdash;that he&mdash;that&mdash;oh, I
-      should have known what that terrible entertainment was meant to lead to&mdash;but
-      when, in that clumsily marked way I was sent into the drawing-room with
-      him alone, he began to talk of his uncle, the Aider-man&mdash;he said that
-      the Alderman was quite approachable even in regard to ordinary people like
-      ourselves&mdash;and then came his cousins&mdash;all of them remarkable!
-      But you should have seen him slice away at the ham&mdash;the biggest ham I
-      ever saw&mdash;it needed to be&mdash;such eating!&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The recollection of that no doubt made you laugh,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney. &ldquo;But,
-      at the same time, you must remember that though the customs of the Poultry
-      are not ours, still, they may be very reasonable customs&mdash;perhaps
-      more reasonable than our own. It may suit us to dine as late as halfpast
-      four and only to have a slice of cake with our tea; but business people
-      find it more convenient to dine at one o'clock&mdash;it makes an equal
-      division of their long working-day&mdash;so that a slice of ham&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I know that is quite true, and I was not so foolish as to give myself
-      airs because I had dined at half-past four and had no appetite for ham,&rdquo;
-       said Fanny; &ldquo;but&mdash;oh, mother, you saw how foolishly formal was the
-      whole thing.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I said that I thought it quite unnecessarily formal,&rdquo; replied Mrs.
-      Burney, &ldquo;and if I had had any notion that it was going to be like that I
-      would certainly have given Mrs. Barlowe a hint. Still, Thomas is, I know,
-      an excellent young man who has never given his parents an hour's
-      uneasiness, and his intentions are honourable, and so should be honoured.
-      If you have no tender regard for him at present that is no reason why,
-      when you get accustomed to the thought of him as a suitor for your hand&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, mother, that is quite impossible!&rdquo; cried Fanny. &ldquo;How could I ever get
-      accustomed to such a thought?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I do not know why you should not,&rdquo; replied Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;He is a most
-      worthy young man, and Mr. Barlowe's business is one of the best in the
-      City. You must remember, my dear Fanny, that in these days a girl, unless
-      she has a portion, runs a very great chance of becoming an old maid, so
-      that no opportunity of settling down in a comfortable home should be
-      neglected.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That is perfectly true,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney. &ldquo;You will understand that we
-      have no desire to force this or any match upon you, my dear child: so long
-      as I have a house over my head you shall share it. But I am sure that you
-      must know that I am a poor man to-day, although I have worked as hard at
-      my profession as any living man, and I cannot provide you or your sisters
-      with any portion. Heaven knows that if I had a fortune I would gladly
-      divide it among you; but as it is, I think it right to tell you that you
-      need expect nothing.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Dearest father,&rdquo; said Fanny, dissolving into tears, as she took his hand
-      and kissed it, &ldquo;I have never expected a fortune from you&mdash;not a penny
-      piece. I know that I shall be portionless, and I daresay that Mr. Barlowe
-      thinks himself generous in his proposal; but I could never bring myself to
-      accept him&mdash;to look on him as a suitor. It would be quite impossible.
-      If I thought it possible that I should ever have any affection for him, I
-      might feel myself justified in encouraging him; but I know that it would
-      be out of the question. I would prefer to go forth and beg my bread&mdash;nay,
-      to starve.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Then we shall pursue the matter no farther for the present,&rdquo; said her
-      father, kissing her on the forehead as she nestled close to him.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Yes, that is best&mdash;for the present,&rdquo; acquiesced his wife. &ldquo;Still, if
-      you will be advised by me, my dear Fanny, you will remember that Mr.
-      Barlowe is ready to address you knowing that you will be portionless, and
-      if you bear that in mind, perhaps you will be surprised to find some' day,
-      not so far distant, that the thought of him is not so repugnant to you.
-      You are no longer a girl, and when one is midway between twenty and thirty
-      every extra year counts in reducing one's chances of being settled in
-      life. I could cite dozens of instances that I have known of young women
-      being glad to accept at twenty-eight the suitors they scorned at twenty or
-      even twenty-five. Oh, yes, the years come upon one and bring with them a
-      clearer vision of life and love; frequently they bring regret for
-      opportunities neglected. But we will not press the matter any farther&mdash;just
-      now. I dare say the young man will submit to be put off&mdash;for a time.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Nay, for ever,&rdquo; said Fanny resolutely.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, well,&rdquo; said her stepmother.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      After a pause, during which Fanny seemed to be debating some matter in her
-      mind, a little line showing itself along her forehead, she said slowly: &ldquo;I
-      do not think that I shall be a burden on you, dear father; I believe that
-      one day I may be able to do something.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Do not fancy that I would ever think of you as a burden, my dear child,&rdquo;
-       said her father. &ldquo;But what do you mean by saying that you may one day do
-      something?&mdash;some work, do you suggest?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Something&mdash;I am fond of writing,&rdquo; she murmured.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      He laughed gently, saying:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You are a very good girl, my love, and I know how much I am indebted to
-      you for your admirable copying of my notes for the History; but do not let
-      the idea take hold of you that such work is well paid. If you ever get in
-      touch with a bookseller, he will tell you that the work of a copyist is
-      very poorly paid.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I was not thinking of copying,&rdquo; murmured Fanny.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Of what then, pray?&rdquo; he asked.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;If I could but write a book,&rdquo; she replied, with her eyes on the floor.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;A book!&rdquo; cried Mrs. Burney, who thought that she had been silent long
-      enough. &ldquo;A book!&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;To be sure&mdash;to be sure,&rdquo; said her father, in the indulgent tone of a
-      parent humouring a child. &ldquo;You might write a book&mdash;so might anyone
-      who could pay for a ream of paper, a bottle of ink and a box of quills.
-      You should speak to Mr. Newbery about it: he has printed many nursery
-      stories since 'Goody Two Shoes.' You might indeed do something that the
-      children would take a fancy to. Well, Francis Newbery is as honest a man
-      as his uncle, and we may talk to him about it. By the by, did not you once
-      tell me that you had written something, or that you were going to write
-      something? You thought it proper to get my leave. I had forgotten that.
-      Well, if it be a moral nursery story, we might interest Mr. Newbery in
-      it.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I do not think that it is quite wise to encourage a girl to neglect her
-      useful household duties in order to compile some rubbish that no one would
-      read,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Of course you will understand that you are not to neglect your household
-      duties, Fanny,&rdquo; said her father.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;If she performs her household duties and sticks to her needlework, she
-      will have no time left for scribbling rubbish,&rdquo; cried Mrs. Burney,
-      hastily.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;She made a bonfire of all that childish nonsense long ago, and I hope
-      that she will never be so foolish as to waste good paper and pens and,
-      most precious of all, good time, over such exercises. That is all we have
-      to say just now, I think&mdash;is it not, Doctor? I shall reply to Mr.
-      Barlowe's letter&mdash;a most creditable letter&mdash;straightforward&mdash;honourable!
-      I am only sorry that I cannot make the reply to it that it deserves.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      She had opened the door and called for William, their manservant, to
-      remove the breakfast things. Fanny lingered for a few minutes after she
-      had risen from her chair. She had assumed from the moment she had begun to
-      speak of writing, that her opportunity had come; if her stepmother had not
-      interposed so hastily and so emphatically, she would have made her
-      confession as to &ldquo;Evelina,&rdquo;, let the consequences be what they might; but
-      now that the servant had come with his tray and her stepmother jingled her
-      key-basket, she perceived that her chance was gone. She had a sense of
-      sneaking out of the room.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      As she went slowly up the stairs she could hear the voice of her
-      stepmother remonstrating with her father for having said something that
-      she, Fanny, might regard as encouragement to waste her precious time in
-      the pursuit of such folly as writing a book.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      She heard her father's little laugh as he explained (she was sure) that of
-      course he had not been speaking seriously; but that he had not the heart
-      to be severe upon her and her harmless scribbling.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The author of &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; went very slowly upstairs, and when she reached
-      the work-room landing she found Susy and Lottie waiting for her, glowing
-      with excitement. Susy was waving over her head what seemed to be a bulky
-      pamphlet. Coming closer, Fanny saw that it was the chief of the literary
-      reviews, which had apparently just arrived at the house.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;A splendid column about 'Evelina,'&rdquo; she whispered. &ldquo;Not so good as it
-      should be, but still splendid. Here it is. But why are you so glum? Surely
-      they did not scold you now that the book is so great a success.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;They did not ask me to tarry in the room to charge me with double-dealing
-      in regard to the book,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;They would not allow me to make my
-      confession when I had the opportunity&mdash;the best that I shall ever
-      have. 'Twas not my confession that was on the <i>tapis</i>, but quite
-      another. That is why I look glum.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Another&mdash;another confession? But what had either of them to
-      confess?&rdquo; cried Lottie.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Nothing. They didn't confess.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But whose confession was it, then, if not theirs?&rdquo; asked Lottie.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It was young Mr. Barlowe's,&rdquo; said Fanny, with a lugubriousness that was
-      quite comic. &ldquo;Young Mr. Barlowe wrote to the padre to confess that he was
-      passionately&mdash;madly&mdash;in love with me, and threatening to drown
-      himself unless permission were given to him to address me&mdash;we all
-      know how fervently young Mr. Barlowe would put his case&mdash;that was
-      what I was summoned to listen to&mdash;the fiery letter&mdash;only it was
-      too ardent for my ears: I was only told its purport.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But who would ever have thought that he had it in him?&rdquo; cried Susy. &ldquo;Such
-      impudence! I never dreamt that he could rise to such a height of impudence
-      or I should have thought better of him.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;'Tis not too late yet, my child,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;You are at liberty to
-      think as highly of Thomas as you please&mdash;or as it would please him.
-      Please take over his blighted affections and it will be a weight off my
-      mind. Now give me a chance of reading my splendid review&mdash;not that I
-      care in the least what these foolish critics may say of me&mdash;I care
-      nothing, I tell you, only if you do not let me see it at once I shall die
-      at your feet.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;There it is,&rdquo; said Susy, &ldquo;a full column! The idea of anyone written of in
-      such terms being proposed to by Thomas Barlowe! Such impudence indeed!&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XXX
-    </h2>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE levity shown by
-      Fanny Burney and the flippancy of her phrases did not wholly conceal from
-      her sisters all that she was feeling on the subject of the proposal to
-      which she had referred with such lightness. She knew that while her father
-      and her stepmother would not treat her with any marked disfavour on
-      account of her rejection of the worthy young man who was ready to offer
-      her a home, still Mrs. Burney at least regarded with great disfavour the
-      nature of the answer which she had to send to the Poultry, and Fanny was
-      very well aware of the ease with which so conscientious a guardian as Mrs.
-      Burney could make her feel every day of her life what was Mrs. Burney's
-      opinion of her rejection of an eligible young man.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Fanny recognized the great merits of her stepmother, and she could look
-      from her standpoint at most of the incidents of their daily life. In that
-      household one mouth less to feed was worth consideration&mdash;the number
-      of mouths to feed was a constant source of thought with Mrs. Burney, as
-      was also the question of a provision for the future of all of them.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Mrs. Burney would be fully justified in feeling cross with her, not being
-      aware of the fact that another young man, compared with whom Thomas
-      Barlowe was as the dust of the ground, was burning, with an ardour of
-      which Thomas was incapable, to take her to himself and provide for her in
-      a style undreamt of in the Poultry.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But the worst of the matter was that she could not let her stepmother into
-      this secret. She could not say that she was engaged to marry Signor
-      Rauzzini, and she might leave herself open to the gravest rebuke for
-      having listened to his protestations of devotion without obtaining the
-      consent of either of her parents.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And through all this tangle of reflections there ran the silken thread of
-      consciousness that she was no longer the Fanny Burney who was regarded by
-      her stepmother as the dunce, but Fanny Burney the writer of &ldquo;Evelina,&rdquo; to
-      whom the most critical review had devoted a full column of adulation!
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      That was what made her position so anomalous; and it was because she took
-      the happenings of the previous days to heart that she went to bed with a
-      shocking headache, and after a sleepless night was found on the verge of a
-      fever. She was suffering from suppressed secrets; but the doctor did not
-      know this. He prescribed James's Powders; and when these should have done
-      all that they were meant to do&mdash;a small part of all that Dr. James
-      and Mr. Newbery affirmed they would do&mdash;a change into the country.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But several weeks had passed before she was strong enough to start on the
-      latter and most essential portion of the prescription, and found herself
-      in her own room in Mr. Crisp's isolated house at Chessington.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Meantime, of course, she had no further news of the book, and she remained
-      unconfessed, so far as the secret of its publication was concerned. Her
-      sisters did not so much as mention its name or the name of Thomas Barlowe,
-      so cleverly had they diagnosed the nature of her malady and so tactfully
-      did they try to hasten her recovery.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Her old friend Mr. Crisp had been her guide since her childhood. She
-      always alluded to him as her second Daddy&mdash;so far as paternal
-      influence was concerned she might have given him the foremost place. He it
-      was who had led her on to embody in letters to him the daily incidents of
-      her life, thus unconsciously setting the loom, as it were, in which
-      &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; was to be woven. He it was who became her teacher and her
-      critic, and it was possibly because she feared his criticism of her work
-      that she refrained from making a confidant of him from the first. She felt
-      that she could face the public and the reviewers&mdash;it did not matter
-      how they might receive the book, but she was too timid to submit it to the
-      mature judgment of the man who had first put a pen in her hand. It was not
-      on her own account that she refrained from giving him a chance of reading
-      her book, but on his: she knew how hurt he would be if he found her book
-      to be an indifferent one, and whether indifferent or not, how angry he
-      would be if people did not buy it by the thousand.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Now, however, that she found herself alone with him, she made up her mind
-      to tell him all about it. She would choose her own time for doing this;
-      but it would certainly be done before she returned to St. Martin's Street.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But on the second day after her arrival at Ches-sington a parcel came for
-      her, addressed by Susy. On opening it, she found it to contain two volumes
-      of &ldquo;Evelina.&rdquo; The letter that was enclosed told her that Cousin Edward had
-      called at the Orange Coffee House and found that a set had been left there
-      at the instance of Mr. Lowndes, addressed to Mr. Grafton. Of these, Lottie
-      had read the first two, which were now sent on to the author, but the
-      third she had not finished, and hoped that Fanny would not mind her
-      detaining it for a few days longer.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      This was really the first glimpse that the author had of her book in its
-      binding. She had, in the name of Mr. Grafton, requested Mr. Lowndes to
-      send a set of the volumes to the Orange Coffee House. But that was nearly
-      three months ago, and until now Mr. Lowndes appeared not to have thought
-      it worth his while to comply with the request. Now, however, it seemed to
-      have occurred to him that the author of a book that everyone was talking
-      about might be worth conciliating, and so he had directed a set of volumes
-      to the Coffee House.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      At once Fanny made up her mind that she would pave the way, so to speak,
-      for a full confession to Mr. Crisp.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Susy has sent me on two volumes of a new novel, lest I should feel dull,&rdquo;
-       she said. &ldquo;As if I am not much more likely to feel dull in the company of
-      a new novel than of my old Daddy!&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I thought that your stepmother prohibited the reading of novels, new or
-      old, in your house,&rdquo; said he.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Perhaps mamma did not know anything about this particular one,&rdquo; replied
-      Fanny; &ldquo;besides, it is to be read in your house, not ours.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;So that the responsibility will be mine?&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;Mrs. Burney is only
-      answerable to heaven for keeping your mind free from the baleful influence
-      of novels, but I am in a worse case, for I am answerable to Mrs. Burney.
-      And what is the name of the precious production?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Let me see,&rdquo; said Fanny, artfully referring to the title page. &ldquo;Oh, yes:
-      'Evelina; or, a Young Lady's Entrance into the World.' Do you call that an
-      alluring title?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Too sentimental by half,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;But I have heard of the thing, and
-      one of the reviews dealt with it some weeks ago.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Praise or blame?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, foolish adulation for the great part; but not without a reasonable
-      word here and there.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The reasonable part you are sure must be the censorious? That is not fair
-      to the poor author.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Poor author? Yes, they are all poor authors nowadays. What's the name of
-      this particular item of poverty?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;There is no name on the title page; but I hear that the writer was Mr.
-      Anstey himself.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What! another 'Bath Guide'!&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Sir Joshua Reynolds told mamma that he had remained up all night reading
-      it.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Poor Sir Joshua! His eyes are none too good at the best! And does Susy
-      believe that the book which kept Sir Joshua awake is the best one to send
-      you asleep? You came to Chessington, you know, to get as much as possible;
-      'Tired Nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep!' the truest words that
-      Shakespeare ever writ.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What I propose to do is to try it upon you, my dear sir. I mean to give
-      you a dose of it this evening, instead of gruel, and if it makes you sleep
-      I will know that I may continue it for myself&mdash;it will be more
-      wholesome than poppy or mandragora.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Good! But I dare swear that it will be bad enough to keep me awake. You
-      know that extremes meet in the case of books, as well as other matters;
-      one keeps awake reading a good book, in expectancy of its undeveloped
-      goodness; and reading a bad one, wondering how far the author can actually
-      go in point of dullness.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I have often thought that; but Susy has sent only two of the three
-      volumes.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;So that we shall not be able to fathom the full depth of the author's
-      dullness? We should be grateful to Susy&mdash;so should the author. Well,
-      you shall begin after tea, while there is yet daylight: <i>Le livre ne
-      vaut pas la chandelle.</i>&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;<i>Nous verrons</i>,&rdquo; cried Fanny.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And she started reading the book that same day, an hour before sunset. The
-      room in which they sat was a small one with a window facing the west and
-      overlooking a long stretch of billowy common. The spicy scent of the
-      wallflowers in the little garden patch at the side of the house was wafted
-      through the half-open lattice, and occasionally there came the sound of
-      the ducks gabbling at the pool beyond the gate that shut off the house
-      from the lane. It was a cloudless evening, and the sunset promised to be
-      peach-like in its tender tints of pink and saffron with the curves of
-      delicate green in the higher sky. Fanny sat at the window and the old man
-      reclined at his ease upon the sofa.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I am giving myself every chance,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;All that I ask of you, my
-      Fannikin, is that you do not glance at me every now and again to see if I
-      am still awake. If you do so, I shall never yield to so much as a doze.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I promise faithfully to await your signal that you are alert,&rdquo; said she.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And so began one of the most delightful hours of her life.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      She was not a particularly good reader aloud when a book was casually put
-      into her hands, but here she had before her a volume that she could almost
-      have repeated verbatim, so that she soon found that she was just too
-      fluent: she felt that if she went on at this rate his critical ear would
-      tell him that she had every page by heart, and he would ask her for an
-      explanation of so singular a thing as her being able to repeat so much of
-      a book which she professed to have in her hands for the first time. She
-      put a check upon her fluency, and though she did not go so far as to
-      simulate stumbling over certain words, she neglected the punctuation now
-      and again, and then went back upon some of the passages, causing him to
-      give a little grumble and say:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Be careful, my dear; there's no need for haste: the evening is still
-      young.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      After that she was more careful&mdash;which is the same as saying she was
-      more careless of adhering to the scheme she had adopted. She felt that as
-      he had now been put off the scent, she might run along as she pleased
-      without there being a chance of his suspecting anything through her
-      showing herself familiar with passage after passage.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Before she had got through more than a dozen pages she heard a creaking of
-      the sofa&mdash;she trusted herself to glance in that direction and found
-      that he was no longer reclining: he was sitting up and listening
-      attentively. She continued reading without making a remark for a full
-      hour. The sun had set, but the twilight was clear enough to allow of her
-      seeing the print on the page before her for some time still; then the
-      darkness seemed to fall all at once, and she laid the book down when she
-      had come to the close of one of the letters.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Candles,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Candles! Upon my word, the world is right for once:
-      the stuff is good. We must have candles. Candles, I say!&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Supper, say I,&rdquo; cried Fanny. &ldquo;I feel that I have need of bodily
-      refreshment after such a task. Does it sound real to you, Daddy Crisp&mdash;all
-      about the Young Lady who is about to enter the world?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Not merely does it sound real, it is real&mdash;it is reality,&rdquo; he
-      replied quickly. &ldquo;The man who wrote what you have read has something of
-      the genius of&mdash;of&mdash;now whom does he resemble, think you?&mdash;Richardson
-      here and there, and in places, Fielding, it seems to me.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You suppose that 'tis written by a man?&rdquo; she said.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, of course, 'tis the work of a man,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;Where is the woman
-      living that is capable of writing a single page of that book? What, have I
-      gone to so much trouble in training you to understand what is bad and what
-      is good in writing, to so little purpose, that you should have a doubt as
-      to the sex of what you have just read?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The sex of a book&mdash;a novel?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why not? There are masculine books and there is feminine&mdash;trash.
-      There you have the difference.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And you do not consider this to be&mdash;trash?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Will you get the candles, Miss Burney? It seems that you are sorely in
-      need of illumination if you put that question to me seriously. Trash?
-      Madam, you perceive that I am all eagerness to hear the rest of the story,
-      and yet you put that silly question to me! Look you here, you rogue,
-      cannot you see that the very fact of your putting such a question to me
-      shows that the book is the work of a man? When a carefully trained woman
-      such as you cannot yet discriminate between the good and the trash that is
-      written, how would it be possible for a woman to write what you have
-      read?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You think there is nothing womanly in the book?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;There is nothing effeminate in the writing, so much is sure. There is
-      plenty that is womanly in the book, because the man who wrote it knows how
-      to convey to a reader a sense of womanliness to be in keeping with the
-      character of the letters&mdash;that is what is meant by genius. A woman
-      trying to produce the same effect would show the frill of her petticoat on
-      every page. She would make the men's parts in the book as feminine as the
-      women's. Now, no more chatter an you please, but get the candles.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And Mrs. Hamilton will get our supper by their light.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Fanny tripped away, and was behind the door of the larder before she
-      allowed the laughter which was pent up very close to her eyes to have its
-      freedom. It was a very hearty laugh that she had, for there was a constant
-      buzzing in her ears of the question:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What will he say when he learns the truth?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      She was ready to dance her Nancy Dawson in delight at seeing the effect of
-      the book upon the old man whom she loved&mdash;the man who was directly
-      responsible for its existence. If Mr. Crisp had not taken trouble with
-      her, encouraging her to write her letters to him in a natural style, the
-      correspondence in &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; would, she knew, be very different from what
-      it was. So, after all, she reflected, he was right in pronouncing the book
-      the work of a man; but he had no idea that he was the man who was
-      responsible for it. That reflection of hers was as fully imbued with the
-      true spirit of comedy as her anticipation of the effect that would be
-      produced upon him by the revelation of the authorship.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And that was why this young student of the human comedy was able to
-      restrain herself from making the revelation to him at once: she had, as it
-      were, a delicate palate for comedy, and it was a delight to her&mdash;the
-      gratification of her natural vanity had nothing to do with it&mdash;to
-      lead him on to commit himself more deeply every moment on the question of
-      the sex of the writer. Oh, no; she had no idea of making any confession to
-      him for the present. She would have many another chat with him before the
-      moment for that <i>dénouement</i> in the comedy should arrive.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      So she got the candles and the housekeeper laid the cold chicken and the
-      plates on the supper-table, and Mr. Crisp set about mixing the salad in
-      the manner he had acquired in Italy. And all the time they were engaged
-      over the simple meal he was criticising what she had read, and he had
-      scarcely a word to say about it that was not favourable. But he took care
-      to protect himself in case he should be forced to retire from the position
-      he had taken up.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;A man is a fool to pronounce an opinion on a book before he has had the
-      last page read to him,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I have only been touching upon the part
-      that I have heard, and I say that it seems to me to be as good as anything
-      I have read for years; but that is not saying that the remainder, or some
-      portions of the remainder, may not be so greatly inferior as to compel me
-      to pronounce unfavourably of the book as a whole. I have had instances of
-      such inequality shown by many writers, and it may be that the writer of
-      'Evelina' will be added to the list, although he shows no sign of falling
-      off up to your last page. Do not be hurried by me, my dear, but if you
-      have indeed made up your mind to eat no cheese, Mrs. Hamilton can remove
-      the <i>débris</i>, and unless you are tired, you will read me a few pages
-      more.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      She read until midnight. The only pauses that she made were when he
-      trimmed the wicks of the candles. He commended her fluency. She had never
-      read better in his hearing, he said. She showed that she understood what
-      she was reading; and that, after all, was the greatest praise that could
-      be given to anyone. He did not suggest the likelihood that she was tired.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      There was the sound of the bleating of lambs occasionally borne from the
-      meadows beyond the little stream&mdash;the sound of an owl that came
-      nightly about the house from the barn of the farm a few hundred yards away&mdash;the
-      sound of a large moth bumping against the glass of the casement through
-      which the candle-light shone. There was nothing to interrupt her in her
-      delightful task until the church clock struck the hour of midnight.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Not another line,&rdquo; she cried, jumping from her chair. &ldquo;Poor Evelina! she
-      will be the better for a sleep. When she awakens she may be able to see
-      more clearly who are her true friends and who are not to be trusted.
-      Good-night, dear Daddy; and receive my thanks for your attention.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Give me the volume,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I usually awake before six, and so shall
-      have a couple of hours of it before rising.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You will not get it from me, sir,&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;Captain Mervain knows the
-      naval rule about drinking glass for glass, and let me tell you that the
-      same rule holds in the matter of reading a book&mdash;chapter for chapter
-      between us, sir; we shall finish as we have begun.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      She blew him a kiss and ran upstairs to escape his protests: he shouted
-      them after her from the foot of the stairs.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XXXI
-    </h2>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE next morning
-      was a lovely one, and Fanny was feeding the ducks in the brook before
-      eight o'clock. When she came into the house to breakfast she found Mr.
-      Crisp in the porch.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You have given me a sleepless night,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I lay awake endeavouring
-      to determine for my own satisfaction what would be the outcome of the
-      girl's meeting that dreadful Branghton family. I worked out the story to
-      its proper conclusion&mdash;so I thought&mdash;on my left side; but when I
-      turned on my right I found that I had been grossly astray in all my
-      fancies; and forthwith I set to work to put myself right. After an hour or
-      two I thought I had succeeded, but, lo! a turn on my back and I saw that,
-      as I planned it, the story would never come to an end. So I kept on until
-      the dawn. Then I fell asleep, but only to find myself surrounded by
-      demons, in the form of Branghtons, and a master devil wearing the epaulets
-      of a naval officer, and he made for me with a horrid leer and a cry of
-      Mervain! I awoke in a worse state than did the Duke of Clarence in the
-      play, and I have not slept since. Oh, that little mischief, Susy!
-      Wherefore did she send hither that magic book to be my undoing?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Ah, sir, never before did I perceive the evil of novel reading,&rdquo; she
-      said. &ldquo;I could not understand my mother's banning all such books, but now
-      I see the wisdom of it. I now see how they tend to unsettle one. But it
-      may not yet be too late to save you from the evil influence of 'Evelina.'
-      If I read no more of her story, you will soon forget her and all may be
-      well.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You will read no more? Good! Carry out your threat and I will e'en take
-      the coach to London and buy a full set at Mr. Newbery's.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;At Mr. Newbery's? Ah, sir, that is a threat you could not carry out,
-      however vindictive you might be.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And why not, prithee? Think you I would begrudge the seven or eight
-      shillings it would cost?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Nay, sir; but if you went to Mr. Newbery you would probably find yourself
-      treated badly by him if you accused him of publishing the book. 'Tis Mr.
-      Lowndes who is the guilty person.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You will not put one to the humiliation of a journey to London all for a
-      trumpery novel?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Nay, not for a trumpery novel; but we were talking of 'Evelina.'&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I submit to the correction, my dear; and so now we are in perfect
-      agreement, you will continue the story, if only to allay my sleepless
-      speculations.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I wonder how it will sound when read in the morning? I fear that it will
-      be as dull as a play would seem in the garish light of day.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Tell not that to me. There are novels of the morn as well as of the even,
-      and I believe that the freshness of this one will be best appreciated in
-      the brightness of such a morning as this. At any rate, we can but make a
-      trial of it. If we find that it does not read well, you can lay it aside
-      till the evening.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Fanny was delighted to find that he was as interested in her book as Susy
-      had been; and the noon came and found her beginning the second volume to
-      him, sitting by his side in the sunlight that bathed the little garden,
-      and his attention never flagged. Once or twice, however, he grumbled, but
-      her ear assured her that his grumble was not a critical one; it was only
-      meant to censure the behaviour of the rude Captain Mervain.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      They were still in the garden when, shortly after noon, a chaise was heard
-      in the lane: it appeared to be on its way to the house.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What! as I live 'tis mamma and my sisters come to pay us a visit,&rdquo; cried
-      Fanny, seeing a handkerchief waved to her from the window.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;They shall be made welcome, for I cannot doubt that they have brought the
-      third volume with them,&rdquo; said Mr. Crisp, rising to receive his visitors.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      In this way the reading was interrupted, and indeed Fanny was rather glad
-      of a respite. She had not risen from her chair since nine o'clock. A
-      chance of stretching her limbs was very acceptable.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Mrs. Burney and the girls had scarcely settled down to their cakes and
-      sweet wine, after explaining that Dr. Burney had insisted on their taking
-      this drive into the country, the day promised to be so fine, when Mr.
-      Crisp turned to Susy, saying:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You wicked girl! What did you mean by sending us the two volumes of that
-      vile novel to upset us poor country folk? And I hope you have not
-      neglected to bring with you the third.&rdquo; Poor Susy reddened and glanced at
-      Fanny without trying to make any reply.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Eh, what is this?&rdquo; cried the old man. &ldquo;Do you mean to disclaim all
-      responsibility for the act? Ah, 'tis too late for you to make such an
-      attempt. The evil has been done. The poison has begun to work in our
-      blood; and its effects can only be neutralized by the contents of the
-      third volume. Say at once, I pray, if you have brought it.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Do not trouble poor Susy with your tropes, sir,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;She cannot
-      grasp your meaning, and only trusts that we have not gone mad. I suppose
-      the road was as usual&mdash;half of it muddy and the rest dusty?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I insist on hearing if the third volume is in the chaise,&rdquo; said Mr.
-      Crisp, firmly. &ldquo;If it be not, then you may drive straight back to St.
-      Martin's Street and return hither with it in time for Fannikin to read it
-      to-night.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Pray what book is it that you refer to, Mr. Crisp?&rdquo; inquired Mrs. Burney.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What book, madam! As if there were more books than one printed this year!
-      Why, Mrs. Burney, where have you been living all this time, that you have
-      never heard of 'Evelina '?&rdquo; cried he.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I have heard of little else save this 'Evelina' for some time past; but I
-      have no time for reading novels, nor has any member of my family,&rdquo; replied
-      the lady.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I insisted on one member of your family finding the time yesterday and
-      to-day, and the consequence is that she has gone through the first volume
-      and part of the second since Susy was so obliging as to send them hither.
-      I was in hopes that you had brought the third volume; but I perceive that
-      we shall have to wait for it now.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Susy was examining very closely the pattern on her plate when Mrs. Burney
-      turned to her, saying:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Does Mr. Crisp mean that you got that novel and sent it hither to Fanny?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Only part of it&mdash;no more than two volumes,&rdquo; said Susy quickly, as
-      though anxious to submit extenuating circumstances to the notice of her
-      stepmother.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Did you get it at Hill's library, or where?&rdquo; inquired Mrs. Burney.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I did not get it at a library,&rdquo; replied Susy slowly, as a reluctant
-      witness might answer an incriminating question.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What, did you buy it? Did you spend your money on it?&rdquo; cried Mrs. Burney,
-      with a note of amazement not free from anxiety.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, no; I did not buy it,&rdquo; said Susy.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;How did it come into your hands, then&mdash;tell me that?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Cousin Edward brought it for Fanny.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And you read the first two volumes and are now reading the third?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Nay, mamma, 'tis I that was led by my curiosity,&rdquo; said Lottie hastily.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Though you have often heard me protest against the vice of novel reading?
-      I wonder at you, Lottie. I am shocked that you should so yield to a vulgar
-      temptation,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Nay, my dear madam, you must not talk of our dear 'Evelina' as if she
-      were an everyday person,&rdquo; said Mr. Crisp. &ldquo;On the contrary, she is a most
-      interesting young lady, and if I do not soon learn what happens to her now
-      that she has formed some very dubious intimacies, I shall be inconsolable.
-      Have you read the book, Mrs. Burney?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Not I indeed,&rdquo; replied Mrs. Burney, with more than a suggestion of
-      indignation that such a charge should be brought against her. &ldquo;I have
-      heard enough about that book during the past month to prevent me from
-      having any wish to read it, even if I were a novel reader, which I
-      certainly deny. I am ashamed that any member of my household should so far
-      forget her duty as to read such stuff.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Come, come, my dear lady, you must remember that there are novels and
-      novels,&rdquo; said Mr. Crisp. &ldquo;I have heard you praise Mr. Richardson, have I
-      not?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Mr. Richardson was a genius and a great moral writer, sir, as well.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The two are not invariably associated. But what if I tell you that this
-      new book is worthy of being placed between 'Clarissa Harlowe' and
-      'Pamela'?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You will not do so gross an injustice to the memory of a great man, I am
-      sure. But, if you please, we will discuss this no longer. No matter what
-      this 'Evelina' may be, the fact remains that I gave a command that our
-      home should be free from the taint of novel reading, and my wishes have
-      been secretly ignored. I should not wonder if Fanny had encouraged Edward
-      to procure the book for her.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I cannot deny it,&rdquo; said Fanny in a low voice. &ldquo;'Twas my doing altogether.
-      All the blame should rest on my shoulders&mdash;yes, from the first&mdash;the
-      very first&mdash;from the title page on to 'Finis.'&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And your delinquency has given me greater pleasure than I have derived
-      from other people's rectitude,&rdquo; said Mr. Crisp. Then he turned to Mrs.
-      Burney.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Dear madam, you must forgive our Fannikin for her misdemeanour. If you
-      had but read the book for yourself you would feel as I do on the subject.
-      'Tis the most fascinating story&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That is, I hold, the worst of the matter,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;The more
-      fascinating the novel, the more dangerous it is, and the greater reason
-      there is why it should be excluded from every honest home. A dull story
-      may do but little harm. One might reasonably tolerate it even among a
-      household of young girls, but a clever one&mdash;a fascinating one, as you
-      call this 'Evelina,' should never be allowed to cross the threshold. But,
-      by your leave, sir, we will talk no more upon a question on which I know
-      we shall never agree.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That is the most satisfactory proposal that could be made,&rdquo; said Mr.
-      Crisp, bowing. &ldquo;I will only add that since you are so fully sensible of
-      the danger of a delightful book in your house, you will take prompt
-      measures to prevent the baleful influence of 'Evelina' from pervading your
-      home, by despatching the third volume to me without delay. The third
-      volume of such a novel may in truth be likened to the match in the barrel
-      of gunpowder: 'tis the most dangerous part of the whole. The first two
-      volumes are like the gunpowder&mdash;comparatively innocent, but the
-      moment the third volume is attached&mdash;phew! So you would do well not
-      to delay in getting rid of such an inflammatory composition, Mrs. Burney.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I promise you that you shall have it at once, sir,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney.
-      &ldquo;And I trust that you will not allow the first and second to return to my
-      house. A barrel of gunpowder may be as innocent as you say, so long as the
-      match is withheld, but still I have no intention of turning our home into
-      a powder magazine.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      That was the last reference made to &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; while Mrs. Burney and the
-      two girls remained at Chessington. They went away so as to be back in St.
-      Martin's Street in time for dinner; but the moment they were together in
-      the chaise Mrs. Burney burst out once more in her denunciation of the vice
-      of novel reading. From her general treatment of the theme she proceeded&mdash;as
-      the girls feared she would&mdash;to the particular instance of its
-      practice which had just come under her notice. She administered to poor
-      Susy a sound scolding for having received the book from her cousin Edward
-      in secret, and another to poor Lottie for having ventured to read it
-      without asking leave. The girls were soon reduced to tears, but not a word
-      did they say in reply. They were loyal to their sister and her secret with
-      which they had been entrusted. Not a word did either of them utter.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The drive home on that lovely afternoon was a dreary one, especially after
-      Mrs. Burney had said:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I fear that this duplicity has been going on for a long time in our
-      house. Yes, I have noticed more than once an exchange of meaning glances
-      between you and Fanny, and sometimes, too, when your cousin Edward was in
-      the room. It seemed to me that you had some secret in common which you
-      were determined to keep from me. I said nothing at that time, for though
-      my suspicions were awakened, yet I thought it best to take the most
-      favourable view of the matter, and I assumed that the secret&mdash;if
-      there was a secret&mdash;was an innocent one&mdash;such as girls in a
-      family may share among themselves about some trifling thing; but now I
-      have no doubt that your glances and your winks and your elbowings had to
-      do with the smuggling of books into the house for your surreptitious
-      reading. I am ashamed of you. It hurts me deeply to find that, after all
-      the care I have taken to preserve you in innocence of the world and its
-      wickedness, you have been behaving with such duplicity. I shall, of
-      course, think it my duty to let your father know what I have found out,
-      and he may be able to suggest some means of preventing a repetition of
-      such conduct.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      The poor girls dared not even look at each other for mutual sympathy, lest
-      such glances should be interpreted by their mother as a further attempt to
-      pursue the scheme of duplicity with which she had charged them. They could
-      only sit tearful and silent until they were once again in St. Martin's
-      Street. They longed to rush upstairs together to their room and mingle
-      their tears in a sisterly embrace before determining how they should meet
-      their stepmother's charges in the presence of their father.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But Mrs. Burney was too astute a strategist to permit them to consult
-      together.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Is your master within?&rdquo; she inquired of William, the man-servant, who
-      opened the door for them.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;He is in the library, madam, with Mrs. Esther,&rdquo; replied the man.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;So much the better,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney to the girls. &ldquo;We shall go directly
-      to him, and your sister Esther will be present.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      She made them precede her to the room that was called the library. Dr.
-      Burney and Hetty were laughing together across the table&mdash;the sound
-      of their merriment had been heard by the girls before the door was opened.
-      But at the portentous gravity of the entrance of Mrs. Burney her husband
-      became grave.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You have returned early,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and&mdash;good heavens! you have been
-      weeping&mdash;you do not bring bad news&mdash;Fanny has not had a
-      relapse?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Fanny is quite well; but I bring you bad news,&rdquo; replied Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;You
-      will, I am sure, regard it as the worst possible news when I tell you that
-      she, as well as her sisters here, have been guilty of the grossest
-      disobedience&mdash;a conspiracy of disobedience, I may call it.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I am amazed&mdash;and grieved,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;But I can scarcely believe
-      that, brought up as they have been&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;They do not deny it,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;I only discovered by chance that, in
-      defiance of our rule against novel reading, they been have trafficking
-      with their cousin Edward to procure novels for their secret reading, and
-      the latest they smuggled into the house is that one called 'Evelina'&mdash;I
-      actually found Fanny reading the book to Mr. Crisp, and her sisters
-      admitted&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But what did Fanny admit?&rdquo; he cried.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;She admitted that Edward had procured the book at her request,&rdquo; replied
-      his wife. &ldquo;Was not that enough?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Not half enough&mdash;not a quarter enough, considering that it was Fanny
-      who wrote 'Evelina' with her own hand and under our very noses without our
-      suspecting it,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney quietly.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Mrs. Burney looked at him dumbly for more than a whole minute. There was
-      silence in the room.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Then she sat slowly down on the nearest chair, still keeping her eyes
-      fixed upon him.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XXXII
-    </h2>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>OCTOR BURNEY sat
-      for a long time staring at a point high above his wife's head. The eldest
-      daughter, Hetty, standing at the other side of the writing-table, was
-      radiant; her eyes were dancing. The two others were standing together&mdash;huddled
-      together, it might be said, for they suggested a pair of lambs recently
-      frightened&mdash;doubtful of what is going to happen next and feeling that
-      the closer they are to each other the safer they will be.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Did you ever hear of anything so funny?&rdquo; said Hetty, glancing around and
-      still radiant.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Her father got upon his feet.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And she was the only one that never had any attention,&rdquo; said he, as if he
-      had not heard Hetty's remark. &ldquo;Fanny was left to make her own way as
-      pleased her best&mdash;no one troubled about her education. She was left
-      to pick up knowledge as best she could&mdash;the crumbs that fell from the
-      others' table&mdash;that was how she picked up French when the others came
-      back from school, and now she speaks it with the best of them... And so
-      shy! Tell me, if you can, how she got her knowledge of things&mdash;the
-      things in that book&mdash;the pictures red with life&mdash;the real
-      life-blood of men and women&mdash;love&mdash;emotion&mdash;pathos&mdash;all
-      that make up life&mdash;and don't forget the characterization&mdash;that's
-      what seems to me all but miraculous. Hogarth&mdash;we all know that
-      Hogarth drew his characters and fitted them into his pictures because he
-      made it a point to walk among them and look at them with observant eyes;
-      but tell me, if you can, what chance that child had of seeing anything;
-      and yet she has filled her canvas, and every bit is made up of firm, true
-      drawing. That is the chief wonder.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      He spoke evidently under the impulse of a great excitement at first, not
-      looking at anyone in particular&mdash;just skimming them all with his eyes
-      as he paced the room. But he seemed gradually to recover himself as he
-      talked, and he appeared to address his last words to his wife. This
-      assisted her to recover herself also&mdash;a minute or so in advance of
-      him.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You seem to be sure that Fanny wrote it,&rdquo; she said, when he had done. &ldquo;Is
-      it fair to condemn her before you make sure?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Everyone looked at Mrs. Burney; but only her husband laughed.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Condemn her&mdash;condemn her for having written the finest novel since
-      Fielding?&rdquo; he said, with the laugh still on his face. There was no laugh
-      on hers; on the contrary, its expression was more serious than ever.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;A novel is a novel,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I told Mr. Crisp&mdash;but that was only
-      about the reading of novels&mdash;the cleverer they are the more
-      mischievous&mdash;dangerous&mdash;even the reading&mdash;I never dreamt of
-      her going so far as to write one, clever or otherwise. But a novel is
-      still a novel&mdash;she must have neglected her duties in the house,
-      though I failed to observe it... and sending it to a bookseller without
-      saying a word to us! Who would have believed that a young woman with her
-      training&mdash;&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It flashed across me when I read the verses addressed to myself at the
-      beginning that she had asked my permission some months ago, and that I had
-      given it&mdash;I did so laughing at the poor child's credulousness in
-      believing that any bookseller would print it for her and pay her for the
-      privilege&mdash;the privilege of making a thousand pounds out of her
-      book.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What! are you serious?&mdash;a thousand pounds, did you say?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Mr. Lowndes will make more than a thousand pounds by the sale of the book&mdash;Hetty
-      tells me that he only paid Fanny twenty for it.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What is the world coming to&mdash;a fortune in a single book! And we
-      talked about her being portionless, when all the time she was more richly
-      endowed than all the rest of the family; for if she has written one book,
-      she can certainly write another equally remunerative. 'Perhaps she has
-      another ready for the printers.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Mrs. Burney was blessed with the capacity to look at matters, however
-      artistic they might be, from the standpoint of the practical housekeeper.
-      The mention of so sonorous a sum as a thousand pounds caused the scales of
-      prejudice to fall from the eyes through which she had regarded the act of
-      authorship, and at that instant she perceived that it should not be
-      thought of as a delinquency but as a merit.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And, after all, it appeared that the girl had obtained the permission of
-      her father to print it&mdash;that put quite a different complexion upon
-      the transaction, did it not?
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And a thousand pounds&mdash;that appealed to the good sense of a practical
-      person and swept away the last cobweb of prejudice that she had had
-      respecting novels and their writers.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Has she another book written, think you?&rdquo; she inquired in a tone full of
-      interest. &ldquo;Of course we shall see that she gets a better share of Mr.
-      Lowndes' thousand pounds than she did for her first.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;She has not written a line since 'Evelina,'&rdquo; said Esther. &ldquo;To be sure, I
-      have not been her <i>confidante</i> since I got married, but I know that
-      she was so frightened at the thought of what she had done that she would
-      not write another page.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Frightened! What had she to be frightened about?&rdquo; cried Mrs. Burney in a
-      tone of actual amazement.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Goodness knows,&rdquo; said Esther with a laugh.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The sound of the dinner-bell coming at that moment had about it also
-      something of the quality of a long, loud, sonorous outburst of laughter
-      with a cynical tinkle at the last.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The group in that room dissolved in all directions with exclamations of
-      dismay at being overtaken by the dinner-hour so unprepared.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It is all over now,&rdquo; said Susy to Lottie, when they were alone in their
-      room. &ldquo;I was afraid when she ushered us so formally into the library that
-      we would be forced to tell our secret.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I made up my mind that no torture of the rack or wild horses would unseal
-      my lips,&rdquo; said Susy, earnestly. &ldquo;Do you know, Lottie, I feel quite lonely
-      without our secret.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It is just the same with me, dear,&rdquo; said Lottie. &ldquo;I feel as if I were
-      suddenly cut off from some great interest in life&mdash;as if I had gone
-      downstairs one morning and found that someone had stolen the piano. I
-      wonder if it was Hetty who told the padre.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Make haste and we shall soon learn all,&rdquo; said Susy.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Before they had finished dinner they learned from their father how he had
-      got to the bottom of the secret that they had so cherished.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      He had gone as usual to give a music lesson to Queenie Thrale, and when
-      partaking of some refreshment before setting out for London, Mrs. Thrale
-      had talked to him in terms of the highest praise of &ldquo;Evelina.&rdquo; She had
-      read the book twice over, she told him, and had lent it to Dr. Johnson,
-      who could talk of nothing else. Then Mrs. Cholmondeley had arrived on a
-      visit to Thrale Hall, and she, too, was full of praise of the book. She,
-      too, had lent her copy to someone else&mdash;to no less important a person
-      than Mr. Edmund Burke, and he had declared himself as greatly captivated
-      by it as his friend Sir Joshua Reynolds had been. Everybody was talking
-      about it, and the question of the authorship had been as widely discussed
-      as before; Mrs. Cholmondeley had declared that she would give twenty
-      guineas to find out for certain who it was that had written the book.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Mrs. Thrale had thereupon suggested that Dr. Burney was in a better
-      position than most people for solving the mystery, going about as he was
-      from one part of the town to another and being in close touch with all
-      manner of people.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;But I had not, as you know, so much as read the book for myself&mdash;I
-      seemed to be the only one in town who had not done so&mdash;and on getting
-      home I sent William post haste to Mr. Lowndes to purchase a set. This
-      done, I sat down to peruse the first volume. The page opened on the Ode;
-      it lay beneath my eyes, and I tell you truly that I did not seem to read
-      it: I seemed to hear Fanny's voice reading the verses in my ear, and the
-      truth came upon me in a flash&mdash;incredible though it appeared, I knew
-      that it was she who had written the book. Hetty came in before my eyes
-      were dry&mdash;she saw the volume in my hand, and she understood all. 'You
-      know,' was all that she said. I think that the greatest marvel was the
-      keeping of the secret of the book! To think of its being known to four
-      girls and never becoming too great for them to bear!&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      He was appealing to his wife, but she only nodded a cold acquiescence in
-      his surprise. She remained silent, however, and this was something to be
-      grateful for, the girls thought: they knew just what she was thinking, and
-      they also knew that if they had some little trouble in keeping their
-      secret, she had very much more in restraining herself from uttering some
-      comment upon their reticence&mdash;their culpable reticence, she would
-      think it. They could see that she was greatly displeased at having been
-      excluded from their secret, since such an exclusion had forced her into a
-      false position more than once&mdash;notably in the presence of Mr. Crisp,
-      when she had become the assailant of novels and novel reading generally,
-      and also when she had scolded them on their return in the chaise. But they
-      were good girls, and they were ready to allow that they were in the wrong,
-      even though they did not think so: that is what really good girls do in
-      their desire for peace in their homes. And Lottie and Susy made up their
-      minds that should their stepmother tax them with double-dealing and
-      deceit, they would not try to defend themselves. The reflection that they
-      had kept their sister's secret would more than compensate them for any
-      possible humiliation they might suffer at Mrs. Burney's hands.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      All that Mrs. Burney said at the conclusion of her husband's further
-      rhapsody about the marvel of Fanny's achievement, considering how she had
-      been generally thought the dunce of the family, was comprised in a few
-      phrases uttered in a hurt tone:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;While no one is more pleased than myself to witness her success, I cannot
-      but feel that she would have shown herself possessed of a higher sense of
-      her duty as a daughter if she had consulted her father or his wife in the
-      matter,&rdquo; she said.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That may be true enough,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney; &ldquo;but if she had done so, would
-      she have achieved her purpose any more fully than she has, I ask you? No,
-      my dear, I do not feel, with any measure of certainty, that I would have
-      gone far in my encouragement of her efforts, nor do I think that you would
-      have felt it consistent with your principles to do so.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I was only referring to the question of a simple girl's duty in regard to
-      her parents,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And your judgment on that point is, I am certain, unassailable,&rdquo; said he.
-      &ldquo;But here we have a girl who is no simple girl, but a genius; and I think
-      that a good deal of latitude should be allowed to a genius&mdash;a little
-      departure from the hard and fast line of the duties expected from a simple
-      girl may be permitted in such a one as Fanny.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, she has succeeded in her aims&mdash;so much is plain,&rdquo; said Mrs.
-      Burney. &ldquo;But I hope that should any of her sisters set about a similar
-      enterprise&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      But the ringing laughter that came from the sisters, their father joining
-      in with great heartiness, saved the need for her to complete her sentence.
-      At first she felt hurt, but she quickly yielded to the exuberant spirit
-      that pervaded the atmosphere of the room, and smiled indulgently, after
-      the manner of a staid elderly lady who is compelled to take part in the
-      romp of her girls and boys at Christmas time.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      She continued smiling, and the others continued laughing, and this spirit
-      of good humour was maintained until bedtime.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The girls knew that they would not be scolded for their participation in
-      Fanny's secret; for Fanny by her success had justified any amount of
-      double-dealing. If Fanny had made a fool of herself they would feel that
-      they deserved to participate in her scolding; but success is easily
-      pardoned, and so they rightly counted upon a general amnesty. What was it
-      that their father had said about a thousand pounds?
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      They went to bed quite happy, in spite of being deprived of the fearful
-      joy of having a secret to keep.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XXXIII
-    </h2>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>R. BURNEY had
-      given instructions that Fanny was not to be communicated with at
-      Chessington until he had seen her; but that the third volume of the book
-      was to be sent to Mr. Crisp without delay. He was to go to Streatham again
-      in two days' time, and thence to Chessington, where he would make Mr.
-      Crisp aware of the identity of the writer of &ldquo;Evelina.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      He anticipated an interesting hour with Mr. Crisp, but a very much more
-      interesting half-hour with Mrs. Thrale; for he meant, of course, to lose
-      no time in letting that lady into the secret: he knew that she would make
-      the most of the information he could impart to her; to be the first to
-      learn what all her friends were striving to learn would at once place her
-      above Mrs. Cholmondeley, who was willing to pay twenty guineas for the
-      knowledge, and even Mrs. Montagu, who was inclined to patronize Mrs.
-      Thrale and a good many other ladies, in spite of the fact that Dr. Johnson
-      dined usually five days out of every week with Mrs. Thrale, but had only
-      dined once with Mrs. Montagu since she had gone to her new house.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Dr. Burney was well aware how valuable the Thrale connection was to him; a
-      teacher of music is apt to look with sparkling eyes at a houseful of girls
-      whose father possesses the possibilities of such wealth as was defined by
-      Dr. Johnson in this particular case as beyond the dreams of avarice. Dr.
-      Burney had a very nice judgment on the subject of an influential
-      connection, and so was delighted to have a chance of doing a signal good
-      turn to so deserving a patroness as Mrs. Thrale. Yes, he felt sure that
-      his half-hour at Streatham Hall would be the most interesting of the many
-      half-hours he had spent under the same hospitable roof.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And he was not mistaken in his surmise.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Mrs. Thrale had, as usual, several friends coming to partake of an early
-      repast with her; and Dr. Burney had pictured to himself the effect of his
-      announcement to the company that his daughter had written the book upon
-      which he was pretty sure the conversation would turn&mdash;indeed, he felt
-      that he would be greatly surprised if the conversation did not immediately
-      rush to the question of &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; and remain there for the rest of the
-      afternoon; for the enterprising ladies would doubtless bring with them
-      some fresh suggestions or new cues to its authorship. He pictured himself
-      allowing them to go on for some time until perhaps a statement would be
-      made which he should have to contradict point-blank. They would all look
-      at him in surprise. What did he know about the matter? Was he interested
-      in the question? Had he found out anything?
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      How he would smile while saying quietly:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Well, I am more or less interested in the matter, the fact being that
-      'Evelina' is the work of my daughter, Fanny Burney!&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      That would be, he thought, a fitting moment in which to divulge the
-      secret; he saw the whole scene clearly before him.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But before he had reached his destination that intuition of what would
-      commend itself to a patron which had been so important an auxiliary to his
-      ability in placing him above his rivals in his profession, overcame his
-      desire to play the most important part in a dramatic scene; he perceived
-      that such a rôle should be taken by an influential patroness, and not by
-      himself. Thus it was that when Mrs. Thrale was giving him a cup of
-      chocolate after his journey he smiled, saying:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I was greatly interested in the conversation between Mrs. Cholmondeley
-      and the other ladies when I was last here.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;About 'Evelina'?&rdquo; she inquired. &ldquo;Ah, I wonder if Mrs. Cholmondeley has
-      yet paid over her twenty guineas to the discoverer of the author. It seems
-      that he has as arduous a task in regard to 'Evelina' as Raleigh had in
-      regard to his El Dorado.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;So it would appear,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney. &ldquo;Let us hope that his efforts will
-      be more highly valued than those of poor Sir Walter. Have you yourself no
-      suspicions on the subject, madam?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, suspicions? There have been as many suspicions set going on this
-      subject within the month as would be entertained only by the most
-      imaginative Bow Street runner. For my own part, I maintain that the book
-      could only have been writ by our friend Horace Walpole. He found that his
-      'Otranto' excited so much curiosity when published without a name, he came
-      to the conclusion that he would produce another novel with the same amount
-      of mystery attached to it. The only point against this assumption is that&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That the book was assuredly written by another person,&rdquo; said Burney,
-      smiling in a way that he designed to be somewhat enigmatical.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Mrs. Thrale tried to interpret his smile.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What!&rdquo; she exclaimed, &ldquo;you have formed another theory&mdash;you&mdash;you
-      have heard something since you were last here?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Not something, madam&mdash;not a mere something, but everything&mdash;everything
-      that is to be known regarding the writer of that book.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Is't possible? Who is your informant?&mdash;the value of all that you
-      have heard is dependent upon the accuracy of your informant.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The book was written by the person whom I fancied I knew best of all the
-      people in the world, and yet the last person whom I would believe capable
-      of such a feat. The author of the book&mdash;I am the author of her being&mdash;she
-      is none other than my daughter Fanny.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Mrs. Thrale sat staring at him, one arm resting upon the table, her lips
-      parted as if about to utter an exclamation of surprise, but unable to do
-      so by reason of her surprise.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      More than a minute had passed before she was able to speak, and then she
-      could do no more than repeat his words.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Your daughter Fanny&mdash;your daughter&mdash;but is not Fanny the little
-      shy one that goes into a corner when you have company?&rdquo; she asked, in a
-      tone that suggested that she had heard something too ridiculous to be
-      believed.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;She is that one, madam,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;It would seem as if the corner of a
-      room has its advantages in enabling one to observe life from a true
-      standpoint. Two eyes looking out from a corner with a brain behind them&mdash;there
-      you have the true writer of a novel of life and character. Poor Fanny! How
-      often have not I talked of her as 'poor Fanny'? She had no education
-      except what she contrived to pick up haphazard&mdash;a sweet child&mdash;a
-      lovable daughter, but the last person in the world to be suspected of such
-      a book as 'Evelina.'&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You are sure, sir&mdash;you have seen&mdash;heard&mdash;you know?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Beyond any doubt. Her sisters were let into the secret, but neither of
-      her parents. I know now why that was&mdash;no want of duty&mdash;no lack
-      of respect&mdash;she began the book for her own amusement, and it grew
-      under her hand; she sent it to a bookseller, more as a jest than in the
-      belief that anything would come of it, and up to the last it was treated
-      by her and her sisters as a schoolroom mystery&mdash;a nursery secret&mdash;and
-      Mrs. Burney and I were kept out of it solely because we were not of the
-      nursery or the schoolroom. And when it became a serious matter we were
-      excluded because they were afraid to reveal it to us&mdash;Fanny herself,
-      dear child!&mdash;feared that we would be concerned if it were stillborn.
-      It was only when it was at the point of being published by Mr. Lowndes
-      that she came to me saying that she had been writing something and wanted
-      my leave to send it forth, promising that no name would appear upon the
-      title page. I gave my leave with a smile, and when I had my laugh at the
-      innocence of the girl in fancying that any bookseller would pay for the
-      printing of what she might scribble, I forgot all about the matter. It was
-      only when I sent for the book and read the Ode addressed to myself that I
-      seemed to hear Fanny's voice speaking the words in my ear&mdash;I told the
-      others so when they returned from visiting her at Chessington. But
-      meantime Esther had come to me, and she told me all that was known to her
-      about the book and its secret.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The most wonderful story ever known&mdash;more wonderful than the story
-      of Evelina herself!&rdquo; cried Mrs. Thrale. &ldquo;How people&mdash;Mrs.
-      Cholmondeley and the rest&mdash;will lift up their hands! Who among them
-      will believe it all possible? List, my dear doctor, you must bring her to
-      me in the first instance&mdash;all the others will be clamouring for her
-      to visit them&mdash;I know them! You must bring her to me without delay&mdash;why
-      not to-day? I can easily send a chaise for her&mdash;a coach if necessary.
-      Well, if not to-day, to-morrow. I must have her here. We will understand
-      each other&mdash;she and I; and Dr. Johnson will be with us&mdash;quite a
-      little company&mdash;for dinner. You will promise me?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Be assured, dear madam, that there is no house apart from her home where
-      I feel she would be happier than in this,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney. &ldquo;She has often
-      expressed the warmest admiration for you, and I know that her dearest wish
-      is to be on terms of intimacy with you.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;The sweet girl! she shall have her dearest wish gratified to the fullest
-      extent, sir. You will bring her as early to-morrow as it suits you. Good
-      heavens! to think of that dear retiring child taking the town by storm!
-      Dr. Johnson wrote to me no later than last evening, expressing once more
-      his delight in reading the book, and Mr. Burke, too&mdash;but you heard
-      about Mr. Burke. I will never forget your courtesy in telling me first of
-      all your friends that she was the author, dear doctor.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;If not you, madam, whom would I have told?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I shall be ever grateful. You will give me leave to make the revelation
-      to my friends who will be here to-day?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It is open for you to tell them all that I have told you, my dear madam;
-      and you may truthfully add that if the writing of the book will bring her
-      into closer intimacy with Mrs. Thrale, the author will feel that it has
-      not been written in vain.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      He made his lowest bow on rising from the table to receive his pupil, who
-      entered the room at that moment.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      He had confidence that he was right in his intuition that his patroness
-      would act with good effect the rôle which he had relinquished in her
-      favour, when her friends would arrive in another hour for their
-      &ldquo;collation;&rdquo; and he was ready to allow that none could have played the
-      part more neatly than she did when the time came to prove how much
-      better-informed she was than the rest of the world. She might have been
-      possessed of the knowledge that Miss Burney was the writer of &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo;
-       from the first, from the easy and natural way in which she said:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Pray do not trouble yourselves telling me what Mrs. Cholmondeley said to
-      Mr. Lowndes, or what Mr. Lowndes said to someone else about the writer of
-      the novel; for it happens that I know, and have known for&mdash;for some
-      time the name of the author.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      There were a few little exclamations of surprise, and a very pretty
-      uplifting of several pairs of jewelled hands at this calm announcement.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, yes,&rdquo; she continued, &ldquo;the writer is a friend of my own, and the
-      daughter of one of my most valued friends, and if any people talk to you
-      in future of 'Evelina' being the work of Mr. Walpole or Mr. Anstey or any
-      man of letters, pay no attention to these astute investigators, but tell
-      them that I said the book is the work of Miss Fanny Burney, one of the
-      daughters of the celebrated Dr. Charles Burney, himself the author of a
-      'History of Music' that will live so long as the English language has a
-      literature of its own.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Mrs. Thrale did it all with amazing neatness, Dr. Burney thought; and the
-      attempt that she made to conceal the expression of triumph in the glance
-      that she gave to her guests let him know that his tact had been exercised
-      in the right direction. Mrs. Thrale was not the woman to forget that he
-      had given her such a chance of proving to her friends how intimate was her
-      association with the literary history of the day. She had been for several
-      years the patroness of Dr. Johnson, who had written the best dictionary,
-      and now she was about to take under her protection Miss Burney, who had
-      written the best novel. He knew that Mrs. Thrale was almost as glad to be
-      able to reveal the secret of &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; as if she had written the book
-      herself.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And everyone else at the table felt that Mrs. Thrale was indeed an
-      amazingly clever woman; and wondered how Mrs. Cholmondeley would feel when
-      she had learned that she had been forestalled in her quest after the
-      information on which she had placed a value of twenty guineas.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XXXIV
-    </h2>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T had all come to
-      her now. She had had her dreams from time to time when working at her
-      novel&mdash;dreams of recognition&mdash;of being received on terms of
-      equality by some of the lesser literary people who had visited the house
-      in St. Martin's Street, and had gone away praising the musical talents of
-      her sisters, but leaving her unnoticed. Her aspirations had been humble,
-      but it seemed to her so stupid to be stupid in the midst of a brilliant
-      household, that she longed to be able to do something that would, at
-      least, cause their visitors of distinction to glance into her corner and
-      recognize her name when it was spoken in their hearing. That was all she
-      longed for at first&mdash;to be recognized as &ldquo;the one who writes,&rdquo; as
-      people recognized &ldquo;the one who plays.&rdquo; But since Signor Rauzzini had come
-      upon the scene her ambitions had widened. She dreamt not merely of
-      recognition, but of distinction, so that he might be proud of her, and
-      that she might not merely be spoken of as the wife of the Roman singer.
-      That dream of hers had invariably been followed by a feeling of depression
-      as she reflected upon the improbability of its ever being realized, and if
-      it should not be realized, all hope of happiness would pass from her life.
-      Thus it was that for some months she had lived with the cold finger of
-      despair constantly pressing upon her heart. She was so practical&mdash;so
-      reasonable&mdash;that she could never yield herself up to the fascination
-      of the Fool's Paradise of dreams; she was ready to estimate her chances of
-      literary success, and the result of the operation was depressing. How
-      could any young woman who had seen so little of life, and who had been so
-      imperfectly educated, have any hope to be received as a writer of
-      distinction? What claim to distinction could such a girl as she advance in
-      the face of the competition that was going on around her in every branch
-      of distinctive work?
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      For some months her good sense and her clear head were her greatest
-      enemies; evermore bringing her back to the logic of a life in which
-      everything is represented by figures, from a great artistic success to a
-      butcher's bill&mdash;a life in which dreams play a part of no greater
-      significance than the splendid colours clinging about the West in the
-      unalterable routine of the setting sun.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Many times she had awakened in the night to weep as she felt the
-      bitterness of defeat; for her book had been given to the world and the
-      world had received it as the sea receives a stone that is flung upon its
-      surface. That simile of the stone and the sea was constantly recurring to
-      her, and every time she saw that it was weak&mdash;that it fell short of
-      meeting her case, for her book had made no stir whatsoever in the world,
-      whereas a stone, however small it might be, could not be given to the sea
-      without creating some stir on the surface of the waters.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And then, quite unexpectedly, had come a whisper from the world to tell
-      her that her book had not been submerged: the whisper had increased in
-      volume until it had sounded in her ears like a shout of acclamation,
-      telling her that the reality had far surpassed her most sanguine dreams,
-      and that common-sense reasoning is sometimes farther astray in its
-      operation than are the promptings of the most unreasonable ambition.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      These were her rose-tinted reflections while driving with her father from
-      Chessington to Streatham, a journey which represented to her the passing
-      from obscurity to distinction, the crossing of the Jordan and the entering
-      into the Land of Promise.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Fanny Burney has herself told the story of her father's coming to her at
-      Chessington, and of her dear old friend's reception of the marvellous news
-      that Dr. Burney brought to him&mdash;of the phrases which she overheard
-      while the two men were in a room together&mdash;the incredulous
-      exclamations&mdash;&ldquo;Wonderful&mdash;it's wonderful!&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Why, she has
-      had very little education but what she has given herself&mdash;less than
-      any of the others&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;The variety of characters&mdash;the variety of
-      scenes, and the language&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Wonderful!&rdquo; And then Mr. Crisp's meeting
-      her, catching her by the hands as she was going in to supper, and crying,
-      &ldquo;Why, you little hussy, ain't you ashamed to look me in the face you&mdash;you
-      'Evelina,' you! Why, what a dance you have led me about it!&rdquo; Miss Burney
-      has brought the scene vividly before our eyes in her Diary.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It was one of the happiest days of her life; she saw the pride with which
-      her father regarded her, for Dr. Burney was a practical man who valued
-      achievement as it deserved, and was, besides, the best of fathers, and the
-      most anxious to advance the interests of his children. He looked with
-      pride upon his daughter, and talked of her having made Mr. Lowndes a
-      wealthy man. His estimate of her earning powers had increased: he now
-      declared that even if Lowndes had paid a thousand pounds for the book, his
-      profits off it would enable him to buy an estate!
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      It was the happiest evening of her life; and now she was in the chaise
-      with her beloved father, driving to Streatham, where they were to dine,
-      and Dr. Johnson was to be of the party. This meant more than recognition,
-      it meant the Land of Promise of her ambitious dreams.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      She had many matters to reflect upon at this time, but all her reflections
-      led to the one point&mdash;her next meeting with Rauzzini. The truth that
-      had been revealed to her among Sir Joshua Reynolds' superb canvases, that
-      love was more than all else that the world could give her, remained before
-      her, as a luminous fixed star, to be a guide to her life; and the
-      happiness that she now felt was due to the thought that she could go to
-      the man whom she loved, without a misgiving, without fearing that he would
-      hear those dreaded voices of the world saying that he had been a fool to
-      ally himself with a nonentity, or that she would hear the whispers of
-      those who might suggest that she had done very well for herself. She had
-      long before made her resolution only to go to him when she could do so on
-      terms of equality. At that time her resolution seemed to shut her out from
-      all chances of happiness; she knew this, but at the same time she believed
-      that it would shut both of them out from every chance of unhappiness; and
-      so she had allowed it to dominate her life.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      That was where her common-sense and her reasonableness had their way,
-      prevailing over that blind impulse which she now and again had, to trust
-      to chance&mdash;and love&mdash;to overcome every other consideration, and
-      to give her lover and herself happiness solely by being together. It was
-      such impulses as this that caused love to be referred to as blind. But she
-      was now ready to thank heaven for having given her strength to overcome it
-      and so to give the victory to reason and good sense.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      She made up her mind to write to him before she slept that very night,
-      telling him what her resolution had been&mdash;he had called it a mystery,
-      not knowing anything about it&mdash;and asking him to rejoice with her
-      that she had been able to maintain it, so that the barrier which she had
-      seen between them was now swept away.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Come to me&mdash;come to me&rdquo;&mdash;that would be the burden of her letter
-      to him; she would send it to him and he would come.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      The thought made her lean back among the cushions of the chaise and shut
-      her eyes, the better to enclose the vision of happiness that came from her
-      heart. He would come to her and her happiness would be complete.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      So she arrived with her father at Thrale Hall and was welcomed by Mrs.
-      Thrale in the porch. When she had made her toilet for dinner she was shown
-      into the drawing-room. As she entered, she was conscious of the presence
-      of several men, and the one nearest to her was, she saw, Signor Rauzzini.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      All the men in the room were looking toward her except Rauzzini. He was
-      standing by the side of a small table, presenting his profile to her, and
-      his eyes were gazing across the room at a picture that hung between the
-      windows, a frown on his face.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      She was startled, and the blood rushed to her cheeks. It would have done
-      so on her entering the room, even if she had not been surprised to see her
-      lover there when she believed him to be still in France.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      She had stopped before reaching the middle of the room, and then she was
-      hidden from the view of everybody by a huge mass of manhood in the person
-      of Dr. Johnson. He seemed inclined to embrace her; and as he swung himself
-      close to her, there was no one in the room that had not a moment of
-      trepidation lest he should fall over her and crush her flat.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Mrs. Thrale tripped alongside Fanny, as if ready to die with her.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Oh, come, Dr. Johnson,&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;I have no intention of allowing you
-      to monopolize Miss Burney, for that I perceive is your desire. The
-      gentlemen must be presented to her in proper form.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Madam,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;I understood clearly that Miss Burney was coming hither
-      for myself alone, and I have no mind to share so precious a morsel with
-      others. Miss Burney and I are old friends, give me leave to say; I have
-      more than once been interested in a book in the room where she was sitting
-      in her father's house. Come to my arms, Miss Burney, and we shall laugh
-      together at the jealous glances the others cast at me.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Miss Burney will sit beside you at dinner, sir, and that must suffice you
-      for the present,&rdquo; said Mrs. Thrale, taking Fanny by the hand.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But Johnson had succeeded, after more than one ineffectual attempt, in
-      grasping Miss Burney's left hand, and in his ponderous playfulness, he
-      refused to relinquish it, so that she had to make her curtsies to the
-      gentlemen with Mrs. Thrale on one side of her and Johnson on the other.
-      There was Mr. Seward and Sir Joshua Reynolds, and two others besides
-      Signor Rauzzini. Each of them had a compliment to offer her, and did so
-      very pleasantly and with great tact.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Now that is done, Miss Burney and I can sit together on the sofa, and she
-      will tell me why she loves the Scotch and I will scold her for it,&rdquo; said
-      Johnson complacently.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Nay, sir, Miss Burney has not yet greeted Signor Rauzzini,&rdquo; said Mrs.
-      Thrale. &ldquo;You and Miss Burney are already acquainted, I know, Signor
-      Rauzzini, though you did fancy that she was one of the musical girls of
-      St. Martin's Street.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Rauzzini took a single step away from the table at which he had remained
-      immovable, and bowed low, without speaking a word.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Fanny responded. They were separated by at least three yards.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Dinner is on the table, sir,&rdquo; announced a servant from the door.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I am not sorry,&rdquo; said Johnson. &ldquo;Mrs. Thrale gave me a solemn promise that
-      Miss Burney should sit next to me. That was why I kept my eye on Miss
-      Burney.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And hand too, sir,&rdquo; remarked Mr. Seward.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why, yes, sir, and hand too, if you insist,&rdquo; said Johnson. &ldquo;And let me
-      tell you, sir, that a Lichfield man will keep his hand on anything he
-      wishes to retain when another Lichfield man is in the same room.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      His laughter set the ornaments on the mantelpiece a-jingling.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And they went in to dinner before the echoes had died away.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Mrs. Thrale kept her promise, and Fanny was placed next to Johnson. But
-      even then he did not let go her hand. He held it in one of his own and
-      patted it gently with the other. Fanny glanced down the table and saw that
-      the eyes of the young Roman were looking in her direction, and that they
-      were flaming. What could he mean, she wondered. She had been at first
-      amazed at his bearing toward her in the drawing-room; but after a moment's
-      thought, she had supposed that he had assumed that distant manner to
-      prevent anyone from suspecting the intimacy there was between them. But
-      what could that angry look in his eyes portend? Was it possible that he
-      could be jealous of Dr. Johnson's awkward attention to her?
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      She was greatly troubled.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But if he had, indeed, resented Johnson's attention to her, such a plea
-      was no longer valid after the first dish had been served, for in an
-      instant Johnson's attention was transferred, with increased force, to the
-      plate before him, and during the solid part of the meal, at least, it was
-      never turned in any other direction. Poor Fanny had never seen him eat,
-      nor had she the same privilege in respect of Mr. Thrale. But she needed
-      all the encouragement that her hostess could afford her to enable her to
-      make even the most moderate meal while such distractions were in her
-      immediate neighbourhood; and she came to the conclusion that she had been
-      ridiculously fastidious over the prodigious tea and its service at Mr.
-      Barlowe's in the Poultry.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But Mrs. Thrale was as tactful and as chatty as ever, and Mr. Seward made
-      pleasant conversation for her, sitting, as he did, on the other side from
-      Johnson. When Johnson was eating, his fellow guests understood that their
-      chance was come to express their views without a dread of being
-      contradicted by him.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But from the feebleness of her contribution to the chat of the table, Mrs.
-      Thrale as well as Mr. Seward perceived that all they had been told about
-      the timidity of little Miss Burney was even less than the truth.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      But for that matter, Signor Rauzzini, who had been placed between Mrs.
-      Thrale and Dr. Burney, was found by both of them to be also singularly
-      averse from joining in the conversation, whether in reply to Burney, who
-      addressed him in Italian, or to his hostess, who spoke French to him.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      As Mrs. Thrale talked a good deal herself, however, she rose with an
-      impression that there had been no especial lack of brilliancy at the
-      table.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      She took Fanny away with her, her determination being that if she should
-      fail to draw this shy young creature out of her shell, she would at any
-      rate convince her that her hostess was deserving of the reputation which
-      she enjoyed for learning, combined with vivacity, so that their
-      companionship could not be otherwise than profitable after all.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      <br /><br />
-    </p>
-    <hr />
-    <p>
-      <a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> </a>
-    </p>
-    <div style="height: 4em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-    <h2>
-      CHAPTER XXXV
-    </h2>
-    <p class="pfirst">
-      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T was not yet six
-      o'clock and the sun was not due to set for more than another hour. The
-      evening was a lovely one. From the shrubberies around the house came the
-      liquid notes of countless blackbirds and thrushes, and above the trees of
-      the park the cawing of the rooks as they wheeled above their nests and
-      settled upon the branches.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;We shall sit on the terrace for half an hour, if you have a mind to,&rdquo;
-       said Mrs. Thrale, taking Fanny through the drawing-room into a smaller
-      room that opened upon a long terrace above the beds of the flower-garden.
-      Here were several seats and a small table bearing writing materials.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Here I do most of my correspondence in the summer,&rdquo; said Mrs. Thrale.
-      &ldquo;Sitting at that table in the open air, I have few distractions, unless I
-      choose to accept the birds as such; and here I hope you will begin a new
-      novel, or better still, a comedy that Mr. Sheridan will produce, with Mrs.
-      Abington in her most charming gowns&mdash;you must give your namesake a
-      chance of wearing a whole trunkful of gowns.&rdquo; They seated themselves, and
-      Mrs. Thrale continued:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Now I have confided in you how I do my simple work, and I wish to hear
-      from you by what means you found time to write your novel. That is the
-      greatest secret of all associated with 'Evelina'&mdash;so your father
-      thinks. Mrs. Burney I always knew as a model housekeeper&mdash;a model
-      manager of a family, and how you could contrive to write a single page
-      without her knowledge is what baffles me as well as your father.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;To tell you all would, I fear, be to confess to a lifetime of duplicity,&rdquo;
-       said Fanny. &ldquo;I am sometimes shocked now when I reflect upon my
-      double-dealing.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Tell me how you first came to stray from the paths of virtue&mdash;such a
-      story is invariably interesting,&rdquo; said Mrs. Thrale.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;My story is like all the others,&rdquo; replied Fanny. &ldquo;I only meant to turn
-      aside a little way, but soon I lost myself and I knew that there was no
-      retracing my steps.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Alas, alas, the old story!&rdquo; said Mrs. Thrale, with a long-drawn sigh.
-      &ldquo;Well, happily, you were not able to retrace your steps.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I had no idea that the story would grow upon me as it did,&rdquo; said Fanny.
-      &ldquo;I really only meant it to be a diversion for our dear friend, Mr. Crisp,
-      and an exercise for myself. I wrote a scrap now and again at odd moments&mdash;when
-      I was supposed to be writing to Mr. Crisp, or copying out my father's
-      notes for his History, at home as well as at Ches-sington, and when I was
-      staying at Lynn; and so the thing grew and grew until I was afraid to look
-      at what I had perpetrated.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;You are paraphrasing <i>Macbeth</i>, my dear: 'I am afeared to think what
-      I have done: Look on't again I dare not,'&rdquo; said the elder lady. &ldquo;But with
-      all you were able to prepare your father's great work for the press&mdash;he
-      told me as much; so that what your double-dealing comes to is that you did
-      his writing as well as your own, and at the same time neglected none of
-      your ordinary household duties&mdash;if you had done so Mrs. Burney would
-      have informed you of it, I have no doubt. An excellent housewife, Mrs.
-      Burney! And now you shall tell me how you contrived to bring together so
-      marvellous a group of characters&mdash;you who have lived so short a time
-      in the world, and had so small an amount of experience.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I should like someone to answer that question for me,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;It
-      was not until I read the book in print that I began to be surprised at it,
-      and to wonder how it came to be written and how those characters had found
-      their way into it.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      But this question was too interesting a one not to be pursued by Mrs.
-      Thrale; and for half an hour she put inquiry after inquiry to Fanny
-      respecting the characters, the incidents and the language of &ldquo;Evelina.&rdquo;
-       Mrs. Thrale was certainly determined to place herself in a position to
-      prove to her friends that Miss Burney had made a <i>confidante</i> of her
-      in all matters, down to the smallest detail of the book.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      In ordinary circumstances Fanny would have been delighted to give her her
-      confidence in regard to these particulars&mdash;she had always a childlike
-      pleasure in talking about her books&mdash;but at this time she only did so
-      with a great effort. For while Mrs. Thrale was plying her with questions
-      about &ldquo;Evelina,&rdquo; there was ever before Fanny the unanswered question as to
-      what Rauzzini meant by his coldness and formality both before dinner and
-      during that meal. What did he mean by looking at her with that reproachful
-      frown upon his face? What did he mean by averting his eyes from her when
-      he had a chance of exchanging confidences with her, as he had often done
-      before? What did he mean by sitting at the table without addressing a
-      single word to her?
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      These were the questions which she was struggling in vain to answer to her
-      own satisfaction all the time that Mrs. Thrale was putting inquiry after
-      inquiry to her upon a matter that Fanny now regarded as insignificant
-      compared with the one that she was trying to answer for herself.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Mrs. Thrale was just beginning a series of questions on the subject of the
-      comedy which she meant Miss Burney to write, when a servant appeared with
-      a message for the former.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Tiresome!&rdquo; exclaimed Fanny's hostess, rising. &ldquo;Here is some insignificant
-      household matter that can only be dealt with by the mistress&mdash;summer
-      frocks for two girls: the carrier has brought some boxes&mdash;the summer
-      has come upon us before spring has prepared us for its arrival, and there
-      has been a despairing cry heard in the nursery. I need not excuse myself
-      to you, Miss Burney. You will spare me for ten minutes.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Miss Burney hoped that the feeling of relief of which she was conscious
-      did not show itself on her face, when she expressed the hope that Mrs.
-      Thrale would not think of her; she would be quite happy with the birds.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And the comedy&mdash;do not forget the comedy.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Miss Burney laughed, but before her hostess had reached the door leading
-      off the terrace, she was once more immersed in that question:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;What does he mean by his change of attitude in regard to me?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      It was serious&mdash;so much she knew. He had heard something that had
-      caused him to change. But what could he have heard? What manner of man was
-      he that would allow himself to be so influenced by anything that he might
-      hear against her, without first coming to her for an explanation?
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Her mind went back to the evening when they had first met. It was in St.
-      Martin's Street. He was there on the invitation of Dr. Burney: but it
-      seemed that he had become conscious of a sympathy existing between her and
-      himself, for he had remained by her side for a full hour while the others
-      in the room were singing and playing on the piano, and he had held her
-      hand at parting, expressing the hope, which his eyes confirmed, that they
-      would soon meet again.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      And they had met again and again until one evening they found themselves
-      alone in an anteroom to the apartment where a musical programme was being
-      performed at a great house. Then he had told her that his happiness
-      depended on her returning the love which he bore her; and startled though
-      she had been, yet when he took her hand all her shyness seemed to vanish
-      and she confessed....
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      A sound behind her only served to make her memory seem more vivid, for it
-      was his voice that reached her ear and it was singing the same aria that
-      he had come from singing on that evening&mdash;the passionate &ldquo;<i>Lascia
-      ch'io pianga</i>&rdquo; of Handel. Once more she was listening to the strains&mdash;they
-      came from one of the rooms that opened upon the terrace&mdash;and now the
-      chords of the accompaniment were struck with a vehemence that had been
-      absent from her father's playing to Rauzzini's singing upon that occasion.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      She listened as if in a dream while the noble, despairing strain went on
-      to its close, and the melody sobbed itself into silence&mdash;a silence
-      that the birds among the roses seemed unwilling to break, for only an
-      occasional note of a thrush was in the air....
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      She heard the sound of the door opening a little way down the terrace&mdash;of
-      a foot upon the flagged path. She did not raise her head, but she knew
-      that he was there&mdash;only a few yards away from her.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Through the silence there came the cawing of rooks far away among the
-      trees of the park.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Then all at once she heard his sudden exclamation of surprise. He had not
-      seen her at first; he saw her now.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;<i>Dio mio! ella è qui!</i>&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Still she did not turn her head toward him. More than a minute had passed
-      before she heard his slow steps as he approached her. He was beside her
-      for quite as long before he spoke.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I did not know that you were here,&rdquo; he said in a low voice. &ldquo;But I am
-      glad. It is but right that I should say good-bye to you alone.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      Then she looked up.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Why&mdash;why&mdash;why?&rdquo; she cried almost piteously. &ldquo;Why should you say
-      good-bye? What has made the change in you?&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It is not I who have changed: it is you,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;I loved the sweet,
-      modest, untarnished jewel of a girl&mdash;a pearl hidden away from the
-      sight of men in a dim sea-cave&mdash;a violet&mdash;ah, I told you how I
-      loved the violet that hides itself from every eye&mdash;that was what you
-      were when I loved you, and I hoped to return to your side and find you the
-      same. Well, I return and&mdash;ah, where is the exquisite shrinking one
-      that I looked for? Gone&mdash;gone&mdash;gone for ever, and in her place I
-      find one whose name is in every mouth&mdash;not a soft, gentle girl, but a
-      woman who has put her heart into a book&mdash;<i>Dio mio!</i> A woman who
-      puts her heart into a book is like a woman who disrobes in a public place&mdash;worse&mdash;worse&mdash;she
-      exposes a heart that should be sacred&mdash;feelings that it would be a
-      gross indelicacy to exhibit to the eyes of man!&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And that is how you think of me on account of what I have done?&rdquo; said
-      she.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;How can I think anything else?&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;I told you that I loved you
-      because you were so unlike others&mdash;because you were like a child for
-      timidity and innocence of the world. I told you on that last evening we
-      were together how greatly I admired the act of Miss Linley in turning her
-      back upon the platform where she had sung and vowing never to return to it&mdash;that
-      was what I told you I loved&mdash;I who have seen how the nature&mdash;the
-      womanly charm of every woman suffers by reason of her appealing to the
-      public for money&mdash;for applause. That beautiful creature forsook the
-      platform before it was too late&mdash;before the evil influence could work
-      her ruin. But you&mdash;what do I hear the day I return to England?&mdash;you
-      have put your heart&mdash;your soul, into a book that causes your name to
-      be tossed about from mouth to mouth&mdash;Fanny Burney&mdash;Fanny Burney&mdash;Fanny
-      Burney&mdash;I hear that name, which I regarded as sacred, spoken as
-      freely as men speak the name of their Kitty Fisher&mdash;their Polly
-      Kennedy&mdash;their Fanny Abington! These are public characters&mdash;so
-      are you&mdash;oh, my God! so are you. You should have heard how you were
-      discussed in that room behind us before you arrived to-day&mdash;that
-      gross man Johnson&mdash;he called you by a dozen pet names as if he had a
-      right&mdash;'Fan'&mdash;'Fannikin'&mdash;I know not what&mdash;' a shy
-      rogue '&mdash;that was another! They laughed! They did not see the
-      degradation of it. You were a toy of the public&mdash;the vulgar crowd!
-      Ah, you saw how that gross man, who fed himself as a wolf, tucked you
-      under his arm and the others only smiled! Oh, I was shocked&mdash;shocked!&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;And I felt proud&mdash;prouder than I have felt in my life,&rdquo; said she.
-      &ldquo;But now I see what I have lost&mdash;forfeited. Listen to me and I will
-      tell you what my dream was. I had written that book, but I had no hope of
-      printing it until I met you and heard from your lips&mdash;all that I
-      heard.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;It was the truth&mdash;then: I loved you&mdash;then.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I knew that it was the truth. But who was I that I should be beloved by
-      you? I felt that it would be unendurable to me to hear people refer to us&mdash;as
-      I knew they would&mdash;the great singer who had stooped to a nonentity.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Ah! that was the charm!&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Who except you would have said so? I knew what they would say, and I made
-      up my mind that I would not go to you except as an equal. I wanted you to
-      marry someone of whom you would feel proud, and I thought that I had a
-      little gift which I would lay at your feet. I did my best to perfect it
-      for your sake; but even when the book was printed I would not give you my
-      promise until I had assured myself that the gift would be pronounced
-      worthy of your acceptance. That was why I put you off for so many months.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Ah, that was your mystery&mdash;you called it a mystery.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;That was my secret&mdash;my mystery. Never mind; I thought that my hope
-      was realized when everyone about me was talking of the book and when
-      people whose opinion was valuable had said it was good&mdash;my one
-      thought, God knows, was that I could go to you&mdash;that I could make you
-      happy, since I should be thought by the world to be in some measure at
-      least, worthy of you.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;My poor child! you have not made me happy, but miserable. No one can make
-      me happy now. I do not love you now&mdash;you are a different person now,
-      and you can never return to be what you were. That is the worst of all:
-      you can never return to your former innocence.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I can bear to hear you say even that; for now I perceive the mistake I
-      made. I should not have thought of the difference between us: I should
-      only have had one thought&mdash;that you had offered me your love and that
-      I was ready to offer you my love. That should have been enough for me. You
-      were right, I was wrong. Good-bye.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      He looked at her for a few moments&mdash;tears were in his eyes and on his
-      cheeks&mdash;then he turned away with a passionate gesture, crying in his
-      native tongue:
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Mother&mdash;mother in heaven! I loved her because she was of a nature
-      the same as yours&mdash;saint-like as a lily&mdash;shrinking from the
-      world&mdash;in the world but having nothing in common with the world. I
-      loved her because I thought that she was as you were. I will not be a
-      traitor to your ideal&mdash;to your memory.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      He returned to her.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I am alone in the world; but I know that the spirit of that saint, my
-      mother, looks down upon me from her heaven, and will comfort me. My heart
-      is broken. <i>Addio! Addio!</i> I do not mean to be cruel&mdash;tell me
-      that you do not accuse me of being cruel!&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;I do not accuse you. I think I understand you&mdash;that is all.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;<i>Addio&mdash;addio&mdash;addio!</i>&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      The sound of his voice grew less with every word.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      She was alone in the silence of the twilight.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      Not for long, however. She heard the voice of Mrs. Thrale in the room
-      behind her, followed by the protests of Dr. Johnson.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Miss Burney and I want to have an undisturbed talk together about writing
-      books,&rdquo; Mrs. Thrale was saying as she came out upon the terrace.
-    </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;Books, madam; any fool can talk of books, and a good many fools avail
-      themselves of the licence,&rdquo; cried Johnson. &ldquo;Miss Burney and I are going to
-      talk about life. Books are not life, Miss Burney.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <p>
-      &ldquo;No, sir,&rdquo; said Miss Burney slowly; &ldquo;books are not life&mdash;books are
-      not life.&rdquo;
-     </p>
-    <h3>
-      THE END
-    </h3>
-    <div style="height: 6em;">
-      <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
-    </div>
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-<pre>
-
-
-
-
-
-End of Project Gutenberg's Fanny's First Novel, by Frank Frankfort Moore
-
-*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FANNY'S FIRST NOVEL ***
-
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+   "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" >
+
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en">
+  <head>
+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" />
+    <title>
+      Fanny's First Novel, by Frank Frankfort Moore.
+    </title>
+    <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" />
+    <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve">
+
+    body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify}
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+    hr  { width: 50%; text-align: center;}
+    .foot { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; text-align: justify; font-size: 80%; font-style: italic;}
+    blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;}
+    .mynote    {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;}
+    .toc       { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;}
+    .toc2      { margin-left: 20%;}
+    .xx-small {font-size: 60%;}
+    .x-small {font-size: 75%;}
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+    .head      { float: left; font-size: 90%; width: 98%; padding-left: 0.8em;
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+    pre        { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;}
+
+</style>
+  </head>
+  <body>
+<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 51922 ***</div>
+
+    <div style="height: 8em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h1>
+      FANNY'S FIRST NOVEL
+    </h1>
+    <h2>
+      By Frank Frankfort Moore.
+    </h2>
+    <h4>
+      Author of &ldquo;The Jessamy Bride,&rdquo; &ldquo;A Nest of Linnets,&rdquo; &ldquo;I Forbid the 'Banns,&rdquo;
+       Etc.
+    </h4>
+    <h4>
+      London: Hutchinson &amp; Co. Paternoster Row, E. C.
+    </h4>
+    <h3>
+      1913
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
+      <img src="images/0001.jpg" alt="0001 " width="100%" /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h5>
+      <a href="images/0001.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
+    </h5>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
+      <img src="images/0009.jpg" alt="0009 " width="100%" /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h5>
+      <a href="images/0009.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
+    </h5>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <b>CONTENTS</b>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>FANNY'S FIRST NOVEL</b> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXXII </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER XXXIII </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0034"> CHAPTER XXXIV </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0035"> CHAPTER XXXV </a>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h1>
+      <i>FANNY'S FIRST NOVEL</i>
+    </h1>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER I
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>NDEED, I am not
+      quite assured in my mind that the influence of Mr. Garrick upon such a
+      family as ours is healthy,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney, when the breakfast cups had
+      been removed and the maid had left the room in the little house in St.
+      Martin's Street, off Leicester Fields. Dr. Burney, the music-master, had
+      not to hurry away this day: his first lesson did not begin until noon; it
+      was to be given at the mansion of Mr. Thrale, the brewer, at Streatham,
+      and the carriage was not to call for him for another hour. He was glancing
+      at the <i>Advertiser</i> in unaccustomed indolence, but when his wife had
+      spoken he glanced up from the paper and an expression of amused surprise
+      was upon his face. His daughter Fanny glanced up from the work-basket
+      which her mother had placed ready for her the moment that the
+      breakfast-table had been cleared, and the expression upon little Miss
+      Burney's face was one that had something of fright in it. She was too
+      short-sighted to see the wink which her brother James, lieutenant in His
+      Majesty's navy, gave her, for their stepmother had her back turned to him.
+      But Mrs. Burney, without seeing him, knew that, as he himself would phrase
+      it, he had tipped Fanny a wink. She turned quickly round upon him, and if
+      she had previously any doubt on this point, it was at once dispelled by
+      the solemnity of his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Burney gave a laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The influence of Mr. Garrick is like that of the air we breathe,&rdquo; said
+      he. &ldquo;It is not to be resisted by the age we live in, leaving family
+      matters out of the question altogether: the Burney family must inhale as
+      much of the spirit of Mr. Garrick as the rest of the town-they cannot help
+      themselves, <i>ces pauvres Burneys!</i> they cannot live without Mr.
+      Garrick.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Burney shook her head solemnly; so did Lieutenant James Burney, for
+      he had all his life been under the influence of Mr. Garrick, when the
+      atmosphere brought by Mr. Garrick was one of comedy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My meaning is that Mr. Garrick is not content to allow simple people such
+      as ourselves to live as simple people,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;I protest that
+      I have felt it: the moment he enters our house we seem to be in a new
+      world-whatsoever world it is his whim to carry us to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is the truth, my dear-he can do what he pleases with us and with all
+      the thousands who have flocked to his playhouse since his Goodman's Fields
+      days&mdash;he has made a fortune as a courier; transporting people to
+      another world for an hour or two every night&mdash;a world that is less
+      humdrum than this in which four beats go to every bar and every crotchet
+      goes to a beat! Dear soul! he has made our hearts beat at times beyond all
+      computation of time and space.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will herring-bone the edges neatly, Fanny: I noticed some lack of
+      neatness in the last of the napery that left your hand, my dear,&rdquo; said
+      Mrs. Burney, bending over her stepdaughter at her work-basket; and,
+      indeed, it seemed that the caution was not unnecessary, for Fanny's eyes
+      were gleaming and she was handling her work with as great indifference
+      (for the moment) as though she esteemed plain sewing something of drudgery
+      rather than a delight. And now, having administered her timely caution,
+      the good lady turned to her husband, saying:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To my mind what you have claimed for Mr. Garrick but adds emphasis to my
+      contention that his visits have a disturbing influence upon a homely
+      family, taking them out of themselves, so to speak, and transporting them
+      far beyond the useful work of their daily life. I have noticed with pain
+      for some time past that Fanny's heart has not been in her work: her
+      cross-stitch has been wellnigh slovenly, and her herring-boning has really
+      been indifferent&mdash;I say it with sorrow; but dear Fanny is too good a
+      girl to take offence at my strictures, which she knows are honest and
+      meant for her good.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Madam,&rdquo; said Lieutenant Burney, &ldquo;I pray you to give me leave to bear you
+      out; but at the same time to make excuses for Fan. I must do so in justice
+      to her, for the blame rests with me so far as the herring-boning is
+      concerned. I confess, with tears in my eyes, that 'twas I who provided her
+      with the last models for her herring-boning; and 'twas surely some demon
+      in my breast that prompted me to substitute the skeleton of one of the
+      South Sea fishes which I hooked when becalmed with Captain Cook within
+      sight of Otaheite, for the true herring whose backbone is a model of
+      regularity to be followed by all workers with the needle, when deprived of
+      the flesh, which is the staple fare of hundreds of honest families and,
+      while nourishing them amply, prevents their thoughts from carrying them
+      beyond the region pervaded by the smell of their cooking.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That were a wide enough area upon occasions for the most ambitious of
+      thinkers,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney, controlling his features, seeing that his wife
+      took the ward-room humour of his son with dreadful seriousness. He made a
+      sign to James to go no further&mdash;but James had gone round the world
+      once, and he was not to be checked in a humbler excursion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, madam, 'tis my duty to confess that Fanny's model was the
+      flying-fish, and not the simple Channel herring, hence the failure to
+      achieve the beautiful regularity of design which exists in the backbone of
+      the latter from the figurehead to the stern, larboard sloping in one
+      direction and starboard in the other. If anyone be culpable 'tis myself,
+      not Fanny; but I throw myself on your mercy, and only implore that the
+      herring-boning of my sister will not result in a whaling for me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Burney looked seriously from her brother to Fanny, and getting no cue
+      from either, began:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Tis indeed honourable for you to endeavour by your confession to excuse
+      the fault of your sister, James&mdash;&mdash;-&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The traditions of the service, madam&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; began the lieutenant,
+      laying his hand on his heart; but he got no further, for Fanny could
+      restrain herself no longer; she burst into a laugh and dropped her work,
+      and her father rose, holding up his hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The jest has gone far enough, James,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;We sleep in beds in this
+      house and do not swing in hammocks. Keep your deep-sea jests until you are
+      out of soundings, if it please you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I ask your pardon, sir,&rdquo; said James; &ldquo;but i' faith there's many a true
+      word said in jest; and it seems to me that there's a moral in the parable
+      of the young woman who took the flying-fish of the South Seas for her
+      model rather than the herring of the three-fathom coast-line of the
+      Channel; and that moral touches close upon the complaint made by our good
+      mother against Mr. Garrick.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let it be so,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney, who was a clever enough woman to
+      perceive that it would be unwise to make a grievance of the impudence of a
+      young naval gentleman. &ldquo;Let it be so; let it be that we are simple,
+      homely, wholesome herrings, we are none the better for such a flying-fish
+      as Mr. Garrick coming among us, giving us, it may be, the notion that our
+      poor fins are wings, and so urging us to make fools of ourselves by
+      emulating the eagle. The moral of your fable is that we should keep to our
+      own element&mdash;is not that so, sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I' faith, madam, I am not sure but that 'tis so, and I haul down my
+      colours to you, and feel no dishonour in the act,&rdquo; cried James. &ldquo;Lord,
+      where should we all be to-day if it were not for the good women who hold
+      fast to the old traditions of the distaff and needle? They are the women
+      who do more for the happiness of men than all who pass their time dipping
+      quills in ink-horns or daubing paint upon good canvas that might with luck
+      be hung from a stunsail boom and add another knot to the log of a frigate
+      of seventy-two! Is there anyone who dines at the table of Sir Joshua
+      Reynolds round the corner that does not wish with all his heart that his
+      sister would sell her palette and buy a wine-glass or two with the
+      proceeds? Why, when we went to dinner at Sir Joshua's yesterday there were
+      not enough glasses to go round the table.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There never are&mdash;that is well known,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, nay; let us take to ourselves the reproof of Dr. Johnson to Mr.
+      Boswell when he complained, loud enough almost for Sir Joshua himself to
+      hear him, about the scarcity of service. 'Sir,' said Dr. Johnson, 'some
+      who have the privilege of sitting at this table, and you are one of them,
+      sir, will be wiser if they keep their ears open and their mouths shut than
+      they would if they had the means of drinking all that you are longing to
+      drink.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Boswell, in spite of the reproof, contrived to lurch from the table
+      with more wine than wisdom 'tween decks,&rdquo; remarked James.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He must have found a wine-glass,&rdquo; said Miss Susy Burney, who had been
+      quite silent but quite attentive to every word that had been spoken since
+      breakfast-time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And so the honour of Mrs. Reynolds's housekeeping is saved,&rdquo; said Dr.
+      Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, sir, is not Mr. Boswell a Scotsman?&rdquo; cried the irrepressible James.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is his lifelong sorrow, since he fancies it to be an insuperable
+      barrier between his idol, Dr. Johnson, and himself,&rdquo; replied his father.
+      &ldquo;But how does his Scotsmanship bear upon the wine-glass question?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, sir, without being versed in the subtleties of theology I make bold
+      to think that Father Adam did not suffer hunger until knives and forks
+      were invented,&rdquo; said James. &ldquo;Your drouthy Scot will drink straight from
+      the bottle if no beaker be at hand. Oh, why was not Mr. Garrick at Sir
+      Joshua's to rouse our spirits by his imitation of Mr. Boswell seeking for
+      a wine-glass&mdash;and after?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Boswell is too trivial a subject for Davy: I have seen him take off
+      Dr. Johnson mixing a bowl of punch until I was like to die of laughter. I
+      protest that when he came to the squeezing of the imaginary lemon, while
+      he cried out in the Doctor's broadest Lichfield, 'Who's for poonch?' I
+      could smell the acid juice,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney, and he laughed at the
+      recollection of Garrick's fooling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The naval man gave a resounding nautical smack to his thigh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is what 'tis to be a sailor,&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;I have had no chance of
+      seeing Mr. Garrick at his best. I should dearly like to hear him take off
+      Mr. Boswell when three sheets in the wind. Why was he not with us
+      yesterday?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Garrick himself has had a drinking bout on. He has been at the Wells
+      for the past fortnight,&rdquo; said his father.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>Ecce signum!</i>&rdquo; came a doleful voice from the door, and a little man
+      slowly put round the jamb a face bearing such an expression of piteous
+      nausea as caused everyone in the room&mdash;not even excepting Mrs. Burney&mdash;to
+      roar with laughter&mdash;uncontrollable laughter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the expression on the little man's face changed to one of surprised
+      indignation. He crept into the room and looked at every person therein
+      with a different expression on his face for each&mdash;a variation of his
+      original expression of disgust and disappointment mingled with doleful
+      reproof. It seemed as if it was not a single person who had entered the
+      room, but half a dozen persons&mdash;a whole doleful and disappointed
+      family coming upon an unsympathetic crew convulsed with hilarity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then he shook his head sadly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And these are the people who have just heard that I have been taking the
+      nauseous waters of Tunbridge Wells for a whole fortnight,&rdquo; and there was a
+      break in his voice. &ldquo;Oh, Friendship, art thou but a name? Oh, Sympathy,
+      art thou but a mask? Is the world of sentiment nothing more than a world
+      of shadows? Have all the sweet springs of compassion dried up, leaving us
+      nothing but the cataracts of chalybeate to nauseate the palate?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked round once more, and putting the tips of his fingers together,
+      glanced sadly up to the ceiling, then sighed and turned as if to leave the
+      room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, sir,&rdquo; cried Dr. Burney, &ldquo;I do not believe that the chalybeate
+      cataracts still flow: 'tis my firm belief, from the expression of your
+      face, that you have swallowed the whole spring&mdash;the Wells of
+      Tunbridge must have been dried up by you before you left&mdash;your face
+      betrays you. I vow that so chalybeate an expression could not be attained
+      by lesser means.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sir, you do me honour, and you have a larger faith in me than my own
+      physician,&rdquo; said the little man, brightening up somewhat. &ldquo;Would you
+      believe that he had the effrontery to accuse me of shirking the hourly
+      pailful that he prescribed for me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He had not seen you as we have, Mr. Garrick,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He accused me of spending my days making matches and making mischief in
+      the Assembly Rooms and only taking the waters by sips&mdash;me, sir, that
+      have so vivid a memory of Mr. Pope's immortal lines:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br />
+    </p>
+    <p class="indent15">
+      A little sipping is a dangerous tiling,
+    </p>
+    <p class="indent15">
+      Drink deep or taste not the chalybeate spring!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You were traduced, my friend&mdash;but tell us of the matches and the
+      mischief and we shall be the more firmly convinced of your integrity.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, sir; I give you my word that 'twas but the simplest of matches&mdash;not
+      by any means of the sort that yonder desperado fresh from the South Seas
+      applies to the touch-hole of one of his horrible ten-pounders when the
+      enemy's frigate has to be sunk&mdash;nay, a simple little match with no
+      more powder for it to burn than may be found on the wig of a gentleman of
+      fifty-two and on the face of a lady of forty-five&mdash;the one a gay
+      bachelor, t'other a ripe widow&mdash;' made for one another,' said I; and
+      where was the mischief in that? And if I ventured to broach the subject of
+      the appropriateness of the union of the twain, and to boast under the
+      inspiring influence of the chalybeate spring that I could bring it about,
+      is there anyone that will hint that I was not acting out of pure good
+      nature and a desire to make two worthy folk happy&mdash;as happy as
+      marriage can make any two&mdash;&mdash;-&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Give us their names, sir, and let us judge on that basis,&rdquo; said Dr.
+      Bumey.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have no desire to withhold them, my dear Doctor; for I want you to back
+      me up, and I am sure that&mdash;oh, Lord! here comes the man himself. For
+      the love of heaven, back me up, Doctor, and all will be well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, I will not be dragged by the hair of the head into any of your
+      plots, my friend,&rdquo; cried Burney. &ldquo;Nay, not I. I have some reputation to
+      maintain, good friend Garrick; you must play alone the part of Puck that
+      you have chosen for yourself this many a year. Think not that you will
+      induce me to study the character under you, and so thus&mdash;&mdash;-&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The manservant threw open the door of the room, announcing:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Kendal to wait upon you, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But by the time a small and rather rotund gentleman had been ushered into
+      the room, Mr. Garrick was apparently engaged in an animated conversation
+      with Miss Burney on the subject of the table-cover at which she was
+      working.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER II
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE visitor walked
+      with the short strut of the man who at least does not underrate his own
+      importance in the world. But he suggested just at the moment the man who
+      is extremely nervous lest he may not appear perfectly selfpossessed. There
+      was an air of bustle about him as he strutted into the room, saying:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dr. Burney, I am your servant, sir. I have done myself the honour to
+      visit you on a rather important piece of business.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sir, you have conferred honour upon me,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the gentleman seemed to become aware for the first time that there
+      were other people in the room; but it was with an air of reluctance that
+      he felt called on to greet the others.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mrs. Burney, I think,&rdquo; he said, bowing to that lady, &ldquo;and her estimable
+      family, I doubt not. Have I not had the privilege of meeting Mrs. Burney
+      at the house of&mdash;of my friend&mdash;my esteemed friend, Mrs. Barlowe?
+      And this gentleman of the Fleet&mdash;ha, to be sure I have heard that
+      there was a Lieutenant Burney of the Navy! And&mdash;gracious heavens! Mr.
+      Garrick!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Garrick had revealed himself from the recesses of Miss Burney's
+      work-basket. He, at any rate, was sufficiently self-possessed to pretend
+      to be vastly surprised. He raised both his hands, crying:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it possible that this is Mr. Kendal? But surely I left you at the
+      Wells no later than&mdash;now was it not the night before last? You were
+      the cynosure of the Assembly Rooms, sir, if I may make bold to say so. But
+      I could not look for you to pay attention to a poor actor when you were
+      receiving the attentions of the young, and, may I add without offence, the
+      fair? But no, sir; you will not find that I am the one to tell tales out
+      of school, though I doubt not you have received the congratulations of&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There you go, sir, just the same as the rest of them!&rdquo; cried the visitor.
+      &ldquo;Congratulations! felicitations! smiles of deep meaning from the ladies,
+      digs in the ribs with suggestive winks from the gentlemen&mdash;people
+      whose names I could not recall&mdash;whom I'll swear I had never spoken to
+      in my life&mdash;that is why I left the Wells as hastily as if a tipstaff
+      had been after me&mdash;that is why I am here this morning, after posting
+      every inch of the way, to consult Dr. Burney as to my position.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I protest, sir, that I do not quite take you,&rdquo; said Mr. Garrick, with the
+      most puzzled expression on his face that ever man wore. &ldquo;Surely, sir, your
+      position as a man of honour is the most enviable one possible to imagine!
+      Mrs. Nash&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There you blurt out the name, Mr. Garrick, and that is what I had no
+      intention of doing, even when laying my case before Dr. Burney, who is a
+      man of the world, and whom I trust to advise me what course I should
+      pursue.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I ask your pardon, sir,&rdquo; said Mr. Garrick humbly; &ldquo;but if the course you
+      mean to pursue has aught to do with the pursuit of so charming a lady, and
+      a widow to boot&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How in the name of all that's reasonable did that gossip get about?&rdquo;
+       cried the visitor. &ldquo;I give you my word that I have not been pursuing the
+      lady&mdash;I met her at the Wells for the first time a fortnight ago&mdash;pursuit
+      indeed!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, sir, I did not suggest that the pursuit was on your part,&rdquo; said
+      Garrick in a tone of irresistible flattery. &ldquo;But 'tis well known that as
+      an object of pursuit of the fair ones, the name of Mr. Kendal has been for
+      ten years past acknowledged without a peer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The gentleman held up a deprecating hand, but the smile that was on his
+      face more than neutralized his suggestion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, Mr. Garrick, I am but a simple country gentleman,&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;To be
+      sure, I have been singled out more than once for favours that might have
+      turned the head of an ordinary mortal&mdash;one of them had a fortune and
+      was the toast of the district; another&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you will excuse me, gentlemen, the Miss Burneys and myself will take
+      our leave of you: we have household matters in our hands,&rdquo; said Mrs.
+      Burney, making a sign to Fanny and her sister, and going toward the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have I said too much, madam? If so, I pray of you to keep my secret,&rdquo;
+       cried the visitor. &ldquo;The truth is that I have confidence in the advice of
+      Dr. Burney as a man of the world.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I fear that to be a man of the world is to be of the flesh and the devil
+      as well,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Augmented qualifications for giving advice on an affair of the Wells,&rdquo;
+       said Garrick slyly to the naval lieutenant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will not forget, Doctor, that Mr. Thrale's carriage is appointed to
+      call for you within the hour,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney over her shoulder as she
+      left the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny and her sister were able to restrain themselves for the few minutes
+      necessary to fly up the narrow stairs, but the droll glance that Mr.
+      Garrick had given them as they followed their mother, wellnigh made them
+      disgrace themselves by bursting out within the hearing of their father's
+      visitor. But when they reached the parlour at the head of the stairs and
+      had thrown themselves in a paroxysm of laughter on the sofa, Mrs. Burney
+      reproved them with some gravity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is an instance, if one were needed, of the unsettling influence of
+      Mr. Garrick,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;He has plainly been making a fool of that
+      conceited gentleman, and it seems quite likely that he will persuade your
+      father to back him up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not think that Mr. Garrick could improve greatly upon Nature's
+      handiwork in regard to that poor Mr. Kendal,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;But what would
+      life be without Mr. Garrick?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It would be more real, I trust,&rdquo; said her stepmother. &ldquo;He would have us
+      believe that life is a comedy, and that human beings are like the puppets
+      which Mr. Foote put on his stage for the diversion of the town a few years
+      ago.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny Burney became grave; the longer she was living in the world, the
+      more impressed was she becoming with the idea that life was a puppet-show;
+      only when the puppets began to dance on their wires in a draught of wind
+      from another world the real comedy began. She felt that as an interpreter
+      of life Mr. Garrick had no equal on the stage or off. On the stage he
+      could do no more than interpret other people's notions of life, and these,
+      except in the case of Shakespeare, were, she thought, mostly feeble; but
+      when he was off the stage&mdash;well, Sir Joshua Reynolds had told her
+      what that queer person, Dr. Goldsmith, had written about Garrick&mdash;the
+      truest criticism Garrick had ever received: &ldquo;'Twas only that when he was
+      off he was acting.&rdquo; She knew what she herself owed to Garrick from the
+      time she was nine years old, when he had accustomed her and her sister to
+      look for him at their house almost daily; she knew that whatever sense of
+      comedy she possessed&mdash;and she looked on it as a precious possession&mdash;was
+      to be attributed to the visits of Garrick. Every time she looked at her
+      carefully locked desk in that room at the top of the house in St. Martin's
+      Street, which had once been Sir Isaac Newton's observatory, she felt that
+      without the tuition in comedy that she had received at the hands of Mr.
+      Garrick, the contents of that desk would have been very different. Her
+      stepmother, however, had no information on this point; she had lived all
+      her life among the good tradespeople of Lynn, and had known nothing of Mr.
+      Garrick until Dr. Burney had married her and brought her to look after his
+      children, which Fanny knew she had done faithfully, according to her
+      lights, in London.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny kept silent on the subject of Mr. Garrick's fooling, while Mrs.
+      Burney bent with great gravity over the cutting out of a pinafore for
+      Fanny's little niece&mdash;also a Burney; and every now and again there
+      came from the closed room downstairs the sound of the insisting voice of
+      the visitor. She hoped that Mr. Garrick would re-enact the scene for her;
+      she had confidence that it would lose nothing by its being re-enacted by
+      Mr. Garrick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER III
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> SUPPOSE that I
+      must e'en follow in the wake of the womenkind,&rdquo; said Lieutenant Burney,
+      making an extremely slow move in the direction of the door, when the door
+      had been closed upon his stepmother and his sisters.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is there any need?&rdquo; asked Garrick. &ldquo;It seems to me that in such a case as
+      this which Mr. Kendal promises to propound to your father, His Majesty's
+      Navy should be represented. In all matters bearing upon a delicate <i>affaire
+      de cour</i> surely a naval man should be present to act as assessor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      'Mr. Kendal looked puzzled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I fail to take your meaning, sir,&rdquo; said he, after a pause; he was still
+      rubbing his chin with a fore-finger, when Garrick cried:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, sir, surely the advantage of the counsel of an officer trained to
+      navigate femininity in the shape of a ship, is apparent: a ship, even
+      though a three-decker ready to fire a broadside of a hundred guns, is
+      invariably alluded to as 'she,'&rdquo; said he, airily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Such an one must surely be the most formidable piece of femininity in the
+      world,&rdquo; said Mr. Kendal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By no means,&rdquo; said Garrick. &ldquo;During my career as the manager of a
+      playhouse I have had to face worse. Still, the training of a naval officer
+      in dealing with feminine craft&mdash;at times off a lee shore, and often
+      during a storm at sea&mdash;nothing to be compared to the tempests in our
+      green-room&mdash;is certain to be of value. You will stay, Lieutenant
+      Burney, if it please you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should be most unwilling to obtrude upon your council, sir,&rdquo; said young
+      Burney, &ldquo;unless you are convinced that my humble services&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have been among the savages of the South Seas, and you are acquainted
+      with all the rules of chasing and capturing prizes, all of the feminine
+      gender&mdash;I allude to your sloops and frigates and catamarans&mdash;I
+      take it for granted that a catamaran is as feminine in its ways as any
+      wherry that floats,&rdquo; cried Garrick. Then he turned to their visitor, who
+      was looking more puzzled than ever.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may reckon yourself fortunate in the presence of our young friend,
+      sir,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;So far as I can gather this is a case of chase, with a
+      possible capture of a prize. I venture to think that in these days a
+      gentleman of family and fortune, like yourself, is something of a prize,
+      Mr. Kendal.&rdquo; This was language that contained nothing to puzzle anyone,
+      the visitor perceived. His face brightened, and he waved young Burney to a
+      seat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I take it that Mr. Garrick knows what he is talking about,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;And
+      though it was truly your father to whom I came for counsel, I doubt not
+      that you will take my part, should the worst come to the worst.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Which means, should the lady come to the gentleman, Mr. Burney,&rdquo; said
+      Garrick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pay out your yarn, sir: I gather that you are still to the windward of
+      your enemy, and that is the position which the books tell us we should
+      manoeuvre for,&rdquo; cried the nautical assessor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Burney sat silently by, he had no mind to join in the fooling of the
+      others. Dr. Burney had never in his life lost a sense of his own dignity.
+      He had been a church organist for thirty years, and no man who has had
+      such an experience of the control of an instrument of such superlative
+      dignity could be otherwise than dignified. He had never once run off on a
+      keyboard a single phrase of &ldquo;The Beggar's Opera.&rdquo; Even Handel's &ldquo;Ruddier
+      than the Cherry,&rdquo; with Mr. Gay's ticklish rhymed line about &ldquo;Kidlings
+      blithe and merry,&rdquo; he only played apologetically, allowing it to be
+      clearly understood that Mr. Handel and Mr. Gay divided between them the
+      responsibility for so frivolous a measure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He remained dignified and silent while Garrick and James carried on their
+      fooling. Only a short time before he had occasion to reprove the lack of
+      dignity on the part of his important patroness, Mrs. Thrale, the wife of
+      the wealthy brewer, in having put herself behind Signor Piozzi while he
+      was singing a sentimental canzone and mimicked his southern fervour of
+      expression. Mrs. Thrale had taken his reproof in good part at the time;
+      but no one&mdash;least of all Mrs. Thrale herself&mdash;could have
+      foreseen that her contrition should extend so far as to cause her to marry
+      the singer on the death of Mr. Thrale.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To be brief, sir,&rdquo; said Mr. Kendal, addressing, not Dr. Burney, whom he
+      had come to consult, but Mr. Garrick, who had shown himself to be much
+      more sympathetic. &ldquo;To be brief, I had gone to the Wells as my custom has
+      been for the past twenty years. I went honestly to drink the waters, not
+      making it an excuse, as so many do, for indulging in the gaieties, or, I
+      may add, the intrigues, of the Assembly Rooms. I was civil, as I hoped, to
+      everyone, but, I give you my word, no more so to Mrs. Nash than any other
+      lady.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not doubt that you believe this, sir,&rdquo; said Garrick, with an
+      indulgent wave of the hand; &ldquo;but when a lady has eyes only for one
+      gentleman, she is apt to place a construction upon the simplest of his
+      civilities beyond that assigned to it by ordinary people; but pray
+      proceed, sir. I will only add that it was quite well known at the Wells
+      that the lady regarded you with the tenderest of emotions. Had she not
+      boldly said to Lady&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash; no; I dare not mention her
+      name; but her ladyship is invariably what the Italians term <i>simpatica</i>
+      in regard to the tender affairs of her sisters&mdash;and it was to her
+      that Mrs. Nash confided her secret&mdash;referring to you as bearing a
+      striking resemblance to the Apollo Belvedere, hoping that her doing so
+      would not cause anyone to accuse her of Pagan leanings.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it possible! The poor lady! poor lady! But I was not to blame. I can
+      justly acquit myself of all blame in this unhappy affair,&rdquo; said Mr.
+      Kendal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are quite right, sir; is it a man's fault that he should bear a
+      striking likeness to the Apollo&mdash;I doubt not that the resemblance has
+      caused you some annoyance at various times of your life, Mr. Kendal,&rdquo; said
+      Garrick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never, sir, never&mdash;at least&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; he took a step to one
+      side that allowed of his having a full-length view of his reflection in
+      the narrow mirror that filled up the space between the windows; and the
+      result of his scrutiny of the picture was certainly not displeasing to
+      him. He boldly put forward a leg, and then quite unconscious, as anyone
+      could see, struck an attitude, though not quite that of the Apollo
+      Belvedere. Then he smirked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A leg like yours, Mr. Kendal, to say nothing of the poise of your head,
+      is a great responsibility,&rdquo; said Garrick seriously. &ldquo;The poor lady!&mdash;poor
+      ladies!&mdash;I confess that I have heard of others. And she acknowledged
+      to you that&mdash;that&mdash;oh, that most delicate of secrets!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never to me, sir&mdash;never in my hearing, I give you my word,&rdquo; cried
+      the man emphatically. &ldquo;Nay, I did not so much as suspect it. The first
+      intimation that I had of the matter was when, on Monday morning last&mdash;only
+      three days ago&mdash;Captain Kelly&mdash;the boisterous Irishman&mdash;clapt
+      me on the shoulder and almost shouted out his congratulations in my ear.
+      When I forced him to mention the name of the lady, he ridiculed my denial&mdash;his
+      forefinger in my ribs&mdash;painful as well as undignified. Who is Captain
+      Kelly, that he should subject me to his familiarities? But if he was
+      undignified, I flatter myself that I was not so. 'Sir, you presume,' I
+      said, and walked on, leaving this vulgar fellow roaring with laughter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Psha! Kelly is a nobody,&rdquo; said Garrick. &ldquo;You should not have allowed
+      yourself to be discomposed by such as he.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nor did I,&rdquo; cried the other. &ldquo;But what was I to think when I had advanced
+      no more than a dozen paces, and found my hand grasped warmly by Sir John
+      Dingle?&mdash;you know him, Mr. Garrick&mdash;I have seen him in your
+      company&mdash;more congratulations&mdash;the same attitude, sir. And then
+      up marches Mr. Sheridan&mdash;leaving his handsome wife&mdash;ah, I fear
+      that I joined with all Bath in being in love with the lovely Miss Linley&mdash;and
+      Mr. Sheridan was wellnigh affronted at my denial. But that was not all. Up
+      comes Mrs. Cholmondeley in her chair and tapped for the men to set her
+      down when she saw me&mdash;up went the roof and up went her head, with a
+      shrill cry of 'Kendal, you rogue! to tell everyone at the Wells save only
+      myself that Benedick is to be a married man!' And before she had finished
+      her ridicule of my denial, up struts Mrs. Thrale, her footman behind her
+      with her spaniel, and down she sinks in a curtsey, fitted only for a
+      special night in the Rooms, and her 'Happy man!' came with a flick of her
+      fan; and she, too, named Mrs. Nash! And that was not the last&mdash;I saw
+      them hurrying up to me from all sides&mdash;ladies with smiles, and
+      gentlemen with smirks&mdash;fingers twitching for my ribs&mdash;down they
+      flowed upon me! I ask you, Lieutenant Burney, as a naval gentleman, and I
+      am glad to have the opportunity of hearing your opinion&mdash;I ask you,
+      if I was not justified in turning about and hastening away&mdash;what you
+      nautical gentlemen term 'cutting my cable '?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed, sir; if I could believe that you gave the lady no encouragement,
+      I would say that&mdash;that&mdash;but no one will convince me that upon
+      some occasion&mdash;it may be forgotten by you&mdash;such men of fashion
+      as yourself soon forget these things, I have heard, though the unhappy
+      lady treasures them as golden memories&mdash;I say upon some occasion you
+      may have given the Widow Nash encouragement. You have your reputation as a
+      sly rogue to maintain, Mr. Kendal,&rdquo; said young Burney gravely, as though
+      he were a lawyer being seriously consulted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fore Gad, sir, I gave her no encouragement,&rdquo; cried Mr. Kendal. &ldquo;I have
+      ever been most cautious, I swear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then the greater shame for you, sir,&rdquo; said Garrick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The man whom he addressed looked in amazement first at Garrick, then at
+      Lieutenant Burney&mdash;Dr. Burney, whom he had come to consult, was
+      smiling quite unnoticed in a corner. His part, apparently, was no more
+      than that of the looker-on at a comedy. His presence was ignored by the
+      others.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The more shame&mdash;the more&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; began the visitor. &ldquo;I
+      protest that I scarcely take your meaning, Mr. Garrick.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My meaning is plain, sir,&rdquo; said Garrick firmly, almost sternly. &ldquo;I affirm
+      that it lay with you, when you perceived that the lady was so deeply
+      enamoured of you&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I did not perceive it&mdash;you have my word for it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, sir,&rdquo; said Garrick, with the shrug of a Frenchman, which he had
+      studied for some months in Paris&mdash;Mr. Garrick and Lord Chesterfield
+      had alone mastered the art. &ldquo;Ah, sir, we are all men of the world here.
+      'Twere idle for you to pretend that a gentleman with the figure of the
+      Belvedere Apollo and the leg of&mdash;of&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; he turned to young
+      Burney&mdash; &ldquo;You have seen the proud-stepping figure-heads of many ships
+      of the line, Mr. Burney,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;prithee help me out in my search for&mdash;for&mdash;the
+      name I am in search of.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;H'm, let me see&mdash;something wooden with a leg to be proud of?&rdquo; said
+      the naval gentleman, considering the matter very earnestly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Zounds, sir, I did not make it a condition that it should be a wooden
+      leg,&rdquo; cried Garrick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have seen more than one Admiral of the Fleet mighty proud of a wooden
+      leg, sir,&rdquo; said Burney. &ldquo;But this is beside the question, which I take to
+      be the responsibility of our good friend here&mdash;I hope I don't
+      presume, Mr. Kendal&mdash;for kindling, albeit unconsciously, so far as he
+      was concerned&mdash;that sacred flame in the breast of&mdash;to name only
+      one out of a score&mdash;the lady whose name he mentioned.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are with me heart and soul, as I felt sure you would be, Mr. Burney;
+      as a naval officer of judgment and experience,&rdquo; cried Garrick, &ldquo;and so,
+      sir&mdash;&rdquo; he turned to their visitor&mdash; &ldquo;I cannot doubt that you
+      will comport yourself as a gentleman of honour in this affair. Do not
+      allow your yielding to the natural impulse to run away to weigh too
+      heavily upon you. If your act should cause you to be referred to with
+      reprobation, not to say scorn, by the ladies or gentlemen of fashion who
+      are certain to espouse the cause of the lady, your subsequent conduct will
+      show them that they mistook your character. And I promise you that should
+      you receive a challenge from any of the lady's admirers&mdash;those whose
+      prayers she rejected because her heart was set on a gentleman who was
+      worthy of her choice&mdash;I think you can afford to ignore them, having
+      won the prize. Ah, sir, is there not a poet who says that every man that
+      lives has a good angel and a bad one contending for dominion over him?
+      That is the truth, Mr. Kendal, and I see that your good angel is none
+      other than the lady whose name I reckon too sacred to pass our lips at
+      such a time as this. Ah, sir, think of her, and let your mind go back to
+      the days of your happy boyhood, and say if the mother at whose knees you
+      knelt did not resemble her. The affection of a son for his mother&mdash;let
+      that plead for the lady who esteems you with more than a mother's love.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He had laid his hand on the poor gentleman's shoulder, and was looking
+      into his face, while the tears stood in his eyes, and his voice broke more
+      than once.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And there sat Dr. Burney wiping his eyes, and Lieutenant Burney blubbering
+      away like any child&mdash;the two accessories to the actor's farce could
+      not avoid yielding to the-influence of his unparalleled art. Though they
+      were in his secret, he made fools of them as easily as he made a fool of
+      the poor gentleman who was presumably his victim. And they had no feeling
+      of being ashamed of yielding to his powers. He could do anything that he
+      pleased with them. He could do anything he pleased with the multitudes
+      before whom he acted. He was the master of their emotions for the time
+      being. He played upon their passions as though every passion was a puppet
+      and the strings in his own hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER IV
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE scene ended by
+      Mr. Garrick's victim groping through his tears for Mr. Garrick's hand. He
+      grasped it emotionally, and though for some moments he was too greatly
+      overcome to be able to utter a word, yet at last he managed to blurt out
+      with affecting incoherence a few phrases.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Say no more&mdash;say no more, sir,&rdquo; he muttered. &ldquo;I have a heart&mdash;a
+      heart! I give you my word, whether you believe me or not, that I had no
+      notion&mdash;but you have shown me what 'tis to be a woman. Oh, sir, there
+      is no sweeter sex in the world! Deception! how a man's own heart may
+      deceive him&mdash;ay, up to a certain point&mdash;but then&mdash;ah, you
+      have taught me&mdash;but are you sure that the lady&mdash;what&mdash;have
+      we not been going ahead too fast? What&mdash;what; are you convinced?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may take my word for it, sir,&rdquo; replied Garrick. &ldquo;There are signs that
+      all who run may read. What, do you suppose that all those persons of
+      quality whose names you mentioned just now as having offered you their
+      felicitations&mdash;do you suppose that they could all be in error?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course not&mdash;they must have seen&mdash;well, more than I saw,&rdquo;
+       said the man. &ldquo;Matrimony! Lud! if an angel had come down to tell me that I
+      should be contemplating such a change of life&mdash;and at my time of life
+      too!&mdash;I should have&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What an angel may fail to convince a man of, a woman may succeed in
+      doing, Mr. Kendal,&rdquo; said Garrick sententiously. &ldquo;But do not talk of your
+      time of life as if you were an old or even a middle-aged man, sir. To do
+      so were to make Dr. Burney and myself feel patriarchs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The mention of Dr. Burney seemed to cause the man to recollect how it was
+      he came to be in Dr. Burney's house. He turned to Burney, saying:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear sir, I pray that you will look on my visit with lenient eyes. I
+      admit that I came hitherto be advised by you&mdash;my friend, Mr. Fulke
+      Greville, holds your opinion in the highest esteem, as do I, sir; and it
+      was actually on my mind to ask you if you thought it would be wiser for me
+      to go abroad for a year or two, or simply to seek some place of retirement
+      at home&mdash;say, Cornwall or the Hebrides&mdash;I gather from the
+      account of Dr. Johnson's tour thither that there are many places difficult
+      of access in the Hebrides&mdash;that was on my mind, Doctor, I blush to
+      acknowledge, so greatly overcome was I by what had happened at the Wells.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, with what great ease a man may slam the door that shuts out happiness
+      from his life for evermore!&rdquo; remarked Garrick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Even now&mdash;even now I feel timid,&rdquo; said Mr. Kendal thoughtfully, and,
+      when he had found which pocket his handkerchief was in, wiping some dew
+      from his brow. &ldquo;The truth is, Doctor, that I have allowed some people to
+      assume that I am but forty-seven years old, while as a matter of fact I
+      have been forty-eight for some time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For some years?&rdquo; asked young Burney, who did not know when he should keep
+      silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For some months, sir&mdash;only for some months, I give you my word.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your deception in this matter could only have added to your reputation
+      for accuracy,&rdquo; said Garrick coolly. &ldquo;For I vow that were you to confess
+      that you were forty-eight, you would find none to believe you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The gentleman's eyes twinkled, he pursed out his lips, and once again
+      manoeuvred to get a full-length view of himself in the long mirror. He put
+      out his right leg and assumed the attitude of a dancing master giving the
+      <i>pas</i> for the <i>minuet de cour</i>.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, well,&rdquo; he cried, &ldquo;if that be your opinion&mdash;and I happen to
+      know that 'tis shared by others&mdash;it might not be unwise to allow the
+      assumption, erroneous though it be, to continue. We will not undeceive the
+      good folk. And you do not think that a bachelor of forty-eight&mdash;What
+      is the name of that play of Mr. Sheridan's that took the town a year ago?&mdash;ah,
+      <i>The School for Scandal</i>&mdash;you are sure that our friends will not
+      call me&mdash;What was the gentleman's name?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No one who knows how excellent are your principles will think of you
+      either as Charles or Joseph, Mr. Kendal,&rdquo; said Garrick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no; but the one who was in my mind was neither of the brothers. I was
+      thinking of&mdash;was it not Sir Peter Teazle?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Garrick as well as Burney laughed heartily, for the man at that moment
+      suggested by his attitude and expression the Sir Peter Teazle of Kina, the
+      actor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Make your mind easy on that score, sir,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney. &ldquo;It is not your
+      purpose to wed so skittish a young person as Lady Teazle. That was where
+      Sir Peter showed his folly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no; Mrs. Nash is more mature, certainly, than Mrs. Abington looked in
+      the part,&rdquo; said Mr. Kendal confidently, and Lieutenant Burney was about to
+      agree with him boisterously, but Garrick did not give him a chance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is none that will not commend your choice, Mr. Kendal&mdash;ay,
+      sir, and look on you with envy as well,&rdquo; he cried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There can be no doubt about it,&rdquo; said Mr. Kendal doubtfully. &ldquo;The widow
+      Nash is a monstrous fine woman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Monstrous, I doubt not,&rdquo; put in young Burney, now that he had the chance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All that I am uneasy about is the interpretation that she may put upon
+      your sudden flight,&rdquo; said Garrick. &ldquo;You have, you will readily allow, sir,
+      placed her in a somewhat difficult position at the Wells. While everyone
+      who is anyone has been offering you congratulations upon the match, and a
+      double portion to the lady, strange inquiries may be made as to your
+      disappearance from the Wells; and she may not be able to give a
+      satisfactory explanation at a moment's notice.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Egad! I never thought of that, sir,&rdquo; said Mr. Kendal, after a pause. &ldquo;I
+      fear that I have placed her in a very awkward position.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay, sir; and the consequences may be that she will be snapped up by some
+      adventurous person before you can put your fate to the test,&rdquo; said the
+      naval man, raising a warning finger. &ldquo;I have heard of ladies throwing
+      themselves into the arms of the next comer out of sheer chagrin at being
+      disappointed by the man on whom they had set their affections.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is a possibility that should not be neglected,&rdquo; said Garrick. &ldquo;But
+      it was only on Monday that you fled. By rapid posting you may yet prevent
+      such a calamity.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was beginning to tire of his game now that he had succeeded so well in
+      it and so easily. The fooling of the man who had so completely succumbed
+      to his art had no further interest for him. He only wanted to get rid of
+      him. He was as capricious and as fickle as a child over the toys of its
+      nursery.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall lose no moment, be assured,&rdquo; said Mr. Kendal. &ldquo;I may still be in
+      time. My hope in this direction is increased when I remember that the lady
+      has been a widow for some years&mdash;to be exact, without being
+      uncomplimentary, nine years. I remember when Mr. Nash died. 'Twas of
+      pleurisy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do not reckon too confidently on that, sir,&rdquo; said young Burney. &ldquo;Nine
+      years have not passed since she faced the company at the Wells, every one
+      of which was surely pointing at her and asking in mute eloquence, 'What
+      has become of Mr. Kendal?' But by posting without delay you may yet
+      retrieve your error. Still, I confess to you that I have known of a lady
+      who, out of sheer impatience at the delay of a lover whom she had hoped to
+      espouse, married his rival after the lapse of twenty-four hours&mdash;ay,
+      and when the belated gentleman arrived just after the ceremony, he
+      furnished the wedding party with a succulent feast. She was the Queen of
+      one of the islands that we visited in the company of Captain Cook, and the
+      cockswain of our galley kept the pickled hand of the belated lover for
+      many a day&mdash;the very hand which he had designed to offer the lady.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This simple and affecting narrative proves more eloquently than any
+      phrases of mine could possibly do how a man may miss the happiness of his
+      life by a hair's breadth,&rdquo; said Garrick. &ldquo;And the lesson will not be lost
+      upon you, I am certain, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lud, Mr. Garrick, you do not mean to suggest that&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That the lady may make a meal off you on your late return, sir? Nay, Mr.
+      Kendal. The Wells are still the Wells, not the South Seas; but on the
+      whole I am disposed to believe that the scheme of revenge of the woman
+      scorned is fiercer, though perhaps not, at first sight, so primeval, in
+      the region of Chalybeate Waters than in a cannibal island of the South
+      Seas. Therefore&mdash;there is no time to be lost. Fly to your charmer,
+      sir, and throw yourself at her feet. She may be thinking over some
+      punishment for your having placed her in a false position for some days;
+      but do not mind that. You can always console yourself with the reflection
+      that a rod in pickle is much more satisfactory than a hand in pickle. Fly,
+      my dear friend, fly; every moment is precious. Take my word for it, joy
+      awaits you at the end of your journey.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Journeys end in lovers meeting,'&rdquo; remarked Dr. Burney, with a slight
+      suggestion of the setting of the words of the lyric by his old master, Dr.
+      Arne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At this moment a servant entered the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Streatham carriage is at the door, sir,&rdquo; he announced.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Burney rose from his chair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am forced to leave you, sir,&rdquo; he said to Mr. Kendal. &ldquo;But really there
+      is naught further to consult on at present, and I know that you are
+      impatient&mdash;it is but natural&mdash;to fly to the side of your
+      charmer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am all impatience, sir; but with what words can I express my obligation
+      to you, Doctor, for the benefit of your counsel?&rdquo; cried Mr. Kendal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Burney smiled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, dear sir, I am but the lessee of the theatre where the comedy has
+      been played,&rdquo; said he; and he had good reason for feeling that he had
+      defined with accuracy the position that he occupied. But Mr. Kendal was
+      thinking too much about himself and the position he occupied to appreciate
+      such <i>nuances</i>.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I knew that I was safe in coming to a friend of Mr. Greville,&rdquo; he said.
+      &ldquo;I care not if, as you suggest, you have become Mr. Garrick's successor at
+      Drury Lane, though I thought that Mr. Sheridan&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Zounds, sir, you are never going to wait to discuss theatre matters,&rdquo;
+       cried Garrick. &ldquo;Dr. Burney has been exercising his powers of oratory in
+      vain upon you for this half hour if you tarry even to thank him. Post,
+      sir, post at once to Tunbridge Wells, and send Dr. Burney your thanks when
+      you have put the momentous question to the lady. Go, sir, without the
+      pause of a moment, and good luck attend you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good luck attend you! Keep up your heart, sir: the lady may refuse you
+      after all,&rdquo; said young Burney; but the poor gentleman who was being
+      hurried away was too much flurried to be able to grasp the young man's
+      innuendo, though one could see by the look that came to his face that he
+      had an uneasy impression that Lieutenant Burney's good wishes had not been
+      happily expressed. The great thing, however, was that he was at the other
+      side of the door, calling out his obligations to everyone, and striving to
+      shake hands with them all at once and yet preserve the security of his
+      hat, which he had tucked under his arm. So excited was he that he was only
+      restrained at the last moment from mounting the Thrales' carriage which
+      was awaiting Dr. Burney, and even when his mistake was explained to him,
+      he took off his hat to the splendid footman who had guarded the door of
+      the vehicle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the room where the comedy had been played, Garrick and Lieutenant
+      Burney had thrown themselves into chairs with roars of laughter, when Dr.
+      Burney returned from the hall, carrying his hat and cane. He was scarcely
+      smiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have played a pretty prank upon an inoffensive gentleman, the pair of
+      you!&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;I am ashamed that my house has been used by you for so
+      base a purpose! The poor gentleman!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Psha! my dear Doctor, make your mind easy; the lady will teach that
+      coxcomb a lesson that will be of advantage to him for the rest of his
+      life,&rdquo; said Garrick. &ldquo;He has been the laughingstock of the Wells for the
+      past fortnight, and no one laughed louder than the Widow Nash. She will
+      bundle him out of her presence before he has had time to rise from his
+      marrow-bones&mdash;he does not find the process a rapid one, I assure you.
+      Oh, he was her <i>bete noire</i> even when he was most civil to her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And it was you who concocted that plot of getting all your friends&mdash;Mrs.
+      Cholmondeley, Mrs. Thrale and the rest&mdash;to make a fool of him,
+      driving him away from the Wells to encounter a more irresistible pair of
+      mocking demons in this room!&rdquo; said Burney. &ldquo;You cannot deny it, my friend,
+      I know your tricks but too well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I swear to you that I had no hope of encountering him in this house, my
+      dear Doctor,&rdquo; said Garrick. &ldquo;I give you my word that I had laid my plans
+      quite differently. My plot was a far more elaborate one, and Polly
+      Cholmondeley had agreed to take part in it, as well as Dick Sheridan. They
+      will be disappointed to learn that it has miscarried. Who could guess that
+      he should come to you of all men in the world, Doctor? He has never been
+      one of your intimates.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only when I was living with Mr. Greville had we more than a superficial
+      acquaintance,&rdquo; replied Burney. &ldquo;But that does not make me the less ashamed
+      of having lent myself to your nefarious project. And you, James, you threw
+      yourself with gusto into the fooling of the unhappy man&mdash;and woman
+      too&mdash;and woman too, I repeat.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pray do not distress yourself on her account, Doctor. She will send him
+      off with a flea in his ear by to-morrow night, and she will take care to
+      pose as the insulted widow of Mr. Nash, whose memory is dear to her,&rdquo; said
+      Garrick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will she, indeed?&rdquo; said Burney. &ldquo;David Garrick, you are the greatest
+      actor that has ever lived in England&mdash;probably in the world&mdash;but
+      you are a poor comedian compared with such as are at work upon our daily
+      life: we call them Circumstance, and Accident, and Coincidence. You know
+      the couplet, I doubt not:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br />
+    </p>
+    <p class="indent15">
+      ' Men are the sport of circumstances when
+    </p>
+    <p class="indent15">
+      The circumstances seem the sport of men.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      You have sounded the depths of human impulses, so far as your plummet
+      allows you, and womankind seems to you an open book&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An illuminated missal, with the prayers done in gold and the Lessons for
+      the day in the most roseate tint, Doctor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And the Responses all of a kind&mdash;the same in one book as another?
+      But I make bold to believe, my friend, that every woman is a separate
+      volume, of which only one copy has been printed; and, moreover, that every
+      separate volume of woman is sealed, so that anyone who fancies he knows
+      all that is bound up between the covers, when he has only glanced at the
+      binding, makes a mistake.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Admirably put, sir, and, I vow, with fine philosophy,&rdquo; said Garrick. &ldquo;But
+      what imports this nomination of a woman at the present moment, Doctor?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Its import is that you are over sanguine in your assurance that Mrs.
+      Nash, widow, will reject Mr. Kendal, bachelor, when he offers her his hand
+      after a dusty journey; and so good day to you, David Garrick, and I pray
+      you to spend the rest of the day in the study of the history of those
+      women who have opened the leaves of their lives a little way before the
+      eyes of mankind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He had left the room and was within the waiting carriage and driving away
+      before his son remarked:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Garrick, it seems to me that my good father has spoken the wisest
+      words that you or I have heard to-day or for many a day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And i' faith, James, it seems to me that that remark of yours is the
+      second wisest that has been uttered in this room,&rdquo; said Garrick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He went away without a further word&mdash;without even taking his leave of
+      the two young women and their stepmother, who herself had been a widow
+      before she had married Dr. Burney. He had once believed that nothing a
+      woman&mdash;young or old&mdash;could do would surprise him; for some
+      reason or other he was not now quite so confident as he had been. But he
+      certainly did not think that one of the greatest surprises of the century
+      should be due to the demure young woman who seemed the commonplace
+      daughter of a very ordinary household, and who at the moment of his
+      departure was darning a small hole in a kitchen table-cloth, under the
+      superintendence of her admirable stepmother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER V
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>N the course of
+      the morning Esther, the married daughter of the Bumey family, called at
+      the house in St. Martin's Street. Esther, or as she was usually alluded to
+      by her sisters, Hetty or Hettina, was handsome and accomplished. She had
+      been married for some years to her cousin, Charles Rousseau Burney, who
+      was a musician, and they lived and enjoyed living in an atmosphere of
+      music. Her father took care that she was never likely to be asphyxiated;
+      their atmosphere would never become attenuated so long as they lived, as
+      they did, close to St. Martin's Street. He was well aware of the fact that
+      his Hetty's duets with her husband&mdash;&ldquo;matrimonial duets&rdquo; they were
+      called by Fanny in some of her letters&mdash;and also with her sister
+      Charlotte, served to attract many distinguished visitors and profitable
+      patrons to his house; he never forgot that profitable patrons and
+      patronesses are always attracted by distinguished visitors. When one finds
+      oneself in the company of distinguished people, one naturally feels a
+      distinguished person also.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Moreover, Dr. Burney knew perfectly well that when ambitious patrons and
+      patronesses were made aware of the success which he had achieved in
+      respect of his daughters, they were all ready to implore of him to spare
+      some of his valuable time to give lessons to themselves, seeing no reason
+      why, with his assistance, they should not reach the level of his two
+      musical daughters. He conducted his teaching on the principle which brings
+      fortunes to the Parisian modiste, who takes good care that her mannequins
+      are good-looking and of a fine figure, knowing that the visitors to the
+      showrooms have no doubt, no matter how little Nature has done for their
+      own features or figures, that in the robes of the mannequins they will
+      appear equally fascinating.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The adoption of this system in the Burney household operated extremely
+      well, and Dr. Burney had for several years enjoyed the proceeds of his
+      cultivation of the musical tastes of the most influential clientèle in
+      London. In addition, the greatest singers in Europe, knowing that there
+      was always an influential <i>assistance</i> to be found at Dr. Burney's
+      little concerts in St. Martin's Street, were greatly pleased to contribute
+      to the entertainment, for love, what they were in the habit of receiving
+      large sums for from an impresario. Those Italian operatic artists most
+      notorious for the extravagance of their demands when appearing in public,
+      were pushing each other aside, so to speak, to be allowed to sing at Dr.
+      Burney's, and really upon more than one occasion the contest between the
+      generosity of a pair of the most distinguished of these singers must have
+      been somewhat embarrassing to Dr. Burney. They were clearly singing
+      against each other; and one of them, who invariably received fifty guineas
+      for every contribution she made to a programme in public, insisted on
+      singing no fewer than five songs, &ldquo;all for love&rdquo; (and to prove her
+      superiority to her rival), upon a certain occasion at the Burneys'; so
+      that really the little company ran a chance of being suffocated beneath
+      the burden of flowers, as it were&mdash;the never-ending <i>fioriture</i>
+      of these generous artists&mdash;and Dr. Burney found himself in the
+      position of the lion-tamer who runs a chance of being overwhelmed by the
+      caresses of the carnivora who rush to lick his hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The result of all this was extremely gratifying, and eminently profitable.
+      Had Dr. Burney not been a great musician and shown by the publication of
+      the first volume of the greatest History of Music the world had yet
+      received, that he was worthy of being placed in the foremost ranks of
+      scientific musicians, he would have run a chance of being placed only a
+      little higher than the musical Cornelys of Soho Square, who gave their
+      concerts, and entertained their friends, and made quite a reputation for
+      some years before bankruptcy overtook them and the precincts of the Fleet
+      became their headquarters.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And now the beautiful Esther Burney was toying with the contents of her
+      sister Fanny's work-basket, talking about her husband and his prospects,
+      and inquiring what Mr. Garrick and James had to talk about in the room
+      downstairs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pray speak in French to Fanny,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;I cannot get Lottie
+      and Susan to do so as frequently as I could wish. You must remember that
+      poor Fanny has had none of your advantages, and I do not want her to be
+      talked of as the dunce of the family. She really is not a dunce, you know;
+      in spite of her bad sight she really has done some very pretty sewing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have seen it,&rdquo; said Esther. &ldquo;She works very neatly&mdash;more neatly
+      than any of us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny blushed and smiled her thanks to her sister for the compliment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What else is there left for me to do but to give all my attention to my
+      needle?&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I constantly feel that I am the dunce of the family&mdash;you
+      are all so clever.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is well for many families that they include one useful member,&rdquo; said
+      her stepmother in a way that suggested her complete agreement with the
+      girl's confession that she was the dunce of the family. A mother's
+      acknowledgment that a girl is either useful or good-natured is practically
+      an announcement that she is neither pretty nor accomplished.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And Fanny has many friends,&rdquo; continued Mrs. Burney indulgently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Which shows how kind people are, even to a dunce,&rdquo; said Fanny, not
+      bitterly, but quite good-humouredly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I am not sure that she should spend so much of her time writing to
+      Mr. Crisp,&rdquo; said the elder Mrs. Burney to the younger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, poor Daddy Crisp!&rdquo; cried Fanny. &ldquo;Pray, mother, do not cut him off
+      from his weekly budget of news. If I fail to send him a letter he is
+      really disconsolate. 'Tis my letters that keep him still in touch with the
+      life of the town.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, well, my dear Fanny, I shall not deprive you of your Daddy Crisp,&rdquo;
+       said her stepmother. &ldquo;Poor Mr. Crisp must not be left to the tender
+      mercies of Susan or Lottie. He is most hospitable, and his house at
+      Chessington makes a pleasant change for us now and again, and he took a
+      great fancy to you from the first.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Daddy Crisp was always Fanny's special friend,&rdquo; said Esther. &ldquo;And I am
+      sure that it is good practice for Fanny to write to him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, she has long ago given up that childish nonsense,&rdquo; cried the mother.
+      &ldquo;Poor Fanny made a pretty bonfire of her scribblings, and she has shown no
+      weakness in that way since she took my advice in regard to them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny was blushing furiously and giving all her attention to her work.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She has still a sense of the guilt that attaches to the writing of
+      stories, though I am sure that no one in this house remembers it against
+      her,&rdquo; said Esther with a laugh, as Fanny's blushes increased. &ldquo;But indeed
+      I had not in my mind Mr. Crisp's advantage to her in this way, but only in
+      regard to her correspondence. She has become quite an expert letter-writer
+      since he induced her to send him her budget, and indeed I think that good
+      letter-writing is as much of an accomplishment in these careless days as
+      good singing&mdash;that is ordinary good singing&mdash;the good singing
+      that we hear from some of father's pupils&mdash;Queenie Thrale, <i>par
+      exemple!</i>&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your father is a good teacher, but the best teacher in the world cannot
+      endow with a good singing-voice anyone who has not been so gifted by
+      Nature,&rdquo; said the elder lady. &ldquo;'Tis somewhat different, to be sure, in
+      regard to correspondence, and I do not doubt that Fanny's practice in
+      writing to good Mr. Crisp will one day cause her to be regarded as one of
+      the best letter-writers in the family, and that is something. It is a
+      ladylike accomplishment, and one that is worth excelling in; it gives
+      innocent pleasure to so many of her friends who live at a distance; and
+      your father can always obtain plenty of franks, Mr. Charmier and Mr.
+      Thrale are very obliging.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny was a little fidgety while her eldest sister and her stepmother were
+      discussing her in a tone of indulgence which was more humiliating than
+      open reprobation would have been. But she knew that the truth was, that
+      from her earliest years she was looked on as the dunce of the family, and
+      she was so morbidly self-conscious that she was quite ready to accept
+      their estimate of her. The silent member of a musical family soon finds
+      out how she is looked on by the others; not with unkindness&mdash;quite
+      the contrary&mdash;but only as if she were to be slightly pitied for her
+      deficiency. But she had a secret or two, the treasuring of which in her
+      heart prevented her from having any feeling of humiliation in the presence
+      of her splendid sister, whom all the world sought to attract to their
+      houses, especially when there were guests anxious to be entertained by the
+      sweet singing of a handsome young woman with a very presentable young
+      husband. Fanny had her secrets and cherished them with a fearful joy, for
+      she knew that any day might remove either or both of them, and then there
+      would be nothing left for her in the household but to put her heart into
+      her needlework. But one cannot do needlework without needles, and if she
+      were to put her heart into her work, and if every needle had a point, the
+      result would, she knew, be a good many prickings.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She trusted that she might never be condemned to put her heart into her
+      needlework.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VI
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HEN Lieutenant
+      Burney sauntered into the room and greeted Esther; but when Fanny inquired
+      with some eagerness what had been the result of Mr. Garrick's fooling of
+      poor Mr. Kendal, James was by no means so glib or amusing as Fanny
+      expected him to be.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Psha!&rdquo; he cried; &ldquo;that Mr. Kendal is not worth powder and shot&mdash;at
+      least not the weight of metal that Mr. Garrick can discharge&mdash;not in
+      a broadside&mdash;Mr. Garrick is not given to broadsides&mdash;they are
+      too clumsy for him&mdash;he is like Luke Boscawen, our chief gunner; he
+      had a contempt for what he was used to term a blustering broadside, having
+      a liking only for the working of his little brass swivel. He could do
+      anything that he pleased with his little swivel. 'Ping!' it would go, when
+      he had squinted along the sights, and the object he aimed at half a mile
+      away&mdash;sometimes so small that we could scarce see it from our foretop&mdash;down
+      it went. Boscawen could do what he pleased with it&mdash;the blunt nose of
+      a whale rising to spout a mile away&mdash;the stem of a cocoa-nut palm on
+      one of the islands when we were not sure of the natives and there was no
+      time to climb the tree&mdash;that is the marksmanship of Mr. Garrick, and
+      your Mr. Kendal was not worthy of an exercise of so much skill.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nobody seems too insignificant to be made a fool of by Mr. Garrick,&rdquo; said
+      Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;He is as happy when he has made a gruesome face and
+      frightened a maid with a mop at the doorstep, as when he has stricken us
+      with awe when the ghost enters in <i>Hamlet</i>, or when Macbeth declaims
+      of the horror of the curse of sleeplessness that has been cast on him.
+      That is why I said before he arrived that I was not sure that his
+      influence upon you all is for good. He makes one lose one's sense of the
+      right proportions and realities of life. Now is not that so, Hetty? I make
+      no appeal to Fanny, for I know that she has ever been devoted to Mr.
+      Garrick. Is it not true that she was used to frighten poor Lottie before
+      she was ten by showing how Mr. Garrick frowned as the Duke of Gloster?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know that Fanny murdered us all in turn in our beds, assuring us that
+      we were the Princes in the Tower, or some less real characters invented by
+      herself,&rdquo; said Esther. &ldquo;But indeed if James tells us that Mr. Garrick's
+      gun practice smashed the cocoa-nut that serves Mr. Kendal as a head, I
+      should not grieve. Tell us what happened, James.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, 'twas naught worth words to describe,&rdquo; said James. &ldquo;The man came to
+      take counsel of Daddy in regard to a jest that Mr. Garrick had, unknown to
+      his victim, played off upon him, and Mr. Garrick so worked upon him that
+      Daddy had no chance to speak. But Mr. Garrick made fools of us as well,
+      for I give you my word, though we were in with him in his jest, he had us
+      blubbering like boobies when he laid his hand on the fellow's shoulder and
+      spoke nonsense in a voice quivering and quavering as though he were at the
+      point of breaking down.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Burney the elder shook her head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is what I do not like&mdash;that trifling with sacred things,&rdquo; she
+      said. &ldquo;'Tis not decent in a private house&mdash;I would not tolerate it
+      even in a playhouse, and I see that you are of my opinion, James, though
+      you may have been dragged into the abetting of Mr. Garrick in whatever mad
+      scheme he had set himself upon perfecting.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, for that matter we are all sorry when we have been merry at the
+      expense of another, even though he be an elderly coxcomb such as that Mr.
+      Kendal,&rdquo; said James. &ldquo;But enough&mdash;more than enough&mdash;of coxcomb
+      Kendal! Tell us of the Duchess's concert, Hetty. Were the matrimonial
+      duets as successful as usual?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Esther, who had been disappointed that her stepmother had not yet said a
+      word about the concert of the previous night given by the Dowager Duchess
+      of Portland, at which she and her husband had performed, brightened up at
+      her brother's question.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The concert was well enough,&rdquo; she replied with an affectation of
+      carelessness. &ldquo;'Twas no better than many that have taken place under this
+      roof. Her Grace and her grandees were very kind to us&mdash;we had enough
+      plaudits to turn the head of Gabrielli herself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, the Gabrielli's head has been turned so frequently that one can never
+      tell when it sits straight on her shoulders,&rdquo; said James.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She was <i>very</i> civil to us last evening,&rdquo; said Esther. &ldquo;Indeed, she
+      was civil to everyone until the enchanter Rauzzini sang the solo from <i>Piramo
+      e Tisbe</i> and swept the company off their feet. The poor Gabrielli had
+      no chance against Rauzzini.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Especially in a company that numbered many ladies,&rdquo; said James, with a
+      laugh. &ldquo;You remember what Sir Joshua told us that Dr. Goldsmith had once
+      said of Johnson?&mdash;that in his argument he was like the highwayman:
+      when his pistol missed fire he knocked one down with the butt.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I heard that upon one occasion Dr. Johnson knocked a man down with a
+      heavy book, but I cannot imagine his ever firing a pistol,&rdquo; remarked Mrs.
+      Burney, who had been used, when the wife of a straightforward merchant of
+      Lynn, to take every statement literally, and had not yet become accustomed
+      to the involved mode of speaking of the brilliant young Burneys.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean that Rauzzini&mdash;I don't quite perceive what you do mean by
+      your reference to Dr. Goldsmith's apt humour,&rdquo; said Esther.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I only mean that among such a company as assembled at the Duchess's, if
+      he missed fire with his singing, he glanced around with those dark eyes of
+      his and the ladies went down before him by the score,&rdquo; replied James. &ldquo;Do
+      not I speak the truth, Fanny?&rdquo; he added, turning quickly to where Fanny
+      was searching with her short-sighted eyes close to her work-basket for
+      some material that seemed to be missing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But she had clearly heard her brother's question, for she did not need to
+      raise her head or to ask him to repeat it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, we are all the slaves of the nobil' signor,&rdquo; she said, and continued
+      her search in the basket.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;From the way he talked to us last night it might be fancied that it was
+      he who was the captive,&rdquo; said Esther.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I do not doubt that he is living in a state of constant captivity,&rdquo;
+       laughed James. &ldquo;Ay, or I should rather term it inconstant captivity, for I
+      dare swear that those black eyes of his do a deal of roving in the course
+      of a year&mdash;nay, in the course of a day. These singer fellows feel
+      that 'tis due to their art, this moving the hearts of their hearers, by
+      moving their own affections from heart to heart. The Rauzzini is, I fancy,
+      like one of the splendid butterflies we came upon in the Straits,
+      fluttering from flower to flower.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have heard no stories of his inconstancy, even from the Gabrielli when
+      she was most envious of his plaudits,&rdquo; said Esther, and she glanced at her
+      sister, who was earnestly threading a needle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You goose!&rdquo; cried James to Esther. &ldquo;Do you suppose that Gabrielli would
+      tell you anything so greatly complimentary to him? In these days you
+      cannot pay a man a greater compliment than to compare him to the fickle
+      butterfly. You see that suggests a welcome from every flower.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I protest that it is to sailors I have heard most compliments of that
+      sort paid,&rdquo; laughed Esther, and then, putting herself in a singing
+      attitude before him, she lilted most delightfully:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br />
+    </p>
+    <p class="indent20">
+      &ldquo;Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more!
+    </p>
+    <p class="indent20">
+      Men were deceivers ever,
+    </p>
+    <p class="indent20">
+      One foot on sea-
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;ha, ha, brother James!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br />
+    </p>
+    <p class="indent20">
+      and one on shore,
+    </p>
+    <p class="indent20">
+      To one thing constant never.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now be advised by me, dear James, and do not attribute even in a cynical
+      way, the vice of inconstancy to a singer, until you have left the Navy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did not allude to it as a vice&mdash;rather as a virtue,&rdquo; said James.
+      &ldquo;Just think of the hard fate of any girl to have such a person as a singer
+      ever by her side!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He easily evaded the rush down upon him made by Hetty, and used his
+      nautical skill to sail to the windward of her, as it were, until he had
+      reached the door, whence he sent a parting shot at her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You surely don't think that I hinted that your spouse was a singer,&rdquo; he
+      cried. &ldquo;A singer! Oh, lud! I should be swaying away on all top ropes if I
+      were to call the matrimonial duets singing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He gave a shout of laughter as he caught the ball of wool which Esther
+      threw at him, having picked it up from her stepmother's work-table. He
+      returned it with a better aim, and before his sister could get a hand on
+      it, he had shut the door, only opening it a little space a few seconds
+      later to put in his head with a mocking word, withdrawing it at once, and
+      then his foot was heard upon the stair, while he gave a sailor's version
+      of Mr. Garrick's patriotic naval song:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br />
+    </p>
+    <p class="indent15">
+      Come, cheer up, my lads, 'tis to glory we steer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He has gone before I had a chance of asking him to take a message to the
+      cheesemonger,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney, calling out to him while she hurried
+      after him out of the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VII
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE moment the two
+      sisters were alone, the elder said quickly in a low voice, leaning across
+      the table:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We had a long talk with Signor Rauzzini, my dearest Fanny. I could not,
+      of course, tell you before mother.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mentioned his name; but were you discreet?&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;I think
+      mother felt that you were going too far when you referred to his eyes.
+      Mother most surely believes that the dark eyes of an Italian form a topic
+      that should not be discussed except by our elders, and then only with
+      bated breath and a fearful glance around lest a word should be overheard.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;His eyes&mdash;you know his eyes, Fanny?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; said Fanny, with an inflection that was between a sigh and a moan.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You should have seen them while he spoke of you,&rdquo; said Esther. &ldquo;Talk of
+      flashes of lightning!&mdash;Dear child, it seemed so singular to us that a
+      mite like you should inspire a grand passion in such a man. You are not
+      angry with us, I know, but it was so indeed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why should I feel angry with you for feeling just what I do myself, only
+      more intensely,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;Tis one of the greatest mysteries of life&mdash;the
+      only mystery of life that I have yet faced&mdash;why a man who is as
+      handsome as an archangel, and who possesses a voice that an archangel
+      might envy, should so much as glance at an insignificant young woman like
+      myself! Oh! 'tis no wonder that the notion amused you, dear Hetty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It only diverted us for a time, I assure you, my Fanny; it did not take
+      us very long to perceive how it was no laughing matter, but, on the
+      contrary, a very serious matter. Signor Rauzzini is, as I said, an
+      enchanter, but do you not think that 'tis somewhat dangerous to&mdash;to&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To play with fire? That is what is on your mind, dear&mdash;to allow the
+      fire of his Roman eyes to play about me? Dangerous? I admit that wherever
+      there is fire there is danger, especially when it flashes from such eyes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am glad that you need no warning, child. As your elder sister I am
+      pleased that&mdash;that&mdash;but no one in the house seems to think for a
+      moment that the favour he has so distinctly shown to you can mean
+      anything. Indeed, until last night, neither Charles nor I could believe&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny laughed, half closing her short-sighted eyes with a curious
+      expression as she looked at her sister.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is only natural, my dear Hettina,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have I ever ventured to suggest that I am other than the dunce of the
+      family?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have always been absurdly humble, Fanny, and I have never hesitated
+      to say so,&rdquo; cried Esther. &ldquo;I am sure that none of us could have made up
+      such clever little pieces to act as you did when we were children. And as
+      for writing, could any of us have so neatly copied out the padre's History
+      as you did last year? Mr. Crisp, too&mdash;he never takes pleasure in any
+      letters of the family except what you write for him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All perfectly true, my Hettina,&rdquo; replied Fanny. &ldquo;But where am I when the
+      house is filled with visitors? You know that I am nobody&mdash;that all I
+      pray for with all my heart is that no one will take any notice of me, and
+      I think I can say that my prayer is nearly always granted.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is because you are so dreadfully&mdash;so absurdly shy,&rdquo; said
+      Esther. &ldquo;You are the little mouse that is evermore on the look out for a
+      hole into which you can creep and be safe from the observation of all
+      eyes. You are ever trying to escape, unless when Mr. Garrick is here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear Hettina, I know my place&mdash;that is all. I have weak eyes, but
+      quick ears, and I have heard strangers ask, when they have heard you sing
+      and Susan play, who the little short-sighted girl in the corner is and
+      what she means to do for the entertainment of the company. When they are
+      assured that I am one of the clever Burney family they whisper an
+      incredulous 'No?' They cannot believe that so insignificant a person as
+      myself can be one of you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tis your morbid self-consciousness, Fanny, that suggests so much to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no; I was the dunce from the first. You know that while you could
+      read any book with ease when you were six, I did not even know my letters
+      when I was eight. Don't you remember how James made a jest of my thirst
+      for knowledge by pretending to teach me the alphabet with the page turned
+      upside down? And when you had gone to school at Paris and it was my turn
+      as the next eldest, the wise padre perceived in a moment that the money
+      would be much better spent upon Susan and Lottie, and they went to be
+      educated while I remained at home in ignorance? The dear padre was right:
+      he knew that I should have been miserable among bright girls away from
+      home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a pause before the elder sister said quite pathetically:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My poor Fanny! I wonder if you have not been treated shabbily among us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not. I, my Hettina. I have always been treated fairly. I have had as many
+      treats as any of you; when you were learning so much in Paris I have been
+      learning quite a number of things at home. And one of the most important
+      things I learned was that so brilliant a person as Signor Rauzzini could
+      never be happy if married to so insignificant a person as Fanny Burney.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Esther gave a little sigh of relief.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed I think that your conclusion is a right one, dear,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;We
+      both came to the conclusion&mdash;Charles and I&mdash;that it would be a
+      huge misfortune if you should allow yourself to be attracted by the
+      glamour that attaches to the appearance of such a man as the Rauzzini,
+      though, mind you, I believe that he honestly fancies himself in love with
+      you&mdash;oh, he made no disguise of it in talking with us last night. But
+      I hoped that you would be sensible.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, in the matter of sense I am the equal of anyone in the family,&rdquo; said
+      Fanny, laughing. &ldquo;That I mean to make my one accomplishment&mdash;good
+      sense. That is the precious endowment of the dunce of the clever family&mdash;good
+      sense; the one who stands next to the dunce in the lack of accomplishments
+      should be endowed with good nature. Good sense and good nature go hand in
+      hand in plain grey taffeta, not down the primrose paths of life, but along
+      the King's highway of every day, where they run no chance of jostling the
+      simple foot-passengers or exciting the envy of any by the flaunting of
+      feathers in their face. Good sense and good nature are best satisfied when
+      they attract no attention, but pass on to obscurity, smiling at the
+      struggle of others to be accounted persons of importance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you have indeed made up your mind to marry Mr. Barlowe?&rdquo; cried
+      Esther.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny laughed enigmatically.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Does it not mean rather that I have made up my mind not to marry Mr.
+      Barlowe?&rdquo; she cried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Esther looked puzzled: she was puzzled, and that was just what Fanny meant
+      her to be.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But then she looked piqued, as elder sisters do when puzzled by the words
+      or the acts of the younger. What business have younger sisters puzzling
+      their elders? Their doing so suggests pertness when the elders are
+      unmarried, but sheer insubordination when they are married; and Esther was
+      by no means willing at any time to abrogate the privileges of her position
+      as a married woman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I protest that I do not understand your meaning, Fanny,&rdquo; she said,
+      raising her chin in a way that gave her head a dignified poise. There was
+      also a chill dignity in the tone of her voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear Hettina, I ask your pardon,&rdquo; cried Fanny quickly. &ldquo;I fear that I
+      replied to you with a shameful unreasonableness. But indeed I am not sure
+      that you had reason on your side when you assumed that because I was ready
+      to acknowledge that it would not mean happiness to our dear Signor
+      Rauzzini to marry an insignificant person like myself, I was therefore
+      prepared to throw myself into the arms of Mr. Barlowe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I fancied that&mdash;that&mdash;but you may have another suitor in your
+      mind whose name you have not mentioned to anyone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why should it be necessary for me to have a suitor of any kind? Is it not
+      possible to conceive of the existence of a young woman without a row of
+      suitors in the background? I admit that the 'Odyssey' of Homer&mdash;you
+      remember how I used to listen to your reading of Mr. Broome's translation
+      to mother&mdash;would be shorn of much of its interest but for that
+      background of suitors in one of the last books, but&mdash;well, my dear
+      sister, I hold that the alternative song of life to the matrimonial duet
+      is the spinster's solo, and it does not seem to me to be quite devoid of
+      interest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I took it for granted&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; began Esther, when Fanny broke
+      in upon her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I know what all the happily wedded ones take for granted,&rdquo; she
+      cried. &ldquo;You assume that the wedded life is the only one worth living; but
+      as we are told in the Bible that there is one glory of the sun and another
+      of the moon, so I hold that I am justified in believing that if matrimony
+      be celestial, spinsterhood is terrestrial, but a glory all the same, and
+      not unattractive to me. I may be wise enough to content myself with the
+      subdued charm of moonlight if it so be that I am shut off from the midday
+      splendour of matrimony.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Esther did not laugh in the least as did her sister when she had spoken
+      with an air of finality. She only made a little motion with her shoulders
+      suggesting a shrug, while she said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope you will succeed in convincing mother that your views are the best
+      for the household; but I think you will have some difficulty in doing so,
+      considering what a family of girls we are.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not doubt that mother will be on the side of immediate matrimony and
+      poor Mr. Barlowe,&rdquo; said Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why poor Mr. Barlowe?&rdquo; cried Esther. &ldquo;He is a young man of excellent
+      principles, and he has never given his parents a day's trouble. It is
+      understood that if he marries sensibly he will be admitted to a
+      partnership in the business, so that&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Principles and a partnership make for matrimonial happiness, I doubt
+      not,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;And I doubt not that Dr. Fell had both excellent
+      principles and an excellent practice; still someone has recorded in
+      deathless verse that she&mdash;I assume the sex&mdash;did not like that
+      excellent man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you do not like Mr. Barlowe on the same mysterious grounds?&rdquo; said
+      Hetty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, I am not so unreasonable, I hope,&rdquo; replied Fanny. &ldquo;But&mdash;but&mdash;dear
+      sister, I remember how I thought that the song of the linnet which was in
+      our little garden at Lynn was the loveliest strain of the grove, and such
+      was my belief until I awoke one night at Chessington and heard the
+      nightingale.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are puzzling&mdash;singularly puzzling today,&rdquo; said Esther frowning.
+      &ldquo;You have started two or three mystifying parables already. You told me
+      some time ago as a great secret that you had been renewing your
+      story-writing, in spite of your having burnt all that you had written for
+      our edification&mdash;all that story&mdash;what was its name? The heroine
+      was one Caroline Evelyn. You were ever an obedient child, or you would not
+      have sacrificed your offspring at the bidding of our new mother, though
+      the advice that she gave you was good, if you have not quite adhered to
+      it. Novel writing is not for young ladies any more than novel reading, and
+      certainly talking in parables is worse still. Well, I have no more time to
+      spend over your puzzles.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You would not find their solution to repay you, my dear,&rdquo; said Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Still, I am pleased to learn that you take a sensible view of Signor
+      Rauzzini and his heroics&mdash;but, indeed, I cannot see that Mr. Barlowe
+      should not be considered, with his prospects&mdash;his father is a mercer
+      in gold and silver lace, as you know&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have heard so&mdash;it is a profitable trade, I believe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;None more so. It is impossible to believe that a time will ever come when
+      gold and silver lace will cease to be worn by gentlemen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That would be an evil day for England as well as for Messieurs Barlowe,
+      <i>père et fils</i>. But thank heaven it is not yet in sight. Good
+      morning, dear sister; and be assured you have my thanks for your advice.
+      But mind you keep my little secret about the writing. Good-bye. You can
+      face mother boldly, knowing that you have carried out her commission to
+      the letter, and very neatly and discreetly into the bargain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I would not have done so if her views had not been mine also; as for your
+      writing&mdash;you may depend on my keeping your secret. But you will have
+      to get the padre's permission to have it printed&mdash;that's something
+      still in the far future, I suppose;&rdquo;&mdash;and the elder sister stooped to
+      kiss the younger&mdash;Fanny was not up to the shoulder of the beautiful
+      and stately Esther.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And so they parted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VIII
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>ANNY BURNEY had
+      been forced, for the first time, to make her sister aware of the fact that
+      she knew she was looked on as the dunce of the brilliant Burney family.
+      She could see that her doing so had startled her sister, for neither
+      Esther nor any of the other girls had ever suggested to her that they
+      thought of her as being on a different level from themselves, though it
+      was tacitly allowed that it was a great pity that Fanny did not emulate
+      them in taking pains to shine as it was expected the children of that
+      estimable master of music, Dr. Burney, should shine, so as to make the
+      house in that narrow little street off Leicester Fields attractive to its
+      many distinguished visitors.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny had truly defined her place in the household. She had recognized her
+      place for several years; but there was not the least suggestion of rancour
+      in her tone when talking to her brilliant elder sister, for the simple
+      reason that there was no bitterness in her heart against any member of the
+      family for being cleverer than herself. Fanny took pride in the
+      accomplishments of her sisters, and was quite content with her position in
+      relation to them. She got on well with all of them, because she was fond
+      of them all, and they were all fond of her. She had not rebelled when her
+      father had sent her younger sisters to be educated in Paris, and had
+      allowed her to pick up her own education as best she might in his own
+      library; and it had been a great happiness to her to be allowed the
+      privilege of copying out for the press the first volume of her father's
+      &ldquo;History of Music.&rdquo; It was her stepmother who, finding out that Fanny had
+      what Mrs. Burney called &ldquo;a taste for writing,&rdquo; had suggested that that was
+      the legitimate channel in which such a taste should flow; and it was her
+      stepmother who had induced her to make a bonfire of all her own writings&mdash;the
+      scribblings of her girlhood that represented the foolish errant flow of
+      her &ldquo;taste for writing &ldquo;: and now and again she had a consciousness of her
+      own duplicity in failing to resist the impulse that had come upon her to
+      do some more of what her mother termed her &ldquo;girlish scribbling.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      One of the guilty secrets that Fanny cherished was that when it was
+      believed she was writing her long letters to her old friend Mr. Crisp, she
+      had been composing a novel which was now about to be given to the world;
+      the second was that Signor Rauzzini, the handsome young Roman singer with
+      whom half the fashionable ladies of the town were in love, was in love
+      with her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      These were two secrets worth the cherishing, she knew; and the thought of
+      them more than compensated her for the reflection that she was the dunce
+      of the family, and that the unconscious tone of patronage adopted toward
+      her by her elder sister and the dreadful compliments paid to her plain
+      sewing, as though plain sewing represented the highest hopes that could
+      reasonably be entertained in regard to her, were only to be looked for in
+      the circumstances.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The two secrets were closely bound up together, she knew. She had the
+      deepest affection for Signor Rauzzini. How could she fail to return the
+      feeling which the whisper of his musical voice had told her he had
+      conceived for her? He loved her in spite of the fact that she was the
+      least attractive member of the family&mdash;in spite of the fact that half
+      the town was at his feet, and that he might have made his choice from
+      among the best. He had chosen her whom no one else had ever noticed, with
+      the exception of her father's old friend, Mr. Crisp, and&mdash;oh, yes
+      (she laughed now, perceiving that she had done an injustice to the other
+      person who had been attracted to her&mdash;mainly, she thought, on account
+      of her reputation for plain sewing)&mdash;a young man named Thomas
+      Barlowe, the excellent son of the well-known mercer of gold and silver
+      lace, in the Poultry!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thinking of young Mr. Barlowe by the side of Signor Rauzzini, Fanny
+      laughed again. She had so restricted an opinion of her own attractiveness
+      that the tears actually came into her eyes for having given that derisive
+      laugh as she compared the two young men; and she felt that she had been
+      grossly ungrateful to young Mr. Barlowe; for even young Mr. Barlowe had a
+      right to look above her level for a wife. As the daughter of a simple
+      music master with a large family she could have no endowment so far as
+      worldly goods were concerned; and she knew that the practical parents of
+      young business men, as a rule, looked for their sons to marry, if not
+      great fortunes, at least young women with a few thousands to their names.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She felt that she had treated the condescending young Mr. Barlowe very
+      badly in laughing at the poor figure he cut by the side of the angelic
+      Roman singer&mdash;she had failed to resist the temptation to call Signor
+      Rauzzini angelic in one of her letters to Mr. Crisp&mdash;and now, in
+      thinking of Mr. Barlowe as a very worthy young man, she was unconsciously
+      relegating him to a hopeless position as a lover. It is not the very
+      worthy young men who are beloved by young women of a romantic temperament:
+      if it were there would be very few romances left. But little Miss Burney
+      desired only to ease the twinges of her conscience for having laughed at
+      the thought of young Tommy Barlowe; and she thought that she had done the
+      right thing in assuring herself that he was a very worthy person.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then she thought no more about him. She had a feeling that to give
+      another thought to him when she had such a man as Signor Rauzzini to think
+      about, would be a constructive act of treason in regard to Rauzzini. She
+      had received many hints from her stepmother to the effect that all the
+      family considered her to be a very fortunate young woman (all things taken
+      into account) in having a chance of marrying the Thomas who seemed ready
+      to pay his addresses to her; but though quite submissive to her stepmother
+      in household matters, she was ready to face her with the &ldquo;Never!&rdquo; of the
+      avowed rebel in the matter of consenting to wed the highly approved
+      Thomas, and so she dismissed him from her thoughts, in favour of the man
+      whom she loved.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But thinking of the man whom she loved was by no means equivalent to
+      passing into a region of unalloyed happiness. She had mystified her sister
+      by the way in which she had spoken about Signor Rauzzini, and the seal had
+      been put upon the mystery by her frank acknowledgment that she did not
+      think a union between so distinguished a man as Rauzzini and so
+      insignificant a person as herself was likely to be satisfactory.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had certainly allowed Hetty to go away believing that this was in her
+      mind; and that was just what was in her mind when her thoughts turned from
+      Thomas, whom she considered so estimable, to Rauzzini, whom she loved. She
+      loved the Roman singer so truly that she had made a resolution never to
+      consent to his marrying anyone so insignificant as she believed herself to
+      be.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had no illusions regarding herself. She knew just how good-looking she
+      was; she knew that by the side of any of her sisters she was almost plain;
+      but that she had a pleasing, simple face of a very ordinary type. She knew
+      that she could love with the truest devotion and she could trust herself
+      not to change with time. But she felt that these were not beyond the
+      traits of the ordinary young woman, and that they did not lift her from
+      the level of insignificance to the level of Signor Rauzzini.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She knew that she was at that moment an insignificant person; and she made
+      no attempt to think of herself as otherwise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yes; but she had heard of people&mdash;even young women&mdash;being
+      insignificant one day, and the next springing to a pinnacle of fame to
+      which all eyes looked up. How would it be if she were destined to reach in
+      a moment a position that would place her on a level with the man of her
+      thoughts&mdash;the man whose fame as a singer had caused him to be the
+      centre round which every conversation in the most notable circles turned?
+      Everyone was talking in praise of Rauzzini; and she herself thought of him
+      as occupying a place on a height as far above her as King Cophetua's
+      throne was above the marble steps at the foot of which the beggar maid had
+      crouched; but in her mind there was the possibility that her name might
+      one day be spoken by the world in connection with an achievement that
+      would raise her from the insignificance of Fanny Burney to the importance
+      of Signor Rauzzini, and prevent people from asking what on earth had
+      induced so glorious a person as he to make her his wife!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That was the secret dream which filled the imagination of this imaginative
+      young woman&mdash;the same dream as comes to so many young women who have
+      written the last chapter of a book and sent it forth for the world to
+      receive with acclaim&mdash;the dream of fame&mdash;of immortality! She had
+      written a novel and it was about to be given to the world, if the world
+      would have it, and upon its success her happiness depended. If it brought
+      her fame, it would place her by the side of the man whom she loved; but if
+      it failed, then she would remain a person of no significance, and quite
+      unworthy of sharing the honours which were showered upon her lover. She
+      had imagination, and this faculty it was that made her more than doubtful
+      of the success of King Cophetua's rash experiment. She felt sure that King
+      Cophetua had now and again, turning suddenly round, caught one of his
+      courtiers with his tongue in his cheek when his Majesty was entering the
+      throne-room with his shy and insignificant Queen by his side, and that the
+      Queen had occasionally overheard the whispers of her maids of honour, when
+      they did not know she was at hand, asking one another what on earth the
+      King had seen in her that induced him to make her his consort. Little Miss
+      Burney had long ago made up her mind that the union of King Cophetua and
+      his beggar maid was far from being a happy one&mdash;that the King looked
+      around him and saw several princesses of great beauty and quite devoid of
+      shyness who were fully acquainted with the convenances of his court and
+      would not, if he had married any one of them, have made the mistakes which
+      she was sure the young person whom he had elevated had fallen into,
+      causing him constant irritation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Little Miss Burney had resolved that she would never play the part of a
+      crowned beggar maid. The man whom she loved had won fame for himself, and
+      she would not go to him unless she, too, had at least made such a name for
+      herself as should prevent her from feeling herself in the position of the
+      beggar maid whom King Cophetua had raised to his side. Little Miss Burney
+      resolved that although she could scarcely expect to go to her lover
+      wearing purple robes embroidered with gold, she could, at any rate,
+      refrain from wearing beggars' rags. She had her ambitions, and she felt
+      that they were not ignoble, but that they made for the happiness of the
+      man she loved, and who had been gracious enough to love her&mdash;the
+      least attractive member of the family.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But after she had sat for some time with her hands lying idle on the
+      sempstress' work at which she had been engaged on the departure of her
+      sister&mdash;after her imagination had carried her much farther away than
+      she intended it should, she was sensible of a return to the cold world
+      from which she had soared. Her heart, which had begun to beat quickly when
+      Hetty had told her how the divine Rauzzini had spoken of her, sank within
+      her as she seemed to hear a voice asking who was she that she should hope
+      to reach by the publication of that story which she had been writing by
+      stealth and at odd times during the past three years, even the smallest
+      measure of fame that would compare with that of Signor Rauzzini? What fame
+      attached to the writing of a novel in comparison with that achieved by the
+      enchantment of a singer who had power to move the hearts of men and women
+      as it pleased him? Orpheus&mdash;ah, what fame could compare with the fame
+      of Orpheus, the singer? His was a heaven-sent gift. What was her little
+      talent compared with such a gift? If she had the ability even to make
+      music such as one of her sisters could bring forth from the keys of the
+      piano, she would have a better chance of being accounted worthy of a place
+      beside Signor Rauzzini than if her novel found its way to the shelves of
+      many readers. The writing of a novel was a poor achievement&mdash;nay, in
+      the opinion of a good many people, including her own stepmother&mdash;a
+      most practical woman&mdash;it was something to be ashamed of; and Fanny
+      herself, thinking over all the novels written by women which she herself
+      had read&mdash;most of them surreptitiously&mdash;was disposed to agree
+      with her. That was why she had kept as a secret for more than three years
+      the fact that she was trying to write a novel. Her father knew nothing of
+      it, and her stepmother was equally uninformed. Even her old friend Mr.
+      Crisp, to whom she wrote voluminous letters week after week, and to whom
+      she gave her confidence on many matters, had no suspicion that she had
+      written her novel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had thought it prudent to keep this matter hidden from them, for she
+      did not doubt that if she had told any one of them of her project, she
+      would never have a chance of realizing it. They would certainly have
+      pronounced against such a proceeding even before a page of her novel came
+      to be written.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And yet it was the thought that this novel was shortly to be published
+      that had caused her to feel that she was drawing nearer to her lover.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As she reflected upon this, sitting idly over her work when her sister had
+      left the house, her tears began to fall, not in a torrent, but slowly
+      dropping at intervals upon the fabric which she had been sewing. She felt
+      very sad, very hopeless, very lonely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nor could it be said that the sudden return of Mrs. Burney meant a return
+      of happiness to the girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Burney did not consider that Fanny had made satisfactory progress
+      with her work, and did not hesitate to express her opinion to this effect.
+      But she was not imprudently unkind; for young Mr. Barlowe had just written
+      to her, begging permission to pay his respects to Mrs. Burney and her
+      daughter that evening, and she meant that Fanny should be in a good humour
+      to entertain him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Burney had great hopes that the question of Fanny's future&mdash;a
+      constant topic of conversation and consultation between her and her
+      husband&mdash;might be settled by a series of visits of young Mr. Barlowe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER IX
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">Y</span>OUNG Mr. Barlowe
+      took himself very seriously, and he had every right to do so; for a more
+      serious young man was not to be found in business in London. He had been
+      brought up to look upon everything in the world as having an intimate
+      connection with business, and it had always been impressed upon him that
+      business meant the increase of money, and that there was hardly anything
+      in the world worth giving a thought to apart from the increase of money.
+      It never occurred to any of his preceptors to suggest that the advantage
+      of increasing one's money lay in the splendid possibilities of spending
+      it. The art of making money forms the whole curriculum of a business man's
+      education; he is supposed to require no instruction in the art of spending
+      it. Thus it is that, by attending only to one side of the question, so
+      many business men lead much less interesting lives than they might, if
+      they had it in their power to place themselves under the guidance of a
+      trustworthy professor of the Art of Spending. But no Chair of Spending has
+      yet been provided at any University, nor is there any instructor on this
+      important branch of business education at any of the City schools, hence
+      it is that the sons of so many money-making men turn out spendthrifts.
+      They have been taught only one side of the great money question, and that
+      the less important side into the bargain. In making an honest endeavour to
+      master the other side, usually on the death of a father or a bachelor
+      uncle, both looked on as close-fisted curmudgeons, a good many young men
+      find themselves in difficulties.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Young Mr. Barlowe, on being introduced to the Burney family, through the
+      circumstance of Mrs. Burney's first husband having done business with Mr.
+      Barlowe the elder, found himself in a strange atmosphere. He had never
+      before imagined the existence of a household where music and plays and
+      books were talked about as if these were the profitable topics of life.
+      Previously he had lived in a house where the only profitable topic was
+      thought to be the Profits. At his father's table in the Poultry the
+      conversation never travelled beyond the Profits. The likelihood of a rise
+      in the price of gold or silver sometimes induced the father to increase
+      his stock of bullion without delay, and then if the price rose, he could
+      conscientiously charge his customers for the lace at such a rate per ounce
+      as gave him a clear five per cent, extra profit; and it was upon such
+      possibilities that the conversation in the Poultry parlour invariably
+      turned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And here were these Burneys talking with extraordinary eagerness and
+      vivacity upon such matters as the treatment by a singer named Gabrielli of
+      one of the phrases in a song of Mr. Handel's, beginning: &ldquo;Angels ever
+      bright and fair&rdquo;! For himself, young Mr. Barlowe thought that there was no
+      need for so much repetition in any song. &ldquo;Angels ever bright and fair,
+      Take, oh take me to your care&rdquo;&mdash;that was the whole thing, as it
+      seemed to him; and when that request had been made once he thought it was
+      quite enough; to repeat it half a dozen times was irritating and really
+      tended to defeat its purpose. Only children in the nursery kept
+      reiterating their requests. But he had heard Dr. Burney and his
+      son-in-law, Esther's husband, discuss the Gabrielli's apparently
+      unauthorized pause before the second violins suggested (as it appeared to
+      the younger musician) a whisper of assent floating from the heaven; and
+      all the members of the family except Fanny had taken sides in the
+      controversy, as though a thing like that had any bearing upon the daily
+      life of the City!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thomas Barlowe was amazed at the childishness of the discussion, and he
+      was particularly struck by the silence of Fanny on this occasion. She was
+      silent, he was sure, because she agreed with him in thinking it ridiculous
+      to waste words over a point that should be relegated to the nursery for
+      settlement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They seem pleasant enough people in their way,&rdquo; he told his mother after
+      his first visit. &ldquo;But they know nothing of what is going on in the world&mdash;the
+      real world, of which the Poultry is the centre. It might be expected that
+      the young man who is a naval officer and has seen the world would know
+      something of the import of the question when I asked him what direction he
+      thought gold would move in; but he only winked and replied, 'Not across my
+      hawse, I dare swear,' and the others laughed as if he had said something
+      humorous.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mayhap it was humorous,&rdquo; suggested his mother gravely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It would be sheer ribaldry for anyone to jest upon such a subject as the
+      fluctuations in the price of silver,&rdquo; said Thomas slowly. &ldquo;Lieutenant
+      Burney must surely know how serious a matter would be a fall of a fraction
+      of a crown when we have bought heavily in prospect of a rise. But Miss
+      Burney looks to be different from the others of the family. I have told
+      you that while her father, and indeed all the rest, were talking excitedly
+      on that ridiculous point in Mr. Handel's music, she sat in silence. She is
+      short-sighted, but I noticed more than once that she had her eyes fixed on
+      me, as if she had found something to study in me. She is, I think, a
+      steady, observant young lady. When Mrs. Burney said she hoped that I would
+      visit them again, I think I perceived a sort of interest on Miss Burney's
+      face as she awaited my answer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Thomas had resolved not to frustrate the hopes that Mrs. Burney had
+      expressed as to his paying another visit&mdash;as a matter of fact he had
+      come three times, and on every occasion he had devoted himself to Fanny&mdash;to
+      be more exact than Mrs. Burney, who had described his attentions in this
+      phrase, he had passed his time subjecting her to a sort of catechism with
+      a view to discover if she would make him the sort of wife that would suit
+      him. It appeared that the result of his inquisition was satisfactory, and
+      that his attentions were gradually becoming intentions; but Mrs. Burney
+      had never gone farther than to comment favourably to Fanny upon the young
+      man's steadiness, and to suggest that the young woman whom he might choose
+      to be his wife would be fortunate, steady young men with good prospects in
+      the City being far from abundant. She had never gone so far as to ask
+      Fanny if she would accept good fortune coming to her in such a form;
+      though Fanny knew very well that she had asked Esther to sound her on this
+      point.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      How far Esther's mission was accounted successful by their stepmother,
+      Fanny, of course, could not guess; but at any rate Thomas was to pay a
+      visit after dinner, and Fanny felt that it was necessary for her to be
+      discreet. It had been very interesting for her to study Thomas, with the
+      possibility before her of writing a second novel, in which some of his
+      traits of character might be introduced with advantage; but she perceived
+      how there was a likelihood of her course of study being paid for at too
+      high a rate; so she resolved&mdash;to be discreet beyond her ordinary
+      exercise of a virtue which she displayed at all times of her life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So Thomas came to the house in St. Martin's Street while tea was being
+      served in the drawingroom, to the accompaniment of a duet on the piano&mdash;Dr.
+      Burney had quickly perceived the merits of this new instrument over that
+      of the harpsichord&mdash;between Susan and her father. Very close to the
+      instrument, pressing the receiver of his ear-trumpet to the woodwork of
+      the case, sat Sir Joshua Reynolds, while his sister&mdash;a lady of middle
+      age who was gradually relinquishing the idea that she, too, could paint
+      portraits&mdash;was suffering Mrs. Burney to explain to her the advantages
+      of Lynn over London as a place of residence for people anxious to
+      economize.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny was at the table where the teapot and urn were being drawn on, and
+      close to her sat her brother James, with a volume like an account-book
+      lying face down on the table while he drank his tea.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The progress of the duet was not arrested by the entrance of young Mr.
+      Barlowe, but he looked in the direction of the instrument when he had
+      shaken hands with Mrs. Burney and bowed to Miss Reynolds. It was obvious
+      that he was mystified by seeing Sir Joshua's ear-trumpet pressed against
+      the sound-conducting case of the piano. He was still looking at it with
+      curious eyes while he greeted Fanny with the concentrated politeness of
+      the Poultry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lieutenant Burney roused himself from his lolling attitude when he saw the
+      puzzled look on the young man's face, and he obligingly endeavoured to
+      explain away the mystery.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Tis no wonder that you are amazed, Mr. Barlowe,&rdquo; he said in a whisper.
+      &ldquo;I own that when it was first brought to my notice I thought it
+      extraordinary. A marvellous instrument, is it not, that is played by the
+      ear instead of by the mouth? And yet you must own that some of the notes
+      it produces are very fine&mdash;much more delicate than could be produced
+      by any other means.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not profess to be a judge of music, sir,&rdquo; said Thomas; &ldquo;but I know
+      what pleases me.&rdquo; Fanny wondered how often she had heard that same boast&mdash;the
+      attempt of complete ignorance to be accredited with the virtue of
+      frankness. &ldquo;Yes, I own that I consider the music monstrous pretty; but
+      with the ear&mdash;that is what puzzles me: it seems a simple trumpet,
+      such as is blown by the mouth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pray do not let my father hear you say that, Mr. Barlowe,&rdquo; whispered
+      James. &ldquo;That instrument is his fondest. You know that he has written a
+      'History of Music'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All the world knows that, sir,&rdquo; replied Thomas gallantly. &ldquo;I have not yet
+      found time to read it myself, but&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Neither have I, sir; but I understand that that instrument which seems
+      new to such simpletons as you and I is really as ancient as the pyramids
+      of Egypt&mdash;nay, more so, for my father discovered in his researches
+      that this was the identical form of the first instrument made by Tubal
+      Cain himself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is't possible? In our Family Bible there is a picture of Tubal Cain, but
+      he is depicted blowing through a conch shell.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A shell! Ah! such was the ignorance of the world on these matters before
+      my father wrote his History. But he has managed to clear up many points
+      upon which complete ignorance or very erroneous opinions prevailed. It is
+      not generally known, for instance, that Tubal had his second name given to
+      him by reason of his habitually murdering every musical piece that he
+      attempted to play.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But he was the inventor, was he not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite true, Mr. Barlowe. But that fact, you must admit, only made his
+      offence the more flagrant. So the inscriptions on the rocks assert; and
+      there are some sensible people nowadays who believe that Tubal's second
+      and very suggestive name should be coupled with the names of many more
+      recent performers on musical instruments.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You do not allude to the gentleman who is playing that new instrument&mdash;I
+      mean that very ancient instrument&mdash;by the side of Dr. Burney?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, surely not. That gentleman is one of the most notable performers of
+      our age, Mr. Barlowe. I ask you plainly, sir, have you ever seen, even at
+      a raree show, a musician who could play an instrument with his ear and
+      produce such a good effect? You can easily believe that a vast amount of
+      ingenuity is needed to produce even the simplest sound in that way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I had not it demonstrated before my eyes I should not believe it
+      possible. I protest, sir, that the effect is very pretty. Is't not so,
+      Miss Burney?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young man turned to Fanny, who was doing her best to refrain from an
+      outburst of laughter; she could not trust herself to put her cup of tea to
+      her lips while her brother was continuing his fooling. She thought that it
+      was scarcely good manners of him to play such a jest upon a visitor,
+      though she knew the ward-room code of manners which her naval brother had
+      acquired was very liberal on such points. She was about to give Mr.
+      Barlowe a hint of the truth of Sir Joshua's ear-trumpet, but James,
+      perceiving her intention, defeated it by saying in a tone above a whisper:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cain&mdash;we mentioned Cain, did we not, Mr. Barlowe? Oh, yes; and it
+      must have occurred to you how strangely customs have altered during the
+      past ten years&mdash;how strongly opposed people are to-day to principles
+      that were accepted without demur so recently as in our own boyhood. You
+      take my meaning, sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Barlowe did not look as if he quite grasped Lieutenant Burney's drift,
+      and Fanny felt it incumbent on her to prevent further fooling (as he
+      thought she would) by remarking:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My brother means, Mr. Barlowe, that 'tis remarkable how many changes are
+      being made in many ways&mdash;but what he had in his mind was, of course,
+      in respect to the forte-piano&mdash;on which my father and sister are
+      playing a duet: only a few years ago no one thought to improve upon the
+      harpsichord; and yet my father asserts that in a short time the
+      harpsichord will be no more than a curiosity&mdash;that the forte-piano&mdash;or
+      as we simply call it now, the piano, will take its place in every
+      household. That is what you meant, was it not, James?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was thinking of Cain and his profession&mdash;Cain, the good old
+      murderer, rather than of Tubal Cain, who was perhaps equally criminal in
+      inventing the liveliest source of human torture,&rdquo; replied James gravely.
+      &ldquo;Yes, I was thinking&mdash;suggested by the mention of Cain&mdash;how
+      strange people nowadays would regard my father's intentions regarding my
+      future when he assumed that I should have the best chance for cultivating
+      my bent, which he had early recognized in me, by sending me, before it
+      became too late, to be educated for the profession to an accomplished
+      murderer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER X
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">Y</span>OUNG Mr. Barlowe
+      started so violently that he spilt his tea over his knees; for just before
+      James had uttered his last sentence the music stopped, but as it had been
+      somewhat loud in the final bars, and James had raised his voice in the
+      same proportion, the inertia of his tone defied any attempt to modulate
+      it, so that it was almost with a shout that he had declared that he had
+      been sent to be educated in his profession to a murderer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny was too much overcome by the ludicrous aspect of the contretemps to
+      be able to laugh. Her brother, who had had no intention of startling
+      anyone in the room except young Mr. Barlowe, hung his head and was
+      blushing under the South Sea tan of his skin; Sir Joshua Reynolds had
+      heard nothing after the crashing chords that concluded the duet; but poor
+      Miss Reynolds almost sprang from her chair in horror.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Burney was very angry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have been making a fool of yourself as usual, James,&rdquo; she cried.
+      &ldquo;Pray give Mr. Barlowe another cup of tea, Fanny. I vow that 'tis a shame
+      for you, James Burney, to treat such a company as though you were on the
+      deck of the <i>Adventure</i> facing your South Sea savages.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But Dr. Burney, with his customary tact, raised a hand half reprovingly
+      toward his wife.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Give Mr. Barlowe his cup, and then pass one to me, Fanny,&rdquo; he said,
+      rising from the piano. &ldquo;You know that James has spoken no more than the
+      truth, my dear,&rdquo; he added, smiling at his wife. &ldquo;I can see that the rascal
+      has been fooling while our backs were turned to him; but we know that he
+      spoke no more than the truth&mdash;at least in that one sentence which he
+      bawled out for us. He was, indeed, sent to a school where he was placed
+      under an accomplished usher who was some time after hanged as a murderer.
+      You see, madam&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; he had turned, still smiling, to Miss
+      Reynolds, thereby doing much to restore her confidence in the sanity of
+      the family&mdash;&ldquo;You see that James was from the first so desperate a
+      young rascal that, just as a boy who is an adept at figures is educated
+      for the counting-house, and one who spends all the day before he is six
+      picking out tunes on the harpsichord should be apprenticed, as I was, to a
+      musician, so we thought our James should be sent whither he could be
+      properly grounded in the only profession at which he was likely to excel.
+      But, alas! the poor usher was carried off by the police, tried at the next
+      assizes and duly hanged before James had made much progress in his
+      studies; but I believe that a few years in the navy does as much for a
+      youth who has made up his mind to succeed, as a protracted course under a
+      fully qualified criminal.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Reynolds looked as if she were not quite certain that, in spite of
+      his smiles, Dr. Burney was jesting; but when Mrs. Burney, seeing how her
+      husband's mock seriousness was likely to produce a wrong impression upon
+      plain people, said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must recall hearing about Mr. Eugene Aram some years back, Mrs.
+      Reynolds,&rdquo; that lady showed that her mind was greatly relieved.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I recall the matter without difficulty,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;The man was usher at
+      the grammar school at Lynn.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And no school had a more learned teacher than that unfortunate man,&rdquo; said
+      Sir Joshua. Young Mr. Barlowe had been divided in his amazement at what
+      Dr. Burney had said, and at the sight of Sir Joshua holding the trumpet to
+      his ear, though the instrument remained mute. He had never found himself
+      within the circle of so startling a society. He wished himself safe at
+      home in the Poultry, where people talked sense and made no attempt to blow
+      a trumpet with their ears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;James had acquired quite a liking for poor Aram,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney, &ldquo;and,
+      indeed, I own to having had a high opinion of the man's ability myself. It
+      was to enable him to purchase books necessary for his studies in philology
+      that he killed his victim&mdash;a contemptible curmudgeon named Johnstone.
+      I fear that all our sympathy was on the side of the usher.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was greatly interested in Mr. Aram, and read a full account of his
+      trial,&rdquo; said Sir Joshua.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wonder that a man of so sensitive a mind as his did not so brood over
+      his crime as to cause suspicion to fall on him earlier than it did.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only upon one occasion it seemed that he was affected by an incident
+      which might possibly have awakened some suspicion in the mind of a person
+      given to suspicion,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;James had been presented with a copy of the translation of Gessner's
+      'Death of Abel'&mdash;everyone was going mad about the book that year&mdash;more
+      copies were sold of it than of any translation since Pope's 'Homer,' but I
+      fancy James found it dull enough reading. He had it on his knee trying to
+      get through a page or two in case the kind donor might question him upon
+      it, when the usher came up. He took the volume in his hand and glanced at
+      the title. Down the book fell from his grasp and he hurried away without a
+      word&mdash;'as if he had been stung,' James said, in telling us about it,
+      to excuse the broken cover. Of course, I never gave a thought to the
+      matter at the time; but when I heard of the arrest of Eugene Aram the
+      following year, I recalled the incident.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should like to make a picture of the scene, and name it 'Remorse,'&rdquo;
+       said Reynolds.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      (<i>He never did make such a picture; many years had passed, and
+      Lieutenant Burney had become an Admiral before his narration of the
+      incident touched the imagination of a poet who dealt with it in verse that
+      has thrilled a good many readers.</i>)
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thomas Barlowe was not greatly thrilled by the story as told by Dr.
+      Burney. He seemed rather shocked to find himself at the table with someone
+      who had been taught by a murderer. He glanced furtively at James Burney,
+      who had remained silent since the contretemps that had prevented him from
+      perfecting his fooling of Thomas; and the result of Thomas's scrutiny at
+      that moment was to cause Thomas a tremor; for who could say what fearful
+      knowledge Lieutenant Burney might have acquired during his intercourse
+      with the murderer&mdash;knowledge which might jeopardize the safety of a
+      simple visitor like himself? Thomas felt that no ordinary person could be
+      accounted absolutely safe in a company that included a tall, able-bodied
+      young naval man who had begun his education under a murderer and had gone
+      to complete it among the cannibals of the South Seas; and, in addition, an
+      elderly gentleman who fancied that he could bring any sound out of a
+      trumpet by pressing it to his ear instead of his lips, and had shown
+      himself ready to extol the scholarship of any man who had been hanged.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But then Thomas looked at Fanny, and she pleased him more than ever. She
+      was so demure, so modest, so shy. She had a very pretty blush, and she did
+      not play on the piano. It was a thousand pities, he felt, that such a girl
+      should be compelled to remain in such uncongenial companionship. All the
+      time that Dr. Burney and his other daughter were playing a second duet,
+      and the silly gentleman holding the bell of his trumpet to the case of the
+      piano, still fondly believing that he was also a performer with the
+      mouth-piece in his ear, Thomas Barlowe was feeling wave after wave of pity
+      passing over him for the unhappy position of the shy girl in the midst of
+      so doubtful a household. Before long his compassion for her so stimulated
+      his imagination that he began to think of the possibility of his rescuing
+      her&mdash;he began to think of himself in the character of a hero&mdash;he
+      did not remember the name of any particular hero who had carried off a
+      young woman who was placed in a similar situation to that occupied by Miss
+      Burney; but he had no doubt that more than one romance was founded upon
+      the doings of such a man as he felt himself fully qualified to be, if he
+      made up his mind to assume such a rôle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As the music continued&mdash;it was an arrangement of Bach's <i>Orfèo</i>&mdash;Thomas
+      Barlowe became more and more resolute. He would be the heroic person who
+      should appear at the right moment and achieve the emancipation of that
+      sweet and shy girl, who by no fault of hers was forced to live in that
+      house and remain, if she could, on friendly terms with her father and
+      sisters, who kept strumming on the piano, and with her brother, who was
+      ready to boast of having received the rudiments of his education from a
+      murderer. All that he needed was the opportunity to show his heroism, and
+      he did not doubt that when he set his mind to work on the matter, he would
+      have such an opportunity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      If anyone had whispered in his ear that his inward consciousness of being
+      equal to the doing of great deeds was solely due to the music which was
+      being played, and to which he was unwillingly listening, he would have
+      been indignant. He would have thought it preposterous had it been
+      suggested to him that the effect of that strumming was to make him feel
+      more like a god than a man&mdash;to be ready to face hell for the love of
+      a woman, as Jean Sebastian Bach imagined Orpheus doing for Eurydice. But
+      Jean Sebastian Bach knew what he was about when he had composed his <i>Orfèo</i>,
+      and Dr. Burney was quite equal to the business of interpreting his aims,
+      and of urging his daughter Susan to join with him in impressing them upon
+      even so unimpressionable a nature as that of Thomas Barlowe; so that while
+      Thomas Barlowe believed that this music was one of the most petty of all
+      human interests, it was making him think such thoughts as had never before
+      entered his mind&mdash;it was giving him aspirations from which in
+      ordinary circumstances he would have shrunk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The master musician and his interpreters were making sport of him, leading
+      him if not quite into the region of the heroic, at least to the boundary
+      of that region, and supplying him with a perspective glass, as the
+      Interpreter did to the Pilgrims, by the aid of which he might see the
+      wonderful things that had been beyond his natural scope.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And that was how it came about that he gazed into Miss Burney's eyes and
+      pressed her hand at parting with a tenderness he had never previously
+      associated with his leave-taking. He felt sure that Miss Burney would
+      understand what he meant, though he knew that he would have difficulty in
+      expressing it all to her in words; for the effect of the music was to make
+      him feel that he could put so much feeling into a look, into a squeeze of
+      the hand, as would touch the heart of any young woman and cause her to be
+      certain that she might trust him though all other help might fail her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That was the effect which the heroic music had upon him, though he did not
+      know it; it made him feel willing to face hell for her sake at that
+      moment, and even until he had walked through more than a mile of the
+      network of streets that lay between Leicester Fields and the Poultry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the effect of such an intoxicant as music upon such a nature as his is
+      not lasting. Before he had reached Cheapside his own individuality was
+      beginning to assert itself; and he wondered if he had not gone too far for
+      discretion&mdash;discretion being, according to his reckoning, the power
+      to withdraw from a position that might compromise him. And before he
+      reached his home he had got the length of wondering how he had so far
+      forgotten himself as to yield to that compromising impulse represented by
+      the gaze and the squeeze. He could not for the life of him understand what
+      had come over him at that moment; for he had by no means satisfied himself
+      that Miss Burney was the young woman who would make him comfortable as his
+      wife. He still thought highly of her on account of her modesty and her
+      dainty shyness, but marriage was a serious matter, and he was not sure
+      that he should take her for his wife.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the whole, he felt that he had had a very trying evening&mdash;between
+      the Lieutenant who had so nearly qualified to practise as a murderer, and
+      the father and daughter who seemed ready to strum their duets until
+      midnight, to say nothing of the foolish gentleman who tried to play the
+      trumpet with his ear; and Thomas made up his mind that he would not trust
+      himself into the midst of so unusual a circle until he was certain that he
+      wanted to marry the young woman whose hand he had, for some reason or
+      other, pressed at parting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Mrs. Burney had noticed much more clearly than Fanny had done the
+      expression that the face of Thomas Barlowe had worn when he had looked
+      into the girl's eyes; she had measured to the fraction of a second the
+      duration of his holding of her hand beyond the time essential for the
+      discharge of the ordinary courtesy of a hand-shake; and she was satisfied
+      that Thomas was progressing in his wooing of the least attractive and
+      certainly the least accomplished member of the family. The good woman
+      thought, however, that it was rather a pity that her husband and Susan had
+      persisted in the practice of their duets; for by doing so they had not
+      given a chance to Thomas and Fanny of being alone together.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But, looking back upon the incidents of the evening, she came to the
+      conclusion that, on the whole, she had no reason to complain of the
+      progress that was being made in the young man's wooing. She was no
+      believer in undue haste in this respect; and had not Thomas looked into
+      Fanny's eyes at the close of the evening? Yes, at the close; and that
+      proved to her satisfaction that he had not suffered discouragement by the
+      maladroit conversation about Mr. Eugene Aram. The unhappy episode upon
+      which her husband had dwelt with far too great attention to its details,
+      was one to which she herself had never alluded; for at Lynn, where she had
+      lived all her life previous to being married to Dr. Burney, the Eugene
+      Aram episode was regarded as a scandal to be ignored by those of the
+      inhabitants whose children had attended the school where he had been
+      usher. It was a distinctly favourable sign of the impression made upon
+      young Mr. Barlowe by Fanny, that he had gazed into her eyes in spite of
+      his having been made aware of the connection of the family with the
+      tragedy of that wretched schoolmaster. Mrs. Burney took no account of the
+      effect of Bach's marvellous music upon a young man who was a lover in the
+      rough. In this respect, as has been indicated, she did not differ from the
+      young man himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XI
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T was at the
+      Pantheon in the Oxford Road a fortnight later, that Mrs. Thrale, the
+      brewer's lively wife, had an opportunity of shining, by a display of that
+      <i>esprit</i> which caused Mr. Garrick to affirm solemnly that if she had
+      gone upon the stage she would have been a dangerous rival to Mistress
+      Clive; and Fanny Burney, with her father and Mr. Linley, the father of the
+      beautiful Mrs. Sheridan, was a witness of the ease with which the lady
+      sparkled as she described for the benefit of the circle how Mr. Garrick's
+      jest at the expense of poor Mr. Kendal and the Widow Nash had set all the
+      Wells laughing. She imitated Mr. Garrick to his face, in offering his
+      congratulations to Mr. Kendal and so setting the ball a-rolling until
+      within an hour the poor, silly gentleman had been offered the
+      felicitations of half the Wells upon his engagement to Widow Nash. Mrs.
+      Thrale re-enacted with great gravity the part she had played in Mr.
+      Garrick's plot, and then she hastened to imitate Mrs. Cholmondeley's part,
+      and even Mr. Sheridan's, upon that lively morning at Tunbridge Wells.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But there was much more to tell, and Mrs. Thrale took very good care to
+      abate nothing of her narrative; it gave her so good a chance of acting,
+      and it gave Mr. Garrick so good a chance of complimenting her before all
+      the company.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I vow that we played our parts to perfection,&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;and
+      without any rehearsal either. But then what happened? You will scarce
+      believe it, Mr. Garrick has always borne such a character for scrupulous
+      honour in his dealings with his companies, but indeed 'tis a fact that our
+      manager decamped as soon as he found that the poor man had been teased to
+      the verge of madness by the fooling he had started&mdash;off he went, we
+      knew not whither; leaving no message for any of us. He was not to be found
+      by noon; and what happened by dinner-time? Why, the poor gentleman whom we
+      had been fooling had also fled!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That was indeed too bad of Mr. Kendal,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Twas too inconsiderate of him truly,&rdquo; cried Mrs. Thrale. &ldquo;'Tis no great
+      matter if the manager of the playhouse runs away when his play is produced&mdash;you
+      remember that Mr. Colman hurried off to Bath to escape lampooners when the
+      success of Dr. Goldsmith's comedy <i>She Stoops to Conquer</i> had proved
+      to all the town that he was no judge of a play; but for the one who has
+      been made the object of such a jest as ours to escape without giving us a
+      chance of bringing our teasing to a fitting climax is surely little short
+      of infamous.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And when did you design the fitting climax to arrive, madam?&rdquo; asked one
+      of the circle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, when the gentleman and lady should come face to face in the Assembly
+      Rooms, to be sure,&rdquo; replied Mrs. Thrale. &ldquo;We were all there to await the
+      scene of their meeting; and you can judge of our chagrin when only the
+      lady appeared.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We can do so, indeed,&rdquo; said Mrs. Darner, who was also in the circle. &ldquo;I
+      can well believe that you were furious. When one has arranged a burletta
+      for two characters 'tis infamous when only one of the actors appears on
+      the stage.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Thrale smiled the smile of the lady who knows that she is harbouring
+      a surprise for her friends and only awaits the right moment to spring it
+      upon them&mdash;a cat to be let out of the bag at the pulling of a string.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I knew that we should have your sympathy, Mrs. Darner,&rdquo; she said
+      demurely. &ldquo;You have, I doubt not, more than once experienced all the
+      chagrin that follows the miscarrying of a well-planned scheme. But as it
+      so happened, we were more than compensated for our ill-usage at that time
+      by the unlooked-for appearance of the missing actor two nights later.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, lud!&rdquo; cried Mrs. Darner, holding up both her hands in a very dainty
+      way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Garrick also lifted up his hands in amazement, but he did not need to
+      exclaim anything to emphasize the effect of his gesture.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Burney smiled, trying to catch the eye of Mr. Garrick, but Mr. Garrick
+      took very good care that he should not succeed in doing so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may well cry, 'oh, lud!'&rdquo; said Mrs. Thrale. &ldquo;But if you had been in
+      the Rooms when the man entered you would not have been able to say a word
+      for surprise, I promise you. The poor gentleman had posted all the way
+      from town to Tunbridge, apparently for our diversion only, and what a
+      sight he was! It seems that he had got over his fright at the coupling of
+      his name with the lady's, while flying to London, but from this point a
+      reaction set in, and he spent all the time that he was posting back to the
+      Wells adding fuel to the fire of his resolution to throw himself at the
+      feet of the lady at the earliest possible moment. Was there ever such a
+      comedy played, Mr. Garrick?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Twould be too extravagant for the theatre, madam, but not for Nature's
+      playhouse,&rdquo; replied Garrick. &ldquo;I have more than once been told the story of
+      soldiers having fled in a panic from the field of battle, but on finding
+      themselves in a place of safety they returned to the fight and fought like
+      demons. Was there aught that could be termed demoniacal in the gentleman's
+      conduct on finding himself face to face with the enemy&mdash;I mean the
+      lady?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aught demoniacal, do you ask me?&rdquo; cried Mrs. Thrale. &ldquo;Oh, sir, have you
+      not heard the parable of the demon that was cast out of a man, but finding
+      its homeless condition unsupportable, sought out seven of its friends and
+      returned with them to its former habitation, so that the last state of the
+      man was more demoniacal than the first?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I fancy I have heard the parable, madam, but its application&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+       began Garrick, when Mrs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Darner broke in upon him, crying:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do not ever attempt to point out the aptness of the application of a
+      parable, Mrs. Thrale. Do not, if you are wise. Would you lead us to
+      believe that the unhappy wretch found it necessary to post up to town to
+      obtain his relay of demons for his own discomfiture when so much rank and
+      fashion was at the Wells, though at the fag end of the season?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Leaving parables aside, demons and all, I can bear witness to the
+      condition of the man when he entered the Rooms and strode with
+      determination on his face up to where the Widow Nash was fanning herself&mdash;not
+      without need,&rdquo; said Mrs. Thrale. &ldquo;It so happened that she was seated under
+      the gallery at the furthest end of the Rooms, but our gentleman did not
+      pause on entering to look round for her&mdash;I tell you that it seemed as
+      if he went by instinct straight up to her, and bowing before her, said:
+      'Madam, may I beg the honour of a word or two with you in private?'&mdash;I
+      was close by and so were several other equally credible witnesses, and we
+      heard every word. The widow looked at him coolly&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, you said she had been fanning herself,&rdquo; remarked Mrs. Darner, but
+      without interrupting the flow of the narrative.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There was no need of a fan for her voice, I can assure you, when she had
+      completed her survey of the dusty gentleman and thought fit to reply to
+      him,&rdquo; continued Mrs. Thrale. &ldquo;'I vow, sir,' said she, 'that I consider
+      this room sufficiently private for anything you have to say to me.' She
+      had plainly got wind of Mr. Garrick's plot and so was fully prepared for
+      the worst&mdash;though some people might call it the best&mdash;that could
+      happen. 'Madam,' said Mr. Kendal, 'what I have to say is meant for your
+      ear alone,' and I am bound to admit that he spoke with suavity and
+      dignity. 'Pray let my friends here be the judges of that,' said the widow.
+      That was a pretty rebuff for any gentleman with a sense of his own
+      dignity, you will say; but he did not seem to accept it in such a spirit.
+      He hesitated, but only for a few moments, then he looked around him to see
+      who were within hearing, and with hardly a pause, he said in the clearest
+      of tones, 'I perceive that we are surrounded just now with some ladies
+      who, two days ago, offered me congratulations upon my good fortune in
+      winning your promise, madam; and I venture now to come before you to
+      implore of you to give me permission to assume that their congratulations
+      were well founded'&mdash;those were his words; we did not think that he
+      had it in him to express himself so well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what was the lady's reply?&rdquo; asked Dr. Burney, recalling the prophecy
+      in which he had indulged when parting from Garrick at his own door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The lady's reply was disappointing, though dignified,&rdquo; replied Mrs.
+      Thrale. &ldquo;'Sir,' she said, 'I have oft heard that the credulity of a man
+      has no limits, but I have never before had so conspicuous an instance of
+      the truth of this. Surely the merest schoolboy would have been able to
+      inform you that you were being made the victim of one of Mr. Garrick's
+      silly jests&mdash;that these ladies here lent themselves to the
+      transaction, hoping to make a fool of me as well as of you; but I trust
+      that they are now aware of the fact that I, at least, perceived the truth
+      from the first, so that whoever has been fooled I am not that person; and
+      so I have the honour to wish you and them a very good evening.' Then she
+      treated us to a very elaborate curtsey and stalked away to the door,
+      leaving us all amazed at her display of dignity&mdash;real dignity, not
+      the stage imitation, Mr. Garrick.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You should have been there, if only to receive a lesson, Mr. Garrick,&rdquo;
+       said Mrs. Damer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope those who had the good fortune to be present were taught a
+      lesson,&rdquo; said another lady in the circle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you mean me, madam,&rdquo; said Mrs. Thrale, with tactful good humour, &ldquo;I
+      frankly allow that I profited greatly by observing the scene. 'Tis a
+      dangerous game to play&mdash;that of trying to show others in a ridiculous
+      light, and in future I vow that all my attention shall be given to the
+      duty of avoiding making a fool of myself. Your jest miscarried, Mr.
+      Garrick; though how that gentleman who fled from the Wells in that
+      headlong fashion was induced to return, is beyond my knowledge.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Psha! madam, the fellow is a coxcomb and not worth discussing,&rdquo; cried
+      Garrick. &ldquo;He got no more than his deserts when the lady left him to be the
+      laughing-stock of the Assembly. I knew that that would be his fate if he
+      ever succeeded in summing up sufficient courage to face her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But strange to say, we did not laugh at him then,&rdquo; said Mrs. Thrale. &ldquo;He
+      seemed to be quite a different man from the one whom we had tried to fool
+      two days earlier. There was a certain dignity about him that disarmed us.
+      You must allow, Mr. Garrick, that only the bravest of men would have had
+      the courage to march up the Assembly Rooms and make his proposal to the
+      lady in public.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is the courage of the coxcomb who believes himself to be
+      irresistible to the other sex, madam,&rdquo; said Garrick; &ldquo;and I affirm that
+      'twas most reprehensible to refrain from laughing at him.&rdquo; Then, putting
+      his arm through that of Burney as if to stroll on with him, and so give
+      the others to understand that he had had enough of Mr. Kendal as a topic,
+      he whispered:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha, my friend, did not I prophesy aright what would be the fellow's fate?
+      I know men, and women, too&mdash;ay, in some measure, though they are
+      sealed books, eh, friend Burney? And you tried to persuade me that she
+      would not snub him? I knew better&mdash;I knew that she&mdash;eh, what&mdash;what
+      are they staring at?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are staring at the appearance of Mr. Kendal with the Widow Nash on
+      his arm&mdash;there they are, David, and you are staring at them too,&rdquo;
+       said Burney with a smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Angels and Ministers of Grace! 'Tis a man and his wife we are staring at!
+      The woman has married him after all!&rdquo; cried David, his hand dropping
+      limply from Burney's shoulder. &ldquo;A man and his wife: I know the look in
+      their faces!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XII
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T was, indeed, the
+      same man who had come to consult Dr. Burney, but had not been allowed the
+      chance of doing so by Garrick, a fortnight before&mdash;the same man, but
+      with a marked difference, who was now walking across the pillared room in
+      the Pantheon, with a smiling, well-favoured lady by his side; and toward
+      the pair the eyes of all the circle whom Mrs. Thrale had been addressing
+      were directed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Thrale and her friends were too much amazed to be able to speak, but
+      the lips of every one of them were holding back some exclamation of
+      surprise: an acute observer would have been able easily to set down the
+      various unuttered exclamations of the party, from the simple &ldquo;Oh, Lud!&rdquo; of
+      Mrs. Thrale to the more emphatic &ldquo;Merciful Powers!&rdquo; of Mrs. Cholmondeley,
+      though not a word was spoken between them, while Mr. Kendal and the lady
+      walked, straight through the room to where they were standing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Slip behind the pillar: I will cover you, my friend,&rdquo; whispered Dr.
+      Burney to Garrick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Garrick had no intention of doing anything so ignominious&mdash;more
+      especially as he perceived that Mr. Kendal had caught sight of him; and it
+      was really Garrick who advanced to meet the couple, with the air of a host
+      about to welcome two long-expected guests&mdash;it was really Garrick who
+      received them with one of his finest bows, and who&mdash;to add to the
+      amazement of the group behind him&mdash;was greeted by Mr. Kendal and the
+      lady with the friendliest of smiles (the lady was blushing, not Mr.
+      Garrick).
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then it was to Dr. Burney the gentleman turned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear sir,&rdquo; he cried, &ldquo;with what words should I approach you? It is to
+      your counsel and Mr. Garrick's that I owe my happiness.&rdquo; Then he made his
+      bow to the others of the group.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mrs. Thrale,&rdquo; he said, when he had recovered himself, &ldquo;we hoped to find
+      you here with your friends, so that we might lose no moment in offering
+      you our thanks for the tactful way in which you brought us together. Only
+      such genius as yours, madam, could have perceived&mdash;well, all that you
+      did perceive. I protest that neither Mrs. Kendal nor myself apprehended
+      the too flattering truth. But the heart of a woman who has herself loved&mdash;ah,
+      that is the source of such genius as you displayed with such subtlety. She
+      is mine, madam; we have been married a whole week, and I, at least, know
+      what a treasure&mdash;but I cannot trust myself to talk of my happiness
+      just now. Perhaps at some future time I shall be able to tell you
+      coherently how I felt within me that my Diana&mdash;Mrs. Nash, as she was
+      then&mdash;did not mean her rebuff as a final dismissal, and thus I was
+      led to her side&mdash;to implore an audience of her, in the course of
+      which she confessed to me that&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But his bride prevented the flow of his eloquence by tapping him under the
+      chin in exquisite playfulness with her fan, smiling roguishly at him
+      first, and then looking round the group with an air of chastened triumph
+      while she said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Foolish man! Prithee remember, Ferdinand, that you are in a public place,
+      and that the secrets of the confessional are sacred. I protest that you
+      are exceeding a husband's privilege in revealing aught that I confessed
+      when taken aback at your sudden appearance before me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I ask your pardon, my angel,&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;I had no right to say even the
+      little that I have said. I suppose I shall learn discretion in time and
+      with practice. But when I think of the kindly interest that some of our
+      friends here showed in bringing us together, I feel that they should be
+      rewarded by a repetition of the whole story.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, nay, sir, you may take my word for it that we look not for such a
+      reward,&rdquo; cried Garrick. &ldquo;Such philanthropists as Mrs. Thrale and myself
+      feel more than rewarded when we succeed in bringing together a lady and
+      gentleman who were so plainly intended by Providence for each other's
+      happiness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was Mr. Garrick who looked with the eyes of Providence into your case
+      as associated with Mr. Kendal, madam. That is, if Puck may ever be thought
+      of as assuming the rôle of Providence,&rdquo; said Mrs. Thrale. &ldquo;For myself, I
+      believe that Puck has more to do with the making of matches than heaven;
+      and assuredly in this particular case the mischievous fairy had more than
+      a finger. But however that may be, we can still wish you every happiness
+      in life, and offer you an apology for&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;H'sh!&rdquo; whispered Garrick, raising a hand. &ldquo;Rauzzini is beginning to sing.
+      I am sure, Mrs. Kendal, that you will willingly accept Signor Rauzzini's
+      song in lieu of Mrs. Thrale's apology, however admirably worded the latter
+      were sure to be.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The bride smiled benignly at Mrs. Thrale, and there was more than a trace
+      of triumph in her smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Burney smiled also at the adroitness of the actor, who, he could
+      perceive, had no intention of allowing himself to be incriminated by any
+      confession, assuming the form of an apology, that Mrs. Thrale might make
+      in a moment of contrition for having been a partner with him in a piece of
+      fooling that had had a very different result from the one he (and she) had
+      looked for.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Garrick, still holding up a warning finger as if he had at heart the best
+      interests of the composer as well as the singer of &ldquo;Waft her, Angels,&rdquo;
+       prevented another word from being spoken, though more than a full minute
+      had passed before Rauzzini had breathed the first notes of the recitativo.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But incautiously lowering his finger when the handsome Roman had begun,
+      Mrs. Thrale took advantage of her release from the thraldom imposed upon
+      her, to say in a low tone, looking toward the gallery in front of which
+      the singer stood:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is one angel talking to the others! Was there ever so angelic a man?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And little Miss Burney, who had also her eyes fixed upon the singer, felt
+      that little Mrs. Thrale was not merely an angel, but a goddess. She
+      expressed her opinion to this effect in her next letter to Mr. Crisp.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She listened in a dream to the singing that no one could hear and remain
+      unmoved, even though one had not the advantage of looking at the singer at
+      the same time. Fanny Burney was too shortsighted to be able to distinguish
+      one face from another at such a distance; but this made no difference to
+      her; she had the face of the sweet singer ever before her&mdash;most
+      clearly when she closed her eyes, as she did now, and listened to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Waft her, angels, to the skies&mdash;Waft her, angels, waft her, angels,
+      waft her to the skies,&rdquo; rang out his fervent imploration, and she felt
+      that there were no powers that could withstand the force of such an
+      appeal. For herself she felt carried away on the wings of song into the
+      highest heaven. She felt that harps of heaven alone could provide an
+      adequate accompaniment to such a voice as his; and she gave herself up to
+      it as unreservedly as a bride gives herself to the arms of her lover. She
+      had that sensation of a sweet yielding to the divine influence of the
+      music until she could feel it enfolding her and bearing her into the
+      infinite azure of a realm more beautiful than any that her dreams had
+      borne her to in the past. She wanted nothing better than this in any
+      world. All that she wanted was an assurance that it would continue for
+      ever and ever....
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With the cessation of the singing she seemed to awaken from a dream of
+      divine delight, and in her awaking to retain the last thought that had
+      been hers&mdash;the longing for an assurance that the delight which she
+      was feeling would endure. She was awake now, and she knew that love had
+      been all her dream, and that what she longed for was the assurance that
+      that love would continue. And now she remembered that it was this same
+      longing that had brought about her resolution that she would never go to
+      her King as the beggar maid had gone to King Cophetua. There would be no
+      assurance of the continuing of love between them if she had the
+      humiliating feeling that he had stooped to raise her to his level.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That was the thought which took possession of her mind when she had
+      returned from the sublimities to which she had been borne by her lover's
+      singing, and in another minute the reaction had come. She had been soaring
+      high, but now she was conscious of a sinking at heart; for the whole
+      building was resounding with acclamations of the singer. There did not
+      seem to be anyone silent, save only herself, throughout the hall. Everyone
+      seemed calling the name of Rauzzini&mdash;all seemed ready to throw
+      themselves at his feet; and when he stood up to acknowledge their tribute
+      of enthusiasm to his marvellous powers, there was something of frenzy in
+      the way his name was flung from hundreds of voices&mdash;it was not enough
+      for the people whom he had stirred to shout his name, they surrounded him
+      with the banners of a great conqueror&mdash;the air was quivering with the
+      lace and the silk that were being waved on all sides to do him honour&mdash;handkerchiefs,
+      scarves, fans&mdash;the air was full of them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And there he stood high above them, smiling calmly and bending his head
+      gravely to right and left in acknowledgment of all....
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That was his position before the world. Her heart sank within her as she
+      asked herself what was hers. How could she ever hope to attain to such a
+      place as should win from the world such applause as this? How could she
+      ever be so vain as to think that the giving of a little book to the world
+      should have an effect worthy of being compared with this demonstration
+      which was shaking the Pantheon?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her heart sank to a deeper depth still when the thunders had passed away&mdash;reluctantly
+      as the reverberations of a great storm&mdash;and there was a buzz of
+      voices all about her&mdash;exclamations of delight&mdash;whispers of
+      admiration&mdash;ladies with clasped hands, fervent in their words about
+      the marvellous face of the young Roman&mdash;and her father and his
+      friend, Mr. Fulke Greville, exchanging recollections of the singing of the
+      same air by other vocalists, and coming gradually to the conclusion that
+      none had put such feeling into it as had Rauzzini.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The buzz of voices did not cease when the singer had come down from his
+      gallery and was greeting some of his friends on the floor of the great
+      hall. He had trouble in making his way as far as the group which he meant
+      to reach. The most distinguished ladies of high quality had pressed round
+      him with uncritical expressions of appreciation of his singing, and there
+      was no lack of gentlemen of fashion to follow their example, though
+      wondering greatly that the ladies of quality should allow themselves to
+      show such transports respecting a man with no trait of a true-born
+      Englishman about him. Signor Rauzzini might have indulged in a score of
+      pinches of snuff out of the gold and enamelled boxes that were thrust
+      forward for his acceptance with the finest artificial grace of a period
+      when it was not thought effeminate to be graceful over small things.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He bowed low to the ladies of quality, and smiled his polite rejection of
+      the snuff of the gentlemen of fashion. But such convenances made it
+      impossible for him to keep his eyes upon the group toward which he was
+      making a necessarily slow way, and he only reached the side of Dr. Burney
+      to find that Dr. Burney's daughter had disappeared. He had no chance of
+      seeing how Miss Burney at his approach had slipped behind a pillar and
+      suffered herself to be conducted thence to a seat by her cousin Edward:
+      the fact that Edward was learning to be a painter was a sufficient excuse
+      for his paying an occasional visit to such scenes of colour as were
+      unfolded before the eyes of a frequenter of the fashionable Pantheon every
+      night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny felt that if Signor Rauzzini had come to her side after passing
+      through the ranks of lace and velvet and brocade, she would have sunk
+      through the floor of the hall. But she knew that it was to her side he was
+      coming, and she took the opportunity of flying when he was compelled to
+      make a pause in front of the flattery of the Duchess of Ancaster.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was painfully shy at all times, but overwhelmingly so at that moment,
+      though she knew that she was the only woman in the place who would make
+      the attempt to evade the distinction which threatened her. How could she
+      remain where she had been with all eyes in the room upon her? She felt
+      that it would be impossible.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her heart was beating quickly as she thought:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not yet&mdash;not yet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      After all there is no more womanly trait than that of fleeing from a
+      lover; but Fanny Burney was yielding to its impulse without an attempt to
+      analyse it, and without being consoled by the reflection of the woman of
+      the younger world, that if it is woman's instinct to fly from a lover, it
+      is a lover's instinct to pursue.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had scarcely finished the cup of ice which her cousin had brought her,
+      before the man had found her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But now the Gabrielli was beginning to sing, and all eyes were directed
+      upon the Gabrielli, so that no one but Rauzzini saw how Dr. Burney's
+      over-shy daughter was flushing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XIII
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HEY spoke in
+      French, with an occasional phrase in Italian when they found the other
+      tongue lacking in melody or in the exact shade of meaning that they sought
+      to express. Edward Burney thought that the moment was one that favoured
+      his ambition to study the pose of Madame Gabrielli, with a view to
+      starting on a portrait that should make him famous. He asked Fanny's
+      permission to allow him to take up a place a few yards beyond the pillar.
+      He promised not to be long absent, and Fanny had not the heart to detain
+      him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You fled from me&mdash;was that kind?&rdquo; asked Rauzzini when the cousin had
+      moved away, but was still in view.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;one who has my odious selfconsciousness does not ask what
+      is kind or unkind, she simply flies.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you knew that I was coming to your side?&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know that you are wise enough to value the criticism of a musician like
+      my father above the vapid phrases of the people of fashion,&rdquo; replied
+      Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is true indeed,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;I value a word of praise or blame from
+      Dr. Burney as precious. But Dr. Burney has a daughter whose words are to
+      me as precious.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is not here to-night,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;My sister Esther, to whom you
+      refer, is indeed a discriminating critic. She told me how exquisitely you
+      sang at the concert where you met her&mdash;it is scarcely a fortnight
+      ago.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dr. Burney has more daughters than that one,&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He has indeed more daughters than one,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;We were a household of
+      daughters before Esther married and when my brother was in the South Seas.
+      But only Esther is critical as a musician.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the name of heaven, do you think that it is only possible for me to
+      value words that refer to my singing?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;Do you not know that I
+      would rather listen to your voice than&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Than Madame Gabrielli's?&rdquo; said Fanny; he had spoken his last sentence in
+      too loud a tone, even though the Gabrielli's brilliant vocalism usually
+      admitted of a conversation being carried on with some vehemence in the
+      great room of the Pantheon without causing remark.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He smiled at her warning, and it was in a subdued voice that he said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am tired of hearing the Gabrielli; but what of your voice? How often
+      have you given me the chance of hearing it? Even now you fled from me as
+      though I carried the plague about with me! Was that kind or unkind?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You do not entertain the thought that perhaps I have not yet tired of
+      Madame Gabrielli's vocalism: I knew that she was at the point of beginning
+      her aria.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You would sacrifice me on the altar of your favourite? Well, perhaps you
+      would be justified in doing so. Hold up your finger now and I shall be
+      mute as a fish until Gabrielli has had her last shriek. I can still look
+      at you&mdash;it will not spoil your appreciation of the aria if I merely
+      look at you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think I would rather that you talked to me than merely looked at me. I
+      do not invite people to look at me, and happily few people do. I am not
+      conspicuous. I am the insignificant one. There is Mrs. Thrale, for
+      instance; she has been several times at our house, and every time she
+      comes she inquires who is the little one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He smiled and held up his finger in imitation of the way she had rebuked
+      him for talking too loud.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;H'sh; I am anxious to hear the Signora Gabrielli,&rdquo; he said, and the
+      express on that he made his face assume at that moment would have
+      convinced anyone that he was giving all his attention to the singing&mdash;drinking
+      in every note with the earnestness of an enthusiast. There was a certain
+      boyish exaggeration in his expression that was very amusing to Fanny,
+      though less observing persons would have been ready to accept it as
+      evidence of the generous appreciation on the part of one great singer of
+      the success of another.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So he remained until the <i>cavatina</i> had come to an end; and then he
+      was loudest in his cry of &ldquo;Brava!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a treat&mdash;a great&mdash;a sacred treat,&rdquo; said he, turning to
+      Fanny. &ldquo;I do not think I ever heard that song before. Has it a name, I
+      wonder?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I mistake not it is from an opera in which a certain Roman tenore made
+      a name for himself last year, in happy conjunction with Madame Gabrielli,&rdquo;
+       said Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it possible? I had not heard of that circumstance,&rdquo; said he, with a
+      look of the most charming innocence in his large eyes. It was his hands
+      that were most expressive, however, as he added:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it was last year, you say, mademoiselle? Ah, who is it that remembers
+      an opera from one year to another? No one, except the <i>impresario</i>
+      who has lost his good money, or somebody's else's money, over its
+      production. Enough, the <i>cantatrice</i> has given us of her best, and is
+      there now any reason why we should remain dumb? The great charm of the
+      singing of these brilliant artistes of last year's operas is that when
+      they have sung, they have sung&mdash;they leave one nothing to think about
+      afterward. Is not that so, mademoiselle?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They leave one nothing to think about&mdash;except their singing,&rdquo; said
+      Fanny. &ldquo;For myself, I am still thinking of 'Waft her, angels,' although
+      nearly half an hour must have passed since I heard the last notes. And it
+      seems to me that when half a century will have passed I shall still be
+      thinking of it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He did not offer her the conventional acknowledgement of a bow. He only
+      looked at her with those large eyes of his; they were capable of
+      expressing in a single glance all the tenderness of feeling of a poem.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have not sung in vain,&rdquo; he said in a low tone. &ldquo;My old <i>maestro</i>
+      gave me the advice one day when I was proving to him my success in
+      reaching the high note which I had been striving for years to bring into
+      my compass: 'That is all very well,' he said. 'You have aimed at touching
+      that rare note, now your aim must be to touch the heart of everyone who
+      hears you sing.' I sometimes think that he set for me too difficult a
+      task.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not too difficult&mdash;for you,&rdquo; said she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There are dangers,&rdquo; he said thoughtfully. &ldquo;I have known singers who tried
+      to reach the hearts of their hearers by tricks&mdash;yes, and they
+      succeeded through these illegitimate means in making themselves popular,
+      while far better singers who had a scorn of such tricks and gave their
+      best to all who listened to them, failed to please anyone who had not a
+      knowledge of the true boundary of music.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have seen these tricksters, too,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;I have witnessed their
+      sentimental grimaces&mdash;their head shakings&mdash;their appeal to the
+      feelings with pathetic eyes turned heavenward. They made me ashamed of
+      them&mdash;ashamed of myself for listening to them, though people about me
+      had been moved to tears. But I think that the people who are easily moved
+      to tears are those who retain an impression the shortest space of time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You give me confidence&mdash;encouragement,&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;I have made up my
+      mind that if I cannot reach a heart by the straight King's highway, I will
+      not try to do so by any bypath. Bypaths are, we know, the resorts of
+      brigands: they may captivate a heart or two, but only to leave them empty
+      afterwards.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So they talked together for many minutes. Faney Burney had a sufficient
+      acquaintance among musicians, vocal as well as instrumental, to have
+      learned, long ago, that they can easily be prevented from talking on any
+      other subject than music, and the same reflection that had caused her to
+      say that &ldquo;Not yet&mdash;not yet,&rdquo; had impelled her to lead Rauzzini in
+      another direction than that in which he had shown so strong a tendency to
+      go. He had been trying to make her understand that he had travelled
+      through the obstructions of the hall not in order that he might obtain the
+      criticism of so accomplished a <i>maestro</i> as Dr. Burney upon his
+      singing, but in order that he should have a chance of talking to Dr.
+      Burney's unaccomplished daughter; he had shown her that his wish was to
+      converse on the topic of this unaccomplished daughter; but she had no mind
+      to acquiesce in his aims for the present. She still felt herself to be the
+      beggar maid, and she would not allow her king to get any nearer to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was not until her cousin had returned to where she was seated, that the
+      young Italian found that he had not made much progress with his suit. He
+      had intended that this <i>tête-à-tête</i> with her should make her aware
+      of how he felt in regard to her, but he had allowed his opportunity to
+      pass, and in place of talking about her he had been led to talk of
+      himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That was how he expressed himself to her when he found that their <i>tête-à-tête</i>
+      was at an end.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How has this come about?&rdquo; he cried in surprise. &ldquo;How is it that I have
+      shown myself to be so vain as to make speeches about my singing when I
+      meant to talk to you of yourself?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Twas I who found a more profitable topic for you, <i>signore mio</i>,&rdquo;
+       she replied, feeling her way through the words of his native tongue, for
+      he had spoken out his surprise in Italian.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He shook his head and made a gesture with his hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it is a mystery!&rdquo; he said in French. &ldquo;I had no desire to talk about
+      myself or my singing. I meant to tell you what was in my mind when I saw
+      you entering this place with your father. Shall we retrace our steps in
+      our conversation until I find how it was that I took a wrong turning?
+      Alas! I fear that it would not be possible!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It would not be possible, indeed,&rdquo; she replied. &ldquo;Did you not say
+      something about the bypaths being dangerous with banditti? We kept our
+      feet upon the King's highway, which is safe. I was swept off my feet&mdash;carried
+      away&mdash;away&mdash;by your singing of the aria; I had scarce touched
+      the earth once more when you came to my side, and now we are parting
+      happily, you to realize your aspirations, I to&mdash;to&mdash;well, to
+      retain for ever the memory of your singing&mdash;the memory of those
+      celestial harmonies into the midst of which I was wafted by the angels of
+      your imploration. That is enough for one evening of my life. Nay, you must
+      not speak another word lest the charm of all should fade away. I shall go
+      home to dream of angels.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I shall go to dream of you,&rdquo; he said in a low tone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He did not hold her hand so long as Thomas Barlowe had done when parting
+      from her, but she felt that somehow he had accomplished more by his
+      reserve than Thomas had achieved by his impetuosity. She hoped that she
+      might never see Thomas again; but for Signor Rauzzini&mdash;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They parted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XIV
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HESE foreigners!&rdquo;
+       exclaimed young Edward Burney when Rauzzini had left them, and Fanny was
+      asking her cousin if her father was not looking for her. &ldquo;These
+      foreigners! Your father is talking with another of them&mdash;an Italian
+      too, as I live&mdash;I have seen him in St. Martin's Street&mdash;Signor
+      Piozzi. But I suppose Uncle Burney likes to keep in touch with them. The
+      town is swarming with them: they are even to be found about Leicester
+      Fields. Why do some people fancy that we must have Italians to sing for
+      us? There are plenty of good singers in England, without a drop of foreign
+      blood in their veins. A good sea song with a chorus that is easy to get
+      into the swing of&mdash;that's English and honest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Honest down to the hoarsest note,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;You and James are at one
+      in the matter of songs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cousin Jim hates foreigners, as is quite proper that an officer in a
+      King's ship should,&rdquo; said Edward stoutly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not all foreigners,&rdquo; said Fanny smiling. &ldquo;You forget how kindly he took
+      to Prince Omai.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, a South Sea Islander is different,&rdquo; cried her cousin. &ldquo;I expect that
+      the South Seas will soon become as English as ourselves if Captain Cook
+      goes on discovering islands.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Edward,&rdquo; said Fanny, after a pause sufficient to allow of the
+      introduction of a new topic; &ldquo;Edward, could you make it convenient to call
+      at the Orange Coffee House some day soon to inquire if there is another
+      letter for Mr. Grafton?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll not omit it on any account,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;Oh, yes, Mr. Grafton, I'll
+      collect your correspondence for you, never fear. You have not let anyone
+      else into the secret, I hope?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No one knows it except Susy and Lottie and Charles and Hetty; but Hetty
+      only knows that I wrote the book, not that it is to be printed&mdash;Charles
+      is still away from us, or I would not trouble you, Edward.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor Charlie grew tired of the Orange Coffee House, did he not? He told
+      me how you made him your messenger at first, disguising him in a cloak and
+      a gentleman's hat, so that he might not seem quite the boy that he was.
+      But how the secret has been kept so well is a wonder to me&mdash;kept from
+      the powers that be, I mean&mdash;uncle and aunt. I wonder if your mother
+      never had a suspicion of what was going on, especially as she knew all
+      about your writing long ago.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think that it was the copying out of the padre's History that saved
+      me,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;Many a page of my novel I wrote when she believed that I
+      was copying the notes for the History&mdash;yes, that, and the letters
+      which Mr. Crisp insists on my sending him every week. But even with these
+      excuses I could sometimes not get through more than three or four pages of
+      my own book during a whole week.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How will you look when the secret is let out&mdash;it must be let out
+      some day, you know? If the writing a novel is thought shocking, how will
+      Uncle Burney receive the news, think you? He has not yet given you leave
+      to publish it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a troubled look on poor Fanny's face as she replied, after a
+      pause:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have often meant to ask father's permission, but I was not able to
+      summon up courage enough to face him with the whole truth. But it cannot
+      be delayed much longer. Perhaps I might write him a letter about it some
+      time when I am at Chessington.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't envy you the duty, my dear Fanny,&rdquo; said lie. &ldquo;But I think that
+      the sooner you get it over the easier you will feel. I suppose that
+      writing a novel is worse than writing a 'History of Music.' I wonder why
+      you took so much trouble over the business.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I could not help it,&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;I have often wondered myself why I was
+      sitting up in that cold room at the top of the house, writing until my
+      fingers were benumbed, when I might have been at my comfortable sewing in
+      front of a fire downstairs; but I could not help it&mdash;I could not help
+      doing it, Eddy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Eddy never reached that point in his career as a painter when he found the
+      artist's impulse to create too great to be resisted. He could not
+      appreciate her explanation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'I couldn't help it,' that's what we were used to say long ago, when we
+      got into mischief; I hope that Uncle Burney and Aunt Burney&mdash;don't
+      forget her in this matter&mdash;I hope that they will accept your excuse.
+      Anyhow, you may trust me to act as your 'Mr. Grafton' at the Orange Coffee
+      House some day this week.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He caught a glimpse of his uncle, Dr. Burney, sitting with Mr. Greville,
+      so that he had no trouble in placing Fanny once more in charge of her
+      father. He could see that the girl was a little downcast, and tried to
+      cheer her up a bit by whispering in a sly way into her ear:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-night, Mr. Grafton; my best respects to Mrs. Grafton and the
+      children&mdash;especially Evelina.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The smile that Fanny gave in acknowledgment of his pleasantry did not
+      quite carry conviction that his well-meant effort had been successful. He
+      went away feeling as much sympathy for her as was possible for him to have
+      in common with the reflection that if she was in a difficult position, it
+      was wholly one of her own seeking. What could have induced a girl who had
+      been carefully brought up, and provided with an excellent stepmother, to
+      write a novel, placing herself thereby on a level with those dreadful
+      ladies whose productions were prohibited in every self-respecting
+      household and only read by stealth when obtained at a cost of twopence&mdash;more
+      than the best of them were worth&mdash;at the circulating library?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yes, poor Fanny was undoubtedly to be pitied; but she had really only
+      herself to blame for the trouble that was looming in front of her when the
+      secret of her authorship should be revealed to her father and her
+      excellent stepmother&mdash;one of the best judges to be found anywhere of
+      all sorts of needlework&mdash;not merely plain sewing and buttonholing,
+      but satin stitch, herring-boning and running and felling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The very next day Cousin Edward called at St. Martin's Street, carrying
+      with him a small parcel neatly done up in white paper. He was lucky enough
+      to find Fanny and Susan alone in the work-room; and after asking
+      mysteriously if there was any chance of his uncle or aunt coming upon
+      them, and being assured that they were both away for the day, he carefully
+      locked the door of the room, saying in the whisper of a man of plots and
+      mysteries:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Tis better to be sure than sorry. In matters of this nature 'tis
+      impossible to be too cautious.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He then handed the parcel to Fanny, who gave an exclamation when she saw
+      that it was addressed:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>To Mr. Grafton, at the Orange Coffee House, Orange Street</i>.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She opened the parcel, and found it to contain a printer's unbound copy of
+      a book, the title page of which stared up at her: &ldquo;<i>Evelina; or, A Young
+      Lady's Entrance into the World</i>,&rdquo; and with it was a letter from Mr.
+      Lowndes, the bookseller, presenting his compliments to Mr. Grafton, with
+      the request that Mr. Grafton would read the book and prove it as soon as
+      possible, returning the list of errata to Mr. Lowndes, so that the edition
+      might go to press for early publication.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There it lay on the table in front of her. She read the letter standing,
+      and remained on her feet, looking down at the unbound book. It had a
+      queer, half-dressed appearance, lacking covers; and when, after some
+      minutes of silence, Susy took a step or two closer to it, and, with her
+      hand on Fanny's arm, looked down on it also, the picture that they made
+      suggested two sisters looking into the cradle where the first baby of one
+      of them lay. The expression on Susy's face&mdash;a mingling of wonder and
+      curiosity, with delight not far off&mdash;was exactly that which the
+      younger sister of the picture might be expected to wear, catching a
+      glimpse of the undressed morsel of humanity in its first cot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Susy put her hand down to it, and moved the printed sheets about. She read
+      the title page down to the last name on the imprint, and then she flung up
+      her hands, crying:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How lovely! how lovely! But it seems wonderful! How did it come into
+      being? It looks like a real thing now that we see it printed. The copy
+      that you wrote out in that disguised hand seemed somehow quite different
+      from this. There is life in this. It feels warm, actually warm, Fanny. Oh,
+      don't you love it, dear?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny, the young mother, shook her head, but with no significance, so far
+      as Susy could see.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Tis too late now,&rdquo; said Edward gloomily, taking on himself the burden of
+      interpreting that head-shake. &ldquo;You are bound down to go on with it now.
+      You should have thought of all this before.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What nonsense is this you are talking?&rdquo; cried Susy, turning upon him
+      almost indignantly; for his tone suggested an aspersion upon the
+      offspring. &ldquo;What do you say is too late now? Do you mean to say that
+      there's anything to be ashamed of in this? Cannot you see that she did not
+      put her name to it? Who is there to know that it came from this house? The
+      name of Burney nowhere appears on it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's so much, at any rate,&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you mean to say that you don't think it quite wonderful, Eddy?&rdquo; cried
+      Susy. &ldquo;And getting twenty pounds for it&mdash;twenty pounds! And you say
+      something about it being too late!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I only judged from the way Fanny shook her head,&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, that was not what Fanny was thinking at all&mdash;now was it, Fanny?&rdquo;
+       said Susy encouragingly to her sister.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know quite what I meant or what I mean even now,&rdquo; replied Fanny.
+      &ldquo;It made me feel for the moment somehow as if I had appeared in a street
+      full of people before I had quite finished dressing!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; exclaimed Edward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But that is nonsense, dear,&rdquo; said Susy, still consolatory. &ldquo;The book is
+      not yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not all myself, but part of myself&mdash;that is what I feel,&rdquo; said
+      Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I cannot see that that is so. You are you&mdash;you yourself quite apart
+      from the book. Whatever the book may be, you will still remain Fanny
+      Burney, the best daughter and the best sister in the world. What does it
+      matter if people&mdash;foolish people who know nothing about it&mdash;laugh
+      at it or say nasty things about it? Do you think that that will make any
+      of us like you the less?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She put her arm about Fanny and kissed her on the cheek, and Fanny's tears
+      began to fall. The young man standing by felt more uneasy than he had ever
+      felt in his life. He crossed the room and looked out of the window,
+      turning his back upon the scene of the sisters. He did not know what to
+      say to a girl when once she allowed herself to weep. He wished with all
+      his heart that he had not been dragged into this business. But Fanny's
+      tears convinced him that his first impression of her reception of her book
+      was the correct one: she was, like other young mothers he had heard of,
+      bitterly repentant when it was too late.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next sound of which he became aware was of the crinkling of the stiff
+      paper of the wrapper. One of the girls was folding up the parcel. He
+      glanced round and saw that it was Fanny herself who was so engaged. She
+      had dried her tears; the expression on her face was one of resignation&mdash;one
+      of determination to make the best of a bad matter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, that's better,&rdquo; said he, going to her and picking up the string from
+      the floor. &ldquo;There's no use crying over spilt milk, is there, Fanny? We
+      have all kept your secret loyally, and no one need ever know that you so
+      far forgot yourself. Certainly the revelation will never come from my
+      lips.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny burst out laughing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, dear Eddy, you are the best cousin that any poor girl could have,&rdquo;
+       she said. &ldquo;Your words have helped me greatly. They have helped to make me
+      feel what is the aspect of the world in regard to my poor little story. It
+      has been my constant companion night and day for three years and more. I
+      worked at it in the cold and I tried how I could improve pages of it,
+      copying it and recopying it; I practised a duplicity which was foreign to
+      my nature in writing it&mdash;I have deceived my father and my mother
+      about it&mdash;I wasted my eyesight over it&mdash;I robbed myself of sleep
+      so that I might complete it, and when it was completed I lay awake in
+      anxiety lest no bookseller would look at it, all this trouble I had with
+      it, so that the world might have of my best, and what is the verdict of
+      the world after all this? You have pronounced it, dear Eddy&mdash;you said
+      thoughtfully and consolingly&mdash;'There's no use crying over spilt
+      milk.' You are quite right. Not another tear will I shed over this poor
+      little bantling of mine. 'A Young Lady's Entrance into the World'? Nay,
+      call it rather a rickety brat that should never have made its entrance
+      into the world at all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should be ashamed of myself if I ever spoke of it in such terms,&rdquo; cried
+      Susy, looking indignantly at her cousin as though he had abused it in that
+      phrase. &ldquo;'Rickety brat,' indeed! Oh, I should be ashamed. It looked so
+      much alive&mdash;more alive, I think, than if it was in its covers. Let us
+      sit down and read it together, Fanny.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Cousin Edward felt that he was being badly treated between these sisters.
+      That last remark of Susy was rather more than a suggestion that he might
+      go as soon as it pleased him. He had not any previous experience of young
+      women and their offspring. He could not know that their attitude in such
+      circumstances is one of hostility to the male&mdash;that they resent his
+      appearance as an intrusion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am glad that you are so pleased,&rdquo; said he, with only a trace of
+      irritability in his voice. &ldquo;And I am glad that I have been of any use to
+      you, Cousin Fanny. After all, the thing is yours, not Susy's.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is true, indeed,&rdquo; cried Fanny. &ldquo;And it is I who offer you my
+      gratitude for your help. Believe me, Eddy, I am sensible of the adroitness
+      you have shown in this matter ever since we let you into our secret; and
+      if any trouble comes from what we have done you may be quite sure that I
+      will accept the entire responsibility for it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, so far as that goes, I do not shrink from taking my share,&rdquo; said he
+      magnanimously. &ldquo;I do not feel quite without blame&mdash;I am a man and I
+      should have warned you at the outset. But you had nearly finished it
+      before I heard anything of it&mdash;you must not forget that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is true indeed,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;I was self-willed. I wonder was it
+      vanity that impelled me. Never mind! It cannot be helped now. It may never
+      be heard of again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's always that to remember,&rdquo; said he, with the eagerness of a
+      drowning man grasping at a straw.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I believe that the chances are greatly in favour of that hope being
+      realized. Thank you again for your encouragement, dear Eddy,&rdquo; said she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, that's nothing&mdash;nothing worth talking about,&rdquo; said he, picking
+      up his gloves. &ldquo;You can command me always, Cousin Fanny. And you have seen
+      that I can keep a secret. Now mind you don't leave that lying about&rdquo;&mdash;he
+      pointed to the parcel, the string of which Susy was knotting&mdash;&ldquo;and,
+      be advised by me, turn the key in the lock when you are working at it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Susy, &ldquo;we'll be sure to do our best to prevent anyone from
+      suspecting that we have a secret, by locking ourselves in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Caution&mdash;nothing like caution,&rdquo; said he in a whisper, unfastening
+      the door and putting his head out to glance to right and left of the short
+      corridor. He held up his finger. &ldquo;All safe so far,&rdquo; he whispered; &ldquo;no one
+      is in sight.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XV
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE moment he
+      disappeared, Susy slipped the knot which she had just made on the parcel
+      and flung the paper away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now we can settle down to it properly, Fanny,&rdquo; she cried, catching up the
+      bundle of unstitched sheets and throwing herself back upon the little
+      sofa. &ldquo;Come beside me, dear, and we shall go through every word together.
+      Never mind what Eddy said; I think it looks quite lovely, and how easily
+      it reads&mdash;just like poetry&mdash;'Evelina'!&mdash;how did you think
+      of that sweet name?&mdash;'<i>or, A Young Lady's Entrance into the World</i>.'
+      Not a mistake so far. The printers must surely be careful men! And now
+      that you come to think of it, this is really the entrance of the Young
+      Lady into the world. Here she is, smiling, but a little shy&mdash;just
+      like her mamma&mdash;your Evelina takes after you, dear&mdash;now, confess
+      that there is something agreeably shy in the italics printing of that line
+      beginning with '<i>A Young Lady's Entrance</i>,' Fanny; it may be wrong to
+      write a novel, but don't you think that this is worth it? Edward is a
+      goose to talk as he did about crying over spilt milk. I wonder that you
+      had patience to listen to him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eddy is a dear boy, and he only said what he knew nearly everybody else
+      would be disposed to say about this business. I started the story, as you
+      know, half in fun&mdash;by way of exercising my hand&mdash;but then it got
+      hold of me, and it became deadly earnest, and now&mdash;oh, Susy, what I
+      feel now about it is just what I said to Edward: it seems as if it were
+      the best part of myself that I am giving to the world. I wonder if it is
+      right for anyone who has written a book, if it be only a novel, to look
+      upon it in that light.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why should it not be right? Didn't you put all your thoughts into it, and
+      are not one's thoughts part of oneself?&rdquo; said Susy. &ldquo;And although so many
+      people look down upon novels&mdash;all the novels that have been written
+      since Mr. Richardson died&mdash;still&mdash;oh, did not Dr. Johnson once
+      write a novel? Yes, 'Rasselas' was what he called it. I tried to read it
+      but&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;H'sh, Susy. Dr. Johnson might write anything that he pleased. Though Dr.
+      Johnson wrote a novel, that should be no excuse for such as I having the
+      audacity to do the like.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose that's what some people will say. But I can't see that if a
+      good man does an evil thing, it becomes a good thing simply because he
+      does it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stop, Susy: I remember that he confessed to someone, who told it to Mr.
+      Crisp, that he had written 'Rasselas' in order to get money enough to pay
+      for his mother's funeral.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, in that case&mdash;might he not have written something a good deal
+      better, Fanny? Oh, I see that you are stricken with horror at my thinking
+      anything that came from Dr. Johnson to be dull. I daresay I began reading
+      it too soon: I should have waited until I had learned that if a great man
+      writes a book it is a great book, but that if a simple girl writes a novel&mdash;well,
+      there's no use crying over spilt milk. Now that's the last word that I
+      have to say, for I mean to read every word that's printed here&mdash;here&mdash;here!&rdquo;
+       She brought down her open hand on the topmost sheets of &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; in three
+      crescendo slaps, and then tucked her feet under her and buried herself in
+      the book.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny sat laughing beside her; and when Susy paid no attention to her
+      laughter, she continued sitting there in silence, while Susy read page
+      after page.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Several minutes had passed before the authoress asked:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How does the thing read, dear?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Susy gave a start at the sound of her voice and looked around her as if
+      she had just been awakened. This should have been enough for Fanny. She
+      should not have repeated her question: it was already answered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How does the thing read, Susy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How does it read?&rdquo; cried Susy. &ldquo;Oh, Fanny, it reads exactly like a book&mdash;exactly.
+      There is no difference between this and a real book. Oh, 'tis a thousand
+      times nicer to read in print than it was as you wrote it. It is so good,
+      too!&mdash;the best story I ever read! I can't understand how you ever
+      came to write it. You who have seen nothing of life&mdash;how did such a
+      story ever come to you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish I knew,&rdquo; replied Fanny. &ldquo;And do you think that anyone else will
+      read it now that it is printed?&rdquo; she asked (she was rapidly acquiring the
+      most prominent traits of the complete novel writer).
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Anyone else? Nay, everyone&mdash;everyone will read it, and everyone will
+      love it. How could anyone help&mdash;even daddy and mamma? Now please
+      don't interrupt me again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Down went Susy's face once more among the printed sheets, and Fanny
+      watched her with delight. She had been quite ready a short time before to
+      accept the verdict of Cousin Edward as equivalent to that of the public
+      upon her book; and now she was prepared to accept Susy as the
+      representative of all readers of taste and discrimination.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Edward&mdash;psha! What could he know about it?&rdquo; she was ready to
+      exclaim: every moment was bringing her nearer to the complete novelist.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Surely,&rdquo; she thought, &ldquo;there can be no dearer pleasure in life than to
+      watch the effect of one's own book upon an appreciative reader!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      (The appreciative reader is always the one who is favourably impressed;
+      the other sort knows nothing about what constitutes an interesting book.)
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the first draught of which she had ever partaken of this particular
+      cup of happiness, and it was a bombard. She was draining it to the very
+      dregs: it was making her intoxicated, even though it was only offered to
+      her by her younger sister, who had never read half a dozen novels in all
+      her life, and these surreptitiously. She could know by the varying changes
+      in expression on Susy's face what place she had come to in the book: the
+      turning over of the pages was no guide to her, for she had no idea of the
+      quantity of her writing the printers had put into a page, but she had no
+      trouble in finding Susy's place, so exquisitely reflective was the girl's
+      face of the incidents among which she was wandering. Surely little Susy
+      had always been her favourite sister (she was smiling at one of the
+      drolleries of characterization upon which she had come); oh, there could
+      be no doubt that she had never loved any of her sisters as she loved Susy
+      (Susy's eyes were now becoming watery, and Fanny knew that she had-reached
+      the first of Evelina's troubles).
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the happiest hour of Fanny's life, and she gave herself up to it.
+      She did not feel any irresistible desire to judge for herself if the
+      opinion expressed by Susy respecting the story was correct or otherwise.
+      She had no impulse to see how her ideas &ldquo;looked in print.&rdquo; She was content
+      to observe the impression they were making upon her first lay reader. She
+      had a vague suspicion that her own pleasure in reading the book would be
+      infinitely less than the pleasure she derived from following the course of
+      the story in her sister's face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Half an hour had actually passed before Susy seemed to awaken to the
+      realities of life. She jumped up from the sofa with an exclamation of
+      surprise, and then glanced down at Fanny with an inquiring look on her
+      face&mdash;a puzzled look that gave the seal to Fanny's happiness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are wondering how I come to be here, Susy,&rdquo; said she smiling. &ldquo;You
+      are wondering how I come to be mixed up with the Branghtons and the
+      Mervains and the rest of them. You would make me out to be an enchantress
+      carrying you into the midst of a strange society; and I don't want any
+      more delightful compliments, dear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Fanny, 'tis so wonderful&mdash;so&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't want to hear anything about it beyond what you have already told
+      me, my dear Susy. I watched your face and it told me all. Give me a kiss,
+      Susy. You have given me a sensation of pleasure such as I never knew
+      before, and such as, I fear, I shall never know again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In an instant the two girls were in each other's arms, mingling their
+      tears and then their laughter, but exchanging no word until they had
+      exhausted every other means of expressing what they felt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was Susy who spoke first.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take it away, Fanny,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Take the book away, for I know that if I
+      read any more of it I shall betray your secret to all the house. They will
+      read it on my face every time I look at you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think that the hour has come for me to relieve you of the precious
+      book,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;There is the letter from Mr. Lowndes asking me to make
+      out the list of errata as quickly as possible, and I do believe that I
+      shall have to read the book before I can oblige him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Twas thoughtless for me to jump into the middle as I did, when you had
+      to read it,&rdquo; cried Susy. &ldquo;But there is really no mistake on any page, so
+      far as I could see.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Unless the whole is a mistake,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;But I will not suggest that
+      now, having seen your face while you were devouring it. Dear Susy, if I
+      find many such readers I shall be happy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She gathered together the loose sheets and carried them off to the little
+      room at the top of the house where it was understood she wrote her long
+      weekly letter to Mr. Crisp, who had made himself a hermit at Chessington,
+      but who, like some other hermits, looked forward with impatience to the
+      delightful glimpses of the world which he had forsaken, afforded to him on
+      every page written by her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Susy did not see her again until dinner-time, and by that time the younger
+      girl felt that she had herself under such complete control that she could
+      preserve inviolate the secret of the authorship until it should cease to
+      be a secret. The result of her rigid control of herself was that her
+      brother James said to her when they were having tea in the drawing-room:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What was the matter with you at dinner, Sue? You looked as if you were
+      aware that something had happened and you were fearful lest it might be
+      found out. Have you broken a china ornament, or has the cat been turning
+      over the leaves of the 'History of Music' with her claws, and left her
+      signature on the morocco of the cover?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What nonsense!&rdquo; cried Susan. &ldquo;Nothing has happened. What was there to
+      happen, prithee tell me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, that is beyond my power,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;I suppose you girls will have
+      your secrets&mdash;ay, ay; until some day you reveal them to another girl
+      with the strictest of cautions never to let the matter go beyond her&mdash;and
+      so forth&mdash;and so forth. Never mind, I'll not be the one to tempt you
+      to blab. I never yet had a secret told to me that was worth wasting words
+      over.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I had a secret of importance I think that you would be a safe person
+      to tell it to,&rdquo; said Susy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are right there,&rdquo; he assented with a nautical wink. &ldquo;You could find
+      in me the safest depository you could wish for; you might safely depend
+      upon my forgetting all about it within the hour.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He did not trouble her any further, but she felt somewhat humiliated to
+      think that she had had so little control of herself as to cause her
+      brother's suspicions to be aroused. She thought that it would only be a
+      matter of minutes when her father or her stepmother would approach her
+      with further questions. Happily, however, it seemed that James was the
+      keenest observer in the household, for no one put a question to her
+      respecting her tell-tale face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Still she was glad when she found herself safely and snugly in bed and so
+      in a position to whisper across the room to her sister Charlotte the news
+      that Fanny's novel had been printed and that a copy was safely locked up
+      in Fanny's desk, and that it looked lovely in its new form.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Charlotte was greatly excited, but thought that Fanny might have told her
+      the news before dinner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor Fanny! she will have to tell the Padre to-morrow and ask his leave
+      to&mdash;to do what she has already done without it. Poor Fanny!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XVI
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> FEW days later
+      Dr. Burney was at the point of setting out for Chessington to share Mr.
+      Crisp's hermitage until the end of the week. He had already said good-bye
+      to the household; but Fanny accompanied him to the door. It was her last
+      chance, she knew. She had long ago made up her mind that one of her
+      secrets must be told to him, and she had more than once, since the printed
+      sheets had been brought to her, tried to screw up her courage to the point
+      of telling him, but she had not yet succeeded. And now he was going to
+      Chessington for four days, and in the meantime the book should be returned
+      to the printer. It was the last chance she would have of discharging the
+      duty which was incumbent on her. She had been hovering around him in the
+      hall, shaking out his gloves for him, polishing the gold knob of his cane,
+      picking a scrap of dust from the collar of his travelling-cloak. In
+      another minute he would be gone&mdash;her opportunity would be gone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then came the relieving thought of further procrastination:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall write to him at Chessington and confess all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It seemed as though she had uttered her thought aloud, for he turned to
+      her with his hand on the latch of the hall door, saying:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will write to Chessington to-morrow or the day after, my dear. It is
+      no trouble to you to write. You enjoy it, do you not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, it is my chief enjoyment. That is why I have been practising it so
+      much, just as the others have been practising their music. I have no music
+      in my soul, so I&mdash;I have been writing. Of course, it is not to be
+      expected that I could do more than write some nonsense&mdash;my equivalent
+      to the strumming of the scales.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It pleases me greatly to hear that,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;But you do yourself an
+      injustice; Mr. Crisp never ceases to praise your letters.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is praising his own pupil then,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;for 'twas he who first
+      taught me how to write, and now I have been putting together some
+      imaginary letters, and I thought that if he could see them printed in
+      front of him he would be amused.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Imaginary letters? Why not continue your real ones, my dear? It would
+      cost a great deal to have your imaginary ones printed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear father,&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;you surely do not think that I would ask you
+      for money to pay for my whim? But if I could prevail on someone&mdash;a
+      bookseller&mdash;to print what I write, I hope you will consent to my
+      doing so&mdash;not putting my name to the thing, of course?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And does my Fanny believe that 'tis all so easy to persuade a bookseller
+      to pay her printer's bill?&rdquo; he said, pinching her ear. &ldquo;Booksellers are
+      shrewd men of business.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But even men of business have their weak moments,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;And so if&mdash;if&mdash;you
+      would not think it too bold of me to let James take my parcel to a
+      bookseller? You would not forbid me to try to realize my ambition?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may be sure that the one to frustrate your aims will not be your
+      father,&rdquo; said he, smiling shrewdly. &ldquo;I will consent if&mdash;ah, there is
+      the fatal if&mdash;if your bookseller consents. Now goodbye, my dear
+      child. I will take your love to your Daddy Crisp, and tell him to await a
+      real letter from you&mdash;not an imaginary one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She stood on tiptoe to kiss him&mdash;but even then he had to stoop before
+      his lips were on her forehead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was gone in another moment. She stood at the inner side of the closed
+      door and listened to the rattling of the wheels of the chaise over the
+      cobble-stones.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So the ordeal that she dreaded had been faced, and how simple a thing it
+      had turned out after all! Her father had treated the idea which she had
+      submitted to him as if it were nothing beyond the thought of a simpleton&mdash;a
+      foolish, simple girl who knew nothing of the world of business and
+      booksellers, and who fancied that a bookseller would print everything that
+      was sent to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had delivered that contingent &ldquo;if&rdquo; with the shake of the head and the
+      shrewd smile of one who is acquainted with the seamy side of business, in
+      the presence of a child who fancies that printing follows automatically
+      upon the writing of a book and that there are thousands of buyers eagerly
+      awaiting the chance of securing everything that passes through a
+      printing-press. She had perceived just what was in his mind; and his
+      consent, followed by that contingent &ldquo;if,&rdquo; to her publishing what she had
+      written, was given to her with the same freedom that would have
+      accompanied his permission to appropriate all the gold used in paving the
+      streets of the City. She could see from the way he smiled that he felt
+      that she knew as little about the conditions under which books are printed
+      as a child does about the paving of the streets of the City.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She knew that he would never again refer to the subject of those imaginary
+      letters of hers&mdash;he would be too considerate of her feelings to do
+      so; he would have no desire to humiliate her. He would not even rally her
+      in a playful way about her literary work, asking her how the printing was
+      progressing, and if she had made up her mind to start a coach as grand as
+      that magnificent piece of carved and gilded furniture which Sir Joshua had
+      just had built for himself&mdash;oh, no: her father had always respected
+      her sensibility. Years ago, when her brothers and sisters were making
+      their light jests upon her backwardness, he had stopped them and said that
+      he had no fears for the future of Fanny; and she was certain that in
+      referring to her, as he so frequently did, as &ldquo;poor Fanny,&rdquo; he meant
+      nothing but kindness to her. To be sure, at first it grated upon her
+      sensitiveness to be referred to in that kindly pitying way, but she did
+      not resent it&mdash;indeed, she usually thought of herself as &ldquo;poor
+      Fanny.&rdquo; In a household where proficiency in music was the standard from
+      which every member was judged, it was inevitable that her incompetence
+      should be impressed upon her; but no one was hard upon her&mdash;the
+      kindly &ldquo;poor Fanny&rdquo; of her father represented the attitude of the
+      household toward her, even when she had confided to some of the members
+      the fact that she was writing a novel. They had been startled; but, then,
+      a novel was not a musical composition, and such an achievement could not
+      be received with the warmth that Esther's playing received. It was really
+      not until the printed sheets of the book lay before Susy that she felt
+      that Fanny had, in one leap, brought herself well-nigh to the level of
+      Esther; and by the time Susy had read the story to the end she had made up
+      her mind that if it might be possible to compare the interest of a
+      literary work with that of the playing of a piece of music, Fanny's work
+      could claim precedence over the best that Esther had done&mdash;she had
+      confessed as much to Fanny in secret, and Fanny had called her a foolish
+      child.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny had seated herself in the parlour opening off the little hall, on
+      the departure of her father, and her memory took her back to the days she
+      had passed in the house at Poland Street, when she had written her story
+      of Caroline Evelyn, and had been induced by her stepmother to burn it,
+      with sundry dramas and literary moralizings after the manner of the <i>Tatler</i>&mdash;all
+      the work of her early youth. She recalled her resolution never again to
+      engage in any such unprofitable practices as were represented by the smoke
+      which was ascending from the funeral pyre of her &ldquo;Caroline Evelyn&rdquo; and the
+      rest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      How long had she kept to her resolution? She could not remember. She could
+      not recall having any sense of guilt when she had begun her &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo;&mdash;it
+      seemed to have sprung from the ashes of &ldquo;Caroline Evelyn&rdquo;&mdash;nor could
+      she recollect what had been on her mind when she was spending those long
+      chilly hours of her restricted leisure toiling over the book. All that she
+      could remember now was her feeling that it had to be written&mdash;that it
+      seemed as if someone in authority had laid on her the injunction to write
+      it, and she had no choice but to obey.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Well, she had obeyed&mdash;the book had been written and printed and she
+      meant to send the corrected sheets back to Mr. Lowndes in the course of
+      the day. Her father's consent to its publication had been obtained and it
+      would be advertised for sale within some months, and then&mdash;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her imagination was not equal to the pursuit of the question of its
+      future. Sometimes she felt that she never wished to hear of the book
+      again. She could almost hope that sending the sheets back to Mr. Lowndes
+      would be the same as dropping them, with a heavy stone in the parcel, into
+      the deep sea.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But that was when the trouble of getting her father's permission to
+      publish it was looming before her. Now that this cloud had been dispelled
+      she felt less gloomy. She had a roseate dream of hearing people talk about
+      the book and even wishing to know the name of the author. She had a dream
+      of Fame herself carrying her away to sublime heights&mdash;to such heights
+      as she had been borne by the singing of &ldquo;Waft her, Angels.&rdquo; Her dream was
+      of sitting on these heights of Fame by the side of the singer&mdash;on the
+      same level&mdash;not inferior in the eyes of the world&mdash;not as the
+      beggar maid uplifted in her rags to the side of the King.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That had been her dream when listening to the singing, and it returned to
+      her now, as she sat alone in the little parlour, having just taken the
+      last step that was necessary before giving to the world the book which was
+      to do so much for her. Her visions of success showed her no more
+      entrancing a prospect than that of being by his side with her fame as a
+      dowry worthy of his acceptance at her hands; so that people might not say
+      that he had chosen unworthily&mdash;he, who had all the world to choose
+      from.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And quite naturally there came to her in due sequence the marvellous
+      thought that he had already chosen her out of all the world&mdash;he had
+      chosen her, believing her to be the dowerless daughter of a music-teacher&mdash;the
+      one uninteresting member of a popular family!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This was the most delightful thought of the whole train that came to her.
+      It was worth cherishing above all the rest&mdash;close to her heart&mdash;close
+      to her heart. She hugged that thought so close to her that it became warm
+      with the warmth of her heart. Even though her book should never be heard
+      of again, even though the world might treat it with contempt, she would
+      still be consoled by the reflection that he had chosen her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why on earth should you be sitting here in the cold, Fanny?&rdquo; came the
+      voice from the opened door&mdash;the voice of firm domestic virtue.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cold? cold? Surely 'Tis not cold, mamma,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not so very cold; but when there is a fire in the work-room it should not
+      be wasted,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;But to say the truth you do not look as if
+      you were cold; your face is quite flushed, child. I hope you do not feel
+      that you are on the brink of a sickness, my dear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear mamma, I never felt stronger in my life,&rdquo; cried Fanny with a laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am glad to hear that. I was saying to Lottie just now that for some
+      days past you have had alternately a worried look and the look of one
+      whose brain is over-excited. Is anything the matter, my child?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing&mdash;nothing&mdash;indeed nothing! I never felt more at ease in
+      all my life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, well, a little exercise will do you no harm, I am sure; so put on
+      your hat and accompany me to the fishmonger's. He has not been treating us
+      at all fairly of late. It is not that I mind the remark made quite
+      respectfully by James at dinner yesterday&mdash;it would be ridiculous to
+      expect to find fish as fresh in the centre of London as he and his
+      shipmates were accustomed to in the middle of the Pacific Ocean; but it
+      would not be unreasonable for us to look for turbot with less of a taint
+      than that we had yesterday. You will hear the man excuse himself by
+      asserting that I chose the fish at his stall; but my answer to that&mdash;well,
+      come with me and you shall hear what is my answer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny went with her and heard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XVII
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE faithful Cousin
+      Edward had carried the sheets of &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; to Mr. Lowndes's shop, with her
+      list of errata, sisters Lottie and Susy giving him ample instructions as
+      to the disguise he should assume in discharging that duty; it would be
+      terrible, they thought, if the secret which they had so carefully guarded
+      for so long should be revealed just when it was most important that it
+      should be kept. Their imagination was keen enough to suggest to them the
+      possibility of good Mr. Lowdnes setting a watch upon the people entering
+      his shop, and giving instructions that the bearer of the parcel of
+      &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; should be detained and brought into his presence to be
+      questioned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They advised that Edward should muffle up his face well before going into
+      the shop, and then lay down his parcel and fly like the wind&mdash;that
+      would be the best way of defeating the curiosity of the bookseller.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Edward was of the opinion that such a course of action might possibly
+      only stimulate the man's curiosity as well as that of the people in the
+      street, and the cry of &ldquo;Stop thief!&rdquo; might bring his frantic flight to a
+      standstill. He thought that the most artful course to adopt would be to
+      hang around the shop until he found that several customers were within;
+      then he would enter quite casually and wait until Mr. Lowndes had served
+      one customer and was about to attend to another. If the parcel were thrust
+      into his hands during this interval, he, Edward, would have a good chance
+      of getting safely away before Mr. Lowndes should have time to examine its
+      contents.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They were rather struck with his idea, and he got permission to put it
+      into practice; but in any case he must take the greatest care of the
+      parcel; valuable parcels were snatched out of people's hands every day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He smiled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In another hour he was back at the house in St. Martin's Street to report
+      to them the safe delivery of the precious parcel. After all, he had had
+      nothing more exciting to do than to place it on a counter&mdash;the
+      elderly gentleman with a pen behind his ear had not even taken the trouble
+      to rise from his stool to receive it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Parcel for Mr. Lowndes? All right. Leave it there&rdquo;&mdash;those were the
+      exact words with which the parcel was received, Edward reported&mdash;the
+      clerk was buried in his ledger before he had left the shop.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The girls were not a little disappointed at this very tame conclusion of
+      what they expected would have been an exciting episode; and to say the
+      truth, their chagrin was shared by Cousin Edward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had looked for his resources of artfulness to be drawn on in the
+      transaction&mdash;perhaps even his physical qualifications for the defence
+      of the sacred secret as well. He felt as a strong man might feel on going
+      forth to meet a giant, to find himself confronted by a dwarf. The mission
+      was unworthy of his powers. Fanny's thanks heartily given to him, with the
+      repeated assurance that, but for him, the affair could never have been
+      carried out, scarcely compensated him for the tameness of the affair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For the next month or two it was a busy household in St. Martin's Street.
+      Lieutenant Burney was joining his ship for another long voyage, and he had
+      to be provided with a fresh outfit. The stitching that went on in the
+      work-room surpassed even that maintained during the months preceding
+      Esther's marriage; but the labour was lightened upon more than one
+      occasion by the appearance of Mr. Garrick. Mr. Garrick had the freedom of
+      the house in St. Martin's Street, as he had had that of the Poland Street
+      domicile, where he had so often spent hours amusing the children with his
+      inimitable drolleries.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Mrs. Burney thought he went a little too far in taking off their
+      friends, and even their own father, though his malicious touches were as
+      light as the pinches of Puck. He had been paying a visit to Mr. and Mrs.
+      Kendal, and he convulsed even Mrs. Burney by his acting of the scene of
+      his reception by them, the lady much more coy than she had ever been at
+      the Wells, and the gentleman overflowing in his attentions to her; but
+      both of them esteeming him as their benefactor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And they were so well satisfied with the honourable estate to which he had
+      called them, that they appeared to be spending all their time trying to
+      bring about matches among their acquaintance. No matter how unsuitable
+      some of the projected unions seemed, no matter how unlikely some of the
+      people were to do credit to their discrimination, they seemed determined
+      that none should escape &ldquo;the blissful bondage&rdquo;&mdash;that was Mr. Kendal's
+      neat phrase. Mr. Garrick repeated it with a smile that made his audience
+      fancy that Mr. Kendal was before them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'The blissful bondage&mdash;that's what I term it, sir,'&rdquo; said Mr.
+      Kendal, through Mr. Garrick. &ldquo;'But the worst of the matter is, Mr.
+      Garrick, that we have nearly exhausted our own circle of friends'&mdash;'I
+      can easily believe that, sir,' interposed Mr. Garrick&mdash;' and so we
+      feel it our duty to fall back upon you.' 'Lud, sir,' cried Mr. Garrick,
+      jumping a step or two back as if to avoid a heavy impact&mdash;'Lud, sir!
+      a little man like me! I should be crushed as flat as a black beetle.'
+      'Nay, sir, I mean that we are compelled to ask you for a list of a few of
+      your friends who, you think, should be brought together&mdash;half a dozen
+      of each sex would be sufficient to begin with.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I demurred,&rdquo; said Garrick, telling his story, &ldquo;but before 'the
+      blissful bondage' had been repeated more than a score of times I began to
+      think of all against whom I bore a grudge&mdash;here was clearly the means
+      of getting level with them; the only trouble with me was that I found
+      myself confounding the people who bore me a grudge with those against whom
+      I bore a grudge&mdash;the former are plentiful, the latter very meagre in
+      number. With the exception of a few very dear animosities which I was
+      hoarding up to make old age endurable, I have killed off all my enemies,
+      and was forced, like Mr. Kendal, to fall back on my friends; but even
+      among these I could find few that I could honestly say were deserving of
+      such a fate as I was asked to nominate them for. I ventured, however, to
+      mention the name of Lieutenant Burney, of His Majesty's Fleet, coupling it
+      with&mdash;I could not at first think of an appropriate partner for James,
+      but at last I hit upon exactly the right lady.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! a splice before I set sail next week?&rdquo; cried Jim. &ldquo;That's good
+      news, sir. And the lady's name, if you please, and her address. Give me my
+      hat, Susy; there is no time to be lost. A splice in a trice. Come, Mr.
+      Garrick, her name? Cannot you see that I am hanging in stays until you
+      tell me who she is?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is a very pleasant lady, sir. I can assure you of that,&rdquo; said
+      Garrick. &ldquo;Not too tall even with her hair built <i>à la mode</i>; a
+      pleasant smile, and a happy way of conversing. In short, Lieutenant
+      Burney, I can strongly recommend the lady, for I have known her for the
+      past twenty years and more, and from the first she was a staid, sensible
+      person&mdash;the very partner for a sailor, sir, being so contrary to him
+      in every point.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hark'ee, Mr. Garrick; though I don't quite see myself in tow of such a
+      state barge, I'll trouble you to relieve my suspense by telling me her
+      name.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have more than once thought when I was young that she would make me an
+      excellent wife,&rdquo; said Garrick; &ldquo;but I soon perceived that I was not good
+      enough for her. She has always been an exemplary sister, and I saw that,
+      try as I might, I could never become her equal in that respect; and for
+      married happiness, my boy, there is nothing like&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Her name&mdash;her name?&rdquo; shrieked the girls.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The actor looked at them with pained surprise on every feature.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Her name?&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Surely I have described her very badly if you have
+      not recognized the portrait. But, for that matter, I have often felt how
+      inadequate are words to describe character combined with grace&mdash;a
+      nature inclined to seriousness in conjunction with a desire to attract&mdash;loftiness
+      of purpose linked with a certain daintiness&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He made a few gestures with his hands, keeping his elbows close to his
+      side, and then imitated the spreading of a capacious skirt preparatory to
+      sinking in a curtsey, and in a moment there was a cry from every part of
+      the room of &ldquo;Miss Reynolds&mdash;Miss Reynolds!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And who has a word to say against Miss Reynolds?&rdquo; cried the actor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No one&mdash;no one,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;Character combined with grace&mdash;Miss
+      Reynolds linked with Lieutenant Burney.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She would make a fine sheet anchor for an Admiral of the Blue,&rdquo; laughed
+      Jim. &ldquo;And with your permission, sir, I will postpone my offer until I have
+      attained that rank.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have advised Mr. Kendal to hurry things on,&rdquo; said Garrick gravely. &ldquo;For
+      if you have time to spare before making up your mind, the lady cannot
+      reasonably be thought equally fortunate. 'Lieutenant Burney, your attitude
+      is not complimentary to the blissful bondage'&rdquo;&mdash;once more it was Mr.
+      Kendal who was in the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Call the roll,&rdquo; said Jim. &ldquo;Who comes next on your list, Mr. Garrick?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I was thinking of Dr. Johnson with Mrs. Abington,&rdquo; said Garrick;
+      &ldquo;but perhaps you may quibble even at that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The room rang with laughter, for everyone had seen the beautiful actress
+      whose lead in dress was followed by all the ladies in the fashionable
+      world who could afford to do so, and a greater number who could not; and
+      the worsted hose and scorched wig, two sizes too small, of Dr. Johnson had
+      been gazed at with awe by the Burney family when he visited the house in
+      St. Martin's Street.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let the banns be published without delay,&rdquo; cried Jim. &ldquo;Next pair,
+      please.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I was thinking of Signor Rauzzini and Mrs. Montagu,&rdquo; said Garrick,
+      &ldquo;but perhaps that would not be approved of by you any more than the
+      others.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, Mr. Garrick, I will not have our friends made any longer the subject
+      of your fooling,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Garrick and Jim had the laugh between them, but it seemed that they alone
+      saw the jest of coupling the lively Roman with the mature leader of the
+      bluestockings: the girls bent silently over their work.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Madam,&rdquo; said Garrick apologetically, &ldquo;I ask your pardon for my
+      imprudence. May I ask which name I am to withdraw? Was my offence the
+      introduction of the lady's name or the gentleman's? Oh, I can guess. Those
+      rosy-tinted faces before me&mdash;I vow that you will find yourself going
+      to sea with a chestful of pink shirts, Lieutenant&mdash;those sweet
+      blushing faces reveal the secret more eloquently than any words could do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Undoubtedly the three girls were blushing very prettily; but at the
+      mention of the word &ldquo;secret&rdquo; two of them gave a little start, but without
+      looking up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The secret&mdash;oh, I have been feeling for some time that I was well to
+      the leeward of a secret,&rdquo; cried Jim, &ldquo;and I'll not start tack or sheet
+      until I learn what it is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, sir; you a sailor and not able to penetrate the secret of a pretty
+      girl's blushes!&rdquo; cried Garrick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The brother looked at each of his sisters in turn. They continued
+      stitching away demurely at his shirts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Helm's a-lee,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Ready about, and off we go on another tack, for
+      hang me if I see anything of guilt on their faces, bless 'em! Come, Mr.
+      Garrick, you shall interpret them for me. Let me into the secret which you
+      say you have read as if it was a book.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Susy gave a sharp cry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The needle!&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;That is the third time it has pricked me since
+      morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pay no attention to her, sir,&rdquo; cried Garrick. &ldquo;It was a feint on her part
+      to put us off the scent of the secret.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In heaven's name, then, let us have it,&rdquo; cried Jim.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you will have it, here it is,&rdquo; said Garrick. &ldquo;Your three sisters, Mr.
+      Burney, are contemplating applying to Mrs. Montagu to be admitted to the
+      freedom and the livery of the Society of Bluestockings. That is why they
+      thought it akin to sacrilege for me to introduce the lady's name into a
+      jest. Their blush was but a reflex of their guilty intention.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed, Mr. Garrick, you go too far sometimes,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;Mrs.
+      Montagu is a worthy lady, and our girls respect her too highly to fancy
+      that they have any qualification to be received into her literary set.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Faith, Madam, I know my duty too well, I hope, to accuse any of the Miss
+      Burneys of possessing literary qualities,&rdquo; said Garrick. &ldquo;But what I do
+      say is that if such qualities as they possess were to be introduced into
+      Mrs. Montagu's set, it would quickly become the most popular drawing-room
+      in town. The idea of thinking that any young woman would go to the trouble
+      of writing a book when she can reach the heart of mankind so much more
+      easily by blushing over the breast of a shirt! Continue stitching and
+      doing your own blushing, dear children, and you will never give anyone
+      cause to blush for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He bowed elaborately to each of them in turn and afterward to Mrs. Burney,
+      and made a most effective exit. He always knew when he should go, and
+      never failed to leave a few fragrant phrases behind him, as though he had
+      dropped a bunch of roses for the girls to cherish.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where should we be without Mr. Garrick?&rdquo; said James, when he had seen the
+      actor to the door and returned to the work-room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If only he would not go too far in his jesting,&rdquo; remarked Mrs. Burney,
+      shaking her head. &ldquo;Mr. Garrick sometimes forgets himself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is how it comes that he is the greatest actor in the world,&rdquo; said
+      James. &ldquo;It is only when a man has learned to forget himself completely
+      that he causes everyone else to remember him. Now there's the text for a
+      homily that you can write to your Daddy Crisp, Fanny.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll note it, Jim, and if Mr. Crisp breaks off correspondence with me you
+      shall bear the blame,&rdquo; said Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mercy on us!&rdquo; whispered Susy when she was alone with her sister a little
+      later. &ldquo;I never got such a fright as when Mr. Garrick pretended to read
+      your secret. Thank goodness! he failed to get the least inkling of it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank goodness, indeed!&rdquo; whispered Fanny. But she was thinking of quite a
+      different secret when she spoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XVIII
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>E was beside her
+      before she was aware of it, in the great music-room at Lady Hales's house.
+      She had not seen him approach her&mdash;she could not have done so without
+      turning round, for he had approached her from behind, and slipped into the
+      chair that Esther had vacated in order to play to the company. Esther's
+      husband, who had been in the seat beyond her, had been led away some time
+      earlier by Mr. Linley's clever son in order that he might give an opinion
+      respecting one of the songs in a piece named <i>The Duenna</i>, which was
+      about to be produced at Drury Lane.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was beside her and whispering in her ear, though she had not even known
+      that he was to be present.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Of course he went through the pantomimic form of inquiring how it was that
+      she was alone&mdash;this was, she knew, for the benefit of anyone who
+      might be watching them and suspect an assignation. The idea of anyone
+      seriously fancying that Dr. Burney's daughter would have an assignation
+      with Signor Rauzzini in such a place and in the midst of such a company!
+      But Signor Rauzzini came from a land of intrigue, and his experience of
+      England led him to believe that he had come to another; and so he made
+      those gestures of inquiry, and she gave him a few words of explanation, so
+      that no one might suspect! But, for that matter, their chairs were in the
+      least conspicuous place in the room, and the shadow of the heavy hangings
+      of a window fell half across them both.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And we have not met for months,&rdquo; said he in French.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, have you forgotten our evening at the Pantheon?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Forgotten it? But that is months ago&mdash;ages. And it was all
+      unfinished&mdash;broken off when at its best&mdash;mutilated. That hour we
+      had! Oh, was it a melody suddenly interrupted when it was approaching its
+      best? Was it a poem snatched away by some ruthless hand just when we had
+      begun a deathless line?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What I remember best is your singing of 'Waft her.' I am not quite sure
+      that I have yet returned to the earth from those regions whither I felt
+      myself wafted. Are you conscious of having any part in <i>Dido</i> into
+      which you can throw yourself with the same spirit?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>Dido!</i> pah! <i>Dido</i> is a paltry playhouse&mdash;Maestro
+      Handel's work is a Sistine Chapel&mdash;ah, more&mdash;more&mdash;a noble
+      cathedral. When other composers built their garden houses in imitation of
+      Greek temples, he spent all his time raising cathedrals. His genius is his
+      own&mdash;mighty&mdash;overpowering! Every time I approach the great <i>maestro</i>
+      I feel that I should put off my shoes from my feet. It is holy ground&mdash;it
+      is&mdash;ah, mademoiselle, it was you who led me to chatter of myself and
+      my music when we were last together, and I had no wish to do so; I meant
+      to talk of yourself alone, but we had parted before I had the chance
+      again. I have been wondering ever since if such a chance would return&mdash;if
+      I had not thrown it away; and now you have lured me once more toward the
+      golden net of music; but I have seen it spread: I will not step into it. I
+      want to talk to you of love&mdash;love and you&mdash;and&mdash;me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He had restrained his voice so that it was no more than a whisper, and he
+      had chastened his gestures until he seemed rigid. Fanny knew that even if
+      their chairs had not been far away from the next that were occupied, his
+      words could reach no ears but her own; but the effort that he was making
+      to restrain his gestures&mdash;oh, was it not more significant to any
+      observant eye than his most florid action would have been? With bent head
+      she was conscious of the quivering of the muscles of his clenched hands&mdash;of
+      the tremulous earnestness of his expressive face. Surely everyone who so
+      much as glanced at him would know what was the subject of his discourse&mdash;and
+      hers&mdash;hers&mdash;but what should hers be? What answer was she to make
+      to such a man whispering such a word as love?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;You make me afraid. Is this the place? Is this
+      the time? Am I the one?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Every place is the place&mdash;every time is the time&mdash;and you&mdash;you
+      are the only one,&rdquo; said he, becoming more fervent every moment. &ldquo;If you
+      and I were alone&mdash;but we are alone&mdash;our love isolates us&mdash;we
+      are alone in the splendid isolation of our love. What are these people who
+      are about us? They are nothing to us&mdash;less than nothing, What are the
+      people in a church to the devout one who enters and keeps his eyes fixed
+      upon the lovely face of the saint to whom he prays. The saint and he are
+      in communion together, and their communion isolates them though the church
+      is crowded? I keep my eyes of devotion upon your face, my beautiful saint,
+      and I am rapt with the glory of this hour&mdash;we are carried away on the
+      wings of our love until the world is too far beneath us to be seen&mdash;only
+      the heaven is revealed to us&mdash;to me&mdash;I look into your face and I
+      have a glimpse of heaven itself! Ah, gentle saint, you will not deny me a
+      response&mdash;one word&mdash;only lift up your eyes&mdash;let our eyes
+      meet and it will be as if our lips had met. I am but a mortal, but I feel,
+      gazing into the face of my saint, as if I were immortal&mdash;immortal and
+      crossing the threshold of the heaven that is hers&mdash;I feel that we are
+      equal&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She drew in her breath&mdash;the sound was something like a gasp&mdash;the
+      gasp of one who has been swept away into the midst of a swirling sea and
+      made breathless. She had been swept away on the amazing flood of his
+      words; it was not until he had said that word &ldquo;equal&rdquo; that she felt
+      herself swirled into the air once more, so to speak, and gave that gasp
+      for breath: he, too, was breathless after his long and fervid outburst,
+      repressed as to tone, but sounding therefore all the more passionate. Her
+      gasp sounded like a sigh; his like a sob.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not yet&mdash;not yet,&rdquo; she said in a whisper&mdash;disjointed and
+      staccato. &ldquo;I cannot listen to you yet. I dare not&mdash;I have my pride.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pride? What is pride? How have I wounded your pride?&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Ah, my
+      God! you cannot think that I would propose anything that is not
+      honourable? You do not look on me as such a wretch? Ah, you cannot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no, no,&rdquo; she said quickly. &ldquo;I would trust you. I have looked into
+      your face. I have heard you sing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You place your faith in me? But you cannot do that unless you love me.
+      And if you love me&mdash;have I been too headlong? Have I startled you?
+      But surely you must have seen that on the very first day we met, before I
+      had been an hour in your presence, my life was yours. I tell you that I
+      knew it&mdash;not an hour&mdash;one glance was enough to tell me that I
+      was all yours, and that for me no other one lived or would ever live in
+      the world. What have you to say? Do not you believe me? What did you mean
+      by that word 'pride'? It does not seem to me that it had any connection
+      with you or me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do not ask me to explain anything just now,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;You would not
+      like to be asked to explain how you came to&mdash;to&mdash;think of me&mdash;to
+      feel in regard to me as you have said you do&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why should I shrink from it?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;But no one who has seen you
+      would put such a question to me. I loved you because you were&mdash;<i>you</i>.
+      Is not that enough? It would be sufficient for anyone who knew you. I saw
+      you sitting there&mdash;so sweetly timid&mdash;a little flower that is so
+      startled to find itself awakened into life in the spring, that it would
+      fain ask the earth to hide it again. I thought of you as that modest
+      little flower&mdash;a violet trying to obscure its own charm by the leaves
+      that surround it; but all in vain&mdash;in vain, for its presence has
+      given a subtle perfume to the air, and all who breathe of its delicate
+      sweetness take the spirit of the spring into their souls and know that a
+      violet is there, though hidden from their view. That is how I saw you. I
+      have always loved the violet, and felt that shyness and sweetness were
+      ever one; and am I to be reproached if I have a longing to pluck my violet
+      and have her ever with me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is madness&mdash;the poetry of madness,&rdquo; she cried, and there was
+      really a piteous note in her voice. &ldquo;But if I did not believe that you
+      feel every word that you have spoken, I would let you continue, and drink
+      in the sweetness of every word that falls from your lips. It is because I
+      know that you are speaking from your heart and because I also know my own
+      unworthiness that I pray of you to say no more&mdash;yet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why should I not tell you the truth, if you confess that you believe I am
+      speaking sincerely?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sincerely, but in a dream.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is all love a dream, then?&mdash;is that what is in your thought?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not want it to be a dream. I wish the love to continue with your
+      eyes open, and therefore I say&mdash;not yet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You wish my love to continue? Oh, never doubt that your wish shall be
+      granted. But why that 'not yet '? I am weary of this mystery.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She was perplexed. Why should she hold out any longer against this
+      impetuous Prince of the land of King Cophetua? Why should she not be as
+      other girls who allow themselves to be lifted out of insignificance by the
+      man who loves them. Why should that gift of being able to see more closely
+      into the truth of things that most others accept without a question, be
+      laid upon her as a burden?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had a strong impulse to let her resolution go down the wind, and to
+      put her hand in his, no matter who might be looking on, and say the word
+      to him that would give him happiness. Who was she to suggest that his
+      happiness would not endure&mdash;that her happiness would not endure?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was perplexed. She had more than once been called prim; but that only
+      meant that it was her nature to weigh everything in a mental balance, as
+      it were, and her imagination was equal (she thought) to the task of
+      assigning their relative value to the many constituents of human
+      happiness. If she had been told that this meant that she had not yet been
+      in love, and that she was not now in love, she would not have felt uneasy
+      in her mind. She did not mistrust the feeling she had for the man who was
+      beside her. Surely this was the very spirit of truth in loving, to be
+      ready to sacrifice everything, so that unhappiness should not overtake
+      him; and she had long ago felt that unhappiness only could result from his
+      linking his life with one who was rather less than a mere nobody. The
+      thought never once left her mind of what would be said when it was known
+      that she had married him. A dunce's triumph, the incident would be styled
+      by the wits, and (assuming that the wits were masculine) how would it be
+      styled by the opposite sex? She could see uplifted hands&mdash;incredulous
+      eyebrows raised, while they discussed it, and she knew that the conclusion
+      that everyone would come to was that to be the most divine singer in the
+      world did not save a man from being the greatest fool in the world.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Was her love the less true because her intelligence insisted on her
+      perceiving that such a man as Signor Rauzzini would not be happy if
+      married to a nonentity like herself? &ldquo;Surely not,&rdquo; she would have cried.
+      &ldquo;Surely it is only the truest of all loves that would be ready to
+      relinquish its object rather than bring unhappiness upon him! Is
+      intelligence never to be found in association with true love? Must true
+      love and folly ever be regarded as allies?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her intellect was quick in apprehending the strength of the position taken
+      up by two combatants in an argument; but the juxtaposition of the Prim and
+      the Passionate was too much for her. She was all intellect; he was all
+      passion. Her mental outlook on the situation was acute; but his was
+      non-existent. His passion blinded him; her intellect had a thousand eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And there he was by her side; she could almost hear the strong beating of
+      his heart in the pause that followed his question.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is this mystery?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was her feeling of this tumultuous beating of his heart that all but
+      made her lose her intellectual foothold. His heart beating close to hers
+      swayed her as the moon sways the tides, until for some moments she could
+      not have told whether it was her heart or his that was beating so wildly&mdash;only
+      for some moments, however; only long enough for that madness to suggest
+      itself to her&mdash;to let her resolution fly to the winds&mdash;what did
+      anything matter so long as she could lay her hand in his, and feel his
+      fingers warm over hers? It was her first acquaintance with the tyranny of
+      a heart aflame, and for a moment she bent her head before it. He thought
+      that he had got the better of her scruples, whatever they were, by the way
+      her voice broke as she said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Madness&mdash;it would be madness!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was not acute enough to perceive that she was talking to herself&mdash;trying
+      to bring her reason to help her to hold out against the throbbing of her
+      heart&mdash;<i>his</i> heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It would indeed be madness for us to turn our backs upon happiness when
+      it is within our reach,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;That is what you would say, sweet
+      saint?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But she had now recovered herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed it is because I have no thought except for your happiness that I
+      entreat of you to listen to me,&rdquo; said Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will listen to you if you tell me in one word that you love me,&rdquo; said
+      he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was no pause before she turned her eyes upon him saying:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You know it. You have never doubted it. It is because I love you so truly
+      I wish to save you from unhappiness. I want to hold your love for ever and
+      ever.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My sweet saint! You have heard my prayers. You are to make me happy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All that I can promise as yet is to save you from supreme unhappiness. I
+      am strong enough to do so, I think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can save me from every unhappiness if you will come to me&mdash;and
+      you are coming, I know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope that if you ask me three months hence I shall be able to say
+      'yes'; but now&mdash;at this moment&mdash;I dare not. It is not so long to
+      ask you to wait, seeing that I have let you have a glimpse of my heart,
+      and told you that as you feel for me, so I feel for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Three months is an eternity! Why should it be in three months? Why not
+      now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She shook her head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I cannot tell you. It is my little secret,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Ah, is it not
+      enough that I have told you I love you? I shall never cease to love you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, this accursed place! These accursed people!&rdquo; he murmured. &ldquo;Why are we
+      fated to meet only surrounded by these wretches? Why cannot we meet where
+      I can have you in <i>my</i> arms, and kiss your lips that were made for
+      kissing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was something terrifying to her in that low whisper of his. He had
+      put his head down to her until his lips were close to her ear. She felt
+      the warmth of his face; it made her own burn. But she could not move her
+      face away to the extent of an inch. Her feminine instinct of flight was
+      succeeded by the equally feminine instinct of surrender. If it had been
+      his intention&mdash;and it certainly seemed that it was&mdash;to kiss her
+      in the presence of all the company, she would still have been incapable of
+      avoiding such a caress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He swore again in her ear, and Fanny, for all her primness, felt a regret
+      deep down in her heart that her training would not allow of her expressing
+      herself through the same medium.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But he did not come any nearer to her than that. He changed his phrases of
+      abuse of their entourage to words of delight at her presence so close to
+      him&mdash;alternately passionate and tender. His voice became a song in
+      her ears, containing all such variations. His vocalism was equal to the
+      demand put upon it. It was his <i>métier</i> to interpret such emotions,
+      and now he did justice to his training, even if he fell short&mdash;and he
+      was conscious of doing so&mdash;of dealing adequately with his own
+      feelings. He called her once again his sweet saint who had heard his
+      prayer; his cherished flower, whose fragrance was more grateful to him
+      than all the incense burned in all the temples of the world was to the
+      Powers above.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was, he repeated, her violet modesty that had first made him adore her.
+      Her humility brought before his eyes the picture painted by Guido Reni&mdash;the
+      Madonna saying: <i>Ecce ancilla Domini</i>.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ah, her humility was divine. And she was so like his mother&mdash;his dear
+      mother who had died when he was a boy and who had taught him to sing. Ah,
+      she was herself now singing in Paradise, and she would look down and
+      approve his choice. She, too, had been as meek as a flower, and had never
+      been so happy as when they had been together at a little farm in Tuscany
+      with him by her side among the olives. Oh, she would approve his choice.
+      And quite simply he addressed his dead mother, as though she were beside
+      him, asking her if she could desire to have a daughter sweeter or more
+      gentle. He had lapsed into his native Italian in this; but Fanny could
+      follow his slow, devout words, and her eyes were full of tears, her heart
+      of love.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She now perceived how simple and gentle a nature was that of the young
+      Roman. He remained unspoilt by the adulation which he had received both in
+      his own country and in England. Seeing him thus revealing a simplicity
+      which she had not associated with him before, she was led to ask herself
+      if there was, after all, so great a difference between them as she had
+      believed to exist. She had forgotten all about his singing, and he was now
+      in her eyes nothing more than a man&mdash;the man who loved her. Ah, that
+      was enough. He loved her, and therefore she was bound to save him from the
+      mortification of hearing the whispers of the people around them asking how
+      he could ever have been stupid enough to marry a girl like herself, who
+      was a nobody and without a fortune, when he might have chosen any girl in
+      the world.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her resolution came back to her with greater force than ever. Since he had
+      made his nature plain to her, it would, she felt, be taking advantage of
+      his simplicity to engage herself to him just as she was. She knew more of
+      the world than he did. She knew how the world talked, and how it would
+      talk regarding herself as well as regarding him in such a matter. He was
+      simple and generous; it was necessary for her to take thought for both of
+      them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you heard me?&rdquo; he asked of her in a whisper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The tears are still in my eyes,&rdquo; she replied. &ldquo;Oh, my dear friend, cannot
+      you see how bitter it is for me to be compelled to ask you to wait for
+      these months that I spoke of? Cannot you see that it is a matter of
+      conscience and honour? Ah, I should never forgive myself if I were to do
+      other than I have done! If you&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear one,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;I ask for nothing more than to hear you tell me that
+      you love me. Who am I, that I should demand your secret? So long as you do
+      not conceal your love from me, I do not mind if you have a score of
+      secrets locked away in your white bosom. Tell me again that you love me
+      and all must be well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked at him, but he knew that she could not see a feature of his
+      face by reason of the tears that were still in her eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XIX
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T was on one of
+      the last mornings in January that Mrs. Burney was reading out of the
+      newly-arrived <i>London Chronicle</i> such paragraphs as she thought would
+      appeal to the varied interests of the breakfast-table. There were a few
+      announcements of marriages about to take place between people whose names
+      they knew, the amount of the bride's dowry being stated in each in plain
+      figures, though Mrs. Burney took it upon her to affirm in one or two cases
+      that the sum was exaggerated, or to suggest that if the father of the
+      bride were just enough to pay his debts first, the portion of his daughter
+      would be considerably reduced. In the case of one of the gentlemen, who
+      was marrying thirty thousand pounds, she ventured to express the hope that
+      he would now pay at least some of his creditors.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      These were, of course, the most interesting items of news, though their
+      attractiveness was not greatly superior to that of the gossip respecting
+      Mr. F&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;, who had been noticed in high dudgeon because
+      of Lady P&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;'s dancing three times with Sir Julian Y&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;;
+      or that which suggested that a reconcilement must have taken place between
+      the beautiful Mrs. G&mdash;&mdash;&mdash; and her husband, for they had
+      been seen taking the air together in the Park.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was also pleasant to learn that His Majesty had given great
+      encouragement to Mrs. Delany in the production of her ingenious mosaic
+      flowers, in which she was so skilled as to excite the wonder of several
+      criticks in the Royal circle; and also that His Royal Highness the Prince
+      of Wales had been graciously pleased to say in publick that he had always
+      admired the Perdita of the beautiful Mrs. Robinson, though he considered
+      Mrs. Abington, on the whole, the most tasteful dresser in the Drury Lane
+      company.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was only when Mrs. Burney had folded the newspaper and was about to put
+      it away, that a few lines of an advertisement caught her eye&mdash;she
+      commented before she read, as though she had been a fully qualified
+      critic:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;More novels! More stuff for the circulating libraries! Enough to make
+      poor Mr. Richardson feel uncomfortable in his grave! Could he but have
+      known that he was turning all England into novel readers he would never
+      have put pen to paper. Here is another imitator in the field. 'Evelina;
+      or, a Young Lady's Entrance into the World,' published to-day by Mr.
+      Lowndes&mdash;three volumes, seven and sixpence sewed, nine shillings in
+      covers. 'Evelina,' a distant cousin to 'Clarissa' and 'Pamela' I doubt
+      not. I hope your father will not bring anyone here to dinner to-day.
+      Hashed mutton is a wholesome dish, to be sure, but some visitors are
+      fastidious. He may bring as many as he pleases to-morrow, for Mr.
+      Greville's gift of pheasants will be on the table. Why are you staring so
+      at your sister, Lottie?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lottie was becoming a hardened dissembler: she scarcely started when asked
+      to interpret certain furtive glances she cast at Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was wondering if Fanny would make a face: she never was fond of hashed
+      mutton,&rdquo; said Lottie glibly. &ldquo;If she had gone to school in France she
+      would soon have got a liking for it, cooked as it is there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not partial to French kickshaws,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;There's nothing
+      like good English fare. To my thinking, the principle of making food tasty
+      when in ordinary circumstances it should not be so, is a bad one. Hash of
+      mutton is wholesome food, and it should be eaten as such without further
+      question. If Providence had meant it to be tasty as well, He would have
+      made His intentions as plain as in the case of roast pheasant.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lottie will tell you that I made no face at the mention of hash of
+      mutton,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;What does it signify whether one sits down to a
+      simple platter of mutton hash or a great dinner such as father gets at Mr.
+      Thrale's? A pair of geese, a leg of mutton, a tongue, a rib of roast beef
+      and a brace of pheasants, with two or three dishes of fish, and for Dr.
+      Johnson a veal pie or a piece of pork&mdash;those were on the table at one
+      time. What is the benefit of such abundance, when all that one can eat is
+      a single slice of beef?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She spoke rapidly, for she, too, had been a great dissembler. She meant to
+      take away her stepmother's attention from those questionable glances which
+      she had exchanged with Lottie; and she succeeded very well.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It would make no difference to us whether we had one dish or ten; but it
+      makes all the difference in the world to Mr. Thrale. They say he has a
+      prodigious appetite, and eats of at least six heavy dishes of meat at
+      dinner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Baretti affirms that some day he will not awake from the stupor into
+      which he falls after one of his heavy meals,&rdquo; said Susy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And all the time Mrs. Thrale is entreating him to be more moderate,&rdquo;
+       cried Lottie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A humiliating duty for such as Mrs. Thrale,&rdquo; said her mother. &ldquo;That shows
+      how true is all that Fanny has remarked: a simple dish should be enough
+      for any reasonable person. I have often wondered how the converse at the
+      Streatham table could be so wise and witty if the master of the house eats
+      like a hog, and Dr. Johnson, suffering from ill-health, expends so much
+      energy over his pork that the veins stand out on his forehead and his face
+      is bathed in perspiration.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sure that Mrs. Thrale has wit and liveliness enough to serve for the
+      whole company,&rdquo; said Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is chatty enough, I doubt not,&rdquo; replied Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;There are those
+      who think she talks over-much for a woman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not for a woman of fashion,&rdquo; suggested Lottie with some pertness, when
+      their stepmother had left the room. &ldquo;It is long since Mrs. Thrale has
+      invited mother to one of the Streatham dinners,&rdquo; she added under her
+      breath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then the three fell upon the <i>Chronicle</i> for the announcement of
+      the book.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They read it in whispers, each following the other, as though it were the
+      <i>piano</i> part of a catch or a glee, and glancing fearfully toward the
+      door now and again, lest it should open and Mrs. Burney reappear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How amazing it is!&rdquo; said Susy. &ldquo;This is the announcement of the birth of
+      a baby&mdash;and such a baby!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The birth and the christening and all,&rdquo; said Lottie. &ldquo;Oh, Fanny, I had no
+      idea that it would be in the papers&mdash;I forgot that it would be
+      advertised; and when mamma read this out I thought I should sink through
+      the floor. So did you, I know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I only wish that it had been possible,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;I could feel myself
+      getting hot all over my body. And then you gave me that look, Lottie!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Could I help it?&rdquo; asked Lottie. &ldquo;You cannot blame me. I really thought
+      that it was you who gave me a look, as much as to say: 'If you let the cat
+      out of the bag I will never forgive you&mdash;no, never! '&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind! Among us we managed to get out of the difficulty very well, I
+      think. Were we not clever, guiding the conversation away from Mr.
+      Lowndes's shop on to the high road to Streatham?&rdquo; cried Susy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Twas the hash that saved us,&rdquo; said Lottie. &ldquo;Have you not heard dear Jim
+      applying the sailors' expression, to make a hash of something? But we
+      didn't make a hash of our matter, did we, Fanny?&rdquo; said Susan.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We have become adroit dissemblers, and I am growing more ashamed of it
+      every day,&rdquo; cried Fanny. &ldquo;I have reached the condition of a man of whom I
+      read in a volume of history: he had committed a crime, and the effort that
+      it cost him to keep it hidden so preyed upon his mind that he could stand
+      the strain no longer, so he confessed it and was relieved.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But he could not have been really happy until they hanged him,&rdquo; said
+      Susy. &ldquo;And do you intend to confess and be hanged, Fanny? Please do not. I
+      think it is the most exciting thing in the world to share a secret like
+      this. I would not have missed the enjoyment for anything. Think, Fan, if
+      you were to confess, you would draw us into it too&mdash;you would make us
+      out to be as guilty as yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will not confess,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;No; it would not be honourable of me.
+      But I do feel that the secret is having a bad effect upon us all. It has
+      made us all such&mdash;such&mdash;dissemblers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Psha!&rdquo; said Lottie with a sniff. &ldquo;That's only another way of saying that
+      we are ladies of quality at an early age.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny shook her head. She thought that if any proof were needed of the ill
+      effects of their treasuring their secret from their parents, this cynical
+      pertness of Lottie supplied it. She shook her head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should like 'Evelina' to come into mamma's hands,&rdquo; continued Lottie.
+      &ldquo;She will go through the three volumes at a hand gallop, even though she
+      did take it upon her to condemn it as being on a level with the odious
+      stuff that comes to us nowadays.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And if she condemns it so heartily before she has read it, what will she
+      say about it when she has finished the last chapter?&rdquo; asked Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She will say that it is the prettiest story that has been written since
+      her dear Mr. Richardson died,&rdquo; said Susy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I doubt it, my dear,&rdquo; said Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, let the worst come, she will never guess that you wrote it,&rdquo;
+       laughed Lottie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is the padre whom I fear,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;Surely he will not need to go
+      beyond the Ode on the first leaf to know that it is he himself whom I
+      address.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And if he should&mdash;smoke it?&rdquo; asked Susy, lapsing into slang which
+      she had acquired from her sailor brother, who was in no sense a purist.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If he should&mdash;well, either of two things will happen,&rdquo; replied the
+      authoress. &ldquo;He will either think me the most double-dealing wretch in the
+      world or the most dutiful of daughters.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And which will be right?&rdquo; asked Lottie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Both views will be right,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;Although I meant every word of
+      the Ode, I really think now that the idea of writing it before the
+      dedication came to me only when I felt that I had behaved badly in sending
+      the book to the printer without his consent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You wished the Ode to be a sort of peace-offering?&rdquo; said Susy. &ldquo;You hoped
+      that when he read it he would forget to be angry? Well, that was cunning
+      of you, Fanny!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I tell you that the whole affair has had a bad effect upon us all,&rdquo; said
+      Fanny gently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Once again she was conscious of someone telling her that there was no use
+      crying over spilt milk, and this impression was followed by one that took
+      the form of a resolution to be more careful in future. If she had spilt
+      some milk once, that was no reason why she should not, by exercising
+      proper forethought, refrain from doing so again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the book was now given to the world, if the world would have it, but
+      as yet a copy had not come into her hand. She wondered if she would have
+      to spend seven and sixpence in buying a copy. Seven shillings and
+      sixpence, sewed. It was a great deal of money. Was it possible that there
+      were five hundred people in the world ready to pay seven and sixpence for
+      a novel with the name of no author on the title page? (She thought it best
+      to leave out of her consideration altogether the possible purchasers of
+      the nine shilling set of bound volumes.)
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Who were the people that ever laid out so much money upon books which
+      could be read through between the rising and the setting of the sun? She
+      had never met such liberal enthusiasts. Of course, it was only reasonable
+      that so splendid a work as the &ldquo;History of Music&rdquo; should be in the library
+      of every house wherein people of taste resided, but that was not a book to
+      be galloped through; some people might not be able to read it within a
+      month. Besides, it bore the honoured name of Dr. Burney on the title page,
+      and the fame of Dr. Burney was great. But as for that poor little
+      seven-and-sixpenny sewed &ldquo;Evelina,&rdquo; how should anyone take an interest in
+      her without reading her story? How would anyone read her story without
+      feeling afterwards that seven-and-sixpence (leaving the nine shilling
+      expenditure out of the question) was a ridiculous price to pay for such an
+      entertainment?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She felt that people would come to look on her as the instigator of a
+      fraud if they paid their money and read the book and then found out that
+      she had written it. The wisdom of concealing her name even from the
+      bookseller was now more apparent to her than it had ever been. She had
+      visions of indignant purchasers railing against Mr. Lowndes, and Mr.
+      Lowndes searching for her, so that he might rail against her; and so her
+      speculations ended in laughter; but even her laughter grated upon her
+      sensitive ears: she felt that it was the malicious jeering of a clever
+      cheat at the thought of having got the better of a worthy man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her precious &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; was leading her a pretty dance. If it had not been
+      able to do so it would have been a paltry sort of book and she would have
+      been a paltry sort of author.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XX
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>WO or three weeks
+      passed without her hearing anything of the book, and it seemed as if it
+      had fallen, as she had at some moments hoped it would fall, like a dull
+      stone into the depths of the sea. She heard nothing of it, and soon she
+      perceived that her sisters felt grievously disappointed at its failure to
+      produce any impression upon the town. Even a dull stone, if dropped into
+      the deep, creates a little fuss on the surface before it sinks out of
+      sight; but Fanny's book did not, so far as they could see, produce even so
+      superficial an impression. What they expected of it they might have had
+      some trouble explaining; but as it was, they could not conceal their
+      disappointment from Fanny; and they showed it after a short time in a very
+      delicate way: they never alluded to the book in her presence. She
+      perceived that what was in their minds was that it would show very bad
+      taste on their part to refer to it in any way. She was grateful for their
+      consideration; and she resolved to accept their decision on this point as
+      final; she would never allude to the horrid thing in their hearing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It so happened, however, that she was left alone with Susy in the house
+      one evening. Dr. Burney and his wife had gone to a concert at Esther's,
+      and Lottie was staying for a day or two in the country. Susy was
+      practising her part of a new duet on the piano, and Fanny was at her
+      sewing. So far as conversation between the two sisters was concerned, the
+      evening had been a very silent one. Indeed, during the whole week a
+      constrained silence had marked the intercourse of the three girls.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Susy hammered away at the music for half an hour; then her playing became
+      more fitful, and at last it ceased altogether.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a long silence before Fanny heard a little sound that caused her
+      to raise her head. It was the sound of a sob, and when she looked up she
+      saw that Susy was leaning her forehead upon the bottom of the music rest,
+      weeping bitterly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny was by her side in a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dearest Susy, what is the matter?&rdquo; she said soothingly. &ldquo;Tell me, dear;
+      has anything happened? Has anyone been unkind to you? Have I unwittingly
+      done or said anything that seemed to you unkind? Tell me all, Susy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But Susy continued crying with her face hidden, though she yielded one of
+      her hands to Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, my dear, I have helped you before now, and I may be able to help
+      you now. Prithee, what is your trouble?&rdquo; said Fanny, putting her arm round
+      the girl's shoulders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Still Susy remained silent, except for her sobs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me,&rdquo; said Fanny, in a whisper. &ldquo;Is it that you think that I am
+      chagrined about&mdash;about&mdash;the book?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In an instant Susy had whirled round on her seat and flung her arms round
+      her sister's neck, laying her head on her shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Fanny, Fanny, 'tis too cruel!&rdquo; she sobbed. &ldquo;We were sure that so much
+      would come of it&mdash;it seemed so splendid to read, even before it was
+      printed&mdash;so much better than any other story that ever came into our
+      hands&mdash;and you worked so hard at it&mdash;every spare moment when you
+      might have been enjoying yourself&mdash;in the cold of last winter up in
+      that room&mdash;and at Lynn too&mdash;and Chessington&mdash;and now, when
+      we think that your cleverness, your patience, your genius, is to be
+      rewarded, nothing comes of it&mdash;all your trouble has gone for nothing&mdash;all
+      our secrecy! Oh, it is too cruel!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You dear child,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;It is only cruel if it sets you crying in
+      this way. What does it matter to anyone if the book has gone and nothing
+      has come of it? I have been thinking that writing a book and publishing it
+      is like throwing a stone into the sea. It may fall so that it sinks down
+      plumb, or it may fall so that it makes a splash for a while, but it sinks
+      to the bottom all the same. Success or failure is only the difference
+      between a splash and a ripple. We were fools to fancy that our little
+      stone would float.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it was not a stone, it was full of life and it should have&mdash;it
+      should have&mdash;swum! Oh, the people who buy books are so stupid!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are&mdash;that was the hope that I builded on. They are stupid, but
+      not stupid enough to buy my book.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Fanny!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is really the frame of mind that I find myself in to-day. I tell you
+      truly, Susy, that after the first week, I schooled myself to think of the
+      business in this way; and I am certain that in another month I shall even
+      feel delighted that my little pebble made no splash. Look at the matter
+      philosophically, Susy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, philosophically!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, reasonably. Are we in a different position to-day from that we were
+      in before the book was published? We are not. We are just the same as we
+      were before. It has not injured us in any way. Nay, if you think of it, we
+      are&mdash;I, at least, am&mdash;all the better for having failed, for I
+      have learned my lesson. I was beginning to feel cleverer than I had any
+      right to think myself, and this has come as a chastening&mdash;to make me
+      know my right place. These rebukes do not come by chance, Susy. I know now
+      that I was inclined to hold my head too high. I don't think that I will do
+      so again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You never held your head too high&mdash;just the opposite. And I think it
+      very cruel that you should be rebuked for nothing. But I do not blame <i>anyone</i>
+      except the wretched people who refused to buy your nice book, but spent
+      their seven and sixpence at Vauxhall or Ranelagh&mdash;perhaps watching
+      Mr. Foote and his puppets at the Haymarket. Oh, I have no patience with
+      them! Why, it only needed a thousand people to buy the book and it would
+      have been accounted a success!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then we shall put the blame on the shoulders of that thousand,
+      wheresoever they may be found, and for my part I shall not hold a second
+      thousand altogether blameless&mdash;my indignation may even extend to a
+      third. Now, that's the last word I mean to speak about the book. It has by
+      this time reached the bottom of the sea on which I threw it; and there let
+      it lie!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are an angel&mdash;I see that plainly now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, there you see, what I said was true: I am much better for the rebuke
+      I talked about; you never perceived before that I was an angel. Now let
+      that be the last word between us on the subject of my poor little
+      'Evelina.' Her entrance into the world has proved fatal. Oh, Susy, she was
+      stillborn, but her parent is making a rapid recovery.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That may be; but cannot you join with me in&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will join with you in maintaining silence on the subject of the little
+      one. I cannot bear to hear her name mentioned. I refuse to say another
+      word about her or her fate. She must have been greatly beloved of the gods
+      to die so young. Let that be 'Evelina's' epitaph. I will say nothing more
+      about her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It so happened, however, that she was compelled to say a good deal more on
+      the subject, for within half an hour Cousin Edward had called, and he
+      began to talk of &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; at once.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I went to Hill's library in the Strand yesterday, to get a book for
+      mother, and there, sure enough, I saw your 'Evelina,'&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;I asked
+      the man in charge what it was about, and he replied that he didn't know;
+      it was bad enough, he thought, to be compelled to hand out books all day
+      to readers without being forced to read them for himself; but he supposed
+      that 'Evelina' was a novel of the usual sort.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That was not extravagant praise,&rdquo; remarked Susy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He didn't mean to praise it,&rdquo; said Edward. &ldquo;But when I asked him if
+      anyone who had read it had recommended it, he admitted that every one of
+      the five ladies who had read it was ready to speak well of it&mdash;one of
+      them had taken it away a second time; and&mdash;would you believe it?&mdash;while
+      I was standing at the counter a footman entered the shop with a demand for
+      'Eveliena,' as he called it; and he carried off the copy that was already
+      on the desk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For the delectation of the servants' hall?&rdquo; suggested Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not at all&mdash;it had been recommended to her ladyship, he said, and he
+      had been commanded on no account to return without it; her ladyship was
+      liberal; she would not mind paying sixpence for it, instead of the
+      ordinary fourpence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That was more than liberal, it was generous to a degree,&rdquo; said Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't interrupt him,&rdquo; cried Susy. &ldquo;Continue your narrative, Eddy. I am
+      dying to hear the rest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I asked the library man if he knew who wrote the book, and he replied
+      that he had heard the name, but had forgotten it; so far as he remembered
+      the author was a peer of high rank but eccentric habits,&rdquo; said Edward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The book represented his eccentric habits, I suppose,&rdquo; remarked Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I ran out of the place roaring,&rdquo; said Edward. &ldquo;'A peer of high rank but
+      eccentric habits'&mdash;describes you to a T, doesn't it, Cousin Fanny?
+      Pray what is your lordship's next work to be, and when will it be given to
+      an eager world?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is that all you have to tell?&rdquo; asked Susy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By no means. When I heard that the book was thought well of in the
+      Strand, I thought I would try to get at the opinion of Stanhope Street&mdash;you
+      know Masterman's circulating library there? Well, I boldly entered, and
+      there, sure enough, was a well-thumbed 'Evelina' in front of the
+      librarian. I asked for some book that no one had ever heard of, and when
+      the librarian had told me that he had never been asked for that book
+      before, I pointed to 'Evelina,' inquiring if it was any good. 'I'm dead
+      tired on account of its goodness, for I was fool enough to take it to bed
+      with me last night, and I never closed my eyes in sleep,' he replied. 'I
+      had it praised to me by a lady of quality, and so too hastily concluded
+      that it would either send me asleep with its dullness, or shock me with
+      its ribaldry; but it did neither, unhappily.' Just then a chariot stopped
+      at the door and another footman entered with the name 'Evelina' written on
+      a sheet of paper, and off he popped with the full three volumes under his
+      arm. I waited no longer; but hurried hither to give you my news. I did not
+      get so far, however, for I was unlucky enough to be overtaken by that vile
+      downpour of rain, and it did not blow over until your dinner hour was at
+      hand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are my good angel,&rdquo; cried Fanny, her cheeks glowing. &ldquo;We have heard
+      nothing of all this respecting the book, and, hearing nothing, we took it
+      for granted that it was dead&mdash;dead before it was ever alive. Oh, this
+      is good news you have brought us, Eddy!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The best news that has come to us for months!&rdquo; said Susy. She had turned
+      her head away and was furtively wiping her eyes. The good news affected
+      the sympathetic Susy almost as deeply as her disappointment had done.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I have only told you of my adventures of yesterday,&rdquo; said Edward.
+      &ldquo;To-day I tried the booksellers, beginning with Mr. Davies and
+      working-round to the Dillys in the Poultry&mdash;it cost me three
+      shillings, for I had to buy something that I did not particularly want in
+      every shop to excuse my inquiries&mdash;and I found 'Evelina' on every
+      counter. I cannot say that any customer came in to buy it while I was in
+      any shop, but you may be sure that the book would not be on the counter
+      unless it was highly thought of. Of course I had need to be very discreet
+      among the booksellers; I dared not ask who was the author, but I longed to
+      do so, if only to hear what new story had been made up about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You heard quite enough to make us glad,&rdquo; cried Susy. &ldquo;Oh, how foolish we
+      were to take it for granted that because we had no news of the book, it
+      was dead! It is alive&mdash;greatly alive, it would appear! How could any
+      news of it have come to us here? We should have gone forth in search of
+      it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I knew that we could depend on your discretion,&rdquo; said Fanny, laying a
+      hand on each of his shoulders. &ldquo;I do not think that I ever thanked you as
+      I should for the wise way in which you managed the business with Mr.
+      Lowndes, and now I must not neglect to do so for having acted the part of
+      a benevolent agent in bringing us such good news about the book.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Psha! there should be no talk of gratitude and the like between us,&rdquo; said
+      he. &ldquo;There are family ties&mdash;I think of the honour of our family.
+      People already talk of the clever Burneys, but they left you out of the
+      question, Cousin Fanny, since they only thought of music. But now that you
+      have shown what you can do in another direction, you must be reckoned with
+      alongside the others.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what about the other branch of the clever Burneys?&rdquo; said Fanny.
+      &ldquo;Don't you think that people will some of these days begin to ask if
+      Edward Burney, the great painter, is really a brother of the musical
+      Burneys? I hope they will, dear Edward; I hope that the fame of Edward
+      Burney, the painter, will go far beyond that of the musical Burneys, as
+      well as poor Fanny Burney who once wrote a novel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young man blushed as Fanny herself would certainly have done if
+      confronted with the least little compliment. But there was no false shame
+      about his acceptance of her suggestion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean to become as good a painter as I can, in order to be worthy of the
+      name of Burney,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;I feel proud of being a Burney&mdash;more so
+      to-day than ever before, and I hope that the rest of the Burney's will
+      some day look on me as doing credit to our name.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sure that they will have every reason to do so,&rdquo; said Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When he had gone, Susy gave way to her delight at the news which he had
+      brought. She was a good deal taller than Fanny, and catching her round the
+      waist after the manner of the Elizabethan dancer with his partner, she
+      danced round the table with her, lilting a somewhat breathless pæan. Fanny
+      herself needed no coaxing to be her partner in this revel. In her jubilant
+      moments she got rid of the primness which most people associated with her.
+      She had a wild jig known as &ldquo;Nancy Dawson,&rdquo; and she had more than once
+      found it necessary to get rid of her superfluous spirits through this
+      medium. She joined in her sister's little whoop at the completion of the
+      third &ldquo;lap&rdquo; of the table, and they both threw themselves breathless on the
+      sofa.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I knew it,&rdquo; said Susy between her gasps. &ldquo;I knew that I could not be
+      mistaken in believing 'Evelina' to be good&mdash;I knew that she would
+      make her way in the affections of her readers, and I was right&mdash;you
+      see I was right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You were right, dear Susy&mdash;quite right,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;I do not like
+      to be too sanguine, but I do believe, from the reports Eddy brought us,
+      that the book will find plenty of readers. Now that we can think over the
+      matter in a reasonable way, we must see how foolish we were to expect that
+      the very day after the book was published people would crowd to buy it;
+      but now, after six weeks, when Eddy goes in search of news about it, he
+      brings back a report which is&mdash;we had best say for the present no
+      more than 'quite satisfactory'&mdash;that was the bookseller's report
+      about the sales of the first volume of the padre's 'History'&mdash;'quite
+      satisfactory'&mdash;that should be quite satisfactory for the author of
+      'Evelina' and her sisters. There is nothing in the book to stir people as
+      it would if written by Mr. Wilkes, but in its humble way it will, I am now
+      persuaded, be pronounced 'quite satisfactory.' At any rate, there goes my
+      sewing for the evening.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She rolled up the strip of linen into a ball and used her hand, after two
+      false starts, as a battledore, to send it flying across the room within
+      reach of Susy, who, being more adroit, was able at the first attempt to
+      return it with both force and precision. Once more Fanny struck it, and
+      her sister sent it back, but by this time the unequal ball had opened out,
+      so that it was only by her foot that Fanny could deal with it effectively.
+      Then, daintily holding up their petticoats, the author of &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; and
+      Susy Burney played with the thing until once more they were panting and
+      laughing joyously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Perhaps Fanny had a faint inkling of the symbolism implied by this
+      treatment of the discarded needlework.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXI
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>UT little Miss
+      Burney had recovered all her primness on the evening when, a week later,
+      she accompanied her stepmother to partake of tea at the home of the
+      Barlowes in the Poultry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Young Mr. Barlowe had, for some time after his visit to St. Martin's
+      Street, brooded over his indiscretion in allowing his impulse at the
+      moment of saying good night to carry him away so that he pressed Miss
+      Burney's hand, looking into her eyes with an expression in his own of the
+      deepest sympathy&mdash;rather more than sympathy. He felt that he had been
+      unduly and indiscreetly hasty in his action. It had been purely impulsive.
+      He had by no means made up his mind that Miss Burney would make him a
+      satisfactory wife. His father and mother had, for a long time, thought
+      very highly of Mrs. Burney, looking on her as a most thrifty and excellent
+      manager of a household. She had shown herself to be all this and more when
+      her first husband was alive and they had visited her at Lynn; and she had
+      proved her capabilities in the same direction since she had married Dr.
+      Burney. Unfortunately, however, the virtues of a stepmother could not be
+      depended on to descend to the children of her husband's family, and it was
+      by no means certain that Miss Burney had made full use of her
+      opportunities of modelling herself upon her father's second wife.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      No, he had not quite made up his mind on this subject&mdash;the gravest
+      that had ever occupied his attention, and he remained sleepless for hours,
+      fearful that he had gone too far in that look and that squeeze. He had
+      heard of fathers and even brothers waiting upon young men who had acted
+      toward a daughter or a sister pretty much as he had in regard to Miss
+      Burney. He had rather a dread of being visited by Miss Burney's brother,
+      that young naval officer who had boasted of having been educated by a
+      murderer. Mr. Barlowe thought that a visit from such a young man would be
+      most undesirable, and for several days he went about his business with
+      great uneasiness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But when a week had gone by and neither father nor brother had waited upon
+      him, he began to review his position more indulgently than when he had
+      previously given it his consideration. He thought more hopefully of Miss
+      Burney as a wife. Perhaps she might have profited more largely than he had
+      thought by her daily intercourse with so capable a woman as Mrs. Burney.
+      At any rate, she was not musical, and that was something in her favour.
+      Then her stepmother had praised her needlework, and everyone knows that to
+      be a good sempstress is next to being a good housekeeper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He thought that on the whole she would do. Her brother, Lieutenant Burney,
+      would naturally spend most of his time at sea. That was a good thing.
+      Thomas felt that he should hesitate to make any change in his life that
+      involved a liability of frequent visits from a young man who had been
+      taught by a murderer. Who could tell what might happen in the case of such
+      a young man? As for Miss Burney herself, she was, quite apart from her
+      housewifely qualities, a most estimable young lady&mdash;modest and
+      retiring, as a young woman should be, and very beautiful. To be sure, he
+      had often heard that beauty was only skin deep, but even assuming that it
+      did not go any deeper, it had always been highly esteemed by men&mdash;none
+      of them seemed to wish it to be of any greater depth; and it was certain
+      that a man with a handsome wife was greatly envied&mdash;more so even than
+      a man who was married to a plain woman but a good housewife. Oh,
+      undoubtedly her beauty commended her to his most indulgent consideration.
+      He had no objection in the world to be widely envied, if only on account
+      of his wife's good looks. It never occurred to him that it might be that
+      some people would think very ordinary a face that seemed to one who was in
+      love with it extremely lovely. He preserved the precious privilege of a
+      man to raise up his own standard of beauty and expect all the rest of the
+      world to acknowledge its supremacy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yes, he thought that Miss Burney, beauty and all, would suit him, but
+      still he hesitated in making another call.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This was when Mr. Kendal had the honour of waiting upon Mrs. Burney, and
+      his visit only preceded by a day or two Mrs. Burney's call upon her old
+      friend, Mrs. Barlowe, in the Poultry; this interchange of courtesies being
+      speedily followed by an invitation for Mrs. Burney and a stepdaughter to
+      drink tea with the Barlowe family.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am taking you with me, Fanny, because you are the eldest and, as should
+      be, the most sensible of the household,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney, explaining&mdash;so
+      far as she thought wise&mdash;the invitation on the morning it was
+      received. &ldquo;There will be no music at Mrs. Barlowe's, I think, and so you
+      will have no distracting influence to prevent your forming a just opinion
+      of my old friends.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not mind in the least the absence of music for one night,&rdquo; said
+      Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sure of that,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;Goodness knows we have music
+      enough here during any day to last us over a whole week. The others could
+      not live without it, even if it were not your father's profession.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Without which none of us could live,&rdquo; remarked Fanny, who had no wish to
+      be forced into the position of the opponent of music in the household.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite right, my dear,&rdquo; acquiesced the elder lady. &ldquo;It is a precarious way
+      of making a living. To my mind there is nothing so satisfactory as a good
+      commercial business&mdash;a merchant with a shop at his back can afford to
+      laugh at all the world.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But he usually refrains,&rdquo; said Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;True; he looks at life with proper seriousness, and without levity. Great
+      fortunes are the result of serious attention to business. Levity leads to
+      poverty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Except in the case of Mr. Garrick and a few others.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Garrick is certainly an exception. But, then, you must remember that
+      he was a merchant before he became an actor, and his business habits never
+      left him. I have heard it said that he got more out of his company for the
+      salaries he paid than any theatre manager in Europe. But I did not come to
+      you to talk about Mr. Garrick. I only meant to say that I know you are an
+      observant girl. You do not merely glance at the surface of things, so I am
+      sure that you will perceive much to respect in all the members of Mrs.
+      Barlowe's family.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sure they are eminently&mdash;respectable, mamma; and I am glad that
+      you have chosen me to be your companion this evening. I like going among
+      such people&mdash;it is useful.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She stopped short in a way that should have aroused the suspicions of Mrs.
+      Burney, but that lady was unsuspecting, she was only puzzled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Useful?&rdquo; she said interrogatively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny had no mind to explain that she thought herself rather good at
+      describing people of the Barlowe type, and was ready to submit herself to
+      more experience of them in case she might be encouraged to write another
+      novel. But she knew that she would have some difficulty in explaining this
+      to her stepmother, who herself was an excellent type.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Useful&mdash;perhaps I should rather have said 'instructive,'&rdquo; she
+      replied, after a little pause.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Instructive, yes; I am glad that you look at our visit so sensibly&mdash;I
+      knew you would do so. Yes, you should learn much of the excellence of
+      these people even in the short time that we shall be with them. And it is
+      well that you should remember, my dear Fanny, that you are now quite old
+      enough to have a house of your own to look after.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was now Fanny's turn to seem puzzled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not quite see how&mdash;I mean why&mdash;why&mdash;that is, the
+      connection&mdash;is there any connection between&mdash;&mdash;?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What I mean to say is that if at some time a suitor for your hand should
+      appear, belonging to a respectable mercantile family, you will know,
+      without the need of any telling, that your chances of happiness with such
+      a man are far greater than they would be were you to wed someone whose
+      means of getting a living were solely the practice of some of the arts, as
+      they are called&mdash;music or painting or the rest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not doubt that, mamma,&rdquo; said Fanny demurely. She was beginning to
+      think that her stepmother was a far better type than she had fancied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And her stepmother was beginning to think that she had never given Fanny
+      credit for all the good sense she possessed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The six o'clock tea-party in the Poultry was a function that Fanny
+      Burney's quick pen only could describe as it deserved to be described. All
+      the time that it was proceeding her fingers were itching to start on it.
+      She could see Mr. Crisp smiling in that appreciative way that he had, as
+      he read her smart sentences, every one of them with its little acid
+      flavour, that remained on the palate of his memory. She was an artist in
+      character drawing, and she was one of the first to perceive how excellent
+      was the material for artistic treatment that might be found in the house
+      of the English tradesman&mdash;the superior tradesman who aspired to be
+      called a merchant. She neglected no opportunity of observing such houses;
+      it was only when she was daily consorting with people of the highest rank
+      that she became alarmed lest her descriptions should be accepted as proof
+      that she was in the habit of meeting on terms of intimacy the types of
+      English bourgeois which she had drawn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The ground-floor of Mr. Barlowe's house in the Poultry was given over to
+      his business, which, as has already been mentioned, was that of a vendor
+      of gold and silver lace. The walls carried shelves from floor to ceiling,
+      and every shelf had its line of boxes enclosing samples of an abundant and
+      valuable stock. The large room at the back was a sort of counting-house
+      parlour, where Mr. Barlowe sat during the day with his son and an elderly
+      clerk, ready for the customers, whose arrival was announced by the ringing
+      of a spring.-bell. The scales for the weighing of the bullion and the
+      worked gold and silver wire were suspended above, the broad counter in the
+      shop, and from a hook between the shelves there hung a number of ruled
+      forms with spaces for oz., dwt. and grs. On these were entered the
+      particulars of the material supplied to the workmen who made up the lace
+      as required. The upper part of the house was the home of the family, the
+      spacious dining-room being in the front, its convex windows overhanging
+      the busy thoroughfare. Opening off this apartment was an equally large
+      drawingroom, and the furniture of both was of walnut made in the reign of
+      Queen Anne, with an occasional piece of Dutch marqueterie of the heavier
+      character favoured by the craftsmen of the previous sovereigns. The rooms
+      themselves were panelled with oak and lighted by candles in brass sconces.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It seemed to Fanny, on entering the diningroom, that every seat was
+      occupied. But she soon saw that there were several vacant chairs. It was
+      the imposing row of figures confronting her that made the room seem full,
+      although only six persons were present besides young Mr. Barlowe and his
+      parents, who met Mrs. Burney and her stepdaughter at the door. Fanny
+      greeted Thomas at once, and she could see that his eyes were beaming, but
+      with a rather more subdued light than shone in them on that night when he
+      had pressed her hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was conscious, at the same time, of the approach of a big elderly
+      gentleman, wearing a well-ordered wig, evidently newly curled, with a
+      small lady clad in expensive and expansive black silk by his side. He was
+      holding the tips of her fingers and they advanced in step as though they
+      were starting to dance a minuet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They stood in front of her and her mother, while Thomas, moving to one
+      side, said, making a low bow:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Burney, I have the honour to present to you my father, Mr. Barlowe,
+      and my mother, Mrs. Barlowe. Mrs. Burney, madam, you are, I know, already
+      acquainted with my parents.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The little lady curtsied and her husband made a fine shopkeeper's bow,
+      first to Fanny, then to Mrs. Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The formality of the presentation was overwhelming to poor Fanny. She
+      could feel herself blushing, and she certainly was more overcome than she
+      had been when Count Orloff, the Russian, visited the house in St. Martin's
+      Street and she gazed with awe upon the thumb that had, it was rumoured,
+      pressed too rigidly the wind-pipe of the unfortunate Peter. All that she
+      could do was to try to hide her confusion by the deepest of curtsies.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We are sensible of the honour you have done us, madam,&rdquo; said Mr. Barlowe
+      when he had recovered himself&mdash;he was addressing Fanny, ignoring for
+      the moment the presence of Mrs. Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Our son has spoken to us of you with great admiration, Miss Burney,&rdquo; said
+      the little lady. &ldquo;But I protest that when I look at you I feel as King
+      Solomon did when he saw the Queen of Sheba, the half has not been told.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, madam, you flatter me,&rdquo; said Fanny, trying to put some force into a
+      voice that her shyness had rendered scarcely audible.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her stepmother, perceiving how she was suffering, hastened to greet in a
+      much less formal way their host and hostess; but she had considerable
+      difficulty in bringing them down to her level. It seemed that they had
+      prepared some high phrases of welcome for their younger visitor only, and
+      they had no mind that they should be wasted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My stepdaughter is of a retiring nature,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;She is quite
+      unused to such ceremony as you honour her with. Well, Martha, how is the
+      rheumatism?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXII
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>RS. BARLOWE did
+      not seem half pleased to be brought down so from the high parallels of
+      etiquette among which she had been soaring. But she had lost her place,
+      and before she could recover herself, Fanny had slipped behind her
+      stepmother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ask me all about her rheumatism, madam, for 'tis me that knows more about
+      it than her,&rdquo; said Mr. Barlowe, with a jerk of his thumb and a wink in the
+      direction of his wife. The homely enquiry of Mrs. Burney had clearly
+      forced him to throw off all ceremony and treat the visit of Miss Burney as
+      an ordinary domestic incident.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His wife would have none of this, however; she said in tones of stiff
+      reproof:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Barlowe, you forget that the young lady has not been presented to
+      Brother Jonathan or the Alderman. Thomas, it is for you to usher the lady
+      into the presence of your uncles and aunts. Pray be not remiss, Thomas.
+      There is no excuse for such an omission.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was only waiting until you had finished, ma'am,&rdquo; said Thomas.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have finished,&rdquo; she replied, with a stiff nod. &ldquo;To be sure, 'twas my
+      intention to express, in what I trust would be appropriate terms, our
+      happiness in welcoming Miss Burney to our humble home; a few phrases of
+      this sort were not thought out of place when I was young; but it appears
+      that your father knows better what is <i>comme il faut</i> and <i>haut ton</i>
+      than me. Bring the young lady forward, Thomas.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The younger Thomas looked dubiously from his mother to his father. He was
+      uncommonly like an actor who had forgotten his part, Fanny thought&mdash;he
+      had no initiative. Fanny herself was more at home than any of the
+      household. While the young man hesitated, she walked up the room as if she
+      meant to present herself to the six figures that sat in a row at the
+      farther end.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thomas was beside her in a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I ask your pardon, Miss Burney,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;But I knew that mamma had at
+      least two more welcomes for your ear, and I feared that she had forgot
+      them. Do not you think that mamma speaks well? Perhaps it would be unjust
+      to judge her by what she said&mdash;she only made a beginning. You will be
+      delighted when you are going away.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny felt that this prediction was certain to be realized.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, mamma's good-byes are as well worded as her greetings,&rdquo; he
+      continued; &ldquo;a clergyman could scarcely better them; and I hope&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But now they were face to face with the six figures sitting in a row, and
+      as his conversation was only designed as an accompaniment to the march of
+      Fanny to this position, there was no reason to continue it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The figures were of two men and four ladies. The former were middle-aged
+      and bore an expression of gravity that a judge might have envied. Their
+      dress was sombre, but of the finest material possible to buy, and each of
+      them was painfully conscious of being in unusual garments. Of course,
+      Fanny saw in a moment that they were merchants wearing the garments in
+      which they attended church.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Of the four ladies, three were elderly and the fourth much younger. They
+      wore their hair built up in a way that suggested that they desired to
+      follow the fashion but had not the courage to complete the scheme with
+      which they had started. The long and thin and highly-coloured feathers
+      which crowned the stunted structures on their heads gave them the
+      appearance of a picture of unfamiliar birds. Their dresses were extremely
+      glossy and of an expensive material, but there was an eccentric note about
+      all that made them seem not impressive as they should have been, but
+      almost ludicrous. The youngest lady in the row showed unmistakable signs
+      of being given to simpering. She had gone much further than the others of
+      the party in the architecture of her hair, but that was possibly because
+      the material at her command was more abundant. The dressing of her hair,
+      however, was by no means in sympathy with the style of her garments, the
+      latter being simple and indeed rather too girlish for the wearer, who
+      looked between twenty-five and thirty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was an extraordinary ordeal that confronted Miss Burney, for young Mr.
+      Barlowe began presenting her to the group, starting from his left and
+      working slowly to the last of the row on the right. There was she with the
+      young man standing close to her, but sideways, doing the formalities of
+      presenting her, while his father and mother stood behind to see that he
+      omitted nothing. Mrs. Burney, a little way apart, was alternately smiling
+      and frowning at the ceremonial. She could see, from observing the effect
+      that the whole business was producing upon Fanny, that the Barlowes were
+      defeating their own ends, assuming that they desired Fanny to become a
+      member of their family. These absurd formalities were, Mrs. Burney knew,
+      quite out of place in a private house. But what could she do to cut them
+      short? She had made an attempt before, and it was received in anything but
+      a friendly spirit by their hostess, so that she did not feel inclined to
+      interfere again: the thing must run its course, she felt, reflecting upon
+      it as though it were a malady. There was no means of curtailing it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And its course was a slow one for the unhappy victim.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Burney, I have the honour to present my aunt on my mother's side&mdash;Mrs.
+      Alderman Kensit,&rdquo; droned Thomas, and the lady on the extreme left rose at
+      the mention of her name and made a carefully prepared curtsey, while the
+      sky-blue feather in her hair jerked awkwardly forward until the end almost
+      touched her nose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Proud to meet Miss Burney, I vow,&rdquo; said she as she rose; and anyone could
+      see from the expression on her face that she was satisfied that she had
+      gone far in proving her claim to be looked on as a lady of fashion. She
+      had never said &ldquo;I vow&rdquo; before, and she knew that it had startled her
+      relations. She felt that she could not help that. Miss Burney would
+      understand that she was face to face with someone who had mingled with the
+      best.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And this is Aunt Maria, father's sister, Mrs. Hutchings,&rdquo; came the voice
+      of Thomas, and the second lady bobbed up with quivering feathers and made
+      a well-practised curtsey. She did not trust herself to speak. Having heard
+      her neighbour's &ldquo;I vow,&rdquo; she knew that she could not go farther. She would
+      not compete with such an exponent of the mysteries of <i>haut ton</i>.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And this is Alderman Kensit of the Common Council; he is my uncle on my
+      mother's side&mdash;mother is a Kensit, you know,&rdquo; resumed Thomas. &ldquo;And
+      this is Aunt Jelicoe. My mother's sister married Mr. Jelicoe, of Tooley
+      Street. And this is my cousin, Miss Jelicoe. I am sure that you will like
+      Miss Jelicoe, Miss Burney, she is so young.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The youngest lady of the group simpered with great shyness, concealing
+      half her face with her fan and holding her head to one side, and then
+      pretending to be terribly fluttered. Her curtsey was made in a flurry, and
+      with a little exclamation of &ldquo;Oh, la!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Another uncle only remained to be presented; he turned out to be Mr.
+      Jonathan Barlowe, and he was, Thomas whispered half audibly to Fanny, in
+      trade in the Indies.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was all over, curtsies and bows and exclamations&mdash;echoes of the
+      world of fashion and elsewhere&mdash;she had been presented to every
+      member of the row and they had resumed their seats, while she hastened to
+      the side of her stepmother, hot and breathless. She had never before been
+      subjected to such an ordeal. She had gladly agreed to accompany her
+      stepmother to this house, for she hoped thereby to increase her
+      observation of a class of people who repaid her study of them; but she had
+      no notion that she should have to vacate her place as an Observer and take
+      up that of a Participator. She was to pay dearly for her experience.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was burning, her stepmother could see; and she believed that this was
+      due to her mortification on noticing that the dress of the ladies was
+      infinitely more expensive than hers. That would be enough to make any
+      young woman with ordinary susceptibilities indignant, she felt; and she
+      herself, having had an opportunity of giving some attention to the
+      expensive silks&mdash;she could appraise their value to a penny&mdash;was
+      conscious of some chagrin on this account. She was almost out of patience
+      with her old friend, Martha Barlowe, for making all this parade. The
+      foolish woman had done so, she knew, in order to impress Miss Burney and
+      to give her to understand that she was becoming associated with no
+      ordinary family. But Mrs. Burney had seen enough since she had left Lynn
+      for London to know that Fanny would not be the least impressed except in
+      the direction of boredom by such an excess of ceremony in the house of a
+      tradesman. She had heard Fanny's comment upon the gorgeous chariot which
+      Sir Joshua Reynolds had set up, and she could not doubt what Fanny's
+      opinion would be regarding this simple tea to which she had consented to
+      go at the Barlowes' house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny had hurried to her side as soon as she had passed the row of uncles
+      and aunts. She thought that the girl seemed overcome by the tedium of the
+      formalities; but in a few minutes she saw that Fanny was on the verge of
+      laughter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Burney could not say whether she would rather that her charge became
+      moody or hilarious.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eight separate curtsies,&rdquo; murmured Fanny. &ldquo;If there are to be the same
+      number going away we should begin at once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Burney thought it better not to reprove her for her flippancy just at
+      that moment. She condoned it with a smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Only a minute were the Burneys left to themselves. Mr. Barlowe, the elder,
+      walked solemnly up to them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Going on nicely, eh?&rdquo; he said in a confidential way to Mrs. Burney.
+      &ldquo;Everything being done decently and in order, madam. There has been no
+      cause of offence up to the present, though there are three persons in that
+      row who are as ready to see an offence where none is meant as a bunch of
+      flax to break into flame when a spark falls on it. The young lady is
+      discreet; if she had spoken to any one of them and not to the others,
+      there would have been a flare-up. The touchy ones belong to my wife's
+      family. She was a Kensit, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He made this explanation behind his hand and in a whisper; he saw that his
+      wife and son had been in earnest consultation together over some vexed
+      question, and now they were hovering about, waiting to catch his eye.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I spoke too soon,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Something has gone astray, and the blame
+      will fall on me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They hovered still nearer, and when he caught his eye, Thomas, the
+      younger, stepped up to his father, saying something in his ear. Mrs.
+      Barlowe went on hovering a yard or two away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That would never do,&rdquo; said her husband, evidently in reply to some
+      remonstrance offered by young Thomas. &ldquo;Never. The whole of the Kensits
+      would take offence.&rdquo; Then he turned again to Mrs. Burney, saying:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mrs. Burney, madam, my son has just reminded me that I have been remiss
+      in doing my duty. It was left to me to present you to our relations at the
+      head of the room, but I failed to do so, my mind being too full of the
+      pretty curtsies of Miss. But I am ready to make amends now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But Mrs. Burney had observed a little twinkle in Fanny's eye; she had no
+      notion of going through the ordeal to which Fanny had been subjected,
+      though the spectacle would doubtless have diverted Fanny hugely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, sir,&rdquo; she said quickly to the waiting gentleman, &ldquo;Nay, sir; you have
+      forgotten that the presentation of a lady's daughter is equivalent to the
+      presentation of the lady herself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, is that so?&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rest assured that it is,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;and an excellent rule it is. It
+      saves a repetition of a formality that is now frequently omitted in the
+      private houses of simple folk like ourselves. Lend me your arm, sir. I
+      shall soon make myself at home with Martha's relations.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She did not give him a chance of discussing the point with her; she saw
+      that he was about to state his objections to the rule she had invented for
+      her own saving, and she was already in advance of him in approaching the
+      row of figures on the chairs against the wall. Fanny heard her greeting
+      them in turn without any formality, and once again Thomas, the younger,
+      was by her side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His mother was still hovering, glancing suspiciously, first at the young
+      couple, and then at the hasty proceedings of her friend, Mrs. Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was unlike father to make so grave an omission, Miss Burney,&rdquo; he said,
+      apologetically.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope that no harm will come of it,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;I am afraid that you
+      found us very homely folk at our little house when you did us the honour
+      of visiting us,&rdquo; she added.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He waved his hand indulgently, smiling over her head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am always ready to take my place in such a circle,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;though
+      all the time I have a pretty full knowledge of the exchange of courtesies
+      which should mark the introduction of a stranger. Oh, yes, I do not mind
+      meeting some people as an equal, if they do not presume upon me
+      afterwards. Your brother has gone back to sea, I hear?&rdquo; he added.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, we shall not see him again for two years,&rdquo; she replied. &ldquo;Did he
+      presume upon you, sir? If so, I will take it upon me to offer you a humble
+      apology.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was considering if it might be possible that he was himself mistaken in
+      regard to the ear-trumpet,&rdquo; said Thomas.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sir Joshua's ear-trumpet? What of that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lieutenant Burney told me that it was a newly invented musical
+      instrument, blown by the ear instead of the mouth. It was not until I had
+      spoken of it to my father that I learned that the instrument was an
+      ear-trumpet used by the deaf. I had never seen one before. I wonder if
+      your brother intentionally deceived me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My brother is an officer in His Majesty's Fleet, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What does that mean, miss?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It means that he would resent an accusation of falsehood, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pray do not misunderstand me; I would shrink from accusing him of any
+      conduct unworthy of an officer and a gentleman. But I was certainly
+      deceived in fancying that the ear-trumpet was a musical instrument.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny made no reply. Her attention was directed to the entrance of two
+      servants, one bearing a large urn, the other a dish on which lay an
+      immense ham.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope you have an appetite, Miss Burney,&rdquo; said young Thomas. &ldquo;If so, you
+      will be able to stay it at that table, I'll warrant. Tea and cake may be
+      well enough for such as dine at four, but for us, who are three hours
+      earlier, something more substantial is needed. You will find that there is
+      no stint in this house.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny had an idea that the young man meant to suggest that she would find
+      the tea-table at the Poultry to make a striking contrast to that of St.
+      Martin's Street; and she was not mistaken.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Neither was he. A greater contrast could scarcely be imagined. When Fanny
+      was formally conducted to a seat at the table by the side of young Mr.
+      Barlowe, she found herself confronting such a variety of eatables as was
+      absolutely bewildering. The first glance that she had at the dishes had a
+      stunning effect upon her. Her impression was one of repletion; she felt
+      that that glance was by itself equivalent to a hearty meal&mdash;a heavy
+      meal. She felt inclined to turn her head away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But a moment afterwards she became alert. Here was food&mdash;ample food
+      for an amusing letter to Mr. Crisp, and, later, for a chapter in a
+      possible novel. She would let nothing escape her notice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She settled down to observe everything; and her stepmother, sitting
+      opposite to her, knew from the twinkle in her eyes, that Thomas's suit was
+      hopeless. She had heard that music is the food of love. She was not sure
+      of this; but she was convinced that butcher's meat was not. That was where
+      she saw that Thomas had made his mistake. He had placed too much
+      dependence upon that great ham. He carved that ham with all the solemnity
+      that should accompany such a rite, not knowing that he was slicing away
+      all his chances of commending himself to Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXIII
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T was an
+      interesting experience for Miss Burney, the writer of novels and the
+      writer of letters. She had never sat down with such a company. They all
+      had their table peculiarities. One uncle took ale for his tea, and drained
+      a tankard before eating anything. The other claimed a particular cup on
+      account of its capacity, and he held it to his mouth with one hand, while
+      he passed a second down the table to Miss Burney, only spilling a spoonful
+      or two in effecting the transit. One of the aunts refused to eat anything
+      except cake, explaining, in order to relieve the anxiety of the company,
+      the details of an acute attack of spleen from which she had recently
+      suffered. The spleen and its humours formed the subject of a fitful
+      conversation at her end of the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But it was plain that everyone understood that the company had not come to
+      the table for conversation, but for food. They did not converse, but that
+      was not the same as saying the room was silent. There was a constant
+      clanging of cups, a constant clatter of platters, a loud and insistent
+      demand on the part of Thomas, the elder, and Thomas, the younger, for
+      their guests to say what they would like to eat. This was followed by the
+      handing of plates up and down the table, the sound of steel knives being
+      sharpened, and the jingle of spoons in saucers. The Alderman, who was, of
+      course, an authority on the etiquette of banquets, was formulating an
+      elaborate explanation of the mistake that had been made in the service of
+      the cold sirloin in advance of the venison pasty; and all the time his
+      neighbour was striking the haft of his knife upon the table with a request
+      for someone to pass him the pickles.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All the ceremonial veneer had plainly left the company the moment they
+      seated themselves, and they addressed themselves to the business of
+      feeding. They had healthy appetites&mdash;even the lady who had had a
+      recent attack of the spleen. She would eat nothing but cake, but she did
+      eat cake with confidence. There was no sort of cake that she did not try,
+      and her cup was kept in constant circulation from the tea-maker to herself&mdash;four
+      times she had it refilled, Fanny could not help noticing, and she wondered
+      what effect such a diet would have upon her capricious spleen. Fanny had
+      an inward hint or two that she had observed quite enough of the party to
+      serve her purpose, and she began to count the moments until she might be
+      able to steal away without offending the susceptibilities of her
+      over-hospitable host and hostess. She hoped that her stepmother would
+      listen to her plea of weariness and take her back to St. Martin's Street&mdash;to
+      the music of St. Martin's Street&mdash;to the quiet of St. Martin's
+      Street.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The most solid hour of her life had, however, to elapse before her
+      fellow-guests pushed their plates (empty) away from them, and Mrs. Barlowe
+      said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid you have made a poor tea, Miss Burney; but if you cannot be
+      persuaded to have a slice of ham&mdash;my son's ham, I call it, for 'tis
+      he who picks it out of the curer's stock whenever we have a party&mdash;if
+      you still refuse it, we might go to the drawing-room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny was on her feet in an instant. But not sooner than Alderman Kensit.
+      That gentleman, rapping with the haft of his knife on the table, stood
+      with a sheaf of notes in his hand and clearing his throat with great
+      deliberation, started upon a speech in eulogy of Mr. Barlowe's merits as a
+      host and as a merchant, and droned away for a good half-hour in praise of
+      the virtue of hospitality, his text being on the possibility of
+      entertaining angels unawares. Of course, it was only natural that, having
+      got upon this track and with the word &ldquo;angels&rdquo; in his mind, he should go
+      on to say that it was quite possible for a hospitably-inclined person to
+      entertain an angel and be fully cognizant of the fact, and so forth: in a
+      speech of well-worn platitudes such a suggestion seemed inevitable; and
+      all eyes were directed to poor Fanny when it seemed impending. It was a
+      great disappointment to everybody&mdash;except Fanny and her stepmother&mdash;when
+      the orator skipped the expected phrases, and went on to describe a
+      business visit which he had once made to Spain, apropos of nothing in
+      particular. His account of this feat was familiar to all his relations,
+      but they listened to him without a murmur, only wondering when he would
+      come to the angel and Miss Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He never came to the angel and Miss Burney, for it so happened that he had
+      turned over two pages of his notes when he should have only turned over
+      one. The omitted platitude was on the first, and he failed to notice the
+      absence of a platitudinal sequence in the heads of his discourse which he
+      had jotted down during the day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When he had seated himself, Mr. Barlowe, the elder, got upon his feet, but
+      he had no notes, and not being a member of the Common Council, he was not
+      a past-master of commonplaces. He was only dull for about five minutes
+      instead of half an hour. He had risen with a view to repair his relative's
+      omission of that obvious point about entertaining an angel by appointment
+      in the shape of Miss Burney, but he lost himself before he managed to
+      deliver it; it swam out of his ken with several other points the moment he
+      got upon his legs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fully recognizing how narrow was the escape she had had, Fanny was
+      resolved not to run any further chances. She was looking imploringly
+      toward Mrs. Burney, trying to catch that lady's eye, but without success,
+      and she was about to walk round the table to her side and to beg her to
+      come away, when Mrs. Barlowe moved up to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Burney,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I am afraid you did not get anything you liked
+      at the table: I saw that you scarce ate more than a morsel of cake.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I assure you, madam, I had enough,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;Your cake was so tasty I
+      had no mind to go away from it in search of other delicacies.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am glad you liked it. I made it with my own hands,&rdquo; said the hostess.
+      &ldquo;That cake was ever a favourite with Mr. Barlowe and my son. It pleases me
+      to know that you and my son have tastes in common. He is a good son, is
+      Thomas, though I say it that shouldn't; and he is making his way to the
+      front by treading in his father's footsteps. Mr. Barlowe is not a Common
+      Councilman, but his father, Thomas's grandfather, was for a year
+      Deputy-Master of the Wyre Drawers' Company&mdash;his certificate still
+      hangs on the wall of the drawing-room. You must see it. Thomas, you will
+      show Miss Burney your grandfather's certificate as Deputy-Master.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should like very much to see it,&rdquo; said Fanny quickly, &ldquo;but I fear that
+      mamma will wish me to accompany her home at once. My sisters are alone
+      to-night and they will feel lonely: we promised to return early.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will get Mrs. Burney's permission for you&mdash;so good an opportunity
+      should not be thrown away,&rdquo; said Mrs. Barlowe, giving the latter part of
+      her sentence an unmistakable inflection as she looked toward her son and
+      smiled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had gone round the table before Fanny could think of another excuse
+      for evading the visit to the drawing-room in the company of Mr. Barlowe,
+      the younger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And Mr. Barlowe, the younger, was still by her side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Doesn't Uncle Kensit make a fine speech?&rdquo; he inquired. &ldquo;He is always
+      ready. I have heard it said that he speaks longer than any Alderman in the
+      Council.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can quite believe it,&rdquo; replied Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tis a wonderful gift,&rdquo; said he&mdash;&ldquo;to be always ready to say what one
+      is expected to say. Though I did think that when he referred to the angels
+      he meant to&mdash;to&mdash;go farther&mdash;I mean nearer-nearer home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Thomas might himself have gone farther had his mother not returned at that
+      moment from her diplomatic errand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have prevailed upon Mrs. Burney to let you stay to see the
+      certificate,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;Thomas, you will conduct Miss Burney to the
+      drawing-room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sure that mamma would wish to see the certificate also,&rdquo; said Fanny.
+      &ldquo;I will ask her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is no need, Miss Burney: we shall all join you later,&rdquo; said Mrs.
+      Barlowe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Poor Fanny saw that there was no use trying to evade the attentions of
+      Thomas, and as she walked toward the folding doors by his side she was
+      conscious of a silence in the room and of all eyes being turned upon her&mdash;smiles&mdash;such
+      knowing smiles&mdash;and a smirk from the young lady. Fanny was aware of
+      all, and what she was too short-sighted to see she was able to imagine.
+      She was burning at the thought of all those people gazing at her in
+      silence. It was the most trying moment of her life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She passed through the door which Thomas opened for her and closed behind
+      her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am glad to have this opportunity, Miss Burney,&rdquo; said he, when they were
+      alone in the big half-lighted room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must hold your grandfather's certificate in high esteem, sir,&rdquo; said
+      she. &ldquo;I suppose so high a place as he reached is but rarely attained by
+      mortals. You will have to guide me to the document: I have very poor
+      eyesight, as you must have noticed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a great drawback,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;But we will not talk about
+      grandfather's certificate just yet, if you please: I have something to say
+      to you that will, I hope, interest you even more than that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You surprise me, sir,&rdquo; said Fanny icily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, I hope that you know me well enough not to be surprised by all that
+      I have to reveal to you now that the opportunity has been given to me.
+      Have you no inkling of what I am about to say, Miss Burney?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not the least, sir. I expected only to see that relic of your
+      grandfather's honourable career.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, after meeting Uncle Kensit and Aunt Jelicoe, you do not feel
+      interested in their families?&rdquo; said he, in a tone of genuine surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny looked at him before she spoke, and there certainly was more than a
+      note of casual interest in her voice as she said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Their families? Oh, I should like above all things to hear about their
+      families.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I knew that you would,&rdquo; said he, apparently much relieved. (She wondered
+      if the relief that she felt was as apparent as his.) &ldquo;Yes, I felt certain
+      that you would welcome this opportunity of learning something about the
+      Kensits and the Jelicoes. They are remarkable people, as you cannot have
+      failed to perceive.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He made a pause&mdash;-a pause that somehow had an interrogative tendency.
+      She felt that he meant it to be filled up by her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are remarkable people&mdash;very remarkable,&rdquo; said she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We are very fortunate in all our relations, Miss Burney,&rdquo; said he with
+      great solemnity. &ldquo;But, of course, Uncle Kensit stands high above them all
+      in force of character. A great man indeed is Alderman Kensit&mdash;a
+      member of the Haberdashers' and Grocers' Companies as well as the City
+      Council, and yet quite ready to meet ordinary persons as fellow-men. He
+      had heard the name of your friend, Sir Joshua Reynolds, though not the
+      name of Dr. Burney, and he was kind enough to say that he would have no
+      objection in the world to meet either of these gentlemen. That shows you
+      what sort of man he is&mdash;his fine, simple nature. 'If Dr. Burney or
+      Sir Joshua Reynolds were duly presented to me, I should feel it my duty to
+      be civil to him '&mdash;those were his exact words.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Once more there was an interrogative pause.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps they may be fortunate enough to meet him some day,&rdquo; was all Fanny
+      could trust herself to say.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I would not say so much to them&mdash;he is very busy just now,&rdquo; said
+      Thomas hastily. &ldquo;It would have to be arranged with care and thought&mdash;I
+      would not like them to be disappointed. But if it would please you, I
+      daresay a meeting could be brought about; meantime, I would not raise up
+      any false hopes on the matter, if I were you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may depend on my preserving the strictest secrecy, Mr. Barlowe,&rdquo; said
+      Fanny. &ldquo;I should think that I might even discipline myself to forget that
+      such a person as Alderman Kensit existed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That would perhaps be the safest course to pursue,&rdquo; said he thoughtfully,
+      and with an air of prudence that made him for the moment the subject of a
+      description after Fanny's own heart. She felt that she could fool this
+      young man as easily as her brother had fooled him. Surely he was made to
+      be fooled, with his solemn airs and his incapacity to distinguish what is
+      worthy from what is pompous.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she continued, &ldquo;Dr. Burney has had it intimated to him since the
+      publication of his 'History' that the King was desirous of talking to him
+      at Windsor, and I know that Sir Joshua is being visited daily by the
+      Duchess of Devonshire and the Duchess of Ancaster, and it would be a great
+      pity if my father were forced to write excusing himself to His Majesty on
+      account of having to meet Alderman&mdash;Alderman&mdash;I protest that I
+      have already forgotten the gentleman's name&mdash;nay, do not tell it to
+      me; I might be tempted to boast of having met him, and if I did so in Sir
+      Joshua's presence, his beautiful Duchesses would be forlorn when they
+      found that he had hurried away on the chance of meeting the Alderman. And
+      now, sir, I think that I shall return to Mrs. Burney.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I have not told you half of what I can tell about our family,&rdquo; he
+      cried. &ldquo;I have said nothing about my aunts&mdash;I have four aunts and
+      eleven cousins. You would surely like to hear of my cousins. They do not
+      all live in London. I have three as far away as Lewes; their name is
+      Johnson. My mother's youngest sister married a Johnson, as you may have
+      heard. I believe that some objection was raised to the match at first, but
+      it turned out quite satisfactory.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is pleasant to know that; and so, sir, as we have come to this point,
+      don't you think that we had better adjourn our conference?&rdquo; said Fanny.
+      &ldquo;It would be doing the Johnson family a grave injustice were you to
+      attempt to describe their virtues within the time that is left to us, and
+      that would be the greatest catastrophe of all. Besides, I came hither all
+      unprepared for these revelations. If you had hinted at what was in store
+      for me I would, of course, have disciplined myself&mdash;forewarned is
+      forearmed, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Burney had received many a lesson from Mr. Garrick, from the days
+      when he had come to entertain her in the nursery, in the art of fooling,
+      and she was now quite capable of holding her own when she found herself in
+      the presence of so foolable a person as this egregious young man. But the
+      game was apt to become wearisome at the close of an evening when she had
+      suffered much, and when the subject of her raillery had shown himself to
+      be incapable even of suspecting her of practising on him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But there is Aunt Jelicoe; I should like to tell you something of Aunt
+      Jelicoe,&rdquo; pleaded Thomas. &ldquo;Without any of the advantages of her parents,
+      Aunt Jelicoe&mdash;and&mdash;oh, I have something more to say to you&mdash;not
+      about them&mdash;about ourselves&mdash;you and me&mdash;I was nearly
+      forgetting&mdash;you will stay&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One cannot remember everything, Mr. Barlowe,&rdquo; said Fanny, with her hand
+      on the knob of the door. &ldquo;You have done very well, I think, in remembering
+      so much as you have told me. As for ourselves&mdash;you have quite
+      convinced me of my own insignificance&mdash;and yours also, sir. You would
+      be doing us a grave injustice were you to speak of us so soon after your
+      estimable relations.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps you are right,&rdquo; said he, after a few moments of frowning thought.
+      &ldquo;Yes. I see now that it might have been wiser if I had begun with
+      ourselves and then&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny had turned the handle. She re-entered the dining-room, and the
+      moment that she appeared silence fell upon the company, and once again she
+      was conscious of many eyes gazing at her and of horrid smiles and a smirk.
+      That was another ordeal for the shy little Miss Burney&mdash;it was an
+      evening of ordeals.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She walked straight across the room to her stepmother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am ready to go away now,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;We have never stayed at any house
+      so long when we only came for tea. I am tired to death.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She took care, of course, that Mrs. Burney only should hear her; and Mrs.
+      Burney, being well aware that Fanny was not one to complain unless with
+      ample cause, charitably interposed between her and Mrs. Barlowe, whom she
+      saw bearing down upon her from the other side of the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fanny and I will say our good-night to you now, my dear Martha,&rdquo; she
+      said. &ldquo;You have treated us far too kindly. That must be our excuse for
+      staying so long. When people drop in to tea they do not, as a rule, stop
+      longer than an hour, as you know. But you overwhelmed us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was hoping&mdash;&rdquo; began Mrs. Barlowe, trying to get on to Fanny, but
+      by the adroitness of Mrs. Burney, not succeeding. &ldquo;I was hoping&mdash;you
+      know what I was hoping&mdash;we were all hoping&mdash;expecting&mdash;they
+      were in the drawing-room long enough.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Burney gave her a confidential look, which she seemed to interpret
+      easily enough. She replied by a confidential nod&mdash;the nod of one who
+      understands a signal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mum it shall be, then,&rdquo; she whispered. &ldquo;Not a word will come from me,
+      simply good-night; but we could all have wished&mdash;never mind, Thomas
+      will tell us all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Burney allowed her to pass on to Fanny, having obtained her promise
+      not to bother the girl&mdash;that was how Mrs. Burney framed the promise
+      in her own mind&mdash;and Mrs. Barlowe kept faith with her, and even
+      persuaded Alderman Kensit, who was approaching them slowly with a sheaf of
+      notes in his hand, to defer their delivery in the form of a speech until
+      the young woman had gone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And thus the visitors from St. Martin's Street were able to escape going
+      through the formality of taking leave of all the party. They shook hands
+      only with their host and hostess and their son, curtseying very politely
+      to the company of relations.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are warm-hearted people, but their weakness for ceremony and the
+      like is foolish enough,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney to Fanny, when they were safe
+      within the hackney carriage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, indeed, there is no harm in any of them,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;They may be a
+      little foolish in thinking that the Poultry is St. James's Palace or
+      Buckingham House. The only one among them who is an arrant fool is the
+      son. You saw how his mother made it up that he should lead me into the
+      other room?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was maladroitly done indeed. What had he to say to you when he got you
+      there, I wonder?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He had nothing to say to me except that his uncles were second in all the
+      virtues and all the talents to no man in town, and that his aunts and
+      cousins&mdash;but he did not get so far in his praise of his aunts and
+      cousins; I fled. Oh, did you see him cut slices off the ham?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny laughed quite pleasantly, with a consciousness of having at her
+      command the material on which to found a scene that would set her sisters
+      shrieking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, if Mr. Garrick had but seen him carve that ham!&rdquo; she cried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish that Mr. Garrick would give all his attention to his own affairs
+      and leave us to manage ours in our own way,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What? Why, what had Mr. Garrick to do with our visit to&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Twas Mr. Garrick who continued his fooling of Mr. Kendal, sending him
+      all over the town trying to make matches. He believes that he is under a
+      debt of gratitude to Mr. Garrick and your father for the happiness he
+      enjoys with his bride.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And he suggested that a match might be made between someone in St.
+      Martins Street and someone in the Poultry? But how does Mr. Kendal come to
+      be acquainted with the Barlowes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;His wife was a Johnson before she married her first husband, and the
+      Johnsons are closely connected with the Barlowes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Young Mr. Barlowe was just coming to the family history of the Johnsons
+      when I interrupted him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Was he coming to any other matter that concerned you more closely, think
+      you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny laughed again, only much longer this time than before. She had to
+      wipe her eyes before she could answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear mamma,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;you would laugh as heartily if you had seen him
+      when he suddenly recollected that in his eagerness to make me acquainted
+      with the glories of the Kensits and the abilities of the Johnsons, he had
+      neglected the object of his excursion to that room with my poor self,
+      until it was too late.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I doubt it,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;I do not laugh at incidents of that sort.
+      I lose patience when I hear of a young man neglecting his chances when
+      they are offered to him. But had he ever a chance with you, Fanny?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not the remotest, dear mamma. If he had remembered to speak in time, and
+      if he had spoken with all the eloquence of his admirable uncle, the
+      Alderman, he would not have succeeded. If Thomas Barlowe were the last man
+      in the world I should e'en die an old maid.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is a foolish thing for you to say. You may die an old maid for that.
+      But indeed when I saw young Mr. Barlowe in his home, I perceived that he
+      was not for you. I could not see you a member of that family, worthy
+      though they may be.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think if a girl loves a young man with all her heart she will agree to
+      marry him, however worthy may be his family,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;But I am not
+      that girl, and young Mr. Barlowe is not that man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I daresay that is how you feel,&rdquo; said the elder lady. &ldquo;But you must not
+      forget, Fanny, that you are no longer a girl; it is quite time that you
+      had a house of your own.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is true, dear mamma, but for the present I am happy in living in
+      your house, and I ask for nothing better than to be allowed to stay in
+      your service.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is all very well, but&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, do not introduce that 'but'&mdash;life would be thoroughly happy if
+      it were not for its 'buts.' Here we are in Leicester Fields. I feel as if
+      I should like a roast apple for supper, to put a pleasant taste in my
+      mouth at the close of the longest day I can remember.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They entered the parlour on the ground floor, and found Lottie and Susy
+      roasting apples on the hearth, while Dr. Burney sat in his chair reading.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did not expect you back so soon,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney to her husband.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did not mean to return for another hour,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;but Sir Joshua left
+      early and brought me with him in his coach. He cut his evening short in
+      order to get back to a book which he affirms is the best he has read since
+      Fielding.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It would have to be a good book to take the attention of Sir Joshua,&rdquo;
+       said Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;Did you hear what was its name?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is called 'Evelina,' I believe,&rdquo; replied Dr. Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A novel, of course. I remember hearing the name some time ago,&rdquo; said his
+      wife. &ldquo;'Evelina'; yes, it has a familiar sound. I cannot recollect at this
+      moment who it was that mentioned it to me. I believe I told you of it at
+      the time, Fanny.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not remember your telling me that anyone had mentioned it to you;
+      but I am nearly sure that that was the name of the novel advertised in the
+      <i>Chronicle</i>&mdash;you read out all about it after breakfast one
+      morning,&rdquo; said Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are quite right&mdash;that was how I got the name in my mind. Now you
+      can have your roasted apple, child. But if you are hungry you have only
+      yourself to thank for it. Don't bend so over the fire, Susy; your face is
+      frightfully fed&mdash;so, for that matter, is Lottie's. No, thanks, you
+      need not roast one for me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXIV
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>OME weeks had
+      passed since Cousin Edward had brought his exhilarating news that the book
+      was being asked for at the libraries, and during this interval, Fanny had
+      heard nothing of its progress. She had applied in the name of Mr. Grafton
+      for a copy to be addressed to the Orange Coffee House, but Mr. Lowndes had
+      paid no attention to her request, Edward found out on going to the Coffee
+      House, so it seemed plain to Fanny that the book was not making the stir
+      in the world that her cousin's report from the libraries had attributed to
+      it. But here was a distinct proof that it had at last reached their own
+      circle, and somehow Fanny and her sisters felt that this meant fame.
+      Somehow they had come to think of the readers of the book as being very
+      remote from them&mdash;people whom they were never likely to meet; they
+      had never thought of the possibility of its being named under their own
+      roof by anyone not in the secret of its authorship. But now the strange
+      thing had come to pass: it was not only named by their father, but named
+      with the most extraordinary recommendation that it could receive!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What! Sir Joshua was not only reading it, but he had curtailed his stay at
+      the club in order to get home to continue it! Sir Joshua had actually been
+      content to forsake the society of his brilliant friends, every one of them
+      more or less notable in the world, in order that he might read the story
+      which Fanny Burney had written all out of her own head!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The idea was simply astounding to the girls and to Fanny herself as well.
+      It meant fame, they were assured, and they were right. It took such a hold
+      upon Susy and Lottie as prevented them from giving any attention to
+      Fanny's amusing account of the evening at the Barlowes'; and the fun she
+      made&mdash;modelled on Mr. Garrick's best nursery style&mdash;of the
+      Alderman and Mrs. Alderman, with the speeches of the one and the St.
+      Giles's curtsies of the other, went for quite as little as did her
+      imitation of the bobbing of the crown feathers of the aunts and the
+      rustling of their dresses, the material of which was too expensive to be
+      manageable: the thick silk was, Fanny said, like a valuable horse,
+      impatient of control. She showed how it stood round them in massive folds
+      when they curtsied, refusing to respond to the many kicks they dealt it to
+      keep it in its place.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From the recalcitrant silks&mdash;with illustrations&mdash;Fanny had gone
+      to the slicing of the ham, the hacking at the great sirloin, the clatter
+      of the teacups, and the never-ending passing of plates and pickles, of
+      mustard and pepper and salt&mdash;the things were moving round the table
+      as the planets were shown circling round the sun in the clever invention
+      called the Orrery, after one of the titles of the Earl of Cork&mdash;only
+      the noise made by the perpetual handing on of the things did not suggest
+      the music of the spheres, Fanny said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her descriptions, bright though they were and full of apt metaphors, went
+      for nothing. Her sisters were too full of that wonderful thing which had
+      happened&mdash;the great Sir Joshua Reynolds, President of the Royal
+      Academy, the painter of all the most beautiful duchesses that were in the
+      world, to say nothing of beautiful ladies of less exalted rank&mdash;this
+      great man, who was so busy conferring immortality upon duchesses that he
+      was compelled to keep in his painting-room on Sundays as well as every
+      other day, and who had never been known to suspend his work except upon
+      the occasion of the death of his dear friend Dr. Goldsmith&mdash;this man
+      was actually at that very moment sitting in his arm-chair eagerly reading
+      the words which their sister Fanny had written!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The thought was too wonderful for them. The effect that it had on them was
+      to make them feel that they had two sisters in Fanny, the one a pleasant,
+      homely, hem-stitching girl, who could dance the Nancy Dawson jig for them
+      and take off all the people whom she met and thought worth taking off; the
+      other a grave authoress, capable of writing books that great men forsook
+      the society of other great men to read!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They looked on her now with something of awe in their eyes, and it was
+      this lens of awe which, while magnifying her work as a writer where it
+      came into their focus, made them fail to appreciate her fun, for they saw
+      it, as it were, through the edges of the lens and not through the centre.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She quickly perceived the lack of sympathy of her audience.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the matter with you both to-night?&rdquo; she cried&mdash;they were now
+      upstairs in her room, and she knew that at the same moment Mrs. Burney was
+      giving her husband an account of the party. &ldquo;What is the matter with you
+      both? Has anything happened when I was away to put you out? Why don't you
+      laugh as usual? I am sure I never told you anything half so funny as this,
+      and I was thinking all the way coming home that it would make you roar,
+      and now you sit gravely looking at me and not taking in half I say. Pray,
+      what is the matter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing is the matter, dear,&rdquo; said Lottie. &ldquo;Nothing&mdash;only I can't
+      help thinking that Sir Joshua is at this moment sitting eagerly reading
+      the book that you wrote&mdash;you, sister Fanny, that no one who comes to
+      us notices particularly. I can hardly bring myself to believe that there
+      is only one Fanny.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny looked at her strangely for some moments, and then said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not blame you, dear; for I am myself of the same way of thinking: I
+      cannot realize what the padre told us. I cannot think of myself as the
+      Fanny Burney whose book is keeping Sir Joshua out of his bed. That is why
+      I kept on harping like a fool on the single string of that odious party. I
+      feel that I must keep on talking, lest my poor brain should give way when
+      I sit down to think if I am really Fanny Burney, who was ever happiest
+      sitting unnoticed in a corner when people came to this house, or laughing
+      with you all up here. I cannot think how it would be possible for me to
+      write a book that could be read by such as Sir Joshua.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Better think nothing more about it,&rdquo; said Susy, who fancied she saw a
+      strange look in Fanny's eyes. &ldquo;What's the good of brooding over the
+      matter? There's nothing strange about Sir Joshua's reading the book: I
+      read it and I told you that it was so lovely everybody would want to read
+      it. Besides, Sir Joshua may only have mentioned it for want of a better
+      excuse to leave the club early; so you may not be so famous after all,
+      Fanny.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Susy's well-meant attempt to restore her threatened equilibrium was too
+      much for Fanny. But there was a considerable interval before her laughter
+      came. She put an arm about Susy, saying:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have spoken the truth, my dear sister. I have no right to give myself
+      airs until we find out exactly how we stand. But if Fanny Burney, the
+      dunce, should find out to-morrow that Sir Joshua has not really been kept
+      out of his bed in order to read 'Evelina' by Fanny Burney, the writer, the
+      first Fanny will feel dreadfully mortified.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One thing I can promise you,&rdquo; said Susy, &ldquo;and this is that Susannah
+      Burney will not be kept out of her bed any longer talking to Fanny Burney
+      about Fanny Burney's novel, whether Fanny Burney be mortified or not. We
+      shall know all about the matter when we go to the Reynolds's to-morrow. In
+      the meantime, I hope to have some hours of sleep, though I daresay that
+      Fanny Burney will lie awake as a proper authoress should do, thinking over
+      the exciting party in the Poultry and wondering how she will work in a
+      description of it in her next novel. Good-night, and pleasant dreams! Come
+      along, Lottie.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And Fanny Burney did just what her sister had predicted she would do. She
+      recalled some of the incidents of the tea-party in the Poultry, having
+      before her, not as she had in the hackney coach, the possibility of
+      describing them in a letter to Mr. Crisp, but of introducing them into a
+      new book.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Before she slept she had made up her mind to begin a new book; for she now
+      found it comparatively easy to believe that Sir Joshua was reading
+      &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; with great interest. At any rate, she would hear the next day
+      when she should go to the Reynolds's, whether Sir Joshua had read it, or
+      whether he had only made it an excuse for getting home early in the night,
+      so that he might arise early and refreshed to resume his painting of the
+      duchesses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the next evening, when, with her sisters and their stepmother she
+      tripped along the hundred yards or so of Leicester Fields that lay between
+      their house and that of Sir Joshua Reynolds, all thoughts of the book
+      which she had written and of the book which she meant to write, vanished
+      the moment that she was close enough to Sir Joshua's to hear, with any
+      measure of clearness, the nature of the singing, the sound of which fell
+      gently upon her ears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;H'sh!&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney, stopping a few feet from the door. &ldquo;H'sh! some
+      one is singing. I did not know that it was to be a musical party.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is Signor Rauzzini,&rdquo; said Lottie. &ldquo;I would know his voice anywhere. We
+      are lucky. There is no one who can sing like Signor Rauzzini.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We should have come earlier,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;But when Miss Reynolds
+      asked us she did not say a word about Rauzzini. And now we cannot ring the
+      bell, lest we should interrupt his song.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She stood there with the three girls, under the lighted windows of the
+      house, listening to the silvery notes of the young Roman that floated over
+      their heads, as if an angel were hovering there, filling their ears with
+      celestial music. (The simile was Susy's.) The music sounded celestial to
+      the ears of at least another of the group besides Susy; and that one
+      thought:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How can anyone trouble oneself with such insignificant matters as the
+      writing of books or the reading of books, when such a voice as that is
+      within hearing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And then, all at once, she was conscious of the merging of the two Fanny
+      Burneys into one, and of the existence of a new Fanny Burney altogether&mdash;the
+      Fanny Burney who was beloved by the celestial singer, and this was
+      certainly the most wonderful of the three.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The thought thrilled her, and she knew that with it the truth of life had
+      come to her: there was nothing worth anything in the world save only
+      loving and being loved.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And this truth remained with her when the song had come to an end, soaring
+      to a high note and dwelling on it for an enraptured space and then dying
+      away, so gradually that a listener scarcely knew when it had ceased.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny's imagination enabled her to hear, at the close, the drawing-in of
+      the breath of the people in the room where the song had been sung: she
+      knew that up to this point they had been listening breathlessly to every
+      note. She could hear the same soft inspiration&mdash;it sounded like a
+      sigh&mdash;by her sisters and their stepmother. A dozen wayfarers through
+      Leicester Fields had been attracted to-the house by the sound of the
+      singing, and now stood timidly about the doorway. They also had been
+      breathless. One woman murmured &ldquo;Beautiful!&rdquo; Fanny could understand how the
+      word had sprung to her lips, but what could the man mean, who, almost at
+      the same moment, said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, my God! how could I have been so great a fool?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She was startled, and glanced at him. He was a young man, shabbily
+      dressed, and on his face there were signs of dissipation. He was
+      unconscious of her glance for some moments, then with a slight start he
+      seemed to recover himself. He took off his hat with a respectful bow, and
+      then hurried away. But Fanny saw him turn when he had gone about a dozen
+      yards into the roadway, and take off his hat once more, with his eyes
+      looking up to the lighted windows of the house. He was saluting the singer
+      whom he had not seen, and to Fanny the act, following the words which he
+      had unwittingly uttered, was infinitely pathetic.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It appeared that Mrs. Burney herself received the same impression. Fanny
+      was surprised to hear her say:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor fellow! he was once a gentleman!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then they entered Sir Joshua's house and were shown upstairs to the great
+      painting-room, where Sir Joshua and his sister Frances were receiving
+      their guests.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was quite a small party&mdash;not more than a score of people
+      altogether, and all seemed to be acquainted with one another. Fanny knew
+      several of them; one girl, however, she had never seen before, but she
+      knew who she was in a moment. She was standing at one end of the room
+      chatting to Mrs. Sheridan, and on the wall just above her there hung the
+      picture of a girl in oriental costume and wearing a turban. Fanny Burney
+      had often looked at it in admiration, and Sir Joshua had encouraged her,
+      affirming that it was the best picture he had ever painted and that it
+      would remain in his painting-room until the day of his death. She looked
+      at it now with renewed interest, for the original was the girl standing
+      beneath it&mdash;the beautiful Miss Homeck whom Oliver Goldsmith had
+      called the Jessamy Bride. Several years had passed since Sir Joshua had
+      painted that portrait, from which Miss Burney had recognized the original;
+      and fifty years later another lady recognized the same face, still
+      beautiful in old age, from having seen merely a print of the same picture.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Fanny turned her eyes from the portrait it was to admire the features
+      of Mrs. Sheridan. Mrs. Sheridan was gazing somewhat pensively at the
+      picture of St. Cecilia which was hanging a little way from that of Miss
+      Horneck, and Fanny was near enough to her to perceive how her expression
+      grew into that of the face in the picture. At first sight, it did not
+      appear to Fanny that the two faces were the same, and it seemed as if Mrs.
+      Sheridan perceived this, and determined to vindicate Sir Joshua's skill by
+      assuming the pose of the picture. But Miss Burney knew that the beautiful
+      lady had done it unconsciously&mdash;that it was simply because she was
+      recalling the days when she had sat for the painter, and had obeyed his
+      injunction to lose herself among the simple chords of the aria that was
+      sacred to her since her sister died with the strain upon her lips&mdash;&ldquo;I
+      know that my Redeemer liveth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny gazed at the exquisite face, illuminated with what seemed to her to
+      be a divine light, and for the first time she knew something of what it
+      was to be a great painter. After &ldquo;St. Cecilia&rdquo; the other portraits on the
+      walls seemed paltry. There was no divine light in the faces of the
+      duchesses. There was life in them; they breathed and smiled and posed and
+      looked gracious, but looking at them one remained on earth and among
+      mortals. But St. Cecilia carried one into the glorious company of the
+      immortals. &ldquo;She drew an angel down,&rdquo; was the line that flashed through
+      Miss Burney's mind at that moment. An angel? A whole celestial company.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXV
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">Y</span>OU are looking at
+      her&mdash;I, too, have been looking at her; she is divine,&rdquo; came a voice
+      beside her. She did not need to turn to see the speaker. She had been
+      longing for the sound of his voice for many days. She had not even a
+      chance of hearing him sing before this evening.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is St. Cecilia herself,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;You have seen Sir Joshua's
+      picture?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My countryman, Piozzi, pointed it out to me,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;I was
+      enraptured with the picture. But when the living St. Cecilia entered the
+      room and I heard her story, I felt ready to throw myself at her feet and
+      implore her as the guardian of poor singers to take me to her care. Her
+      face has on it the bloom of a flower dropped fresh from the garden of God&mdash;angelic
+      beyond the voice of man to describe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He spoke, as usual, in French to Fanny, but he had greeted Mrs. Burney in
+      English, and he tried to translate his last phrase to her into the same
+      language. He failed after the first word or two, and begged Miss Burney to
+      complete his task for him. She did so, and her stepmother smiled and
+      nodded in appreciation of his comment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is indeed a beautiful creature,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;I heard her sing
+      more than once at Bath. People went mad about her beauty and her singing,
+      and truly I never heard any singing that so affected me. It was said that
+      she hated to let her voice be heard in public. Her father, Mr. Linley,
+      made her sing: she was a gold mine to Mr. Linley and he knew it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Signor Rauzzini had listened attentively and picked up all that she had
+      said without the aid of a word from Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But now she will never be heard again no more,&rdquo; said he in English. &ldquo;And
+      she is right in making such a resolution, and her husband is a noble man
+      to agree with her in this,&rdquo; he continued, but in French to Fanny. &ldquo;Picture
+      that lovely creature placing herself on the level of such a one as the
+      Agujari! sordid&mdash;vulgar&mdash;worldly! quarrelling daily with the <i>impresario</i>
+      on some miserable question of precedence&mdash;-holding out for the
+      largest salary&mdash;turning a gift which should be divine into gold! Oh;
+      she was right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Signor Rauzzini no doubt thinks it a pity that such a voice should cease
+      to give pleasure to the thousands it enchanted,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney, not
+      being able to follow him in French.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no, no; just the opposite,&rdquo; cried Fanny. &ldquo;He says he admires her the
+      more for her resolution.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am so glad. Pray tell him that I agree with him,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;A
+      good woman will avoid publicity. Her home should be sufficient for her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny did not need to translate the words, he grasped their meaning at
+      once.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I agree with all of my heart, madame,&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;I would not wish my
+      mother or my sister to have their names spoken with freedom by everyone
+      who paid a coin to hear them sing. I should think it&mdash;<i>come si
+      chiamo?</i>&mdash;Ah! forgive my poor English.&rdquo; He went off into French
+      once more&mdash;&ldquo;Pray tell madame that I think it would be odious to hear
+      the name of my mother or my sister tossed from man to man as they toss the
+      name of a woman who comes before the public. I think the woman who would
+      hide herself from all eyes as a violet hides itself under a leaf is the
+      true woman. The shy, timid, retiring one&mdash;I know her&mdash;I esteem
+      her. I could love no other. I have a deep respect for the woman of the
+      Orient who would die sooner than let her face be seen by a man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What does he say&mdash;I like his eagerness?&rdquo; asked Mrs. Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny translated some of his phrases, and Mrs. Burney nodded and smiled
+      her approval.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The bloom on the wing of a butterfly is a very tender thing,&rdquo; resumed the
+      Roman; &ldquo;the breath of a man is sufficient to remove it&mdash;a single
+      breath&mdash;and when the bloom has gone the charm of the beautiful
+      creature has gone also.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not sure that I like the comparison to the butterfly,&rdquo; said Fanny,
+      smiling. &ldquo;The butterfly is the emblem of all that is fickle&mdash;all that
+      is idle except for its yielding to its fickleness. It is beautiful, but
+      nothing else.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am rebuked,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;But with us the butterfly is the symbol of the
+      life&mdash;of the soul. Assume that and you will, I think, see that I
+      meant not to hint at the beauty of the frivolity, but at the beauty of the
+      soul. I feel that a woman's life has on it the bloom of a butterfly's
+      wing, and if that is once breathed on, its beauty is gone for ever&mdash;the
+      woman's life is never again what it was&mdash;what it was meant to be. But
+      if you wish, I will not go beyond the violet as my emblem of the best
+      woman&mdash;my woman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thank heaven that I have no voice,&rdquo; said Fanny gently, after a pause.
+      Young Mr. North-cote, Sir Joshua's pupil, had approached Mrs. Burney&mdash;his
+      eye was on Susy&mdash;in order to tell her that tea was being served in
+      the drawing-room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Burney thanked him and took the arm that he offered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We shall all go in together,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney, with a sign to Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Rauzzini contrived to evade her eye by renewing his admiration of the
+      &ldquo;St. Cecilia.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I could but reproduce in song the effect that flows from her face I
+      should be the greatest singer in the world,&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You need not envy her,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;Do you remember Mr. Handel's setting
+      of 'Alexander's Feast '?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only an aria or two.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One of the lines came into my mind just now when I looked at that
+      picture. 'She drew an angel down.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And it was very apt. She would draw an angel down.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; but the poet has another line before that one&mdash;it refers to a
+      singer&mdash;'He raised a mortal to the skies.' That was the line which
+      came to my mind when I heard you sing. You raise mortals to the skies.
+      Your power is equal to that of St. Cecilia.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, nay; that is what you have done. I have been uplifted to the highest
+      heaven by you. When you are near me I cannot see anything of the world.
+      Why have we not met more frequently? Ah, I forget&mdash;I am always
+      forgetting that the months you spoke of have not yet run out. But I am not
+      impatient, knowing that the prize will come to me in good time. I have
+      been away at the Bath and Salisbury and Bristol and I know not where,
+      singing, singing, singing, and now I go to Paris and Lyon for a few
+      months, but you may be certain that I shall return to England&mdash;then
+      the separating months shall have passed and you will welcome me&mdash;is
+      not that so?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think I can promise you&mdash;every day seems to make it more certain
+      that I shall welcome you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My angel&mdash;my dream!&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He said the words&mdash;both long-drawn monosyllables in French&mdash;in a
+      whisper that gave them the full force of passionate expression. He had
+      need to whisper, for several people were in the room, and Mr. Boswell was
+      among the number, and everyone knew that Mr. Boswell, as a gossip-monger,
+      had no equal in town. He was always pimping and prying&mdash;nosing out
+      germs of scandal&mdash;ever ready to make mischief by telling people all
+      the nasty things other people had said of them. Mr. Boswell had his eye on
+      them&mdash;and his ear. In addition, Mrs. Thrale, who had arrived late,
+      had no idea of allowing the handsome Roman singer to waste himself with a
+      nonentity like Miss Burney, and she was now perilously close to him whom
+      she came to rescue.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the whisper and the expression imparted to it were enough for Fanny
+      Burney. He might have talked for hours in his impassioned way without
+      achieving the effect of his whispered exclamations.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Mrs. Thrale hastened up to his side full of her resolution to rescue
+      him from the conversation with the insignificant person whom his good
+      nature suffered to engage his attention.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, what is this?&rdquo; cried the little lady who regarded herself with
+      complacency as the soul of tact. &ldquo;Have you explained to Signor Rauzzini
+      that you are the unmusical member of the family, Miss Burney?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I believe that he is aware of that fact already, madam,&rdquo; replied Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And yet he is in close converse with you? He is the most good-natured man
+      in town,&rdquo; said Mrs. Thrale. &ldquo;Does he hope to interest you when your father
+      failed?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He has never ceased, to interest me, madam,&rdquo; said Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then he did not talk about music?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes; I think he said something about music.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, touching a note here and there, as one might in passing a
+      harpsichord. Of course you could not have lived in Dr. Burney's house
+      without being able to understand something of music. But we must not
+      trespass upon Signor Rauzzin's courtesy, Miss Burney. Everyone is talking
+      of him in the drawing-room&mdash;he must gratify the company by mingling
+      with them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she addressed Rauzzini in French.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I promised to go in search of you, signor,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Madame Reynolds is
+      distracted. I came on my mission famished&mdash;I had vowed, as the
+      crusaders did, not to taste food or drink until I had succeeded in my
+      emprise. May I ask you to have pity on me now and lead me to the
+      tea-table?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned to ask Fanny to accompany them, but he found that she had
+      slipped quietly away. She was already at the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My duty was to Miss Burney, madame, but she has been frightened away,&rdquo;
+       said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, she is the shy one of the family, I believe,&rdquo; said Mrs. Thrale. &ldquo;I am
+      sure that all the time you were so good-natured as to talk to her she was
+      wishing that the floor would open and allow her to sink out of sight. She
+      would have thought it much more good-natured on your part if you had taken
+      no notice of her. I have scarcely spoken to her half a dozen times myself,
+      though I have frequently been to her father's house. I cannot rack my
+      brain to discover a congenial topic with such young people. Were you
+      successful, do you think?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He made a gesture with his hands that might mean anything. Mrs. Thrale
+      assumed that it meant nothing&mdash;that he felt he was not greatly
+      concerned whether he had been successful in finding a congenial topic of
+      converse with Miss Burney or not.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor girl!&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;She may have her dreams like other girls.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I believe she has&mdash;poor girl!&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;But I know that in her
+      knowledge of music she goes deeper&mdash;soars higher than most young
+      ladies who have submitted to lessons from a <i>maestro</i>&mdash;nay,
+      higher than the <i>maestro</i> himself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Thrale looked doubtfully at him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it possible that we are talking of two different people?&rdquo; said she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, that is quite possible,&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was referring to Miss Burney, the one of the family who does nothing
+      except sew&mdash;her mother commends her sewing very highly. I fear that
+      you actually believed that you were in converse with one of her sisters.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Madame,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;it is my belief that the one who sews in a family is
+      far more interesting than the one who sings. But Miss Burney need not, in
+      my eyes, be any more than Miss Burney to be interesting, though she has
+      taught me more of music than I ever learned before.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is't possible? Oh, yes: I should remember that her father told me that
+      she was his amanuensis&mdash;she made a neat copy of all his notes for the
+      'History of Music.' It is no wonder that she knows something about it.
+      Such a good daughter! And the father took no trouble about her education.
+      She did not know her letters till she was eight or nine, I believe&mdash;perhaps
+      twelve. I don't believe that I ever exchanged half a dozen words with her
+      before this evening; and as for men&mdash;you are the first man I ever saw
+      taking any notice of her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His face lit up strangely, Mrs. Thrale thought, at this revelation. He
+      gave a laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So much the better for her&mdash;so much the worse for the men,&rdquo; said he.
+      &ldquo;And now, madame, if the tea has not become too strong, and if your hunger
+      has not made you too weak to walk to the table, I should esteem it an
+      honour to conduct you thither.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Thrale smiled her acquiescence, and she entered the drawing-room on
+      the arm of the singer. Nothing could have convinced her that he did not
+      feel grateful to her for rescuing him from the position in which his good
+      nature had placed him&mdash;by the side of the most insignificant young
+      woman among all Sir Joshua's guests.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She believed that she was increasing his debt of gratitude to her by
+      keeping him with her for the next half-hour. Her sense of protecting him
+      gave her naturally a sense of patronage, which was quite pleasant for her
+      to experience, especially when she glanced round the room and saw several
+      ladies of higher rank than she could pretend to, frowning in her
+      direction. She knew how Signor Rauzzini was pestered by the attentions of
+      such as these, and she could almost hear the well-bred sneers of her
+      friends as they glanced at her and wondered if she never meant to release
+      the unfortunate young man&mdash;she knew just what they would say, and she
+      accepted their imaginary words as a real compliment to her protective
+      powers. Her smile down the table was one of great complacency.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She also noticed that the insignificant Miss Burney was glowing as she had
+      never seen her glow before. Her face was rosy and her eyes were actually
+      sparkling. Mrs. Thrale had never imagined that such eyes as Miss Burney's
+      could sparkle, no matter what their provocation might be.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor girl! Poor child! Her head is turned, as I feared it would be when I
+      saw the Rauzzini with her. She is the unhappy victim of his good nature.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was the conclusion come to by the little lady whose ability to
+      pronounce an opinion on such a matter was widely acknowledged; and coming
+      to such a conclusion, she naturally commended all the more heartily the
+      step which she had taken for separating the foolish girl and the
+      fascinating young man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She would have waved aside any suggestion that might be made to her to the
+      effect that the increase in Miss Burney's colouring and the light in her
+      eyes was due to Miss Burney's overhearing the conversation between her
+      mother and Sir Joshua respecting a book which he had stayed up all night
+      to read and which he had just finished in time to receive his guests.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The name of the book was &ldquo;Evelina; or, a Young Lady's Entrance into the
+      World,&rdquo; he said, and he was urging Mrs. Burney to follow his example and
+      read it without further delay.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXVI
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>ANNY was at her
+      stepmother's elbow while Sir Joshua gave her a full account of how he had
+      been induced to send to Lowndes for this wonderful book on the
+      recommendation of Mrs. Darner, whose portrait he was painting. Mrs. Darner
+      had excused her unpunctuality at one of her sittings on the ground that
+      she had become so interested in the fortunes of &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; that she could
+      not put the book down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Get it for yourself, sir,&rdquo; she had said, &ldquo;and you will quickly
+      acknowledge that my excuse is valid.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I did not get it then,&rdquo; said Sir Joshua. &ldquo;I find it impossible
+      to keep pace with the useful books that are printed in these days, and I
+      have long ago given up novels. But when, the next day, Mrs. Darner came to
+      sit to me with a woebegone countenance and the traces of tears on her
+      cheeks, so that I could only paint her draping, and that, too, had a
+      woeful droop in its folds&mdash;for let me tell you, madam, that a woman's
+      dress is usually in sympathy with the mood of the wearer&mdash;when, I
+      say, the lady entered my painting-room in this guise, I ventured to
+      inquire if she was serious in her wish that I should depict her in the
+      character of Niobe. 'Oh, sir,' she cried, ''tis all due to that horrid
+      Branghton&mdash;he it is that has brought me to this.' 'The wretch!' said
+      I. 'Have you no friend who will run him through the vitals? Where is he to
+      be found, that I may arrange for his destruction?' 'He is the persecutor
+      of my beloved Evelina,' she replied, 'and heaven only knows what is to
+      become of the poor girl.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, madam, when I had thus brought before me the effect that the book
+      had produced upon so natural a lady as Mrs. Darner, what was left for me
+      but to buy it? And now you see the effect that it has had upon me,&rdquo;
+       continued Sir Joshua, &ldquo;so you must e'en buy it also.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, Sir Joshua,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney, &ldquo;your case has furnished me with the
+      strongest of reasons for not buying it. I would not allow a book into my
+      house that would so turn me aside from my ordinary life and my daily
+      business. What, sir, would you have me stay out of my comfortable bed for
+      hours, in order that I might make myself more uncomfortable still by
+      reading of the imaginary woes of a young woman who is nothing to me but a
+      shadow?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I promise you that you will find Evelina far from being a shadow,&rdquo;
+       said Sir Joshua. &ldquo;She is a creature of flesh and blood, with a heart that
+      beats so that you find your own heart keeping time with it, whether it
+      pulsates slowly or fast. In short, Evelina lives. I have no patience with
+      those attenuated figures that dance on the stage of so many of our new
+      novel writers; I can see the stuffing of straw when their constant
+      gyrating has worked a rip in their seamy side; creatures of rag and wire&mdash;they
+      never deceive one for a moment&mdash;why, their very gyrations are not
+      true to life. But Evelina lives. Some of the characters in the book are
+      distasteful&mdash;some of them are vulgar, but the world is made up of
+      distasteful and vulgar people, and a novel should be true to the world in
+      which the characters are placed. Oh, that was where the greatness of poor
+      Dr. Goldsmith was to be found. He would abate nothing of the vulgarity of
+      the vulgar characters in his plays, because he meant them to live. The
+      people hissed his vulgar bailiffs in his <i>Good-Natured Man</i>, and when
+      Colman cut them out he himself restored them when Shuter played the piece
+      for his benefit the following year, and everyone saw that they were true
+      to life. The vulgarity of Tony Lumpkin and the Three Pigeons made Walpole
+      shudder, but there they remain in the best comedy of our time, and there
+      they will remain for ever. Oh, yes; the author of 'Evelina' knows what
+      life is, and so his book will live.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And who is the author of this surprising book?&rdquo; asked Mrs. Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is a mystery,&rdquo; replied Reynolds. &ldquo;I sent to Lowndes, the bookseller,
+      to inquire, and he pretended that he did not know. He could only say that
+      he was a gentleman of note living in Westminster.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, that is one of the booksellers' tricks to make their wares seem more
+      attractive,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;They know that a man in a mask awakens curiosity.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is so; but 'Evelina' stands in need of no advertisement of such a
+      nature. It would attract attention even though the name of Mr. Kenrick
+      were attached to it. But everyone is dying to find out the name of the
+      author; Mrs. Darner believes it to have been written by Horace Walpole,
+      but only because 'The Castle of Otranto' was published without his name
+      being on the title page.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a very cogent line of argument, it seems to me,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney.
+      &ldquo;Well, Sir Joshua, I hope you will enjoy a comfortable sleep to-night, now
+      that you have the fortunes of that young lady off your mind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, my dear madam, I do assure you that my mind is not yet free from the
+      effects of reading that book,&rdquo; cried Reynolds. &ldquo;I am more faithful to my
+      friends in some books than to forget all about them when I lay them on the
+      shelf. If they live, be assured that I live with them, and the thought of
+      them is to me at times as pleasant as the thought of the best friends I
+      have met in my daily life. I have laid 'Evelina' on a shelf in my memory&mdash;not
+      one of the back shelves, but one that is near to me, so that I can console
+      myself with her companionship when I am lonely.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have never heard you praise a book so heartily, sir,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney.
+      &ldquo;But I will beg of you not to mention it to any of my family, for if it
+      has so unhinged you, what would it not do to those poor girls?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He did not catch all she had said, for she spoke in a voice which she did
+      not mean to travel to Fanny or Susy, who were chatting to Miss Theophila
+      Palmer, Sir Joshua's niece.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may depend on my telling them all I find out in regard to the
+      author,&rdquo; said he in a tone of assent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no,&rdquo; she cried, getting nearer to the bell of his trumpet. &ldquo;No, no; I
+      want you to refrain from mentioning the book to them. I discourage all
+      novel reading, excepting, of course, the works of Mr. Richardson, and
+      perhaps one or two of Fielding, with some of the pages gummed together to
+      prevent them from being read.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, to tempt people to read them,&rdquo; said Reynolds. &ldquo;What were we saying
+      about the attractions of a mask? Well, my word for it, the attractions of
+      a book without a name are as nothing compared with the attraction of
+      gummed pages. But you will let them read 'Evelina,' and you will,
+      moreover, read it yourself&mdash;yes, and you will all be the better and
+      not the worse for doing so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Burney shook her head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was no wonder that Mrs. Thrale thought that Miss Burney looked flushed
+      at this time, or that there was an unwonted sparkle in her eyes; for she
+      had heard nearly every word that Sir Joshua had said, and she could
+      scarcely contain herself for delight. For all her primness, she was at
+      heart a merry schoolgirl, ready to break into a dance at good news, and to
+      shout for joy when things had advanced as she had hoped they would. She
+      felt that it was very hard on her that she could not throw her hat up to
+      the ceiling of the room, as she had heard of Dr. Goldsmith's doing with
+      his wig in the exuberance of his spirits in this same room&mdash;when Miss
+      Reynolds was in her bed upstairs. It was very hard on her to be compelled
+      to restrain her feelings; she was unconscious of the sparkle in her eyes,
+      or of the pæony flush of her cheeks that Mrs. Thrale had noticed and was
+      still noticing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had never felt so happy in all her life. A short time before she had
+      felt that everything in the world was insignificant in comparison with
+      love; but now she realized that there was another joy worthy of
+      recognition. She was not wise enough to perceive that the two emotions
+      sprang from the same source&mdash;that the foundation of love is the
+      impulse to create, and that the foundation of an artist's joy in fame is
+      the knowledge that what he has created is recognized by the world. She was
+      (fortunately) not wise enough to be able to analyse her feelings&mdash;to
+      be wise enough to analyse one's feelings is to be incapable of feeling.
+      All that she was conscious of at that moment was that all worth having in
+      the world was hers&mdash;the instinct to create, which men call Love, the
+      joy of obtaining recognition for the thing created, which men call Fame.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was no wonder that Mrs. Thrale saw that light in her face and in her
+      eyes; nor was it strange that the same observant lady should attribute
+      that illumination to the touch of the fire of the sacred torch. She looked
+      at the handsome face of the Roman youth, with its expression of frankness,
+      and at his eyes, full of the generous warmth of the South, and once more
+      she glanced at Miss Burney, and saw in her face the reflection of the
+      southern sunny glow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor girl&mdash;poor girl!&rdquo; were the words that sprung to her lips. &ldquo;Only
+      a moment's attention from him&mdash;only a word&mdash;nay, a glance from
+      those eyes would have been enough&mdash;and she is at his feet. Poor girl!
+      Knowing nothing of the world&mdash;incapable of understanding anything of
+      life&mdash;having no gift to attract attention&mdash;-&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear Mrs. Thrale, I have come to you for help. You are sure to have read
+      this book that everyone is talking about&mdash;this 'Evelina'&mdash;and
+      you can, I am certain, tell us who is the author. Pray let us know if your
+      friend Dr. Johnson had a finger in it&mdash;I have heard that some of the
+      writing is in the style of Dr. Johnson&mdash;or was it Mr. Anstey&mdash;they
+      say that some chapters could only have come from the author of 'The Bath
+      Guide.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was Lady Hales who had hurried up with her inquiries. She seemed to be
+      the representative of a group with whom she had been standing, several
+      ladies and two or three men.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It so happened, however, that Mrs. Thrale had not yet read the book around
+      which discussion had been buzzing; but she had no intention of
+      acknowledging that, with her literary tastes and with her friendship for
+      Dr. Johnson, she was behind the times. Two or three people had within the
+      week made remarks about &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; in her presence, but she had no idea
+      that it was to become a topic of society.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She smiled enigmatically, to give herself time to make up her mind what
+      her reply should be&mdash;whatever it might be, it certainly would not be
+      a confession of ignorance. She came to the conclusion that on the whole
+      she could not do better than mould her answer so as to heighten the
+      mystery of the authorship.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it possible that none of our friends have discovered the author?&rdquo; she
+      asked, still smiling shrewdly, so as to suggest that she herself had long
+      ago been let into the secret.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We have had many conjectures,&rdquo; said Lady Hales. &ldquo;And let me whisper in
+      your ear&mdash;there is one among us who is ready to affirm that the
+      address of the author is Thrale Hall, Streatham.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I vow that I am overwhelmed,&rdquo; cried the little lady. &ldquo;The compliment is
+      one that any writer might envy. Pray how could it enter the mind of any of
+      our friends to connect me with the authorship of such a book?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There are some touches of your style in many of the letters of Evelina,&rdquo;
+       replied Lady Hales. &ldquo;And some have said that only you could have had the
+      varied experiences described so vividly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A marvellous book, truly, this 'Evelina,'&rdquo; cried Mrs. Thrale. &ldquo;Some
+      people, you say, recognize the hand of Dr. Johnson in its pages, others
+      the pen that wrote 'The Bath Guide,' and now it is suggested that the
+      whole was the work of a humble scribbler named Mrs. Thrale&mdash;a person
+      who has surely little in common with the two writers you have named.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She took care that her affectation of surprise had an artificial note
+      about it. There was no knowing how things might turn out. Mrs. Thrale had
+      no objection in the world to have her name associated with the authorship
+      of a book about which it was clear a good many people would be talking for
+      some months to come.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May I not be entrusted with something more definite?&rdquo; asked Lady Hales in
+      a low voice. &ldquo;If it is a secret for the present&mdash;well, you know that
+      I am one to be trusted.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can assure you definitely that the book was not written by Dr.
+      Johnson,&rdquo; replied Mrs. Thrale, with a smile. &ldquo;He has not for a single week
+      during the past year failed to visit us at Streatham for at least four
+      days at a time. He reads to me all that he writes&mdash;it is not much&mdash;and
+      I can give you an assurance that the name of Evelina has not once appeared
+      in his manuscript. I may also say that if you take my advice you will not
+      be in too great haste to attribute the book to Mr. Anstey.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was not mystification, it sounded much more like revelation, Lady
+      Hales thought.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I dare not press you further, madam,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Believe me, I can appreciate your reticence, if&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, now you suggest that I have told you a secret that I have concealed
+      from everyone else, and that is going too far,&rdquo; cried Mrs. Thrale. &ldquo;Now,
+      dear madam, cannot you see that even if I were in the secret of the
+      authorship, I should be guilty of a great breach of courtesy were I to
+      reveal it to anyone? If an author choose to remain anonymous, is it not
+      discourteous to try to snatch away his&mdash;or her&mdash;veil of
+      anonymity?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can but assent,&rdquo; said Lady Hales. &ldquo;I do not doubt that this view of the
+      matter is the correct one. At any rate, you may depend on my acting in
+      accordance with it. I shall make no further attempt to pry into the
+      secret, and I shall think it right to dissuade my friends from the quest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In that I am sure you will be acting in accordance with the author's
+      wishes,&rdquo; said Mrs. Thrale, smiling knowingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXVII
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>O they parted; and
+      Lady Hales hastened back to her friends to whisper in their ears that the
+      mystery was as good as solved: Mrs. Thrale had as much as acknowledged
+      that she was the author of &ldquo;Evelina,&rdquo; but she hoped that, as she had
+      written the book without the knowledge of her husband, her friends would
+      respect her desire to remain anonymous.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Thrale, being a Member of Parliament, would not like to have the name
+      of his wife bandied about among ordinary people as that of the writer of a
+      novel,&rdquo; Lady Hales explained, though really no explanation was needed of a
+      fact that could be appreciated by every sensible person aware of the
+      contemptible character of the novels of the day. &ldquo;Only Dr. Johnson is in
+      the secret,&rdquo; she continued. &ldquo;Dr. Johnson, as we all know, lives at Thrale
+      Hall for five days out of every week, finding the table provided by Mrs.
+      Thrale to suit his palate very much better than that controlled by poor
+      blind Mrs. Williams at Bolt Court.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That may account for some of the touches in the book in the style of Dr.
+      Johnson,&rdquo; said one of the ladies. &ldquo;You may be sure that no book could be
+      written under the same roof as Dr. Johnson without his having something to
+      say to it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never could understand how so fastidious a lady as Mrs. Thrale could
+      tolerate the company of Dr. Johnson at her table, but now the secret is
+      out&mdash;this secret and t'other,&rdquo; said one of the gentlemen. &ldquo;Dr.
+      Johnson is not seen at his best at the dinner-table.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So far as that goes, neither is Mr. Thrale himself,&rdquo; said another. &ldquo;He
+      has a huge appetite.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I had an inkling all along that Mrs. Thrale wrote the book,&rdquo; said a lady
+      with a huge hat. &ldquo;I actually remarked to my sister, while I was reading
+      it, 'if this story is not written by Mrs. Thrale, Mrs. Thrale is the one
+      who would like to have written it.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But mind, not a word must be breathed that would hint that she
+      acknowledged it to me by direct word of mouth,&rdquo; cried Lady Hales,
+      beginning to have some qualms. &ldquo;No; you must understand clearly that she
+      did not say in so many words that she wrote it. Indeed, her last words to
+      me were, that anyone who should name in public the author of a book
+      published anonymously would be guilty of a great discourtesy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is perfectly right: to do so would be to exhibit very bad taste
+      truly,&rdquo; came more than one acquiescent voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And the result of their complete agreement on this point was the immediate
+      dissemination of the report that Mrs. Thrale was indeed the writer of
+      &ldquo;Evelina.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But that clever little lady, on getting rid of the questioner, found that
+      Signor Rauzzini had slipped away from her side and was now making his
+      adieux to Mrs. Burney and her stepdaughters. She noticed that the light
+      had gone out of Fanny Burney's eyes as the young singer bent over her
+      hand, and once again she shook her head. She had given more attention to
+      Miss Burney during the previous hour than during all the years she had
+      visited at St. Martin's Street. She thought that it might be her duty to
+      say a word of warning to the young woman, who could not possibly know
+      anything about the world or the deceitfulness of Italian vocalists.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meantime, however, she ordered one of her three footmen to tell the
+      coachman to drive to the shop of Lowndes, the bookseller, and there she
+      purchased a bound copy of &ldquo;Evelina,&rdquo; at nine shillings.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Thrale was, of course, well known to Mr. Lowndes, and seeing her,
+      through the window of his office, enter his shop, he put his quill behind
+      his ear and emerged, bowing and smiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How was it that you failed to apprise me that you had printed 'Evelina
+      '?&rdquo; she inquired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is't possible that you did not receive my advertisement, madam?&rdquo; he
+      cried. &ldquo;Why, I posted it to you with my own hands even before the book had
+      left the press, the truth being that I was anxious to get your opinion
+      respecting it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never had any advertisement from you about it,&rdquo; she replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I was to blame for not underlining the announcement, madam,&rdquo; said he.
+      &ldquo;I ask your pardon. How were you to know that it was not one of the usual
+      novels of the season?&mdash;I do not venture to recommend such to the
+      attention of ladies of superior tastes like yourself, madam. I shall not
+      forgive myself, rest assured. But I am punished, in that I have been
+      unable to sell a second edition by telling my customers how highly it was
+      esteemed by Mrs. Thrale.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You assume that it would be highly esteemed by me, Mr. Lowndes; but I am
+      not quite sure that you do not flatter yourself in believing that my
+      judgment would be the same as that of the public. The poor public! How can
+      they possibly know whether a book is good or bad?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They cannot, madam; that is why we poor booksellers must only trust to
+      sell our books on the recommendation of ladies of taste and judgment. May
+      I beg, madam, that you will favour me with your opinion respecting the
+      merits of 'Evelina'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It has been so great a success that I fear I shall not think highly of
+      it. Pray, who is your modest author?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Positively, madam, I am unable to tell you. The MS. was brought to me
+      with a letter purporting to come from a Mr. Grafton at the Orange Coffee
+      House, near the Haymarket, and he desired the secret of its authorship to
+      be kept close.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, yes; to be sure&mdash;kept close from the vulgar public; but he could
+      never think that you were violating his confidence by telling me his
+      name.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He could not be so unreasonable, madam&mdash;nay, rather would he kneel
+      to you&mdash;for he could scarce fail to understand the value that we set
+      on&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not convinced either that he would benefit from the exchange of
+      confidence or that I should; but prithee, sir, what is his name?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Fore heaven, madam, I have told you so much as is known by me respecting
+      the gentleman. Never before have I been placed in so remarkable a
+      position. My fault, Mrs. Thrale, no doubt: I should have taken precautions
+      against being thus surprised into publishing a book without knowing the
+      name of the author. But although my judgment enabled me to perceive that
+      the work was out of the common, yet I never counted on its merits being
+      recognized so speedily. May I beg of you to favour me with your opinion as
+      to who the writer may be, madam&mdash;that is, when you have read it,
+      unless, indeed&mdash;&rdquo; he glanced at her shrewdly with a little knowing
+      smile&mdash; &ldquo;unless, indeed, you could so favour me <i>instanter</i>.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, Mr. Lowndes, how would it be possible for me to give you an opinion
+      as to the authorship of a book which I have not yet read? I am not one of
+      those astute critics who, they say, can tell you all there is to be known
+      about a book without cutting the leaves, or even&mdash;if you slip a
+      guinea into their hand&mdash;without opening the covers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought that perhaps you might be one of those who have been let into
+      the secret, madam. I trust that Dr. Johnson's health has not been so bad
+      as to prevent him from doing any literary work. Ah, what does not that
+      great man&mdash;nay, what does not the world owe to you, Mrs. Thrale?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you would suggest, Mr. Lowndes, that the book about which we have been
+      conversing was written, even in part, by Dr. Johnson, I can give you an
+      assurance that such is not the case. He is in no way inclined to engage in
+      any form of literary labour. He grudges his friends even a note.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There are some gentlemen who come hither and honour me by conversing on
+      the subject of letters, and more than one of them has pointed out passages
+      in 'Evelina' that show signs of the great Doctor's pen; but for that
+      matter&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I agree with you, sir; every scribbler in Grub Street apes the style of
+      Dr. Johnson, but only to reveal the ape in himself. Now, Mr. Lowndes, if
+      you really are in earnest in saying that you are unaware who is the author
+      of your book, I have done you some service in curtailing by one the list
+      of authors to whom it might possibly be attributed. You may strike out the
+      name of Johnson, sir, on my authority.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall certainly do so, madam&mdash;not that I, for my own part, was
+      ever foolish enough to fancy that he had written more of it than a page or
+      two. I am indebted to you, Mrs. Thrale.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then if you would wish to pay off the debt, you can do so by informing me
+      of your success in discovering the writer. 'Tis quite impossible to
+      conceive of the man's remaining unrevealed for any length of time, and I
+      confess that I am anxious to know if he is among my acquaintance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You assume the sex, madam.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, have you a doubt of it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There are so many literary ladies nowadays, Mrs. Thrale.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you surely saw the handwriting of the script?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is just the point. My printers have examined it and say that it is a
+      lady's caligraphy only disguised to look like a man's. In my own judgment
+      they are right. It is an upright hand, neat and clear&mdash;not in the
+      least like that of an author. Still, that counts but little, seeing that
+      the writer of the book would be pretty certain to have a clear copy made
+      of his script by someone else. I have had a suspicion, from the mystery
+      insisted on by this Mr. Grafton, that he is none other than the author of
+      the 'Castle of Otranto.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, Mr. Walpole?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Even so. You recollect how delighted he was to conceal the hand he had in
+      that book&mdash;going much farther than I thought any gentleman would in
+      honour go, to make people believe it was what it pretended to be?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Lowndes, I know not what your experience has been; but mine is that
+      when a gentleman becomes an author he lays aside whatever sense of honour
+      he possesses as a gentleman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have had little to do with gentlemen authors, madam. Most of my writers
+      are simply authors.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And Mr. Walpole very properly put himself in line with them, and so had
+      no hesitation in carrying out his fraud in 'Otranto.' Well, if it be so,
+      you may count on his revealing himself now that the book has become a
+      success. In any case, you will not forget to keep me informed, and I shall
+      esteem it a favour, Mr. Lowndes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Lowndes renewed his promise and bowed the lady to the door. The three
+      volumes of &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; had been brought out to the chariot by one of the
+      footmen, a second following in his footsteps to see that he deposited them
+      fairly upon one of the cushions, and a third standing by the open door in
+      case of the breakdown of either of the others.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Thrale got into the splendid machine, the three lackeys swung
+      themselves up on their platform behind, and clung on to the heavy straps,
+      looking, in their brilliant livery, as the chariot lurched away over the
+      uneven cobble-stones, like mighty butterflies of a tropical forest swaying
+      together on the rim of a gigantic flower.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXVIII
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>O chance had
+      Rauzzini of saying more than the most conventional words of farewell to
+      Fanny. Mrs. Burney was beside her and her two sisters also. He yielded to
+      his impulse to pronounce a malediction on Mrs. Thrale, who had so
+      interrupted his conversation with Fanny&mdash;the last he could possibly
+      have until his return from France after fulfilling his engagements. But
+      this was when he had seen the Burney family out of the door of the house
+      in Leicester Fields and to the entrance to St. Martin's Street. He was
+      then alone, and could give in some measure expression to his feelings in
+      his own tongue.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His imagination was quite vivid enough to suggest to him all that the
+      officiousness of Mrs. Thrale had interrupted&mdash;the exchange of vows&mdash;the
+      whispered assurances of fidelity&mdash;perhaps a passionate kiss&mdash;a
+      heaven-sent chance during a marvellous minute when the painting-room
+      should be emptied of all but herself and him! It was distracting to think
+      of all that had been cut out of his life by that busybody. While he had
+      been talking alone with Fanny his eyes had taken in the splendid
+      possibilities of the painting-room. There were three immense easels on
+      different parts of the floor, and each carried a glorious canvas for a
+      life-size portrait. Two of them were already finished, and the third
+      contained a portion of the Greek altar at which a fair lady was to be
+      depicted making her oblation to Aphrodite, or perhaps Artemis. The young
+      man, however, did not give a thought to the glowing work of the great
+      painter on the canvases, he thought only of the possibilities of a moment
+      or two spent in the protecting shadow of one of them with that gentle,
+      loving girl yielding herself to his clasp&mdash;only for a moment&mdash;he
+      could not reasonably hope that it should be for longer than a single
+      moment, but what raptures might not be embraced even within that brief
+      space! A moment&mdash;one immortal moment worth years of life! That was
+      what he saw awaiting him in the friendly shade of one of Sir Joshua's
+      portraits&mdash;that was all that the sublime picture meant to the ardent
+      lover&mdash;it was not the immortal picture, but the immortal moment that
+      was before his eyes&mdash;but just when, by a little manoeuvring on his
+      part, the joy that should change all his life and console him for being
+      deprived of the society of his beloved for three months, was within his
+      reach, that foolish woman had come bustling up with her chatter and had
+      separated them!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For which he now implored heaven and a heathen deity or two that still
+      linger in the language of malediction in their native Italy, to send her
+      soul to the region where Orpheus had sought his Eurydice. Down&mdash;down
+      with her to the lowest depths of the Inferno he implored his patrons to
+      bear her and to keep her there for ever.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His imploration was quite as lyrical as his &ldquo;Waft her, Angels, to the
+      Skies,&rdquo; only its bearing was upon the fate of the lady in just the
+      opposite direction, and he was even more fervent in its delivery. But
+      having delivered it, he felt some of that relief which is experienced by a
+      true artist who has a consciousness of having done some measure of justice
+      to his theme. He felt that if beatitude had been denied to him, the one
+      who had separated him from it would not escape scathless, if the intensity
+      of an appeal to the high gods of his native land counted for anything in
+      their estimation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then he went more or less contentedly to his lodgings to prepare for
+      his appearance in the opera of the night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He sang divinely as an angel, and again if any of his audience remained
+      unmoved by the enchantment of his voice, they certainly could not but have
+      yielded to the charm of his presence. Some women might be incapable of
+      appreciating the exquisite character of his vocalism, but none could
+      remain impervious to the appeal of his smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As for the girl who alone had appealed to his heart, she went home with
+      her mother and sisters without a word, for she had not perceived the
+      glorious possibilities lurking behind the grand canvases in Sir Joshua's
+      painting-room. She could even bring herself to believe that the coming of
+      Mrs. Thrale had been rather opportune than otherwise; for if she had not
+      joined her stepmother at that time she would not have heard all that Sir
+      Joshua had said about &ldquo;Evelina.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      All that she had heard had made her supremely happy, not, she thought,
+      because she was greedy for fame, but because it meant to her that she was
+      a step nearer to the arms of the man she loved. The fame which Sir
+      Joshua's words implied was dear to her because she knew that she need not
+      now hesitate to seat herself by the side of this king of men, as his equal&mdash;no,
+      not quite as his equal, but certainly not as a beggar maid. She knew that
+      when it was announced that she was the writer of a great book, or, what
+      was better still, a book that everybody was talking about, people would
+      not shrug their shoulders when they heard that Rauzzini> the Roman singer,
+      whose name was in everybody's mouth, was about to marry her. The event
+      that she scarcely dared hope for had actually happened: she was no longer
+      the nobody which she had been, she was a woman the product of whose brain
+      had been acclaimed by the best judges, and so the barrier that she had
+      seen separating her lover from herself had been thrown down. The same
+      voices that had acclaimed her Rauzzini as a singer had acclaimed her as a
+      writer; for though she had hesitated to receive her cousin Edward's
+      reports from the libraries as conclusive of the mark that the book was
+      making, she could not now have any doubt on the subject: a book that was
+      spoken of by Sir Joshua Reynolds as he had spoken of &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; must be
+      granted a place high above the usual volumes to be found on the shelves of
+      a circulating library. She was convinced that in a short time everyone
+      would be talking about it in the same strain, and though people might be
+      incredible on the subject of its authorship, the fact would remain the
+      same&mdash;she had written the book, and the fame that attached to the
+      writer would assuredly be hers. There would now be no sneering references
+      to King Cophetua. Everyone within their circle would admit that there was
+      no disparity between her position as the writer of the book that everyone
+      was talking about and that of the singer whom people crowded to hear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She felt supremely happy. Though Mrs. Burney had not shown any particular
+      wish to repeat what Reynolds had said to her about the book, she knew
+      perfectly well that this was only because of her general distrust of
+      anything in the form of a novel, and her fear lest something unreadable
+      should get into the hands of the girls. But Fanny also knew that the fact
+      of Mrs. Burney's shunning the novels of the circulating libraries would
+      not interfere with the reputation that must accrue to the author of
+      &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo;; so she was not affected by the indifference shown by her
+      stepmother to all that Reynolds had said. She awaited without impatience
+      the day when her father should take up the book and read the Ode at the
+      beginning. She felt that, although his name was not at the head, he would
+      know that the verses were addressed to him, and that it was his daughter
+      Fanny who had written them. She knew that however firmly he might assert
+      himself on the side of his wife in preventing the entrance to the house of
+      all novels excepting those of Richardson&mdash;Fanny herself had never had
+      a chance of reading even &ldquo;The Vicar of Wakefield&rdquo;&mdash;he would be proud
+      of her as the writer of &ldquo;Evelina.&rdquo; She was not quite sure if he would be
+      as proud of her as if she had developed a wonderful musical capacity; but
+      she never doubted that his affection for her&mdash;assisted by his
+      knowledge of the impression the book had made upon the most important of
+      his own associates&mdash;would cause him to take her into his arms with
+      delight and to forgive her for running the chance of being classed among
+      the Miss Minifies of the period&mdash;the female writers whose ridiculous
+      productions were hidden beneath the sofa cushions in so many households.
+      Fanny Burney was a dutiful daughter and she had nothing of the cynic about
+      her, but she was well aware of the fact that success would be regarded by
+      her father as justifying an experiment that failure would have made
+      discreditable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Once more, then, the three sisters met that night in Fanny's bedroom. The
+      two younger could now look on her without their feeling of awe. They were
+      on the verge of being indignant with Mrs. Burney for having made no
+      reference whatever since returning from the Reynoldses to the subject of
+      Sir Joshua's eulogy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not once did she mention the name of 'Evelina' to the padre; Sir Joshua
+      might just as well have talked of Miss Herschel's comet to her,&rdquo; said
+      Susy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And after our schooling ourselves so rigidly to give no sign that we were
+      in any measure connected with the book too&mdash;it was cruel!&rdquo; said
+      Lottie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was not as if the padre did not give her a good chance more than
+      once,&rdquo; continued Susy. &ldquo;Did he not ask if anyone had given her any news?
+      And what did she answer?&mdash;Why, only that someone had said that Mr.
+      Fox had lost a fortune a few nights ago at faro! As if anybody cares about
+      Mr. Fox! I was prepared for her opening out at once to him about the book&mdash;maybe
+      begging him to send Williams to buy it at Mr. Lowndes'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, at seven-and-sixpence!&rdquo; cried Fanny. &ldquo;My dear child, do you know
+      mamma no better than to fancy that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What I don't know is how she resisted it,&rdquo; said Lottie. &ldquo;Oh, you heard
+      how Sir Joshua talked about it; and Miss Reynolds too&mdash;she praised it
+      up to the skies.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Other people in the painting-room as well as in the drawing-room were
+      talking of it,&rdquo; said Susy. &ldquo;I heard the beautiful Miss Horneck speak of it
+      to the lady with the big muff and the rose taffeta with the forget-me-not
+      embroidery.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sure that everybody was speaking of it&mdash;I could hear the name
+      'Evelina' buzzing round the rooms,&rdquo; cried Lottie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; everyone was talking about it, and only mamma was silent&mdash;<i>is</i>
+      silent. I don't think that at all fair,&rdquo; continued Susy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are silly little geese,&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;Could you not see that she would
+      not mention it lest it should reach our ears and we should be filled with
+      an <i>irresistible</i> desire to possess it&mdash;<i>it</i>&mdash;a modern
+      novel! Think of it! Oh, my dears, you are too unreasonable, Mamma knows
+      her duty too well to allow even the name of a novel to pass her lips and
+      maybe reach the ears of such a group of fly-away young things as
+      ourselves! She understands the extent of her responsibilities. Go to your
+      beds and be thankful that you have so excellent a guardian.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But when we were prepared&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; began one of them, when Fanny
+      interrupted her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may conserve your preparations&mdash;you will hear her say the name
+      soon enough&mdash;you may depend upon that,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;You may prepare to
+      hear yourselves summoned into her presence to give a full and true account
+      of your complicity in the thing which was perpetrated under this sacred
+      roof&mdash;nay, in the very room where the great philosopher Newton wrote
+      his thesis! A novel written in the room in which the divine 'Principia'
+      was produced! Why, 'twere as bad in mamma's eyes as acting one of Mr.
+      Foote's farces in St. Paul's Cathedral. Oh, yes, you'll have to face her
+      soon enough, and after that you'll never wish to hear the name Evelina
+      again. Now, good-night, and thank heaven for your respite.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They left her, glum and dissatisfied. It was plain to her that they were
+      disappointed at not being given the opportunity of showing how admirably
+      they had themselves under control in regard to the secret&mdash;of showing
+      Fanny how they could hear Mrs. Burney talk at length about &ldquo;Evelina,&rdquo;
+       while neither of them gave the least sign of ever having heard the name
+      before. It was indeed disappointing that all their studied immobility
+      should go for nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Fanny knew that their secret could not possibly remain hidden for many
+      more days. If the book was going into everybody's hands, her father would
+      be certain to have it, and then&mdash;would he not know? Would not she be
+      summoned into his presence and that of his wife&mdash;the lady of many
+      responsibilities&mdash;and required to defend herself?...
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She fell asleep before she had come to any conclusion as to the line of
+      defence that she should adopt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And in spite of the readiness of her sisters for any inquisition to which
+      they might be summoned, they were startled&mdash;as was also Fanny herself&mdash;when,
+      immediately after a rather silent and portentous breakfast, Mrs. Burney
+      said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Susy and Lottie, you may go to your duties. You, Fanny, will remain, as
+      your father wishes to speak to you on a matter of some gravity.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So the long-expected hour had come, the three girls thought. By some
+      accident unknown to them their secret was exposed, and Fanny was about to
+      be called upon to explain, if she could, to the satisfaction of her father
+      and her stepmother, how it came that she so far forgot the precepts of her
+      upbringing as to write a novel quite in the modern spirit, though adopting
+      a form which the master-touch of Mr. Samuel Richardson had hallowed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXIX
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE two girls left
+      the room slowly, after sending in the direction of Fanny a glance which
+      they meant should encourage her&mdash;a glance which should let her know
+      that they were quite ready to share her punishment, should the worst come
+      to the worst.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny replied to them with her eyes; and then prepared for the worst.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It quickly came.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear daughter,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney, when they were alone, Mrs. Burney in
+      her chair at the head of the table. &ldquo;My dear Fanny, I am no believer in
+      leading by degrees up to such a communication as I have to make to you. I
+      think that the sooner it is got over the better it will be for all whom it
+      may concern. Well, this is it: Mr. Thomas Barlowe has written to me asking
+      my permission for him to address you with a view to marriage.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He made a pause, looking at her to observe the effect of this revelation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And what he saw at first was a girl with a pale face and downcast eyes,
+      awaiting, almost breathlessly, an accusation from which she shrank; but
+      when he had spoken he saw a great change come over her. Not immediately,
+      but gradually. It seemed to him that she had not fully realized the
+      meaning of his words&mdash;that she was puzzled&mdash;trying to recall
+      what he had said. Then the light seemed to dawn upon her. She flushed,
+      and, after a few moments, threw back her head and went into a peal of
+      laughter&mdash;a real schoolgirl's fit of laughter at something amazingly
+      comic&mdash;the tumbling of a clown into a pool of water with a splash,
+      or, perhaps, the slipping of a dignified beadle upon a butter slide. Her
+      laughter went on for a long time, but without in the least suggesting
+      hysteria&mdash;it was simply a girl's natural laughter on realizing the
+      comic side of a situation which grown-up people would regard as extremely
+      serious.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Neither her father nor his wife could understand why she should receive in
+      such a spirit an essentially serious communication&mdash;the most serious
+      that any young woman could receive. They had not before them the ludicrous
+      picture that presented itself to her imagination&mdash;a picture of the
+      Roman Rauzzini on the one side and the Poultry Barlowe on the other,
+      asking her to choose between them. It was this presentment, coming in a
+      flash the moment she realized that the publishing of the book was not the
+      question which she had to face, that forced her to yield to that long fit
+      of laughter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her father and stepmother sat stolidly by, but she knew that had she and
+      her father been alone, he would at least have smiled with her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In a few minutes she had recovered herself sufficiently to be able to
+      apologize for her levity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I beg your pardon,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I am behaving like a goose, but I could
+      not help it&mdash;something forced me&mdash;something that occurred to me&mdash;a
+      funny thing. I am very sorry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is nothing funny that I can see in the honourable request made by
+      an honest young man, my dear Fanny,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no; nothing whatever; only&mdash;well, funny ideas will occur to
+      foolish people like myself at the most serious moments,&rdquo; said Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is quite true, indeed,&rdquo; said her father. &ldquo;I have myself experienced
+      what you say. Perhaps, after all, I should not have blurted out what I had
+      to tell you&mdash;it came to you as a surprise, I doubt not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A great surprise, indeed,&rdquo; she replied. &ldquo;I cannot understand how Mr.
+      Barlowe could ever fancy that I&mdash;that he&mdash;that&mdash;oh, I
+      should have known what that terrible entertainment was meant to lead to&mdash;but
+      when, in that clumsily marked way I was sent into the drawing-room with
+      him alone, he began to talk of his uncle, the Aider-man&mdash;he said that
+      the Alderman was quite approachable even in regard to ordinary people like
+      ourselves&mdash;and then came his cousins&mdash;all of them remarkable!
+      But you should have seen him slice away at the ham&mdash;the biggest ham I
+      ever saw&mdash;it needed to be&mdash;such eating!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The recollection of that no doubt made you laugh,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney. &ldquo;But,
+      at the same time, you must remember that though the customs of the Poultry
+      are not ours, still, they may be very reasonable customs&mdash;perhaps
+      more reasonable than our own. It may suit us to dine as late as halfpast
+      four and only to have a slice of cake with our tea; but business people
+      find it more convenient to dine at one o'clock&mdash;it makes an equal
+      division of their long working-day&mdash;so that a slice of ham&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know that is quite true, and I was not so foolish as to give myself
+      airs because I had dined at half-past four and had no appetite for ham,&rdquo;
+       said Fanny; &ldquo;but&mdash;oh, mother, you saw how foolishly formal was the
+      whole thing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I said that I thought it quite unnecessarily formal,&rdquo; replied Mrs.
+      Burney, &ldquo;and if I had had any notion that it was going to be like that I
+      would certainly have given Mrs. Barlowe a hint. Still, Thomas is, I know,
+      an excellent young man who has never given his parents an hour's
+      uneasiness, and his intentions are honourable, and so should be honoured.
+      If you have no tender regard for him at present that is no reason why,
+      when you get accustomed to the thought of him as a suitor for your hand&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, mother, that is quite impossible!&rdquo; cried Fanny. &ldquo;How could I ever get
+      accustomed to such a thought?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not know why you should not,&rdquo; replied Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;He is a most
+      worthy young man, and Mr. Barlowe's business is one of the best in the
+      City. You must remember, my dear Fanny, that in these days a girl, unless
+      she has a portion, runs a very great chance of becoming an old maid, so
+      that no opportunity of settling down in a comfortable home should be
+      neglected.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is perfectly true,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney. &ldquo;You will understand that we
+      have no desire to force this or any match upon you, my dear child: so long
+      as I have a house over my head you shall share it. But I am sure that you
+      must know that I am a poor man to-day, although I have worked as hard at
+      my profession as any living man, and I cannot provide you or your sisters
+      with any portion. Heaven knows that if I had a fortune I would gladly
+      divide it among you; but as it is, I think it right to tell you that you
+      need expect nothing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dearest father,&rdquo; said Fanny, dissolving into tears, as she took his hand
+      and kissed it, &ldquo;I have never expected a fortune from you&mdash;not a penny
+      piece. I know that I shall be portionless, and I daresay that Mr. Barlowe
+      thinks himself generous in his proposal; but I could never bring myself to
+      accept him&mdash;to look on him as a suitor. It would be quite impossible.
+      If I thought it possible that I should ever have any affection for him, I
+      might feel myself justified in encouraging him; but I know that it would
+      be out of the question. I would prefer to go forth and beg my bread&mdash;nay,
+      to starve.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then we shall pursue the matter no farther for the present,&rdquo; said her
+      father, kissing her on the forehead as she nestled close to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, that is best&mdash;for the present,&rdquo; acquiesced his wife. &ldquo;Still, if
+      you will be advised by me, my dear Fanny, you will remember that Mr.
+      Barlowe is ready to address you knowing that you will be portionless, and
+      if you bear that in mind, perhaps you will be surprised to find some' day,
+      not so far distant, that the thought of him is not so repugnant to you.
+      You are no longer a girl, and when one is midway between twenty and thirty
+      every extra year counts in reducing one's chances of being settled in
+      life. I could cite dozens of instances that I have known of young women
+      being glad to accept at twenty-eight the suitors they scorned at twenty or
+      even twenty-five. Oh, yes, the years come upon one and bring with them a
+      clearer vision of life and love; frequently they bring regret for
+      opportunities neglected. But we will not press the matter any farther&mdash;just
+      now. I dare say the young man will submit to be put off&mdash;for a time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, for ever,&rdquo; said Fanny resolutely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, well,&rdquo; said her stepmother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After a pause, during which Fanny seemed to be debating some matter in her
+      mind, a little line showing itself along her forehead, she said slowly: &ldquo;I
+      do not think that I shall be a burden on you, dear father; I believe that
+      one day I may be able to do something.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do not fancy that I would ever think of you as a burden, my dear child,&rdquo;
+       said her father. &ldquo;But what do you mean by saying that you may one day do
+      something?&mdash;some work, do you suggest?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Something&mdash;I am fond of writing,&rdquo; she murmured.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He laughed gently, saying:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are a very good girl, my love, and I know how much I am indebted to
+      you for your admirable copying of my notes for the History; but do not let
+      the idea take hold of you that such work is well paid. If you ever get in
+      touch with a bookseller, he will tell you that the work of a copyist is
+      very poorly paid.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was not thinking of copying,&rdquo; murmured Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of what then, pray?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I could but write a book,&rdquo; she replied, with her eyes on the floor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A book!&rdquo; cried Mrs. Burney, who thought that she had been silent long
+      enough. &ldquo;A book!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To be sure&mdash;to be sure,&rdquo; said her father, in the indulgent tone of a
+      parent humouring a child. &ldquo;You might write a book&mdash;so might anyone
+      who could pay for a ream of paper, a bottle of ink and a box of quills.
+      You should speak to Mr. Newbery about it: he has printed many nursery
+      stories since 'Goody Two Shoes.' You might indeed do something that the
+      children would take a fancy to. Well, Francis Newbery is as honest a man
+      as his uncle, and we may talk to him about it. By the by, did not you once
+      tell me that you had written something, or that you were going to write
+      something? You thought it proper to get my leave. I had forgotten that.
+      Well, if it be a moral nursery story, we might interest Mr. Newbery in
+      it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not think that it is quite wise to encourage a girl to neglect her
+      useful household duties in order to compile some rubbish that no one would
+      read,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course you will understand that you are not to neglect your household
+      duties, Fanny,&rdquo; said her father.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If she performs her household duties and sticks to her needlework, she
+      will have no time left for scribbling rubbish,&rdquo; cried Mrs. Burney,
+      hastily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She made a bonfire of all that childish nonsense long ago, and I hope
+      that she will never be so foolish as to waste good paper and pens and,
+      most precious of all, good time, over such exercises. That is all we have
+      to say just now, I think&mdash;is it not, Doctor? I shall reply to Mr.
+      Barlowe's letter&mdash;a most creditable letter&mdash;straightforward&mdash;honourable!
+      I am only sorry that I cannot make the reply to it that it deserves.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She had opened the door and called for William, their manservant, to
+      remove the breakfast things. Fanny lingered for a few minutes after she
+      had risen from her chair. She had assumed from the moment she had begun to
+      speak of writing, that her opportunity had come; if her stepmother had not
+      interposed so hastily and so emphatically, she would have made her
+      confession as to &ldquo;Evelina,&rdquo;, let the consequences be what they might; but
+      now that the servant had come with his tray and her stepmother jingled her
+      key-basket, she perceived that her chance was gone. She had a sense of
+      sneaking out of the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As she went slowly up the stairs she could hear the voice of her
+      stepmother remonstrating with her father for having said something that
+      she, Fanny, might regard as encouragement to waste her precious time in
+      the pursuit of such folly as writing a book.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She heard her father's little laugh as he explained (she was sure) that of
+      course he had not been speaking seriously; but that he had not the heart
+      to be severe upon her and her harmless scribbling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The author of &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; went very slowly upstairs, and when she reached
+      the work-room landing she found Susy and Lottie waiting for her, glowing
+      with excitement. Susy was waving over her head what seemed to be a bulky
+      pamphlet. Coming closer, Fanny saw that it was the chief of the literary
+      reviews, which had apparently just arrived at the house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A splendid column about 'Evelina,'&rdquo; she whispered. &ldquo;Not so good as it
+      should be, but still splendid. Here it is. But why are you so glum? Surely
+      they did not scold you now that the book is so great a success.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They did not ask me to tarry in the room to charge me with double-dealing
+      in regard to the book,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;They would not allow me to make my
+      confession when I had the opportunity&mdash;the best that I shall ever
+      have. 'Twas not my confession that was on the <i>tapis</i>, but quite
+      another. That is why I look glum.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Another&mdash;another confession? But what had either of them to
+      confess?&rdquo; cried Lottie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing. They didn't confess.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But whose confession was it, then, if not theirs?&rdquo; asked Lottie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was young Mr. Barlowe's,&rdquo; said Fanny, with a lugubriousness that was
+      quite comic. &ldquo;Young Mr. Barlowe wrote to the padre to confess that he was
+      passionately&mdash;madly&mdash;in love with me, and threatening to drown
+      himself unless permission were given to him to address me&mdash;we all
+      know how fervently young Mr. Barlowe would put his case&mdash;that was
+      what I was summoned to listen to&mdash;the fiery letter&mdash;only it was
+      too ardent for my ears: I was only told its purport.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But who would ever have thought that he had it in him?&rdquo; cried Susy. &ldquo;Such
+      impudence! I never dreamt that he could rise to such a height of impudence
+      or I should have thought better of him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Tis not too late yet, my child,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;You are at liberty to
+      think as highly of Thomas as you please&mdash;or as it would please him.
+      Please take over his blighted affections and it will be a weight off my
+      mind. Now give me a chance of reading my splendid review&mdash;not that I
+      care in the least what these foolish critics may say of me&mdash;I care
+      nothing, I tell you, only if you do not let me see it at once I shall die
+      at your feet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There it is,&rdquo; said Susy, &ldquo;a full column! The idea of anyone written of in
+      such terms being proposed to by Thomas Barlowe! Such impudence indeed!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXX
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE levity shown by
+      Fanny Burney and the flippancy of her phrases did not wholly conceal from
+      her sisters all that she was feeling on the subject of the proposal to
+      which she had referred with such lightness. She knew that while her father
+      and her stepmother would not treat her with any marked disfavour on
+      account of her rejection of the worthy young man who was ready to offer
+      her a home, still Mrs. Burney at least regarded with great disfavour the
+      nature of the answer which she had to send to the Poultry, and Fanny was
+      very well aware of the ease with which so conscientious a guardian as Mrs.
+      Burney could make her feel every day of her life what was Mrs. Burney's
+      opinion of her rejection of an eligible young man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny recognized the great merits of her stepmother, and she could look
+      from her standpoint at most of the incidents of their daily life. In that
+      household one mouth less to feed was worth consideration&mdash;the number
+      of mouths to feed was a constant source of thought with Mrs. Burney, as
+      was also the question of a provision for the future of all of them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Burney would be fully justified in feeling cross with her, not being
+      aware of the fact that another young man, compared with whom Thomas
+      Barlowe was as the dust of the ground, was burning, with an ardour of
+      which Thomas was incapable, to take her to himself and provide for her in
+      a style undreamt of in the Poultry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the worst of the matter was that she could not let her stepmother into
+      this secret. She could not say that she was engaged to marry Signor
+      Rauzzini, and she might leave herself open to the gravest rebuke for
+      having listened to his protestations of devotion without obtaining the
+      consent of either of her parents.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And through all this tangle of reflections there ran the silken thread of
+      consciousness that she was no longer the Fanny Burney who was regarded by
+      her stepmother as the dunce, but Fanny Burney the writer of &ldquo;Evelina,&rdquo; to
+      whom the most critical review had devoted a full column of adulation!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That was what made her position so anomalous; and it was because she took
+      the happenings of the previous days to heart that she went to bed with a
+      shocking headache, and after a sleepless night was found on the verge of a
+      fever. She was suffering from suppressed secrets; but the doctor did not
+      know this. He prescribed James's Powders; and when these should have done
+      all that they were meant to do&mdash;a small part of all that Dr. James
+      and Mr. Newbery affirmed they would do&mdash;a change into the country.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But several weeks had passed before she was strong enough to start on the
+      latter and most essential portion of the prescription, and found herself
+      in her own room in Mr. Crisp's isolated house at Chessington.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meantime, of course, she had no further news of the book, and she remained
+      unconfessed, so far as the secret of its publication was concerned. Her
+      sisters did not so much as mention its name or the name of Thomas Barlowe,
+      so cleverly had they diagnosed the nature of her malady and so tactfully
+      did they try to hasten her recovery.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her old friend Mr. Crisp had been her guide since her childhood. She
+      always alluded to him as her second Daddy&mdash;so far as paternal
+      influence was concerned she might have given him the foremost place. He it
+      was who had led her on to embody in letters to him the daily incidents of
+      her life, thus unconsciously setting the loom, as it were, in which
+      &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; was to be woven. He it was who became her teacher and her
+      critic, and it was possibly because she feared his criticism of her work
+      that she refrained from making a confidant of him from the first. She felt
+      that she could face the public and the reviewers&mdash;it did not matter
+      how they might receive the book, but she was too timid to submit it to the
+      mature judgment of the man who had first put a pen in her hand. It was not
+      on her own account that she refrained from giving him a chance of reading
+      her book, but on his: she knew how hurt he would be if he found her book
+      to be an indifferent one, and whether indifferent or not, how angry he
+      would be if people did not buy it by the thousand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now, however, that she found herself alone with him, she made up her mind
+      to tell him all about it. She would choose her own time for doing this;
+      but it would certainly be done before she returned to St. Martin's Street.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But on the second day after her arrival at Ches-sington a parcel came for
+      her, addressed by Susy. On opening it, she found it to contain two volumes
+      of &ldquo;Evelina.&rdquo; The letter that was enclosed told her that Cousin Edward had
+      called at the Orange Coffee House and found that a set had been left there
+      at the instance of Mr. Lowndes, addressed to Mr. Grafton. Of these, Lottie
+      had read the first two, which were now sent on to the author, but the
+      third she had not finished, and hoped that Fanny would not mind her
+      detaining it for a few days longer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This was really the first glimpse that the author had of her book in its
+      binding. She had, in the name of Mr. Grafton, requested Mr. Lowndes to
+      send a set of the volumes to the Orange Coffee House. But that was nearly
+      three months ago, and until now Mr. Lowndes appeared not to have thought
+      it worth his while to comply with the request. Now, however, it seemed to
+      have occurred to him that the author of a book that everyone was talking
+      about might be worth conciliating, and so he had directed a set of volumes
+      to the Coffee House.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At once Fanny made up her mind that she would pave the way, so to speak,
+      for a full confession to Mr. Crisp.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Susy has sent me on two volumes of a new novel, lest I should feel dull,&rdquo;
+       she said. &ldquo;As if I am not much more likely to feel dull in the company of
+      a new novel than of my old Daddy!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought that your stepmother prohibited the reading of novels, new or
+      old, in your house,&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps mamma did not know anything about this particular one,&rdquo; replied
+      Fanny; &ldquo;besides, it is to be read in your house, not ours.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So that the responsibility will be mine?&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;Mrs. Burney is only
+      answerable to heaven for keeping your mind free from the baleful influence
+      of novels, but I am in a worse case, for I am answerable to Mrs. Burney.
+      And what is the name of the precious production?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let me see,&rdquo; said Fanny, artfully referring to the title page. &ldquo;Oh, yes:
+      'Evelina; or, a Young Lady's Entrance into the World.' Do you call that an
+      alluring title?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Too sentimental by half,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;But I have heard of the thing, and
+      one of the reviews dealt with it some weeks ago.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Praise or blame?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, foolish adulation for the great part; but not without a reasonable
+      word here and there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The reasonable part you are sure must be the censorious? That is not fair
+      to the poor author.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor author? Yes, they are all poor authors nowadays. What's the name of
+      this particular item of poverty?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is no name on the title page; but I hear that the writer was Mr.
+      Anstey himself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! another 'Bath Guide'!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sir Joshua Reynolds told mamma that he had remained up all night reading
+      it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor Sir Joshua! His eyes are none too good at the best! And does Susy
+      believe that the book which kept Sir Joshua awake is the best one to send
+      you asleep? You came to Chessington, you know, to get as much as possible;
+      'Tired Nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep!' the truest words that
+      Shakespeare ever writ.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What I propose to do is to try it upon you, my dear sir. I mean to give
+      you a dose of it this evening, instead of gruel, and if it makes you sleep
+      I will know that I may continue it for myself&mdash;it will be more
+      wholesome than poppy or mandragora.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good! But I dare swear that it will be bad enough to keep me awake. You
+      know that extremes meet in the case of books, as well as other matters;
+      one keeps awake reading a good book, in expectancy of its undeveloped
+      goodness; and reading a bad one, wondering how far the author can actually
+      go in point of dullness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have often thought that; but Susy has sent only two of the three
+      volumes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So that we shall not be able to fathom the full depth of the author's
+      dullness? We should be grateful to Susy&mdash;so should the author. Well,
+      you shall begin after tea, while there is yet daylight: <i>Le livre ne
+      vaut pas la chandelle.</i>&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>Nous verrons</i>,&rdquo; cried Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And she started reading the book that same day, an hour before sunset. The
+      room in which they sat was a small one with a window facing the west and
+      overlooking a long stretch of billowy common. The spicy scent of the
+      wallflowers in the little garden patch at the side of the house was wafted
+      through the half-open lattice, and occasionally there came the sound of
+      the ducks gabbling at the pool beyond the gate that shut off the house
+      from the lane. It was a cloudless evening, and the sunset promised to be
+      peach-like in its tender tints of pink and saffron with the curves of
+      delicate green in the higher sky. Fanny sat at the window and the old man
+      reclined at his ease upon the sofa.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am giving myself every chance,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;All that I ask of you, my
+      Fannikin, is that you do not glance at me every now and again to see if I
+      am still awake. If you do so, I shall never yield to so much as a doze.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I promise faithfully to await your signal that you are alert,&rdquo; said she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And so began one of the most delightful hours of her life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was not a particularly good reader aloud when a book was casually put
+      into her hands, but here she had before her a volume that she could almost
+      have repeated verbatim, so that she soon found that she was just too
+      fluent: she felt that if she went on at this rate his critical ear would
+      tell him that she had every page by heart, and he would ask her for an
+      explanation of so singular a thing as her being able to repeat so much of
+      a book which she professed to have in her hands for the first time. She
+      put a check upon her fluency, and though she did not go so far as to
+      simulate stumbling over certain words, she neglected the punctuation now
+      and again, and then went back upon some of the passages, causing him to
+      give a little grumble and say:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Be careful, my dear; there's no need for haste: the evening is still
+      young.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      After that she was more careful&mdash;which is the same as saying she was
+      more careless of adhering to the scheme she had adopted. She felt that as
+      he had now been put off the scent, she might run along as she pleased
+      without there being a chance of his suspecting anything through her
+      showing herself familiar with passage after passage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Before she had got through more than a dozen pages she heard a creaking of
+      the sofa&mdash;she trusted herself to glance in that direction and found
+      that he was no longer reclining: he was sitting up and listening
+      attentively. She continued reading without making a remark for a full
+      hour. The sun had set, but the twilight was clear enough to allow of her
+      seeing the print on the page before her for some time still; then the
+      darkness seemed to fall all at once, and she laid the book down when she
+      had come to the close of one of the letters.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Candles,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Candles! Upon my word, the world is right for once:
+      the stuff is good. We must have candles. Candles, I say!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Supper, say I,&rdquo; cried Fanny. &ldquo;I feel that I have need of bodily
+      refreshment after such a task. Does it sound real to you, Daddy Crisp&mdash;all
+      about the Young Lady who is about to enter the world?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not merely does it sound real, it is real&mdash;it is reality,&rdquo; he
+      replied quickly. &ldquo;The man who wrote what you have read has something of
+      the genius of&mdash;of&mdash;now whom does he resemble, think you?&mdash;Richardson
+      here and there, and in places, Fielding, it seems to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You suppose that 'tis written by a man?&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, of course, 'tis the work of a man,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;Where is the woman
+      living that is capable of writing a single page of that book? What, have I
+      gone to so much trouble in training you to understand what is bad and what
+      is good in writing, to so little purpose, that you should have a doubt as
+      to the sex of what you have just read?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The sex of a book&mdash;a novel?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not? There are masculine books and there is feminine&mdash;trash.
+      There you have the difference.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you do not consider this to be&mdash;trash?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you get the candles, Miss Burney? It seems that you are sorely in
+      need of illumination if you put that question to me seriously. Trash?
+      Madam, you perceive that I am all eagerness to hear the rest of the story,
+      and yet you put that silly question to me! Look you here, you rogue,
+      cannot you see that the very fact of your putting such a question to me
+      shows that the book is the work of a man? When a carefully trained woman
+      such as you cannot yet discriminate between the good and the trash that is
+      written, how would it be possible for a woman to write what you have
+      read?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You think there is nothing womanly in the book?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is nothing effeminate in the writing, so much is sure. There is
+      plenty that is womanly in the book, because the man who wrote it knows how
+      to convey to a reader a sense of womanliness to be in keeping with the
+      character of the letters&mdash;that is what is meant by genius. A woman
+      trying to produce the same effect would show the frill of her petticoat on
+      every page. She would make the men's parts in the book as feminine as the
+      women's. Now, no more chatter an you please, but get the candles.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And Mrs. Hamilton will get our supper by their light.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny tripped away, and was behind the door of the larder before she
+      allowed the laughter which was pent up very close to her eyes to have its
+      freedom. It was a very hearty laugh that she had, for there was a constant
+      buzzing in her ears of the question:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What will he say when he learns the truth?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She was ready to dance her Nancy Dawson in delight at seeing the effect of
+      the book upon the old man whom she loved&mdash;the man who was directly
+      responsible for its existence. If Mr. Crisp had not taken trouble with
+      her, encouraging her to write her letters to him in a natural style, the
+      correspondence in &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; would, she knew, be very different from what
+      it was. So, after all, she reflected, he was right in pronouncing the book
+      the work of a man; but he had no idea that he was the man who was
+      responsible for it. That reflection of hers was as fully imbued with the
+      true spirit of comedy as her anticipation of the effect that would be
+      produced upon him by the revelation of the authorship.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And that was why this young student of the human comedy was able to
+      restrain herself from making the revelation to him at once: she had, as it
+      were, a delicate palate for comedy, and it was a delight to her&mdash;the
+      gratification of her natural vanity had nothing to do with it&mdash;to
+      lead him on to commit himself more deeply every moment on the question of
+      the sex of the writer. Oh, no; she had no idea of making any confession to
+      him for the present. She would have many another chat with him before the
+      moment for that <i>dénouement</i> in the comedy should arrive.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So she got the candles and the housekeeper laid the cold chicken and the
+      plates on the supper-table, and Mr. Crisp set about mixing the salad in
+      the manner he had acquired in Italy. And all the time they were engaged
+      over the simple meal he was criticising what she had read, and he had
+      scarcely a word to say about it that was not favourable. But he took care
+      to protect himself in case he should be forced to retire from the position
+      he had taken up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A man is a fool to pronounce an opinion on a book before he has had the
+      last page read to him,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I have only been touching upon the part
+      that I have heard, and I say that it seems to me to be as good as anything
+      I have read for years; but that is not saying that the remainder, or some
+      portions of the remainder, may not be so greatly inferior as to compel me
+      to pronounce unfavourably of the book as a whole. I have had instances of
+      such inequality shown by many writers, and it may be that the writer of
+      'Evelina' will be added to the list, although he shows no sign of falling
+      off up to your last page. Do not be hurried by me, my dear, but if you
+      have indeed made up your mind to eat no cheese, Mrs. Hamilton can remove
+      the <i>débris</i>, and unless you are tired, you will read me a few pages
+      more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She read until midnight. The only pauses that she made were when he
+      trimmed the wicks of the candles. He commended her fluency. She had never
+      read better in his hearing, he said. She showed that she understood what
+      she was reading; and that, after all, was the greatest praise that could
+      be given to anyone. He did not suggest the likelihood that she was tired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was the sound of the bleating of lambs occasionally borne from the
+      meadows beyond the little stream&mdash;the sound of an owl that came
+      nightly about the house from the barn of the farm a few hundred yards away&mdash;the
+      sound of a large moth bumping against the glass of the casement through
+      which the candle-light shone. There was nothing to interrupt her in her
+      delightful task until the church clock struck the hour of midnight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not another line,&rdquo; she cried, jumping from her chair. &ldquo;Poor Evelina! she
+      will be the better for a sleep. When she awakens she may be able to see
+      more clearly who are her true friends and who are not to be trusted.
+      Good-night, dear Daddy; and receive my thanks for your attention.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Give me the volume,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I usually awake before six, and so shall
+      have a couple of hours of it before rising.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will not get it from me, sir,&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;Captain Mervain knows the
+      naval rule about drinking glass for glass, and let me tell you that the
+      same rule holds in the matter of reading a book&mdash;chapter for chapter
+      between us, sir; we shall finish as we have begun.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She blew him a kiss and ran upstairs to escape his protests: he shouted
+      them after her from the foot of the stairs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXXI
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE next morning
+      was a lovely one, and Fanny was feeding the ducks in the brook before
+      eight o'clock. When she came into the house to breakfast she found Mr.
+      Crisp in the porch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have given me a sleepless night,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I lay awake endeavouring
+      to determine for my own satisfaction what would be the outcome of the
+      girl's meeting that dreadful Branghton family. I worked out the story to
+      its proper conclusion&mdash;so I thought&mdash;on my left side; but when I
+      turned on my right I found that I had been grossly astray in all my
+      fancies; and forthwith I set to work to put myself right. After an hour or
+      two I thought I had succeeded, but, lo! a turn on my back and I saw that,
+      as I planned it, the story would never come to an end. So I kept on until
+      the dawn. Then I fell asleep, but only to find myself surrounded by
+      demons, in the form of Branghtons, and a master devil wearing the epaulets
+      of a naval officer, and he made for me with a horrid leer and a cry of
+      Mervain! I awoke in a worse state than did the Duke of Clarence in the
+      play, and I have not slept since. Oh, that little mischief, Susy!
+      Wherefore did she send hither that magic book to be my undoing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, sir, never before did I perceive the evil of novel reading,&rdquo; she
+      said. &ldquo;I could not understand my mother's banning all such books, but now
+      I see the wisdom of it. I now see how they tend to unsettle one. But it
+      may not yet be too late to save you from the evil influence of 'Evelina.'
+      If I read no more of her story, you will soon forget her and all may be
+      well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will read no more? Good! Carry out your threat and I will e'en take
+      the coach to London and buy a full set at Mr. Newbery's.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At Mr. Newbery's? Ah, sir, that is a threat you could not carry out,
+      however vindictive you might be.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And why not, prithee? Think you I would begrudge the seven or eight
+      shillings it would cost?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, sir; but if you went to Mr. Newbery you would probably find yourself
+      treated badly by him if you accused him of publishing the book. 'Tis Mr.
+      Lowndes who is the guilty person.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will not put one to the humiliation of a journey to London all for a
+      trumpery novel?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, not for a trumpery novel; but we were talking of 'Evelina.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I submit to the correction, my dear; and so now we are in perfect
+      agreement, you will continue the story, if only to allay my sleepless
+      speculations.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wonder how it will sound when read in the morning? I fear that it will
+      be as dull as a play would seem in the garish light of day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell not that to me. There are novels of the morn as well as of the even,
+      and I believe that the freshness of this one will be best appreciated in
+      the brightness of such a morning as this. At any rate, we can but make a
+      trial of it. If we find that it does not read well, you can lay it aside
+      till the evening.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny was delighted to find that he was as interested in her book as Susy
+      had been; and the noon came and found her beginning the second volume to
+      him, sitting by his side in the sunlight that bathed the little garden,
+      and his attention never flagged. Once or twice, however, he grumbled, but
+      her ear assured her that his grumble was not a critical one; it was only
+      meant to censure the behaviour of the rude Captain Mervain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They were still in the garden when, shortly after noon, a chaise was heard
+      in the lane: it appeared to be on its way to the house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! as I live 'tis mamma and my sisters come to pay us a visit,&rdquo; cried
+      Fanny, seeing a handkerchief waved to her from the window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They shall be made welcome, for I cannot doubt that they have brought the
+      third volume with them,&rdquo; said Mr. Crisp, rising to receive his visitors.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In this way the reading was interrupted, and indeed Fanny was rather glad
+      of a respite. She had not risen from her chair since nine o'clock. A
+      chance of stretching her limbs was very acceptable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Burney and the girls had scarcely settled down to their cakes and
+      sweet wine, after explaining that Dr. Burney had insisted on their taking
+      this drive into the country, the day promised to be so fine, when Mr.
+      Crisp turned to Susy, saying:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You wicked girl! What did you mean by sending us the two volumes of that
+      vile novel to upset us poor country folk? And I hope you have not
+      neglected to bring with you the third.&rdquo; Poor Susy reddened and glanced at
+      Fanny without trying to make any reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh, what is this?&rdquo; cried the old man. &ldquo;Do you mean to disclaim all
+      responsibility for the act? Ah, 'tis too late for you to make such an
+      attempt. The evil has been done. The poison has begun to work in our
+      blood; and its effects can only be neutralized by the contents of the
+      third volume. Say at once, I pray, if you have brought it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do not trouble poor Susy with your tropes, sir,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;She cannot
+      grasp your meaning, and only trusts that we have not gone mad. I suppose
+      the road was as usual&mdash;half of it muddy and the rest dusty?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I insist on hearing if the third volume is in the chaise,&rdquo; said Mr.
+      Crisp, firmly. &ldquo;If it be not, then you may drive straight back to St.
+      Martin's Street and return hither with it in time for Fannikin to read it
+      to-night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pray what book is it that you refer to, Mr. Crisp?&rdquo; inquired Mrs. Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What book, madam! As if there were more books than one printed this year!
+      Why, Mrs. Burney, where have you been living all this time, that you have
+      never heard of 'Evelina '?&rdquo; cried he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have heard of little else save this 'Evelina' for some time past; but I
+      have no time for reading novels, nor has any member of my family,&rdquo; replied
+      the lady.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I insisted on one member of your family finding the time yesterday and
+      to-day, and the consequence is that she has gone through the first volume
+      and part of the second since Susy was so obliging as to send them hither.
+      I was in hopes that you had brought the third volume; but I perceive that
+      we shall have to wait for it now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Susy was examining very closely the pattern on her plate when Mrs. Burney
+      turned to her, saying:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Does Mr. Crisp mean that you got that novel and sent it hither to Fanny?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only part of it&mdash;no more than two volumes,&rdquo; said Susy quickly, as
+      though anxious to submit extenuating circumstances to the notice of her
+      stepmother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you get it at Hill's library, or where?&rdquo; inquired Mrs. Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did not get it at a library,&rdquo; replied Susy slowly, as a reluctant
+      witness might answer an incriminating question.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, did you buy it? Did you spend your money on it?&rdquo; cried Mrs. Burney,
+      with a note of amazement not free from anxiety.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no; I did not buy it,&rdquo; said Susy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How did it come into your hands, then&mdash;tell me that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cousin Edward brought it for Fanny.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you read the first two volumes and are now reading the third?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, mamma, 'tis I that was led by my curiosity,&rdquo; said Lottie hastily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Though you have often heard me protest against the vice of novel reading?
+      I wonder at you, Lottie. I am shocked that you should so yield to a vulgar
+      temptation,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, my dear madam, you must not talk of our dear 'Evelina' as if she
+      were an everyday person,&rdquo; said Mr. Crisp. &ldquo;On the contrary, she is a most
+      interesting young lady, and if I do not soon learn what happens to her now
+      that she has formed some very dubious intimacies, I shall be inconsolable.
+      Have you read the book, Mrs. Burney?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not I indeed,&rdquo; replied Mrs. Burney, with more than a suggestion of
+      indignation that such a charge should be brought against her. &ldquo;I have
+      heard enough about that book during the past month to prevent me from
+      having any wish to read it, even if I were a novel reader, which I
+      certainly deny. I am ashamed that any member of my household should so far
+      forget her duty as to read such stuff.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, come, my dear lady, you must remember that there are novels and
+      novels,&rdquo; said Mr. Crisp. &ldquo;I have heard you praise Mr. Richardson, have I
+      not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Richardson was a genius and a great moral writer, sir, as well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The two are not invariably associated. But what if I tell you that this
+      new book is worthy of being placed between 'Clarissa Harlowe' and
+      'Pamela'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will not do so gross an injustice to the memory of a great man, I am
+      sure. But, if you please, we will discuss this no longer. No matter what
+      this 'Evelina' may be, the fact remains that I gave a command that our
+      home should be free from the taint of novel reading, and my wishes have
+      been secretly ignored. I should not wonder if Fanny had encouraged Edward
+      to procure the book for her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I cannot deny it,&rdquo; said Fanny in a low voice. &ldquo;'Twas my doing altogether.
+      All the blame should rest on my shoulders&mdash;yes, from the first&mdash;the
+      very first&mdash;from the title page on to 'Finis.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And your delinquency has given me greater pleasure than I have derived
+      from other people's rectitude,&rdquo; said Mr. Crisp. Then he turned to Mrs.
+      Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear madam, you must forgive our Fannikin for her misdemeanour. If you
+      had but read the book for yourself you would feel as I do on the subject.
+      'Tis the most fascinating story&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is, I hold, the worst of the matter,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;The more
+      fascinating the novel, the more dangerous it is, and the greater reason
+      there is why it should be excluded from every honest home. A dull story
+      may do but little harm. One might reasonably tolerate it even among a
+      household of young girls, but a clever one&mdash;a fascinating one, as you
+      call this 'Evelina,' should never be allowed to cross the threshold. But,
+      by your leave, sir, we will talk no more upon a question on which I know
+      we shall never agree.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is the most satisfactory proposal that could be made,&rdquo; said Mr.
+      Crisp, bowing. &ldquo;I will only add that since you are so fully sensible of
+      the danger of a delightful book in your house, you will take prompt
+      measures to prevent the baleful influence of 'Evelina' from pervading your
+      home, by despatching the third volume to me without delay. The third
+      volume of such a novel may in truth be likened to the match in the barrel
+      of gunpowder: 'tis the most dangerous part of the whole. The first two
+      volumes are like the gunpowder&mdash;comparatively innocent, but the
+      moment the third volume is attached&mdash;phew! So you would do well not
+      to delay in getting rid of such an inflammatory composition, Mrs. Burney.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I promise you that you shall have it at once, sir,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney.
+      &ldquo;And I trust that you will not allow the first and second to return to my
+      house. A barrel of gunpowder may be as innocent as you say, so long as the
+      match is withheld, but still I have no intention of turning our home into
+      a powder magazine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That was the last reference made to &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; while Mrs. Burney and the
+      two girls remained at Chessington. They went away so as to be back in St.
+      Martin's Street in time for dinner; but the moment they were together in
+      the chaise Mrs. Burney burst out once more in her denunciation of the vice
+      of novel reading. From her general treatment of the theme she proceeded&mdash;as
+      the girls feared she would&mdash;to the particular instance of its
+      practice which had just come under her notice. She administered to poor
+      Susy a sound scolding for having received the book from her cousin Edward
+      in secret, and another to poor Lottie for having ventured to read it
+      without asking leave. The girls were soon reduced to tears, but not a word
+      did they say in reply. They were loyal to their sister and her secret with
+      which they had been entrusted. Not a word did either of them utter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The drive home on that lovely afternoon was a dreary one, especially after
+      Mrs. Burney had said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I fear that this duplicity has been going on for a long time in our
+      house. Yes, I have noticed more than once an exchange of meaning glances
+      between you and Fanny, and sometimes, too, when your cousin Edward was in
+      the room. It seemed to me that you had some secret in common which you
+      were determined to keep from me. I said nothing at that time, for though
+      my suspicions were awakened, yet I thought it best to take the most
+      favourable view of the matter, and I assumed that the secret&mdash;if
+      there was a secret&mdash;was an innocent one&mdash;such as girls in a
+      family may share among themselves about some trifling thing; but now I
+      have no doubt that your glances and your winks and your elbowings had to
+      do with the smuggling of books into the house for your surreptitious
+      reading. I am ashamed of you. It hurts me deeply to find that, after all
+      the care I have taken to preserve you in innocence of the world and its
+      wickedness, you have been behaving with such duplicity. I shall, of
+      course, think it my duty to let your father know what I have found out,
+      and he may be able to suggest some means of preventing a repetition of
+      such conduct.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The poor girls dared not even look at each other for mutual sympathy, lest
+      such glances should be interpreted by their mother as a further attempt to
+      pursue the scheme of duplicity with which she had charged them. They could
+      only sit tearful and silent until they were once again in St. Martin's
+      Street. They longed to rush upstairs together to their room and mingle
+      their tears in a sisterly embrace before determining how they should meet
+      their stepmother's charges in the presence of their father.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Mrs. Burney was too astute a strategist to permit them to consult
+      together.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is your master within?&rdquo; she inquired of William, the man-servant, who
+      opened the door for them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is in the library, madam, with Mrs. Esther,&rdquo; replied the man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So much the better,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney to the girls. &ldquo;We shall go directly
+      to him, and your sister Esther will be present.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She made them precede her to the room that was called the library. Dr.
+      Burney and Hetty were laughing together across the table&mdash;the sound
+      of their merriment had been heard by the girls before the door was opened.
+      But at the portentous gravity of the entrance of Mrs. Burney her husband
+      became grave.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have returned early,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and&mdash;good heavens! you have been
+      weeping&mdash;you do not bring bad news&mdash;Fanny has not had a
+      relapse?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fanny is quite well; but I bring you bad news,&rdquo; replied Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;You
+      will, I am sure, regard it as the worst possible news when I tell you that
+      she, as well as her sisters here, have been guilty of the grossest
+      disobedience&mdash;a conspiracy of disobedience, I may call it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am amazed&mdash;and grieved,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;But I can scarcely believe
+      that, brought up as they have been&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They do not deny it,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;I only discovered by chance that, in
+      defiance of our rule against novel reading, they been have trafficking
+      with their cousin Edward to procure novels for their secret reading, and
+      the latest they smuggled into the house is that one called 'Evelina'&mdash;I
+      actually found Fanny reading the book to Mr. Crisp, and her sisters
+      admitted&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what did Fanny admit?&rdquo; he cried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She admitted that Edward had procured the book at her request,&rdquo; replied
+      his wife. &ldquo;Was not that enough?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not half enough&mdash;not a quarter enough, considering that it was Fanny
+      who wrote 'Evelina' with her own hand and under our very noses without our
+      suspecting it,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney quietly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Burney looked at him dumbly for more than a whole minute. There was
+      silence in the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she sat slowly down on the nearest chair, still keeping her eyes
+      fixed upon him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXXII
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>OCTOR BURNEY sat
+      for a long time staring at a point high above his wife's head. The eldest
+      daughter, Hetty, standing at the other side of the writing-table, was
+      radiant; her eyes were dancing. The two others were standing together&mdash;huddled
+      together, it might be said, for they suggested a pair of lambs recently
+      frightened&mdash;doubtful of what is going to happen next and feeling that
+      the closer they are to each other the safer they will be.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you ever hear of anything so funny?&rdquo; said Hetty, glancing around and
+      still radiant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her father got upon his feet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And she was the only one that never had any attention,&rdquo; said he, as if he
+      had not heard Hetty's remark. &ldquo;Fanny was left to make her own way as
+      pleased her best&mdash;no one troubled about her education. She was left
+      to pick up knowledge as best she could&mdash;the crumbs that fell from the
+      others' table&mdash;that was how she picked up French when the others came
+      back from school, and now she speaks it with the best of them... And so
+      shy! Tell me, if you can, how she got her knowledge of things&mdash;the
+      things in that book&mdash;the pictures red with life&mdash;the real
+      life-blood of men and women&mdash;love&mdash;emotion&mdash;pathos&mdash;all
+      that make up life&mdash;and don't forget the characterization&mdash;that's
+      what seems to me all but miraculous. Hogarth&mdash;we all know that
+      Hogarth drew his characters and fitted them into his pictures because he
+      made it a point to walk among them and look at them with observant eyes;
+      but tell me, if you can, what chance that child had of seeing anything;
+      and yet she has filled her canvas, and every bit is made up of firm, true
+      drawing. That is the chief wonder.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He spoke evidently under the impulse of a great excitement at first, not
+      looking at anyone in particular&mdash;just skimming them all with his eyes
+      as he paced the room. But he seemed gradually to recover himself as he
+      talked, and he appeared to address his last words to his wife. This
+      assisted her to recover herself also&mdash;a minute or so in advance of
+      him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You seem to be sure that Fanny wrote it,&rdquo; she said, when he had done. &ldquo;Is
+      it fair to condemn her before you make sure?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Everyone looked at Mrs. Burney; but only her husband laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Condemn her&mdash;condemn her for having written the finest novel since
+      Fielding?&rdquo; he said, with the laugh still on his face. There was no laugh
+      on hers; on the contrary, its expression was more serious than ever.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A novel is a novel,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I told Mr. Crisp&mdash;but that was only
+      about the reading of novels&mdash;the cleverer they are the more
+      mischievous&mdash;dangerous&mdash;even the reading&mdash;I never dreamt of
+      her going so far as to write one, clever or otherwise. But a novel is
+      still a novel&mdash;she must have neglected her duties in the house,
+      though I failed to observe it... and sending it to a bookseller without
+      saying a word to us! Who would have believed that a young woman with her
+      training&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It flashed across me when I read the verses addressed to myself at the
+      beginning that she had asked my permission some months ago, and that I had
+      given it&mdash;I did so laughing at the poor child's credulousness in
+      believing that any bookseller would print it for her and pay her for the
+      privilege&mdash;the privilege of making a thousand pounds out of her
+      book.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! are you serious?&mdash;a thousand pounds, did you say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Lowndes will make more than a thousand pounds by the sale of the book&mdash;Hetty
+      tells me that he only paid Fanny twenty for it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the world coming to&mdash;a fortune in a single book! And we
+      talked about her being portionless, when all the time she was more richly
+      endowed than all the rest of the family; for if she has written one book,
+      she can certainly write another equally remunerative. 'Perhaps she has
+      another ready for the printers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Burney was blessed with the capacity to look at matters, however
+      artistic they might be, from the standpoint of the practical housekeeper.
+      The mention of so sonorous a sum as a thousand pounds caused the scales of
+      prejudice to fall from the eyes through which she had regarded the act of
+      authorship, and at that instant she perceived that it should not be
+      thought of as a delinquency but as a merit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And, after all, it appeared that the girl had obtained the permission of
+      her father to print it&mdash;that put quite a different complexion upon
+      the transaction, did it not?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And a thousand pounds&mdash;that appealed to the good sense of a practical
+      person and swept away the last cobweb of prejudice that she had had
+      respecting novels and their writers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has she another book written, think you?&rdquo; she inquired in a tone full of
+      interest. &ldquo;Of course we shall see that she gets a better share of Mr.
+      Lowndes' thousand pounds than she did for her first.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She has not written a line since 'Evelina,'&rdquo; said Esther. &ldquo;To be sure, I
+      have not been her <i>confidante</i> since I got married, but I know that
+      she was so frightened at the thought of what she had done that she would
+      not write another page.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Frightened! What had she to be frightened about?&rdquo; cried Mrs. Burney in a
+      tone of actual amazement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Goodness knows,&rdquo; said Esther with a laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sound of the dinner-bell coming at that moment had about it also
+      something of the quality of a long, loud, sonorous outburst of laughter
+      with a cynical tinkle at the last.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The group in that room dissolved in all directions with exclamations of
+      dismay at being overtaken by the dinner-hour so unprepared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is all over now,&rdquo; said Susy to Lottie, when they were alone in their
+      room. &ldquo;I was afraid when she ushered us so formally into the library that
+      we would be forced to tell our secret.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I made up my mind that no torture of the rack or wild horses would unseal
+      my lips,&rdquo; said Susy, earnestly. &ldquo;Do you know, Lottie, I feel quite lonely
+      without our secret.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is just the same with me, dear,&rdquo; said Lottie. &ldquo;I feel as if I were
+      suddenly cut off from some great interest in life&mdash;as if I had gone
+      downstairs one morning and found that someone had stolen the piano. I
+      wonder if it was Hetty who told the padre.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Make haste and we shall soon learn all,&rdquo; said Susy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Before they had finished dinner they learned from their father how he had
+      got to the bottom of the secret that they had so cherished.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had gone as usual to give a music lesson to Queenie Thrale, and when
+      partaking of some refreshment before setting out for London, Mrs. Thrale
+      had talked to him in terms of the highest praise of &ldquo;Evelina.&rdquo; She had
+      read the book twice over, she told him, and had lent it to Dr. Johnson,
+      who could talk of nothing else. Then Mrs. Cholmondeley had arrived on a
+      visit to Thrale Hall, and she, too, was full of praise of the book. She,
+      too, had lent her copy to someone else&mdash;to no less important a person
+      than Mr. Edmund Burke, and he had declared himself as greatly captivated
+      by it as his friend Sir Joshua Reynolds had been. Everybody was talking
+      about it, and the question of the authorship had been as widely discussed
+      as before; Mrs. Cholmondeley had declared that she would give twenty
+      guineas to find out for certain who it was that had written the book.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Thrale had thereupon suggested that Dr. Burney was in a better
+      position than most people for solving the mystery, going about as he was
+      from one part of the town to another and being in close touch with all
+      manner of people.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I had not, as you know, so much as read the book for myself&mdash;I
+      seemed to be the only one in town who had not done so&mdash;and on getting
+      home I sent William post haste to Mr. Lowndes to purchase a set. This
+      done, I sat down to peruse the first volume. The page opened on the Ode;
+      it lay beneath my eyes, and I tell you truly that I did not seem to read
+      it: I seemed to hear Fanny's voice reading the verses in my ear, and the
+      truth came upon me in a flash&mdash;incredible though it appeared, I knew
+      that it was she who had written the book. Hetty came in before my eyes
+      were dry&mdash;she saw the volume in my hand, and she understood all. 'You
+      know,' was all that she said. I think that the greatest marvel was the
+      keeping of the secret of the book! To think of its being known to four
+      girls and never becoming too great for them to bear!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was appealing to his wife, but she only nodded a cold acquiescence in
+      his surprise. She remained silent, however, and this was something to be
+      grateful for, the girls thought: they knew just what she was thinking, and
+      they also knew that if they had some little trouble in keeping their
+      secret, she had very much more in restraining herself from uttering some
+      comment upon their reticence&mdash;their culpable reticence, she would
+      think it. They could see that she was greatly displeased at having been
+      excluded from their secret, since such an exclusion had forced her into a
+      false position more than once&mdash;notably in the presence of Mr. Crisp,
+      when she had become the assailant of novels and novel reading generally,
+      and also when she had scolded them on their return in the chaise. But they
+      were good girls, and they were ready to allow that they were in the wrong,
+      even though they did not think so: that is what really good girls do in
+      their desire for peace in their homes. And Lottie and Susy made up their
+      minds that should their stepmother tax them with double-dealing and
+      deceit, they would not try to defend themselves. The reflection that they
+      had kept their sister's secret would more than compensate them for any
+      possible humiliation they might suffer at Mrs. Burney's hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All that Mrs. Burney said at the conclusion of her husband's further
+      rhapsody about the marvel of Fanny's achievement, considering how she had
+      been generally thought the dunce of the family, was comprised in a few
+      phrases uttered in a hurt tone:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;While no one is more pleased than myself to witness her success, I cannot
+      but feel that she would have shown herself possessed of a higher sense of
+      her duty as a daughter if she had consulted her father or his wife in the
+      matter,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That may be true enough,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney; &ldquo;but if she had done so, would
+      she have achieved her purpose any more fully than she has, I ask you? No,
+      my dear, I do not feel, with any measure of certainty, that I would have
+      gone far in my encouragement of her efforts, nor do I think that you would
+      have felt it consistent with your principles to do so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was only referring to the question of a simple girl's duty in regard to
+      her parents,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And your judgment on that point is, I am certain, unassailable,&rdquo; said he.
+      &ldquo;But here we have a girl who is no simple girl, but a genius; and I think
+      that a good deal of latitude should be allowed to a genius&mdash;a little
+      departure from the hard and fast line of the duties expected from a simple
+      girl may be permitted in such a one as Fanny.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, she has succeeded in her aims&mdash;so much is plain,&rdquo; said Mrs.
+      Burney. &ldquo;But I hope that should any of her sisters set about a similar
+      enterprise&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But the ringing laughter that came from the sisters, their father joining
+      in with great heartiness, saved the need for her to complete her sentence.
+      At first she felt hurt, but she quickly yielded to the exuberant spirit
+      that pervaded the atmosphere of the room, and smiled indulgently, after
+      the manner of a staid elderly lady who is compelled to take part in the
+      romp of her girls and boys at Christmas time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She continued smiling, and the others continued laughing, and this spirit
+      of good humour was maintained until bedtime.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The girls knew that they would not be scolded for their participation in
+      Fanny's secret; for Fanny by her success had justified any amount of
+      double-dealing. If Fanny had made a fool of herself they would feel that
+      they deserved to participate in her scolding; but success is easily
+      pardoned, and so they rightly counted upon a general amnesty. What was it
+      that their father had said about a thousand pounds?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They went to bed quite happy, in spite of being deprived of the fearful
+      joy of having a secret to keep.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXXIII
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>R. BURNEY had
+      given instructions that Fanny was not to be communicated with at
+      Chessington until he had seen her; but that the third volume of the book
+      was to be sent to Mr. Crisp without delay. He was to go to Streatham again
+      in two days' time, and thence to Chessington, where he would make Mr.
+      Crisp aware of the identity of the writer of &ldquo;Evelina.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He anticipated an interesting hour with Mr. Crisp, but a very much more
+      interesting half-hour with Mrs. Thrale; for he meant, of course, to lose
+      no time in letting that lady into the secret: he knew that she would make
+      the most of the information he could impart to her; to be the first to
+      learn what all her friends were striving to learn would at once place her
+      above Mrs. Cholmondeley, who was willing to pay twenty guineas for the
+      knowledge, and even Mrs. Montagu, who was inclined to patronize Mrs.
+      Thrale and a good many other ladies, in spite of the fact that Dr. Johnson
+      dined usually five days out of every week with Mrs. Thrale, but had only
+      dined once with Mrs. Montagu since she had gone to her new house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Burney was well aware how valuable the Thrale connection was to him; a
+      teacher of music is apt to look with sparkling eyes at a houseful of girls
+      whose father possesses the possibilities of such wealth as was defined by
+      Dr. Johnson in this particular case as beyond the dreams of avarice. Dr.
+      Burney had a very nice judgment on the subject of an influential
+      connection, and so was delighted to have a chance of doing a signal good
+      turn to so deserving a patroness as Mrs. Thrale. Yes, he felt sure that
+      his half-hour at Streatham Hall would be the most interesting of the many
+      half-hours he had spent under the same hospitable roof.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And he was not mistaken in his surmise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Thrale had, as usual, several friends coming to partake of an early
+      repast with her; and Dr. Burney had pictured to himself the effect of his
+      announcement to the company that his daughter had written the book upon
+      which he was pretty sure the conversation would turn&mdash;indeed, he felt
+      that he would be greatly surprised if the conversation did not immediately
+      rush to the question of &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; and remain there for the rest of the
+      afternoon; for the enterprising ladies would doubtless bring with them
+      some fresh suggestions or new cues to its authorship. He pictured himself
+      allowing them to go on for some time until perhaps a statement would be
+      made which he should have to contradict point-blank. They would all look
+      at him in surprise. What did he know about the matter? Was he interested
+      in the question? Had he found out anything?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      How he would smile while saying quietly:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I am more or less interested in the matter, the fact being that
+      'Evelina' is the work of my daughter, Fanny Burney!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That would be, he thought, a fitting moment in which to divulge the
+      secret; he saw the whole scene clearly before him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But before he had reached his destination that intuition of what would
+      commend itself to a patron which had been so important an auxiliary to his
+      ability in placing him above his rivals in his profession, overcame his
+      desire to play the most important part in a dramatic scene; he perceived
+      that such a rôle should be taken by an influential patroness, and not by
+      himself. Thus it was that when Mrs. Thrale was giving him a cup of
+      chocolate after his journey he smiled, saying:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was greatly interested in the conversation between Mrs. Cholmondeley
+      and the other ladies when I was last here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About 'Evelina'?&rdquo; she inquired. &ldquo;Ah, I wonder if Mrs. Cholmondeley has
+      yet paid over her twenty guineas to the discoverer of the author. It seems
+      that he has as arduous a task in regard to 'Evelina' as Raleigh had in
+      regard to his El Dorado.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So it would appear,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney. &ldquo;Let us hope that his efforts will
+      be more highly valued than those of poor Sir Walter. Have you yourself no
+      suspicions on the subject, madam?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, suspicions? There have been as many suspicions set going on this
+      subject within the month as would be entertained only by the most
+      imaginative Bow Street runner. For my own part, I maintain that the book
+      could only have been writ by our friend Horace Walpole. He found that his
+      'Otranto' excited so much curiosity when published without a name, he came
+      to the conclusion that he would produce another novel with the same amount
+      of mystery attached to it. The only point against this assumption is that&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That the book was assuredly written by another person,&rdquo; said Burney,
+      smiling in a way that he designed to be somewhat enigmatical.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Thrale tried to interpret his smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What!&rdquo; she exclaimed, &ldquo;you have formed another theory&mdash;you&mdash;you
+      have heard something since you were last here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not something, madam&mdash;not a mere something, but everything&mdash;everything
+      that is to be known regarding the writer of that book.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is't possible? Who is your informant?&mdash;the value of all that you
+      have heard is dependent upon the accuracy of your informant.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The book was written by the person whom I fancied I knew best of all the
+      people in the world, and yet the last person whom I would believe capable
+      of such a feat. The author of the book&mdash;I am the author of her being&mdash;she
+      is none other than my daughter Fanny.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Thrale sat staring at him, one arm resting upon the table, her lips
+      parted as if about to utter an exclamation of surprise, but unable to do
+      so by reason of her surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      More than a minute had passed before she was able to speak, and then she
+      could do no more than repeat his words.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your daughter Fanny&mdash;your daughter&mdash;but is not Fanny the little
+      shy one that goes into a corner when you have company?&rdquo; she asked, in a
+      tone that suggested that she had heard something too ridiculous to be
+      believed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is that one, madam,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;It would seem as if the corner of a
+      room has its advantages in enabling one to observe life from a true
+      standpoint. Two eyes looking out from a corner with a brain behind them&mdash;there
+      you have the true writer of a novel of life and character. Poor Fanny! How
+      often have not I talked of her as 'poor Fanny'? She had no education
+      except what she contrived to pick up haphazard&mdash;a sweet child&mdash;a
+      lovable daughter, but the last person in the world to be suspected of such
+      a book as 'Evelina.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are sure, sir&mdash;you have seen&mdash;heard&mdash;you know?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Beyond any doubt. Her sisters were let into the secret, but neither of
+      her parents. I know now why that was&mdash;no want of duty&mdash;no lack
+      of respect&mdash;she began the book for her own amusement, and it grew
+      under her hand; she sent it to a bookseller, more as a jest than in the
+      belief that anything would come of it, and up to the last it was treated
+      by her and her sisters as a schoolroom mystery&mdash;a nursery secret&mdash;and
+      Mrs. Burney and I were kept out of it solely because we were not of the
+      nursery or the schoolroom. And when it became a serious matter we were
+      excluded because they were afraid to reveal it to us&mdash;Fanny herself,
+      dear child!&mdash;feared that we would be concerned if it were stillborn.
+      It was only when it was at the point of being published by Mr. Lowndes
+      that she came to me saying that she had been writing something and wanted
+      my leave to send it forth, promising that no name would appear upon the
+      title page. I gave my leave with a smile, and when I had my laugh at the
+      innocence of the girl in fancying that any bookseller would pay for the
+      printing of what she might scribble, I forgot all about the matter. It was
+      only when I sent for the book and read the Ode addressed to myself that I
+      seemed to hear Fanny's voice speaking the words in my ear&mdash;I told the
+      others so when they returned from visiting her at Chessington. But
+      meantime Esther had come to me, and she told me all that was known to her
+      about the book and its secret.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The most wonderful story ever known&mdash;more wonderful than the story
+      of Evelina herself!&rdquo; cried Mrs. Thrale. &ldquo;How people&mdash;Mrs.
+      Cholmondeley and the rest&mdash;will lift up their hands! Who among them
+      will believe it all possible? List, my dear doctor, you must bring her to
+      me in the first instance&mdash;all the others will be clamouring for her
+      to visit them&mdash;I know them! You must bring her to me without delay&mdash;why
+      not to-day? I can easily send a chaise for her&mdash;a coach if necessary.
+      Well, if not to-day, to-morrow. I must have her here. We will understand
+      each other&mdash;she and I; and Dr. Johnson will be with us&mdash;quite a
+      little company&mdash;for dinner. You will promise me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Be assured, dear madam, that there is no house apart from her home where
+      I feel she would be happier than in this,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney. &ldquo;She has often
+      expressed the warmest admiration for you, and I know that her dearest wish
+      is to be on terms of intimacy with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The sweet girl! she shall have her dearest wish gratified to the fullest
+      extent, sir. You will bring her as early to-morrow as it suits you. Good
+      heavens! to think of that dear retiring child taking the town by storm!
+      Dr. Johnson wrote to me no later than last evening, expressing once more
+      his delight in reading the book, and Mr. Burke, too&mdash;but you heard
+      about Mr. Burke. I will never forget your courtesy in telling me first of
+      all your friends that she was the author, dear doctor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If not you, madam, whom would I have told?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall be ever grateful. You will give me leave to make the revelation
+      to my friends who will be here to-day?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is open for you to tell them all that I have told you, my dear madam;
+      and you may truthfully add that if the writing of the book will bring her
+      into closer intimacy with Mrs. Thrale, the author will feel that it has
+      not been written in vain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He made his lowest bow on rising from the table to receive his pupil, who
+      entered the room at that moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had confidence that he was right in his intuition that his patroness
+      would act with good effect the rôle which he had relinquished in her
+      favour, when her friends would arrive in another hour for their
+      &ldquo;collation;&rdquo; and he was ready to allow that none could have played the
+      part more neatly than she did when the time came to prove how much
+      better-informed she was than the rest of the world. She might have been
+      possessed of the knowledge that Miss Burney was the writer of &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo;
+       from the first, from the easy and natural way in which she said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pray do not trouble yourselves telling me what Mrs. Cholmondeley said to
+      Mr. Lowndes, or what Mr. Lowndes said to someone else about the writer of
+      the novel; for it happens that I know, and have known for&mdash;for some
+      time the name of the author.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There were a few little exclamations of surprise, and a very pretty
+      uplifting of several pairs of jewelled hands at this calm announcement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes,&rdquo; she continued, &ldquo;the writer is a friend of my own, and the
+      daughter of one of my most valued friends, and if any people talk to you
+      in future of 'Evelina' being the work of Mr. Walpole or Mr. Anstey or any
+      man of letters, pay no attention to these astute investigators, but tell
+      them that I said the book is the work of Miss Fanny Burney, one of the
+      daughters of the celebrated Dr. Charles Burney, himself the author of a
+      'History of Music' that will live so long as the English language has a
+      literature of its own.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Thrale did it all with amazing neatness, Dr. Burney thought; and the
+      attempt that she made to conceal the expression of triumph in the glance
+      that she gave to her guests let him know that his tact had been exercised
+      in the right direction. Mrs. Thrale was not the woman to forget that he
+      had given her such a chance of proving to her friends how intimate was her
+      association with the literary history of the day. She had been for several
+      years the patroness of Dr. Johnson, who had written the best dictionary,
+      and now she was about to take under her protection Miss Burney, who had
+      written the best novel. He knew that Mrs. Thrale was almost as glad to be
+      able to reveal the secret of &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; as if she had written the book
+      herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And everyone else at the table felt that Mrs. Thrale was indeed an
+      amazingly clever woman; and wondered how Mrs. Cholmondeley would feel when
+      she had learned that she had been forestalled in her quest after the
+      information on which she had placed a value of twenty guineas.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXXIV
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T had all come to
+      her now. She had had her dreams from time to time when working at her
+      novel&mdash;dreams of recognition&mdash;of being received on terms of
+      equality by some of the lesser literary people who had visited the house
+      in St. Martin's Street, and had gone away praising the musical talents of
+      her sisters, but leaving her unnoticed. Her aspirations had been humble,
+      but it seemed to her so stupid to be stupid in the midst of a brilliant
+      household, that she longed to be able to do something that would, at
+      least, cause their visitors of distinction to glance into her corner and
+      recognize her name when it was spoken in their hearing. That was all she
+      longed for at first&mdash;to be recognized as &ldquo;the one who writes,&rdquo; as
+      people recognized &ldquo;the one who plays.&rdquo; But since Signor Rauzzini had come
+      upon the scene her ambitions had widened. She dreamt not merely of
+      recognition, but of distinction, so that he might be proud of her, and
+      that she might not merely be spoken of as the wife of the Roman singer.
+      That dream of hers had invariably been followed by a feeling of depression
+      as she reflected upon the improbability of its ever being realized, and if
+      it should not be realized, all hope of happiness would pass from her life.
+      Thus it was that for some months she had lived with the cold finger of
+      despair constantly pressing upon her heart. She was so practical&mdash;so
+      reasonable&mdash;that she could never yield herself up to the fascination
+      of the Fool's Paradise of dreams; she was ready to estimate her chances of
+      literary success, and the result of the operation was depressing. How
+      could any young woman who had seen so little of life, and who had been so
+      imperfectly educated, have any hope to be received as a writer of
+      distinction? What claim to distinction could such a girl as she advance in
+      the face of the competition that was going on around her in every branch
+      of distinctive work?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For some months her good sense and her clear head were her greatest
+      enemies; evermore bringing her back to the logic of a life in which
+      everything is represented by figures, from a great artistic success to a
+      butcher's bill&mdash;a life in which dreams play a part of no greater
+      significance than the splendid colours clinging about the West in the
+      unalterable routine of the setting sun.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Many times she had awakened in the night to weep as she felt the
+      bitterness of defeat; for her book had been given to the world and the
+      world had received it as the sea receives a stone that is flung upon its
+      surface. That simile of the stone and the sea was constantly recurring to
+      her, and every time she saw that it was weak&mdash;that it fell short of
+      meeting her case, for her book had made no stir whatsoever in the world,
+      whereas a stone, however small it might be, could not be given to the sea
+      without creating some stir on the surface of the waters.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then, quite unexpectedly, had come a whisper from the world to tell
+      her that her book had not been submerged: the whisper had increased in
+      volume until it had sounded in her ears like a shout of acclamation,
+      telling her that the reality had far surpassed her most sanguine dreams,
+      and that common-sense reasoning is sometimes farther astray in its
+      operation than are the promptings of the most unreasonable ambition.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      These were her rose-tinted reflections while driving with her father from
+      Chessington to Streatham, a journey which represented to her the passing
+      from obscurity to distinction, the crossing of the Jordan and the entering
+      into the Land of Promise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny Burney has herself told the story of her father's coming to her at
+      Chessington, and of her dear old friend's reception of the marvellous news
+      that Dr. Burney brought to him&mdash;of the phrases which she overheard
+      while the two men were in a room together&mdash;the incredulous
+      exclamations&mdash;&ldquo;Wonderful&mdash;it's wonderful!&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Why, she has
+      had very little education but what she has given herself&mdash;less than
+      any of the others&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;The variety of characters&mdash;the variety of
+      scenes, and the language&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Wonderful!&rdquo; And then Mr. Crisp's meeting
+      her, catching her by the hands as she was going in to supper, and crying,
+      &ldquo;Why, you little hussy, ain't you ashamed to look me in the face you&mdash;you
+      'Evelina,' you! Why, what a dance you have led me about it!&rdquo; Miss Burney
+      has brought the scene vividly before our eyes in her Diary.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was one of the happiest days of her life; she saw the pride with which
+      her father regarded her, for Dr. Burney was a practical man who valued
+      achievement as it deserved, and was, besides, the best of fathers, and the
+      most anxious to advance the interests of his children. He looked with
+      pride upon his daughter, and talked of her having made Mr. Lowndes a
+      wealthy man. His estimate of her earning powers had increased: he now
+      declared that even if Lowndes had paid a thousand pounds for the book, his
+      profits off it would enable him to buy an estate!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the happiest evening of her life; and now she was in the chaise
+      with her beloved father, driving to Streatham, where they were to dine,
+      and Dr. Johnson was to be of the party. This meant more than recognition,
+      it meant the Land of Promise of her ambitious dreams.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had many matters to reflect upon at this time, but all her reflections
+      led to the one point&mdash;her next meeting with Rauzzini. The truth that
+      had been revealed to her among Sir Joshua Reynolds' superb canvases, that
+      love was more than all else that the world could give her, remained before
+      her, as a luminous fixed star, to be a guide to her life; and the
+      happiness that she now felt was due to the thought that she could go to
+      the man whom she loved, without a misgiving, without fearing that he would
+      hear those dreaded voices of the world saying that he had been a fool to
+      ally himself with a nonentity, or that she would hear the whispers of
+      those who might suggest that she had done very well for herself. She had
+      long before made her resolution only to go to him when she could do so on
+      terms of equality. At that time her resolution seemed to shut her out from
+      all chances of happiness; she knew this, but at the same time she believed
+      that it would shut both of them out from every chance of unhappiness; and
+      so she had allowed it to dominate her life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That was where her common-sense and her reasonableness had their way,
+      prevailing over that blind impulse which she now and again had, to trust
+      to chance&mdash;and love&mdash;to overcome every other consideration, and
+      to give her lover and herself happiness solely by being together. It was
+      such impulses as this that caused love to be referred to as blind. But she
+      was now ready to thank heaven for having given her strength to overcome it
+      and so to give the victory to reason and good sense.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She made up her mind to write to him before she slept that very night,
+      telling him what her resolution had been&mdash;he had called it a mystery,
+      not knowing anything about it&mdash;and asking him to rejoice with her
+      that she had been able to maintain it, so that the barrier which she had
+      seen between them was now swept away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come to me&mdash;come to me&rdquo;&mdash;that would be the burden of her letter
+      to him; she would send it to him and he would come.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The thought made her lean back among the cushions of the chaise and shut
+      her eyes, the better to enclose the vision of happiness that came from her
+      heart. He would come to her and her happiness would be complete.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So she arrived with her father at Thrale Hall and was welcomed by Mrs.
+      Thrale in the porch. When she had made her toilet for dinner she was shown
+      into the drawing-room. As she entered, she was conscious of the presence
+      of several men, and the one nearest to her was, she saw, Signor Rauzzini.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All the men in the room were looking toward her except Rauzzini. He was
+      standing by the side of a small table, presenting his profile to her, and
+      his eyes were gazing across the room at a picture that hung between the
+      windows, a frown on his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was startled, and the blood rushed to her cheeks. It would have done
+      so on her entering the room, even if she had not been surprised to see her
+      lover there when she believed him to be still in France.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had stopped before reaching the middle of the room, and then she was
+      hidden from the view of everybody by a huge mass of manhood in the person
+      of Dr. Johnson. He seemed inclined to embrace her; and as he swung himself
+      close to her, there was no one in the room that had not a moment of
+      trepidation lest he should fall over her and crush her flat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Thrale tripped alongside Fanny, as if ready to die with her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, come, Dr. Johnson,&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;I have no intention of allowing you
+      to monopolize Miss Burney, for that I perceive is your desire. The
+      gentlemen must be presented to her in proper form.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Madam,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;I understood clearly that Miss Burney was coming hither
+      for myself alone, and I have no mind to share so precious a morsel with
+      others. Miss Burney and I are old friends, give me leave to say; I have
+      more than once been interested in a book in the room where she was sitting
+      in her father's house. Come to my arms, Miss Burney, and we shall laugh
+      together at the jealous glances the others cast at me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Burney will sit beside you at dinner, sir, and that must suffice you
+      for the present,&rdquo; said Mrs. Thrale, taking Fanny by the hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Johnson had succeeded, after more than one ineffectual attempt, in
+      grasping Miss Burney's left hand, and in his ponderous playfulness, he
+      refused to relinquish it, so that she had to make her curtsies to the
+      gentlemen with Mrs. Thrale on one side of her and Johnson on the other.
+      There was Mr. Seward and Sir Joshua Reynolds, and two others besides
+      Signor Rauzzini. Each of them had a compliment to offer her, and did so
+      very pleasantly and with great tact.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now that is done, Miss Burney and I can sit together on the sofa, and she
+      will tell me why she loves the Scotch and I will scold her for it,&rdquo; said
+      Johnson complacently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, sir, Miss Burney has not yet greeted Signor Rauzzini,&rdquo; said Mrs.
+      Thrale. &ldquo;You and Miss Burney are already acquainted, I know, Signor
+      Rauzzini, though you did fancy that she was one of the musical girls of
+      St. Martin's Street.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rauzzini took a single step away from the table at which he had remained
+      immovable, and bowed low, without speaking a word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny responded. They were separated by at least three yards.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dinner is on the table, sir,&rdquo; announced a servant from the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not sorry,&rdquo; said Johnson. &ldquo;Mrs. Thrale gave me a solemn promise that
+      Miss Burney should sit next to me. That was why I kept my eye on Miss
+      Burney.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And hand too, sir,&rdquo; remarked Mr. Seward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, yes, sir, and hand too, if you insist,&rdquo; said Johnson. &ldquo;And let me
+      tell you, sir, that a Lichfield man will keep his hand on anything he
+      wishes to retain when another Lichfield man is in the same room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His laughter set the ornaments on the mantelpiece a-jingling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And they went in to dinner before the echoes had died away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Thrale kept her promise, and Fanny was placed next to Johnson. But
+      even then he did not let go her hand. He held it in one of his own and
+      patted it gently with the other. Fanny glanced down the table and saw that
+      the eyes of the young Roman were looking in her direction, and that they
+      were flaming. What could he mean, she wondered. She had been at first
+      amazed at his bearing toward her in the drawing-room; but after a moment's
+      thought, she had supposed that he had assumed that distant manner to
+      prevent anyone from suspecting the intimacy there was between them. But
+      what could that angry look in his eyes portend? Was it possible that he
+      could be jealous of Dr. Johnson's awkward attention to her?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was greatly troubled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But if he had, indeed, resented Johnson's attention to her, such a plea
+      was no longer valid after the first dish had been served, for in an
+      instant Johnson's attention was transferred, with increased force, to the
+      plate before him, and during the solid part of the meal, at least, it was
+      never turned in any other direction. Poor Fanny had never seen him eat,
+      nor had she the same privilege in respect of Mr. Thrale. But she needed
+      all the encouragement that her hostess could afford her to enable her to
+      make even the most moderate meal while such distractions were in her
+      immediate neighbourhood; and she came to the conclusion that she had been
+      ridiculously fastidious over the prodigious tea and its service at Mr.
+      Barlowe's in the Poultry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Mrs. Thrale was as tactful and as chatty as ever, and Mr. Seward made
+      pleasant conversation for her, sitting, as he did, on the other side from
+      Johnson. When Johnson was eating, his fellow guests understood that their
+      chance was come to express their views without a dread of being
+      contradicted by him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But from the feebleness of her contribution to the chat of the table, Mrs.
+      Thrale as well as Mr. Seward perceived that all they had been told about
+      the timidity of little Miss Burney was even less than the truth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But for that matter, Signor Rauzzini, who had been placed between Mrs.
+      Thrale and Dr. Burney, was found by both of them to be also singularly
+      averse from joining in the conversation, whether in reply to Burney, who
+      addressed him in Italian, or to his hostess, who spoke French to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As Mrs. Thrale talked a good deal herself, however, she rose with an
+      impression that there had been no especial lack of brilliancy at the
+      table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She took Fanny away with her, her determination being that if she should
+      fail to draw this shy young creature out of her shell, she would at any
+      rate convince her that her hostess was deserving of the reputation which
+      she enjoyed for learning, combined with vivacity, so that their
+      companionship could not be otherwise than profitable after all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXXV
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T was not yet six
+      o'clock and the sun was not due to set for more than another hour. The
+      evening was a lovely one. From the shrubberies around the house came the
+      liquid notes of countless blackbirds and thrushes, and above the trees of
+      the park the cawing of the rooks as they wheeled above their nests and
+      settled upon the branches.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We shall sit on the terrace for half an hour, if you have a mind to,&rdquo;
+       said Mrs. Thrale, taking Fanny through the drawing-room into a smaller
+      room that opened upon a long terrace above the beds of the flower-garden.
+      Here were several seats and a small table bearing writing materials.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here I do most of my correspondence in the summer,&rdquo; said Mrs. Thrale.
+      &ldquo;Sitting at that table in the open air, I have few distractions, unless I
+      choose to accept the birds as such; and here I hope you will begin a new
+      novel, or better still, a comedy that Mr. Sheridan will produce, with Mrs.
+      Abington in her most charming gowns&mdash;you must give your namesake a
+      chance of wearing a whole trunkful of gowns.&rdquo; They seated themselves, and
+      Mrs. Thrale continued:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now I have confided in you how I do my simple work, and I wish to hear
+      from you by what means you found time to write your novel. That is the
+      greatest secret of all associated with 'Evelina'&mdash;so your father
+      thinks. Mrs. Burney I always knew as a model housekeeper&mdash;a model
+      manager of a family, and how you could contrive to write a single page
+      without her knowledge is what baffles me as well as your father.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To tell you all would, I fear, be to confess to a lifetime of duplicity,&rdquo;
+       said Fanny. &ldquo;I am sometimes shocked now when I reflect upon my
+      double-dealing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me how you first came to stray from the paths of virtue&mdash;such a
+      story is invariably interesting,&rdquo; said Mrs. Thrale.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My story is like all the others,&rdquo; replied Fanny. &ldquo;I only meant to turn
+      aside a little way, but soon I lost myself and I knew that there was no
+      retracing my steps.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Alas, alas, the old story!&rdquo; said Mrs. Thrale, with a long-drawn sigh.
+      &ldquo;Well, happily, you were not able to retrace your steps.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I had no idea that the story would grow upon me as it did,&rdquo; said Fanny.
+      &ldquo;I really only meant it to be a diversion for our dear friend, Mr. Crisp,
+      and an exercise for myself. I wrote a scrap now and again at odd moments&mdash;when
+      I was supposed to be writing to Mr. Crisp, or copying out my father's
+      notes for his History, at home as well as at Ches-sington, and when I was
+      staying at Lynn; and so the thing grew and grew until I was afraid to look
+      at what I had perpetrated.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are paraphrasing <i>Macbeth</i>, my dear: 'I am afeared to think what
+      I have done: Look on't again I dare not,'&rdquo; said the elder lady. &ldquo;But with
+      all you were able to prepare your father's great work for the press&mdash;he
+      told me as much; so that what your double-dealing comes to is that you did
+      his writing as well as your own, and at the same time neglected none of
+      your ordinary household duties&mdash;if you had done so Mrs. Burney would
+      have informed you of it, I have no doubt. An excellent housewife, Mrs.
+      Burney! And now you shall tell me how you contrived to bring together so
+      marvellous a group of characters&mdash;you who have lived so short a time
+      in the world, and had so small an amount of experience.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should like someone to answer that question for me,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;It
+      was not until I read the book in print that I began to be surprised at it,
+      and to wonder how it came to be written and how those characters had found
+      their way into it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But this question was too interesting a one not to be pursued by Mrs.
+      Thrale; and for half an hour she put inquiry after inquiry to Fanny
+      respecting the characters, the incidents and the language of &ldquo;Evelina.&rdquo;
+       Mrs. Thrale was certainly determined to place herself in a position to
+      prove to her friends that Miss Burney had made a <i>confidante</i> of her
+      in all matters, down to the smallest detail of the book.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In ordinary circumstances Fanny would have been delighted to give her her
+      confidence in regard to these particulars&mdash;she had always a childlike
+      pleasure in talking about her books&mdash;but at this time she only did so
+      with a great effort. For while Mrs. Thrale was plying her with questions
+      about &ldquo;Evelina,&rdquo; there was ever before Fanny the unanswered question as to
+      what Rauzzini meant by his coldness and formality both before dinner and
+      during that meal. What did he mean by looking at her with that reproachful
+      frown upon his face? What did he mean by averting his eyes from her when
+      he had a chance of exchanging confidences with her, as he had often done
+      before? What did he mean by sitting at the table without addressing a
+      single word to her?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      These were the questions which she was struggling in vain to answer to her
+      own satisfaction all the time that Mrs. Thrale was putting inquiry after
+      inquiry to her upon a matter that Fanny now regarded as insignificant
+      compared with the one that she was trying to answer for herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Thrale was just beginning a series of questions on the subject of the
+      comedy which she meant Miss Burney to write, when a servant appeared with
+      a message for the former.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tiresome!&rdquo; exclaimed Fanny's hostess, rising. &ldquo;Here is some insignificant
+      household matter that can only be dealt with by the mistress&mdash;summer
+      frocks for two girls: the carrier has brought some boxes&mdash;the summer
+      has come upon us before spring has prepared us for its arrival, and there
+      has been a despairing cry heard in the nursery. I need not excuse myself
+      to you, Miss Burney. You will spare me for ten minutes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Burney hoped that the feeling of relief of which she was conscious
+      did not show itself on her face, when she expressed the hope that Mrs.
+      Thrale would not think of her; she would be quite happy with the birds.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And the comedy&mdash;do not forget the comedy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Burney laughed, but before her hostess had reached the door leading
+      off the terrace, she was once more immersed in that question:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What does he mean by his change of attitude in regard to me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was serious&mdash;so much she knew. He had heard something that had
+      caused him to change. But what could he have heard? What manner of man was
+      he that would allow himself to be so influenced by anything that he might
+      hear against her, without first coming to her for an explanation?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her mind went back to the evening when they had first met. It was in St.
+      Martin's Street. He was there on the invitation of Dr. Burney: but it
+      seemed that he had become conscious of a sympathy existing between her and
+      himself, for he had remained by her side for a full hour while the others
+      in the room were singing and playing on the piano, and he had held her
+      hand at parting, expressing the hope, which his eyes confirmed, that they
+      would soon meet again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And they had met again and again until one evening they found themselves
+      alone in an anteroom to the apartment where a musical programme was being
+      performed at a great house. Then he had told her that his happiness
+      depended on her returning the love which he bore her; and startled though
+      she had been, yet when he took her hand all her shyness seemed to vanish
+      and she confessed....
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A sound behind her only served to make her memory seem more vivid, for it
+      was his voice that reached her ear and it was singing the same aria that
+      he had come from singing on that evening&mdash;the passionate &ldquo;<i>Lascia
+      ch'io pianga</i>&rdquo; of Handel. Once more she was listening to the strains&mdash;they
+      came from one of the rooms that opened upon the terrace&mdash;and now the
+      chords of the accompaniment were struck with a vehemence that had been
+      absent from her father's playing to Rauzzini's singing upon that occasion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She listened as if in a dream while the noble, despairing strain went on
+      to its close, and the melody sobbed itself into silence&mdash;a silence
+      that the birds among the roses seemed unwilling to break, for only an
+      occasional note of a thrush was in the air....
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She heard the sound of the door opening a little way down the terrace&mdash;of
+      a foot upon the flagged path. She did not raise her head, but she knew
+      that he was there&mdash;only a few yards away from her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Through the silence there came the cawing of rooks far away among the
+      trees of the park.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then all at once she heard his sudden exclamation of surprise. He had not
+      seen her at first; he saw her now.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>Dio mio! ella è qui!</i>&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Still she did not turn her head toward him. More than a minute had passed
+      before she heard his slow steps as he approached her. He was beside her
+      for quite as long before he spoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did not know that you were here,&rdquo; he said in a low voice. &ldquo;But I am
+      glad. It is but right that I should say good-bye to you alone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she looked up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why&mdash;why&mdash;why?&rdquo; she cried almost piteously. &ldquo;Why should you say
+      good-bye? What has made the change in you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is not I who have changed: it is you,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;I loved the sweet,
+      modest, untarnished jewel of a girl&mdash;a pearl hidden away from the
+      sight of men in a dim sea-cave&mdash;a violet&mdash;ah, I told you how I
+      loved the violet that hides itself from every eye&mdash;that was what you
+      were when I loved you, and I hoped to return to your side and find you the
+      same. Well, I return and&mdash;ah, where is the exquisite shrinking one
+      that I looked for? Gone&mdash;gone&mdash;gone for ever, and in her place I
+      find one whose name is in every mouth&mdash;not a soft, gentle girl, but a
+      woman who has put her heart into a book&mdash;<i>Dio mio!</i> A woman who
+      puts her heart into a book is like a woman who disrobes in a public place&mdash;worse&mdash;worse&mdash;she
+      exposes a heart that should be sacred&mdash;feelings that it would be a
+      gross indelicacy to exhibit to the eyes of man!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And that is how you think of me on account of what I have done?&rdquo; said
+      she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How can I think anything else?&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;I told you that I loved you
+      because you were so unlike others&mdash;because you were like a child for
+      timidity and innocence of the world. I told you on that last evening we
+      were together how greatly I admired the act of Miss Linley in turning her
+      back upon the platform where she had sung and vowing never to return to it&mdash;that
+      was what I told you I loved&mdash;I who have seen how the nature&mdash;the
+      womanly charm of every woman suffers by reason of her appealing to the
+      public for money&mdash;for applause. That beautiful creature forsook the
+      platform before it was too late&mdash;before the evil influence could work
+      her ruin. But you&mdash;what do I hear the day I return to England?&mdash;you
+      have put your heart&mdash;your soul, into a book that causes your name to
+      be tossed about from mouth to mouth&mdash;Fanny Burney&mdash;Fanny Burney&mdash;Fanny
+      Burney&mdash;I hear that name, which I regarded as sacred, spoken as
+      freely as men speak the name of their Kitty Fisher&mdash;their Polly
+      Kennedy&mdash;their Fanny Abington! These are public characters&mdash;so
+      are you&mdash;oh, my God! so are you. You should have heard how you were
+      discussed in that room behind us before you arrived to-day&mdash;that
+      gross man Johnson&mdash;he called you by a dozen pet names as if he had a
+      right&mdash;'Fan'&mdash;'Fannikin'&mdash;I know not what&mdash;' a shy
+      rogue '&mdash;that was another! They laughed! They did not see the
+      degradation of it. You were a toy of the public&mdash;the vulgar crowd!
+      Ah, you saw how that gross man, who fed himself as a wolf, tucked you
+      under his arm and the others only smiled! Oh, I was shocked&mdash;shocked!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I felt proud&mdash;prouder than I have felt in my life,&rdquo; said she.
+      &ldquo;But now I see what I have lost&mdash;forfeited. Listen to me and I will
+      tell you what my dream was. I had written that book, but I had no hope of
+      printing it until I met you and heard from your lips&mdash;all that I
+      heard.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was the truth&mdash;then: I loved you&mdash;then.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I knew that it was the truth. But who was I that I should be beloved by
+      you? I felt that it would be unendurable to me to hear people refer to us&mdash;as
+      I knew they would&mdash;the great singer who had stooped to a nonentity.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! that was the charm!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who except you would have said so? I knew what they would say, and I made
+      up my mind that I would not go to you except as an equal. I wanted you to
+      marry someone of whom you would feel proud, and I thought that I had a
+      little gift which I would lay at your feet. I did my best to perfect it
+      for your sake; but even when the book was printed I would not give you my
+      promise until I had assured myself that the gift would be pronounced
+      worthy of your acceptance. That was why I put you off for so many months.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, that was your mystery&mdash;you called it a mystery.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That was my secret&mdash;my mystery. Never mind; I thought that my hope
+      was realized when everyone about me was talking of the book and when
+      people whose opinion was valuable had said it was good&mdash;my one
+      thought, God knows, was that I could go to you&mdash;that I could make you
+      happy, since I should be thought by the world to be in some measure at
+      least, worthy of you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My poor child! you have not made me happy, but miserable. No one can make
+      me happy now. I do not love you now&mdash;you are a different person now,
+      and you can never return to be what you were. That is the worst of all:
+      you can never return to your former innocence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can bear to hear you say even that; for now I perceive the mistake I
+      made. I should not have thought of the difference between us: I should
+      only have had one thought&mdash;that you had offered me your love and that
+      I was ready to offer you my love. That should have been enough for me. You
+      were right, I was wrong. Good-bye.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked at her for a few moments&mdash;tears were in his eyes and on his
+      cheeks&mdash;then he turned away with a passionate gesture, crying in his
+      native tongue:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mother&mdash;mother in heaven! I loved her because she was of a nature
+      the same as yours&mdash;saint-like as a lily&mdash;shrinking from the
+      world&mdash;in the world but having nothing in common with the world. I
+      loved her because I thought that she was as you were. I will not be a
+      traitor to your ideal&mdash;to your memory.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He returned to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am alone in the world; but I know that the spirit of that saint, my
+      mother, looks down upon me from her heaven, and will comfort me. My heart
+      is broken. <i>Addio! Addio!</i> I do not mean to be cruel&mdash;tell me
+      that you do not accuse me of being cruel!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not accuse you. I think I understand you&mdash;that is all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>Addio&mdash;addio&mdash;addio!</i>&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The sound of his voice grew less with every word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was alone in the silence of the twilight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Not for long, however. She heard the voice of Mrs. Thrale in the room
+      behind her, followed by the protests of Dr. Johnson.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Burney and I want to have an undisturbed talk together about writing
+      books,&rdquo; Mrs. Thrale was saying as she came out upon the terrace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Books, madam; any fool can talk of books, and a good many fools avail
+      themselves of the licence,&rdquo; cried Johnson. &ldquo;Miss Burney and I are going to
+      talk about life. Books are not life, Miss Burney.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir,&rdquo; said Miss Burney slowly; &ldquo;books are not life&mdash;books are
+      not life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <h3>
+      THE END
+    </h3>
+    <div style="height: 6em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+
+<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 51922 ***</div>
+  </body>
+</html>
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Fanny's First Novel, by Frank Frankfort Moore
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
+other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
+the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
+www.gutenberg.org.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
+to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
+
+
+
+Title: Fanny's First Novel
+
+Author: Frank Frankfort Moore
+
+Release Date: May 1, 2016 [EBook #51922]
+Last Updated: March 13, 2018
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FANNY'S FIRST NOVEL ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Widger from page images generously
+provided by the Internet Archive
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+FANNY'S FIRST NOVEL
+
+By Frank Frankfort Moore.
+
+Author of “The Jessamy Bride,” “A Nest of Linnets,” “I Forbid the
+'Banns,” Etc.
+
+London: Hutchinson & Co. Paternoster Row, E. C.
+
+1913
+
+
+[Illustration: 0001]
+
+
+[Illustration: 0009]
+
+
+
+
+
+FANNY'S FIRST NOVEL
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+|INDEED, I am not quite assured in my mind that the influence of Mr.
+Garrick upon such a family as ours is healthy,” said Mrs. Burney, when
+the breakfast cups had been removed and the maid had left the room
+in the little house in St. Martin's Street, off Leicester Fields. Dr.
+Burney, the music-master, had not to hurry away this day: his first
+lesson did not begin until noon; it was to be given at the mansion of
+Mr. Thrale, the brewer, at Streatham, and the carriage was not to
+call for him for another hour. He was glancing at the _Advertiser_ in
+unaccustomed indolence, but when his wife had spoken he glanced up from
+the paper and an expression of amused surprise was upon his face. His
+daughter Fanny glanced up from the work-basket which her mother had
+placed ready for her the moment that the breakfast-table had been
+cleared, and the expression upon little Miss Burney's face was one that
+had something of fright in it. She was too short-sighted to see the wink
+which her brother James, lieutenant in His Majesty's navy, gave her, for
+their stepmother had her back turned to him. But Mrs. Burney, without
+seeing him, knew that, as he himself would phrase it, he had tipped
+Fanny a wink. She turned quickly round upon him, and if she had
+previously any doubt on this point, it was at once dispelled by the
+solemnity of his face.
+
+Dr. Burney gave a laugh.
+
+“The influence of Mr. Garrick is like that of the air we breathe,” said
+he. “It is not to be resisted by the age we live in, leaving family
+matters out of the question altogether: the Burney family must inhale
+as much of the spirit of Mr. Garrick as the rest of the town-they cannot
+help themselves, _ces pauvres Burneys!_ they cannot live without Mr.
+Garrick.”
+
+Mrs. Burney shook her head solemnly; so did Lieutenant James Burney, for
+he had all his life been under the influence of Mr. Garrick, when the
+atmosphere brought by Mr. Garrick was one of comedy.
+
+“My meaning is that Mr. Garrick is not content to allow simple people
+such as ourselves to live as simple people,” said Mrs. Burney. “I
+protest that I have felt it: the moment he enters our house we seem to
+be in a new world-whatsoever world it is his whim to carry us to.”
+
+“That is the truth, my dear-he can do what he pleases with us and with
+all the thousands who have flocked to his playhouse since his Goodman's
+Fields days--he has made a fortune as a courier; transporting people
+to another world for an hour or two every night--a world that is less
+humdrum than this in which four beats go to every bar and every crotchet
+goes to a beat! Dear soul! he has made our hearts beat at times beyond
+all computation of time and space.”
+
+“You will herring-bone the edges neatly, Fanny: I noticed some lack of
+neatness in the last of the napery that left your hand, my dear,” said
+Mrs. Burney, bending over her stepdaughter at her work-basket; and,
+indeed, it seemed that the caution was not unnecessary, for Fanny's eyes
+were gleaming and she was handling her work with as great indifference
+(for the moment) as though she esteemed plain sewing something of
+drudgery rather than a delight. And now, having administered her timely
+caution, the good lady turned to her husband, saying:
+
+“To my mind what you have claimed for Mr. Garrick but adds emphasis to
+my contention that his visits have a disturbing influence upon a homely
+family, taking them out of themselves, so to speak, and transporting
+them far beyond the useful work of their daily life. I have noticed with
+pain for some time past that Fanny's heart has not been in her work:
+her cross-stitch has been wellnigh slovenly, and her herring-boning has
+really been indifferent--I say it with sorrow; but dear Fanny is too
+good a girl to take offence at my strictures, which she knows are honest
+and meant for her good.”
+
+“Madam,” said Lieutenant Burney, “I pray you to give me leave to bear
+you out; but at the same time to make excuses for Fan. I must do so in
+justice to her, for the blame rests with me so far as the herring-boning
+is concerned. I confess, with tears in my eyes, that 'twas I who
+provided her with the last models for her herring-boning; and 'twas
+surely some demon in my breast that prompted me to substitute the
+skeleton of one of the South Sea fishes which I hooked when becalmed
+with Captain Cook within sight of Otaheite, for the true herring whose
+backbone is a model of regularity to be followed by all workers with the
+needle, when deprived of the flesh, which is the staple fare of hundreds
+of honest families and, while nourishing them amply, prevents their
+thoughts from carrying them beyond the region pervaded by the smell of
+their cooking.”
+
+“That were a wide enough area upon occasions for the most ambitious of
+thinkers,” said Dr. Burney, controlling his features, seeing that his
+wife took the ward-room humour of his son with dreadful seriousness.
+He made a sign to James to go no further--but James had gone round the
+world once, and he was not to be checked in a humbler excursion.
+
+“Yes, madam, 'tis my duty to confess that Fanny's model was the
+flying-fish, and not the simple Channel herring, hence the failure to
+achieve the beautiful regularity of design which exists in the backbone
+of the latter from the figurehead to the stern, larboard sloping in one
+direction and starboard in the other. If anyone be culpable 'tis myself,
+not Fanny; but I throw myself on your mercy, and only implore that the
+herring-boning of my sister will not result in a whaling for me.”
+
+Mrs. Burney looked seriously from her brother to Fanny, and getting no
+cue from either, began:
+
+“'Tis indeed honourable for you to endeavour by your confession to
+excuse the fault of your sister, James-----”
+
+“The traditions of the service, madam----” began the lieutenant, laying
+his hand on his heart; but he got no further, for Fanny could restrain
+herself no longer; she burst into a laugh and dropped her work, and her
+father rose, holding up his hand.
+
+“The jest has gone far enough, James,” he said. “We sleep in beds in
+this house and do not swing in hammocks. Keep your deep-sea jests until
+you are out of soundings, if it please you.”
+
+“I ask your pardon, sir,” said James; “but i' faith there's many a
+true word said in jest; and it seems to me that there's a moral in the
+parable of the young woman who took the flying-fish of the South Seas
+for her model rather than the herring of the three-fathom coast-line of
+the Channel; and that moral touches close upon the complaint made by our
+good mother against Mr. Garrick.”
+
+“Let it be so,” said Mrs. Burney, who was a clever enough woman to
+perceive that it would be unwise to make a grievance of the impudence
+of a young naval gentleman. “Let it be so; let it be that we are
+simple, homely, wholesome herrings, we are none the better for such a
+flying-fish as Mr. Garrick coming among us, giving us, it may be, the
+notion that our poor fins are wings, and so urging us to make fools of
+ourselves by emulating the eagle. The moral of your fable is that we
+should keep to our own element--is not that so, sir?”
+
+“I' faith, madam, I am not sure but that 'tis so, and I haul down my
+colours to you, and feel no dishonour in the act,” cried James. “Lord,
+where should we all be to-day if it were not for the good women who
+hold fast to the old traditions of the distaff and needle? They are the
+women who do more for the happiness of men than all who pass their time
+dipping quills in ink-horns or daubing paint upon good canvas that might
+with luck be hung from a stunsail boom and add another knot to the log
+of a frigate of seventy-two! Is there anyone who dines at the table of
+Sir Joshua Reynolds round the corner that does not wish with all his
+heart that his sister would sell her palette and buy a wine-glass or two
+with the proceeds? Why, when we went to dinner at Sir Joshua's yesterday
+there were not enough glasses to go round the table.”
+
+“There never are--that is well known,” said Mrs. Burney.
+
+“Nay, nay; let us take to ourselves the reproof of Dr. Johnson to Mr.
+Boswell when he complained, loud enough almost for Sir Joshua himself to
+hear him, about the scarcity of service. 'Sir,' said Dr. Johnson, 'some
+who have the privilege of sitting at this table, and you are one of
+them, sir, will be wiser if they keep their ears open and their mouths
+shut than they would if they had the means of drinking all that you are
+longing to drink.'”
+
+“Mr. Boswell, in spite of the reproof, contrived to lurch from the table
+with more wine than wisdom 'tween decks,” remarked James.
+
+“He must have found a wine-glass,” said Miss Susy Burney, who had been
+quite silent but quite attentive to every word that had been spoken
+since breakfast-time.
+
+“And so the honour of Mrs. Reynolds's housekeeping is saved,” said Dr.
+Burney.
+
+“Nay, sir, is not Mr. Boswell a Scotsman?” cried the irrepressible
+James.
+
+“That is his lifelong sorrow, since he fancies it to be an insuperable
+barrier between his idol, Dr. Johnson, and himself,” replied his father.
+“But how does his Scotsmanship bear upon the wine-glass question?”
+
+“Ah, sir, without being versed in the subtleties of theology I make bold
+to think that Father Adam did not suffer hunger until knives and forks
+were invented,” said James. “Your drouthy Scot will drink straight from
+the bottle if no beaker be at hand. Oh, why was not Mr. Garrick at Sir
+Joshua's to rouse our spirits by his imitation of Mr. Boswell seeking
+for a wine-glass--and after?”
+
+“Mr. Boswell is too trivial a subject for Davy: I have seen him take off
+Dr. Johnson mixing a bowl of punch until I was like to die of laughter.
+I protest that when he came to the squeezing of the imaginary lemon,
+while he cried out in the Doctor's broadest Lichfield, 'Who's for
+poonch?' I could smell the acid juice,” said Dr. Burney, and he laughed
+at the recollection of Garrick's fooling.
+
+The naval man gave a resounding nautical smack to his thigh.
+
+“That is what 'tis to be a sailor,” he cried. “I have had no chance of
+seeing Mr. Garrick at his best. I should dearly like to hear him take
+off Mr. Boswell when three sheets in the wind. Why was he not with us
+yesterday?”
+
+“Mr. Garrick himself has had a drinking bout on. He has been at the
+Wells for the past fortnight,” said his father.
+
+“_Ecce signum!_” came a doleful voice from the door, and a little man
+slowly put round the jamb a face bearing such an expression of
+piteous nausea as caused everyone in the room--not even excepting Mrs.
+Burney--to roar with laughter--uncontrollable laughter.
+
+Then the expression on the little man's face changed to one of surprised
+indignation. He crept into the room and looked at every person therein
+with a different expression on his face for each--a variation of his
+original expression of disgust and disappointment mingled with doleful
+reproof. It seemed as if it was not a single person who had entered the
+room, but half a dozen persons--a whole doleful and disappointed family
+coming upon an unsympathetic crew convulsed with hilarity.
+
+And then he shook his head sadly.
+
+“And these are the people who have just heard that I have been taking
+the nauseous waters of Tunbridge Wells for a whole fortnight,” and there
+was a break in his voice. “Oh, Friendship, art thou but a name? Oh,
+Sympathy, art thou but a mask? Is the world of sentiment nothing more
+than a world of shadows? Have all the sweet springs of compassion dried
+up, leaving us nothing but the cataracts of chalybeate to nauseate the
+palate?”
+
+He looked round once more, and putting the tips of his fingers together,
+glanced sadly up to the ceiling, then sighed and turned as if to leave
+the room.
+
+“Nay, sir,” cried Dr. Burney, “I do not believe that the chalybeate
+cataracts still flow: 'tis my firm belief, from the expression of your
+face, that you have swallowed the whole spring--the Wells of Tunbridge
+must have been dried up by you before you left--your face betrays you.
+I vow that so chalybeate an expression could not be attained by lesser
+means.”
+
+“Sir, you do me honour, and you have a larger faith in me than my own
+physician,” said the little man, brightening up somewhat. “Would you
+believe that he had the effrontery to accuse me of shirking the hourly
+pailful that he prescribed for me?”
+
+“He had not seen you as we have, Mr. Garrick,” said Dr. Burney.
+
+“He accused me of spending my days making matches and making mischief
+in the Assembly Rooms and only taking the waters by sips--me, sir, that
+have so vivid a memory of Mr. Pope's immortal lines:
+
+               A little sipping is a dangerous tiling,
+
+               Drink deep or taste not the chalybeate spring!”
+
+“You were traduced, my friend--but tell us of the matches and the
+mischief and we shall be the more firmly convinced of your integrity.”
+
+“Nay, sir; I give you my word that 'twas but the simplest of
+matches--not by any means of the sort that yonder desperado fresh
+from the South Seas applies to the touch-hole of one of his horrible
+ten-pounders when the enemy's frigate has to be sunk--nay, a simple
+little match with no more powder for it to burn than may be found on
+the wig of a gentleman of fifty-two and on the face of a lady of
+forty-five--the one a gay bachelor, t'other a ripe widow--' made for one
+another,' said I; and where was the mischief in that? And if I ventured
+to broach the subject of the appropriateness of the union of the twain,
+and to boast under the inspiring influence of the chalybeate spring that
+I could bring it about, is there anyone that will hint that I was not
+acting out of pure good nature and a desire to make two worthy folk
+happy--as happy as marriage can make any two-----”
+
+“Give us their names, sir, and let us judge on that basis,” said Dr.
+Bumey.
+
+“I have no desire to withhold them, my dear Doctor; for I want you to
+back me up, and I am sure that--oh, Lord! here comes the man himself.
+For the love of heaven, back me up, Doctor, and all will be well.”
+
+“Nay, I will not be dragged by the hair of the head into any of your
+plots, my friend,” cried Burney. “Nay, not I. I have some reputation to
+maintain, good friend Garrick; you must play alone the part of Puck that
+you have chosen for yourself this many a year. Think not that you will
+induce me to study the character under you, and so thus-----”
+
+The manservant threw open the door of the room, announcing:
+
+“Mr. Kendal to wait upon you, sir.”
+
+But by the time a small and rather rotund gentleman had been ushered
+into the room, Mr. Garrick was apparently engaged in an animated
+conversation with Miss Burney on the subject of the table-cover at which
+she was working.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+|THE visitor walked with the short strut of the man who at least does
+not underrate his own importance in the world. But he suggested just
+at the moment the man who is extremely nervous lest he may not appear
+perfectly selfpossessed. There was an air of bustle about him as he
+strutted into the room, saying:
+
+“Dr. Burney, I am your servant, sir. I have done myself the honour to
+visit you on a rather important piece of business.”
+
+“Sir, you have conferred honour upon me,” said Dr. Burney.
+
+Then the gentleman seemed to become aware for the first time that there
+were other people in the room; but it was with an air of reluctance that
+he felt called on to greet the others.
+
+“Mrs. Burney, I think,” he said, bowing to that lady, “and her estimable
+family, I doubt not. Have I not had the privilege of meeting Mrs. Burney
+at the house of--of my friend--my esteemed friend, Mrs. Barlowe? And
+this gentleman of the Fleet--ha, to be sure I have heard that there was
+a Lieutenant Burney of the Navy! And--gracious heavens! Mr. Garrick!”
+
+Mr. Garrick had revealed himself from the recesses of Miss Burney's
+work-basket. He, at any rate, was sufficiently self-possessed to pretend
+to be vastly surprised. He raised both his hands, crying:
+
+“Is it possible that this is Mr. Kendal? But surely I left you at the
+Wells no later than--now was it not the night before last? You were the
+cynosure of the Assembly Rooms, sir, if I may make bold to say so. But
+I could not look for you to pay attention to a poor actor when you were
+receiving the attentions of the young, and, may I add without offence,
+the fair? But no, sir; you will not find that I am the one to tell tales
+out of school, though I doubt not you have received the congratulations
+of----”
+
+“There you go, sir, just the same as the rest of them!” cried the
+visitor. “Congratulations! felicitations! smiles of deep meaning
+from the ladies, digs in the ribs with suggestive winks from the
+gentlemen--people whose names I could not recall--whom I'll swear I had
+never spoken to in my life--that is why I left the Wells as hastily as
+if a tipstaff had been after me--that is why I am here this morning,
+after posting every inch of the way, to consult Dr. Burney as to my
+position.”
+
+“I protest, sir, that I do not quite take you,” said Mr. Garrick, with
+the most puzzled expression on his face that ever man wore. “Surely,
+sir, your position as a man of honour is the most enviable one possible
+to imagine! Mrs. Nash----”
+
+“There you blurt out the name, Mr. Garrick, and that is what I had no
+intention of doing, even when laying my case before Dr. Burney, who is
+a man of the world, and whom I trust to advise me what course I should
+pursue.”
+
+“I ask your pardon, sir,” said Mr. Garrick humbly; “but if the course
+you mean to pursue has aught to do with the pursuit of so charming a
+lady, and a widow to boot----”
+
+“How in the name of all that's reasonable did that gossip get about?”
+ cried the visitor. “I give you my word that I have not been pursuing the
+lady--I met her at the Wells for the first time a fortnight ago--pursuit
+indeed!”
+
+“Nay, sir, I did not suggest that the pursuit was on your part,” said
+Garrick in a tone of irresistible flattery. “But 'tis well known that as
+an object of pursuit of the fair ones, the name of Mr. Kendal has been
+for ten years past acknowledged without a peer.”
+
+The gentleman held up a deprecating hand, but the smile that was on his
+face more than neutralized his suggestion.
+
+“Nay, Mr. Garrick, I am but a simple country gentleman,” he cried. “To
+be sure, I have been singled out more than once for favours that might
+have turned the head of an ordinary mortal--one of them had a fortune
+and was the toast of the district; another----”
+
+“If you will excuse me, gentlemen, the Miss Burneys and myself will take
+our leave of you: we have household matters in our hands,” said Mrs.
+Burney, making a sign to Fanny and her sister, and going toward the
+door.
+
+“Have I said too much, madam? If so, I pray of you to keep my secret,”
+ cried the visitor. “The truth is that I have confidence in the advice of
+Dr. Burney as a man of the world.”
+
+“I fear that to be a man of the world is to be of the flesh and the
+devil as well,” said Dr. Burney.
+
+“Augmented qualifications for giving advice on an affair of the Wells,”
+ said Garrick slyly to the naval lieutenant.
+
+“You will not forget, Doctor, that Mr. Thrale's carriage is appointed to
+call for you within the hour,” said Mrs. Burney over her shoulder as she
+left the room.
+
+Fanny and her sister were able to restrain themselves for the few
+minutes necessary to fly up the narrow stairs, but the droll glance that
+Mr. Garrick had given them as they followed their mother, wellnigh made
+them disgrace themselves by bursting out within the hearing of their
+father's visitor. But when they reached the parlour at the head of the
+stairs and had thrown themselves in a paroxysm of laughter on the sofa,
+Mrs. Burney reproved them with some gravity.
+
+“This is an instance, if one were needed, of the unsettling influence of
+Mr. Garrick,” she said. “He has plainly been making a fool of that
+conceited gentleman, and it seems quite likely that he will persuade your
+father to back him up.”
+
+“I do not think that Mr. Garrick could improve greatly upon Nature's
+handiwork in regard to that poor Mr. Kendal,” said Fanny. “But what
+would life be without Mr. Garrick?”
+
+“It would be more real, I trust,” said her stepmother. “He would have
+us believe that life is a comedy, and that human beings are like the
+puppets which Mr. Foote put on his stage for the diversion of the town a
+few years ago.”
+
+Fanny Burney became grave; the longer she was living in the world,
+the more impressed was she becoming with the idea that life was a
+puppet-show; only when the puppets began to dance on their wires in a
+draught of wind from another world the real comedy began. She felt that
+as an interpreter of life Mr. Garrick had no equal on the stage or off.
+On the stage he could do no more than interpret other people's notions
+of life, and these, except in the case of Shakespeare, were, she
+thought, mostly feeble; but when he was off the stage--well, Sir Joshua
+Reynolds had told her what that queer person, Dr. Goldsmith, had written
+about Garrick--the truest criticism Garrick had ever received: “'Twas
+only that when he was off he was acting.” She knew what she herself owed
+to Garrick from the time she was nine years old, when he had accustomed
+her and her sister to look for him at their house almost daily; she knew
+that whatever sense of comedy she possessed--and she looked on it as
+a precious possession--was to be attributed to the visits of Garrick.
+Every time she looked at her carefully locked desk in that room at the
+top of the house in St. Martin's Street, which had once been Sir Isaac
+Newton's observatory, she felt that without the tuition in comedy that
+she had received at the hands of Mr. Garrick, the contents of that
+desk would have been very different. Her stepmother, however, had no
+information on this point; she had lived all her life among the good
+tradespeople of Lynn, and had known nothing of Mr. Garrick until Dr.
+Burney had married her and brought her to look after his children, which
+Fanny knew she had done faithfully, according to her lights, in London.
+
+Fanny kept silent on the subject of Mr. Garrick's fooling, while Mrs.
+Burney bent with great gravity over the cutting out of a pinafore for
+Fanny's little niece--also a Burney; and every now and again there came
+from the closed room downstairs the sound of the insisting voice of the
+visitor. She hoped that Mr. Garrick would re-enact the scene for her;
+she had confidence that it would lose nothing by its being re-enacted by
+Mr. Garrick.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+|I SUPPOSE that I must e'en follow in the wake of the womenkind,” said
+Lieutenant Burney, making an extremely slow move in the direction of the
+door, when the door had been closed upon his stepmother and his sisters.
+
+“Is there any need?” asked Garrick. “It seems to me that in such a
+case as this which Mr. Kendal promises to propound to your father, His
+Majesty's Navy should be represented. In all matters bearing upon a
+delicate _affaire de cour_ surely a naval man should be present to act
+as assessor.”
+
+'Mr. Kendal looked puzzled.
+
+“I fail to take your meaning, sir,” said he, after a pause; he was still
+rubbing his chin with a fore-finger, when Garrick cried:
+
+“Oh, sir, surely the advantage of the counsel of an officer trained to
+navigate femininity in the shape of a ship, is apparent: a ship, even
+though a three-decker ready to fire a broadside of a hundred guns, is
+invariably alluded to as 'she,'” said he, airily.
+
+“Such an one must surely be the most formidable piece of femininity in
+the world,” said Mr. Kendal.
+
+“By no means,” said Garrick. “During my career as the manager of a
+playhouse I have had to face worse. Still, the training of a naval
+officer in dealing with feminine craft--at times off a lee shore, and
+often during a storm at sea--nothing to be compared to the tempests in
+our green-room--is certain to be of value. You will stay, Lieutenant
+Burney, if it please you.”
+
+“I should be most unwilling to obtrude upon your council, sir,” said
+young Burney, “unless you are convinced that my humble services----”
+
+“You have been among the savages of the South Seas, and you are
+acquainted with all the rules of chasing and capturing prizes, all
+of the feminine gender--I allude to your sloops and frigates and
+catamarans--I take it for granted that a catamaran is as feminine in its
+ways as any wherry that floats,” cried Garrick. Then he turned to their
+visitor, who was looking more puzzled than ever.
+
+“You may reckon yourself fortunate in the presence of our young friend,
+sir,” he said. “So far as I can gather this is a case of chase, with
+a possible capture of a prize. I venture to think that in these days a
+gentleman of family and fortune, like yourself, is something of a prize,
+Mr. Kendal.” This was language that contained nothing to puzzle anyone,
+the visitor perceived. His face brightened, and he waved young Burney to
+a seat.
+
+“I take it that Mr. Garrick knows what he is talking about,” he said.
+“And though it was truly your father to whom I came for counsel, I
+doubt not that you will take my part, should the worst come to the
+worst.”
+
+“Which means, should the lady come to the gentleman, Mr. Burney,” said
+Garrick.
+
+“Pay out your yarn, sir: I gather that you are still to the windward of
+your enemy, and that is the position which the books tell us we should
+manoeuvre for,” cried the nautical assessor.
+
+Dr. Burney sat silently by, he had no mind to join in the fooling of
+the others. Dr. Burney had never in his life lost a sense of his own
+dignity. He had been a church organist for thirty years, and no man
+who has had such an experience of the control of an instrument of such
+superlative dignity could be otherwise than dignified. He had never
+once run off on a keyboard a single phrase of “The Beggar's Opera.” Even
+Handel's “Ruddier than the Cherry,” with Mr. Gay's ticklish rhymed
+line about “Kidlings blithe and merry,” he only played apologetically,
+allowing it to be clearly understood that Mr. Handel and Mr. Gay divided
+between them the responsibility for so frivolous a measure.
+
+He remained dignified and silent while Garrick and James carried on
+their fooling. Only a short time before he had occasion to reprove the
+lack of dignity on the part of his important patroness, Mrs. Thrale, the
+wife of the wealthy brewer, in having put herself behind Signor Piozzi
+while he was singing a sentimental canzone and mimicked his southern
+fervour of expression. Mrs. Thrale had taken his reproof in good part
+at the time; but no one--least of all Mrs. Thrale herself--could have
+foreseen that her contrition should extend so far as to cause her to
+marry the singer on the death of Mr. Thrale.
+
+“To be brief, sir,” said Mr. Kendal, addressing, not Dr. Burney, whom he
+had come to consult, but Mr. Garrick, who had shown himself to be much
+more sympathetic. “To be brief, I had gone to the Wells as my custom has
+been for the past twenty years. I went honestly to drink the waters, not
+making it an excuse, as so many do, for indulging in the gaieties, or, I
+may add, the intrigues, of the Assembly Rooms. I was civil, as I hoped,
+to everyone, but, I give you my word, no more so to Mrs. Nash than any
+other lady.”
+
+“I do not doubt that you believe this, sir,” said Garrick, with an
+indulgent wave of the hand; “but when a lady has eyes only for one
+gentleman, she is apt to place a construction upon the simplest of
+his civilities beyond that assigned to it by ordinary people; but pray
+proceed, sir. I will only add that it was quite well known at the Wells
+that the lady regarded you with the tenderest of emotions. Had she not
+boldly said to Lady-------- no; I dare not mention her name; but her
+ladyship is invariably what the Italians term _simpatica_ in regard to
+the tender affairs of her sisters--and it was to her that Mrs. Nash
+confided her secret--referring to you as bearing a striking resemblance
+to the Apollo Belvedere, hoping that her doing so would not cause anyone
+to accuse her of Pagan leanings.”
+
+“Is it possible! The poor lady! poor lady! But I was not to blame. I
+can justly acquit myself of all blame in this unhappy affair,” said Mr.
+Kendal.
+
+“You are quite right, sir; is it a man's fault that he should bear a
+striking likeness to the Apollo--I doubt not that the resemblance has
+caused you some annoyance at various times of your life, Mr. Kendal,”
+ said Garrick.
+
+“Never, sir, never--at least----” he took a step to one side that
+allowed of his having a full-length view of his reflection in the narrow
+mirror that filled up the space between the windows; and the result of
+his scrutiny of the picture was certainly not displeasing to him. He
+boldly put forward a leg, and then quite unconscious, as anyone could
+see, struck an attitude, though not quite that of the Apollo Belvedere.
+Then he smirked.
+
+“A leg like yours, Mr. Kendal, to say nothing of the poise of your
+head, is a great responsibility,” said Garrick seriously. “The poor
+lady!--poor ladies!--I confess that I have heard of others. And she
+acknowledged to you that--that--oh, that most delicate of secrets!”
+
+“Never to me, sir--never in my hearing, I give you my word,” cried
+the man emphatically. “Nay, I did not so much as suspect it. The
+first intimation that I had of the matter was when, on Monday morning
+last--only three days ago--Captain Kelly--the boisterous Irishman--clapt
+me on the shoulder and almost shouted out his congratulations in my
+ear. When I forced him to mention the name of the lady, he ridiculed my
+denial--his forefinger in my ribs--painful as well as undignified. Who
+is Captain Kelly, that he should subject me to his familiarities? But
+if he was undignified, I flatter myself that I was not so. 'Sir, you
+presume,' I said, and walked on, leaving this vulgar fellow roaring with
+laughter.”
+
+“Psha! Kelly is a nobody,” said Garrick. “You should not have allowed
+yourself to be discomposed by such as he.”
+
+“Nor did I,” cried the other. “But what was I to think when I had
+advanced no more than a dozen paces, and found my hand grasped warmly
+by Sir John Dingle?--you know him, Mr. Garrick--I have seen him in
+your company--more congratulations--the same attitude, sir. And then
+up marches Mr. Sheridan--leaving his handsome wife--ah, I fear that I
+joined with all Bath in being in love with the lovely Miss Linley--and
+Mr. Sheridan was wellnigh affronted at my denial. But that was not all.
+Up comes Mrs. Cholmondeley in her chair and tapped for the men to set
+her down when she saw me--up went the roof and up went her head, with
+a shrill cry of 'Kendal, you rogue! to tell everyone at the Wells save
+only myself that Benedick is to be a married man!' And before she had
+finished her ridicule of my denial, up struts Mrs. Thrale, her footman
+behind her with her spaniel, and down she sinks in a curtsey, fitted
+only for a special night in the Rooms, and her 'Happy man!' came with a
+flick of her fan; and she, too, named Mrs. Nash! And that was not the
+last--I saw them hurrying up to me from all sides--ladies with smiles,
+and gentlemen with smirks--fingers twitching for my ribs--down they
+flowed upon me! I ask you, Lieutenant Burney, as a naval gentleman, and
+I am glad to have the opportunity of hearing your opinion--I ask you, if
+I was not justified in turning about and hastening away--what you
+nautical gentlemen term 'cutting my cable '?”
+
+“Indeed, sir; if I could believe that you gave the lady no
+encouragement, I would say that--that--but no one will convince me that
+upon some occasion--it may be forgotten by you--such men of fashion as
+yourself soon forget these things, I have heard, though the unhappy lady
+treasures them as golden memories--I say upon some occasion you may have
+given the Widow Nash encouragement. You have your reputation as a sly
+rogue to maintain, Mr. Kendal,” said young Burney gravely, as though he
+were a lawyer being seriously consulted.
+
+“Fore Gad, sir, I gave her no encouragement,” cried Mr. Kendal. “I have
+ever been most cautious, I swear.”
+
+“Then the greater shame for you, sir,” said Garrick.
+
+The man whom he addressed looked in amazement first at Garrick, then at
+Lieutenant Burney--Dr. Burney, whom he had come to consult, was smiling
+quite unnoticed in a corner. His part, apparently, was no more than that
+of the looker-on at a comedy. His presence was ignored by the others.
+
+“The more shame--the more----” began the visitor. “I protest that I
+scarcely take your meaning, Mr. Garrick.”
+
+“My meaning is plain, sir,” said Garrick firmly, almost sternly. “I
+affirm that it lay with you, when you perceived that the lady was so
+deeply enamoured of you----”
+
+“But I did not perceive it--you have my word for it.”
+
+“Ah, sir,” said Garrick, with the shrug of a Frenchman, which he had
+studied for some months in Paris--Mr. Garrick and Lord Chesterfield
+had alone mastered the art. “Ah, sir, we are all men of the world here.
+'Twere idle for you to pretend that a gentleman with the figure of the
+Belvedere Apollo and the leg of--of----” he turned to young Burney-- “You
+have seen the proud-stepping figure-heads of many ships of the line, Mr.
+Burney,” he said; “prithee help me out in my search for--for--the name I
+am in search of.”
+
+“H'm, let me see--something wooden with a leg to be proud of?” said the
+naval gentleman, considering the matter very earnestly.
+
+“Zounds, sir, I did not make it a condition that it should be a wooden
+leg,” cried Garrick.
+
+“I have seen more than one Admiral of the Fleet mighty proud of a wooden
+leg, sir,” said Burney. “But this is beside the question, which I
+take to be the responsibility of our good friend here--I hope I don't
+presume, Mr. Kendal--for kindling, albeit unconsciously, so far as he
+was concerned--that sacred flame in the breast of--to name only one out
+of a score--the lady whose name he mentioned.”
+
+“You are with me heart and soul, as I felt sure you would be, Mr.
+Burney; as a naval officer of judgment and experience,” cried Garrick,
+“and so, sir--” he turned to their visitor-- “I cannot doubt that you
+will comport yourself as a gentleman of honour in this affair. Do not
+allow your yielding to the natural impulse to run away to weigh too
+heavily upon you. If your act should cause you to be referred to with
+reprobation, not to say scorn, by the ladies or gentlemen of fashion who
+are certain to espouse the cause of the lady, your subsequent conduct
+will show them that they mistook your character. And I promise you that
+should you receive a challenge from any of the lady's admirers--those
+whose prayers she rejected because her heart was set on a gentleman who
+was worthy of her choice--I think you can afford to ignore them, having
+won the prize. Ah, sir, is there not a poet who says that every man that
+lives has a good angel and a bad one contending for dominion over him?
+That is the truth, Mr. Kendal, and I see that your good angel is none
+other than the lady whose name I reckon too sacred to pass our lips at
+such a time as this. Ah, sir, think of her, and let your mind go back to
+the days of your happy boyhood, and say if the mother at whose knees you
+knelt did not resemble her. The affection of a son for his mother--let
+that plead for the lady who esteems you with more than a mother's love.”
+
+He had laid his hand on the poor gentleman's shoulder, and was looking
+into his face, while the tears stood in his eyes, and his voice broke
+more than once.
+
+And there sat Dr. Burney wiping his eyes, and Lieutenant Burney
+blubbering away like any child--the two accessories to the actor's
+farce could not avoid yielding to the-influence of his unparalleled art.
+Though they were in his secret, he made fools of them as easily as he
+made a fool of the poor gentleman who was presumably his victim. And
+they had no feeling of being ashamed of yielding to his powers. He could
+do anything that he pleased with them. He could do anything he pleased
+with the multitudes before whom he acted. He was the master of their
+emotions for the time being. He played upon their passions as though
+every passion was a puppet and the strings in his own hands.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+|THE scene ended by Mr. Garrick's victim groping through his tears
+for Mr. Garrick's hand. He grasped it emotionally, and though for some
+moments he was too greatly overcome to be able to utter a word, yet at
+last he managed to blurt out with affecting incoherence a few phrases.
+
+“Say no more--say no more, sir,” he muttered. “I have a heart--a
+heart! I give you my word, whether you believe me or not, that I had no
+notion--but you have shown me what 'tis to be a woman. Oh, sir, there
+is no sweeter sex in the world! Deception! how a man's own heart may
+deceive him--ay, up to a certain point--but then--ah, you have taught
+me--but are you sure that the lady--what--have we not been going ahead
+too fast? What--what; are you convinced?”
+
+“You may take my word for it, sir,” replied Garrick. “There are signs
+that all who run may read. What, do you suppose that all those persons
+of quality whose names you mentioned just now as having offered you
+their felicitations--do you suppose that they could all be in error?”
+
+“Of course not--they must have seen--well, more than I saw,” said the
+man. “Matrimony! Lud! if an angel had come down to tell me that I should
+be contemplating such a change of life--and at my time of life too!--I
+should have----”
+
+“What an angel may fail to convince a man of, a woman may succeed in
+doing, Mr. Kendal,” said Garrick sententiously. “But do not talk of your
+time of life as if you were an old or even a middle-aged man, sir. To do
+so were to make Dr. Burney and myself feel patriarchs.”
+
+The mention of Dr. Burney seemed to cause the man to recollect how it
+was he came to be in Dr. Burney's house. He turned to Burney, saying:
+
+“Dear sir, I pray that you will look on my visit with lenient eyes.
+I admit that I came hitherto be advised by you--my friend, Mr. Fulke
+Greville, holds your opinion in the highest esteem, as do I, sir; and it
+was actually on my mind to ask you if you thought it would be wiser for
+me to go abroad for a year or two, or simply to seek some place of
+retirement at home--say, Cornwall or the Hebrides--I gather from the
+account of Dr. Johnson's tour thither that there are many places
+difficult of access in the Hebrides--that was on my mind, Doctor, I
+blush to acknowledge, so greatly overcome was I by what had happened at
+the Wells.”
+
+“Ah, with what great ease a man may slam the door that shuts out
+happiness from his life for evermore!” remarked Garrick.
+
+“Even now--even now I feel timid,” said Mr. Kendal thoughtfully, and,
+when he had found which pocket his handkerchief was in, wiping some dew
+from his brow. “The truth is, Doctor, that I have allowed some people to
+assume that I am but forty-seven years old, while as a matter of fact I
+have been forty-eight for some time.”
+
+“For some years?” asked young Burney, who did not know when he should
+keep silence.
+
+“For some months, sir--only for some months, I give you my word.”
+
+“Your deception in this matter could only have added to your reputation
+for accuracy,” said Garrick coolly. “For I vow that were you to confess
+that you were forty-eight, you would find none to believe you.”
+
+The gentleman's eyes twinkled, he pursed out his lips, and once again
+manoeuvred to get a full-length view of himself in the long mirror.
+He put out his right leg and assumed the attitude of a dancing master
+giving the _pas_ for the _minuet de cour_.
+
+“Well, well,” he cried, “if that be your opinion--and I happen to
+know that 'tis shared by others--it might not be unwise to allow the
+assumption, erroneous though it be, to continue. We will not undeceive
+the good folk. And you do not think that a bachelor of forty-eight--What
+is the name of that play of Mr. Sheridan's that took the town a year
+ago?--ah, _The School for Scandal_--you are sure that our friends will
+not call me--What was the gentleman's name?”
+
+“No one who knows how excellent are your principles will think of you
+either as Charles or Joseph, Mr. Kendal,” said Garrick.
+
+“No, no; but the one who was in my mind was neither of the brothers. I
+was thinking of--was it not Sir Peter Teazle?”
+
+Garrick as well as Burney laughed heartily, for the man at that moment
+suggested by his attitude and expression the Sir Peter Teazle of Kina,
+the actor.
+
+“Make your mind easy on that score, sir,” said Dr. Burney. “It is not
+your purpose to wed so skittish a young person as Lady Teazle. That was
+where Sir Peter showed his folly.”
+
+“No, no; Mrs. Nash is more mature, certainly, than Mrs. Abington looked
+in the part,” said Mr. Kendal confidently, and Lieutenant Burney was
+about to agree with him boisterously, but Garrick did not give him a
+chance.
+
+“There is none that will not commend your choice, Mr. Kendal--ay, sir,
+and look on you with envy as well,” he cried.
+
+“There can be no doubt about it,” said Mr. Kendal doubtfully. “The widow
+Nash is a monstrous fine woman.”
+
+“Monstrous, I doubt not,” put in young Burney, now that he had the
+chance.
+
+“All that I am uneasy about is the interpretation that she may put upon
+your sudden flight,” said Garrick. “You have, you will readily allow,
+sir, placed her in a somewhat difficult position at the Wells. While
+everyone who is anyone has been offering you congratulations upon the
+match, and a double portion to the lady, strange inquiries may be made
+as to your disappearance from the Wells; and she may not be able to give
+a satisfactory explanation at a moment's notice.”
+
+“Egad! I never thought of that, sir,” said Mr. Kendal, after a pause. “I
+fear that I have placed her in a very awkward position.”
+
+“Ay, sir; and the consequences may be that she will be snapped up by
+some adventurous person before you can put your fate to the test,”
+ said the naval man, raising a warning finger. “I have heard of ladies
+throwing themselves into the arms of the next comer out of sheer chagrin
+at being disappointed by the man on whom they had set their affections.”
+
+“That is a possibility that should not be neglected,” said Garrick.
+“But it was only on Monday that you fled. By rapid posting you may yet
+prevent such a calamity.”
+
+He was beginning to tire of his game now that he had succeeded so
+well in it and so easily. The fooling of the man who had so completely
+succumbed to his art had no further interest for him. He only wanted to
+get rid of him. He was as capricious and as fickle as a child over the
+toys of its nursery.
+
+“I shall lose no moment, be assured,” said Mr. Kendal. “I may still be
+in time. My hope in this direction is increased when I remember that
+the lady has been a widow for some years--to be exact, without being
+uncomplimentary, nine years. I remember when Mr. Nash died. 'Twas of
+pleurisy.”
+
+“Do not reckon too confidently on that, sir,” said young Burney. “Nine
+years have not passed since she faced the company at the Wells, every
+one of which was surely pointing at her and asking in mute eloquence,
+'What has become of Mr. Kendal?' But by posting without delay you may
+yet retrieve your error. Still, I confess to you that I have known of a
+lady who, out of sheer impatience at the delay of a lover whom she
+had hoped to espouse, married his rival after the lapse of twenty-four
+hours--ay, and when the belated gentleman arrived just after the
+ceremony, he furnished the wedding party with a succulent feast. She
+was the Queen of one of the islands that we visited in the company of
+Captain Cook, and the cockswain of our galley kept the pickled hand of
+the belated lover for many a day--the very hand which he had designed to
+offer the lady.”
+
+“This simple and affecting narrative proves more eloquently than any
+phrases of mine could possibly do how a man may miss the happiness of
+his life by a hair's breadth,” said Garrick. “And the lesson will not be
+lost upon you, I am certain, sir.”
+
+“Lud, Mr. Garrick, you do not mean to suggest that----”
+
+“That the lady may make a meal off you on your late return, sir? Nay,
+Mr. Kendal. The Wells are still the Wells, not the South Seas; but on
+the whole I am disposed to believe that the scheme of revenge of
+the woman scorned is fiercer, though perhaps not, at first sight, so
+primeval, in the region of Chalybeate Waters than in a cannibal island
+of the South Seas. Therefore--there is no time to be lost. Fly to your
+charmer, sir, and throw yourself at her feet. She may be thinking over
+some punishment for your having placed her in a false position for some
+days; but do not mind that. You can always console yourself with the
+reflection that a rod in pickle is much more satisfactory than a hand in
+pickle. Fly, my dear friend, fly; every moment is precious. Take my word
+for it, joy awaits you at the end of your journey.”
+
+“'Journeys end in lovers meeting,'” remarked Dr. Burney, with a slight
+suggestion of the setting of the words of the lyric by his old master,
+Dr. Arne.
+
+At this moment a servant entered the room.
+
+“The Streatham carriage is at the door, sir,” he announced.
+
+Dr. Burney rose from his chair.
+
+“I am forced to leave you, sir,” he said to Mr. Kendal. “But really
+there is naught further to consult on at present, and I know that you
+are impatient--it is but natural--to fly to the side of your charmer.”
+
+“I am all impatience, sir; but with what words can I express my
+obligation to you, Doctor, for the benefit of your counsel?” cried Mr.
+Kendal.
+
+Dr. Burney smiled.
+
+“Nay, dear sir, I am but the lessee of the theatre where the comedy has
+been played,” said he; and he had good reason for feeling that he had
+defined with accuracy the position that he occupied. But Mr. Kendal
+was thinking too much about himself and the position he occupied to
+appreciate such _nuances_.
+
+“I knew that I was safe in coming to a friend of Mr. Greville,” he said.
+“I care not if, as you suggest, you have become Mr. Garrick's successor
+at Drury Lane, though I thought that Mr. Sheridan----”
+
+“Zounds, sir, you are never going to wait to discuss theatre matters,”
+ cried Garrick. “Dr. Burney has been exercising his powers of oratory in
+vain upon you for this half hour if you tarry even to thank him. Post,
+sir, post at once to Tunbridge Wells, and send Dr. Burney your thanks
+when you have put the momentous question to the lady. Go, sir, without
+the pause of a moment, and good luck attend you.”
+
+“Good luck attend you! Keep up your heart, sir: the lady may refuse
+you after all,” said young Burney; but the poor gentleman who was being
+hurried away was too much flurried to be able to grasp the young man's
+innuendo, though one could see by the look that came to his face that
+he had an uneasy impression that Lieutenant Burney's good wishes had not
+been happily expressed. The great thing, however, was that he was at
+the other side of the door, calling out his obligations to everyone,
+and striving to shake hands with them all at once and yet preserve the
+security of his hat, which he had tucked under his arm. So excited was
+he that he was only restrained at the last moment from mounting the
+Thrales' carriage which was awaiting Dr. Burney, and even when his
+mistake was explained to him, he took off his hat to the splendid
+footman who had guarded the door of the vehicle.
+
+In the room where the comedy had been played, Garrick and Lieutenant
+Burney had thrown themselves into chairs with roars of laughter, when
+Dr. Burney returned from the hall, carrying his hat and cane. He was
+scarcely smiling.
+
+“You have played a pretty prank upon an inoffensive gentleman, the pair
+of you!” said he. “I am ashamed that my house has been used by you for
+so base a purpose! The poor gentleman!”
+
+“Psha! my dear Doctor, make your mind easy; the lady will teach that
+coxcomb a lesson that will be of advantage to him for the rest of his
+life,” said Garrick. “He has been the laughingstock of the Wells for the
+past fortnight, and no one laughed louder than the Widow Nash. She will
+bundle him out of her presence before he has had time to rise from his
+marrow-bones--he does not find the process a rapid one, I assure you.
+Oh, he was her _bete noire_ even when he was most civil to her.”
+
+“And it was you who concocted that plot of getting all your
+friends--Mrs. Cholmondeley, Mrs. Thrale and the rest--to make a fool of
+him, driving him away from the Wells to encounter a more irresistible
+pair of mocking demons in this room!” said Burney. “You cannot deny it,
+my friend, I know your tricks but too well.”
+
+“I swear to you that I had no hope of encountering him in this house, my
+dear Doctor,” said Garrick. “I give you my word that I had laid my
+plans quite differently. My plot was a far more elaborate one, and Polly
+Cholmondeley had agreed to take part in it, as well as Dick Sheridan.
+They will be disappointed to learn that it has miscarried. Who could
+guess that he should come to you of all men in the world, Doctor? He has
+never been one of your intimates.”
+
+“Only when I was living with Mr. Greville had we more than a superficial
+acquaintance,” replied Burney. “But that does not make me the less
+ashamed of having lent myself to your nefarious project. And you, James,
+you threw yourself with gusto into the fooling of the unhappy man--and
+woman too--and woman too, I repeat.”
+
+“Pray do not distress yourself on her account, Doctor. She will send him
+off with a flea in his ear by to-morrow night, and she will take care
+to pose as the insulted widow of Mr. Nash, whose memory is dear to her,”
+ said Garrick.
+
+“Will she, indeed?” said Burney. “David Garrick, you are the greatest
+actor that has ever lived in England--probably in the world--but you are
+a poor comedian compared with such as are at work upon our daily life:
+we call them Circumstance, and Accident, and Coincidence. You know the
+couplet, I doubt not:
+
+               ' Men are the sport of circumstances when
+
+               The circumstances seem the sport of men.'
+
+You have sounded the depths of human impulses, so far as your plummet
+allows you, and womankind seems to you an open book----”
+
+“An illuminated missal, with the prayers done in gold and the Lessons
+for the day in the most roseate tint, Doctor.”
+
+“And the Responses all of a kind--the same in one book as another? But I
+make bold to believe, my friend, that every woman is a separate volume,
+of which only one copy has been printed; and, moreover, that every
+separate volume of woman is sealed, so that anyone who fancies he knows
+all that is bound up between the covers, when he has only glanced at the
+binding, makes a mistake.”
+
+“Admirably put, sir, and, I vow, with fine philosophy,” said Garrick.
+“But what imports this nomination of a woman at the present moment,
+Doctor?”
+
+“Its import is that you are over sanguine in your assurance that Mrs.
+Nash, widow, will reject Mr. Kendal, bachelor, when he offers her his
+hand after a dusty journey; and so good day to you, David Garrick, and
+I pray you to spend the rest of the day in the study of the history
+of those women who have opened the leaves of their lives a little way
+before the eyes of mankind.”
+
+He had left the room and was within the waiting carriage and driving
+away before his son remarked:
+
+“Mr. Garrick, it seems to me that my good father has spoken the wisest
+words that you or I have heard to-day or for many a day.”
+
+“And i' faith, James, it seems to me that that remark of yours is the
+second wisest that has been uttered in this room,” said Garrick.
+
+He went away without a further word--without even taking his leave of
+the two young women and their stepmother, who herself had been a widow
+before she had married Dr. Burney. He had once believed that nothing
+a woman--young or old--could do would surprise him; for some reason or
+other he was not now quite so confident as he had been. But he certainly
+did not think that one of the greatest surprises of the century should
+be due to the demure young woman who seemed the commonplace daughter of
+a very ordinary household, and who at the moment of his departure was
+darning a small hole in a kitchen table-cloth, under the superintendence
+of her admirable stepmother.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+|IN the course of the morning Esther, the married daughter of the Bumey
+family, called at the house in St. Martin's Street. Esther, or as she
+was usually alluded to by her sisters, Hetty or Hettina, was handsome
+and accomplished. She had been married for some years to her cousin,
+Charles Rousseau Burney, who was a musician, and they lived and enjoyed
+living in an atmosphere of music. Her father took care that she was
+never likely to be asphyxiated; their atmosphere would never become
+attenuated so long as they lived, as they did, close to St. Martin's
+Street. He was well aware of the fact that his Hetty's duets with her
+husband--“matrimonial duets” they were called by Fanny in some of her
+letters--and also with her sister Charlotte, served to attract many
+distinguished visitors and profitable patrons to his house; he never
+forgot that profitable patrons and patronesses are always attracted
+by distinguished visitors. When one finds oneself in the company of
+distinguished people, one naturally feels a distinguished person also.
+
+Moreover, Dr. Burney knew perfectly well that when ambitious patrons
+and patronesses were made aware of the success which he had achieved in
+respect of his daughters, they were all ready to implore of him to
+spare some of his valuable time to give lessons to themselves, seeing no
+reason why, with his assistance, they should not reach the level of his
+two musical daughters. He conducted his teaching on the principle which
+brings fortunes to the Parisian modiste, who takes good care that her
+mannequins are good-looking and of a fine figure, knowing that the
+visitors to the showrooms have no doubt, no matter how little Nature
+has done for their own features or figures, that in the robes of the
+mannequins they will appear equally fascinating.
+
+The adoption of this system in the Burney household operated extremely
+well, and Dr. Burney had for several years enjoyed the proceeds of his
+cultivation of the musical tastes of the most influential clientèle in
+London. In addition, the greatest singers in Europe, knowing that there
+was always an influential _assistance_ to be found at Dr. Burney's
+little concerts in St. Martin's Street, were greatly pleased to
+contribute to the entertainment, for love, what they were in the habit
+of receiving large sums for from an impresario. Those Italian operatic
+artists most notorious for the extravagance of their demands when
+appearing in public, were pushing each other aside, so to speak, to be
+allowed to sing at Dr. Burney's, and really upon more than one occasion
+the contest between the generosity of a pair of the most distinguished
+of these singers must have been somewhat embarrassing to Dr. Burney.
+They were clearly singing against each other; and one of them, who
+invariably received fifty guineas for every contribution she made to a
+programme in public, insisted on singing no fewer than five songs, “all
+for love” (and to prove her superiority to her rival), upon a certain
+occasion at the Burneys'; so that really the little company ran a chance
+of being suffocated beneath the burden of flowers, as it were--the
+never-ending _fioriture_ of these generous artists--and Dr. Burney found
+himself in the position of the lion-tamer who runs a chance of being
+overwhelmed by the caresses of the carnivora who rush to lick his hands.
+
+The result of all this was extremely gratifying, and eminently
+profitable. Had Dr. Burney not been a great musician and shown by the
+publication of the first volume of the greatest History of Music the
+world had yet received, that he was worthy of being placed in the
+foremost ranks of scientific musicians, he would have run a chance of
+being placed only a little higher than the musical Cornelys of Soho
+Square, who gave their concerts, and entertained their friends, and made
+quite a reputation for some years before bankruptcy overtook them and
+the precincts of the Fleet became their headquarters.
+
+And now the beautiful Esther Burney was toying with the contents of her
+sister Fanny's work-basket, talking about her husband and his prospects,
+and inquiring what Mr. Garrick and James had to talk about in the room
+downstairs.
+
+“Pray speak in French to Fanny,” said Mrs. Burney. “I cannot get Lottie
+and Susan to do so as frequently as I could wish. You must remember that
+poor Fanny has had none of your advantages, and I do not want her to
+be talked of as the dunce of the family. She really is not a dunce, you
+know; in spite of her bad sight she really has done some very pretty
+sewing.”
+
+“I have seen it,” said Esther. “She works very neatly--more neatly than
+any of us.”
+
+Fanny blushed and smiled her thanks to her sister for the compliment.
+
+“What else is there left for me to do but to give all my attention to
+my needle?” she said. “I constantly feel that I am the dunce of the
+family--you are all so clever.”
+
+“It is well for many families that they include one useful member,” said
+her stepmother in a way that suggested her complete agreement with
+the girl's confession that she was the dunce of the family. A mother's
+acknowledgment that a girl is either useful or good-natured is
+practically an announcement that she is neither pretty nor accomplished.
+
+“And Fanny has many friends,” continued Mrs. Burney indulgently.
+
+“Which shows how kind people are, even to a dunce,” said Fanny, not
+bitterly, but quite good-humouredly.
+
+“But I am not sure that she should spend so much of her time writing to
+Mr. Crisp,” said the elder Mrs. Burney to the younger.
+
+“Oh, poor Daddy Crisp!” cried Fanny. “Pray, mother, do not cut him off
+from his weekly budget of news. If I fail to send him a letter he is
+really disconsolate. 'Tis my letters that keep him still in touch with
+the life of the town.”
+
+“Well, well, my dear Fanny, I shall not deprive you of your Daddy
+Crisp,” said her stepmother. “Poor Mr. Crisp must not be left to the
+tender mercies of Susan or Lottie. He is most hospitable, and his house
+at Chessington makes a pleasant change for us now and again, and he took
+a great fancy to you from the first.”
+
+“Daddy Crisp was always Fanny's special friend,” said Esther. “And I am
+sure that it is good practice for Fanny to write to him.”
+
+“Oh, she has long ago given up that childish nonsense,” cried the
+mother. “Poor Fanny made a pretty bonfire of her scribblings, and she
+has shown no weakness in that way since she took my advice in regard to
+them.”
+
+Fanny was blushing furiously and giving all her attention to her work.
+
+“She has still a sense of the guilt that attaches to the writing of
+stories, though I am sure that no one in this house remembers it against
+her,” said Esther with a laugh, as Fanny's blushes increased. “But
+indeed I had not in my mind Mr. Crisp's advantage to her in this way,
+but only in regard to her correspondence. She has become quite an expert
+letter-writer since he induced her to send him her budget, and indeed I
+think that good letter-writing is as much of an accomplishment in these
+careless days as good singing--that is ordinary good singing--the good
+singing that we hear from some of father's pupils--Queenie Thrale, _par
+exemple!_”
+
+“Your father is a good teacher, but the best teacher in the world cannot
+endow with a good singing-voice anyone who has not been so gifted by
+Nature,” said the elder lady. “'Tis somewhat different, to be sure, in
+regard to correspondence, and I do not doubt that Fanny's practice in
+writing to good Mr. Crisp will one day cause her to be regarded as one
+of the best letter-writers in the family, and that is something. It is
+a ladylike accomplishment, and one that is worth excelling in; it gives
+innocent pleasure to so many of her friends who live at a distance; and
+your father can always obtain plenty of franks, Mr. Charmier and Mr.
+Thrale are very obliging.”
+
+Fanny was a little fidgety while her eldest sister and her stepmother
+were discussing her in a tone of indulgence which was more humiliating
+than open reprobation would have been. But she knew that the truth
+was, that from her earliest years she was looked on as the dunce of the
+family, and she was so morbidly self-conscious that she was quite ready
+to accept their estimate of her. The silent member of a musical
+family soon finds out how she is looked on by the others; not with
+unkindness--quite the contrary--but only as if she were to be slightly
+pitied for her deficiency. But she had a secret or two, the treasuring
+of which in her heart prevented her from having any feeling of
+humiliation in the presence of her splendid sister, whom all the world
+sought to attract to their houses, especially when there were guests
+anxious to be entertained by the sweet singing of a handsome young
+woman with a very presentable young husband. Fanny had her secrets
+and cherished them with a fearful joy, for she knew that any day might
+remove either or both of them, and then there would be nothing left for
+her in the household but to put her heart into her needlework. But one
+cannot do needlework without needles, and if she were to put her heart
+into her work, and if every needle had a point, the result would, she
+knew, be a good many prickings.
+
+She trusted that she might never be condemned to put her heart into her
+needlework.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+|THEN Lieutenant Burney sauntered into the room and greeted Esther; but
+when Fanny inquired with some eagerness what had been the result of Mr.
+Garrick's fooling of poor Mr. Kendal, James was by no means so glib or
+amusing as Fanny expected him to be.
+
+“Psha!” he cried; “that Mr. Kendal is not worth powder and shot--at
+least not the weight of metal that Mr. Garrick can discharge--not in a
+broadside--Mr. Garrick is not given to broadsides--they are too clumsy
+for him--he is like Luke Boscawen, our chief gunner; he had a contempt
+for what he was used to term a blustering broadside, having a liking
+only for the working of his little brass swivel. He could do anything
+that he pleased with his little swivel. 'Ping!' it would go, when he
+had squinted along the sights, and the object he aimed at half a
+mile away--sometimes so small that we could scarce see it from our
+foretop--down it went. Boscawen could do what he pleased with it--the
+blunt nose of a whale rising to spout a mile away--the stem of a
+cocoa-nut palm on one of the islands when we were not sure of
+the natives and there was no time to climb the tree--that is the
+marksmanship of Mr. Garrick, and your Mr. Kendal was not worthy of an
+exercise of so much skill.”
+
+“Nobody seems too insignificant to be made a fool of by Mr. Garrick,”
+ said Mrs. Burney. “He is as happy when he has made a gruesome face and
+frightened a maid with a mop at the doorstep, as when he has stricken us
+with awe when the ghost enters in _Hamlet_, or when Macbeth declaims of
+the horror of the curse of sleeplessness that has been cast on him. That
+is why I said before he arrived that I was not sure that his influence
+upon you all is for good. He makes one lose one's sense of the right
+proportions and realities of life. Now is not that so, Hetty? I make
+no appeal to Fanny, for I know that she has ever been devoted to Mr.
+Garrick. Is it not true that she was used to frighten poor Lottie before
+she was ten by showing how Mr. Garrick frowned as the Duke of Gloster?”
+
+“I know that Fanny murdered us all in turn in our beds, assuring us that
+we were the Princes in the Tower, or some less real characters invented
+by herself,” said Esther. “But indeed if James tells us that Mr.
+Garrick's gun practice smashed the cocoa-nut that serves Mr. Kendal as a
+head, I should not grieve. Tell us what happened, James.”
+
+“Oh, 'twas naught worth words to describe,” said James. “The man came to
+take counsel of Daddy in regard to a jest that Mr. Garrick had, unknown
+to his victim, played off upon him, and Mr. Garrick so worked upon him
+that Daddy had no chance to speak. But Mr. Garrick made fools of us as
+well, for I give you my word, though we were in with him in his jest,
+he had us blubbering like boobies when he laid his hand on the fellow's
+shoulder and spoke nonsense in a voice quivering and quavering as though
+he were at the point of breaking down.”
+
+Mrs. Burney the elder shook her head.
+
+“That is what I do not like--that trifling with sacred things,” she
+said. “'Tis not decent in a private house--I would not tolerate it even
+in a playhouse, and I see that you are of my opinion, James, though you
+may have been dragged into the abetting of Mr. Garrick in whatever mad
+scheme he had set himself upon perfecting.”
+
+“Oh, for that matter we are all sorry when we have been merry at the
+expense of another, even though he be an elderly coxcomb such as that
+Mr. Kendal,” said James. “But enough--more than enough--of coxcomb
+Kendal! Tell us of the Duchess's concert, Hetty. Were the matrimonial
+duets as successful as usual?”
+
+Esther, who had been disappointed that her stepmother had not yet said
+a word about the concert of the previous night given by the Dowager
+Duchess of Portland, at which she and her husband had performed,
+brightened up at her brother's question.
+
+“The concert was well enough,” she replied with an affectation of
+carelessness. “'Twas no better than many that have taken place under
+this roof. Her Grace and her grandees were very kind to us--we had
+enough plaudits to turn the head of Gabrielli herself.”
+
+“Oh, the Gabrielli's head has been turned so frequently that one can
+never tell when it sits straight on her shoulders,” said James.
+
+“She was _very_ civil to us last evening,” said Esther. “Indeed, she
+was civil to everyone until the enchanter Rauzzini sang the solo
+from _Piramo e Tisbe_ and swept the company off their feet. The poor
+Gabrielli had no chance against Rauzzini.”
+
+“Especially in a company that numbered many ladies,” said James, with a
+laugh. “You remember what Sir Joshua told us that Dr. Goldsmith had once
+said of Johnson?--that in his argument he was like the highwayman: when
+his pistol missed fire he knocked one down with the butt.”
+
+“I heard that upon one occasion Dr. Johnson knocked a man down with a
+heavy book, but I cannot imagine his ever firing a pistol,” remarked
+Mrs. Burney, who had been used, when the wife of a straightforward
+merchant of Lynn, to take every statement literally, and had not yet
+become accustomed to the involved mode of speaking of the brilliant
+young Burneys.
+
+“You mean that Rauzzini--I don't quite perceive what you do mean by your
+reference to Dr. Goldsmith's apt humour,” said Esther.
+
+“I only mean that among such a company as assembled at the Duchess's, if
+he missed fire with his singing, he glanced around with those dark eyes
+of his and the ladies went down before him by the score,” replied James.
+“Do not I speak the truth, Fanny?” he added, turning quickly to where
+Fanny was searching with her short-sighted eyes close to her work-basket
+for some material that seemed to be missing.
+
+But she had clearly heard her brother's question, for she did not need
+to raise her head or to ask him to repeat it.
+
+“Oh, we are all the slaves of the nobil' signor,” she said, and
+continued her search in the basket.
+
+“From the way he talked to us last night it might be fancied that it was
+he who was the captive,” said Esther.
+
+“And I do not doubt that he is living in a state of constant captivity,”
+ laughed James. “Ay, or I should rather term it inconstant captivity,
+for I dare swear that those black eyes of his do a deal of roving in the
+course of a year--nay, in the course of a day. These singer fellows feel
+that 'tis due to their art, this moving the hearts of their hearers,
+by moving their own affections from heart to heart. The Rauzzini is, I
+fancy, like one of the splendid butterflies we came upon in the Straits,
+fluttering from flower to flower.”
+
+“I have heard no stories of his inconstancy, even from the Gabrielli
+when she was most envious of his plaudits,” said Esther, and she glanced
+at her sister, who was earnestly threading a needle.
+
+“You goose!” cried James to Esther. “Do you suppose that Gabrielli would
+tell you anything so greatly complimentary to him? In these days you
+cannot pay a man a greater compliment than to compare him to the fickle
+butterfly. You see that suggests a welcome from every flower.”
+
+“I protest that it is to sailors I have heard most compliments of that
+sort paid,” laughed Esther, and then, putting herself in a singing
+attitude before him, she lilted most delightfully:
+
+                   “Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more!
+
+                   Men were deceivers ever,
+
+                   One foot on sea-
+
+
+“ha, ha, brother James!
+
+
+                   and one on shore,
+
+                   To one thing constant never.
+
+“Now be advised by me, dear James, and do not attribute even in a
+cynical way, the vice of inconstancy to a singer, until you have left
+the Navy.”
+
+“I did not allude to it as a vice--rather as a virtue,” said James.
+“Just think of the hard fate of any girl to have such a person as a
+singer ever by her side!”
+
+He easily evaded the rush down upon him made by Hetty, and used his
+nautical skill to sail to the windward of her, as it were, until he had
+reached the door, whence he sent a parting shot at her.
+
+“You surely don't think that I hinted that your spouse was a singer,” he
+cried. “A singer! Oh, lud! I should be swaying away on all top ropes if
+I were to call the matrimonial duets singing.”
+
+He gave a shout of laughter as he caught the ball of wool which Esther
+threw at him, having picked it up from her stepmother's work-table. He
+returned it with a better aim, and before his sister could get a hand on
+it, he had shut the door, only opening it a little space a few seconds
+later to put in his head with a mocking word, withdrawing it at once,
+and then his foot was heard upon the stair, while he gave a sailor's
+version of Mr. Garrick's patriotic naval song:
+
+               Come, cheer up, my lads, 'tis to glory we steer.
+
+“He has gone before I had a chance of asking him to take a message
+to the cheesemonger,” said Mrs. Burney, calling out to him while she
+hurried after him out of the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+|THE moment the two sisters were alone, the elder said quickly in a low
+voice, leaning across the table:
+
+“We had a long talk with Signor Rauzzini, my dearest Fanny. I could not,
+of course, tell you before mother.”
+
+“You mentioned his name; but were you discreet?” said Fanny. “I think
+mother felt that you were going too far when you referred to his eyes.
+Mother most surely believes that the dark eyes of an Italian form a
+topic that should not be discussed except by our elders, and then only
+with bated breath and a fearful glance around lest a word should be
+overheard.”
+
+“His eyes--you know his eyes, Fanny?”
+
+“Oh!” said Fanny, with an inflection that was between a sigh and a moan.
+
+“You should have seen them while he spoke of you,” said Esther. “Talk
+of flashes of lightning!--Dear child, it seemed so singular to us that a
+mite like you should inspire a grand passion in such a man. You are not
+angry with us, I know, but it was so indeed.”
+
+“Why should I feel angry with you for feeling just what I do myself,
+only more intensely,” said Fanny. “Tis one of the greatest mysteries of
+life--the only mystery of life that I have yet faced--why a man who is
+as handsome as an archangel, and who possesses a voice that an archangel
+might envy, should so much as glance at an insignificant young woman
+like myself! Oh! 'tis no wonder that the notion amused you, dear Hetty.”
+
+“It only diverted us for a time, I assure you, my Fanny; it did not
+take us very long to perceive how it was no laughing matter, but, on
+the contrary, a very serious matter. Signor Rauzzini is, as I said, an
+enchanter, but do you not think that 'tis somewhat dangerous to--to----”
+
+“To play with fire? That is what is on your mind, dear--to allow
+the fire of his Roman eyes to play about me? Dangerous? I admit that
+wherever there is fire there is danger, especially when it flashes from
+such eyes.”
+
+“I am glad that you need no warning, child. As your elder sister I am
+pleased that--that--but no one in the house seems to think for a moment
+that the favour he has so distinctly shown to you can mean anything.
+Indeed, until last night, neither Charles nor I could believe----”
+
+Fanny laughed, half closing her short-sighted eyes with a curious
+expression as she looked at her sister.
+
+“It is only natural, my dear Hettina,” she said.
+
+“Have I ever ventured to suggest that I am other than the dunce of the
+family?”
+
+“You have always been absurdly humble, Fanny, and I have never hesitated
+to say so,” cried Esther. “I am sure that none of us could have made up
+such clever little pieces to act as you did when we were children. And
+as for writing, could any of us have so neatly copied out the padre's
+History as you did last year? Mr. Crisp, too--he never takes pleasure in
+any letters of the family except what you write for him.”
+
+“All perfectly true, my Hettina,” replied Fanny. “But where am I when
+the house is filled with visitors? You know that I am nobody--that all
+I pray for with all my heart is that no one will take any notice of me,
+and I think I can say that my prayer is nearly always granted.”
+
+“That is because you are so dreadfully--so absurdly shy,” said Esther.
+“You are the little mouse that is evermore on the look out for a hole
+into which you can creep and be safe from the observation of all eyes.
+You are ever trying to escape, unless when Mr. Garrick is here.”
+
+“Dear Hettina, I know my place--that is all. I have weak eyes, but quick
+ears, and I have heard strangers ask, when they have heard you sing and
+Susan play, who the little short-sighted girl in the corner is and what
+she means to do for the entertainment of the company. When they are
+assured that I am one of the clever Burney family they whisper an
+incredulous 'No?' They cannot believe that so insignificant a person as
+myself can be one of you.”
+
+“Tis your morbid self-consciousness, Fanny, that suggests so much to
+you.”
+
+“Oh, no; I was the dunce from the first. You know that while you could
+read any book with ease when you were six, I did not even know my
+letters when I was eight. Don't you remember how James made a jest of
+my thirst for knowledge by pretending to teach me the alphabet with the
+page turned upside down? And when you had gone to school at Paris and
+it was my turn as the next eldest, the wise padre perceived in a moment
+that the money would be much better spent upon Susan and Lottie, and
+they went to be educated while I remained at home in ignorance? The dear
+padre was right: he knew that I should have been miserable among bright
+girls away from home.”
+
+There was a pause before the elder sister said quite pathetically:
+
+“My poor Fanny! I wonder if you have not been treated shabbily among
+us.”
+
+“Not. I, my Hettina. I have always been treated fairly. I have had as
+many treats as any of you; when you were learning so much in Paris I
+have been learning quite a number of things at home. And one of the
+most important things I learned was that so brilliant a person as Signor
+Rauzzini could never be happy if married to so insignificant a person as
+Fanny Burney.”
+
+Esther gave a little sigh of relief.
+
+“Indeed I think that your conclusion is a right one, dear,” she said.
+“We both came to the conclusion--Charles and I--that it would be a huge
+misfortune if you should allow yourself to be attracted by the glamour
+that attaches to the appearance of such a man as the Rauzzini, though,
+mind you, I believe that he honestly fancies himself in love with
+you--oh, he made no disguise of it in talking with us last night. But I
+hoped that you would be sensible.”
+
+“Oh, in the matter of sense I am the equal of anyone in the family,”
+ said Fanny, laughing. “That I mean to make my one accomplishment--good
+sense. That is the precious endowment of the dunce of the clever
+family--good sense; the one who stands next to the dunce in the lack of
+accomplishments should be endowed with good nature. Good sense and good
+nature go hand in hand in plain grey taffeta, not down the primrose
+paths of life, but along the King's highway of every day, where they run
+no chance of jostling the simple foot-passengers or exciting the envy
+of any by the flaunting of feathers in their face. Good sense and good
+nature are best satisfied when they attract no attention, but pass on to
+obscurity, smiling at the struggle of others to be accounted persons of
+importance.”
+
+“Then you have indeed made up your mind to marry Mr. Barlowe?” cried
+Esther.
+
+Fanny laughed enigmatically.
+
+“Does it not mean rather that I have made up my mind not to marry Mr.
+Barlowe?” she cried.
+
+Esther looked puzzled: she was puzzled, and that was just what Fanny
+meant her to be.
+
+But then she looked piqued, as elder sisters do when puzzled by the
+words or the acts of the younger. What business have younger sisters
+puzzling their elders? Their doing so suggests pertness when the elders
+are unmarried, but sheer insubordination when they are married; and
+Esther was by no means willing at any time to abrogate the privileges of
+her position as a married woman.
+
+“I protest that I do not understand your meaning, Fanny,” she said,
+raising her chin in a way that gave her head a dignified poise. There
+was also a chill dignity in the tone of her voice.
+
+“Dear Hettina, I ask your pardon,” cried Fanny quickly. “I fear that
+I replied to you with a shameful unreasonableness. But indeed I am not
+sure that you had reason on your side when you assumed that because I
+was ready to acknowledge that it would not mean happiness to our dear
+Signor Rauzzini to marry an insignificant person like myself, I was
+therefore prepared to throw myself into the arms of Mr. Barlowe.”
+
+“I fancied that--that--but you may have another suitor in your mind
+whose name you have not mentioned to anyone.”
+
+“Why should it be necessary for me to have a suitor of any kind? Is it
+not possible to conceive of the existence of a young woman without a row
+of suitors in the background? I admit that the 'Odyssey' of Homer--you
+remember how I used to listen to your reading of Mr. Broome's
+translation to mother--would be shorn of much of its interest but for
+that background of suitors in one of the last books, but--well, my dear
+sister, I hold that the alternative song of life to the matrimonial duet
+is the spinster's solo, and it does not seem to me to be quite devoid of
+interest.”
+
+“Oh, I took it for granted----” began Esther, when Fanny broke in upon
+her.
+
+“Yes, I know what all the happily wedded ones take for granted,” she
+cried. “You assume that the wedded life is the only one worth living;
+but as we are told in the Bible that there is one glory of the sun and
+another of the moon, so I hold that I am justified in believing that if
+matrimony be celestial, spinsterhood is terrestrial, but a glory all the
+same, and not unattractive to me. I may be wise enough to content myself
+with the subdued charm of moonlight if it so be that I am shut off from
+the midday splendour of matrimony.”
+
+Esther did not laugh in the least as did her sister when she had
+spoken with an air of finality. She only made a little motion with her
+shoulders suggesting a shrug, while she said:
+
+“I hope you will succeed in convincing mother that your views are the
+best for the household; but I think you will have some difficulty in
+doing so, considering what a family of girls we are.”
+
+“I do not doubt that mother will be on the side of immediate matrimony
+and poor Mr. Barlowe,” said Fanny.
+
+“Why poor Mr. Barlowe?” cried Esther. “He is a young man of excellent
+principles, and he has never given his parents a day's trouble. It
+is understood that if he marries sensibly he will be admitted to a
+partnership in the business, so that----”
+
+“Principles and a partnership make for matrimonial happiness, I doubt
+not,” said Fanny. “And I doubt not that Dr. Fell had both excellent
+principles and an excellent practice; still someone has recorded in
+deathless verse that she--I assume the sex--did not like that excellent
+man.”
+
+“And you do not like Mr. Barlowe on the same mysterious grounds?” said
+Hetty.
+
+“Nay, I am not so unreasonable, I hope,” replied Fanny. “But--but--dear
+sister, I remember how I thought that the song of the linnet which was
+in our little garden at Lynn was the loveliest strain of the grove, and
+such was my belief until I awoke one night at Chessington and heard the
+nightingale.”
+
+“You are puzzling--singularly puzzling today,” said Esther frowning.
+“You have started two or three mystifying parables already. You told
+me some time ago as a great secret that you had been renewing your
+story-writing, in spite of your having burnt all that you had written
+for our edification--all that story--what was its name? The heroine was
+one Caroline Evelyn. You were ever an obedient child, or you would not
+have sacrificed your offspring at the bidding of our new mother, though
+the advice that she gave you was good, if you have not quite adhered to
+it. Novel writing is not for young ladies any more than novel reading,
+and certainly talking in parables is worse still. Well, I have no more
+time to spend over your puzzles.”
+
+“You would not find their solution to repay you, my dear,” said Fanny.
+
+“Still, I am pleased to learn that you take a sensible view of Signor
+Rauzzini and his heroics--but, indeed, I cannot see that Mr. Barlowe
+should not be considered, with his prospects--his father is a mercer in
+gold and silver lace, as you know----”
+
+“I have heard so--it is a profitable trade, I believe.”
+
+“None more so. It is impossible to believe that a time will ever come
+when gold and silver lace will cease to be worn by gentlemen.”
+
+“That would be an evil day for England as well as for Messieurs Barlowe,
+_père et fils_. But thank heaven it is not yet in sight. Good morning,
+dear sister; and be assured you have my thanks for your advice. But
+mind you keep my little secret about the writing. Good-bye. You can face
+mother boldly, knowing that you have carried out her commission to the
+letter, and very neatly and discreetly into the bargain.”
+
+“I would not have done so if her views had not been mine also; as for
+your writing--you may depend on my keeping your secret. But you will
+have to get the padre's permission to have it printed--that's something
+still in the far future, I suppose;”--and the elder sister stooped to
+kiss the younger--Fanny was not up to the shoulder of the beautiful and
+stately Esther.
+
+And so they parted.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+|FANNY BURNEY had been forced, for the first time, to make her sister
+aware of the fact that she knew she was looked on as the dunce of the
+brilliant Burney family. She could see that her doing so had startled
+her sister, for neither Esther nor any of the other girls had ever
+suggested to her that they thought of her as being on a different level
+from themselves, though it was tacitly allowed that it was a great
+pity that Fanny did not emulate them in taking pains to shine as it was
+expected the children of that estimable master of music, Dr. Burney,
+should shine, so as to make the house in that narrow little street off
+Leicester Fields attractive to its many distinguished visitors.
+
+Fanny had truly defined her place in the household. She had recognized
+her place for several years; but there was not the least suggestion of
+rancour in her tone when talking to her brilliant elder sister, for
+the simple reason that there was no bitterness in her heart against any
+member of the family for being cleverer than herself. Fanny took pride
+in the accomplishments of her sisters, and was quite content with her
+position in relation to them. She got on well with all of them, because
+she was fond of them all, and they were all fond of her. She had not
+rebelled when her father had sent her younger sisters to be educated
+in Paris, and had allowed her to pick up her own education as best she
+might in his own library; and it had been a great happiness to her to be
+allowed the privilege of copying out for the press the first volume of
+her father's “History of Music.” It was her stepmother who, finding
+out that Fanny had what Mrs. Burney called “a taste for writing,” had
+suggested that that was the legitimate channel in which such a taste
+should flow; and it was her stepmother who had induced her to make a
+bonfire of all her own writings--the scribblings of her girlhood that
+represented the foolish errant flow of her “taste for writing “: and
+now and again she had a consciousness of her own duplicity in failing
+to resist the impulse that had come upon her to do some more of what her
+mother termed her “girlish scribbling.”
+
+One of the guilty secrets that Fanny cherished was that when it was
+believed she was writing her long letters to her old friend Mr. Crisp,
+she had been composing a novel which was now about to be given to the
+world; the second was that Signor Rauzzini, the handsome young Roman
+singer with whom half the fashionable ladies of the town were in love,
+was in love with her.
+
+These were two secrets worth the cherishing, she knew; and the thought
+of them more than compensated her for the reflection that she was the
+dunce of the family, and that the unconscious tone of patronage adopted
+toward her by her elder sister and the dreadful compliments paid to her
+plain sewing, as though plain sewing represented the highest hopes that
+could reasonably be entertained in regard to her, were only to be looked
+for in the circumstances.
+
+The two secrets were closely bound up together, she knew. She had the
+deepest affection for Signor Rauzzini. How could she fail to return the
+feeling which the whisper of his musical voice had told her he had
+conceived for her? He loved her in spite of the fact that she was the
+least attractive member of the family--in spite of the fact that half
+the town was at his feet, and that he might have made his choice from
+among the best. He had chosen her whom no one else had ever noticed,
+with the exception of her father's old friend, Mr. Crisp, and--oh, yes
+(she laughed now, perceiving that she had done an injustice to the other
+person who had been attracted to her--mainly, she thought, on account of
+her reputation for plain sewing)--a young man named Thomas Barlowe, the
+excellent son of the well-known mercer of gold and silver lace, in the
+Poultry!
+
+Thinking of young Mr. Barlowe by the side of Signor Rauzzini,
+Fanny laughed again. She had so restricted an opinion of her own
+attractiveness that the tears actually came into her eyes for having
+given that derisive laugh as she compared the two young men; and she
+felt that she had been grossly ungrateful to young Mr. Barlowe; for even
+young Mr. Barlowe had a right to look above her level for a wife. As the
+daughter of a simple music master with a large family she could have no
+endowment so far as worldly goods were concerned; and she knew that the
+practical parents of young business men, as a rule, looked for their
+sons to marry, if not great fortunes, at least young women with a few
+thousands to their names.
+
+She felt that she had treated the condescending young Mr. Barlowe very
+badly in laughing at the poor figure he cut by the side of the angelic
+Roman singer--she had failed to resist the temptation to call Signor
+Rauzzini angelic in one of her letters to Mr. Crisp--and now,
+in thinking of Mr. Barlowe as a very worthy young man, she was
+unconsciously relegating him to a hopeless position as a lover. It
+is not the very worthy young men who are beloved by young women of a
+romantic temperament: if it were there would be very few romances
+left. But little Miss Burney desired only to ease the twinges of her
+conscience for having laughed at the thought of young Tommy Barlowe; and
+she thought that she had done the right thing in assuring herself that
+he was a very worthy person.
+
+And then she thought no more about him. She had a feeling that to give
+another thought to him when she had such a man as Signor Rauzzini
+to think about, would be a constructive act of treason in regard to
+Rauzzini. She had received many hints from her stepmother to the effect
+that all the family considered her to be a very fortunate young woman
+(all things taken into account) in having a chance of marrying the
+Thomas who seemed ready to pay his addresses to her; but though quite
+submissive to her stepmother in household matters, she was ready to face
+her with the “Never!” of the avowed rebel in the matter of consenting
+to wed the highly approved Thomas, and so she dismissed him from her
+thoughts, in favour of the man whom she loved.
+
+But thinking of the man whom she loved was by no means equivalent to
+passing into a region of unalloyed happiness. She had mystified her
+sister by the way in which she had spoken about Signor Rauzzini, and the
+seal had been put upon the mystery by her frank acknowledgment that she
+did not think a union between so distinguished a man as Rauzzini and so
+insignificant a person as herself was likely to be satisfactory.
+
+She had certainly allowed Hetty to go away believing that this was
+in her mind; and that was just what was in her mind when her thoughts
+turned from Thomas, whom she considered so estimable, to Rauzzini,
+whom she loved. She loved the Roman singer so truly that she had made a
+resolution never to consent to his marrying anyone so insignificant as
+she believed herself to be.
+
+She had no illusions regarding herself. She knew just how good-looking
+she was; she knew that by the side of any of her sisters she was almost
+plain; but that she had a pleasing, simple face of a very ordinary type.
+She knew that she could love with the truest devotion and she could
+trust herself not to change with time. But she felt that these were not
+beyond the traits of the ordinary young woman, and that they did
+not lift her from the level of insignificance to the level of Signor
+Rauzzini.
+
+She knew that she was at that moment an insignificant person; and she
+made no attempt to think of herself as otherwise.
+
+Yes; but she had heard of people--even young women--being insignificant
+one day, and the next springing to a pinnacle of fame to which all eyes
+looked up. How would it be if she were destined to reach in a moment
+a position that would place her on a level with the man of her
+thoughts--the man whose fame as a singer had caused him to be the centre
+round which every conversation in the most notable circles turned?
+Everyone was talking in praise of Rauzzini; and she herself thought of
+him as occupying a place on a height as far above her as King Cophetua's
+throne was above the marble steps at the foot of which the beggar maid
+had crouched; but in her mind there was the possibility that her name
+might one day be spoken by the world in connection with an achievement
+that would raise her from the insignificance of Fanny Burney to the
+importance of Signor Rauzzini, and prevent people from asking what on
+earth had induced so glorious a person as he to make her his wife!
+
+That was the secret dream which filled the imagination of this
+imaginative young woman--the same dream as comes to so many young women
+who have written the last chapter of a book and sent it forth for the
+world to receive with acclaim--the dream of fame--of immortality! She
+had written a novel and it was about to be given to the world, if the
+world would have it, and upon its success her happiness depended. If
+it brought her fame, it would place her by the side of the man whom
+she loved; but if it failed, then she would remain a person of no
+significance, and quite unworthy of sharing the honours which were
+showered upon her lover. She had imagination, and this faculty it was
+that made her more than doubtful of the success of King Cophetua's rash
+experiment. She felt sure that King Cophetua had now and again, turning
+suddenly round, caught one of his courtiers with his tongue in his
+cheek when his Majesty was entering the throne-room with his shy and
+insignificant Queen by his side, and that the Queen had occasionally
+overheard the whispers of her maids of honour, when they did not know
+she was at hand, asking one another what on earth the King had seen in
+her that induced him to make her his consort. Little Miss Burney had
+long ago made up her mind that the union of King Cophetua and his beggar
+maid was far from being a happy one--that the King looked around him and
+saw several princesses of great beauty and quite devoid of shyness who
+were fully acquainted with the convenances of his court and would not,
+if he had married any one of them, have made the mistakes which she was
+sure the young person whom he had elevated had fallen into, causing him
+constant irritation.
+
+Little Miss Burney had resolved that she would never play the part of
+a crowned beggar maid. The man whom she loved had won fame for himself,
+and she would not go to him unless she, too, had at least made such
+a name for herself as should prevent her from feeling herself in the
+position of the beggar maid whom King Cophetua had raised to his side.
+Little Miss Burney resolved that although she could scarcely expect to
+go to her lover wearing purple robes embroidered with gold, she could,
+at any rate, refrain from wearing beggars' rags. She had her ambitions,
+and she felt that they were not ignoble, but that they made for the
+happiness of the man she loved, and who had been gracious enough to love
+her--the least attractive member of the family.
+
+But after she had sat for some time with her hands lying idle on the
+sempstress' work at which she had been engaged on the departure of her
+sister--after her imagination had carried her much farther away than she
+intended it should, she was sensible of a return to the cold world from
+which she had soared. Her heart, which had begun to beat quickly when
+Hetty had told her how the divine Rauzzini had spoken of her, sank
+within her as she seemed to hear a voice asking who was she that she
+should hope to reach by the publication of that story which she had been
+writing by stealth and at odd times during the past three years, even
+the smallest measure of fame that would compare with that of Signor
+Rauzzini? What fame attached to the writing of a novel in comparison
+with that achieved by the enchantment of a singer who had power to move
+the hearts of men and women as it pleased him? Orpheus--ah, what
+fame could compare with the fame of Orpheus, the singer? His was a
+heaven-sent gift. What was her little talent compared with such a gift?
+If she had the ability even to make music such as one of her sisters
+could bring forth from the keys of the piano, she would have a better
+chance of being accounted worthy of a place beside Signor Rauzzini than
+if her novel found its way to the shelves of many readers. The writing
+of a novel was a poor achievement--nay, in the opinion of a good many
+people, including her own stepmother--a most practical woman--it was
+something to be ashamed of; and Fanny herself, thinking over all
+the novels written by women which she herself had read--most of them
+surreptitiously--was disposed to agree with her. That was why she had
+kept as a secret for more than three years the fact that she was trying
+to write a novel. Her father knew nothing of it, and her stepmother was
+equally uninformed. Even her old friend Mr. Crisp, to whom she wrote
+voluminous letters week after week, and to whom she gave her confidence
+on many matters, had no suspicion that she had written her novel.
+
+She had thought it prudent to keep this matter hidden from them, for she
+did not doubt that if she had told any one of them of her project, she
+would never have a chance of realizing it. They would certainly have
+pronounced against such a proceeding even before a page of her novel
+came to be written.
+
+And yet it was the thought that this novel was shortly to be published
+that had caused her to feel that she was drawing nearer to her lover.
+
+As she reflected upon this, sitting idly over her work when her sister
+had left the house, her tears began to fall, not in a torrent, but
+slowly dropping at intervals upon the fabric which she had been sewing.
+She felt very sad, very hopeless, very lonely.
+
+Nor could it be said that the sudden return of Mrs. Burney meant a
+return of happiness to the girl.
+
+Mrs. Burney did not consider that Fanny had made satisfactory progress
+with her work, and did not hesitate to express her opinion to this
+effect. But she was not imprudently unkind; for young Mr. Barlowe had
+just written to her, begging permission to pay his respects to Mrs.
+Burney and her daughter that evening, and she meant that Fanny should be
+in a good humour to entertain him.
+
+Mrs. Burney had great hopes that the question of Fanny's future--a
+constant topic of conversation and consultation between her and her
+husband--might be settled by a series of visits of young Mr. Barlowe.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+|YOUNG Mr. Barlowe took himself very seriously, and he had every right
+to do so; for a more serious young man was not to be found in business
+in London. He had been brought up to look upon everything in the world
+as having an intimate connection with business, and it had always been
+impressed upon him that business meant the increase of money, and that
+there was hardly anything in the world worth giving a thought to apart
+from the increase of money. It never occurred to any of his preceptors
+to suggest that the advantage of increasing one's money lay in the
+splendid possibilities of spending it. The art of making money forms
+the whole curriculum of a business man's education; he is supposed to
+require no instruction in the art of spending it. Thus it is that, by
+attending only to one side of the question, so many business men lead
+much less interesting lives than they might, if they had it in their
+power to place themselves under the guidance of a trustworthy professor
+of the Art of Spending. But no Chair of Spending has yet been provided
+at any University, nor is there any instructor on this important branch
+of business education at any of the City schools, hence it is that the
+sons of so many money-making men turn out spendthrifts. They have been
+taught only one side of the great money question, and that the less
+important side into the bargain. In making an honest endeavour to master
+the other side, usually on the death of a father or a bachelor uncle,
+both looked on as close-fisted curmudgeons, a good many young men find
+themselves in difficulties.
+
+Young Mr. Barlowe, on being introduced to the Burney family, through the
+circumstance of Mrs. Burney's first husband having done business with
+Mr. Barlowe the elder, found himself in a strange atmosphere. He had
+never before imagined the existence of a household where music and plays
+and books were talked about as if these were the profitable topics of
+life. Previously he had lived in a house where the only profitable topic
+was thought to be the Profits. At his father's table in the Poultry the
+conversation never travelled beyond the Profits. The likelihood of a
+rise in the price of gold or silver sometimes induced the father to
+increase his stock of bullion without delay, and then if the price rose,
+he could conscientiously charge his customers for the lace at such a
+rate per ounce as gave him a clear five per cent, extra profit; and it
+was upon such possibilities that the conversation in the Poultry parlour
+invariably turned.
+
+And here were these Burneys talking with extraordinary eagerness and
+vivacity upon such matters as the treatment by a singer named Gabrielli
+of one of the phrases in a song of Mr. Handel's, beginning: “Angels ever
+bright and fair”! For himself, young Mr. Barlowe thought that there
+was no need for so much repetition in any song. “Angels ever bright and
+fair, Take, oh take me to your care”--that was the whole thing, as it
+seemed to him; and when that request had been made once he thought it
+was quite enough; to repeat it half a dozen times was irritating and
+really tended to defeat its purpose. Only children in the nursery
+kept reiterating their requests. But he had heard Dr. Burney and
+his son-in-law, Esther's husband, discuss the Gabrielli's apparently
+unauthorized pause before the second violins suggested (as it appeared
+to the younger musician) a whisper of assent floating from the heaven;
+and all the members of the family except Fanny had taken sides in the
+controversy, as though a thing like that had any bearing upon the daily
+life of the City!
+
+Thomas Barlowe was amazed at the childishness of the discussion, and he
+was particularly struck by the silence of Fanny on this occasion. She
+was silent, he was sure, because she agreed with him in thinking it
+ridiculous to waste words over a point that should be relegated to the
+nursery for settlement.
+
+“They seem pleasant enough people in their way,” he told his mother
+after his first visit. “But they know nothing of what is going on in the
+world--the real world, of which the Poultry is the centre. It might
+be expected that the young man who is a naval officer and has seen the
+world would know something of the import of the question when I asked
+him what direction he thought gold would move in; but he only winked and
+replied, 'Not across my hawse, I dare swear,' and the others laughed as
+if he had said something humorous.”
+
+“Mayhap it was humorous,” suggested his mother gravely.
+
+“It would be sheer ribaldry for anyone to jest upon such a subject
+as the fluctuations in the price of silver,” said Thomas slowly.
+“Lieutenant Burney must surely know how serious a matter would be a fall
+of a fraction of a crown when we have bought heavily in prospect of
+a rise. But Miss Burney looks to be different from the others of the
+family. I have told you that while her father, and indeed all the rest,
+were talking excitedly on that ridiculous point in Mr. Handel's music,
+she sat in silence. She is short-sighted, but I noticed more than once
+that she had her eyes fixed on me, as if she had found something to
+study in me. She is, I think, a steady, observant young lady. When Mrs.
+Burney said she hoped that I would visit them again, I think I perceived
+a sort of interest on Miss Burney's face as she awaited my answer.”
+
+Thomas had resolved not to frustrate the hopes that Mrs. Burney had
+expressed as to his paying another visit--as a matter of fact he had
+come three times, and on every occasion he had devoted himself to
+Fanny--to be more exact than Mrs. Burney, who had described his
+attentions in this phrase, he had passed his time subjecting her to a
+sort of catechism with a view to discover if she would make him the
+sort of wife that would suit him. It appeared that the result of his
+inquisition was satisfactory, and that his attentions were gradually
+becoming intentions; but Mrs. Burney had never gone farther than to
+comment favourably to Fanny upon the young man's steadiness, and to
+suggest that the young woman whom he might choose to be his wife would
+be fortunate, steady young men with good prospects in the City being far
+from abundant. She had never gone so far as to ask Fanny if she would
+accept good fortune coming to her in such a form; though Fanny knew very
+well that she had asked Esther to sound her on this point.
+
+How far Esther's mission was accounted successful by their stepmother,
+Fanny, of course, could not guess; but at any rate Thomas was to pay a
+visit after dinner, and Fanny felt that it was necessary for her to be
+discreet. It had been very interesting for her to study Thomas, with the
+possibility before her of writing a second novel, in which some of
+his traits of character might be introduced with advantage; but she
+perceived how there was a likelihood of her course of study being paid
+for at too high a rate; so she resolved--to be discreet beyond her
+ordinary exercise of a virtue which she displayed at all times of her
+life.
+
+So Thomas came to the house in St. Martin's Street while tea was
+being served in the drawingroom, to the accompaniment of a duet on
+the piano--Dr. Burney had quickly perceived the merits of this new
+instrument over that of the harpsichord--between Susan and her father.
+Very close to the instrument, pressing the receiver of his ear-trumpet
+to the woodwork of the case, sat Sir Joshua Reynolds, while his
+sister--a lady of middle age who was gradually relinquishing the idea
+that she, too, could paint portraits--was suffering Mrs. Burney
+to explain to her the advantages of Lynn over London as a place of
+residence for people anxious to economize.
+
+Fanny was at the table where the teapot and urn were being drawn on, and
+close to her sat her brother James, with a volume like an account-book
+lying face down on the table while he drank his tea.
+
+The progress of the duet was not arrested by the entrance of young Mr.
+Barlowe, but he looked in the direction of the instrument when he had
+shaken hands with Mrs. Burney and bowed to Miss Reynolds. It was obvious
+that he was mystified by seeing Sir Joshua's ear-trumpet pressed against
+the sound-conducting case of the piano. He was still looking at it with
+curious eyes while he greeted Fanny with the concentrated politeness of
+the Poultry.
+
+Lieutenant Burney roused himself from his lolling attitude when he saw
+the puzzled look on the young man's face, and he obligingly endeavoured
+to explain away the mystery.
+
+“'Tis no wonder that you are amazed, Mr. Barlowe,” he said in a
+whisper. “I own that when it was first brought to my notice I thought it
+extraordinary. A marvellous instrument, is it not, that is played by the
+ear instead of by the mouth? And yet you must own that some of the notes
+it produces are very fine--much more delicate than could be produced by
+any other means.”
+
+“I do not profess to be a judge of music, sir,” said Thomas; “but I
+know what pleases me.” Fanny wondered how often she had heard that
+same boast--the attempt of complete ignorance to be accredited with the
+virtue of frankness. “Yes, I own that I consider the music monstrous
+pretty; but with the ear--that is what puzzles me: it seems a simple
+trumpet, such as is blown by the mouth.”
+
+“Pray do not let my father hear you say that, Mr. Barlowe,” whispered
+James. “That instrument is his fondest. You know that he has written a
+'History of Music'?”
+
+“All the world knows that, sir,” replied Thomas gallantly. “I have not
+yet found time to read it myself, but----”
+
+“Neither have I, sir; but I understand that that instrument which seems
+new to such simpletons as you and I is really as ancient as the pyramids
+of Egypt--nay, more so, for my father discovered in his researches that
+this was the identical form of the first instrument made by Tubal Cain
+himself.”
+
+“Is't possible? In our Family Bible there is a picture of Tubal Cain,
+but he is depicted blowing through a conch shell.”
+
+“A shell! Ah! such was the ignorance of the world on these matters
+before my father wrote his History. But he has managed to clear up
+many points upon which complete ignorance or very erroneous opinions
+prevailed. It is not generally known, for instance, that Tubal had his
+second name given to him by reason of his habitually murdering every
+musical piece that he attempted to play.”
+
+“But he was the inventor, was he not?”
+
+“Quite true, Mr. Barlowe. But that fact, you must admit, only made his
+offence the more flagrant. So the inscriptions on the rocks assert; and
+there are some sensible people nowadays who believe that Tubal's second
+and very suggestive name should be coupled with the names of many more
+recent performers on musical instruments.”
+
+“You do not allude to the gentleman who is playing that new
+instrument--I mean that very ancient instrument--by the side of Dr.
+Burney?”
+
+“Oh, surely not. That gentleman is one of the most notable performers of
+our age, Mr. Barlowe. I ask you plainly, sir, have you ever seen, even
+at a raree show, a musician who could play an instrument with his ear
+and produce such a good effect? You can easily believe that a vast
+amount of ingenuity is needed to produce even the simplest sound in that
+way.”
+
+“If I had not it demonstrated before my eyes I should not believe it
+possible. I protest, sir, that the effect is very pretty. Is't not so,
+Miss Burney?”
+
+The young man turned to Fanny, who was doing her best to refrain from an
+outburst of laughter; she could not trust herself to put her cup of tea
+to her lips while her brother was continuing his fooling. She thought
+that it was scarcely good manners of him to play such a jest upon a
+visitor, though she knew the ward-room code of manners which her naval
+brother had acquired was very liberal on such points. She was about to
+give Mr. Barlowe a hint of the truth of Sir Joshua's ear-trumpet, but
+James, perceiving her intention, defeated it by saying in a tone above a
+whisper:
+
+“Cain--we mentioned Cain, did we not, Mr. Barlowe? Oh, yes; and it must
+have occurred to you how strangely customs have altered during the past
+ten years--how strongly opposed people are to-day to principles that
+were accepted without demur so recently as in our own boyhood. You take
+my meaning, sir?”
+
+Mr. Barlowe did not look as if he quite grasped Lieutenant Burney's
+drift, and Fanny felt it incumbent on her to prevent further fooling (as
+he thought she would) by remarking:
+
+“My brother means, Mr. Barlowe, that 'tis remarkable how many changes
+are being made in many ways--but what he had in his mind was, of course,
+in respect to the forte-piano--on which my father and sister are
+playing a duet: only a few years ago no one thought to improve upon
+the harpsichord; and yet my father asserts that in a short time the
+harpsichord will be no more than a curiosity--that the forte-piano--or
+as we simply call it now, the piano, will take its place in every
+household. That is what you meant, was it not, James?”
+
+“I was thinking of Cain and his profession--Cain, the good old murderer,
+rather than of Tubal Cain, who was perhaps equally criminal in inventing
+the liveliest source of human torture,” replied James gravely. “Yes,
+I was thinking--suggested by the mention of Cain--how strange people
+nowadays would regard my father's intentions regarding my future when
+he assumed that I should have the best chance for cultivating my bent,
+which he had early recognized in me, by sending me, before it became too
+late, to be educated for the profession to an accomplished murderer.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+|YOUNG Mr. Barlowe started so violently that he spilt his tea over his
+knees; for just before James had uttered his last sentence the music
+stopped, but as it had been somewhat loud in the final bars, and James
+had raised his voice in the same proportion, the inertia of his tone
+defied any attempt to modulate it, so that it was almost with a shout
+that he had declared that he had been sent to be educated in his
+profession to a murderer.
+
+Fanny was too much overcome by the ludicrous aspect of the contretemps
+to be able to laugh. Her brother, who had had no intention of startling
+anyone in the room except young Mr. Barlowe, hung his head and was
+blushing under the South Sea tan of his skin; Sir Joshua Reynolds had
+heard nothing after the crashing chords that concluded the duet; but
+poor Miss Reynolds almost sprang from her chair in horror.
+
+Mrs. Burney was very angry.
+
+“You have been making a fool of yourself as usual, James,” she cried.
+“Pray give Mr. Barlowe another cup of tea, Fanny. I vow that 'tis a
+shame for you, James Burney, to treat such a company as though you were
+on the deck of the _Adventure_ facing your South Sea savages.”
+
+But Dr. Burney, with his customary tact, raised a hand half reprovingly
+toward his wife.
+
+“Give Mr. Barlowe his cup, and then pass one to me, Fanny,” he said,
+rising from the piano. “You know that James has spoken no more than
+the truth, my dear,” he added, smiling at his wife. “I can see that the
+rascal has been fooling while our backs were turned to him; but we know
+that he spoke no more than the truth--at least in that one sentence
+which he bawled out for us. He was, indeed, sent to a school where he
+was placed under an accomplished usher who was some time after hanged
+as a murderer. You see, madam----” he had turned, still smiling, to Miss
+Reynolds, thereby doing much to restore her confidence in the sanity of
+the family--“You see that James was from the first so desperate a young
+rascal that, just as a boy who is an adept at figures is educated for
+the counting-house, and one who spends all the day before he is six
+picking out tunes on the harpsichord should be apprenticed, as I was, to
+a musician, so we thought our James should be sent whither he could
+be properly grounded in the only profession at which he was likely to
+excel. But, alas! the poor usher was carried off by the police, tried at
+the next assizes and duly hanged before James had made much progress in
+his studies; but I believe that a few years in the navy does as much
+for a youth who has made up his mind to succeed, as a protracted course
+under a fully qualified criminal.”
+
+Miss Reynolds looked as if she were not quite certain that, in spite of
+his smiles, Dr. Burney was jesting; but when Mrs. Burney, seeing how her
+husband's mock seriousness was likely to produce a wrong impression upon
+plain people, said:
+
+“You must recall hearing about Mr. Eugene Aram some years back, Mrs.
+Reynolds,” that lady showed that her mind was greatly relieved.
+
+“I recall the matter without difficulty,” she said. “The man was usher
+at the grammar school at Lynn.”
+
+“And no school had a more learned teacher than that unfortunate man,”
+ said Sir Joshua. Young Mr. Barlowe had been divided in his amazement
+at what Dr. Burney had said, and at the sight of Sir Joshua holding the
+trumpet to his ear, though the instrument remained mute. He had never
+found himself within the circle of so startling a society. He wished
+himself safe at home in the Poultry, where people talked sense and made
+no attempt to blow a trumpet with their ears.
+
+“James had acquired quite a liking for poor Aram,” said Dr. Burney,
+“and, indeed, I own to having had a high opinion of the man's ability
+myself. It was to enable him to purchase books necessary for his studies
+in philology that he killed his victim--a contemptible curmudgeon named
+Johnstone. I fear that all our sympathy was on the side of the usher.”
+
+“I was greatly interested in Mr. Aram, and read a full account of his
+trial,” said Sir Joshua.
+
+“I wonder that a man of so sensitive a mind as his did not so brood over
+his crime as to cause suspicion to fall on him earlier than it did.”
+
+“Only upon one occasion it seemed that he was affected by an incident
+which might possibly have awakened some suspicion in the mind of a
+person given to suspicion,” said Dr. Burney.
+
+“James had been presented with a copy of the translation of Gessner's
+'Death of Abel'--everyone was going mad about the book that year--more
+copies were sold of it than of any translation since Pope's 'Homer,' but
+I fancy James found it dull enough reading. He had it on his knee trying
+to get through a page or two in case the kind donor might question him
+upon it, when the usher came up. He took the volume in his hand and
+glanced at the title. Down the book fell from his grasp and he hurried
+away without a word--'as if he had been stung,' James said, in telling
+us about it, to excuse the broken cover. Of course, I never gave a
+thought to the matter at the time; but when I heard of the arrest of
+Eugene Aram the following year, I recalled the incident.”
+
+“I should like to make a picture of the scene, and name it 'Remorse,'”
+ said Reynolds.
+
+(_He never did make such a picture; many years had passed, and Lieutenant
+Burney had become an Admiral before his narration of the incident
+touched the imagination of a poet who dealt with it in verse that has
+thrilled a good many readers._)
+
+Thomas Barlowe was not greatly thrilled by the story as told by Dr.
+Burney. He seemed rather shocked to find himself at the table with
+someone who had been taught by a murderer. He glanced furtively at James
+Burney, who had remained silent since the contretemps that had prevented
+him from perfecting his fooling of Thomas; and the result of Thomas's
+scrutiny at that moment was to cause Thomas a tremor; for who could say
+what fearful knowledge Lieutenant Burney might have acquired during
+his intercourse with the murderer--knowledge which might jeopardize the
+safety of a simple visitor like himself? Thomas felt that no ordinary
+person could be accounted absolutely safe in a company that included a
+tall, able-bodied young naval man who had begun his education under a
+murderer and had gone to complete it among the cannibals of the South
+Seas; and, in addition, an elderly gentleman who fancied that he could
+bring any sound out of a trumpet by pressing it to his ear instead of
+his lips, and had shown himself ready to extol the scholarship of any
+man who had been hanged.
+
+But then Thomas looked at Fanny, and she pleased him more than ever. She
+was so demure, so modest, so shy. She had a very pretty blush, and she
+did not play on the piano. It was a thousand pities, he felt, that such
+a girl should be compelled to remain in such uncongenial companionship.
+All the time that Dr. Burney and his other daughter were playing a
+second duet, and the silly gentleman holding the bell of his trumpet
+to the case of the piano, still fondly believing that he was also a
+performer with the mouth-piece in his ear, Thomas Barlowe was feeling
+wave after wave of pity passing over him for the unhappy position of
+the shy girl in the midst of so doubtful a household. Before long his
+compassion for her so stimulated his imagination that he began to think
+of the possibility of his rescuing her--he began to think of himself in
+the character of a hero--he did not remember the name of any particular
+hero who had carried off a young woman who was placed in a similar
+situation to that occupied by Miss Burney; but he had no doubt that more
+than one romance was founded upon the doings of such a man as he felt
+himself fully qualified to be, if he made up his mind to assume such a
+rôle.
+
+As the music continued--it was an arrangement of Bach's _Orfèo_--Thomas
+Barlowe became more and more resolute. He would be the heroic person who
+should appear at the right moment and achieve the emancipation of that
+sweet and shy girl, who by no fault of hers was forced to live in that
+house and remain, if she could, on friendly terms with her father and
+sisters, who kept strumming on the piano, and with her brother, who was
+ready to boast of having received the rudiments of his education from
+a murderer. All that he needed was the opportunity to show his heroism,
+and he did not doubt that when he set his mind to work on the matter, he
+would have such an opportunity.
+
+If anyone had whispered in his ear that his inward consciousness of
+being equal to the doing of great deeds was solely due to the music
+which was being played, and to which he was unwillingly listening, he
+would have been indignant. He would have thought it preposterous had it
+been suggested to him that the effect of that strumming was to make him
+feel more like a god than a man--to be ready to face hell for the love
+of a woman, as Jean Sebastian Bach imagined Orpheus doing for Eurydice.
+But Jean Sebastian Bach knew what he was about when he had composed his
+_Orfèo_, and Dr. Burney was quite equal to the business of interpreting
+his aims, and of urging his daughter Susan to join with him in
+impressing them upon even so unimpressionable a nature as that of Thomas
+Barlowe; so that while Thomas Barlowe believed that this music was one
+of the most petty of all human interests, it was making him think
+such thoughts as had never before entered his mind--it was giving him
+aspirations from which in ordinary circumstances he would have shrunk.
+
+The master musician and his interpreters were making sport of him,
+leading him if not quite into the region of the heroic, at least to the
+boundary of that region, and supplying him with a perspective glass, as
+the Interpreter did to the Pilgrims, by the aid of which he might see
+the wonderful things that had been beyond his natural scope.
+
+And that was how it came about that he gazed into Miss Burney's eyes and
+pressed her hand at parting with a tenderness he had never previously
+associated with his leave-taking. He felt sure that Miss Burney would
+understand what he meant, though he knew that he would have difficulty
+in expressing it all to her in words; for the effect of the music was
+to make him feel that he could put so much feeling into a look, into
+a squeeze of the hand, as would touch the heart of any young woman and
+cause her to be certain that she might trust him though all other help
+might fail her.
+
+That was the effect which the heroic music had upon him, though he did
+not know it; it made him feel willing to face hell for her sake at that
+moment, and even until he had walked through more than a mile of the
+network of streets that lay between Leicester Fields and the Poultry.
+
+But the effect of such an intoxicant as music upon such a nature as his
+is not lasting. Before he had reached Cheapside his own individuality
+was beginning to assert itself; and he wondered if he had not gone too
+far for discretion--discretion being, according to his reckoning, the
+power to withdraw from a position that might compromise him. And before
+he reached his home he had got the length of wondering how he had so far
+forgotten himself as to yield to that compromising impulse represented
+by the gaze and the squeeze. He could not for the life of him understand
+what had come over him at that moment; for he had by no means satisfied
+himself that Miss Burney was the young woman who would make him
+comfortable as his wife. He still thought highly of her on account of
+her modesty and her dainty shyness, but marriage was a serious matter,
+and he was not sure that he should take her for his wife.
+
+On the whole, he felt that he had had a very trying evening--between the
+Lieutenant who had so nearly qualified to practise as a murderer, and
+the father and daughter who seemed ready to strum their duets until
+midnight, to say nothing of the foolish gentleman who tried to play
+the trumpet with his ear; and Thomas made up his mind that he would not
+trust himself into the midst of so unusual a circle until he was certain
+that he wanted to marry the young woman whose hand he had, for some
+reason or other, pressed at parting.
+
+But Mrs. Burney had noticed much more clearly than Fanny had done the
+expression that the face of Thomas Barlowe had worn when he had looked
+into the girl's eyes; she had measured to the fraction of a second the
+duration of his holding of her hand beyond the time essential for
+the discharge of the ordinary courtesy of a hand-shake; and she was
+satisfied that Thomas was progressing in his wooing of the least
+attractive and certainly the least accomplished member of the family.
+The good woman thought, however, that it was rather a pity that her
+husband and Susan had persisted in the practice of their duets; for by
+doing so they had not given a chance to Thomas and Fanny of being alone
+together.
+
+But, looking back upon the incidents of the evening, she came to the
+conclusion that, on the whole, she had no reason to complain of the
+progress that was being made in the young man's wooing. She was no
+believer in undue haste in this respect; and had not Thomas looked into
+Fanny's eyes at the close of the evening? Yes, at the close; and that
+proved to her satisfaction that he had not suffered discouragement by
+the maladroit conversation about Mr. Eugene Aram. The unhappy episode
+upon which her husband had dwelt with far too great attention to its
+details, was one to which she herself had never alluded; for at Lynn,
+where she had lived all her life previous to being married to Dr.
+Burney, the Eugene Aram episode was regarded as a scandal to be ignored
+by those of the inhabitants whose children had attended the school where
+he had been usher. It was a distinctly favourable sign of the impression
+made upon young Mr. Barlowe by Fanny, that he had gazed into her eyes in
+spite of his having been made aware of the connection of the family with
+the tragedy of that wretched schoolmaster. Mrs. Burney took no account
+of the effect of Bach's marvellous music upon a young man who was a
+lover in the rough. In this respect, as has been indicated, she did not
+differ from the young man himself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+|IT was at the Pantheon in the Oxford Road a fortnight later, that Mrs.
+Thrale, the brewer's lively wife, had an opportunity of shining, by a
+display of that _esprit_ which caused Mr. Garrick to affirm solemnly
+that if she had gone upon the stage she would have been a dangerous
+rival to Mistress Clive; and Fanny Burney, with her father and Mr.
+Linley, the father of the beautiful Mrs. Sheridan, was a witness of the
+ease with which the lady sparkled as she described for the benefit of
+the circle how Mr. Garrick's jest at the expense of poor Mr. Kendal and
+the Widow Nash had set all the Wells laughing. She imitated Mr. Garrick
+to his face, in offering his congratulations to Mr. Kendal and so
+setting the ball a-rolling until within an hour the poor, silly
+gentleman had been offered the felicitations of half the Wells upon his
+engagement to Widow Nash. Mrs. Thrale re-enacted with great gravity
+the part she had played in Mr. Garrick's plot, and then she hastened
+to imitate Mrs. Cholmondeley's part, and even Mr. Sheridan's, upon that
+lively morning at Tunbridge Wells.
+
+But there was much more to tell, and Mrs. Thrale took very good care to
+abate nothing of her narrative; it gave her so good a chance of acting,
+and it gave Mr. Garrick so good a chance of complimenting her before all
+the company.
+
+“Oh, I vow that we played our parts to perfection,” she cried, “and
+without any rehearsal either. But then what happened? You will scarce
+believe it, Mr. Garrick has always borne such a character for scrupulous
+honour in his dealings with his companies, but indeed 'tis a fact that
+our manager decamped as soon as he found that the poor man had been
+teased to the verge of madness by the fooling he had started--off he
+went, we knew not whither; leaving no message for any of us. He was not
+to be found by noon; and what happened by dinner-time? Why, the poor
+gentleman whom we had been fooling had also fled!”
+
+“That was indeed too bad of Mr. Kendal,” said Dr. Burney.
+
+“'Twas too inconsiderate of him truly,” cried Mrs. Thrale. “'Tis no
+great matter if the manager of the playhouse runs away when his play
+is produced--you remember that Mr. Colman hurried off to Bath to escape
+lampooners when the success of Dr. Goldsmith's comedy _She Stoops to
+Conquer_ had proved to all the town that he was no judge of a play;
+but for the one who has been made the object of such a jest as ours to
+escape without giving us a chance of bringing our teasing to a fitting
+climax is surely little short of infamous.”
+
+“And when did you design the fitting climax to arrive, madam?” asked one
+of the circle.
+
+“Why, when the gentleman and lady should come face to face in the
+Assembly Rooms, to be sure,” replied Mrs. Thrale. “We were all there to
+await the scene of their meeting; and you can judge of our chagrin when
+only the lady appeared.”
+
+“We can do so, indeed,” said Mrs. Darner, who was also in the circle. “I
+can well believe that you were furious. When one has arranged a burletta
+for two characters 'tis infamous when only one of the actors appears on
+the stage.”
+
+Mrs. Thrale smiled the smile of the lady who knows that she is
+harbouring a surprise for her friends and only awaits the right moment
+to spring it upon them--a cat to be let out of the bag at the pulling of
+a string.
+
+“I knew that we should have your sympathy, Mrs. Darner,” she said
+demurely. “You have, I doubt not, more than once experienced all the
+chagrin that follows the miscarrying of a well-planned scheme. But as
+it so happened, we were more than compensated for our ill-usage at that
+time by the unlooked-for appearance of the missing actor two nights
+later.”
+
+“Oh, lud!” cried Mrs. Darner, holding up both her hands in a very dainty
+way.
+
+Mr. Garrick also lifted up his hands in amazement, but he did not need
+to exclaim anything to emphasize the effect of his gesture.
+
+Dr. Burney smiled, trying to catch the eye of Mr. Garrick, but Mr.
+Garrick took very good care that he should not succeed in doing so.
+
+“You may well cry, 'oh, lud!'” said Mrs. Thrale. “But if you had been
+in the Rooms when the man entered you would not have been able to say a
+word for surprise, I promise you. The poor gentleman had posted all the
+way from town to Tunbridge, apparently for our diversion only, and what
+a sight he was! It seems that he had got over his fright at the coupling
+of his name with the lady's, while flying to London, but from this point
+a reaction set in, and he spent all the time that he was posting back to
+the Wells adding fuel to the fire of his resolution to throw himself
+at the feet of the lady at the earliest possible moment. Was there ever
+such a comedy played, Mr. Garrick?”
+
+“'Twould be too extravagant for the theatre, madam, but not for Nature's
+playhouse,” replied Garrick. “I have more than once been told the story
+of soldiers having fled in a panic from the field of battle, but on
+finding themselves in a place of safety they returned to the fight and
+fought like demons. Was there aught that could be termed demoniacal
+in the gentleman's conduct on finding himself face to face with the
+enemy--I mean the lady?”
+
+“Aught demoniacal, do you ask me?” cried Mrs. Thrale. “Oh, sir, have
+you not heard the parable of the demon that was cast out of a man, but
+finding its homeless condition unsupportable, sought out seven of its
+friends and returned with them to its former habitation, so that the
+last state of the man was more demoniacal than the first?”
+
+“I fancy I have heard the parable, madam, but its application----” began
+Garrick, when Mrs.
+
+Darner broke in upon him, crying:
+
+“Do not ever attempt to point out the aptness of the application of
+a parable, Mrs. Thrale. Do not, if you are wise. Would you lead us to
+believe that the unhappy wretch found it necessary to post up to town
+to obtain his relay of demons for his own discomfiture when so much rank
+and fashion was at the Wells, though at the fag end of the season?”
+
+“Leaving parables aside, demons and all, I can bear witness to
+the condition of the man when he entered the Rooms and strode with
+determination on his face up to where the Widow Nash was fanning
+herself--not without need,” said Mrs. Thrale. “It so happened that she
+was seated under the gallery at the furthest end of the Rooms, but our
+gentleman did not pause on entering to look round for her--I tell you
+that it seemed as if he went by instinct straight up to her, and bowing
+before her, said: 'Madam, may I beg the honour of a word or two with you
+in private?'--I was close by and so were several other equally credible
+witnesses, and we heard every word. The widow looked at him coolly----”
+
+“Yes, you said she had been fanning herself,” remarked Mrs. Darner, but
+without interrupting the flow of the narrative.
+
+“There was no need of a fan for her voice, I can assure you, when she
+had completed her survey of the dusty gentleman and thought fit to
+reply to him,” continued Mrs. Thrale. “'I vow, sir,' said she, 'that I
+consider this room sufficiently private for anything you have to say
+to me.' She had plainly got wind of Mr. Garrick's plot and so was fully
+prepared for the worst--though some people might call it the best--that
+could happen. 'Madam,' said Mr. Kendal, 'what I have to say is meant for
+your ear alone,' and I am bound to admit that he spoke with suavity
+and dignity. 'Pray let my friends here be the judges of that,' said the
+widow. That was a pretty rebuff for any gentleman with a sense of his
+own dignity, you will say; but he did not seem to accept it in such a
+spirit. He hesitated, but only for a few moments, then he looked around
+him to see who were within hearing, and with hardly a pause, he said in
+the clearest of tones, 'I perceive that we are surrounded just now with
+some ladies who, two days ago, offered me congratulations upon my good
+fortune in winning your promise, madam; and I venture now to come
+before you to implore of you to give me permission to assume that their
+congratulations were well founded'--those were his words; we did not
+think that he had it in him to express himself so well.”
+
+“And what was the lady's reply?” asked Dr. Burney, recalling the
+prophecy in which he had indulged when parting from Garrick at his own
+door.
+
+“The lady's reply was disappointing, though dignified,” replied Mrs.
+Thrale. “'Sir,' she said, 'I have oft heard that the credulity of a man
+has no limits, but I have never before had so conspicuous an instance of
+the truth of this. Surely the merest schoolboy would have been able to
+inform you that you were being made the victim of one of Mr. Garrick's
+silly jests--that these ladies here lent themselves to the transaction,
+hoping to make a fool of me as well as of you; but I trust that they
+are now aware of the fact that I, at least, perceived the truth from the
+first, so that whoever has been fooled I am not that person; and so
+I have the honour to wish you and them a very good evening.' Then she
+treated us to a very elaborate curtsey and stalked away to the door,
+leaving us all amazed at her display of dignity--real dignity, not the
+stage imitation, Mr. Garrick.”
+
+“You should have been there, if only to receive a lesson, Mr. Garrick,”
+ said Mrs. Damer.
+
+“I hope those who had the good fortune to be present were taught a
+lesson,” said another lady in the circle.
+
+“If you mean me, madam,” said Mrs. Thrale, with tactful good humour,
+“I frankly allow that I profited greatly by observing the scene. 'Tis
+a dangerous game to play--that of trying to show others in a ridiculous
+light, and in future I vow that all my attention shall be given to the
+duty of avoiding making a fool of myself. Your jest miscarried, Mr.
+Garrick; though how that gentleman who fled from the Wells in that
+headlong fashion was induced to return, is beyond my knowledge.”
+
+“Psha! madam, the fellow is a coxcomb and not worth discussing,” cried
+Garrick. “He got no more than his deserts when the lady left him to be
+the laughing-stock of the Assembly. I knew that that would be his fate
+if he ever succeeded in summing up sufficient courage to face her.”
+
+“But strange to say, we did not laugh at him then,” said Mrs. Thrale.
+“He seemed to be quite a different man from the one whom we had tried
+to fool two days earlier. There was a certain dignity about him that
+disarmed us. You must allow, Mr. Garrick, that only the bravest of men
+would have had the courage to march up the Assembly Rooms and make his
+proposal to the lady in public.”
+
+“That is the courage of the coxcomb who believes himself to be
+irresistible to the other sex, madam,” said Garrick; “and I affirm that
+'twas most reprehensible to refrain from laughing at him.” Then, putting
+his arm through that of Burney as if to stroll on with him, and so
+give the others to understand that he had had enough of Mr. Kendal as a
+topic, he whispered:
+
+“Ha, my friend, did not I prophesy aright what would be the fellow's
+fate? I know men, and women, too--ay, in some measure, though they are
+sealed books, eh, friend Burney? And you tried to persuade me that she
+would not snub him? I knew better--I knew that she--eh, what--what are
+they staring at?”
+
+“They are staring at the appearance of Mr. Kendal with the Widow Nash on
+his arm--there they are, David, and you are staring at them too,” said
+Burney with a smile.
+
+“Angels and Ministers of Grace! 'Tis a man and his wife we are staring
+at! The woman has married him after all!” cried David, his hand dropping
+limply from Burney's shoulder. “A man and his wife: I know the look in
+their faces!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+|IT was, indeed, the same man who had come to consult Dr. Burney, but
+had not been allowed the chance of doing so by Garrick, a fortnight
+before--the same man, but with a marked difference, who was now walking
+across the pillared room in the Pantheon, with a smiling, well-favoured
+lady by his side; and toward the pair the eyes of all the circle whom
+Mrs. Thrale had been addressing were directed.
+
+Mrs. Thrale and her friends were too much amazed to be able to speak,
+but the lips of every one of them were holding back some exclamation of
+surprise: an acute observer would have been able easily to set down the
+various unuttered exclamations of the party, from the simple “Oh,
+Lud!” of Mrs. Thrale to the more emphatic “Merciful Powers!” of Mrs.
+Cholmondeley, though not a word was spoken between them, while Mr.
+Kendal and the lady walked, straight through the room to where they were
+standing.
+
+“Slip behind the pillar: I will cover you, my friend,” whispered Dr.
+Burney to Garrick.
+
+But Garrick had no intention of doing anything so ignominious--more
+especially as he perceived that Mr. Kendal had caught sight of him; and
+it was really Garrick who advanced to meet the couple, with the air of
+a host about to welcome two long-expected guests--it was really Garrick
+who received them with one of his finest bows, and who--to add to the
+amazement of the group behind him--was greeted by Mr. Kendal and the
+lady with the friendliest of smiles (the lady was blushing, not Mr.
+Garrick).
+
+And then it was to Dr. Burney the gentleman turned.
+
+“Dear sir,” he cried, “with what words should I approach you? It is to
+your counsel and Mr. Garrick's that I owe my happiness.” Then he made
+his bow to the others of the group.
+
+“Mrs. Thrale,” he said, when he had recovered himself, “we hoped to find
+you here with your friends, so that we might lose no moment in offering
+you our thanks for the tactful way in which you brought us together.
+Only such genius as yours, madam, could have perceived--well, all
+that you did perceive. I protest that neither Mrs. Kendal nor myself
+apprehended the too flattering truth. But the heart of a woman who has
+herself loved--ah, that is the source of such genius as you displayed
+with such subtlety. She is mine, madam; we have been married a whole
+week, and I, at least, know what a treasure--but I cannot trust myself
+to talk of my happiness just now. Perhaps at some future time I shall
+be able to tell you coherently how I felt within me that my Diana--Mrs.
+Nash, as she was then--did not mean her rebuff as a final dismissal, and
+thus I was led to her side--to implore an audience of her, in the course
+of which she confessed to me that----”
+
+But his bride prevented the flow of his eloquence by tapping him under
+the chin in exquisite playfulness with her fan, smiling roguishly at him
+first, and then looking round the group with an air of chastened triumph
+while she said:
+
+“Foolish man! Prithee remember, Ferdinand, that you are in a public
+place, and that the secrets of the confessional are sacred. I protest
+that you are exceeding a husband's privilege in revealing aught that I
+confessed when taken aback at your sudden appearance before me!”
+
+“I ask your pardon, my angel,” he cried. “I had no right to say even the
+little that I have said. I suppose I shall learn discretion in time and
+with practice. But when I think of the kindly interest that some of our
+friends here showed in bringing us together, I feel that they should be
+rewarded by a repetition of the whole story.”
+
+“Nay, nay, sir, you may take my word for it that we look not for such a
+reward,” cried Garrick. “Such philanthropists as Mrs. Thrale and myself
+feel more than rewarded when we succeed in bringing together a lady and
+gentleman who were so plainly intended by Providence for each other's
+happiness.”
+
+“It was Mr. Garrick who looked with the eyes of Providence into your
+case as associated with Mr. Kendal, madam. That is, if Puck may ever be
+thought of as assuming the rôle of Providence,” said Mrs. Thrale. “For
+myself, I believe that Puck has more to do with the making of matches
+than heaven; and assuredly in this particular case the mischievous fairy
+had more than a finger. But however that may be, we can still wish you
+every happiness in life, and offer you an apology for----”
+
+“H'sh!” whispered Garrick, raising a hand. “Rauzzini is beginning to
+sing. I am sure, Mrs. Kendal, that you will willingly accept Signor
+Rauzzini's song in lieu of Mrs. Thrale's apology, however admirably
+worded the latter were sure to be.”
+
+The bride smiled benignly at Mrs. Thrale, and there was more than a
+trace of triumph in her smile.
+
+Dr. Burney smiled also at the adroitness of the actor, who, he could
+perceive, had no intention of allowing himself to be incriminated by any
+confession, assuming the form of an apology, that Mrs. Thrale might make
+in a moment of contrition for having been a partner with him in a piece
+of fooling that had had a very different result from the one he (and
+she) had looked for.
+
+Garrick, still holding up a warning finger as if he had at heart the
+best interests of the composer as well as the singer of “Waft her,
+Angels,” prevented another word from being spoken, though more than a
+full minute had passed before Rauzzini had breathed the first notes of
+the recitativo.
+
+But incautiously lowering his finger when the handsome Roman had begun,
+Mrs. Thrale took advantage of her release from the thraldom imposed upon
+her, to say in a low tone, looking toward the gallery in front of which
+the singer stood:
+
+“It is one angel talking to the others! Was there ever so angelic a
+man?”
+
+And little Miss Burney, who had also her eyes fixed upon the singer,
+felt that little Mrs. Thrale was not merely an angel, but a goddess. She
+expressed her opinion to this effect in her next letter to Mr. Crisp.
+
+She listened in a dream to the singing that no one could hear and remain
+unmoved, even though one had not the advantage of looking at the singer
+at the same time. Fanny Burney was too shortsighted to be able to
+distinguish one face from another at such a distance; but this made
+no difference to her; she had the face of the sweet singer ever before
+her--most clearly when she closed her eyes, as she did now, and listened
+to him.
+
+“Waft her, angels, to the skies--Waft her, angels, waft her, angels,
+waft her to the skies,” rang out his fervent imploration, and she felt
+that there were no powers that could withstand the force of such an
+appeal. For herself she felt carried away on the wings of song into the
+highest heaven. She felt that harps of heaven alone could provide an
+adequate accompaniment to such a voice as his; and she gave herself up
+to it as unreservedly as a bride gives herself to the arms of her lover.
+She had that sensation of a sweet yielding to the divine influence of
+the music until she could feel it enfolding her and bearing her into the
+infinite azure of a realm more beautiful than any that her dreams had
+borne her to in the past. She wanted nothing better than this in any
+world. All that she wanted was an assurance that it would continue for
+ever and ever....
+
+With the cessation of the singing she seemed to awaken from a dream of
+divine delight, and in her awaking to retain the last thought that had
+been hers--the longing for an assurance that the delight which she was
+feeling would endure. She was awake now, and she knew that love had been
+all her dream, and that what she longed for was the assurance that
+that love would continue. And now she remembered that it was this same
+longing that had brought about her resolution that she would never go to
+her King as the beggar maid had gone to King Cophetua. There would be
+no assurance of the continuing of love between them if she had the
+humiliating feeling that he had stooped to raise her to his level.
+
+That was the thought which took possession of her mind when she had
+returned from the sublimities to which she had been borne by her lover's
+singing, and in another minute the reaction had come. She had been
+soaring high, but now she was conscious of a sinking at heart; for the
+whole building was resounding with acclamations of the singer. There did
+not seem to be anyone silent, save only herself, throughout the hall.
+Everyone seemed calling the name of Rauzzini--all seemed ready to
+throw themselves at his feet; and when he stood up to acknowledge their
+tribute of enthusiasm to his marvellous powers, there was something of
+frenzy in the way his name was flung from hundreds of voices--it was
+not enough for the people whom he had stirred to shout his name, they
+surrounded him with the banners of a great conqueror--the air was
+quivering with the lace and the silk that were being waved on all sides
+to do him honour--handkerchiefs, scarves, fans--the air was full of
+them.
+
+And there he stood high above them, smiling calmly and bending his head
+gravely to right and left in acknowledgment of all....
+
+That was his position before the world. Her heart sank within her as she
+asked herself what was hers. How could she ever hope to attain to such a
+place as should win from the world such applause as this? How could
+she ever be so vain as to think that the giving of a little book to
+the world should have an effect worthy of being compared with this
+demonstration which was shaking the Pantheon?
+
+Her heart sank to a deeper depth still when the thunders had passed
+away--reluctantly as the reverberations of a great storm--and there was
+a buzz of voices all about her--exclamations of delight--whispers of
+admiration--ladies with clasped hands, fervent in their words about the
+marvellous face of the young Roman--and her father and his friend, Mr.
+Fulke Greville, exchanging recollections of the singing of the same air
+by other vocalists, and coming gradually to the conclusion that none had
+put such feeling into it as had Rauzzini.
+
+The buzz of voices did not cease when the singer had come down from his
+gallery and was greeting some of his friends on the floor of the great
+hall. He had trouble in making his way as far as the group which he
+meant to reach. The most distinguished ladies of high quality had
+pressed round him with uncritical expressions of appreciation of his
+singing, and there was no lack of gentlemen of fashion to follow their
+example, though wondering greatly that the ladies of quality should
+allow themselves to show such transports respecting a man with no trait
+of a true-born Englishman about him. Signor Rauzzini might have indulged
+in a score of pinches of snuff out of the gold and enamelled boxes that
+were thrust forward for his acceptance with the finest artificial grace
+of a period when it was not thought effeminate to be graceful over small
+things.
+
+He bowed low to the ladies of quality, and smiled his polite rejection
+of the snuff of the gentlemen of fashion. But such convenances made it
+impossible for him to keep his eyes upon the group toward which he
+was making a necessarily slow way, and he only reached the side of Dr.
+Burney to find that Dr. Burney's daughter had disappeared. He had no
+chance of seeing how Miss Burney at his approach had slipped behind
+a pillar and suffered herself to be conducted thence to a seat by her
+cousin Edward: the fact that Edward was learning to be a painter was a
+sufficient excuse for his paying an occasional visit to such scenes
+of colour as were unfolded before the eyes of a frequenter of the
+fashionable Pantheon every night.
+
+Fanny felt that if Signor Rauzzini had come to her side after passing
+through the ranks of lace and velvet and brocade, she would have sunk
+through the floor of the hall. But she knew that it was to her side he
+was coming, and she took the opportunity of flying when he was compelled
+to make a pause in front of the flattery of the Duchess of Ancaster.
+
+She was painfully shy at all times, but overwhelmingly so at that
+moment, though she knew that she was the only woman in the place who
+would make the attempt to evade the distinction which threatened her.
+How could she remain where she had been with all eyes in the room upon
+her? She felt that it would be impossible.
+
+Her heart was beating quickly as she thought:
+
+“Not yet--not yet.”
+
+After all there is no more womanly trait than that of fleeing from a
+lover; but Fanny Burney was yielding to its impulse without an attempt
+to analyse it, and without being consoled by the reflection of the
+woman of the younger world, that if it is woman's instinct to fly from a
+lover, it is a lover's instinct to pursue.
+
+She had scarcely finished the cup of ice which her cousin had brought
+her, before the man had found her.
+
+But now the Gabrielli was beginning to sing, and all eyes were directed
+upon the Gabrielli, so that no one but Rauzzini saw how Dr. Burney's
+over-shy daughter was flushing.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+|THEY spoke in French, with an occasional phrase in Italian when they
+found the other tongue lacking in melody or in the exact shade of
+meaning that they sought to express. Edward Burney thought that the
+moment was one that favoured his ambition to study the pose of Madame
+Gabrielli, with a view to starting on a portrait that should make him
+famous. He asked Fanny's permission to allow him to take up a place
+a few yards beyond the pillar. He promised not to be long absent, and
+Fanny had not the heart to detain him.
+
+“You fled from me--was that kind?” asked Rauzzini when the cousin had
+moved away, but was still in view.
+
+“Ah,” said she, “one who has my odious selfconsciousness does not ask
+what is kind or unkind, she simply flies.”
+
+“But you knew that I was coming to your side?” said he.
+
+“I know that you are wise enough to value the criticism of a musician
+like my father above the vapid phrases of the people of fashion,”
+ replied Fanny.
+
+“That is true indeed,” said he. “I value a word of praise or blame from
+Dr. Burney as precious. But Dr. Burney has a daughter whose words are to
+me as precious.”
+
+“She is not here to-night,” said Fanny. “My sister Esther, to whom you
+refer, is indeed a discriminating critic. She told me how exquisitely
+you sang at the concert where you met her--it is scarcely a fortnight
+ago.”
+
+“Dr. Burney has more daughters than that one,” said he.
+
+Fanny laughed.
+
+“He has indeed more daughters than one,” she said. “We were a household
+of daughters before Esther married and when my brother was in the South
+Seas. But only Esther is critical as a musician.”
+
+“In the name of heaven, do you think that it is only possible for me to
+value words that refer to my singing?” he asked. “Do you not know that I
+would rather listen to your voice than----”
+
+“Than Madame Gabrielli's?” said Fanny; he had spoken his last sentence
+in too loud a tone, even though the Gabrielli's brilliant vocalism
+usually admitted of a conversation being carried on with some vehemence
+in the great room of the Pantheon without causing remark.
+
+He smiled at her warning, and it was in a subdued voice that he said:
+
+“I am tired of hearing the Gabrielli; but what of your voice? How often
+have you given me the chance of hearing it? Even now you fled from me as
+though I carried the plague about with me! Was that kind or unkind?”
+
+“You do not entertain the thought that perhaps I have not yet tired
+of Madame Gabrielli's vocalism: I knew that she was at the point of
+beginning her aria.”
+
+“You would sacrifice me on the altar of your favourite? Well, perhaps
+you would be justified in doing so. Hold up your finger now and I shall
+be mute as a fish until Gabrielli has had her last shriek. I can still
+look at you--it will not spoil your appreciation of the aria if I merely
+look at you.”
+
+“I think I would rather that you talked to me than merely looked at me.
+I do not invite people to look at me, and happily few people do. I am
+not conspicuous. I am the insignificant one. There is Mrs. Thrale, for
+instance; she has been several times at our house, and every time she
+comes she inquires who is the little one.”
+
+He smiled and held up his finger in imitation of the way she had rebuked
+him for talking too loud.
+
+“H'sh; I am anxious to hear the Signora Gabrielli,” he said, and the
+express on that he made his face assume at that moment would
+have convinced anyone that he was giving all his attention to the
+singing--drinking in every note with the earnestness of an enthusiast.
+There was a certain boyish exaggeration in his expression that was very
+amusing to Fanny, though less observing persons would have been ready
+to accept it as evidence of the generous appreciation on the part of one
+great singer of the success of another.
+
+So he remained until the _cavatina_ had come to an end; and then he was
+loudest in his cry of “Brava!”
+
+“It is a treat--a great--a sacred treat,” said he, turning to Fanny. “I
+do not think I ever heard that song before. Has it a name, I wonder?”
+
+“If I mistake not it is from an opera in which a certain Roman tenore
+made a name for himself last year, in happy conjunction with Madame
+Gabrielli,” said Fanny.
+
+“Is it possible? I had not heard of that circumstance,” said he, with a
+look of the most charming innocence in his large eyes. It was his hands
+that were most expressive, however, as he added:
+
+“But it was last year, you say, mademoiselle? Ah, who is it that
+remembers an opera from one year to another? No one, except the
+_impresario_ who has lost his good money, or somebody's else's money,
+over its production. Enough, the _cantatrice_ has given us of her best,
+and is there now any reason why we should remain dumb? The great charm
+of the singing of these brilliant artistes of last year's operas is that
+when they have sung, they have sung--they leave one nothing to think
+about afterward. Is not that so, mademoiselle?”
+
+“They leave one nothing to think about--except their singing,” said
+Fanny. “For myself, I am still thinking of 'Waft her, angels,' although
+nearly half an hour must have passed since I heard the last notes. And
+it seems to me that when half a century will have passed I shall still
+be thinking of it.”
+
+He did not offer her the conventional acknowledgement of a bow. He
+only looked at her with those large eyes of his; they were capable of
+expressing in a single glance all the tenderness of feeling of a poem.
+
+“I have not sung in vain,” he said in a low tone. “My old _maestro_ gave
+me the advice one day when I was proving to him my success in reaching
+the high note which I had been striving for years to bring into my
+compass: 'That is all very well,' he said. 'You have aimed at touching
+that rare note, now your aim must be to touch the heart of everyone who
+hears you sing.' I sometimes think that he set for me too difficult a
+task.”
+
+“Not too difficult--for you,” said she.
+
+“There are dangers,” he said thoughtfully. “I have known singers who
+tried to reach the hearts of their hearers by tricks--yes, and they
+succeeded through these illegitimate means in making themselves popular,
+while far better singers who had a scorn of such tricks and gave their
+best to all who listened to them, failed to please anyone who had not a
+knowledge of the true boundary of music.”
+
+“I have seen these tricksters, too,” said Fanny. “I have witnessed their
+sentimental grimaces--their head shakings--their appeal to the feelings
+with pathetic eyes turned heavenward. They made me ashamed of
+them--ashamed of myself for listening to them, though people about me
+had been moved to tears. But I think that the people who are easily
+moved to tears are those who retain an impression the shortest space of
+time.”
+
+“You give me confidence--encouragement,” he cried. “I have made up my
+mind that if I cannot reach a heart by the straight King's highway, I
+will not try to do so by any bypath. Bypaths are, we know, the resorts
+of brigands: they may captivate a heart or two, but only to leave them
+empty afterwards.”
+
+So they talked together for many minutes. Faney Burney had a sufficient
+acquaintance among musicians, vocal as well as instrumental, to have
+learned, long ago, that they can easily be prevented from talking on any
+other subject than music, and the same reflection that had caused her
+to say that “Not yet--not yet,” had impelled her to lead Rauzzini in
+another direction than that in which he had shown so strong a tendency
+to go. He had been trying to make her understand that he had travelled
+through the obstructions of the hall not in order that he might obtain
+the criticism of so accomplished a _maestro_ as Dr. Burney upon his
+singing, but in order that he should have a chance of talking to Dr.
+Burney's unaccomplished daughter; he had shown her that his wish was to
+converse on the topic of this unaccomplished daughter; but she had no
+mind to acquiesce in his aims for the present. She still felt herself to
+be the beggar maid, and she would not allow her king to get any nearer
+to her.
+
+It was not until her cousin had returned to where she was seated, that
+the young Italian found that he had not made much progress with his
+suit. He had intended that this _tête-à-tête_ with her should make
+her aware of how he felt in regard to her, but he had allowed his
+opportunity to pass, and in place of talking about her he had been led
+to talk of himself.
+
+That was how he expressed himself to her when he found that their
+_tête-à-tête_ was at an end.
+
+“How has this come about?” he cried in surprise. “How is it that I have
+shown myself to be so vain as to make speeches about my singing when I
+meant to talk to you of yourself?”
+
+“'Twas I who found a more profitable topic for you, _signore mio_,” she
+replied, feeling her way through the words of his native tongue, for he
+had spoken out his surprise in Italian.
+
+He shook his head and made a gesture with his hands.
+
+“But it is a mystery!” he said in French. “I had no desire to talk about
+myself or my singing. I meant to tell you what was in my mind when I saw
+you entering this place with your father. Shall we retrace our steps in
+our conversation until I find how it was that I took a wrong turning?
+Alas! I fear that it would not be possible!”
+
+“It would not be possible, indeed,” she replied. “Did you not say
+something about the bypaths being dangerous with banditti? We kept
+our feet upon the King's highway, which is safe. I was swept off my
+feet--carried away--away--by your singing of the aria; I had scarce
+touched the earth once more when you came to my side, and now we are
+parting happily, you to realize your aspirations, I to--to--well,
+to retain for ever the memory of your singing--the memory of those
+celestial harmonies into the midst of which I was wafted by the angels
+of your imploration. That is enough for one evening of my life. Nay, you
+must not speak another word lest the charm of all should fade away. I
+shall go home to dream of angels.”
+
+“And I shall go to dream of you,” he said in a low tone.
+
+He did not hold her hand so long as Thomas Barlowe had done when parting
+from her, but she felt that somehow he had accomplished more by his
+reserve than Thomas had achieved by his impetuosity. She hoped that she
+might never see Thomas again; but for Signor Rauzzini----
+
+They parted.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+|THESE foreigners!” exclaimed young Edward Burney when Rauzzini had left
+them, and Fanny was asking her cousin if her father was not looking for
+her. “These foreigners! Your father is talking with another of them--an
+Italian too, as I live--I have seen him in St. Martin's Street--Signor
+Piozzi. But I suppose Uncle Burney likes to keep in touch with them. The
+town is swarming with them: they are even to be found about Leicester
+Fields. Why do some people fancy that we must have Italians to sing
+for us? There are plenty of good singers in England, without a drop of
+foreign blood in their veins. A good sea song with a chorus that is easy
+to get into the swing of--that's English and honest.”
+
+“Honest down to the hoarsest note,” said Fanny. “You and James are at
+one in the matter of songs.”
+
+“Cousin Jim hates foreigners, as is quite proper that an officer in a
+King's ship should,” said Edward stoutly.
+
+“Not all foreigners,” said Fanny smiling. “You forget how kindly he took
+to Prince Omai.”
+
+“Oh, a South Sea Islander is different,” cried her cousin. “I expect
+that the South Seas will soon become as English as ourselves if Captain
+Cook goes on discovering islands.”
+
+“Edward,” said Fanny, after a pause sufficient to allow of the
+introduction of a new topic; “Edward, could you make it convenient to
+call at the Orange Coffee House some day soon to inquire if there is
+another letter for Mr. Grafton?”
+
+“I'll not omit it on any account,” he replied. “Oh, yes, Mr. Grafton,
+I'll collect your correspondence for you, never fear. You have not let
+anyone else into the secret, I hope?”
+
+“No one knows it except Susy and Lottie and Charles and Hetty; but Hetty
+only knows that I wrote the book, not that it is to be printed--Charles
+is still away from us, or I would not trouble you, Edward.”
+
+“Poor Charlie grew tired of the Orange Coffee House, did he not? He told
+me how you made him your messenger at first, disguising him in a cloak
+and a gentleman's hat, so that he might not seem quite the boy that he
+was. But how the secret has been kept so well is a wonder to me--kept
+from the powers that be, I mean--uncle and aunt. I wonder if your mother
+never had a suspicion of what was going on, especially as she knew all
+about your writing long ago.”
+
+“I think that it was the copying out of the padre's History that saved
+me,” said Fanny. “Many a page of my novel I wrote when she believed that
+I was copying the notes for the History--yes, that, and the letters
+which Mr. Crisp insists on my sending him every week. But even with
+these excuses I could sometimes not get through more than three or four
+pages of my own book during a whole week.”
+
+“How will you look when the secret is let out--it must be let out some
+day, you know? If the writing a novel is thought shocking, how will
+Uncle Burney receive the news, think you? He has not yet given you leave
+to publish it.”
+
+There was a troubled look on poor Fanny's face as she replied, after a
+pause:
+
+“I have often meant to ask father's permission, but I was not able to
+summon up courage enough to face him with the whole truth. But it cannot
+be delayed much longer. Perhaps I might write him a letter about it some
+time when I am at Chessington.”
+
+“I don't envy you the duty, my dear Fanny,” said lie. “But I think that
+the sooner you get it over the easier you will feel. I suppose that
+writing a novel is worse than writing a 'History of Music.' I wonder why
+you took so much trouble over the business.”
+
+“I could not help it,” she cried. “I have often wondered myself why I
+was sitting up in that cold room at the top of the house, writing until
+my fingers were benumbed, when I might have been at my comfortable
+sewing in front of a fire downstairs; but I could not help it--I could
+not help doing it, Eddy.”
+
+Eddy never reached that point in his career as a painter when he found
+the artist's impulse to create too great to be resisted. He could not
+appreciate her explanation.
+
+“'I couldn't help it,' that's what we were used to say long ago, when
+we got into mischief; I hope that Uncle Burney and Aunt Burney--don't
+forget her in this matter--I hope that they will accept your excuse.
+Anyhow, you may trust me to act as your 'Mr. Grafton' at the Orange
+Coffee House some day this week.”
+
+He caught a glimpse of his uncle, Dr. Burney, sitting with Mr. Greville,
+so that he had no trouble in placing Fanny once more in charge of her
+father. He could see that the girl was a little downcast, and tried to
+cheer her up a bit by whispering in a sly way into her ear:
+
+“Good-night, Mr. Grafton; my best respects to Mrs. Grafton and the
+children--especially Evelina.”
+
+The smile that Fanny gave in acknowledgment of his pleasantry did not
+quite carry conviction that his well-meant effort had been successful.
+He went away feeling as much sympathy for her as was possible for him
+to have in common with the reflection that if she was in a difficult
+position, it was wholly one of her own seeking. What could have induced
+a girl who had been carefully brought up, and provided with an excellent
+stepmother, to write a novel, placing herself thereby on a level
+with those dreadful ladies whose productions were prohibited in every
+self-respecting household and only read by stealth when obtained at
+a cost of twopence--more than the best of them were worth--at the
+circulating library?
+
+Yes, poor Fanny was undoubtedly to be pitied; but she had really only
+herself to blame for the trouble that was looming in front of her when
+the secret of her authorship should be revealed to her father and her
+excellent stepmother--one of the best judges to be found anywhere of all
+sorts of needlework--not merely plain sewing and buttonholing, but satin
+stitch, herring-boning and running and felling.
+
+The very next day Cousin Edward called at St. Martin's Street, carrying
+with him a small parcel neatly done up in white paper. He was lucky
+enough to find Fanny and Susan alone in the work-room; and after asking
+mysteriously if there was any chance of his uncle or aunt coming
+upon them, and being assured that they were both away for the day, he
+carefully locked the door of the room, saying in the whisper of a man of
+plots and mysteries:
+
+“'Tis better to be sure than sorry. In matters of this nature 'tis
+impossible to be too cautious.”
+
+He then handed the parcel to Fanny, who gave an exclamation when she saw
+that it was addressed:
+
+“_To Mr. Grafton, at the Orange Coffee House, Orange Street_.”
+
+She opened the parcel, and found it to contain a printer's unbound copy
+of a book, the title page of which stared up at her: “_Evelina; or, A
+Young Lady's Entrance into the World_,” and with it was a letter from
+Mr. Lowndes, the bookseller, presenting his compliments to Mr. Grafton,
+with the request that Mr. Grafton would read the book and prove it as
+soon as possible, returning the list of errata to Mr. Lowndes, so that
+the edition might go to press for early publication.
+
+There it lay on the table in front of her. She read the letter standing,
+and remained on her feet, looking down at the unbound book. It had a
+queer, half-dressed appearance, lacking covers; and when, after some
+minutes of silence, Susy took a step or two closer to it, and, with her
+hand on Fanny's arm, looked down on it also, the picture that they made
+suggested two sisters looking into the cradle where the first baby of
+one of them lay. The expression on Susy's face--a mingling of wonder and
+curiosity, with delight not far off--was exactly that which the younger
+sister of the picture might be expected to wear, catching a glimpse of
+the undressed morsel of humanity in its first cot.
+
+Susy put her hand down to it, and moved the printed sheets about. She
+read the title page down to the last name on the imprint, and then she
+flung up her hands, crying:
+
+“How lovely! how lovely! But it seems wonderful! How did it come into
+being? It looks like a real thing now that we see it printed. The copy
+that you wrote out in that disguised hand seemed somehow quite different
+from this. There is life in this. It feels warm, actually warm, Fanny.
+Oh, don't you love it, dear?”
+
+Fanny, the young mother, shook her head, but with no significance, so
+far as Susy could see.
+
+“'Tis too late now,” said Edward gloomily, taking on himself the burden
+of interpreting that head-shake. “You are bound down to go on with it
+now. You should have thought of all this before.”
+
+“What nonsense is this you are talking?” cried Susy, turning upon
+him almost indignantly; for his tone suggested an aspersion upon the
+offspring. “What do you say is too late now? Do you mean to say that
+there's anything to be ashamed of in this? Cannot you see that she did
+not put her name to it? Who is there to know that it came from this
+house? The name of Burney nowhere appears on it.”
+
+“That's so much, at any rate,” said he.
+
+“Do you mean to say that you don't think it quite wonderful, Eddy?”
+ cried Susy. “And getting twenty pounds for it--twenty pounds! And you
+say something about it being too late!”
+
+“I only judged from the way Fanny shook her head,” said he.
+
+“Oh, that was not what Fanny was thinking at all--now was it, Fanny?”
+ said Susy encouragingly to her sister.
+
+“I don't know quite what I meant or what I mean even now,” replied
+Fanny. “It made me feel for the moment somehow as if I had appeared in a
+street full of people before I had quite finished dressing!”
+
+“Ah!” exclaimed Edward.
+
+“But that is nonsense, dear,” said Susy, still consolatory. “The book is
+not yourself.”
+
+“Not all myself, but part of myself--that is what I feel,” said Fanny.
+
+“I cannot see that that is so. You are you--you yourself quite apart
+from the book. Whatever the book may be, you will still remain Fanny
+Burney, the best daughter and the best sister in the world. What does it
+matter if people--foolish people who know nothing about it--laugh at it
+or say nasty things about it? Do you think that that will make any of us
+like you the less?”
+
+She put her arm about Fanny and kissed her on the cheek, and Fanny's
+tears began to fall. The young man standing by felt more uneasy than
+he had ever felt in his life. He crossed the room and looked out of the
+window, turning his back upon the scene of the sisters. He did not know
+what to say to a girl when once she allowed herself to weep. He wished
+with all his heart that he had not been dragged into this business. But
+Fanny's tears convinced him that his first impression of her reception
+of her book was the correct one: she was, like other young mothers he
+had heard of, bitterly repentant when it was too late.
+
+The next sound of which he became aware was of the crinkling of the
+stiff paper of the wrapper. One of the girls was folding up the parcel.
+He glanced round and saw that it was Fanny herself who was so engaged.
+She had dried her tears; the expression on her face was one of
+resignation--one of determination to make the best of a bad matter.
+
+“Ah, that's better,” said he, going to her and picking up the string
+from the floor. “There's no use crying over spilt milk, is there, Fanny?
+We have all kept your secret loyally, and no one need ever know that
+you so far forgot yourself. Certainly the revelation will never come
+from my lips.”
+
+Fanny burst out laughing.
+
+“Oh, dear Eddy, you are the best cousin that any poor girl could have,”
+ she said. “Your words have helped me greatly. They have helped to make
+me feel what is the aspect of the world in regard to my poor little
+story. It has been my constant companion night and day for three years
+and more. I worked at it in the cold and I tried how I could improve
+pages of it, copying it and recopying it; I practised a duplicity which
+was foreign to my nature in writing it--I have deceived my father and my
+mother about it--I wasted my eyesight over it--I robbed myself of sleep
+so that I might complete it, and when it was completed I lay awake in
+anxiety lest no bookseller would look at it, all this trouble I had with
+it, so that the world might have of my best, and what is the verdict of
+the world after all this? You have pronounced it, dear Eddy--you said
+thoughtfully and consolingly--'There's no use crying over spilt milk.'
+You are quite right. Not another tear will I shed over this poor little
+bantling of mine. 'A Young Lady's Entrance into the World'? Nay, call it
+rather a rickety brat that should never have made its entrance into the
+world at all.”
+
+“I should be ashamed of myself if I ever spoke of it in such terms,”
+ cried Susy, looking indignantly at her cousin as though he had abused
+it in that phrase. “'Rickety brat,' indeed! Oh, I should be ashamed. It
+looked so much alive--more alive, I think, than if it was in its covers.
+Let us sit down and read it together, Fanny.”
+
+Cousin Edward felt that he was being badly treated between these
+sisters. That last remark of Susy was rather more than a suggestion
+that he might go as soon as it pleased him. He had not any previous
+experience of young women and their offspring. He could not know
+that their attitude in such circumstances is one of hostility to the
+male--that they resent his appearance as an intrusion.
+
+“I am glad that you are so pleased,” said he, with only a trace of
+irritability in his voice. “And I am glad that I have been of any use to
+you, Cousin Fanny. After all, the thing is yours, not Susy's.”
+
+“That is true, indeed,” cried Fanny. “And it is I who offer you
+my gratitude for your help. Believe me, Eddy, I am sensible of the
+adroitness you have shown in this matter ever since we let you into our
+secret; and if any trouble comes from what we have done you may be quite
+sure that I will accept the entire responsibility for it.”
+
+“Oh, so far as that goes, I do not shrink from taking my share,” said
+he magnanimously. “I do not feel quite without blame--I am a man and
+I should have warned you at the outset. But you had nearly finished it
+before I heard anything of it--you must not forget that.”
+
+“That is true indeed,” said Fanny. “I was self-willed. I wonder was it
+vanity that impelled me. Never mind! It cannot be helped now. It may
+never be heard of again.”
+
+“There's always that to remember,” said he, with the eagerness of a
+drowning man grasping at a straw.
+
+“And I believe that the chances are greatly in favour of that hope being
+realized. Thank you again for your encouragement, dear Eddy,” said she.
+
+“Oh, that's nothing--nothing worth talking about,” said he, picking up
+his gloves. “You can command me always, Cousin Fanny. And you have seen
+that I can keep a secret. Now mind you don't leave that lying about”--he
+pointed to the parcel, the string of which Susy was knotting--“and, be
+advised by me, turn the key in the lock when you are working at it.”
+
+“Yes,” said Susy, “we'll be sure to do our best to prevent anyone from
+suspecting that we have a secret, by locking ourselves in.”
+
+“Caution--nothing like caution,” said he in a whisper, unfastening the
+door and putting his head out to glance to right and left of the short
+corridor. He held up his finger. “All safe so far,” he whispered; “no
+one is in sight.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+|THE moment he disappeared, Susy slipped the knot which she had just
+made on the parcel and flung the paper away.
+
+“Now we can settle down to it properly, Fanny,” she cried, catching
+up the bundle of unstitched sheets and throwing herself back upon the
+little sofa. “Come beside me, dear, and we shall go through every word
+together. Never mind what Eddy said; I think it looks quite lovely, and
+how easily it reads--just like poetry--'Evelina'!--how did you think of
+that sweet name?--'_or, A Young Lady's Entrance into the World_.' Not
+a mistake so far. The printers must surely be careful men! And now that
+you come to think of it, this is really the entrance of the Young Lady
+into the world. Here she is, smiling, but a little shy--just like her
+mamma--your Evelina takes after you, dear--now, confess that there is
+something agreeably shy in the italics printing of that line beginning
+with '_A Young Lady's Entrance_,' Fanny; it may be wrong to write a
+novel, but don't you think that this is worth it? Edward is a goose
+to talk as he did about crying over spilt milk. I wonder that you had
+patience to listen to him.”
+
+“Eddy is a dear boy, and he only said what he knew nearly everybody else
+would be disposed to say about this business. I started the story, as
+you know, half in fun--by way of exercising my hand--but then it got
+hold of me, and it became deadly earnest, and now--oh, Susy, what I feel
+now about it is just what I said to Edward: it seems as if it were the
+best part of myself that I am giving to the world. I wonder if it is
+right for anyone who has written a book, if it be only a novel, to look
+upon it in that light.”
+
+“Why should it not be right? Didn't you put all your thoughts into it,
+and are not one's thoughts part of oneself?” said Susy. “And although so
+many people look down upon novels--all the novels that have been written
+since Mr. Richardson died--still--oh, did not Dr. Johnson once write
+a novel? Yes, 'Rasselas' was what he called it. I tried to read it
+but----”
+
+“H'sh, Susy. Dr. Johnson might write anything that he pleased. Though
+Dr. Johnson wrote a novel, that should be no excuse for such as I having
+the audacity to do the like.”
+
+“I suppose that's what some people will say. But I can't see that if a
+good man does an evil thing, it becomes a good thing simply because he
+does it.”
+
+“Stop, Susy: I remember that he confessed to someone, who told it to Mr.
+Crisp, that he had written 'Rasselas' in order to get money enough to
+pay for his mother's funeral.”
+
+“Oh, in that case--might he not have written something a good deal
+better, Fanny? Oh, I see that you are stricken with horror at my
+thinking anything that came from Dr. Johnson to be dull. I daresay I
+began reading it too soon: I should have waited until I had learned that
+if a great man writes a book it is a great book, but that if a simple
+girl writes a novel--well, there's no use crying over spilt milk. Now
+that's the last word that I have to say, for I mean to read every word
+that's printed here--here--here!” She brought down her open hand on the
+topmost sheets of “Evelina” in three crescendo slaps, and then tucked
+her feet under her and buried herself in the book.
+
+Fanny sat laughing beside her; and when Susy paid no attention to her
+laughter, she continued sitting there in silence, while Susy read page
+after page.
+
+Several minutes had passed before the authoress asked:
+
+“How does the thing read, dear?”
+
+Susy gave a start at the sound of her voice and looked around her as if
+she had just been awakened. This should have been enough for Fanny. She
+should not have repeated her question: it was already answered.
+
+“How does the thing read, Susy?”
+
+“How does it read?” cried Susy. “Oh, Fanny, it reads exactly like a
+book--exactly. There is no difference between this and a real book. Oh,
+'tis a thousand times nicer to read in print than it was as you wrote
+it. It is so good, too!--the best story I ever read! I can't understand
+how you ever came to write it. You who have seen nothing of life--how
+did such a story ever come to you?”
+
+“I wish I knew,” replied Fanny. “And do you think that anyone else will
+read it now that it is printed?” she asked (she was rapidly acquiring
+the most prominent traits of the complete novel writer).
+
+“Anyone else? Nay, everyone--everyone will read it, and everyone will
+love it. How could anyone help--even daddy and mamma? Now please don't
+interrupt me again.”
+
+Down went Susy's face once more among the printed sheets, and Fanny
+watched her with delight. She had been quite ready a short time before
+to accept the verdict of Cousin Edward as equivalent to that of the
+public upon her book; and now she was prepared to accept Susy as the
+representative of all readers of taste and discrimination.
+
+“Edward--psha! What could he know about it?” she was ready to exclaim:
+every moment was bringing her nearer to the complete novelist.
+
+“Surely,” she thought, “there can be no dearer pleasure in life than to
+watch the effect of one's own book upon an appreciative reader!”
+
+(The appreciative reader is always the one who is favourably impressed;
+the other sort knows nothing about what constitutes an interesting
+book.)
+
+It was the first draught of which she had ever partaken of this
+particular cup of happiness, and it was a bombard. She was draining it
+to the very dregs: it was making her intoxicated, even though it was
+only offered to her by her younger sister, who had never read half a
+dozen novels in all her life, and these surreptitiously. She could know
+by the varying changes in expression on Susy's face what place she had
+come to in the book: the turning over of the pages was no guide to her,
+for she had no idea of the quantity of her writing the printers had
+put into a page, but she had no trouble in finding Susy's place, so
+exquisitely reflective was the girl's face of the incidents among which
+she was wandering. Surely little Susy had always been her favourite
+sister (she was smiling at one of the drolleries of characterization
+upon which she had come); oh, there could be no doubt that she had
+never loved any of her sisters as she loved Susy (Susy's eyes were
+now becoming watery, and Fanny knew that she had-reached the first of
+Evelina's troubles).
+
+It was the happiest hour of Fanny's life, and she gave herself up to
+it. She did not feel any irresistible desire to judge for herself if the
+opinion expressed by Susy respecting the story was correct or otherwise.
+She had no impulse to see how her ideas “looked in print.” She was
+content to observe the impression they were making upon her first lay
+reader. She had a vague suspicion that her own pleasure in reading
+the book would be infinitely less than the pleasure she derived from
+following the course of the story in her sister's face.
+
+Half an hour had actually passed before Susy seemed to awaken to the
+realities of life. She jumped up from the sofa with an exclamation of
+surprise, and then glanced down at Fanny with an inquiring look on her
+face--a puzzled look that gave the seal to Fanny's happiness.
+
+“You are wondering how I come to be here, Susy,” said she smiling. “You
+are wondering how I come to be mixed up with the Branghtons and
+the Mervains and the rest of them. You would make me out to be an
+enchantress carrying you into the midst of a strange society; and I
+don't want any more delightful compliments, dear.”
+
+“Oh, Fanny, 'tis so wonderful--so----”
+
+“I don't want to hear anything about it beyond what you have already
+told me, my dear Susy. I watched your face and it told me all. Give me
+a kiss, Susy. You have given me a sensation of pleasure such as I never
+knew before, and such as, I fear, I shall never know again.”
+
+In an instant the two girls were in each other's arms, mingling their
+tears and then their laughter, but exchanging no word until they had
+exhausted every other means of expressing what they felt.
+
+It was Susy who spoke first.
+
+“Take it away, Fanny,” she said. “Take the book away, for I know that if
+I read any more of it I shall betray your secret to all the house. They
+will read it on my face every time I look at you.”
+
+“I think that the hour has come for me to relieve you of the precious
+book,” said Fanny. “There is the letter from Mr. Lowndes asking me to
+make out the list of errata as quickly as possible, and I do believe
+that I shall have to read the book before I can oblige him.”
+
+“'Twas thoughtless for me to jump into the middle as I did, when you had
+to read it,” cried Susy. “But there is really no mistake on any page, so
+far as I could see.”
+
+“Unless the whole is a mistake,” said Fanny. “But I will not suggest that
+now, having seen your face while you were devouring it. Dear Susy, if I
+find many such readers I shall be happy.”
+
+She gathered together the loose sheets and carried them off to the
+little room at the top of the house where it was understood she wrote
+her long weekly letter to Mr. Crisp, who had made himself a hermit
+at Chessington, but who, like some other hermits, looked forward
+with impatience to the delightful glimpses of the world which he had
+forsaken, afforded to him on every page written by her.
+
+Susy did not see her again until dinner-time, and by that time the
+younger girl felt that she had herself under such complete control
+that she could preserve inviolate the secret of the authorship until it
+should cease to be a secret. The result of her rigid control of herself
+was that her brother James said to her when they were having tea in the
+drawing-room:
+
+“What was the matter with you at dinner, Sue? You looked as if you were
+aware that something had happened and you were fearful lest it might be
+found out. Have you broken a china ornament, or has the cat been turning
+over the leaves of the 'History of Music' with her claws, and left her
+signature on the morocco of the cover?”
+
+“What nonsense!” cried Susan. “Nothing has happened. What was there to
+happen, prithee tell me?”
+
+“Ah, that is beyond my power,” he replied. “I suppose you girls will
+have your secrets--ay, ay; until some day you reveal them to another
+girl with the strictest of cautions never to let the matter go beyond
+her--and so forth--and so forth. Never mind, I'll not be the one to
+tempt you to blab. I never yet had a secret told to me that was worth
+wasting words over.”
+
+“If I had a secret of importance I think that you would be a safe person
+to tell it to,” said Susy.
+
+“You are right there,” he assented with a nautical wink. “You could find
+in me the safest depository you could wish for; you might safely depend
+upon my forgetting all about it within the hour.”
+
+He did not trouble her any further, but she felt somewhat humiliated
+to think that she had had so little control of herself as to cause her
+brother's suspicions to be aroused. She thought that it would only be a
+matter of minutes when her father or her stepmother would approach her
+with further questions. Happily, however, it seemed that James was the
+keenest observer in the household, for no one put a question to her
+respecting her tell-tale face.
+
+Still she was glad when she found herself safely and snugly in bed and
+so in a position to whisper across the room to her sister Charlotte
+the news that Fanny's novel had been printed and that a copy was safely
+locked up in Fanny's desk, and that it looked lovely in its new form.
+
+Charlotte was greatly excited, but thought that Fanny might have told
+her the news before dinner.
+
+“Poor Fanny! she will have to tell the Padre to-morrow and ask his leave
+to--to do what she has already done without it. Poor Fanny!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+|A FEW days later Dr. Burney was at the point of setting out for
+Chessington to share Mr. Crisp's hermitage until the end of the week. He
+had already said good-bye to the household; but Fanny accompanied him to
+the door. It was her last chance, she knew. She had long ago made up her
+mind that one of her secrets must be told to him, and she had more than
+once, since the printed sheets had been brought to her, tried to
+screw up her courage to the point of telling him, but she had not yet
+succeeded. And now he was going to Chessington for four days, and in
+the meantime the book should be returned to the printer. It was the last
+chance she would have of discharging the duty which was incumbent on
+her. She had been hovering around him in the hall, shaking out his
+gloves for him, polishing the gold knob of his cane, picking a scrap of
+dust from the collar of his travelling-cloak. In another minute he would
+be gone--her opportunity would be gone.
+
+And then came the relieving thought of further procrastination:
+
+“I shall write to him at Chessington and confess all.”
+
+It seemed as though she had uttered her thought aloud, for he turned to
+her with his hand on the latch of the hall door, saying:
+
+“You will write to Chessington to-morrow or the day after, my dear. It
+is no trouble to you to write. You enjoy it, do you not?”
+
+“Oh, it is my chief enjoyment. That is why I have been practising it
+so much, just as the others have been practising their music. I have no
+music in my soul, so I--I have been writing. Of course, it is not to be
+expected that I could do more than write some nonsense--my equivalent to
+the strumming of the scales.”
+
+“It pleases me greatly to hear that,” said he. “But you do yourself an
+injustice; Mr. Crisp never ceases to praise your letters.”
+
+“He is praising his own pupil then,” said she, “for 'twas he who first
+taught me how to write, and now I have been putting together some
+imaginary letters, and I thought that if he could see them printed in
+front of him he would be amused.”
+
+“Imaginary letters? Why not continue your real ones, my dear? It would
+cost a great deal to have your imaginary ones printed.”
+
+“My dear father,” she cried, “you surely do not think that I would ask
+you for money to pay for my whim? But if I could prevail on someone--a
+bookseller--to print what I write, I hope you will consent to my doing
+so--not putting my name to the thing, of course?”
+
+“And does my Fanny believe that 'tis all so easy to persuade a
+bookseller to pay her printer's bill?” he said, pinching her ear.
+“Booksellers are shrewd men of business.”
+
+“But even men of business have their weak moments,” said she. “And
+so if--if--you would not think it too bold of me to let James take my
+parcel to a bookseller? You would not forbid me to try to realize my
+ambition?”
+
+“You may be sure that the one to frustrate your aims will not be your
+father,” said he, smiling shrewdly. “I will consent if--ah, there is
+the fatal if--if your bookseller consents. Now goodbye, my dear child.
+I will take your love to your Daddy Crisp, and tell him to await a real
+letter from you--not an imaginary one.”
+
+She stood on tiptoe to kiss him--but even then he had to stoop before
+his lips were on her forehead.
+
+He was gone in another moment. She stood at the inner side of the closed
+door and listened to the rattling of the wheels of the chaise over the
+cobble-stones.
+
+So the ordeal that she dreaded had been faced, and how simple a thing it
+had turned out after all! Her father had treated the idea which she
+had submitted to him as if it were nothing beyond the thought of a
+simpleton--a foolish, simple girl who knew nothing of the world of
+business and booksellers, and who fancied that a bookseller would print
+everything that was sent to him.
+
+He had delivered that contingent “if” with the shake of the head and the
+shrewd smile of one who is acquainted with the seamy side of
+business, in the presence of a child who fancies that printing follows
+automatically upon the writing of a book and that there are thousands
+of buyers eagerly awaiting the chance of securing everything that passes
+through a printing-press. She had perceived just what was in his mind;
+and his consent, followed by that contingent “if,” to her publishing
+what she had written, was given to her with the same freedom that would
+have accompanied his permission to appropriate all the gold used in
+paving the streets of the City. She could see from the way he smiled
+that he felt that she knew as little about the conditions under which
+books are printed as a child does about the paving of the streets of the
+City.
+
+She knew that he would never again refer to the subject of those
+imaginary letters of hers--he would be too considerate of her feelings
+to do so; he would have no desire to humiliate her. He would not even
+rally her in a playful way about her literary work, asking her how the
+printing was progressing, and if she had made up her mind to start a
+coach as grand as that magnificent piece of carved and gilded furniture
+which Sir Joshua had just had built for himself--oh, no: her father
+had always respected her sensibility. Years ago, when her brothers and
+sisters were making their light jests upon her backwardness, he had
+stopped them and said that he had no fears for the future of Fanny; and
+she was certain that in referring to her, as he so frequently did, as
+“poor Fanny,” he meant nothing but kindness to her. To be sure, at
+first it grated upon her sensitiveness to be referred to in that kindly
+pitying way, but she did not resent it--indeed, she usually thought of
+herself as “poor Fanny.” In a household where proficiency in music was
+the standard from which every member was judged, it was inevitable that
+her incompetence should be impressed upon her; but no one was hard upon
+her--the kindly “poor Fanny” of her father represented the attitude
+of the household toward her, even when she had confided to some of the
+members the fact that she was writing a novel. They had been startled;
+but, then, a novel was not a musical composition, and such an
+achievement could not be received with the warmth that Esther's playing
+received. It was really not until the printed sheets of the book lay
+before Susy that she felt that Fanny had, in one leap, brought herself
+well-nigh to the level of Esther; and by the time Susy had read the
+story to the end she had made up her mind that if it might be possible
+to compare the interest of a literary work with that of the playing of
+a piece of music, Fanny's work could claim precedence over the best that
+Esther had done--she had confessed as much to Fanny in secret, and Fanny
+had called her a foolish child.
+
+Fanny had seated herself in the parlour opening off the little hall, on
+the departure of her father, and her memory took her back to the days
+she had passed in the house at Poland Street, when she had written her
+story of Caroline Evelyn, and had been induced by her stepmother to burn
+it, with sundry dramas and literary moralizings after the manner of the
+_Tatler_--all the work of her early youth. She recalled her resolution
+never again to engage in any such unprofitable practices as were
+represented by the smoke which was ascending from the funeral pyre of
+her “Caroline Evelyn” and the rest.
+
+How long had she kept to her resolution? She could not remember. She
+could not recall having any sense of guilt when she had begun her
+“Evelina”--it seemed to have sprung from the ashes of “Caroline
+Evelyn”--nor could she recollect what had been on her mind when she was
+spending those long chilly hours of her restricted leisure toiling over
+the book. All that she could remember now was her feeling that it had
+to be written--that it seemed as if someone in authority had laid on her
+the injunction to write it, and she had no choice but to obey.
+
+Well, she had obeyed--the book had been written and printed and she
+meant to send the corrected sheets back to Mr. Lowndes in the course of
+the day. Her father's consent to its publication had been obtained and
+it would be advertised for sale within some months, and then----
+
+Her imagination was not equal to the pursuit of the question of its
+future. Sometimes she felt that she never wished to hear of the book
+again. She could almost hope that sending the sheets back to Mr. Lowndes
+would be the same as dropping them, with a heavy stone in the parcel,
+into the deep sea.
+
+But that was when the trouble of getting her father's permission
+to publish it was looming before her. Now that this cloud had been
+dispelled she felt less gloomy. She had a roseate dream of hearing
+people talk about the book and even wishing to know the name of the
+author. She had a dream of Fame herself carrying her away to sublime
+heights--to such heights as she had been borne by the singing of “Waft
+her, Angels.” Her dream was of sitting on these heights of Fame by the
+side of the singer--on the same level--not inferior in the eyes of the
+world--not as the beggar maid uplifted in her rags to the side of the
+King.
+
+That had been her dream when listening to the singing, and it returned
+to her now, as she sat alone in the little parlour, having just taken
+the last step that was necessary before giving to the world the book
+which was to do so much for her. Her visions of success showed her no
+more entrancing a prospect than that of being by his side with her fame
+as a dowry worthy of his acceptance at her hands; so that people might
+not say that he had chosen unworthily--he, who had all the world to
+choose from.
+
+And quite naturally there came to her in due sequence the marvellous
+thought that he had already chosen her out of all the world--he
+had chosen her, believing her to be the dowerless daughter of a
+music-teacher--the one uninteresting member of a popular family!
+
+This was the most delightful thought of the whole train that came
+to her. It was worth cherishing above all the rest--close to her
+heart--close to her heart. She hugged that thought so close to her that
+it became warm with the warmth of her heart. Even though her book should
+never be heard of again, even though the world might treat it with
+contempt, she would still be consoled by the reflection that he had
+chosen her.
+
+*****
+
+“Why on earth should you be sitting here in the cold, Fanny?” came the
+voice from the opened door--the voice of firm domestic virtue.
+
+“Cold? cold? Surely 'Tis not cold, mamma,” she said.
+
+“Not so very cold; but when there is a fire in the work-room it should
+not be wasted,” said Mrs. Burney. “But to say the truth you do not look
+as if you were cold; your face is quite flushed, child. I hope you do
+not feel that you are on the brink of a sickness, my dear.”
+
+“Dear mamma, I never felt stronger in my life,” cried Fanny with a
+laugh.
+
+“I am glad to hear that. I was saying to Lottie just now that for some
+days past you have had alternately a worried look and the look of one
+whose brain is over-excited. Is anything the matter, my child?”
+
+“Nothing--nothing--indeed nothing! I never felt more at ease in all my
+life.”
+
+“Well, well, a little exercise will do you no harm, I am sure; so put on
+your hat and accompany me to the fishmonger's. He has not been treating
+us at all fairly of late. It is not that I mind the remark made quite
+respectfully by James at dinner yesterday--it would be ridiculous to
+expect to find fish as fresh in the centre of London as he and his
+shipmates were accustomed to in the middle of the Pacific Ocean; but it
+would not be unreasonable for us to look for turbot with less of a taint
+than that we had yesterday. You will hear the man excuse himself
+by asserting that I chose the fish at his stall; but my answer to
+that--well, come with me and you shall hear what is my answer.”
+
+Fanny went with her and heard.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+|THE faithful Cousin Edward had carried the sheets of “Evelina” to Mr.
+Lowndes's shop, with her list of errata, sisters Lottie and Susy
+giving him ample instructions as to the disguise he should assume in
+discharging that duty; it would be terrible, they thought, if the secret
+which they had so carefully guarded for so long should be revealed just
+when it was most important that it should be kept. Their imagination
+was keen enough to suggest to them the possibility of good Mr.
+Lowdnes setting a watch upon the people entering his shop, and giving
+instructions that the bearer of the parcel of “Evelina” should be
+detained and brought into his presence to be questioned.
+
+They advised that Edward should muffle up his face well before going
+into the shop, and then lay down his parcel and fly like the wind--that
+would be the best way of defeating the curiosity of the bookseller.
+
+But Edward was of the opinion that such a course of action might
+possibly only stimulate the man's curiosity as well as that of the
+people in the street, and the cry of “Stop thief!” might bring his
+frantic flight to a standstill. He thought that the most artful course
+to adopt would be to hang around the shop until he found that several
+customers were within; then he would enter quite casually and wait until
+Mr. Lowndes had served one customer and was about to attend to another.
+If the parcel were thrust into his hands during this interval, he,
+Edward, would have a good chance of getting safely away before Mr.
+Lowndes should have time to examine its contents.
+
+They were rather struck with his idea, and he got permission to put it
+into practice; but in any case he must take the greatest care of the
+parcel; valuable parcels were snatched out of people's hands every day.
+
+He smiled.
+
+In another hour he was back at the house in St. Martin's Street to
+report to them the safe delivery of the precious parcel. After all, he
+had had nothing more exciting to do than to place it on a counter--the
+elderly gentleman with a pen behind his ear had not even taken the
+trouble to rise from his stool to receive it.
+
+“Parcel for Mr. Lowndes? All right. Leave it there”--those were the
+exact words with which the parcel was received, Edward reported--the
+clerk was buried in his ledger before he had left the shop.
+
+The girls were not a little disappointed at this very tame conclusion of
+what they expected would have been an exciting episode; and to say the
+truth, their chagrin was shared by Cousin Edward.
+
+He had looked for his resources of artfulness to be drawn on in the
+transaction--perhaps even his physical qualifications for the defence of
+the sacred secret as well. He felt as a strong man might feel on going
+forth to meet a giant, to find himself confronted by a dwarf. The
+mission was unworthy of his powers. Fanny's thanks heartily given to
+him, with the repeated assurance that, but for him, the affair could
+never have been carried out, scarcely compensated him for the tameness
+of the affair.
+
+For the next month or two it was a busy household in St. Martin's
+Street. Lieutenant Burney was joining his ship for another long voyage,
+and he had to be provided with a fresh outfit. The stitching that went
+on in the work-room surpassed even that maintained during the months
+preceding Esther's marriage; but the labour was lightened upon more
+than one occasion by the appearance of Mr. Garrick. Mr. Garrick had the
+freedom of the house in St. Martin's Street, as he had had that of the
+Poland Street domicile, where he had so often spent hours amusing the
+children with his inimitable drolleries.
+
+But Mrs. Burney thought he went a little too far in taking off their
+friends, and even their own father, though his malicious touches were as
+light as the pinches of Puck. He had been paying a visit to Mr. and Mrs.
+Kendal, and he convulsed even Mrs. Burney by his acting of the scene of
+his reception by them, the lady much more coy than she had ever been at
+the Wells, and the gentleman overflowing in his attentions to her; but
+both of them esteeming him as their benefactor.
+
+And they were so well satisfied with the honourable estate to which he
+had called them, that they appeared to be spending all their time
+trying to bring about matches among their acquaintance. No matter how
+unsuitable some of the projected unions seemed, no matter how unlikely
+some of the people were to do credit to their discrimination, they
+seemed determined that none should escape “the blissful bondage”--that
+was Mr. Kendal's neat phrase. Mr. Garrick repeated it with a smile that
+made his audience fancy that Mr. Kendal was before them.
+
+“'The blissful bondage--that's what I term it, sir,'” said Mr. Kendal,
+through Mr. Garrick. “'But the worst of the matter is, Mr. Garrick,
+that we have nearly exhausted our own circle of friends'--'I can easily
+believe that, sir,' interposed Mr. Garrick--' and so we feel it our duty
+to fall back upon you.' 'Lud, sir,' cried Mr. Garrick, jumping a step or
+two back as if to avoid a heavy impact--'Lud, sir! a little man like me!
+I should be crushed as flat as a black beetle.' 'Nay, sir, I mean that
+we are compelled to ask you for a list of a few of your friends who,
+you think, should be brought together--half a dozen of each sex would be
+sufficient to begin with.'”
+
+“Of course I demurred,” said Garrick, telling his story, “but before
+'the blissful bondage' had been repeated more than a score of times I
+began to think of all against whom I bore a grudge--here was clearly the
+means of getting level with them; the only trouble with me was that
+I found myself confounding the people who bore me a grudge with those
+against whom I bore a grudge--the former are plentiful, the latter very
+meagre in number. With the exception of a few very dear animosities
+which I was hoarding up to make old age endurable, I have killed off all
+my enemies, and was forced, like Mr. Kendal, to fall back on my friends;
+but even among these I could find few that I could honestly say
+were deserving of such a fate as I was asked to nominate them for. I
+ventured, however, to mention the name of Lieutenant Burney, of His
+Majesty's Fleet, coupling it with--I could not at first think of an
+appropriate partner for James, but at last I hit upon exactly the right
+lady.”
+
+“What! a splice before I set sail next week?” cried Jim. “That's good
+news, sir. And the lady's name, if you please, and her address. Give me
+my hat, Susy; there is no time to be lost. A splice in a trice. Come,
+Mr. Garrick, her name? Cannot you see that I am hanging in stays until
+you tell me who she is?”
+
+“She is a very pleasant lady, sir. I can assure you of that,” said
+Garrick. “Not too tall even with her hair built _à la mode_; a pleasant
+smile, and a happy way of conversing. In short, Lieutenant Burney, I can
+strongly recommend the lady, for I have known her for the past twenty
+years and more, and from the first she was a staid, sensible person--the
+very partner for a sailor, sir, being so contrary to him in every
+point.”
+
+“Hark'ee, Mr. Garrick; though I don't quite see myself in tow of such a
+state barge, I'll trouble you to relieve my suspense by telling me her
+name.”
+
+“I have more than once thought when I was young that she would make me
+an excellent wife,” said Garrick; “but I soon perceived that I was not
+good enough for her. She has always been an exemplary sister, and I saw
+that, try as I might, I could never become her equal in that respect;
+and for married happiness, my boy, there is nothing like----”
+
+“Her name--her name?” shrieked the girls.
+
+The actor looked at them with pained surprise on every feature.
+
+“Her name?” he said. “Surely I have described her very badly if you have
+not recognized the portrait. But, for that matter, I have often felt how
+inadequate are words to describe character combined with grace--a
+nature inclined to seriousness in conjunction with a desire to
+attract--loftiness of purpose linked with a certain daintiness----”
+
+He made a few gestures with his hands, keeping his elbows close to his
+side, and then imitated the spreading of a capacious skirt preparatory
+to sinking in a curtsey, and in a moment there was a cry from every part
+of the room of “Miss Reynolds--Miss Reynolds!”
+
+“And who has a word to say against Miss Reynolds?” cried the actor.
+
+“No one--no one,” said Fanny. “Character combined with grace--Miss
+Reynolds linked with Lieutenant Burney.”
+
+“She would make a fine sheet anchor for an Admiral of the Blue,” laughed
+Jim. “And with your permission, sir, I will postpone my offer until I
+have attained that rank.”
+
+“I have advised Mr. Kendal to hurry things on,” said Garrick gravely.
+“For if you have time to spare before making up your mind, the lady
+cannot reasonably be thought equally fortunate. 'Lieutenant Burney, your
+attitude is not complimentary to the blissful bondage'”--once more it
+was Mr. Kendal who was in the room.
+
+“Call the roll,” said Jim. “Who comes next on your list, Mr. Garrick?”
+
+“Well, I was thinking of Dr. Johnson with Mrs. Abington,” said Garrick;
+“but perhaps you may quibble even at that.”
+
+The room rang with laughter, for everyone had seen the beautiful actress
+whose lead in dress was followed by all the ladies in the fashionable
+world who could afford to do so, and a greater number who could not; and
+the worsted hose and scorched wig, two sizes too small, of Dr. Johnson
+had been gazed at with awe by the Burney family when he visited the
+house in St. Martin's Street.
+
+“Let the banns be published without delay,” cried Jim. “Next pair,
+please.”
+
+“Well, I was thinking of Signor Rauzzini and Mrs. Montagu,” said
+Garrick, “but perhaps that would not be approved of by you any more than
+the others.”
+
+“Nay, Mr. Garrick, I will not have our friends made any longer the
+subject of your fooling,” said Mrs. Burney.
+
+Garrick and Jim had the laugh between them, but it seemed that they
+alone saw the jest of coupling the lively Roman with the mature leader
+of the bluestockings: the girls bent silently over their work.
+
+“Madam,” said Garrick apologetically, “I ask your pardon for my
+imprudence. May I ask which name I am to withdraw? Was my offence the
+introduction of the lady's name or the gentleman's? Oh, I can guess.
+Those rosy-tinted faces before me--I vow that you will find yourself
+going to sea with a chestful of pink shirts, Lieutenant--those sweet
+blushing faces reveal the secret more eloquently than any words could
+do.”
+
+Undoubtedly the three girls were blushing very prettily; but at the
+mention of the word “secret” two of them gave a little start, but
+without looking up.
+
+“The secret--oh, I have been feeling for some time that I was well to
+the leeward of a secret,” cried Jim, “and I'll not start tack or sheet
+until I learn what it is.”
+
+“What, sir; you a sailor and not able to penetrate the secret of a
+pretty girl's blushes!” cried Garrick.
+
+The brother looked at each of his sisters in turn. They continued
+stitching away demurely at his shirts.
+
+“Helm's a-lee,” he said. “Ready about, and off we go on another tack,
+for hang me if I see anything of guilt on their faces, bless 'em! Come,
+Mr. Garrick, you shall interpret them for me. Let me into the secret
+which you say you have read as if it was a book.”
+
+Susy gave a sharp cry.
+
+“The needle!” she said. “That is the third time it has pricked me since
+morning.”
+
+“Pay no attention to her, sir,” cried Garrick. “It was a feint on her
+part to put us off the scent of the secret.”
+
+“In heaven's name, then, let us have it,” cried Jim.
+
+“If you will have it, here it is,” said Garrick. “Your three sisters,
+Mr. Burney, are contemplating applying to Mrs. Montagu to be admitted to
+the freedom and the livery of the Society of Bluestockings. That is why
+they thought it akin to sacrilege for me to introduce the lady's name
+into a jest. Their blush was but a reflex of their guilty intention.”
+
+“Indeed, Mr. Garrick, you go too far sometimes,” said Mrs. Burney. “Mrs.
+Montagu is a worthy lady, and our girls respect her too highly to fancy
+that they have any qualification to be received into her literary set.”
+
+“Faith, Madam, I know my duty too well, I hope, to accuse any of the
+Miss Burneys of possessing literary qualities,” said Garrick. “But what
+I do say is that if such qualities as they possess were to be introduced
+into Mrs. Montagu's set, it would quickly become the most popular
+drawing-room in town. The idea of thinking that any young woman would go
+to the trouble of writing a book when she can reach the heart of mankind
+so much more easily by blushing over the breast of a shirt! Continue
+stitching and doing your own blushing, dear children, and you will never
+give anyone cause to blush for you.”
+
+He bowed elaborately to each of them in turn and afterward to Mrs.
+Burney, and made a most effective exit. He always knew when he should
+go, and never failed to leave a few fragrant phrases behind him, as
+though he had dropped a bunch of roses for the girls to cherish.
+
+“Where should we be without Mr. Garrick?” said James, when he had seen
+the actor to the door and returned to the work-room.
+
+“If only he would not go too far in his jesting,” remarked Mrs. Burney,
+shaking her head. “Mr. Garrick sometimes forgets himself.”
+
+“That is how it comes that he is the greatest actor in the world,” said
+James. “It is only when a man has learned to forget himself completely
+that he causes everyone else to remember him. Now there's the text for a
+homily that you can write to your Daddy Crisp, Fanny.”
+
+“I'll note it, Jim, and if Mr. Crisp breaks off correspondence with me
+you shall bear the blame,” said Fanny.
+
+“Mercy on us!” whispered Susy when she was alone with her sister a
+little later. “I never got such a fright as when Mr. Garrick pretended
+to read your secret. Thank goodness! he failed to get the least inkling
+of it.”
+
+“Thank goodness, indeed!” whispered Fanny. But she was thinking of quite
+a different secret when she spoke.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+|HE was beside her before she was aware of it, in the great music-room
+at Lady Hales's house. She had not seen him approach her--she could
+not have done so without turning round, for he had approached her from
+behind, and slipped into the chair that Esther had vacated in order to
+play to the company. Esther's husband, who had been in the seat beyond
+her, had been led away some time earlier by Mr. Linley's clever son in
+order that he might give an opinion respecting one of the songs in a
+piece named _The Duenna_, which was about to be produced at Drury Lane.
+
+He was beside her and whispering in her ear, though she had not even
+known that he was to be present.
+
+Of course he went through the pantomimic form of inquiring how it was
+that she was alone--this was, she knew, for the benefit of anyone who
+might be watching them and suspect an assignation. The idea of anyone
+seriously fancying that Dr. Burney's daughter would have an assignation
+with Signor Rauzzini in such a place and in the midst of such a company!
+But Signor Rauzzini came from a land of intrigue, and his experience of
+England led him to believe that he had come to another; and so he made
+those gestures of inquiry, and she gave him a few words of explanation,
+so that no one might suspect! But, for that matter, their chairs were
+in the least conspicuous place in the room, and the shadow of the heavy
+hangings of a window fell half across them both.
+
+“And we have not met for months,” said he in French.
+
+“Nay, have you forgotten our evening at the Pantheon?” she asked.
+
+“Forgotten it? But that is months ago--ages. And it was all
+unfinished--broken off when at its best--mutilated. That hour we had!
+Oh, was it a melody suddenly interrupted when it was approaching its
+best? Was it a poem snatched away by some ruthless hand just when we had
+begun a deathless line?”
+
+“What I remember best is your singing of 'Waft her.' I am not quite sure
+that I have yet returned to the earth from those regions whither I felt
+myself wafted. Are you conscious of having any part in _Dido_ into which
+you can throw yourself with the same spirit?”
+
+“_Dido!_ pah! _Dido_ is a paltry playhouse--Maestro Handel's work is a
+Sistine Chapel--ah, more--more--a noble cathedral. When other composers
+built their garden houses in imitation of Greek temples, he
+spent all his time raising cathedrals. His genius is his
+own--mighty--overpowering! Every time I approach the great _maestro_ I
+feel that I should put off my shoes from my feet. It is holy ground--it
+is--ah, mademoiselle, it was you who led me to chatter of myself and my
+music when we were last together, and I had no wish to do so; I meant to
+talk of yourself alone, but we had parted before I had the chance again.
+I have been wondering ever since if such a chance would return--if I
+had not thrown it away; and now you have lured me once more toward the
+golden net of music; but I have seen it spread: I will not step into it.
+I want to talk to you of love--love and you--and--me.”
+
+He had restrained his voice so that it was no more than a whisper, and
+he had chastened his gestures until he seemed rigid. Fanny knew that
+even if their chairs had not been far away from the next that were
+occupied, his words could reach no ears but her own; but the effort that
+he was making to restrain his gestures--oh, was it not more significant
+to any observant eye than his most florid action would have been? With
+bent head she was conscious of the quivering of the muscles of his
+clenched hands--of the tremulous earnestness of his expressive face.
+Surely everyone who so much as glanced at him would know what was the
+subject of his discourse--and hers--hers--but what should hers be? What
+answer was she to make to such a man whispering such a word as love?
+
+“I am afraid,” she said. “You make me afraid. Is this the place? Is this
+the time? Am I the one?”
+
+“Every place is the place--every time is the time--and you--you are the
+only one,” said he, becoming more fervent every moment. “If you and I
+were alone--but we are alone--our love isolates us--we are alone in the
+splendid isolation of our love. What are these people who are about
+us? They are nothing to us--less than nothing, What are the people in
+a church to the devout one who enters and keeps his eyes fixed upon
+the lovely face of the saint to whom he prays. The saint and he are in
+communion together, and their communion isolates them though the church
+is crowded? I keep my eyes of devotion upon your face, my beautiful
+saint, and I am rapt with the glory of this hour--we are carried away
+on the wings of our love until the world is too far beneath us to be
+seen--only the heaven is revealed to us--to me--I look into your face
+and I have a glimpse of heaven itself! Ah, gentle saint, you will not
+deny me a response--one word--only lift up your eyes--let our eyes meet
+and it will be as if our lips had met. I am but a mortal, but I feel,
+gazing into the face of my saint, as if I were immortal--immortal and
+crossing the threshold of the heaven that is hers--I feel that we are
+equal----”
+
+She drew in her breath--the sound was something like a gasp--the gasp
+of one who has been swept away into the midst of a swirling sea and made
+breathless. She had been swept away on the amazing flood of his words;
+it was not until he had said that word “equal” that she felt herself
+swirled into the air once more, so to speak, and gave that gasp for
+breath: he, too, was breathless after his long and fervid outburst,
+repressed as to tone, but sounding therefore all the more passionate.
+Her gasp sounded like a sigh; his like a sob.
+
+“Not yet--not yet,” she said in a whisper--disjointed and staccato. “I
+cannot listen to you yet. I dare not--I have my pride.”
+
+“Pride? What is pride? How have I wounded your pride?” he said. “Ah,
+my God! you cannot think that I would propose anything that is not
+honourable? You do not look on me as such a wretch? Ah, you cannot.”
+
+“Oh, no, no,” she said quickly. “I would trust you. I have looked into
+your face. I have heard you sing.”
+
+“You place your faith in me? But you cannot do that unless you love me.
+And if you love me--have I been too headlong? Have I startled you? But
+surely you must have seen that on the very first day we met, before I
+had been an hour in your presence, my life was yours. I tell you that
+I knew it--not an hour--one glance was enough to tell me that I was
+all yours, and that for me no other one lived or would ever live in the
+world. What have you to say? Do not you believe me? What did you mean
+by that word 'pride'? It does not seem to me that it had any connection
+with you or me.”
+
+“Do not ask me to explain anything just now,” she said. “You would not
+like to be asked to explain how you came to--to--think of me--to feel in
+regard to me as you have said you do----”
+
+“Why should I shrink from it?” he asked. “But no one who has seen you
+would put such a question to me. I loved you because you were--_you_. Is
+not that enough? It would be sufficient for anyone who knew you. I saw
+you sitting there--so sweetly timid--a little flower that is so startled
+to find itself awakened into life in the spring, that it would fain
+ask the earth to hide it again. I thought of you as that modest little
+flower--a violet trying to obscure its own charm by the leaves that
+surround it; but all in vain--in vain, for its presence has given a
+subtle perfume to the air, and all who breathe of its delicate sweetness
+take the spirit of the spring into their souls and know that a violet
+is there, though hidden from their view. That is how I saw you. I have
+always loved the violet, and felt that shyness and sweetness were ever
+one; and am I to be reproached if I have a longing to pluck my violet
+and have her ever with me?”
+
+“This is madness--the poetry of madness,” she cried, and there was
+really a piteous note in her voice. “But if I did not believe that you
+feel every word that you have spoken, I would let you continue, and
+drink in the sweetness of every word that falls from your lips. It is
+because I know that you are speaking from your heart and because I also
+know my own unworthiness that I pray of you to say no more--yet.”
+
+“Why should I not tell you the truth, if you confess that you believe I
+am speaking sincerely?”
+
+“Sincerely, but in a dream.”
+
+“Is all love a dream, then?--is that what is in your thought?”
+
+“I do not want it to be a dream. I wish the love to continue with your
+eyes open, and therefore I say--not yet.”
+
+“You wish my love to continue? Oh, never doubt that your wish shall be
+granted. But why that 'not yet '? I am weary of this mystery.”
+
+She was perplexed. Why should she hold out any longer against this
+impetuous Prince of the land of King Cophetua? Why should she not be as
+other girls who allow themselves to be lifted out of insignificance by
+the man who loves them. Why should that gift of being able to see more
+closely into the truth of things that most others accept without a
+question, be laid upon her as a burden?
+
+She had a strong impulse to let her resolution go down the wind, and to
+put her hand in his, no matter who might be looking on, and say the word
+to him that would give him happiness. Who was she to suggest that his
+happiness would not endure--that her happiness would not endure?
+
+She was perplexed. She had more than once been called prim; but that
+only meant that it was her nature to weigh everything in a mental
+balance, as it were, and her imagination was equal (she thought) to the
+task of assigning their relative value to the many constituents of human
+happiness. If she had been told that this meant that she had not yet
+been in love, and that she was not now in love, she would not have felt
+uneasy in her mind. She did not mistrust the feeling she had for the man
+who was beside her. Surely this was the very spirit of truth in loving,
+to be ready to sacrifice everything, so that unhappiness should not
+overtake him; and she had long ago felt that unhappiness only could
+result from his linking his life with one who was rather less than a
+mere nobody. The thought never once left her mind of what would be
+said when it was known that she had married him. A dunce's triumph, the
+incident would be styled by the wits, and (assuming that the wits were
+masculine) how would it be styled by the opposite sex? She could see
+uplifted hands--incredulous eyebrows raised, while they discussed it,
+and she knew that the conclusion that everyone would come to was that to
+be the most divine singer in the world did not save a man from being the
+greatest fool in the world.
+
+Was her love the less true because her intelligence insisted on her
+perceiving that such a man as Signor Rauzzini would not be happy if
+married to a nonentity like herself? “Surely not,” she would have
+cried. “Surely it is only the truest of all loves that would be ready
+to relinquish its object rather than bring unhappiness upon him! Is
+intelligence never to be found in association with true love? Must true
+love and folly ever be regarded as allies?”
+
+Her intellect was quick in apprehending the strength of the position
+taken up by two combatants in an argument; but the juxtaposition of the
+Prim and the Passionate was too much for her. She was all intellect; he
+was all passion. Her mental outlook on the situation was acute; but his
+was non-existent. His passion blinded him; her intellect had a thousand
+eyes.
+
+And there he was by her side; she could almost hear the strong beating
+of his heart in the pause that followed his question.
+
+“What is this mystery?”
+
+It was her feeling of this tumultuous beating of his heart that all but
+made her lose her intellectual foothold. His heart beating close to hers
+swayed her as the moon sways the tides, until for some moments she
+could not have told whether it was her heart or his that was beating
+so wildly--only for some moments, however; only long enough for that
+madness to suggest itself to her--to let her resolution fly to the
+winds--what did anything matter so long as she could lay her hand in
+his, and feel his fingers warm over hers? It was her first acquaintance
+with the tyranny of a heart aflame, and for a moment she bent her
+head before it. He thought that he had got the better of her scruples,
+whatever they were, by the way her voice broke as she said:
+
+“Madness--it would be madness!”
+
+He was not acute enough to perceive that she was talking to
+herself--trying to bring her reason to help her to hold out against the
+throbbing of her heart--_his_ heart.
+
+“It would indeed be madness for us to turn our backs upon happiness when
+it is within our reach,” said he. “That is what you would say, sweet
+saint?”
+
+But she had now recovered herself.
+
+“Indeed it is because I have no thought except for your happiness that I
+entreat of you to listen to me,” said Fanny.
+
+“I will listen to you if you tell me in one word that you love me,” said
+he.
+
+There was no pause before she turned her eyes upon him saying:
+
+“You know it. You have never doubted it. It is because I love you so
+truly I wish to save you from unhappiness. I want to hold your love for
+ever and ever.”
+
+“My sweet saint! You have heard my prayers. You are to make me happy.”
+
+“All that I can promise as yet is to save you from supreme unhappiness.
+I am strong enough to do so, I think.”
+
+“You can save me from every unhappiness if you will come to me--and you
+are coming, I know.”
+
+“I hope that if you ask me three months hence I shall be able to say
+'yes'; but now--at this moment--I dare not. It is not so long to ask you
+to wait, seeing that I have let you have a glimpse of my heart, and told
+you that as you feel for me, so I feel for you.”
+
+“Three months is an eternity! Why should it be in three months? Why not
+now?”
+
+She shook her head.
+
+“I cannot tell you. It is my little secret,” she said. “Ah, is it not
+enough that I have told you I love you? I shall never cease to love
+you.”
+
+“Oh, this accursed place! These accursed people!” he murmured. “Why are
+we fated to meet only surrounded by these wretches? Why cannot we meet
+where I can have you in _my_ arms, and kiss your lips that were made for
+kissing?”
+
+There was something terrifying to her in that low whisper of his. He had
+put his head down to her until his lips were close to her ear. She felt
+the warmth of his face; it made her own burn. But she could not move her
+face away to the extent of an inch. Her feminine instinct of flight was
+succeeded by the equally feminine instinct of surrender. If it had been
+his intention--and it certainly seemed that it was--to kiss her in the
+presence of all the company, she would still have been incapable of
+avoiding such a caress.
+
+He swore again in her ear, and Fanny, for all her primness, felt a
+regret deep down in her heart that her training would not allow of her
+expressing herself through the same medium.
+
+But he did not come any nearer to her than that. He changed his phrases
+of abuse of their entourage to words of delight at her presence so close
+to him--alternately passionate and tender. His voice became a song in
+her ears, containing all such variations. His vocalism was equal to the
+demand put upon it. It was his _métier_ to interpret such emotions, and
+now he did justice to his training, even if he fell short--and he was
+conscious of doing so--of dealing adequately with his own feelings.
+He called her once again his sweet saint who had heard his prayer; his
+cherished flower, whose fragrance was more grateful to him than all the
+incense burned in all the temples of the world was to the Powers above.
+
+It was, he repeated, her violet modesty that had first made him adore
+her. Her humility brought before his eyes the picture painted by Guido
+Reni--the Madonna saying: _Ecce ancilla Domini_.
+
+Ah, her humility was divine. And she was so like his mother--his dear
+mother who had died when he was a boy and who had taught him to sing.
+Ah, she was herself now singing in Paradise, and she would look down
+and approve his choice. She, too, had been as meek as a flower, and had
+never been so happy as when they had been together at a little farm in
+Tuscany with him by her side among the olives. Oh, she would approve
+his choice. And quite simply he addressed his dead mother, as though
+she were beside him, asking her if she could desire to have a daughter
+sweeter or more gentle. He had lapsed into his native Italian in this;
+but Fanny could follow his slow, devout words, and her eyes were full of
+tears, her heart of love.
+
+She now perceived how simple and gentle a nature was that of the young
+Roman. He remained unspoilt by the adulation which he had received
+both in his own country and in England. Seeing him thus revealing a
+simplicity which she had not associated with him before, she was led to
+ask herself if there was, after all, so great a difference between them
+as she had believed to exist. She had forgotten all about his singing,
+and he was now in her eyes nothing more than a man--the man who loved
+her. Ah, that was enough. He loved her, and therefore she was bound to
+save him from the mortification of hearing the whispers of the people
+around them asking how he could ever have been stupid enough to marry a
+girl like herself, who was a nobody and without a fortune, when he might
+have chosen any girl in the world.
+
+Her resolution came back to her with greater force than ever. Since
+he had made his nature plain to her, it would, she felt, be taking
+advantage of his simplicity to engage herself to him just as she was.
+She knew more of the world than he did. She knew how the world talked,
+and how it would talk regarding herself as well as regarding him in such
+a matter. He was simple and generous; it was necessary for her to take
+thought for both of them.
+
+“Have you heard me?” he asked of her in a whisper.
+
+“The tears are still in my eyes,” she replied. “Oh, my dear friend,
+cannot you see how bitter it is for me to be compelled to ask you to
+wait for these months that I spoke of? Cannot you see that it is a
+matter of conscience and honour? Ah, I should never forgive myself if I
+were to do other than I have done! If you----”
+
+“Dear one,” said he, “I ask for nothing more than to hear you tell me
+that you love me. Who am I, that I should demand your secret? So long as
+you do not conceal your love from me, I do not mind if you have a score
+of secrets locked away in your white bosom. Tell me again that you love
+me and all must be well.”
+
+She looked at him, but he knew that she could not see a feature of his
+face by reason of the tears that were still in her eyes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+|IT was on one of the last mornings in January that Mrs. Burney was
+reading out of the newly-arrived _London Chronicle_ such paragraphs as
+she thought would appeal to the varied interests of the breakfast-table.
+There were a few announcements of marriages about to take place between
+people whose names they knew, the amount of the bride's dowry being
+stated in each in plain figures, though Mrs. Burney took it upon her to
+affirm in one or two cases that the sum was exaggerated, or to suggest
+that if the father of the bride were just enough to pay his debts first,
+the portion of his daughter would be considerably reduced. In the case
+of one of the gentlemen, who was marrying thirty thousand pounds, she
+ventured to express the hope that he would now pay at least some of his
+creditors.
+
+These were, of course, the most interesting items of news, though their
+attractiveness was not greatly superior to that of the gossip respecting
+Mr. F------, who had been noticed in high dudgeon because of Lady
+P------'s dancing three times with Sir Julian Y------; or that which
+suggested that a reconcilement must have taken place between the
+beautiful Mrs. G------ and her husband, for they had been seen taking
+the air together in the Park.
+
+It was also pleasant to learn that His Majesty had given great
+encouragement to Mrs. Delany in the production of her ingenious mosaic
+flowers, in which she was so skilled as to excite the wonder of several
+criticks in the Royal circle; and also that His Royal Highness the
+Prince of Wales had been graciously pleased to say in publick that he
+had always admired the Perdita of the beautiful Mrs. Robinson, though he
+considered Mrs. Abington, on the whole, the most tasteful dresser in the
+Drury Lane company.
+
+It was only when Mrs. Burney had folded the newspaper and was about to
+put it away, that a few lines of an advertisement caught her eye--she
+commented before she read, as though she had been a fully qualified
+critic:
+
+“More novels! More stuff for the circulating libraries! Enough to make
+poor Mr. Richardson feel uncomfortable in his grave! Could he but have
+known that he was turning all England into novel readers he would never
+have put pen to paper. Here is another imitator in the field. 'Evelina;
+or, a Young Lady's Entrance into the World,' published to-day by Mr.
+Lowndes--three volumes, seven and sixpence sewed, nine shillings in
+covers. 'Evelina,' a distant cousin to 'Clarissa' and 'Pamela' I doubt
+not. I hope your father will not bring anyone here to dinner to-day.
+Hashed mutton is a wholesome dish, to be sure, but some visitors are
+fastidious. He may bring as many as he pleases to-morrow, for Mr.
+Greville's gift of pheasants will be on the table. Why are you staring
+so at your sister, Lottie?”
+
+Lottie was becoming a hardened dissembler: she scarcely started when
+asked to interpret certain furtive glances she cast at Fanny.
+
+“I was wondering if Fanny would make a face: she never was fond of
+hashed mutton,” said Lottie glibly. “If she had gone to school in France
+she would soon have got a liking for it, cooked as it is there.”
+
+“I am not partial to French kickshaws,” said Mrs. Burney. “There's
+nothing like good English fare. To my thinking, the principle of making
+food tasty when in ordinary circumstances it should not be so, is a bad
+one. Hash of mutton is wholesome food, and it should be eaten as such
+without further question. If Providence had meant it to be tasty as
+well, He would have made His intentions as plain as in the case of roast
+pheasant.”
+
+“Lottie will tell you that I made no face at the mention of hash of
+mutton,” said Fanny. “What does it signify whether one sits down to a
+simple platter of mutton hash or a great dinner such as father gets at
+Mr. Thrale's? A pair of geese, a leg of mutton, a tongue, a rib of roast
+beef and a brace of pheasants, with two or three dishes of fish, and for
+Dr. Johnson a veal pie or a piece of pork--those were on the table at
+one time. What is the benefit of such abundance, when all that one can
+eat is a single slice of beef?”
+
+She spoke rapidly, for she, too, had been a great dissembler. She meant
+to take away her stepmother's attention from those questionable glances
+which she had exchanged with Lottie; and she succeeded very well.
+
+“It would make no difference to us whether we had one dish or ten; but
+it makes all the difference in the world to Mr. Thrale. They say he has
+a prodigious appetite, and eats of at least six heavy dishes of meat at
+dinner.”
+
+“Mr. Baretti affirms that some day he will not awake from the stupor
+into which he falls after one of his heavy meals,” said Susy.
+
+“And all the time Mrs. Thrale is entreating him to be more moderate,”
+ cried Lottie.
+
+“A humiliating duty for such as Mrs. Thrale,” said her mother. “That
+shows how true is all that Fanny has remarked: a simple dish should be
+enough for any reasonable person. I have often wondered how the converse
+at the Streatham table could be so wise and witty if the master of
+the house eats like a hog, and Dr. Johnson, suffering from ill-health,
+expends so much energy over his pork that the veins stand out on his
+forehead and his face is bathed in perspiration.”
+
+“I am sure that Mrs. Thrale has wit and liveliness enough to serve for
+the whole company,” said Fanny.
+
+“She is chatty enough, I doubt not,” replied Mrs. Burney. “There are
+those who think she talks over-much for a woman.”
+
+“Not for a woman of fashion,” suggested Lottie with some pertness, when
+their stepmother had left the room. “It is long since Mrs. Thrale has
+invited mother to one of the Streatham dinners,” she added under her
+breath.
+
+And then the three fell upon the _Chronicle_ for the announcement of the
+book.
+
+They read it in whispers, each following the other, as though it were
+the _piano_ part of a catch or a glee, and glancing fearfully toward the
+door now and again, lest it should open and Mrs. Burney reappear.
+
+“How amazing it is!” said Susy. “This is the announcement of the birth
+of a baby--and such a baby!”
+
+“The birth and the christening and all,” said Lottie. “Oh, Fanny, I
+had no idea that it would be in the papers--I forgot that it would be
+advertised; and when mamma read this out I thought I should sink through
+the floor. So did you, I know.”
+
+“I only wish that it had been possible,” said Fanny. “I could feel
+myself getting hot all over my body. And then you gave me that look,
+Lottie!”
+
+“Could I help it?” asked Lottie. “You cannot blame me. I really thought
+that it was you who gave me a look, as much as to say: 'If you let the
+cat out of the bag I will never forgive you--no, never! '”
+
+“Never mind! Among us we managed to get out of the difficulty very well,
+I think. Were we not clever, guiding the conversation away from Mr.
+Lowndes's shop on to the high road to Streatham?” cried Susy.
+
+“'Twas the hash that saved us,” said Lottie. “Have you not heard dear
+Jim applying the sailors' expression, to make a hash of something? But
+we didn't make a hash of our matter, did we, Fanny?” said Susan.
+
+“We have become adroit dissemblers, and I am growing more ashamed of it
+every day,” cried Fanny. “I have reached the condition of a man of whom
+I read in a volume of history: he had committed a crime, and the effort
+that it cost him to keep it hidden so preyed upon his mind that he could
+stand the strain no longer, so he confessed it and was relieved.”
+
+“But he could not have been really happy until they hanged him,” said
+Susy. “And do you intend to confess and be hanged, Fanny? Please do not.
+I think it is the most exciting thing in the world to share a secret
+like this. I would not have missed the enjoyment for anything. Think,
+Fan, if you were to confess, you would draw us into it too--you would
+make us out to be as guilty as yourself.”
+
+“I will not confess,” said Fanny. “No; it would not be honourable of me.
+But I do feel that the secret is having a bad effect upon us all. It has
+made us all such--such--dissemblers.”
+
+“Psha!” said Lottie with a sniff. “That's only another way of saying
+that we are ladies of quality at an early age.”
+
+Fanny shook her head. She thought that if any proof were needed of the
+ill effects of their treasuring their secret from their parents, this
+cynical pertness of Lottie supplied it. She shook her head.
+
+“I should like 'Evelina' to come into mamma's hands,” continued Lottie.
+“She will go through the three volumes at a hand gallop, even though she
+did take it upon her to condemn it as being on a level with the odious
+stuff that comes to us nowadays.”
+
+“And if she condemns it so heartily before she has read it, what will
+she say about it when she has finished the last chapter?” asked Fanny.
+
+“She will say that it is the prettiest story that has been written since
+her dear Mr. Richardson died,” said Susy.
+
+“I doubt it, my dear,” said Fanny.
+
+“Well, let the worst come, she will never guess that you wrote it,”
+ laughed Lottie.
+
+“It is the padre whom I fear,” said Fanny. “Surely he will not need to
+go beyond the Ode on the first leaf to know that it is he himself whom I
+address.”
+
+“And if he should--smoke it?” asked Susy, lapsing into slang which she
+had acquired from her sailor brother, who was in no sense a purist.
+
+“If he should--well, either of two things will happen,” replied the
+authoress. “He will either think me the most double-dealing wretch in
+the world or the most dutiful of daughters.”
+
+“And which will be right?” asked Lottie.
+
+“Both views will be right,” said Fanny. “Although I meant every word
+of the Ode, I really think now that the idea of writing it before the
+dedication came to me only when I felt that I had behaved badly in
+sending the book to the printer without his consent.”
+
+“You wished the Ode to be a sort of peace-offering?” said Susy. “You
+hoped that when he read it he would forget to be angry? Well, that was
+cunning of you, Fanny!”
+
+“I tell you that the whole affair has had a bad effect upon us all,”
+ said Fanny gently.
+
+Once again she was conscious of someone telling her that there was no
+use crying over spilt milk, and this impression was followed by one that
+took the form of a resolution to be more careful in future. If she
+had spilt some milk once, that was no reason why she should not, by
+exercising proper forethought, refrain from doing so again.
+
+But the book was now given to the world, if the world would have it, but
+as yet a copy had not come into her hand. She wondered if she would
+have to spend seven and sixpence in buying a copy. Seven shillings and
+sixpence, sewed. It was a great deal of money. Was it possible that
+there were five hundred people in the world ready to pay seven and
+sixpence for a novel with the name of no author on the title page?
+(She thought it best to leave out of her consideration altogether the
+possible purchasers of the nine shilling set of bound volumes.)
+
+Who were the people that ever laid out so much money upon books which
+could be read through between the rising and the setting of the sun?
+She had never met such liberal enthusiasts. Of course, it was only
+reasonable that so splendid a work as the “History of Music” should be
+in the library of every house wherein people of taste resided, but that
+was not a book to be galloped through; some people might not be able to
+read it within a month. Besides, it bore the honoured name of Dr. Burney
+on the title page, and the fame of Dr. Burney was great. But as for that
+poor little seven-and-sixpenny sewed “Evelina,” how should anyone take
+an interest in her without reading her story? How would anyone read her
+story without feeling afterwards that seven-and-sixpence (leaving the
+nine shilling expenditure out of the question) was a ridiculous price to
+pay for such an entertainment?
+
+She felt that people would come to look on her as the instigator of a
+fraud if they paid their money and read the book and then found out
+that she had written it. The wisdom of concealing her name even from the
+bookseller was now more apparent to her than it had ever been. She had
+visions of indignant purchasers railing against Mr. Lowndes, and Mr.
+Lowndes searching for her, so that he might rail against her; and so her
+speculations ended in laughter; but even her laughter grated upon her
+sensitive ears: she felt that it was the malicious jeering of a clever
+cheat at the thought of having got the better of a worthy man.
+
+Her precious “Evelina” was leading her a pretty dance. If it had not
+been able to do so it would have been a paltry sort of book and she
+would have been a paltry sort of author.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+|TWO or three weeks passed without her hearing anything of the book, and
+it seemed as if it had fallen, as she had at some moments hoped it would
+fall, like a dull stone into the depths of the sea. She heard nothing of
+it, and soon she perceived that her sisters felt grievously disappointed
+at its failure to produce any impression upon the town. Even a dull
+stone, if dropped into the deep, creates a little fuss on the surface
+before it sinks out of sight; but Fanny's book did not, so far as they
+could see, produce even so superficial an impression. What they expected
+of it they might have had some trouble explaining; but as it was, they
+could not conceal their disappointment from Fanny; and they showed it
+after a short time in a very delicate way: they never alluded to the
+book in her presence. She perceived that what was in their minds was
+that it would show very bad taste on their part to refer to it in any
+way. She was grateful for their consideration; and she resolved to
+accept their decision on this point as final; she would never allude to
+the horrid thing in their hearing.
+
+It so happened, however, that she was left alone with Susy in the house
+one evening. Dr. Burney and his wife had gone to a concert at Esther's,
+and Lottie was staying for a day or two in the country. Susy was
+practising her part of a new duet on the piano, and Fanny was at her
+sewing. So far as conversation between the two sisters was concerned,
+the evening had been a very silent one. Indeed, during the whole week a
+constrained silence had marked the intercourse of the three girls.
+
+Susy hammered away at the music for half an hour; then her playing
+became more fitful, and at last it ceased altogether.
+
+There was a long silence before Fanny heard a little sound that caused
+her to raise her head. It was the sound of a sob, and when she looked up
+she saw that Susy was leaning her forehead upon the bottom of the music
+rest, weeping bitterly.
+
+Fanny was by her side in a moment.
+
+“Dearest Susy, what is the matter?” she said soothingly. “Tell me, dear;
+has anything happened? Has anyone been unkind to you? Have I unwittingly
+done or said anything that seemed to you unkind? Tell me all, Susy.”
+
+But Susy continued crying with her face hidden, though she yielded one
+of her hands to Fanny.
+
+“Come, my dear, I have helped you before now, and I may be able to help
+you now. Prithee, what is your trouble?” said Fanny, putting her arm
+round the girl's shoulders.
+
+Still Susy remained silent, except for her sobs.
+
+“Tell me,” said Fanny, in a whisper. “Is it that you think that I am
+chagrined about--about--the book?”
+
+In an instant Susy had whirled round on her seat and flung her arms
+round her sister's neck, laying her head on her shoulder.
+
+“Oh, Fanny, Fanny, 'tis too cruel!” she sobbed. “We were sure that so
+much would come of it--it seemed so splendid to read, even before it
+was printed--so much better than any other story that ever came into our
+hands--and you worked so hard at it--every spare moment when you might
+have been enjoying yourself--in the cold of last winter up in that
+room--and at Lynn too--and Chessington--and now, when we think that your
+cleverness, your patience, your genius, is to be rewarded, nothing comes
+of it--all your trouble has gone for nothing--all our secrecy! Oh, it is
+too cruel!”
+
+“You dear child,” said Fanny. “It is only cruel if it sets you crying in
+this way. What does it matter to anyone if the book has gone and nothing
+has come of it? I have been thinking that writing a book and publishing
+it is like throwing a stone into the sea. It may fall so that it sinks
+down plumb, or it may fall so that it makes a splash for a while, but
+it sinks to the bottom all the same. Success or failure is only the
+difference between a splash and a ripple. We were fools to fancy that
+our little stone would float.”
+
+“But it was not a stone, it was full of life and it should have--it
+should have--swum! Oh, the people who buy books are so stupid!”
+
+“They are--that was the hope that I builded on. They are stupid, but not
+stupid enough to buy my book.”
+
+“Oh, Fanny!”
+
+“That is really the frame of mind that I find myself in to-day. I tell
+you truly, Susy, that after the first week, I schooled myself to think
+of the business in this way; and I am certain that in another month I
+shall even feel delighted that my little pebble made no splash. Look at
+the matter philosophically, Susy.”
+
+“Oh, philosophically!”
+
+“Well, reasonably. Are we in a different position to-day from that we
+were in before the book was published? We are not. We are just the same
+as we were before. It has not injured us in any way. Nay, if you think
+of it, we are--I, at least, am--all the better for having failed, for I
+have learned my lesson. I was beginning to feel cleverer than I had any
+right to think myself, and this has come as a chastening--to make me
+know my right place. These rebukes do not come by chance, Susy. I know
+now that I was inclined to hold my head too high. I don't think that I
+will do so again.”
+
+“You never held your head too high--just the opposite. And I think it
+very cruel that you should be rebuked for nothing. But I do not blame
+_anyone_ except the wretched people who refused to buy your nice book,
+but spent their seven and sixpence at Vauxhall or Ranelagh--perhaps
+watching Mr. Foote and his puppets at the Haymarket. Oh, I have no
+patience with them! Why, it only needed a thousand people to buy the
+book and it would have been accounted a success!”
+
+“Then we shall put the blame on the shoulders of that thousand,
+wheresoever they may be found, and for my part I shall not hold a second
+thousand altogether blameless--my indignation may even extend to a
+third. Now, that's the last word I mean to speak about the book. It
+has by this time reached the bottom of the sea on which I threw it; and
+there let it lie!”
+
+“You are an angel--I see that plainly now.”
+
+“Ah, there you see, what I said was true: I am much better for the
+rebuke I talked about; you never perceived before that I was an angel.
+Now let that be the last word between us on the subject of my poor
+little 'Evelina.' Her entrance into the world has proved fatal. Oh,
+Susy, she was stillborn, but her parent is making a rapid recovery.”
+
+“That may be; but cannot you join with me in----”
+
+“I will join with you in maintaining silence on the subject of the little
+one. I cannot bear to hear her name mentioned. I refuse to say another
+word about her or her fate. She must have been greatly beloved of
+the gods to die so young. Let that be 'Evelina's' epitaph. I will say
+nothing more about her.”
+
+It so happened, however, that she was compelled to say a good deal more
+on the subject, for within half an hour Cousin Edward had called, and he
+began to talk of “Evelina” at once.
+
+“I went to Hill's library in the Strand yesterday, to get a book for
+mother, and there, sure enough, I saw your 'Evelina,'” said he. “I asked
+the man in charge what it was about, and he replied that he didn't know;
+it was bad enough, he thought, to be compelled to hand out books all day
+to readers without being forced to read them for himself; but he
+supposed that 'Evelina' was a novel of the usual sort.”
+
+“That was not extravagant praise,” remarked Susy.
+
+“He didn't mean to praise it,” said Edward. “But when I asked him if
+anyone who had read it had recommended it, he admitted that every one
+of the five ladies who had read it was ready to speak well of it--one of
+them had taken it away a second time; and--would you believe it?--while
+I was standing at the counter a footman entered the shop with a demand
+for 'Eveliena,' as he called it; and he carried off the copy that was
+already on the desk.”
+
+“For the delectation of the servants' hall?” suggested Fanny.
+
+“Not at all--it had been recommended to her ladyship, he said, and he
+had been commanded on no account to return without it; her ladyship
+was liberal; she would not mind paying sixpence for it, instead of the
+ordinary fourpence.”
+
+“That was more than liberal, it was generous to a degree,” said Fanny.
+
+“Don't interrupt him,” cried Susy. “Continue your narrative, Eddy. I am
+dying to hear the rest.”
+
+“I asked the library man if he knew who wrote the book, and he
+replied that he had heard the name, but had forgotten it; so far as he
+remembered the author was a peer of high rank but eccentric habits,”
+ said Edward.
+
+“The book represented his eccentric habits, I suppose,” remarked Fanny.
+
+“I ran out of the place roaring,” said Edward. “'A peer of high rank but
+eccentric habits'--describes you to a T, doesn't it, Cousin Fanny? Pray
+what is your lordship's next work to be, and when will it be given to an
+eager world?”
+
+“Is that all you have to tell?” asked Susy.
+
+“By no means. When I heard that the book was thought well of in
+the Strand, I thought I would try to get at the opinion of Stanhope
+Street--you know Masterman's circulating library there? Well, I boldly
+entered, and there, sure enough, was a well-thumbed 'Evelina' in front
+of the librarian. I asked for some book that no one had ever heard of,
+and when the librarian had told me that he had never been asked for that
+book before, I pointed to 'Evelina,' inquiring if it was any good. 'I'm
+dead tired on account of its goodness, for I was fool enough to take
+it to bed with me last night, and I never closed my eyes in sleep,'
+he replied. 'I had it praised to me by a lady of quality, and so too
+hastily concluded that it would either send me asleep with its dullness,
+or shock me with its ribaldry; but it did neither, unhappily.' Just then
+a chariot stopped at the door and another footman entered with the name
+'Evelina' written on a sheet of paper, and off he popped with the full
+three volumes under his arm. I waited no longer; but hurried hither
+to give you my news. I did not get so far, however, for I was unlucky
+enough to be overtaken by that vile downpour of rain, and it did not
+blow over until your dinner hour was at hand.”
+
+“You are my good angel,” cried Fanny, her cheeks glowing. “We have heard
+nothing of all this respecting the book, and, hearing nothing, we took
+it for granted that it was dead--dead before it was ever alive. Oh, this
+is good news you have brought us, Eddy!”
+
+“The best news that has come to us for months!” said Susy. She had
+turned her head away and was furtively wiping her eyes. The good news
+affected the sympathetic Susy almost as deeply as her disappointment had
+done.
+
+“But I have only told you of my adventures of yesterday,” said
+Edward. “To-day I tried the booksellers, beginning with Mr. Davies and
+working-round to the Dillys in the Poultry--it cost me three shillings,
+for I had to buy something that I did not particularly want in every
+shop to excuse my inquiries--and I found 'Evelina' on every counter. I
+cannot say that any customer came in to buy it while I was in any shop,
+but you may be sure that the book would not be on the counter unless it
+was highly thought of. Of course I had need to be very discreet among
+the booksellers; I dared not ask who was the author, but I longed to do
+so, if only to hear what new story had been made up about it.”
+
+“You heard quite enough to make us glad,” cried Susy. “Oh, how foolish
+we were to take it for granted that because we had no news of the book,
+it was dead! It is alive--greatly alive, it would appear! How could any
+news of it have come to us here? We should have gone forth in search of
+it.”
+
+“I knew that we could depend on your discretion,” said Fanny, laying a
+hand on each of his shoulders. “I do not think that I ever thanked you
+as I should for the wise way in which you managed the business with Mr.
+Lowndes, and now I must not neglect to do so for having acted the part
+of a benevolent agent in bringing us such good news about the book.”
+
+“Psha! there should be no talk of gratitude and the like between us,”
+ said he. “There are family ties--I think of the honour of our family.
+People already talk of the clever Burneys, but they left you out of the
+question, Cousin Fanny, since they only thought of music. But now
+that you have shown what you can do in another direction, you must be
+reckoned with alongside the others.”
+
+“And what about the other branch of the clever Burneys?” said Fanny.
+“Don't you think that people will some of these days begin to ask if
+Edward Burney, the great painter, is really a brother of the musical
+Burneys? I hope they will, dear Edward; I hope that the fame of Edward
+Burney, the painter, will go far beyond that of the musical Burneys, as
+well as poor Fanny Burney who once wrote a novel.”
+
+The young man blushed as Fanny herself would certainly have done if
+confronted with the least little compliment. But there was no false
+shame about his acceptance of her suggestion.
+
+“I mean to become as good a painter as I can, in order to be worthy of
+the name of Burney,” said he. “I feel proud of being a Burney--more so
+to-day than ever before, and I hope that the rest of the Burney's will
+some day look on me as doing credit to our name.”
+
+“I am sure that they will have every reason to do so,” said Fanny.
+
+When he had gone, Susy gave way to her delight at the news which he had
+brought. She was a good deal taller than Fanny, and catching her round
+the waist after the manner of the Elizabethan dancer with his partner,
+she danced round the table with her, lilting a somewhat breathless pæan.
+Fanny herself needed no coaxing to be her partner in this revel. In
+her jubilant moments she got rid of the primness which most people
+associated with her. She had a wild jig known as “Nancy Dawson,” and
+she had more than once found it necessary to get rid of her superfluous
+spirits through this medium. She joined in her sister's little whoop
+at the completion of the third “lap” of the table, and they both threw
+themselves breathless on the sofa.
+
+“I knew it,” said Susy between her gasps. “I knew that I could not be
+mistaken in believing 'Evelina' to be good--I knew that she would make
+her way in the affections of her readers, and I was right--you see I was
+right.”
+
+“You were right, dear Susy--quite right,” said Fanny. “I do not like
+to be too sanguine, but I do believe, from the reports Eddy brought us,
+that the book will find plenty of readers. Now that we can think over
+the matter in a reasonable way, we must see how foolish we were to
+expect that the very day after the book was published people would crowd
+to buy it; but now, after six weeks, when Eddy goes in search of news
+about it, he brings back a report which is--we had best say for the
+present no more than 'quite satisfactory'--that was the bookseller's
+report about the sales of the first volume of the padre's
+'History'--'quite satisfactory'--that should be quite satisfactory for
+the author of 'Evelina' and her sisters. There is nothing in the book to
+stir people as it would if written by Mr. Wilkes, but in its humble way
+it will, I am now persuaded, be pronounced 'quite satisfactory.' At any
+rate, there goes my sewing for the evening.”
+
+She rolled up the strip of linen into a ball and used her hand, after
+two false starts, as a battledore, to send it flying across the room
+within reach of Susy, who, being more adroit, was able at the first
+attempt to return it with both force and precision. Once more Fanny
+struck it, and her sister sent it back, but by this time the unequal
+ball had opened out, so that it was only by her foot that Fanny could
+deal with it effectively. Then, daintily holding up their petticoats,
+the author of “Evelina” and Susy Burney played with the thing until once
+more they were panting and laughing joyously.
+
+Perhaps Fanny had a faint inkling of the symbolism implied by this
+treatment of the discarded needlework.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+|BUT little Miss Burney had recovered all her primness on the evening
+when, a week later, she accompanied her stepmother to partake of tea at
+the home of the Barlowes in the Poultry.
+
+Young Mr. Barlowe had, for some time after his visit to St. Martin's
+Street, brooded over his indiscretion in allowing his impulse at the
+moment of saying good night to carry him away so that he pressed Miss
+Burney's hand, looking into her eyes with an expression in his own of
+the deepest sympathy--rather more than sympathy. He felt that he had
+been unduly and indiscreetly hasty in his action. It had been purely
+impulsive. He had by no means made up his mind that Miss Burney would
+make him a satisfactory wife. His father and mother had, for a long
+time, thought very highly of Mrs. Burney, looking on her as a most
+thrifty and excellent manager of a household. She had shown herself
+to be all this and more when her first husband was alive and they had
+visited her at Lynn; and she had proved her capabilities in the same
+direction since she had married Dr. Burney. Unfortunately, however,
+the virtues of a stepmother could not be depended on to descend to the
+children of her husband's family, and it was by no means certain that
+Miss Burney had made full use of her opportunities of modelling herself
+upon her father's second wife.
+
+No, he had not quite made up his mind on this subject--the gravest that
+had ever occupied his attention, and he remained sleepless for hours,
+fearful that he had gone too far in that look and that squeeze. He had
+heard of fathers and even brothers waiting upon young men who had acted
+toward a daughter or a sister pretty much as he had in regard to Miss
+Burney. He had rather a dread of being visited by Miss Burney's brother,
+that young naval officer who had boasted of having been educated by a
+murderer. Mr. Barlowe thought that a visit from such a young man would
+be most undesirable, and for several days he went about his business
+with great uneasiness.
+
+But when a week had gone by and neither father nor brother had waited
+upon him, he began to review his position more indulgently than when he
+had previously given it his consideration. He thought more hopefully of
+Miss Burney as a wife. Perhaps she might have profited more largely than
+he had thought by her daily intercourse with so capable a woman as Mrs.
+Burney. At any rate, she was not musical, and that was something in her
+favour. Then her stepmother had praised her needlework, and everyone
+knows that to be a good sempstress is next to being a good housekeeper.
+
+He thought that on the whole she would do. Her brother, Lieutenant
+Burney, would naturally spend most of his time at sea. That was a good
+thing. Thomas felt that he should hesitate to make any change in his
+life that involved a liability of frequent visits from a young man who
+had been taught by a murderer. Who could tell what might happen in the
+case of such a young man? As for Miss Burney herself, she was,
+quite apart from her housewifely qualities, a most estimable young
+lady--modest and retiring, as a young woman should be, and very
+beautiful. To be sure, he had often heard that beauty was only skin
+deep, but even assuming that it did not go any deeper, it had always
+been highly esteemed by men--none of them seemed to wish it to be of any
+greater depth; and it was certain that a man with a handsome wife was
+greatly envied--more so even than a man who was married to a plain woman
+but a good housewife. Oh, undoubtedly her beauty commended her to his
+most indulgent consideration. He had no objection in the world to be
+widely envied, if only on account of his wife's good looks. It never
+occurred to him that it might be that some people would think very
+ordinary a face that seemed to one who was in love with it extremely
+lovely. He preserved the precious privilege of a man to raise up his own
+standard of beauty and expect all the rest of the world to acknowledge
+its supremacy.
+
+Yes, he thought that Miss Burney, beauty and all, would suit him, but
+still he hesitated in making another call.
+
+This was when Mr. Kendal had the honour of waiting upon Mrs. Burney, and
+his visit only preceded by a day or two Mrs. Burney's call upon her old
+friend, Mrs. Barlowe, in the Poultry; this interchange of courtesies
+being speedily followed by an invitation for Mrs. Burney and a
+stepdaughter to drink tea with the Barlowe family.
+
+“I am taking you with me, Fanny, because you are the eldest and, as
+should be, the most sensible of the household,” said Mrs. Burney,
+explaining--so far as she thought wise--the invitation on the morning it
+was received. “There will be no music at Mrs. Barlowe's, I think, and
+so you will have no distracting influence to prevent your forming a just
+opinion of my old friends.”
+
+“I do not mind in the least the absence of music for one night,” said
+Fanny.
+
+“I am sure of that,” said Mrs. Burney. “Goodness knows we have music
+enough here during any day to last us over a whole week. The
+others could not live without it, even if it were not your father's
+profession.”
+
+“Without which none of us could live,” remarked Fanny, who had no
+wish to be forced into the position of the opponent of music in the
+household.
+
+“Quite right, my dear,” acquiesced the elder lady. “It is a precarious
+way of making a living. To my mind there is nothing so satisfactory as a
+good commercial business--a merchant with a shop at his back can afford
+to laugh at all the world.”
+
+“But he usually refrains,” said Fanny.
+
+“True; he looks at life with proper seriousness, and without levity.
+Great fortunes are the result of serious attention to business. Levity
+leads to poverty.”
+
+“Except in the case of Mr. Garrick and a few others.”
+
+“Mr. Garrick is certainly an exception. But, then, you must remember
+that he was a merchant before he became an actor, and his business
+habits never left him. I have heard it said that he got more out of his
+company for the salaries he paid than any theatre manager in Europe.
+But I did not come to you to talk about Mr. Garrick. I only meant to say
+that I know you are an observant girl. You do not merely glance at the
+surface of things, so I am sure that you will perceive much to respect
+in all the members of Mrs. Barlowe's family.”
+
+“I am sure they are eminently--respectable, mamma; and I am glad that
+you have chosen me to be your companion this evening. I like going among
+such people--it is useful.”
+
+She stopped short in a way that should have aroused the suspicions of
+Mrs. Burney, but that lady was unsuspecting, she was only puzzled.
+
+“Useful?” she said interrogatively.
+
+Fanny had no mind to explain that she thought herself rather good at
+describing people of the Barlowe type, and was ready to submit herself
+to more experience of them in case she might be encouraged to write
+another novel. But she knew that she would have some difficulty in
+explaining this to her stepmother, who herself was an excellent type.
+
+“Useful--perhaps I should rather have said 'instructive,'” she replied,
+after a little pause.
+
+“Instructive, yes; I am glad that you look at our visit so sensibly--I
+knew you would do so. Yes, you should learn much of the excellence of
+these people even in the short time that we shall be with them. And it
+is well that you should remember, my dear Fanny, that you are now quite
+old enough to have a house of your own to look after.”
+
+It was now Fanny's turn to seem puzzled.
+
+“I do not quite see how--I mean why--why--that is, the connection--is
+there any connection between----?”
+
+“What I mean to say is that if at some time a suitor for your hand
+should appear, belonging to a respectable mercantile family, you will
+know, without the need of any telling, that your chances of happiness
+with such a man are far greater than they would be were you to wed
+someone whose means of getting a living were solely the practice of some
+of the arts, as they are called--music or painting or the rest.”
+
+“I do not doubt that, mamma,” said Fanny demurely. She was beginning to
+think that her stepmother was a far better type than she had fancied.
+
+And her stepmother was beginning to think that she had never given Fanny
+credit for all the good sense she possessed.
+
+The six o'clock tea-party in the Poultry was a function that Fanny
+Burney's quick pen only could describe as it deserved to be described.
+All the time that it was proceeding her fingers were itching to start
+on it. She could see Mr. Crisp smiling in that appreciative way that he
+had, as he read her smart sentences, every one of them with its little
+acid flavour, that remained on the palate of his memory. She was an
+artist in character drawing, and she was one of the first to perceive
+how excellent was the material for artistic treatment that might be
+found in the house of the English tradesman--the superior tradesman
+who aspired to be called a merchant. She neglected no opportunity of
+observing such houses; it was only when she was daily consorting with
+people of the highest rank that she became alarmed lest her descriptions
+should be accepted as proof that she was in the habit of meeting on
+terms of intimacy the types of English bourgeois which she had drawn.
+
+The ground-floor of Mr. Barlowe's house in the Poultry was given over to
+his business, which, as has already been mentioned, was that of a
+vendor of gold and silver lace. The walls carried shelves from floor to
+ceiling, and every shelf had its line of boxes enclosing samples of an
+abundant and valuable stock. The large room at the back was a sort of
+counting-house parlour, where Mr. Barlowe sat during the day with his
+son and an elderly clerk, ready for the customers, whose arrival was
+announced by the ringing of a spring.-bell. The scales for the weighing
+of the bullion and the worked gold and silver wire were suspended above,
+the broad counter in the shop, and from a hook between the shelves there
+hung a number of ruled forms with spaces for oz., dwt. and grs. On these
+were entered the particulars of the material supplied to the workmen who
+made up the lace as required. The upper part of the house was the home
+of the family, the spacious dining-room being in the front, its convex
+windows overhanging the busy thoroughfare. Opening off this apartment
+was an equally large drawingroom, and the furniture of both was of
+walnut made in the reign of Queen Anne, with an occasional piece of
+Dutch marqueterie of the heavier character favoured by the craftsmen of
+the previous sovereigns. The rooms themselves were panelled with oak and
+lighted by candles in brass sconces.
+
+It seemed to Fanny, on entering the diningroom, that every seat was
+occupied. But she soon saw that there were several vacant chairs. It
+was the imposing row of figures confronting her that made the room seem
+full, although only six persons were present besides young Mr. Barlowe
+and his parents, who met Mrs. Burney and her stepdaughter at the door.
+Fanny greeted Thomas at once, and she could see that his eyes were
+beaming, but with a rather more subdued light than shone in them on that
+night when he had pressed her hand.
+
+She was conscious, at the same time, of the approach of a big elderly
+gentleman, wearing a well-ordered wig, evidently newly curled, with a
+small lady clad in expensive and expansive black silk by his side. He
+was holding the tips of her fingers and they advanced in step as though
+they were starting to dance a minuet.
+
+They stood in front of her and her mother, while Thomas, moving to one
+side, said, making a low bow:
+
+“Miss Burney, I have the honour to present to you my father, Mr.
+Barlowe, and my mother, Mrs. Barlowe. Mrs. Burney, madam, you are, I
+know, already acquainted with my parents.”
+
+The little lady curtsied and her husband made a fine shopkeeper's bow,
+first to Fanny, then to Mrs. Burney.
+
+The formality of the presentation was overwhelming to poor Fanny. She
+could feel herself blushing, and she certainly was more overcome than
+she had been when Count Orloff, the Russian, visited the house in St.
+Martin's Street and she gazed with awe upon the thumb that had, it was
+rumoured, pressed too rigidly the wind-pipe of the unfortunate Peter.
+All that she could do was to try to hide her confusion by the deepest of
+curtsies.
+
+“We are sensible of the honour you have done us, madam,” said Mr.
+Barlowe when he had recovered himself--he was addressing Fanny, ignoring
+for the moment the presence of Mrs. Burney.
+
+“Our son has spoken to us of you with great admiration, Miss Burney,”
+ said the little lady. “But I protest that when I look at you I feel as
+King Solomon did when he saw the Queen of Sheba, the half has not been
+told.”
+
+“Oh, madam, you flatter me,” said Fanny, trying to put some force into a
+voice that her shyness had rendered scarcely audible.
+
+Her stepmother, perceiving how she was suffering, hastened to greet in
+a much less formal way their host and hostess; but she had considerable
+difficulty in bringing them down to her level. It seemed that they had
+prepared some high phrases of welcome for their younger visitor only,
+and they had no mind that they should be wasted.
+
+“My stepdaughter is of a retiring nature,” said Mrs. Burney. “She is
+quite unused to such ceremony as you honour her with. Well, Martha, how
+is the rheumatism?”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+|MRS. BARLOWE did not seem half pleased to be brought down so from the
+high parallels of etiquette among which she had been soaring. But she
+had lost her place, and before she could recover herself, Fanny had
+slipped behind her stepmother.
+
+“Ask me all about her rheumatism, madam, for 'tis me that knows more
+about it than her,” said Mr. Barlowe, with a jerk of his thumb and a
+wink in the direction of his wife. The homely enquiry of Mrs. Burney had
+clearly forced him to throw off all ceremony and treat the visit of Miss
+Burney as an ordinary domestic incident.
+
+His wife would have none of this, however; she said in tones of stiff
+reproof:
+
+“Mr. Barlowe, you forget that the young lady has not been presented to
+Brother Jonathan or the Alderman. Thomas, it is for you to usher the
+lady into the presence of your uncles and aunts. Pray be not remiss,
+Thomas. There is no excuse for such an omission.”
+
+“I was only waiting until you had finished, ma'am,” said Thomas.
+
+“I have finished,” she replied, with a stiff nod. “To be sure, 'twas my
+intention to express, in what I trust would be appropriate terms, our
+happiness in welcoming Miss Burney to our humble home; a few phrases of
+this sort were not thought out of place when I was young; but it appears
+that your father knows better what is _comme il faut_ and _haut ton_
+than me. Bring the young lady forward, Thomas.”
+
+The younger Thomas looked dubiously from his mother to his father.
+He was uncommonly like an actor who had forgotten his part, Fanny
+thought--he had no initiative. Fanny herself was more at home than any
+of the household. While the young man hesitated, she walked up the room
+as if she meant to present herself to the six figures that sat in a row
+at the farther end.
+
+Thomas was beside her in a moment.
+
+“I ask your pardon, Miss Burney,” he said. “But I knew that mamma had at
+least two more welcomes for your ear, and I feared that she had forgot
+them. Do not you think that mamma speaks well? Perhaps it would be
+unjust to judge her by what she said--she only made a beginning. You
+will be delighted when you are going away.”
+
+Fanny felt that this prediction was certain to be realized.
+
+“Yes, mamma's good-byes are as well worded as her greetings,” he
+continued; “a clergyman could scarcely better them; and I hope----”
+
+But now they were face to face with the six figures sitting in a row,
+and as his conversation was only designed as an accompaniment to the
+march of Fanny to this position, there was no reason to continue it.
+
+The figures were of two men and four ladies. The former were middle-aged
+and bore an expression of gravity that a judge might have envied. Their
+dress was sombre, but of the finest material possible to buy, and each
+of them was painfully conscious of being in unusual garments. Of course,
+Fanny saw in a moment that they were merchants wearing the garments in
+which they attended church.
+
+Of the four ladies, three were elderly and the fourth much younger. They
+wore their hair built up in a way that suggested that they desired to
+follow the fashion but had not the courage to complete the scheme with
+which they had started. The long and thin and highly-coloured feathers
+which crowned the stunted structures on their heads gave them the
+appearance of a picture of unfamiliar birds. Their dresses were
+extremely glossy and of an expensive material, but there was an
+eccentric note about all that made them seem not impressive as they
+should have been, but almost ludicrous. The youngest lady in the row
+showed unmistakable signs of being given to simpering. She had gone much
+further than the others of the party in the architecture of her hair,
+but that was possibly because the material at her command was more
+abundant. The dressing of her hair, however, was by no means in sympathy
+with the style of her garments, the latter being simple and indeed
+rather too girlish for the wearer, who looked between twenty-five and
+thirty.
+
+It was an extraordinary ordeal that confronted Miss Burney, for young
+Mr. Barlowe began presenting her to the group, starting from his left
+and working slowly to the last of the row on the right. There was
+she with the young man standing close to her, but sideways, doing the
+formalities of presenting her, while his father and mother stood behind
+to see that he omitted nothing. Mrs. Burney, a little way apart, was
+alternately smiling and frowning at the ceremonial. She could see, from
+observing the effect that the whole business was producing upon Fanny,
+that the Barlowes were defeating their own ends, assuming that
+they desired Fanny to become a member of their family. These absurd
+formalities were, Mrs. Burney knew, quite out of place in a private
+house. But what could she do to cut them short? She had made an attempt
+before, and it was received in anything but a friendly spirit by their
+hostess, so that she did not feel inclined to interfere again: the thing
+must run its course, she felt, reflecting upon it as though it were a
+malady. There was no means of curtailing it.
+
+And its course was a slow one for the unhappy victim.
+
+“Miss Burney, I have the honour to present my aunt on my mother's
+side--Mrs. Alderman Kensit,” droned Thomas, and the lady on the extreme
+left rose at the mention of her name and made a carefully prepared
+curtsey, while the sky-blue feather in her hair jerked awkwardly forward
+until the end almost touched her nose.
+
+“Proud to meet Miss Burney, I vow,” said she as she rose; and anyone
+could see from the expression on her face that she was satisfied that
+she had gone far in proving her claim to be looked on as a lady of
+fashion. She had never said “I vow” before, and she knew that it had
+startled her relations. She felt that she could not help that. Miss
+Burney would understand that she was face to face with someone who had
+mingled with the best.
+
+“And this is Aunt Maria, father's sister, Mrs. Hutchings,” came the
+voice of Thomas, and the second lady bobbed up with quivering feathers
+and made a well-practised curtsey. She did not trust herself to speak.
+Having heard her neighbour's “I vow,” she knew that she could not go
+farther. She would not compete with such an exponent of the mysteries of
+_haut ton_.
+
+“And this is Alderman Kensit of the Common Council; he is my uncle on my
+mother's side--mother is a Kensit, you know,” resumed Thomas. “And
+this is Aunt Jelicoe. My mother's sister married Mr. Jelicoe, of Tooley
+Street. And this is my cousin, Miss Jelicoe. I am sure that you will
+like Miss Jelicoe, Miss Burney, she is so young.”
+
+The youngest lady of the group simpered with great shyness, concealing
+half her face with her fan and holding her head to one side, and then
+pretending to be terribly fluttered. Her curtsey was made in a flurry,
+and with a little exclamation of “Oh, la!”
+
+Another uncle only remained to be presented; he turned out to be Mr.
+Jonathan Barlowe, and he was, Thomas whispered half audibly to Fanny, in
+trade in the Indies.
+
+It was all over, curtsies and bows and exclamations--echoes of the world
+of fashion and elsewhere--she had been presented to every member of the
+row and they had resumed their seats, while she hastened to the side of
+her stepmother, hot and breathless. She had never before been subjected
+to such an ordeal. She had gladly agreed to accompany her stepmother to
+this house, for she hoped thereby to increase her observation of a class
+of people who repaid her study of them; but she had no notion that she
+should have to vacate her place as an Observer and take up that of a
+Participator. She was to pay dearly for her experience.
+
+She was burning, her stepmother could see; and she believed that this
+was due to her mortification on noticing that the dress of the ladies
+was infinitely more expensive than hers. That would be enough to make
+any young woman with ordinary susceptibilities indignant, she felt; and
+she herself, having had an opportunity of giving some attention to
+the expensive silks--she could appraise their value to a penny--was
+conscious of some chagrin on this account. She was almost out of
+patience with her old friend, Martha Barlowe, for making all this
+parade. The foolish woman had done so, she knew, in order to impress
+Miss Burney and to give her to understand that she was becoming
+associated with no ordinary family. But Mrs. Burney had seen enough
+since she had left Lynn for London to know that Fanny would not be the
+least impressed except in the direction of boredom by such an excess of
+ceremony in the house of a tradesman. She had heard Fanny's comment upon
+the gorgeous chariot which Sir Joshua Reynolds had set up, and she could
+not doubt what Fanny's opinion would be regarding this simple tea to
+which she had consented to go at the Barlowes' house.
+
+Fanny had hurried to her side as soon as she had passed the row of
+uncles and aunts. She thought that the girl seemed overcome by the
+tedium of the formalities; but in a few minutes she saw that Fanny was
+on the verge of laughter.
+
+Mrs. Burney could not say whether she would rather that her charge
+became moody or hilarious.
+
+“Eight separate curtsies,” murmured Fanny. “If there are to be the same
+number going away we should begin at once.”
+
+Mrs. Burney thought it better not to reprove her for her flippancy just
+at that moment. She condoned it with a smile.
+
+Only a minute were the Burneys left to themselves. Mr. Barlowe, the
+elder, walked solemnly up to them.
+
+“Going on nicely, eh?” he said in a confidential way to Mrs. Burney.
+“Everything being done decently and in order, madam. There has been no
+cause of offence up to the present, though there are three persons in
+that row who are as ready to see an offence where none is meant as a
+bunch of flax to break into flame when a spark falls on it. The young
+lady is discreet; if she had spoken to any one of them and not to the
+others, there would have been a flare-up. The touchy ones belong to my
+wife's family. She was a Kensit, you know.”
+
+He made this explanation behind his hand and in a whisper; he saw that
+his wife and son had been in earnest consultation together over some
+vexed question, and now they were hovering about, waiting to catch his
+eye.
+
+“I spoke too soon,” he said. “Something has gone astray, and the blame
+will fall on me.”
+
+They hovered still nearer, and when he caught his eye, Thomas, the
+younger, stepped up to his father, saying something in his ear. Mrs.
+Barlowe went on hovering a yard or two away.
+
+“That would never do,” said her husband, evidently in reply to some
+remonstrance offered by young Thomas. “Never. The whole of the Kensits
+would take offence.” Then he turned again to Mrs. Burney, saying:
+
+“Mrs. Burney, madam, my son has just reminded me that I have been remiss
+in doing my duty. It was left to me to present you to our relations at
+the head of the room, but I failed to do so, my mind being too full of
+the pretty curtsies of Miss. But I am ready to make amends now.”
+
+But Mrs. Burney had observed a little twinkle in Fanny's eye; she had
+no notion of going through the ordeal to which Fanny had been subjected,
+though the spectacle would doubtless have diverted Fanny hugely.
+
+“Nay, sir,” she said quickly to the waiting gentleman, “Nay, sir; you
+have forgotten that the presentation of a lady's daughter is equivalent
+to the presentation of the lady herself.”
+
+“What, is that so?” said he.
+
+“Rest assured that it is,” said she, “and an excellent rule it is. It
+saves a repetition of a formality that is now frequently omitted in the
+private houses of simple folk like ourselves. Lend me your arm, sir. I
+shall soon make myself at home with Martha's relations.”
+
+She did not give him a chance of discussing the point with her; she saw
+that he was about to state his objections to the rule she had invented
+for her own saving, and she was already in advance of him in approaching
+the row of figures on the chairs against the wall. Fanny heard her
+greeting them in turn without any formality, and once again Thomas, the
+younger, was by her side.
+
+His mother was still hovering, glancing suspiciously, first at the young
+couple, and then at the hasty proceedings of her friend, Mrs. Burney.
+
+“It was unlike father to make so grave an omission, Miss Burney,” he
+said, apologetically.
+
+“I hope that no harm will come of it,” said Fanny. “I am afraid that you
+found us very homely folk at our little house when you did us the honour
+of visiting us,” she added.
+
+He waved his hand indulgently, smiling over her head.
+
+“I am always ready to take my place in such a circle,” said he,
+“though all the time I have a pretty full knowledge of the exchange of
+courtesies which should mark the introduction of a stranger. Oh, yes, I
+do not mind meeting some people as an equal, if they do not presume upon
+me afterwards. Your brother has gone back to sea, I hear?” he added.
+
+“Yes, we shall not see him again for two years,” she replied. “Did he
+presume upon you, sir? If so, I will take it upon me to offer you a
+humble apology.”
+
+“I was considering if it might be possible that he was himself mistaken
+in regard to the ear-trumpet,” said Thomas.
+
+“Sir Joshua's ear-trumpet? What of that?”
+
+“Lieutenant Burney told me that it was a newly invented musical
+instrument, blown by the ear instead of the mouth. It was not until I
+had spoken of it to my father that I learned that the instrument was an
+ear-trumpet used by the deaf. I had never seen one before. I wonder if
+your brother intentionally deceived me.”
+
+“My brother is an officer in His Majesty's Fleet, sir.”
+
+“What does that mean, miss?”
+
+“It means that he would resent an accusation of falsehood, sir.”
+
+“Pray do not misunderstand me; I would shrink from accusing him of any
+conduct unworthy of an officer and a gentleman. But I was certainly
+deceived in fancying that the ear-trumpet was a musical instrument.”
+
+Fanny made no reply. Her attention was directed to the entrance of two
+servants, one bearing a large urn, the other a dish on which lay an
+immense ham.
+
+“I hope you have an appetite, Miss Burney,” said young Thomas. “If so,
+you will be able to stay it at that table, I'll warrant. Tea and cake
+may be well enough for such as dine at four, but for us, who are three
+hours earlier, something more substantial is needed. You will find that
+there is no stint in this house.”
+
+Fanny had an idea that the young man meant to suggest that she would
+find the tea-table at the Poultry to make a striking contrast to that of
+St. Martin's Street; and she was not mistaken.
+
+Neither was he. A greater contrast could scarcely be imagined. When
+Fanny was formally conducted to a seat at the table by the side of young
+Mr. Barlowe, she found herself confronting such a variety of eatables as
+was absolutely bewildering. The first glance that she had at the dishes
+had a stunning effect upon her. Her impression was one of repletion; she
+felt that that glance was by itself equivalent to a hearty meal--a heavy
+meal. She felt inclined to turn her head away.
+
+But a moment afterwards she became alert. Here was food--ample food for
+an amusing letter to Mr. Crisp, and, later, for a chapter in a possible
+novel. She would let nothing escape her notice.
+
+She settled down to observe everything; and her stepmother, sitting
+opposite to her, knew from the twinkle in her eyes, that Thomas's suit
+was hopeless. She had heard that music is the food of love. She was not
+sure of this; but she was convinced that butcher's meat was not. That
+was where she saw that Thomas had made his mistake. He had placed too
+much dependence upon that great ham. He carved that ham with all the
+solemnity that should accompany such a rite, not knowing that he was
+slicing away all his chances of commending himself to Fanny.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+|IT was an interesting experience for Miss Burney, the writer of novels
+and the writer of letters. She had never sat down with such a company.
+They all had their table peculiarities. One uncle took ale for his
+tea, and drained a tankard before eating anything. The other claimed a
+particular cup on account of its capacity, and he held it to his mouth
+with one hand, while he passed a second down the table to Miss Burney,
+only spilling a spoonful or two in effecting the transit. One of the
+aunts refused to eat anything except cake, explaining, in order to
+relieve the anxiety of the company, the details of an acute attack of
+spleen from which she had recently suffered. The spleen and its humours
+formed the subject of a fitful conversation at her end of the table.
+
+But it was plain that everyone understood that the company had not come
+to the table for conversation, but for food. They did not converse,
+but that was not the same as saying the room was silent. There was a
+constant clanging of cups, a constant clatter of platters, a loud and
+insistent demand on the part of Thomas, the elder, and Thomas, the
+younger, for their guests to say what they would like to eat. This was
+followed by the handing of plates up and down the table, the sound of
+steel knives being sharpened, and the jingle of spoons in saucers. The
+Alderman, who was, of course, an authority on the etiquette of banquets,
+was formulating an elaborate explanation of the mistake that had been
+made in the service of the cold sirloin in advance of the venison pasty;
+and all the time his neighbour was striking the haft of his knife upon
+the table with a request for someone to pass him the pickles.
+
+All the ceremonial veneer had plainly left the company the moment they
+seated themselves, and they addressed themselves to the business of
+feeding. They had healthy appetites--even the lady who had had a recent
+attack of the spleen. She would eat nothing but cake, but she did eat
+cake with confidence. There was no sort of cake that she did not try,
+and her cup was kept in constant circulation from the tea-maker to
+herself--four times she had it refilled, Fanny could not help noticing,
+and she wondered what effect such a diet would have upon her capricious
+spleen. Fanny had an inward hint or two that she had observed quite
+enough of the party to serve her purpose, and she began to count the
+moments until she might be able to steal away without offending the
+susceptibilities of her over-hospitable host and hostess. She hoped that
+her stepmother would listen to her plea of weariness and take her back
+to St. Martin's Street--to the music of St. Martin's Street--to the
+quiet of St. Martin's Street.
+
+The most solid hour of her life had, however, to elapse before her
+fellow-guests pushed their plates (empty) away from them, and Mrs.
+Barlowe said:
+
+“I am afraid you have made a poor tea, Miss Burney; but if you cannot be
+persuaded to have a slice of ham--my son's ham, I call it, for 'tis he
+who picks it out of the curer's stock whenever we have a party--if you
+still refuse it, we might go to the drawing-room.”
+
+Fanny was on her feet in an instant. But not sooner than Alderman
+Kensit. That gentleman, rapping with the haft of his knife on the table,
+stood with a sheaf of notes in his hand and clearing his throat with
+great deliberation, started upon a speech in eulogy of Mr. Barlowe's
+merits as a host and as a merchant, and droned away for a good
+half-hour in praise of the virtue of hospitality, his text being on
+the possibility of entertaining angels unawares. Of course, it was only
+natural that, having got upon this track and with the word “angels”
+ in his mind, he should go on to say that it was quite possible for a
+hospitably-inclined person to entertain an angel and be fully cognizant
+of the fact, and so forth: in a speech of well-worn platitudes such a
+suggestion seemed inevitable; and all eyes were directed to poor
+Fanny when it seemed impending. It was a great disappointment to
+everybody--except Fanny and her stepmother--when the orator skipped the
+expected phrases, and went on to describe a business visit which he had
+once made to Spain, apropos of nothing in particular. His account of
+this feat was familiar to all his relations, but they listened to him
+without a murmur, only wondering when he would come to the angel and
+Miss Burney.
+
+He never came to the angel and Miss Burney, for it so happened that he
+had turned over two pages of his notes when he should have only turned
+over one. The omitted platitude was on the first, and he failed to
+notice the absence of a platitudinal sequence in the heads of his
+discourse which he had jotted down during the day.
+
+When he had seated himself, Mr. Barlowe, the elder, got upon his feet,
+but he had no notes, and not being a member of the Common Council, he
+was not a past-master of commonplaces. He was only dull for about five
+minutes instead of half an hour. He had risen with a view to repair his
+relative's omission of that obvious point about entertaining an angel by
+appointment in the shape of Miss Burney, but he lost himself before he
+managed to deliver it; it swam out of his ken with several other points
+the moment he got upon his legs.
+
+Fully recognizing how narrow was the escape she had had, Fanny was
+resolved not to run any further chances. She was looking imploringly
+toward Mrs. Burney, trying to catch that lady's eye, but without
+success, and she was about to walk round the table to her side and to
+beg her to come away, when Mrs. Barlowe moved up to her.
+
+“Miss Burney,” she said, “I am afraid you did not get anything you liked
+at the table: I saw that you scarce ate more than a morsel of cake.”
+
+“I assure you, madam, I had enough,” said Fanny. “Your cake was so tasty
+I had no mind to go away from it in search of other delicacies.”
+
+“I am glad you liked it. I made it with my own hands,” said the hostess.
+“That cake was ever a favourite with Mr. Barlowe and my son. It pleases
+me to know that you and my son have tastes in common. He is a good son,
+is Thomas, though I say it that shouldn't; and he is making his way to
+the front by treading in his father's footsteps. Mr. Barlowe is not a
+Common Councilman, but his father, Thomas's grandfather, was for a year
+Deputy-Master of the Wyre Drawers' Company--his certificate still hangs
+on the wall of the drawing-room. You must see it. Thomas, you will show
+Miss Burney your grandfather's certificate as Deputy-Master.”
+
+“I should like very much to see it,” said Fanny quickly, “but I fear
+that mamma will wish me to accompany her home at once. My sisters are
+alone to-night and they will feel lonely: we promised to return early.”
+
+“I will get Mrs. Burney's permission for you--so good an opportunity
+should not be thrown away,” said Mrs. Barlowe, giving the latter part of
+her sentence an unmistakable inflection as she looked toward her son and
+smiled.
+
+She had gone round the table before Fanny could think of another excuse
+for evading the visit to the drawing-room in the company of Mr. Barlowe,
+the younger.
+
+And Mr. Barlowe, the younger, was still by her side.
+
+“Doesn't Uncle Kensit make a fine speech?” he inquired. “He is always
+ready. I have heard it said that he speaks longer than any Alderman in
+the Council.”
+
+“I can quite believe it,” replied Fanny.
+
+“Tis a wonderful gift,” said he--“to be always ready to say what one is
+expected to say. Though I did think that when he referred to the angels
+he meant to--to--go farther--I mean nearer-nearer home.”
+
+Thomas might himself have gone farther had his mother not returned at
+that moment from her diplomatic errand.
+
+“I have prevailed upon Mrs. Burney to let you stay to see the
+certificate,” said she. “Thomas, you will conduct Miss Burney to the
+drawing-room.”
+
+“I am sure that mamma would wish to see the certificate also,” said
+Fanny. “I will ask her.”
+
+“There is no need, Miss Burney: we shall all join you later,” said Mrs.
+Barlowe.
+
+Poor Fanny saw that there was no use trying to evade the attentions of
+Thomas, and as she walked toward the folding doors by his side she was
+conscious of a silence in the room and of all eyes being turned upon
+her--smiles--such knowing smiles--and a smirk from the young lady. Fanny
+was aware of all, and what she was too short-sighted to see she was able
+to imagine. She was burning at the thought of all those people gazing at
+her in silence. It was the most trying moment of her life.
+
+She passed through the door which Thomas opened for her and closed
+behind her.
+
+“I am glad to have this opportunity, Miss Burney,” said he, when they
+were alone in the big half-lighted room.
+
+“You must hold your grandfather's certificate in high esteem, sir,” said
+she. “I suppose so high a place as he reached is but rarely attained
+by mortals. You will have to guide me to the document: I have very poor
+eyesight, as you must have noticed.”
+
+“It is a great drawback,” said he. “But we will not talk about
+grandfather's certificate just yet, if you please: I have something to
+say to you that will, I hope, interest you even more than that.”
+
+“You surprise me, sir,” said Fanny icily.
+
+“Nay, I hope that you know me well enough not to be surprised by all
+that I have to reveal to you now that the opportunity has been given to
+me. Have you no inkling of what I am about to say, Miss Burney?”
+
+“Not the least, sir. I expected only to see that relic of your
+grandfather's honourable career.”
+
+“What, after meeting Uncle Kensit and Aunt Jelicoe, you do not feel
+interested in their families?” said he, in a tone of genuine surprise.
+
+Fanny looked at him before she spoke, and there certainly was more than
+a note of casual interest in her voice as she said:
+
+“Their families? Oh, I should like above all things to hear about their
+families.”
+
+“I knew that you would,” said he, apparently much relieved. (She
+wondered if the relief that she felt was as apparent as his.) “Yes,
+I felt certain that you would welcome this opportunity of learning
+something about the Kensits and the Jelicoes. They are remarkable
+people, as you cannot have failed to perceive.”
+
+He made a pause---a pause that somehow had an interrogative tendency.
+She felt that he meant it to be filled up by her.
+
+“They are remarkable people--very remarkable,” said she.
+
+“We are very fortunate in all our relations, Miss Burney,” said he with
+great solemnity. “But, of course, Uncle Kensit stands high above them
+all in force of character. A great man indeed is Alderman Kensit--a
+member of the Haberdashers' and Grocers' Companies as well as the City
+Council, and yet quite ready to meet ordinary persons as fellow-men. He
+had heard the name of your friend, Sir Joshua Reynolds, though not the
+name of Dr. Burney, and he was kind enough to say that he would have no
+objection in the world to meet either of these gentlemen. That shows you
+what sort of man he is--his fine, simple nature. 'If Dr. Burney or Sir
+Joshua Reynolds were duly presented to me, I should feel it my duty to
+be civil to him '--those were his exact words.”
+
+Once more there was an interrogative pause.
+
+“Perhaps they may be fortunate enough to meet him some day,” was all
+Fanny could trust herself to say.
+
+“I would not say so much to them--he is very busy just now,” said Thomas
+hastily. “It would have to be arranged with care and thought--I would
+not like them to be disappointed. But if it would please you, I daresay
+a meeting could be brought about; meantime, I would not raise up any
+false hopes on the matter, if I were you.”
+
+“You may depend on my preserving the strictest secrecy, Mr. Barlowe,”
+ said Fanny. “I should think that I might even discipline myself to
+forget that such a person as Alderman Kensit existed.”
+
+“That would perhaps be the safest course to pursue,” said he
+thoughtfully, and with an air of prudence that made him for the moment
+the subject of a description after Fanny's own heart. She felt that
+she could fool this young man as easily as her brother had fooled him.
+Surely he was made to be fooled, with his solemn airs and his incapacity
+to distinguish what is worthy from what is pompous.
+
+“Yes,” she continued, “Dr. Burney has had it intimated to him since the
+publication of his 'History' that the King was desirous of talking to
+him at Windsor, and I know that Sir Joshua is being visited daily by
+the Duchess of Devonshire and the Duchess of Ancaster, and it would be
+a great pity if my father were forced to write excusing himself to His
+Majesty on account of having to meet Alderman--Alderman--I protest that
+I have already forgotten the gentleman's name--nay, do not tell it to
+me; I might be tempted to boast of having met him, and if I did so in
+Sir Joshua's presence, his beautiful Duchesses would be forlorn when
+they found that he had hurried away on the chance of meeting the
+Alderman. And now, sir, I think that I shall return to Mrs. Burney.”
+
+“But I have not told you half of what I can tell about our family,” he
+cried. “I have said nothing about my aunts--I have four aunts and eleven
+cousins. You would surely like to hear of my cousins. They do not
+all live in London. I have three as far away as Lewes; their name is
+Johnson. My mother's youngest sister married a Johnson, as you may have
+heard. I believe that some objection was raised to the match at first,
+but it turned out quite satisfactory.”
+
+“It is pleasant to know that; and so, sir, as we have come to this
+point, don't you think that we had better adjourn our conference?” said
+Fanny. “It would be doing the Johnson family a grave injustice were you
+to attempt to describe their virtues within the time that is left to
+us, and that would be the greatest catastrophe of all. Besides, I came
+hither all unprepared for these revelations. If you had hinted at
+what was in store for me I would, of course, have disciplined
+myself--forewarned is forearmed, you know.”
+
+Miss Burney had received many a lesson from Mr. Garrick, from the days
+when he had come to entertain her in the nursery, in the art of fooling,
+and she was now quite capable of holding her own when she found herself
+in the presence of so foolable a person as this egregious young man. But
+the game was apt to become wearisome at the close of an evening when
+she had suffered much, and when the subject of her raillery had shown
+himself to be incapable even of suspecting her of practising on him.
+
+“But there is Aunt Jelicoe; I should like to tell you something of Aunt
+Jelicoe,” pleaded Thomas. “Without any of the advantages of her parents,
+Aunt Jelicoe--and--oh, I have something more to say to you--not about
+them--about ourselves--you and me--I was nearly forgetting--you will
+stay----”
+
+“One cannot remember everything, Mr. Barlowe,” said Fanny, with her
+hand on the knob of the door. “You have done very well, I think, in
+remembering so much as you have told me. As for ourselves--you have
+quite convinced me of my own insignificance--and yours also, sir. You
+would be doing us a grave injustice were you to speak of us so soon
+after your estimable relations.”
+
+“Perhaps you are right,” said he, after a few moments of frowning
+thought. “Yes. I see now that it might have been wiser if I had begun
+with ourselves and then----”
+
+Fanny had turned the handle. She re-entered the dining-room, and the
+moment that she appeared silence fell upon the company, and once again
+she was conscious of many eyes gazing at her and of horrid smiles and a
+smirk. That was another ordeal for the shy little Miss Burney--it was an
+evening of ordeals.
+
+She walked straight across the room to her stepmother.
+
+“I am ready to go away now,” she said. “We have never stayed at any
+house so long when we only came for tea. I am tired to death.”
+
+She took care, of course, that Mrs. Burney only should hear her; and
+Mrs. Burney, being well aware that Fanny was not one to complain unless
+with ample cause, charitably interposed between her and Mrs. Barlowe,
+whom she saw bearing down upon her from the other side of the room.
+
+“Fanny and I will say our good-night to you now, my dear Martha,” she
+said. “You have treated us far too kindly. That must be our excuse for
+staying so long. When people drop in to tea they do not, as a rule, stop
+longer than an hour, as you know. But you overwhelmed us.”
+
+“I was hoping--” began Mrs. Barlowe, trying to get on to Fanny, but by
+the adroitness of Mrs. Burney, not succeeding. “I was hoping--you know
+what I was hoping--we were all hoping--expecting--they were in the
+drawing-room long enough.”
+
+Mrs. Burney gave her a confidential look, which she seemed to interpret
+easily enough. She replied by a confidential nod--the nod of one who
+understands a signal.
+
+“Mum it shall be, then,” she whispered. “Not a word will come from me,
+simply good-night; but we could all have wished--never mind, Thomas will
+tell us all.”
+
+Mrs. Burney allowed her to pass on to Fanny, having obtained her promise
+not to bother the girl--that was how Mrs. Burney framed the promise in
+her own mind--and Mrs. Barlowe kept faith with her, and even persuaded
+Alderman Kensit, who was approaching them slowly with a sheaf of notes
+in his hand, to defer their delivery in the form of a speech until the
+young woman had gone.
+
+And thus the visitors from St. Martin's Street were able to escape going
+through the formality of taking leave of all the party. They shook hands
+only with their host and hostess and their son, curtseying very politely
+to the company of relations.
+
+“They are warm-hearted people, but their weakness for ceremony and the
+like is foolish enough,” said Mrs. Burney to Fanny, when they were safe
+within the hackney carriage.
+
+Fanny laughed.
+
+“Oh, indeed, there is no harm in any of them,” she said. “They may be
+a little foolish in thinking that the Poultry is St. James's Palace or
+Buckingham House. The only one among them who is an arrant fool is the
+son. You saw how his mother made it up that he should lead me into the
+other room?”
+
+“It was maladroitly done indeed. What had he to say to you when he got
+you there, I wonder?”
+
+“He had nothing to say to me except that his uncles were second in all
+the virtues and all the talents to no man in town, and that his aunts
+and cousins--but he did not get so far in his praise of his aunts and
+cousins; I fled. Oh, did you see him cut slices off the ham?”
+
+Fanny laughed quite pleasantly, with a consciousness of having at
+her command the material on which to found a scene that would set her
+sisters shrieking.
+
+“Oh, if Mr. Garrick had but seen him carve that ham!” she cried.
+
+“I wish that Mr. Garrick would give all his attention to his own affairs
+and leave us to manage ours in our own way,” said Mrs. Burney.
+
+“What? Why, what had Mr. Garrick to do with our visit to----”
+
+“'Twas Mr. Garrick who continued his fooling of Mr. Kendal, sending him
+all over the town trying to make matches. He believes that he is under
+a debt of gratitude to Mr. Garrick and your father for the happiness he
+enjoys with his bride.”
+
+“And he suggested that a match might be made between someone in St.
+Martins Street and someone in the Poultry? But how does Mr. Kendal come
+to be acquainted with the Barlowes?”
+
+“His wife was a Johnson before she married her first husband, and the
+Johnsons are closely connected with the Barlowes.”
+
+“Young Mr. Barlowe was just coming to the family history of the Johnsons
+when I interrupted him.”
+
+“Was he coming to any other matter that concerned you more closely,
+think you?”
+
+Fanny laughed again, only much longer this time than before. She had to
+wipe her eyes before she could answer.
+
+“Dear mamma,” she said, “you would laugh as heartily if you had seen him
+when he suddenly recollected that in his eagerness to make me acquainted
+with the glories of the Kensits and the abilities of the Johnsons, he
+had neglected the object of his excursion to that room with my poor
+self, until it was too late.”
+
+“I doubt it,” said Mrs. Burney. “I do not laugh at incidents of that
+sort. I lose patience when I hear of a young man neglecting his chances
+when they are offered to him. But had he ever a chance with you, Fanny?”
+
+“Not the remotest, dear mamma. If he had remembered to speak in time,
+and if he had spoken with all the eloquence of his admirable uncle, the
+Alderman, he would not have succeeded. If Thomas Barlowe were the last
+man in the world I should e'en die an old maid.”
+
+“That is a foolish thing for you to say. You may die an old maid for
+that. But indeed when I saw young Mr. Barlowe in his home, I perceived
+that he was not for you. I could not see you a member of that family,
+worthy though they may be.”
+
+“I think if a girl loves a young man with all her heart she will agree
+to marry him, however worthy may be his family,” said Fanny. “But I am
+not that girl, and young Mr. Barlowe is not that man.”
+
+“I daresay that is how you feel,” said the elder lady. “But you must not
+forget, Fanny, that you are no longer a girl; it is quite time that you
+had a house of your own.”
+
+“That is true, dear mamma, but for the present I am happy in living in
+your house, and I ask for nothing better than to be allowed to stay in
+your service.”
+
+“That is all very well, but----”
+
+“Ah, do not introduce that 'but'--life would be thoroughly happy if it
+were not for its 'buts.' Here we are in Leicester Fields. I feel as if
+I should like a roast apple for supper, to put a pleasant taste in my
+mouth at the close of the longest day I can remember.”
+
+They entered the parlour on the ground floor, and found Lottie and
+Susy roasting apples on the hearth, while Dr. Burney sat in his chair
+reading.
+
+“I did not expect you back so soon,” said Mrs. Burney to her husband.
+
+“I did not mean to return for another hour,” said he, “but Sir Joshua
+left early and brought me with him in his coach. He cut his evening
+short in order to get back to a book which he affirms is the best he has
+read since Fielding.”
+
+“It would have to be a good book to take the attention of Sir Joshua,”
+ said Mrs. Burney. “Did you hear what was its name?”
+
+“It is called 'Evelina,' I believe,” replied Dr. Burney.
+
+“A novel, of course. I remember hearing the name some time ago,” said
+his wife. “'Evelina'; yes, it has a familiar sound. I cannot recollect
+at this moment who it was that mentioned it to me. I believe I told you
+of it at the time, Fanny.”
+
+“I do not remember your telling me that anyone had mentioned it to you;
+but I am nearly sure that that was the name of the novel advertised in
+the _Chronicle_--you read out all about it after breakfast one morning,”
+ said Fanny.
+
+“You are quite right--that was how I got the name in my mind. Now you
+can have your roasted apple, child. But if you are hungry you have only
+yourself to thank for it. Don't bend so over the fire, Susy; your face
+is frightfully fed--so, for that matter, is Lottie's. No, thanks, you
+need not roast one for me.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+|SOME weeks had passed since Cousin Edward had brought his exhilarating
+news that the book was being asked for at the libraries, and during this
+interval, Fanny had heard nothing of its progress. She had applied in
+the name of Mr. Grafton for a copy to be addressed to the Orange Coffee
+House, but Mr. Lowndes had paid no attention to her request, Edward
+found out on going to the Coffee House, so it seemed plain to Fanny that
+the book was not making the stir in the world that her cousin's report
+from the libraries had attributed to it. But here was a distinct proof
+that it had at last reached their own circle, and somehow Fanny and her
+sisters felt that this meant fame. Somehow they had come to think of
+the readers of the book as being very remote from them--people whom they
+were never likely to meet; they had never thought of the possibility of
+its being named under their own roof by anyone not in the secret of its
+authorship. But now the strange thing had come to pass: it was not
+only named by their father, but named with the most extraordinary
+recommendation that it could receive!
+
+What! Sir Joshua was not only reading it, but he had curtailed his stay
+at the club in order to get home to continue it! Sir Joshua had actually
+been content to forsake the society of his brilliant friends, every one
+of them more or less notable in the world, in order that he might read
+the story which Fanny Burney had written all out of her own head!
+
+The idea was simply astounding to the girls and to Fanny herself as
+well. It meant fame, they were assured, and they were right. It took
+such a hold upon Susy and Lottie as prevented them from giving any
+attention to Fanny's amusing account of the evening at the Barlowes';
+and the fun she made--modelled on Mr. Garrick's best nursery style--of
+the Alderman and Mrs. Alderman, with the speeches of the one and the
+St. Giles's curtsies of the other, went for quite as little as did her
+imitation of the bobbing of the crown feathers of the aunts and the
+rustling of their dresses, the material of which was too expensive to
+be manageable: the thick silk was, Fanny said, like a valuable horse,
+impatient of control. She showed how it stood round them in massive
+folds when they curtsied, refusing to respond to the many kicks they
+dealt it to keep it in its place.
+
+From the recalcitrant silks--with illustrations--Fanny had gone to the
+slicing of the ham, the hacking at the great sirloin, the clatter of the
+teacups, and the never-ending passing of plates and pickles, of mustard
+and pepper and salt--the things were moving round the table as the
+planets were shown circling round the sun in the clever invention called
+the Orrery, after one of the titles of the Earl of Cork--only the noise
+made by the perpetual handing on of the things did not suggest the music
+of the spheres, Fanny said.
+
+Her descriptions, bright though they were and full of apt metaphors,
+went for nothing. Her sisters were too full of that wonderful thing
+which had happened--the great Sir Joshua Reynolds, President of the
+Royal Academy, the painter of all the most beautiful duchesses that
+were in the world, to say nothing of beautiful ladies of less exalted
+rank--this great man, who was so busy conferring immortality upon
+duchesses that he was compelled to keep in his painting-room on Sundays
+as well as every other day, and who had never been known to suspend
+his work except upon the occasion of the death of his dear friend Dr.
+Goldsmith--this man was actually at that very moment sitting in his
+arm-chair eagerly reading the words which their sister Fanny had
+written!
+
+The thought was too wonderful for them. The effect that it had on them
+was to make them feel that they had two sisters in Fanny, the one a
+pleasant, homely, hem-stitching girl, who could dance the Nancy Dawson
+jig for them and take off all the people whom she met and thought worth
+taking off; the other a grave authoress, capable of writing books that
+great men forsook the society of other great men to read!
+
+They looked on her now with something of awe in their eyes, and it was
+this lens of awe which, while magnifying her work as a writer where it
+came into their focus, made them fail to appreciate her fun, for they
+saw it, as it were, through the edges of the lens and not through the
+centre.
+
+She quickly perceived the lack of sympathy of her audience.
+
+“What is the matter with you both to-night?” she cried--they were now
+upstairs in her room, and she knew that at the same moment Mrs. Burney
+was giving her husband an account of the party. “What is the matter
+with you both? Has anything happened when I was away to put you out? Why
+don't you laugh as usual? I am sure I never told you anything half so
+funny as this, and I was thinking all the way coming home that it would
+make you roar, and now you sit gravely looking at me and not taking in
+half I say. Pray, what is the matter?”
+
+“Nothing is the matter, dear,” said Lottie. “Nothing--only I can't help
+thinking that Sir Joshua is at this moment sitting eagerly reading the
+book that you wrote--you, sister Fanny, that no one who comes to us
+notices particularly. I can hardly bring myself to believe that there is
+only one Fanny.”
+
+Fanny looked at her strangely for some moments, and then said:
+
+“I do not blame you, dear; for I am myself of the same way of thinking:
+I cannot realize what the padre told us. I cannot think of myself as the
+Fanny Burney whose book is keeping Sir Joshua out of his bed. That is
+why I kept on harping like a fool on the single string of that odious
+party. I feel that I must keep on talking, lest my poor brain should
+give way when I sit down to think if I am really Fanny Burney, who was
+ever happiest sitting unnoticed in a corner when people came to this
+house, or laughing with you all up here. I cannot think how it would
+be possible for me to write a book that could be read by such as Sir
+Joshua.”
+
+“Better think nothing more about it,” said Susy, who fancied she saw
+a strange look in Fanny's eyes. “What's the good of brooding over the
+matter? There's nothing strange about Sir Joshua's reading the book:
+I read it and I told you that it was so lovely everybody would want to
+read it. Besides, Sir Joshua may only have mentioned it for want of a
+better excuse to leave the club early; so you may not be so famous after
+all, Fanny.”
+
+Susy's well-meant attempt to restore her threatened equilibrium was
+too much for Fanny. But there was a considerable interval before her
+laughter came. She put an arm about Susy, saying:
+
+“You have spoken the truth, my dear sister. I have no right to give
+myself airs until we find out exactly how we stand. But if Fanny Burney,
+the dunce, should find out to-morrow that Sir Joshua has not really
+been kept out of his bed in order to read 'Evelina' by Fanny Burney, the
+writer, the first Fanny will feel dreadfully mortified.”
+
+“One thing I can promise you,” said Susy, “and this is that Susannah
+Burney will not be kept out of her bed any longer talking to Fanny
+Burney about Fanny Burney's novel, whether Fanny Burney be mortified
+or not. We shall know all about the matter when we go to the Reynolds's
+to-morrow. In the meantime, I hope to have some hours of sleep, though
+I daresay that Fanny Burney will lie awake as a proper authoress should
+do, thinking over the exciting party in the Poultry and wondering how
+she will work in a description of it in her next novel. Good-night, and
+pleasant dreams! Come along, Lottie.”
+
+And Fanny Burney did just what her sister had predicted she would do.
+She recalled some of the incidents of the tea-party in the Poultry,
+having before her, not as she had in the hackney coach, the possibility
+of describing them in a letter to Mr. Crisp, but of introducing them
+into a new book.
+
+Before she slept she had made up her mind to begin a new book; for she
+now found it comparatively easy to believe that Sir Joshua was reading
+“Evelina” with great interest. At any rate, she would hear the next day
+when she should go to the Reynolds's, whether Sir Joshua had read it,
+or whether he had only made it an excuse for getting home early in the
+night, so that he might arise early and refreshed to resume his painting
+of the duchesses.
+
+But the next evening, when, with her sisters and their stepmother she
+tripped along the hundred yards or so of Leicester Fields that lay
+between their house and that of Sir Joshua Reynolds, all thoughts of
+the book which she had written and of the book which she meant to write,
+vanished the moment that she was close enough to Sir Joshua's to hear,
+with any measure of clearness, the nature of the singing, the sound of
+which fell gently upon her ears.
+
+“H'sh!” said Mrs. Burney, stopping a few feet from the door. “H'sh! some
+one is singing. I did not know that it was to be a musical party.”
+
+“It is Signor Rauzzini,” said Lottie. “I would know his voice anywhere.
+We are lucky. There is no one who can sing like Signor Rauzzini.”
+
+“We should have come earlier,” said Mrs. Burney. “But when Miss Reynolds
+asked us she did not say a word about Rauzzini. And now we cannot ring
+the bell, lest we should interrupt his song.”
+
+She stood there with the three girls, under the lighted windows of the
+house, listening to the silvery notes of the young Roman that floated
+over their heads, as if an angel were hovering there, filling their
+ears with celestial music. (The simile was Susy's.) The music sounded
+celestial to the ears of at least another of the group besides Susy; and
+that one thought:
+
+“How can anyone trouble oneself with such insignificant matters as the
+writing of books or the reading of books, when such a voice as that is
+within hearing?”
+
+And then, all at once, she was conscious of the merging of the two
+Fanny Burneys into one, and of the existence of a new Fanny Burney
+altogether--the Fanny Burney who was beloved by the celestial singer,
+and this was certainly the most wonderful of the three.
+
+The thought thrilled her, and she knew that with it the truth of life
+had come to her: there was nothing worth anything in the world save only
+loving and being loved.
+
+And this truth remained with her when the song had come to an end,
+soaring to a high note and dwelling on it for an enraptured space and
+then dying away, so gradually that a listener scarcely knew when it had
+ceased.
+
+Fanny's imagination enabled her to hear, at the close, the drawing-in of
+the breath of the people in the room where the song had been sung: she
+knew that up to this point they had been listening breathlessly to
+every note. She could hear the same soft inspiration--it sounded like
+a sigh--by her sisters and their stepmother. A dozen wayfarers through
+Leicester Fields had been attracted to-the house by the sound of the
+singing, and now stood timidly about the doorway. They also had been
+breathless. One woman murmured “Beautiful!” Fanny could understand
+how the word had sprung to her lips, but what could the man mean, who,
+almost at the same moment, said:
+
+“Oh, my God! how could I have been so great a fool?”
+
+She was startled, and glanced at him. He was a young man, shabbily
+dressed, and on his face there were signs of dissipation. He was
+unconscious of her glance for some moments, then with a slight start he
+seemed to recover himself. He took off his hat with a respectful bow,
+and then hurried away. But Fanny saw him turn when he had gone about a
+dozen yards into the roadway, and take off his hat once more, with his
+eyes looking up to the lighted windows of the house. He was saluting the
+singer whom he had not seen, and to Fanny the act, following the words
+which he had unwittingly uttered, was infinitely pathetic.
+
+It appeared that Mrs. Burney herself received the same impression. Fanny
+was surprised to hear her say:
+
+“Poor fellow! he was once a gentleman!”
+
+Then they entered Sir Joshua's house and were shown upstairs to the
+great painting-room, where Sir Joshua and his sister Frances were
+receiving their guests.
+
+It was quite a small party--not more than a score of people altogether,
+and all seemed to be acquainted with one another. Fanny knew several of
+them; one girl, however, she had never seen before, but she knew who
+she was in a moment. She was standing at one end of the room chatting to
+Mrs. Sheridan, and on the wall just above her there hung the picture of
+a girl in oriental costume and wearing a turban. Fanny Burney had often
+looked at it in admiration, and Sir Joshua had encouraged her, affirming
+that it was the best picture he had ever painted and that it would
+remain in his painting-room until the day of his death. She looked at
+it now with renewed interest, for the original was the girl standing
+beneath it--the beautiful Miss Homeck whom Oliver Goldsmith had called
+the Jessamy Bride. Several years had passed since Sir Joshua had painted
+that portrait, from which Miss Burney had recognized the original; and
+fifty years later another lady recognized the same face, still beautiful
+in old age, from having seen merely a print of the same picture.
+
+When Fanny turned her eyes from the portrait it was to admire the
+features of Mrs. Sheridan. Mrs. Sheridan was gazing somewhat pensively
+at the picture of St. Cecilia which was hanging a little way from that
+of Miss Horneck, and Fanny was near enough to her to perceive how her
+expression grew into that of the face in the picture. At first sight, it
+did not appear to Fanny that the two faces were the same, and it seemed
+as if Mrs. Sheridan perceived this, and determined to vindicate Sir
+Joshua's skill by assuming the pose of the picture. But Miss Burney knew
+that the beautiful lady had done it unconsciously--that it was simply
+because she was recalling the days when she had sat for the painter, and
+had obeyed his injunction to lose herself among the simple chords of the
+aria that was sacred to her since her sister died with the strain upon
+her lips--“I know that my Redeemer liveth.”
+
+Fanny gazed at the exquisite face, illuminated with what seemed to her
+to be a divine light, and for the first time she knew something of what
+it was to be a great painter. After “St. Cecilia” the other portraits on
+the walls seemed paltry. There was no divine light in the faces of the
+duchesses. There was life in them; they breathed and smiled and posed
+and looked gracious, but looking at them one remained on earth and among
+mortals. But St. Cecilia carried one into the glorious company of the
+immortals. “She drew an angel down,” was the line that flashed through
+Miss Burney's mind at that moment. An angel? A whole celestial company.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+|YOU are looking at her--I, too, have been looking at her; she is
+divine,” came a voice beside her. She did not need to turn to see the
+speaker. She had been longing for the sound of his voice for many days.
+She had not even a chance of hearing him sing before this evening.
+
+“She is St. Cecilia herself,” said she. “You have seen Sir Joshua's
+picture?”
+
+“My countryman, Piozzi, pointed it out to me,” he replied. “I was
+enraptured with the picture. But when the living St. Cecilia entered the
+room and I heard her story, I felt ready to throw myself at her feet and
+implore her as the guardian of poor singers to take me to her care. Her
+face has on it the bloom of a flower dropped fresh from the garden of
+God--angelic beyond the voice of man to describe.”
+
+He spoke, as usual, in French to Fanny, but he had greeted Mrs. Burney
+in English, and he tried to translate his last phrase to her into the
+same language. He failed after the first word or two, and begged Miss
+Burney to complete his task for him. She did so, and her stepmother
+smiled and nodded in appreciation of his comment.
+
+“She is indeed a beautiful creature,” said Mrs. Burney. “I heard her
+sing more than once at Bath. People went mad about her beauty and her
+singing, and truly I never heard any singing that so affected me. It was
+said that she hated to let her voice be heard in public. Her father,
+Mr. Linley, made her sing: she was a gold mine to Mr. Linley and he knew
+it.”
+
+Signor Rauzzini had listened attentively and picked up all that she had
+said without the aid of a word from Fanny.
+
+“But now she will never be heard again no more,” said he in English.
+“And she is right in making such a resolution, and her husband is a
+noble man to agree with her in this,” he continued, but in French to
+Fanny. “Picture that lovely creature placing herself on the level of
+such a one as the Agujari! sordid--vulgar--worldly! quarrelling daily
+with the _impresario_ on some miserable question of precedence---holding
+out for the largest salary--turning a gift which should be divine into
+gold! Oh; she was right.”
+
+“Signor Rauzzini no doubt thinks it a pity that such a voice should
+cease to give pleasure to the thousands it enchanted,” said Mrs. Burney,
+not being able to follow him in French.
+
+“Oh, no, no; just the opposite,” cried Fanny. “He says he admires her
+the more for her resolution.”
+
+“I am so glad. Pray tell him that I agree with him,” said Mrs. Burney.
+“A good woman will avoid publicity. Her home should be sufficient for
+her.”
+
+Fanny did not need to translate the words, he grasped their meaning at
+once.
+
+“I agree with all of my heart, madame,” he cried. “I would not wish my
+mother or my sister to have their names spoken with freedom by
+everyone who paid a coin to hear them sing. I should think it--_come
+si chiamo?_--Ah! forgive my poor English.” He went off into French once
+more--“Pray tell madame that I think it would be odious to hear the name
+of my mother or my sister tossed from man to man as they toss the name
+of a woman who comes before the public. I think the woman who would hide
+herself from all eyes as a violet hides itself under a leaf is the true
+woman. The shy, timid, retiring one--I know her--I esteem her. I could
+love no other. I have a deep respect for the woman of the Orient who
+would die sooner than let her face be seen by a man.”
+
+“What does he say--I like his eagerness?” asked Mrs. Burney.
+
+Fanny translated some of his phrases, and Mrs. Burney nodded and smiled
+her approval.
+
+“The bloom on the wing of a butterfly is a very tender thing,” resumed
+the Roman; “the breath of a man is sufficient to remove it--a single
+breath--and when the bloom has gone the charm of the beautiful creature
+has gone also.”
+
+“I am not sure that I like the comparison to the butterfly,” said Fanny,
+smiling. “The butterfly is the emblem of all that is fickle--all that
+is idle except for its yielding to its fickleness. It is beautiful, but
+nothing else.”
+
+He laughed.
+
+“I am rebuked,” he said. “But with us the butterfly is the symbol of the
+life--of the soul. Assume that and you will, I think, see that I meant
+not to hint at the beauty of the frivolity, but at the beauty of the
+soul. I feel that a woman's life has on it the bloom of a butterfly's
+wing, and if that is once breathed on, its beauty is gone for ever--the
+woman's life is never again what it was--what it was meant to be. But
+if you wish, I will not go beyond the violet as my emblem of the best
+woman--my woman.”
+
+“I thank heaven that I have no voice,” said Fanny gently, after a
+pause. Young Mr. North-cote, Sir Joshua's pupil, had approached Mrs.
+Burney--his eye was on Susy--in order to tell her that tea was being
+served in the drawing-room.
+
+Mrs. Burney thanked him and took the arm that he offered.
+
+“We shall all go in together,” said Mrs. Burney, with a sign to Fanny.
+
+But Rauzzini contrived to evade her eye by renewing his admiration of
+the “St. Cecilia.”
+
+“If I could but reproduce in song the effect that flows from her face I
+should be the greatest singer in the world,” said he.
+
+“You need not envy her,” said Fanny. “Do you remember Mr. Handel's
+setting of 'Alexander's Feast '?”
+
+“Only an aria or two.”
+
+“One of the lines came into my mind just now when I looked at that
+picture. 'She drew an angel down.'”
+
+“And it was very apt. She would draw an angel down.”
+
+“Yes; but the poet has another line before that one--it refers to a
+singer--'He raised a mortal to the skies.' That was the line which came
+to my mind when I heard you sing. You raise mortals to the skies. Your
+power is equal to that of St. Cecilia.”
+
+“Nay, nay; that is what you have done. I have been uplifted to the
+highest heaven by you. When you are near me I cannot see anything of the
+world. Why have we not met more frequently? Ah, I forget--I am always
+forgetting that the months you spoke of have not yet run out. But I am
+not impatient, knowing that the prize will come to me in good time.
+I have been away at the Bath and Salisbury and Bristol and I know not
+where, singing, singing, singing, and now I go to Paris and Lyon for a
+few months, but you may be certain that I shall return to England--then
+the separating months shall have passed and you will welcome me--is not
+that so?”
+
+“I think I can promise you--every day seems to make it more certain that
+I shall welcome you.”
+
+“My angel--my dream!----”
+
+He said the words--both long-drawn monosyllables in French--in a whisper
+that gave them the full force of passionate expression. He had need to
+whisper, for several people were in the room, and Mr. Boswell was among
+the number, and everyone knew that Mr. Boswell, as a gossip-monger, had
+no equal in town. He was always pimping and prying--nosing out germs
+of scandal--ever ready to make mischief by telling people all the
+nasty things other people had said of them. Mr. Boswell had his eye on
+them--and his ear. In addition, Mrs. Thrale, who had arrived late, had
+no idea of allowing the handsome Roman singer to waste himself with a
+nonentity like Miss Burney, and she was now perilously close to him whom
+she came to rescue.
+
+But the whisper and the expression imparted to it were enough for Fanny
+Burney. He might have talked for hours in his impassioned way without
+achieving the effect of his whispered exclamations.
+
+Then Mrs. Thrale hastened up to his side full of her resolution to
+rescue him from the conversation with the insignificant person whom his
+good nature suffered to engage his attention.
+
+“Why, what is this?” cried the little lady who regarded herself with
+complacency as the soul of tact. “Have you explained to Signor Rauzzini
+that you are the unmusical member of the family, Miss Burney?”
+
+“I believe that he is aware of that fact already, madam,” replied Fanny.
+
+“And yet he is in close converse with you? He is the most good-natured
+man in town,” said Mrs. Thrale. “Does he hope to interest you when your
+father failed?”
+
+“He has never ceased, to interest me, madam,” said Fanny.
+
+“Then he did not talk about music?”
+
+“Oh, yes; I think he said something about music.”
+
+“Yes, touching a note here and there, as one might in passing a
+harpsichord. Of course you could not have lived in Dr. Burney's house
+without being able to understand something of music. But we must not
+trespass upon Signor Rauzzin's courtesy, Miss Burney. Everyone is
+talking of him in the drawing-room--he must gratify the company by
+mingling with them.”
+
+Then she addressed Rauzzini in French.
+
+“I promised to go in search of you, signor,” she said. “Madame Reynolds
+is distracted. I came on my mission famished--I had vowed, as the
+crusaders did, not to taste food or drink until I had succeeded in
+my emprise. May I ask you to have pity on me now and lead me to the
+tea-table?”
+
+He turned to ask Fanny to accompany them, but he found that she had
+slipped quietly away. She was already at the door.
+
+“My duty was to Miss Burney, madame, but she has been frightened away,”
+ said he.
+
+“Oh, she is the shy one of the family, I believe,” said Mrs. Thrale. “I
+am sure that all the time you were so good-natured as to talk to her
+she was wishing that the floor would open and allow her to sink out of
+sight. She would have thought it much more good-natured on your part
+if you had taken no notice of her. I have scarcely spoken to her half a
+dozen times myself, though I have frequently been to her father's house.
+I cannot rack my brain to discover a congenial topic with such young
+people. Were you successful, do you think?”
+
+He made a gesture with his hands that might mean anything. Mrs. Thrale
+assumed that it meant nothing--that he felt he was not greatly concerned
+whether he had been successful in finding a congenial topic of converse
+with Miss Burney or not.
+
+She laughed.
+
+“Poor girl!” she said. “She may have her dreams like other girls.”
+
+“I believe she has--poor girl!” said he. “But I know that in her
+knowledge of music she goes deeper--soars higher than most young ladies
+who have submitted to lessons from a _maestro_--nay, higher than the
+_maestro_ himself.”
+
+Mrs. Thrale looked doubtfully at him.
+
+“Is it possible that we are talking of two different people?” said she.
+
+“Ah, that is quite possible,” said he.
+
+“I was referring to Miss Burney, the one of the family who does nothing
+except sew--her mother commends her sewing very highly. I fear that you
+actually believed that you were in converse with one of her sisters.”
+
+“Madame,” said he, “it is my belief that the one who sews in a family is
+far more interesting than the one who sings. But Miss Burney need not,
+in my eyes, be any more than Miss Burney to be interesting, though she
+has taught me more of music than I ever learned before.”
+
+“Is't possible? Oh, yes: I should remember that her father told me that
+she was his amanuensis--she made a neat copy of all his notes for the
+'History of Music.' It is no wonder that she knows something about
+it. Such a good daughter! And the father took no trouble about her
+education. She did not know her letters till she was eight or nine, I
+believe--perhaps twelve. I don't believe that I ever exchanged half a
+dozen words with her before this evening; and as for men--you are the
+first man I ever saw taking any notice of her.”
+
+His face lit up strangely, Mrs. Thrale thought, at this revelation. He
+gave a laugh.
+
+“So much the better for her--so much the worse for the men,” said he.
+“And now, madame, if the tea has not become too strong, and if your
+hunger has not made you too weak to walk to the table, I should esteem
+it an honour to conduct you thither.”
+
+Mrs. Thrale smiled her acquiescence, and she entered the drawing-room on
+the arm of the singer. Nothing could have convinced her that he did not
+feel grateful to her for rescuing him from the position in which his
+good nature had placed him--by the side of the most insignificant young
+woman among all Sir Joshua's guests.
+
+She believed that she was increasing his debt of gratitude to her by
+keeping him with her for the next half-hour. Her sense of protecting him
+gave her naturally a sense of patronage, which was quite pleasant for
+her to experience, especially when she glanced round the room and saw
+several ladies of higher rank than she could pretend to, frowning in her
+direction. She knew how Signor Rauzzini was pestered by the attentions
+of such as these, and she could almost hear the well-bred sneers of
+her friends as they glanced at her and wondered if she never meant to
+release the unfortunate young man--she knew just what they would say,
+and she accepted their imaginary words as a real compliment to
+her protective powers. Her smile down the table was one of great
+complacency.
+
+She also noticed that the insignificant Miss Burney was glowing as she
+had never seen her glow before. Her face was rosy and her eyes were
+actually sparkling. Mrs. Thrale had never imagined that such eyes as
+Miss Burney's could sparkle, no matter what their provocation might be.
+
+“Poor girl! Poor child! Her head is turned, as I feared it would be
+when I saw the Rauzzini with her. She is the unhappy victim of his good
+nature.”
+
+This was the conclusion come to by the little lady whose ability to
+pronounce an opinion on such a matter was widely acknowledged; and
+coming to such a conclusion, she naturally commended all the more
+heartily the step which she had taken for separating the foolish girl
+and the fascinating young man.
+
+She would have waved aside any suggestion that might be made to her to
+the effect that the increase in Miss Burney's colouring and the light in
+her eyes was due to Miss Burney's overhearing the conversation between
+her mother and Sir Joshua respecting a book which he had stayed up all
+night to read and which he had just finished in time to receive his
+guests.
+
+The name of the book was “Evelina; or, a Young Lady's Entrance into the
+World,” he said, and he was urging Mrs. Burney to follow his example and
+read it without further delay.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+|FANNY was at her stepmother's elbow while Sir Joshua gave her a full
+account of how he had been induced to send to Lowndes for this wonderful
+book on the recommendation of Mrs. Darner, whose portrait he was
+painting. Mrs. Darner had excused her unpunctuality at one of her
+sittings on the ground that she had become so interested in the fortunes
+of “Evelina” that she could not put the book down.
+
+“Get it for yourself, sir,” she had said, “and you will quickly
+acknowledge that my excuse is valid.”
+
+“Of course I did not get it then,” said Sir Joshua. “I find it
+impossible to keep pace with the useful books that are printed in these
+days, and I have long ago given up novels. But when, the next day, Mrs.
+Darner came to sit to me with a woebegone countenance and the traces of
+tears on her cheeks, so that I could only paint her draping, and that,
+too, had a woeful droop in its folds--for let me tell you, madam, that a
+woman's dress is usually in sympathy with the mood of the wearer--when,
+I say, the lady entered my painting-room in this guise, I ventured to
+inquire if she was serious in her wish that I should depict her in the
+character of Niobe. 'Oh, sir,' she cried, ''tis all due to that horrid
+Branghton--he it is that has brought me to this.' 'The wretch!' said I.
+'Have you no friend who will run him through the vitals? Where is he
+to be found, that I may arrange for his destruction?' 'He is the
+persecutor of my beloved Evelina,' she replied, 'and heaven only knows
+what is to become of the poor girl.'
+
+“Now, madam, when I had thus brought before me the effect that the book
+had produced upon so natural a lady as Mrs. Darner, what was left for
+me but to buy it? And now you see the effect that it has had upon me,”
+ continued Sir Joshua, “so you must e'en buy it also.”
+
+“Nay, Sir Joshua,” said Mrs. Burney, “your case has furnished me with
+the strongest of reasons for not buying it. I would not allow a book
+into my house that would so turn me aside from my ordinary life and my
+daily business. What, sir, would you have me stay out of my comfortable
+bed for hours, in order that I might make myself more uncomfortable
+still by reading of the imaginary woes of a young woman who is nothing
+to me but a shadow?”
+
+“Oh, I promise you that you will find Evelina far from being a shadow,”
+ said Sir Joshua. “She is a creature of flesh and blood, with a heart
+that beats so that you find your own heart keeping time with it, whether
+it pulsates slowly or fast. In short, Evelina lives. I have no patience
+with those attenuated figures that dance on the stage of so many of our
+new novel writers; I can see the stuffing of straw when their constant
+gyrating has worked a rip in their seamy side; creatures of rag and
+wire--they never deceive one for a moment--why, their very gyrations are
+not true to life. But Evelina lives. Some of the characters in the book
+are distasteful--some of them are vulgar, but the world is made up of
+distasteful and vulgar people, and a novel should be true to the world
+in which the characters are placed. Oh, that was where the greatness
+of poor Dr. Goldsmith was to be found. He would abate nothing of the
+vulgarity of the vulgar characters in his plays, because he meant them
+to live. The people hissed his vulgar bailiffs in his _Good-Natured
+Man_, and when Colman cut them out he himself restored them when Shuter
+played the piece for his benefit the following year, and everyone saw
+that they were true to life. The vulgarity of Tony Lumpkin and the Three
+Pigeons made Walpole shudder, but there they remain in the best comedy
+of our time, and there they will remain for ever. Oh, yes; the author of
+'Evelina' knows what life is, and so his book will live.”
+
+“And who is the author of this surprising book?” asked Mrs. Burney.
+
+“That is a mystery,” replied Reynolds. “I sent to Lowndes, the
+bookseller, to inquire, and he pretended that he did not know. He could
+only say that he was a gentleman of note living in Westminster.”
+
+“Ah, that is one of the booksellers' tricks to make their wares seem
+more attractive,” said she. “They know that a man in a mask awakens
+curiosity.”
+
+“That is so; but 'Evelina' stands in need of no advertisement of such a
+nature. It would attract attention even though the name of Mr. Kenrick
+were attached to it. But everyone is dying to find out the name of the
+author; Mrs. Darner believes it to have been written by Horace Walpole,
+but only because 'The Castle of Otranto' was published without his name
+being on the title page.”
+
+“Not a very cogent line of argument, it seems to me,” said Mrs. Burney.
+“Well, Sir Joshua, I hope you will enjoy a comfortable sleep to-night,
+now that you have the fortunes of that young lady off your mind.”
+
+“Oh, my dear madam, I do assure you that my mind is not yet free from
+the effects of reading that book,” cried Reynolds. “I am more faithful
+to my friends in some books than to forget all about them when I lay
+them on the shelf. If they live, be assured that I live with them, and
+the thought of them is to me at times as pleasant as the thought of the
+best friends I have met in my daily life. I have laid 'Evelina' on a
+shelf in my memory--not one of the back shelves, but one that is near
+to me, so that I can console myself with her companionship when I am
+lonely.”
+
+“I have never heard you praise a book so heartily, sir,” said Mrs.
+Burney. “But I will beg of you not to mention it to any of my family,
+for if it has so unhinged you, what would it not do to those poor
+girls?”
+
+He did not catch all she had said, for she spoke in a voice which she
+did not mean to travel to Fanny or Susy, who were chatting to Miss
+Theophila Palmer, Sir Joshua's niece.
+
+“You may depend on my telling them all I find out in regard to the
+author,” said he in a tone of assent.
+
+“No, no,” she cried, getting nearer to the bell of his trumpet. “No, no;
+I want you to refrain from mentioning the book to them. I discourage all
+novel reading, excepting, of course, the works of Mr. Richardson, and
+perhaps one or two of Fielding, with some of the pages gummed together
+to prevent them from being read.”
+
+“Nay, to tempt people to read them,” said Reynolds. “What were we saying
+about the attractions of a mask? Well, my word for it, the attractions
+of a book without a name are as nothing compared with the attraction
+of gummed pages. But you will let them read 'Evelina,' and you will,
+moreover, read it yourself--yes, and you will all be the better and not
+the worse for doing so.”
+
+Mrs. Burney shook her head.
+
+It was no wonder that Mrs. Thrale thought that Miss Burney looked
+flushed at this time, or that there was an unwonted sparkle in her eyes;
+for she had heard nearly every word that Sir Joshua had said, and she
+could scarcely contain herself for delight. For all her primness, she
+was at heart a merry schoolgirl, ready to break into a dance at good
+news, and to shout for joy when things had advanced as she had hoped
+they would. She felt that it was very hard on her that she could not
+throw her hat up to the ceiling of the room, as she had heard of Dr.
+Goldsmith's doing with his wig in the exuberance of his spirits in this
+same room--when Miss Reynolds was in her bed upstairs. It was very hard
+on her to be compelled to restrain her feelings; she was unconscious of
+the sparkle in her eyes, or of the pæony flush of her cheeks that Mrs.
+Thrale had noticed and was still noticing.
+
+She had never felt so happy in all her life. A short time before she had
+felt that everything in the world was insignificant in comparison
+with love; but now she realized that there was another joy worthy of
+recognition. She was not wise enough to perceive that the two emotions
+sprang from the same source--that the foundation of love is the impulse
+to create, and that the foundation of an artist's joy in fame is the
+knowledge that what he has created is recognized by the world. She was
+(fortunately) not wise enough to be able to analyse her feelings--to be
+wise enough to analyse one's feelings is to be incapable of feeling. All
+that she was conscious of at that moment was that all worth having in
+the world was hers--the instinct to create, which men call Love, the joy
+of obtaining recognition for the thing created, which men call Fame.
+
+It was no wonder that Mrs. Thrale saw that light in her face and in her
+eyes; nor was it strange that the same observant lady should attribute
+that illumination to the touch of the fire of the sacred torch. She
+looked at the handsome face of the Roman youth, with its expression of
+frankness, and at his eyes, full of the generous warmth of the South,
+and once more she glanced at Miss Burney, and saw in her face the
+reflection of the southern sunny glow.
+
+“Poor girl--poor girl!” were the words that sprung to her lips. “Only a
+moment's attention from him--only a word--nay, a glance from those
+eyes would have been enough--and she is at his feet. Poor girl!
+Knowing nothing of the world--incapable of understanding anything of
+life--having no gift to attract attention---”
+
+“Dear Mrs. Thrale, I have come to you for help. You are sure to have
+read this book that everyone is talking about--this 'Evelina'--and you
+can, I am certain, tell us who is the author. Pray let us know if your
+friend Dr. Johnson had a finger in it--I have heard that some of the
+writing is in the style of Dr. Johnson--or was it Mr. Anstey--they say
+that some chapters could only have come from the author of 'The Bath
+Guide.'”
+
+It was Lady Hales who had hurried up with her inquiries. She seemed
+to be the representative of a group with whom she had been standing,
+several ladies and two or three men.
+
+It so happened, however, that Mrs. Thrale had not yet read the book
+around which discussion had been buzzing; but she had no intention of
+acknowledging that, with her literary tastes and with her friendship for
+Dr. Johnson, she was behind the times. Two or three people had within
+the week made remarks about “Evelina” in her presence, but she had no
+idea that it was to become a topic of society.
+
+She smiled enigmatically, to give herself time to make up her mind what
+her reply should be--whatever it might be, it certainly would not be a
+confession of ignorance. She came to the conclusion that on the whole
+she could not do better than mould her answer so as to heighten the
+mystery of the authorship.
+
+“Is it possible that none of our friends have discovered the author?”
+ she asked, still smiling shrewdly, so as to suggest that she herself had
+long ago been let into the secret.
+
+“We have had many conjectures,” said Lady Hales. “And let me whisper in
+your ear--there is one among us who is ready to affirm that the address
+of the author is Thrale Hall, Streatham.”
+
+“I vow that I am overwhelmed,” cried the little lady. “The compliment is
+one that any writer might envy. Pray how could it enter the mind of any
+of our friends to connect me with the authorship of such a book?”
+
+“There are some touches of your style in many of the letters of
+Evelina,” replied Lady Hales. “And some have said that only you could
+have had the varied experiences described so vividly.”
+
+“A marvellous book, truly, this 'Evelina,'” cried Mrs. Thrale. “Some
+people, you say, recognize the hand of Dr. Johnson in its pages, others
+the pen that wrote 'The Bath Guide,' and now it is suggested that the
+whole was the work of a humble scribbler named Mrs. Thrale--a person who
+has surely little in common with the two writers you have named.”
+
+She took care that her affectation of surprise had an artificial note
+about it. There was no knowing how things might turn out. Mrs. Thrale
+had no objection in the world to have her name associated with the
+authorship of a book about which it was clear a good many people would
+be talking for some months to come.
+
+“May I not be entrusted with something more definite?” asked Lady Hales
+in a low voice. “If it is a secret for the present--well, you know that
+I am one to be trusted.”
+
+“I can assure you definitely that the book was not written by Dr.
+Johnson,” replied Mrs. Thrale, with a smile. “He has not for a single
+week during the past year failed to visit us at Streatham for at least
+four days at a time. He reads to me all that he writes--it is not
+much--and I can give you an assurance that the name of Evelina has not
+once appeared in his manuscript. I may also say that if you take my
+advice you will not be in too great haste to attribute the book to Mr.
+Anstey.”
+
+This was not mystification, it sounded much more like revelation, Lady
+Hales thought.
+
+“I dare not press you further, madam,” she said.
+
+“Believe me, I can appreciate your reticence, if----”
+
+“Nay, now you suggest that I have told you a secret that I have
+concealed from everyone else, and that is going too far,” cried Mrs.
+Thrale. “Now, dear madam, cannot you see that even if I were in the
+secret of the authorship, I should be guilty of a great breach of
+courtesy were I to reveal it to anyone? If an author choose to remain
+anonymous, is it not discourteous to try to snatch away his--or
+her--veil of anonymity?”
+
+“I can but assent,” said Lady Hales. “I do not doubt that this view of
+the matter is the correct one. At any rate, you may depend on my acting
+in accordance with it. I shall make no further attempt to pry into
+the secret, and I shall think it right to dissuade my friends from the
+quest.”
+
+“In that I am sure you will be acting in accordance with the author's
+wishes,” said Mrs. Thrale, smiling knowingly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+|SO they parted; and Lady Hales hastened back to her friends to whisper
+in their ears that the mystery was as good as solved: Mrs. Thrale had as
+much as acknowledged that she was the author of “Evelina,” but she hoped
+that, as she had written the book without the knowledge of her husband,
+her friends would respect her desire to remain anonymous.
+
+“Mr. Thrale, being a Member of Parliament, would not like to have the
+name of his wife bandied about among ordinary people as that of the
+writer of a novel,” Lady Hales explained, though really no explanation
+was needed of a fact that could be appreciated by every sensible person
+aware of the contemptible character of the novels of the day. “Only Dr.
+Johnson is in the secret,” she continued. “Dr. Johnson, as we all know,
+lives at Thrale Hall for five days out of every week, finding the table
+provided by Mrs. Thrale to suit his palate very much better than that
+controlled by poor blind Mrs. Williams at Bolt Court.”
+
+“That may account for some of the touches in the book in the style of
+Dr. Johnson,” said one of the ladies. “You may be sure that no book
+could be written under the same roof as Dr. Johnson without his having
+something to say to it.”
+
+“I never could understand how so fastidious a lady as Mrs. Thrale could
+tolerate the company of Dr. Johnson at her table, but now the secret is
+out--this secret and t'other,” said one of the gentlemen. “Dr. Johnson
+is not seen at his best at the dinner-table.”
+
+“So far as that goes, neither is Mr. Thrale himself,” said another. “He
+has a huge appetite.”
+
+“I had an inkling all along that Mrs. Thrale wrote the book,” said a
+lady with a huge hat. “I actually remarked to my sister, while I was
+reading it, 'if this story is not written by Mrs. Thrale, Mrs. Thrale is
+the one who would like to have written it.'”
+
+“But mind, not a word must be breathed that would hint that she
+acknowledged it to me by direct word of mouth,” cried Lady Hales,
+beginning to have some qualms. “No; you must understand clearly that she
+did not say in so many words that she wrote it. Indeed, her last words
+to me were, that anyone who should name in public the author of a book
+published anonymously would be guilty of a great discourtesy.”
+
+“She is perfectly right: to do so would be to exhibit very bad taste
+truly,” came more than one acquiescent voice.
+
+And the result of their complete agreement on this point was the
+immediate dissemination of the report that Mrs. Thrale was indeed the
+writer of “Evelina.”
+
+But that clever little lady, on getting rid of the questioner, found
+that Signor Rauzzini had slipped away from her side and was now making
+his adieux to Mrs. Burney and her stepdaughters. She noticed that the
+light had gone out of Fanny Burney's eyes as the young singer bent
+over her hand, and once again she shook her head. She had given more
+attention to Miss Burney during the previous hour than during all the
+years she had visited at St. Martin's Street. She thought that it might
+be her duty to say a word of warning to the young woman, who could not
+possibly know anything about the world or the deceitfulness of Italian
+vocalists.
+
+Meantime, however, she ordered one of her three footmen to tell the
+coachman to drive to the shop of Lowndes, the bookseller, and there she
+purchased a bound copy of “Evelina,” at nine shillings.
+
+Mrs. Thrale was, of course, well known to Mr. Lowndes, and seeing her,
+through the window of his office, enter his shop, he put his quill
+behind his ear and emerged, bowing and smiling.
+
+“How was it that you failed to apprise me that you had printed 'Evelina
+'?” she inquired.
+
+“Is't possible that you did not receive my advertisement, madam?” he
+cried. “Why, I posted it to you with my own hands even before the book
+had left the press, the truth being that I was anxious to get your
+opinion respecting it.”
+
+“I never had any advertisement from you about it,” she replied.
+
+“Oh, I was to blame for not underlining the announcement, madam,” said
+he. “I ask your pardon. How were you to know that it was not one of the
+usual novels of the season?--I do not venture to recommend such to the
+attention of ladies of superior tastes like yourself, madam. I shall not
+forgive myself, rest assured. But I am punished, in that I have been
+unable to sell a second edition by telling my customers how highly it
+was esteemed by Mrs. Thrale.”
+
+“You assume that it would be highly esteemed by me, Mr. Lowndes; but I
+am not quite sure that you do not flatter yourself in believing that my
+judgment would be the same as that of the public. The poor public! How
+can they possibly know whether a book is good or bad?”
+
+“They cannot, madam; that is why we poor booksellers must only trust to
+sell our books on the recommendation of ladies of taste and judgment.
+May I beg, madam, that you will favour me with your opinion respecting
+the merits of 'Evelina'?”
+
+“It has been so great a success that I fear I shall not think highly of
+it. Pray, who is your modest author?”
+
+“Positively, madam, I am unable to tell you. The MS. was brought to me
+with a letter purporting to come from a Mr. Grafton at the Orange Coffee
+House, near the Haymarket, and he desired the secret of its authorship
+to be kept close.”
+
+“Ah, yes; to be sure--kept close from the vulgar public; but he could
+never think that you were violating his confidence by telling me his
+name.”
+
+“He could not be so unreasonable, madam--nay, rather would he kneel
+to you--for he could scarce fail to understand the value that we set
+on----”
+
+“I am not convinced either that he would benefit from the exchange of
+confidence or that I should; but prithee, sir, what is his name?”
+
+“'Fore heaven, madam, I have told you so much as is known by me
+respecting the gentleman. Never before have I been placed in so
+remarkable a position. My fault, Mrs. Thrale, no doubt: I should have
+taken precautions against being thus surprised into publishing a book
+without knowing the name of the author. But although my judgment enabled
+me to perceive that the work was out of the common, yet I never counted
+on its merits being recognized so speedily. May I beg of you to favour
+me with your opinion as to who the writer may be, madam--that is, when
+you have read it, unless, indeed--” he glanced at her shrewdly with
+a little knowing smile-- “unless, indeed, you could so favour me
+_instanter_.”
+
+“Nay, Mr. Lowndes, how would it be possible for me to give you an
+opinion as to the authorship of a book which I have not yet read? I am
+not one of those astute critics who, they say, can tell you all there
+is to be known about a book without cutting the leaves, or even--if you
+slip a guinea into their hand--without opening the covers.”
+
+“I thought that perhaps you might be one of those who have been let into
+the secret, madam. I trust that Dr. Johnson's health has not been so bad
+as to prevent him from doing any literary work. Ah, what does not that
+great man--nay, what does not the world owe to you, Mrs. Thrale?”
+
+“If you would suggest, Mr. Lowndes, that the book about which we have
+been conversing was written, even in part, by Dr. Johnson, I can give
+you an assurance that such is not the case. He is in no way inclined
+to engage in any form of literary labour. He grudges his friends even a
+note.”
+
+“There are some gentlemen who come hither and honour me by conversing
+on the subject of letters, and more than one of them has pointed out
+passages in 'Evelina' that show signs of the great Doctor's pen; but for
+that matter----”
+
+“I agree with you, sir; every scribbler in Grub Street apes the style of
+Dr. Johnson, but only to reveal the ape in himself. Now, Mr. Lowndes,
+if you really are in earnest in saying that you are unaware who is the
+author of your book, I have done you some service in curtailing by one
+the list of authors to whom it might possibly be attributed. You may
+strike out the name of Johnson, sir, on my authority.”
+
+“I shall certainly do so, madam--not that I, for my own part, was ever
+foolish enough to fancy that he had written more of it than a page or
+two. I am indebted to you, Mrs. Thrale.”
+
+“Then if you would wish to pay off the debt, you can do so by informing
+me of your success in discovering the writer. 'Tis quite impossible to
+conceive of the man's remaining unrevealed for any length of time, and I
+confess that I am anxious to know if he is among my acquaintance.”
+
+“You assume the sex, madam.”
+
+“What, have you a doubt of it?”
+
+“There are so many literary ladies nowadays, Mrs. Thrale.”
+
+“But you surely saw the handwriting of the script?”
+
+“That is just the point. My printers have examined it and say that it
+is a lady's caligraphy only disguised to look like a man's. In my own
+judgment they are right. It is an upright hand, neat and clear--not in
+the least like that of an author. Still, that counts but little, seeing
+that the writer of the book would be pretty certain to have a clear copy
+made of his script by someone else. I have had a suspicion, from the
+mystery insisted on by this Mr. Grafton, that he is none other than the
+author of the 'Castle of Otranto.'”
+
+“What, Mr. Walpole?”
+
+“Even so. You recollect how delighted he was to conceal the hand he had
+in that book--going much farther than I thought any gentleman would in
+honour go, to make people believe it was what it pretended to be?”
+
+“Mr. Lowndes, I know not what your experience has been; but mine is
+that when a gentleman becomes an author he lays aside whatever sense of
+honour he possesses as a gentleman.”
+
+“I have had little to do with gentlemen authors, madam. Most of my
+writers are simply authors.”
+
+“And Mr. Walpole very properly put himself in line with them, and so had
+no hesitation in carrying out his fraud in 'Otranto.' Well, if it be so,
+you may count on his revealing himself now that the book has become a
+success. In any case, you will not forget to keep me informed, and I
+shall esteem it a favour, Mr. Lowndes.”
+
+Mr. Lowndes renewed his promise and bowed the lady to the door. The
+three volumes of “Evelina” had been brought out to the chariot by one
+of the footmen, a second following in his footsteps to see that he
+deposited them fairly upon one of the cushions, and a third standing by
+the open door in case of the breakdown of either of the others.
+
+Mrs. Thrale got into the splendid machine, the three lackeys swung
+themselves up on their platform behind, and clung on to the heavy
+straps, looking, in their brilliant livery, as the chariot lurched away
+over the uneven cobble-stones, like mighty butterflies of a tropical
+forest swaying together on the rim of a gigantic flower.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+|NO chance had Rauzzini of saying more than the most conventional words
+of farewell to Fanny. Mrs. Burney was beside her and her two sisters
+also. He yielded to his impulse to pronounce a malediction on Mrs.
+Thrale, who had so interrupted his conversation with Fanny--the last he
+could possibly have until his return from France after fulfilling his
+engagements. But this was when he had seen the Burney family out of
+the door of the house in Leicester Fields and to the entrance to St.
+Martin's Street. He was then alone, and could give in some measure
+expression to his feelings in his own tongue.
+
+His imagination was quite vivid enough to suggest to him all that the
+officiousness of Mrs. Thrale had interrupted--the exchange of vows--the
+whispered assurances of fidelity--perhaps a passionate kiss--a
+heaven-sent chance during a marvellous minute when the painting-room
+should be emptied of all but herself and him! It was distracting to
+think of all that had been cut out of his life by that busybody. While
+he had been talking alone with Fanny his eyes had taken in the splendid
+possibilities of the painting-room. There were three immense easels on
+different parts of the floor, and each carried a glorious canvas for
+a life-size portrait. Two of them were already finished, and the third
+contained a portion of the Greek altar at which a fair lady was to be
+depicted making her oblation to Aphrodite, or perhaps Artemis. The young
+man, however, did not give a thought to the glowing work of the great
+painter on the canvases, he thought only of the possibilities of a
+moment or two spent in the protecting shadow of one of them with that
+gentle, loving girl yielding herself to his clasp--only for a moment--he
+could not reasonably hope that it should be for longer than a single
+moment, but what raptures might not be embraced even within that brief
+space! A moment--one immortal moment worth years of life! That was
+what he saw awaiting him in the friendly shade of one of Sir Joshua's
+portraits--that was all that the sublime picture meant to the ardent
+lover--it was not the immortal picture, but the immortal moment that was
+before his eyes--but just when, by a little manoeuvring on his part, the
+joy that should change all his life and console him for being deprived
+of the society of his beloved for three months, was within his reach,
+that foolish woman had come bustling up with her chatter and had
+separated them!
+
+For which he now implored heaven and a heathen deity or two that still
+linger in the language of malediction in their native Italy, to send
+her soul to the region where Orpheus had sought his Eurydice. Down--down
+with her to the lowest depths of the Inferno he implored his patrons to
+bear her and to keep her there for ever.
+
+His imploration was quite as lyrical as his “Waft her, Angels, to the
+Skies,” only its bearing was upon the fate of the lady in just the
+opposite direction, and he was even more fervent in its delivery. But
+having delivered it, he felt some of that relief which is experienced
+by a true artist who has a consciousness of having done some measure of
+justice to his theme. He felt that if beatitude had been denied to him,
+the one who had separated him from it would not escape scathless, if the
+intensity of an appeal to the high gods of his native land counted for
+anything in their estimation.
+
+And then he went more or less contentedly to his lodgings to prepare for
+his appearance in the opera of the night.
+
+He sang divinely as an angel, and again if any of his audience remained
+unmoved by the enchantment of his voice, they certainly could not but
+have yielded to the charm of his presence. Some women might be incapable
+of appreciating the exquisite character of his vocalism, but none could
+remain impervious to the appeal of his smile.
+
+As for the girl who alone had appealed to his heart, she went home with
+her mother and sisters without a word, for she had not perceived the
+glorious possibilities lurking behind the grand canvases in Sir Joshua's
+painting-room. She could even bring herself to believe that the coming
+of Mrs. Thrale had been rather opportune than otherwise; for if she had
+not joined her stepmother at that time she would not have heard all that
+Sir Joshua had said about “Evelina.”
+
+All that she had heard had made her supremely happy, not, she thought,
+because she was greedy for fame, but because it meant to her that she
+was a step nearer to the arms of the man she loved. The fame which Sir
+Joshua's words implied was dear to her because she knew that she need
+not now hesitate to seat herself by the side of this king of men, as his
+equal--no, not quite as his equal, but certainly not as a beggar maid.
+She knew that when it was announced that she was the writer of a great
+book, or, what was better still, a book that everybody was talking
+about, people would not shrug their shoulders when they heard that
+Rauzzini> the Roman singer, whose name was in everybody's mouth, was
+about to marry her. The event that she scarcely dared hope for had
+actually happened: she was no longer the nobody which she had been, she
+was a woman the product of whose brain had been acclaimed by the best
+judges, and so the barrier that she had seen separating her lover from
+herself had been thrown down. The same voices that had acclaimed her
+Rauzzini as a singer had acclaimed her as a writer; for though she had
+hesitated to receive her cousin Edward's reports from the libraries as
+conclusive of the mark that the book was making, she could not now
+have any doubt on the subject: a book that was spoken of by Sir Joshua
+Reynolds as he had spoken of “Evelina” must be granted a place high
+above the usual volumes to be found on the shelves of a circulating
+library. She was convinced that in a short time everyone would be
+talking about it in the same strain, and though people might be
+incredible on the subject of its authorship, the fact would remain the
+same--she had written the book, and the fame that attached to the writer
+would assuredly be hers. There would now be no sneering references to
+King Cophetua. Everyone within their circle would admit that there
+was no disparity between her position as the writer of the book that
+everyone was talking about and that of the singer whom people crowded to
+hear.
+
+She felt supremely happy. Though Mrs. Burney had not shown any
+particular wish to repeat what Reynolds had said to her about the
+book, she knew perfectly well that this was only because of her general
+distrust of anything in the form of a novel, and her fear lest something
+unreadable should get into the hands of the girls. But Fanny also knew
+that the fact of Mrs. Burney's shunning the novels of the circulating
+libraries would not interfere with the reputation that must accrue to
+the author of “Evelina”; so she was not affected by the indifference
+shown by her stepmother to all that Reynolds had said. She awaited
+without impatience the day when her father should take up the book and
+read the Ode at the beginning. She felt that, although his name was not
+at the head, he would know that the verses were addressed to him, and
+that it was his daughter Fanny who had written them. She knew that
+however firmly he might assert himself on the side of his wife in
+preventing the entrance to the house of all novels excepting those of
+Richardson--Fanny herself had never had a chance of reading even
+“The Vicar of Wakefield”--he would be proud of her as the writer of
+“Evelina.” She was not quite sure if he would be as proud of her as if
+she had developed a wonderful musical capacity; but she never doubted
+that his affection for her--assisted by his knowledge of the impression
+the book had made upon the most important of his own associates--would
+cause him to take her into his arms with delight and to forgive her
+for running the chance of being classed among the Miss Minifies of the
+period--the female writers whose ridiculous productions were hidden
+beneath the sofa cushions in so many households. Fanny Burney was a
+dutiful daughter and she had nothing of the cynic about her, but she was
+well aware of the fact that success would be regarded by her father as
+justifying an experiment that failure would have made discreditable.
+
+Once more, then, the three sisters met that night in Fanny's bedroom.
+The two younger could now look on her without their feeling of awe. They
+were on the verge of being indignant with Mrs. Burney for having made no
+reference whatever since returning from the Reynoldses to the subject of
+Sir Joshua's eulogy.
+
+“Not once did she mention the name of 'Evelina' to the padre; Sir
+Joshua might just as well have talked of Miss Herschel's comet to her,”
+ said Susy.
+
+“And after our schooling ourselves so rigidly to give no sign that we
+were in any measure connected with the book too--it was cruel!” said
+Lottie.
+
+“It was not as if the padre did not give her a good chance more than
+once,” continued Susy. “Did he not ask if anyone had given her any news?
+And what did she answer?--Why, only that someone had said that Mr. Fox
+had lost a fortune a few nights ago at faro! As if anybody cares about
+Mr. Fox! I was prepared for her opening out at once to him about the
+book--maybe begging him to send Williams to buy it at Mr. Lowndes'.”
+
+“What, at seven-and-sixpence!” cried Fanny. “My dear child, do you know
+mamma no better than to fancy that?”
+
+“What I don't know is how she resisted it,” said Lottie. “Oh, you heard
+how Sir Joshua talked about it; and Miss Reynolds too--she praised it up
+to the skies.”
+
+“Other people in the painting-room as well as in the drawing-room were
+talking of it,” said Susy. “I heard the beautiful Miss Horneck speak
+of it to the lady with the big muff and the rose taffeta with the
+forget-me-not embroidery.”
+
+“I am sure that everybody was speaking of it--I could hear the name
+'Evelina' buzzing round the rooms,” cried Lottie.
+
+“Yes; everyone was talking about it, and only mamma was silent--_is_
+silent. I don't think that at all fair,” continued Susy.
+
+Fanny laughed.
+
+“You are silly little geese,” she cried. “Could you not see that she
+would not mention it lest it should reach our ears and we should be
+filled with an _irresistible_ desire to possess it--_it_--a modern
+novel! Think of it! Oh, my dears, you are too unreasonable, Mamma knows
+her duty too well to allow even the name of a novel to pass her lips
+and maybe reach the ears of such a group of fly-away young things as
+ourselves! She understands the extent of her responsibilities. Go to
+your beds and be thankful that you have so excellent a guardian.”
+
+“But when we were prepared----” began one of them, when Fanny
+interrupted her.
+
+“You may conserve your preparations--you will hear her say the name soon
+enough--you may depend upon that,” she said. “You may prepare to hear
+yourselves summoned into her presence to give a full and true account
+of your complicity in the thing which was perpetrated under this sacred
+roof--nay, in the very room where the great philosopher Newton wrote his
+thesis! A novel written in the room in which the divine 'Principia'
+was produced! Why, 'twere as bad in mamma's eyes as acting one of Mr.
+Foote's farces in St. Paul's Cathedral. Oh, yes, you'll have to face her
+soon enough, and after that you'll never wish to hear the name Evelina
+again. Now, good-night, and thank heaven for your respite.”
+
+They left her, glum and dissatisfied. It was plain to her that they were
+disappointed at not being given the opportunity of showing how admirably
+they had themselves under control in regard to the secret--of showing
+Fanny how they could hear Mrs. Burney talk at length about “Evelina,”
+ while neither of them gave the least sign of ever having heard the name
+before. It was indeed disappointing that all their studied immobility
+should go for nothing.
+
+But Fanny knew that their secret could not possibly remain hidden for
+many more days. If the book was going into everybody's hands, her father
+would be certain to have it, and then--would he not know? Would not she
+be summoned into his presence and that of his wife--the lady of many
+responsibilities--and required to defend herself?...
+
+She fell asleep before she had come to any conclusion as to the line of
+defence that she should adopt.
+
+And in spite of the readiness of her sisters for any inquisition to
+which they might be summoned, they were startled--as was also Fanny
+herself--when, immediately after a rather silent and portentous
+breakfast, Mrs. Burney said:
+
+“Susy and Lottie, you may go to your duties. You, Fanny, will remain, as
+your father wishes to speak to you on a matter of some gravity.”
+
+So the long-expected hour had come, the three girls thought. By some
+accident unknown to them their secret was exposed, and Fanny was about
+to be called upon to explain, if she could, to the satisfaction of
+her father and her stepmother, how it came that she so far forgot the
+precepts of her upbringing as to write a novel quite in the modern
+spirit, though adopting a form which the master-touch of Mr. Samuel
+Richardson had hallowed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+|THE two girls left the room slowly, after sending in the direction of
+Fanny a glance which they meant should encourage her--a glance which
+should let her know that they were quite ready to share her punishment,
+should the worst come to the worst.
+
+Fanny replied to them with her eyes; and then prepared for the worst.
+
+It quickly came.
+
+“My dear daughter,” said Dr. Burney, when they were alone, Mrs. Burney
+in her chair at the head of the table. “My dear Fanny, I am no believer
+in leading by degrees up to such a communication as I have to make to
+you. I think that the sooner it is got over the better it will be
+for all whom it may concern. Well, this is it: Mr. Thomas Barlowe has
+written to me asking my permission for him to address you with a view to
+marriage.”
+
+He made a pause, looking at her to observe the effect of this
+revelation.
+
+And what he saw at first was a girl with a pale face and downcast eyes,
+awaiting, almost breathlessly, an accusation from which she shrank; but
+when he had spoken he saw a great change come over her. Not immediately,
+but gradually. It seemed to him that she had not fully realized the
+meaning of his words--that she was puzzled--trying to recall what he had
+said. Then the light seemed to dawn upon her. She flushed, and, after
+a few moments, threw back her head and went into a peal of laughter--a
+real schoolgirl's fit of laughter at something amazingly comic--the
+tumbling of a clown into a pool of water with a splash, or, perhaps, the
+slipping of a dignified beadle upon a butter slide. Her laughter went
+on for a long time, but without in the least suggesting hysteria--it
+was simply a girl's natural laughter on realizing the comic side of a
+situation which grown-up people would regard as extremely serious.
+
+Neither her father nor his wife could understand why she should receive
+in such a spirit an essentially serious communication--the most serious
+that any young woman could receive. They had not before them the
+ludicrous picture that presented itself to her imagination--a picture of
+the Roman Rauzzini on the one side and the Poultry Barlowe on the other,
+asking her to choose between them. It was this presentment, coming in a
+flash the moment she realized that the publishing of the book was not
+the question which she had to face, that forced her to yield to that
+long fit of laughter.
+
+Her father and stepmother sat stolidly by, but she knew that had she and
+her father been alone, he would at least have smiled with her.
+
+In a few minutes she had recovered herself sufficiently to be able to
+apologize for her levity.
+
+“I beg your pardon,” she said. “I am behaving like a goose, but I could
+not help it--something forced me--something that occurred to me--a funny
+thing. I am very sorry.”
+
+“There is nothing funny that I can see in the honourable request made by
+an honest young man, my dear Fanny,” said Mrs. Burney.
+
+“No, no; nothing whatever; only--well, funny ideas will occur to foolish
+people like myself at the most serious moments,” said Fanny.
+
+“That is quite true, indeed,” said her father. “I have myself
+experienced what you say. Perhaps, after all, I should not have blurted
+out what I had to tell you--it came to you as a surprise, I doubt not.”
+
+“A great surprise, indeed,” she replied. “I cannot understand how Mr.
+Barlowe could ever fancy that I--that he--that--oh, I should have known
+what that terrible entertainment was meant to lead to--but when, in that
+clumsily marked way I was sent into the drawing-room with him alone, he
+began to talk of his uncle, the Aider-man--he said that the Alderman was
+quite approachable even in regard to ordinary people like ourselves--and
+then came his cousins--all of them remarkable! But you should have seen
+him slice away at the ham--the biggest ham I ever saw--it needed to
+be--such eating!”
+
+“The recollection of that no doubt made you laugh,” said Dr. Burney.
+“But, at the same time, you must remember that though the customs of
+the Poultry are not ours, still, they may be very reasonable
+customs--perhaps more reasonable than our own. It may suit us to dine as
+late as halfpast four and only to have a slice of cake with our tea; but
+business people find it more convenient to dine at one o'clock--it makes
+an equal division of their long working-day--so that a slice of ham----”
+
+“I know that is quite true, and I was not so foolish as to give myself
+airs because I had dined at half-past four and had no appetite for ham,”
+ said Fanny; “but--oh, mother, you saw how foolishly formal was the whole
+thing.”
+
+“I said that I thought it quite unnecessarily formal,” replied Mrs.
+Burney, “and if I had had any notion that it was going to be like that
+I would certainly have given Mrs. Barlowe a hint. Still, Thomas is, I
+know, an excellent young man who has never given his parents an
+hour's uneasiness, and his intentions are honourable, and so should be
+honoured. If you have no tender regard for him at present that is no
+reason why, when you get accustomed to the thought of him as a suitor
+for your hand----”
+
+“Oh, mother, that is quite impossible!” cried Fanny. “How could I ever
+get accustomed to such a thought?”
+
+“I do not know why you should not,” replied Mrs. Burney. “He is a most
+worthy young man, and Mr. Barlowe's business is one of the best in
+the City. You must remember, my dear Fanny, that in these days a girl,
+unless she has a portion, runs a very great chance of becoming an old
+maid, so that no opportunity of settling down in a comfortable home
+should be neglected.”
+
+“That is perfectly true,” said Dr. Burney. “You will understand that we
+have no desire to force this or any match upon you, my dear child: so
+long as I have a house over my head you shall share it. But I am sure
+that you must know that I am a poor man to-day, although I have worked
+as hard at my profession as any living man, and I cannot provide you or
+your sisters with any portion. Heaven knows that if I had a fortune I
+would gladly divide it among you; but as it is, I think it right to tell
+you that you need expect nothing.”
+
+“Dearest father,” said Fanny, dissolving into tears, as she took his
+hand and kissed it, “I have never expected a fortune from you--not a
+penny piece. I know that I shall be portionless, and I daresay that Mr.
+Barlowe thinks himself generous in his proposal; but I could never bring
+myself to accept him--to look on him as a suitor. It would be quite
+impossible. If I thought it possible that I should ever have any
+affection for him, I might feel myself justified in encouraging him; but
+I know that it would be out of the question. I would prefer to go forth
+and beg my bread--nay, to starve.”
+
+“Then we shall pursue the matter no farther for the present,” said her
+father, kissing her on the forehead as she nestled close to him.
+
+“Yes, that is best--for the present,” acquiesced his wife. “Still, if
+you will be advised by me, my dear Fanny, you will remember that Mr.
+Barlowe is ready to address you knowing that you will be portionless,
+and if you bear that in mind, perhaps you will be surprised to find
+some' day, not so far distant, that the thought of him is not so
+repugnant to you. You are no longer a girl, and when one is midway
+between twenty and thirty every extra year counts in reducing one's
+chances of being settled in life. I could cite dozens of instances that
+I have known of young women being glad to accept at twenty-eight the
+suitors they scorned at twenty or even twenty-five. Oh, yes, the years
+come upon one and bring with them a clearer vision of life and love;
+frequently they bring regret for opportunities neglected. But we will
+not press the matter any farther--just now. I dare say the young man
+will submit to be put off--for a time.”
+
+“Nay, for ever,” said Fanny resolutely.
+
+“Oh, well,” said her stepmother.
+
+After a pause, during which Fanny seemed to be debating some matter
+in her mind, a little line showing itself along her forehead, she said
+slowly: “I do not think that I shall be a burden on you, dear father; I
+believe that one day I may be able to do something.”
+
+“Do not fancy that I would ever think of you as a burden, my dear
+child,” said her father. “But what do you mean by saying that you may
+one day do something?--some work, do you suggest?”
+
+“Something--I am fond of writing,” she murmured.
+
+He laughed gently, saying:
+
+“You are a very good girl, my love, and I know how much I am indebted to
+you for your admirable copying of my notes for the History; but do not
+let the idea take hold of you that such work is well paid. If you ever
+get in touch with a bookseller, he will tell you that the work of a
+copyist is very poorly paid.”
+
+“I was not thinking of copying,” murmured Fanny.
+
+“Of what then, pray?” he asked.
+
+“If I could but write a book,” she replied, with her eyes on the floor.
+
+“A book!” cried Mrs. Burney, who thought that she had been silent long
+enough. “A book!”
+
+“To be sure--to be sure,” said her father, in the indulgent tone of a
+parent humouring a child. “You might write a book--so might anyone who
+could pay for a ream of paper, a bottle of ink and a box of quills.
+You should speak to Mr. Newbery about it: he has printed many nursery
+stories since 'Goody Two Shoes.' You might indeed do something that the
+children would take a fancy to. Well, Francis Newbery is as honest a man
+as his uncle, and we may talk to him about it. By the by, did not you
+once tell me that you had written something, or that you were going to
+write something? You thought it proper to get my leave. I had forgotten
+that. Well, if it be a moral nursery story, we might interest Mr.
+Newbery in it.”
+
+“I do not think that it is quite wise to encourage a girl to neglect
+her useful household duties in order to compile some rubbish that no one
+would read,” said Mrs. Burney.
+
+“Of course you will understand that you are not to neglect your
+household duties, Fanny,” said her father.
+
+“If she performs her household duties and sticks to her needlework,
+she will have no time left for scribbling rubbish,” cried Mrs. Burney,
+hastily.
+
+“She made a bonfire of all that childish nonsense long ago, and I hope
+that she will never be so foolish as to waste good paper and pens and,
+most precious of all, good time, over such exercises. That is all we
+have to say just now, I think--is it not, Doctor? I shall reply to Mr.
+Barlowe's letter--a most creditable letter--straightforward--honourable!
+I am only sorry that I cannot make the reply to it that it deserves.”
+
+She had opened the door and called for William, their manservant, to
+remove the breakfast things. Fanny lingered for a few minutes after she
+had risen from her chair. She had assumed from the moment she had begun
+to speak of writing, that her opportunity had come; if her stepmother
+had not interposed so hastily and so emphatically, she would have made
+her confession as to “Evelina,”, let the consequences be what they
+might; but now that the servant had come with his tray and her
+stepmother jingled her key-basket, she perceived that her chance was
+gone. She had a sense of sneaking out of the room.
+
+As she went slowly up the stairs she could hear the voice of her
+stepmother remonstrating with her father for having said something that
+she, Fanny, might regard as encouragement to waste her precious time in
+the pursuit of such folly as writing a book.
+
+She heard her father's little laugh as he explained (she was sure) that
+of course he had not been speaking seriously; but that he had not the
+heart to be severe upon her and her harmless scribbling.
+
+The author of “Evelina” went very slowly upstairs, and when she reached
+the work-room landing she found Susy and Lottie waiting for her, glowing
+with excitement. Susy was waving over her head what seemed to be a bulky
+pamphlet. Coming closer, Fanny saw that it was the chief of the literary
+reviews, which had apparently just arrived at the house.
+
+“A splendid column about 'Evelina,'” she whispered. “Not so good as
+it should be, but still splendid. Here it is. But why are you so glum?
+Surely they did not scold you now that the book is so great a success.”
+
+“They did not ask me to tarry in the room to charge me with
+double-dealing in regard to the book,” said Fanny. “They would not allow
+me to make my confession when I had the opportunity--the best that I
+shall ever have. 'Twas not my confession that was on the _tapis_, but
+quite another. That is why I look glum.”
+
+“Another--another confession? But what had either of them to confess?”
+ cried Lottie.
+
+“Nothing. They didn't confess.”
+
+“But whose confession was it, then, if not theirs?” asked Lottie.
+
+“It was young Mr. Barlowe's,” said Fanny, with a lugubriousness that was
+quite comic. “Young Mr. Barlowe wrote to the padre to confess that
+he was passionately--madly--in love with me, and threatening to drown
+himself unless permission were given to him to address me--we all know
+how fervently young Mr. Barlowe would put his case--that was what I was
+summoned to listen to--the fiery letter--only it was too ardent for my
+ears: I was only told its purport.”
+
+“But who would ever have thought that he had it in him?” cried Susy.
+“Such impudence! I never dreamt that he could rise to such a height of
+impudence or I should have thought better of him.”
+
+“'Tis not too late yet, my child,” said Fanny. “You are at liberty to
+think as highly of Thomas as you please--or as it would please him.
+Please take over his blighted affections and it will be a weight off
+my mind. Now give me a chance of reading my splendid review--not that
+I care in the least what these foolish critics may say of me--I care
+nothing, I tell you, only if you do not let me see it at once I shall
+die at your feet.”
+
+“There it is,” said Susy, “a full column! The idea of anyone written
+of in such terms being proposed to by Thomas Barlowe! Such impudence
+indeed!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+|THE levity shown by Fanny Burney and the flippancy of her phrases did
+not wholly conceal from her sisters all that she was feeling on the
+subject of the proposal to which she had referred with such lightness.
+She knew that while her father and her stepmother would not treat her
+with any marked disfavour on account of her rejection of the worthy
+young man who was ready to offer her a home, still Mrs. Burney at least
+regarded with great disfavour the nature of the answer which she had
+to send to the Poultry, and Fanny was very well aware of the ease with
+which so conscientious a guardian as Mrs. Burney could make her feel
+every day of her life what was Mrs. Burney's opinion of her rejection of
+an eligible young man.
+
+Fanny recognized the great merits of her stepmother, and she could look
+from her standpoint at most of the incidents of their daily life. In
+that household one mouth less to feed was worth consideration--the
+number of mouths to feed was a constant source of thought with Mrs.
+Burney, as was also the question of a provision for the future of all of
+them.
+
+Mrs. Burney would be fully justified in feeling cross with her, not
+being aware of the fact that another young man, compared with whom
+Thomas Barlowe was as the dust of the ground, was burning, with an
+ardour of which Thomas was incapable, to take her to himself and provide
+for her in a style undreamt of in the Poultry.
+
+But the worst of the matter was that she could not let her stepmother
+into this secret. She could not say that she was engaged to marry Signor
+Rauzzini, and she might leave herself open to the gravest rebuke for
+having listened to his protestations of devotion without obtaining the
+consent of either of her parents.
+
+And through all this tangle of reflections there ran the silken thread
+of consciousness that she was no longer the Fanny Burney who was
+regarded by her stepmother as the dunce, but Fanny Burney the writer of
+“Evelina,” to whom the most critical review had devoted a full column of
+adulation!
+
+That was what made her position so anomalous; and it was because she
+took the happenings of the previous days to heart that she went to bed
+with a shocking headache, and after a sleepless night was found on the
+verge of a fever. She was suffering from suppressed secrets; but the
+doctor did not know this. He prescribed James's Powders; and when these
+should have done all that they were meant to do--a small part of all
+that Dr. James and Mr. Newbery affirmed they would do--a change into the
+country.
+
+But several weeks had passed before she was strong enough to start on
+the latter and most essential portion of the prescription, and found
+herself in her own room in Mr. Crisp's isolated house at Chessington.
+
+Meantime, of course, she had no further news of the book, and she
+remained unconfessed, so far as the secret of its publication was
+concerned. Her sisters did not so much as mention its name or the name
+of Thomas Barlowe, so cleverly had they diagnosed the nature of her
+malady and so tactfully did they try to hasten her recovery.
+
+Her old friend Mr. Crisp had been her guide since her childhood. She
+always alluded to him as her second Daddy--so far as paternal influence
+was concerned she might have given him the foremost place. He it was who
+had led her on to embody in letters to him the daily incidents of
+her life, thus unconsciously setting the loom, as it were, in which
+“Evelina” was to be woven. He it was who became her teacher and her
+critic, and it was possibly because she feared his criticism of her work
+that she refrained from making a confidant of him from the first. She
+felt that she could face the public and the reviewers--it did not matter
+how they might receive the book, but she was too timid to submit it to
+the mature judgment of the man who had first put a pen in her hand. It
+was not on her own account that she refrained from giving him a chance
+of reading her book, but on his: she knew how hurt he would be if he
+found her book to be an indifferent one, and whether indifferent or not,
+how angry he would be if people did not buy it by the thousand.
+
+Now, however, that she found herself alone with him, she made up her
+mind to tell him all about it. She would choose her own time for doing
+this; but it would certainly be done before she returned to St. Martin's
+Street.
+
+But on the second day after her arrival at Ches-sington a parcel came
+for her, addressed by Susy. On opening it, she found it to contain two
+volumes of “Evelina.” The letter that was enclosed told her that Cousin
+Edward had called at the Orange Coffee House and found that a set
+had been left there at the instance of Mr. Lowndes, addressed to Mr.
+Grafton. Of these, Lottie had read the first two, which were now sent on
+to the author, but the third she had not finished, and hoped that Fanny
+would not mind her detaining it for a few days longer.
+
+This was really the first glimpse that the author had of her book in its
+binding. She had, in the name of Mr. Grafton, requested Mr. Lowndes
+to send a set of the volumes to the Orange Coffee House. But that was
+nearly three months ago, and until now Mr. Lowndes appeared not to have
+thought it worth his while to comply with the request. Now, however, it
+seemed to have occurred to him that the author of a book that everyone
+was talking about might be worth conciliating, and so he had directed a
+set of volumes to the Coffee House.
+
+At once Fanny made up her mind that she would pave the way, so to speak,
+for a full confession to Mr. Crisp.
+
+“Susy has sent me on two volumes of a new novel, lest I should feel
+dull,” she said. “As if I am not much more likely to feel dull in the
+company of a new novel than of my old Daddy!”
+
+“I thought that your stepmother prohibited the reading of novels, new or
+old, in your house,” said he.
+
+“Perhaps mamma did not know anything about this particular one,” replied
+Fanny; “besides, it is to be read in your house, not ours.”
+
+“So that the responsibility will be mine?” said he. “Mrs. Burney is
+only answerable to heaven for keeping your mind free from the baleful
+influence of novels, but I am in a worse case, for I am answerable to
+Mrs. Burney. And what is the name of the precious production?”
+
+“Let me see,” said Fanny, artfully referring to the title page. “Oh,
+yes: 'Evelina; or, a Young Lady's Entrance into the World.' Do you call
+that an alluring title?”
+
+“Too sentimental by half,” he replied. “But I have heard of the thing,
+and one of the reviews dealt with it some weeks ago.”
+
+“Praise or blame?”
+
+“Oh, foolish adulation for the great part; but not without a reasonable
+word here and there.”
+
+“The reasonable part you are sure must be the censorious? That is not
+fair to the poor author.”
+
+“Poor author? Yes, they are all poor authors nowadays. What's the name
+of this particular item of poverty?”
+
+“There is no name on the title page; but I hear that the writer was Mr.
+Anstey himself.”
+
+“What! another 'Bath Guide'!”
+
+“Sir Joshua Reynolds told mamma that he had remained up all night
+reading it.”
+
+“Poor Sir Joshua! His eyes are none too good at the best! And does Susy
+believe that the book which kept Sir Joshua awake is the best one to
+send you asleep? You came to Chessington, you know, to get as much as
+possible; 'Tired Nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep!' the truest words
+that Shakespeare ever writ.”
+
+“What I propose to do is to try it upon you, my dear sir. I mean to give
+you a dose of it this evening, instead of gruel, and if it makes you
+sleep I will know that I may continue it for myself--it will be more
+wholesome than poppy or mandragora.”
+
+“Good! But I dare swear that it will be bad enough to keep me awake. You
+know that extremes meet in the case of books, as well as other matters;
+one keeps awake reading a good book, in expectancy of its undeveloped
+goodness; and reading a bad one, wondering how far the author can
+actually go in point of dullness.”
+
+“I have often thought that; but Susy has sent only two of the three
+volumes.”
+
+“So that we shall not be able to fathom the full depth of the author's
+dullness? We should be grateful to Susy--so should the author. Well, you
+shall begin after tea, while there is yet daylight: _Le livre ne vaut
+pas la chandelle._”
+
+“_Nous verrons_,” cried Fanny.
+
+And she started reading the book that same day, an hour before sunset.
+The room in which they sat was a small one with a window facing the west
+and overlooking a long stretch of billowy common. The spicy scent of
+the wallflowers in the little garden patch at the side of the house was
+wafted through the half-open lattice, and occasionally there came the
+sound of the ducks gabbling at the pool beyond the gate that shut off
+the house from the lane. It was a cloudless evening, and the sunset
+promised to be peach-like in its tender tints of pink and saffron with
+the curves of delicate green in the higher sky. Fanny sat at the window
+and the old man reclined at his ease upon the sofa.
+
+“I am giving myself every chance,” he said. “All that I ask of you, my
+Fannikin, is that you do not glance at me every now and again to see
+if I am still awake. If you do so, I shall never yield to so much as a
+doze.”
+
+“I promise faithfully to await your signal that you are alert,” said
+she.
+
+And so began one of the most delightful hours of her life.
+
+She was not a particularly good reader aloud when a book was casually
+put into her hands, but here she had before her a volume that she could
+almost have repeated verbatim, so that she soon found that she was just
+too fluent: she felt that if she went on at this rate his critical ear
+would tell him that she had every page by heart, and he would ask her
+for an explanation of so singular a thing as her being able to repeat
+so much of a book which she professed to have in her hands for the first
+time. She put a check upon her fluency, and though she did not go so
+far as to simulate stumbling over certain words, she neglected the
+punctuation now and again, and then went back upon some of the passages,
+causing him to give a little grumble and say:
+
+“Be careful, my dear; there's no need for haste: the evening is still
+young.”
+
+After that she was more careful--which is the same as saying she was
+more careless of adhering to the scheme she had adopted. She felt that
+as he had now been put off the scent, she might run along as she pleased
+without there being a chance of his suspecting anything through her
+showing herself familiar with passage after passage.
+
+Before she had got through more than a dozen pages she heard a creaking
+of the sofa--she trusted herself to glance in that direction and
+found that he was no longer reclining: he was sitting up and listening
+attentively. She continued reading without making a remark for a full
+hour. The sun had set, but the twilight was clear enough to allow of her
+seeing the print on the page before her for some time still; then the
+darkness seemed to fall all at once, and she laid the book down when she
+had come to the close of one of the letters.
+
+“Candles,” he said. “Candles! Upon my word, the world is right for once:
+the stuff is good. We must have candles. Candles, I say!”
+
+“Supper, say I,” cried Fanny. “I feel that I have need of bodily
+refreshment after such a task. Does it sound real to you, Daddy
+Crisp--all about the Young Lady who is about to enter the world?”
+
+“Not merely does it sound real, it is real--it is reality,” he replied
+quickly. “The man who wrote what you have read has something of the
+genius of--of--now whom does he resemble, think you?--Richardson here
+and there, and in places, Fielding, it seems to me.”
+
+“You suppose that 'tis written by a man?” she said.
+
+“Why, of course, 'tis the work of a man,” he replied. “Where is the
+woman living that is capable of writing a single page of that book?
+What, have I gone to so much trouble in training you to understand
+what is bad and what is good in writing, to so little purpose, that you
+should have a doubt as to the sex of what you have just read?”
+
+“The sex of a book--a novel?”
+
+“Why not? There are masculine books and there is feminine--trash. There
+you have the difference.”
+
+“And you do not consider this to be--trash?”
+
+“Will you get the candles, Miss Burney? It seems that you are sorely in
+need of illumination if you put that question to me seriously. Trash?
+Madam, you perceive that I am all eagerness to hear the rest of the
+story, and yet you put that silly question to me! Look you here, you
+rogue, cannot you see that the very fact of your putting such a question
+to me shows that the book is the work of a man? When a carefully trained
+woman such as you cannot yet discriminate between the good and the trash
+that is written, how would it be possible for a woman to write what you
+have read?”
+
+“You think there is nothing womanly in the book?”
+
+“There is nothing effeminate in the writing, so much is sure. There is
+plenty that is womanly in the book, because the man who wrote it knows
+how to convey to a reader a sense of womanliness to be in keeping with
+the character of the letters--that is what is meant by genius. A woman
+trying to produce the same effect would show the frill of her petticoat
+on every page. She would make the men's parts in the book as feminine as
+the women's. Now, no more chatter an you please, but get the candles.”
+
+“And Mrs. Hamilton will get our supper by their light.”
+
+Fanny tripped away, and was behind the door of the larder before she
+allowed the laughter which was pent up very close to her eyes to have
+its freedom. It was a very hearty laugh that she had, for there was a
+constant buzzing in her ears of the question:
+
+“What will he say when he learns the truth?”
+
+She was ready to dance her Nancy Dawson in delight at seeing the effect
+of the book upon the old man whom she loved--the man who was directly
+responsible for its existence. If Mr. Crisp had not taken trouble with
+her, encouraging her to write her letters to him in a natural style, the
+correspondence in “Evelina” would, she knew, be very different from what
+it was. So, after all, she reflected, he was right in pronouncing the
+book the work of a man; but he had no idea that he was the man who was
+responsible for it. That reflection of hers was as fully imbued with the
+true spirit of comedy as her anticipation of the effect that would be
+produced upon him by the revelation of the authorship.
+
+And that was why this young student of the human comedy was able to
+restrain herself from making the revelation to him at once: she had, as
+it were, a delicate palate for comedy, and it was a delight to her--the
+gratification of her natural vanity had nothing to do with it--to lead
+him on to commit himself more deeply every moment on the question of the
+sex of the writer. Oh, no; she had no idea of making any confession to
+him for the present. She would have many another chat with him before
+the moment for that _dénouement_ in the comedy should arrive.
+
+So she got the candles and the housekeeper laid the cold chicken and the
+plates on the supper-table, and Mr. Crisp set about mixing the salad in
+the manner he had acquired in Italy. And all the time they were engaged
+over the simple meal he was criticising what she had read, and he had
+scarcely a word to say about it that was not favourable. But he took
+care to protect himself in case he should be forced to retire from the
+position he had taken up.
+
+“A man is a fool to pronounce an opinion on a book before he has had
+the last page read to him,” he said. “I have only been touching upon the
+part that I have heard, and I say that it seems to me to be as good
+as anything I have read for years; but that is not saying that the
+remainder, or some portions of the remainder, may not be so greatly
+inferior as to compel me to pronounce unfavourably of the book as a
+whole. I have had instances of such inequality shown by many writers,
+and it may be that the writer of 'Evelina' will be added to the list,
+although he shows no sign of falling off up to your last page. Do not be
+hurried by me, my dear, but if you have indeed made up your mind to eat
+no cheese, Mrs. Hamilton can remove the _débris_, and unless you are
+tired, you will read me a few pages more.”
+
+She read until midnight. The only pauses that she made were when he
+trimmed the wicks of the candles. He commended her fluency. She
+had never read better in his hearing, he said. She showed that she
+understood what she was reading; and that, after all, was the greatest
+praise that could be given to anyone. He did not suggest the likelihood
+that she was tired.
+
+There was the sound of the bleating of lambs occasionally borne from the
+meadows beyond the little stream--the sound of an owl that came nightly
+about the house from the barn of the farm a few hundred yards away--the
+sound of a large moth bumping against the glass of the casement through
+which the candle-light shone. There was nothing to interrupt her in her
+delightful task until the church clock struck the hour of midnight.
+
+“Not another line,” she cried, jumping from her chair. “Poor Evelina!
+she will be the better for a sleep. When she awakens she may be able to
+see more clearly who are her true friends and who are not to be trusted.
+Good-night, dear Daddy; and receive my thanks for your attention.”
+
+“Give me the volume,” he said. “I usually awake before six, and so shall
+have a couple of hours of it before rising.”
+
+“You will not get it from me, sir,” she cried. “Captain Mervain knows
+the naval rule about drinking glass for glass, and let me tell you that
+the same rule holds in the matter of reading a book--chapter for chapter
+between us, sir; we shall finish as we have begun.”
+
+She blew him a kiss and ran upstairs to escape his protests: he shouted
+them after her from the foot of the stairs.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI
+
+|THE next morning was a lovely one, and Fanny was feeding the ducks
+in the brook before eight o'clock. When she came into the house to
+breakfast she found Mr. Crisp in the porch.
+
+“You have given me a sleepless night,” he said. “I lay awake
+endeavouring to determine for my own satisfaction what would be the
+outcome of the girl's meeting that dreadful Branghton family. I worked
+out the story to its proper conclusion--so I thought--on my left side;
+but when I turned on my right I found that I had been grossly astray in
+all my fancies; and forthwith I set to work to put myself right. After
+an hour or two I thought I had succeeded, but, lo! a turn on my back and
+I saw that, as I planned it, the story would never come to an end. So
+I kept on until the dawn. Then I fell asleep, but only to find myself
+surrounded by demons, in the form of Branghtons, and a master devil
+wearing the epaulets of a naval officer, and he made for me with a
+horrid leer and a cry of Mervain! I awoke in a worse state than did the
+Duke of Clarence in the play, and I have not slept since. Oh, that
+little mischief, Susy! Wherefore did she send hither that magic book to
+be my undoing?”
+
+“Ah, sir, never before did I perceive the evil of novel reading,” she
+said. “I could not understand my mother's banning all such books, but
+now I see the wisdom of it. I now see how they tend to unsettle one.
+But it may not yet be too late to save you from the evil influence of
+'Evelina.' If I read no more of her story, you will soon forget her and
+all may be well.”
+
+“You will read no more? Good! Carry out your threat and I will e'en take
+the coach to London and buy a full set at Mr. Newbery's.”
+
+“At Mr. Newbery's? Ah, sir, that is a threat you could not carry out,
+however vindictive you might be.”
+
+“And why not, prithee? Think you I would begrudge the seven or eight
+shillings it would cost?”
+
+“Nay, sir; but if you went to Mr. Newbery you would probably find
+yourself treated badly by him if you accused him of publishing the book.
+'Tis Mr. Lowndes who is the guilty person.”
+
+“You will not put one to the humiliation of a journey to London all for
+a trumpery novel?”
+
+“Nay, not for a trumpery novel; but we were talking of 'Evelina.'”
+
+“I submit to the correction, my dear; and so now we are in perfect
+agreement, you will continue the story, if only to allay my sleepless
+speculations.”
+
+“I wonder how it will sound when read in the morning? I fear that it
+will be as dull as a play would seem in the garish light of day.”
+
+“Tell not that to me. There are novels of the morn as well as of
+the even, and I believe that the freshness of this one will be best
+appreciated in the brightness of such a morning as this. At any rate, we
+can but make a trial of it. If we find that it does not read well, you
+can lay it aside till the evening.”
+
+Fanny was delighted to find that he was as interested in her book as
+Susy had been; and the noon came and found her beginning the second
+volume to him, sitting by his side in the sunlight that bathed the
+little garden, and his attention never flagged. Once or twice, however,
+he grumbled, but her ear assured her that his grumble was not a critical
+one; it was only meant to censure the behaviour of the rude Captain
+Mervain.
+
+They were still in the garden when, shortly after noon, a chaise was
+heard in the lane: it appeared to be on its way to the house.
+
+“What! as I live 'tis mamma and my sisters come to pay us a visit,”
+ cried Fanny, seeing a handkerchief waved to her from the window.
+
+“They shall be made welcome, for I cannot doubt that they have brought
+the third volume with them,” said Mr. Crisp, rising to receive his
+visitors.
+
+In this way the reading was interrupted, and indeed Fanny was rather
+glad of a respite. She had not risen from her chair since nine o'clock.
+A chance of stretching her limbs was very acceptable.
+
+Mrs. Burney and the girls had scarcely settled down to their cakes
+and sweet wine, after explaining that Dr. Burney had insisted on their
+taking this drive into the country, the day promised to be so fine, when
+Mr. Crisp turned to Susy, saying:
+
+“You wicked girl! What did you mean by sending us the two volumes of
+that vile novel to upset us poor country folk? And I hope you have not
+neglected to bring with you the third.” Poor Susy reddened and glanced
+at Fanny without trying to make any reply.
+
+“Eh, what is this?” cried the old man. “Do you mean to disclaim all
+responsibility for the act? Ah, 'tis too late for you to make such an
+attempt. The evil has been done. The poison has begun to work in our
+blood; and its effects can only be neutralized by the contents of the
+third volume. Say at once, I pray, if you have brought it.”
+
+“Do not trouble poor Susy with your tropes, sir,” said Fanny. “She
+cannot grasp your meaning, and only trusts that we have not gone mad. I
+suppose the road was as usual--half of it muddy and the rest dusty?”
+
+“I insist on hearing if the third volume is in the chaise,” said Mr.
+Crisp, firmly. “If it be not, then you may drive straight back to St.
+Martin's Street and return hither with it in time for Fannikin to read
+it to-night.”
+
+“Pray what book is it that you refer to, Mr. Crisp?” inquired Mrs.
+Burney.
+
+“What book, madam! As if there were more books than one printed this
+year! Why, Mrs. Burney, where have you been living all this time, that
+you have never heard of 'Evelina '?” cried he.
+
+“I have heard of little else save this 'Evelina' for some time past;
+but I have no time for reading novels, nor has any member of my family,”
+ replied the lady.
+
+“I insisted on one member of your family finding the time yesterday
+and to-day, and the consequence is that she has gone through the first
+volume and part of the second since Susy was so obliging as to send
+them hither. I was in hopes that you had brought the third volume; but I
+perceive that we shall have to wait for it now.”
+
+Susy was examining very closely the pattern on her plate when Mrs.
+Burney turned to her, saying:
+
+“Does Mr. Crisp mean that you got that novel and sent it hither to
+Fanny?”
+
+“Only part of it--no more than two volumes,” said Susy quickly, as
+though anxious to submit extenuating circumstances to the notice of her
+stepmother.
+
+“Did you get it at Hill's library, or where?” inquired Mrs. Burney.
+
+“I did not get it at a library,” replied Susy slowly, as a reluctant
+witness might answer an incriminating question.
+
+“What, did you buy it? Did you spend your money on it?” cried Mrs.
+Burney, with a note of amazement not free from anxiety.
+
+“Oh, no; I did not buy it,” said Susy.
+
+“How did it come into your hands, then--tell me that?”
+
+“Cousin Edward brought it for Fanny.”
+
+“And you read the first two volumes and are now reading the third?”
+
+“Nay, mamma, 'tis I that was led by my curiosity,” said Lottie hastily.
+
+“Though you have often heard me protest against the vice of novel
+reading? I wonder at you, Lottie. I am shocked that you should so yield
+to a vulgar temptation,” said Mrs. Burney.
+
+“Nay, my dear madam, you must not talk of our dear 'Evelina' as if she
+were an everyday person,” said Mr. Crisp. “On the contrary, she is a
+most interesting young lady, and if I do not soon learn what happens
+to her now that she has formed some very dubious intimacies, I shall be
+inconsolable. Have you read the book, Mrs. Burney?”
+
+“Not I indeed,” replied Mrs. Burney, with more than a suggestion of
+indignation that such a charge should be brought against her. “I have
+heard enough about that book during the past month to prevent me from
+having any wish to read it, even if I were a novel reader, which I
+certainly deny. I am ashamed that any member of my household should so
+far forget her duty as to read such stuff.”
+
+“Come, come, my dear lady, you must remember that there are novels and
+novels,” said Mr. Crisp. “I have heard you praise Mr. Richardson, have I
+not?”
+
+“Mr. Richardson was a genius and a great moral writer, sir, as well.”
+
+“The two are not invariably associated. But what if I tell you that
+this new book is worthy of being placed between 'Clarissa Harlowe' and
+'Pamela'?”
+
+“You will not do so gross an injustice to the memory of a great man, I
+am sure. But, if you please, we will discuss this no longer. No matter
+what this 'Evelina' may be, the fact remains that I gave a command that
+our home should be free from the taint of novel reading, and my wishes
+have been secretly ignored. I should not wonder if Fanny had encouraged
+Edward to procure the book for her.”
+
+“I cannot deny it,” said Fanny in a low voice. “'Twas my doing
+altogether. All the blame should rest on my shoulders--yes, from the
+first--the very first--from the title page on to 'Finis.'”
+
+“And your delinquency has given me greater pleasure than I have derived
+from other people's rectitude,” said Mr. Crisp. Then he turned to Mrs.
+Burney.
+
+“Dear madam, you must forgive our Fannikin for her misdemeanour. If
+you had but read the book for yourself you would feel as I do on the
+subject. 'Tis the most fascinating story----”
+
+“That is, I hold, the worst of the matter,” said Mrs. Burney. “The more
+fascinating the novel, the more dangerous it is, and the greater reason
+there is why it should be excluded from every honest home. A dull story
+may do but little harm. One might reasonably tolerate it even among a
+household of young girls, but a clever one--a fascinating one, as you
+call this 'Evelina,' should never be allowed to cross the threshold.
+But, by your leave, sir, we will talk no more upon a question on which I
+know we shall never agree.”
+
+“That is the most satisfactory proposal that could be made,” said Mr.
+Crisp, bowing. “I will only add that since you are so fully sensible
+of the danger of a delightful book in your house, you will take prompt
+measures to prevent the baleful influence of 'Evelina' from pervading
+your home, by despatching the third volume to me without delay. The
+third volume of such a novel may in truth be likened to the match in
+the barrel of gunpowder: 'tis the most dangerous part of the whole. The
+first two volumes are like the gunpowder--comparatively innocent, but
+the moment the third volume is attached--phew! So you would do well
+not to delay in getting rid of such an inflammatory composition, Mrs.
+Burney.”
+
+“I promise you that you shall have it at once, sir,” said Mrs. Burney.
+“And I trust that you will not allow the first and second to return to
+my house. A barrel of gunpowder may be as innocent as you say, so long
+as the match is withheld, but still I have no intention of turning our
+home into a powder magazine.”
+
+That was the last reference made to “Evelina” while Mrs. Burney and the
+two girls remained at Chessington. They went away so as to be back
+in St. Martin's Street in time for dinner; but the moment they
+were together in the chaise Mrs. Burney burst out once more in her
+denunciation of the vice of novel reading. From her general treatment
+of the theme she proceeded--as the girls feared she would--to the
+particular instance of its practice which had just come under her
+notice. She administered to poor Susy a sound scolding for having
+received the book from her cousin Edward in secret, and another to poor
+Lottie for having ventured to read it without asking leave. The girls
+were soon reduced to tears, but not a word did they say in reply. They
+were loyal to their sister and her secret with which they had been
+entrusted. Not a word did either of them utter.
+
+The drive home on that lovely afternoon was a dreary one, especially
+after Mrs. Burney had said:
+
+“I fear that this duplicity has been going on for a long time in our
+house. Yes, I have noticed more than once an exchange of meaning glances
+between you and Fanny, and sometimes, too, when your cousin Edward was
+in the room. It seemed to me that you had some secret in common which
+you were determined to keep from me. I said nothing at that time, for
+though my suspicions were awakened, yet I thought it best to take the
+most favourable view of the matter, and I assumed that the secret--if
+there was a secret--was an innocent one--such as girls in a family may
+share among themselves about some trifling thing; but now I have no
+doubt that your glances and your winks and your elbowings had to do with
+the smuggling of books into the house for your surreptitious reading. I
+am ashamed of you. It hurts me deeply to find that, after all the care I
+have taken to preserve you in innocence of the world and its wickedness,
+you have been behaving with such duplicity. I shall, of course, think
+it my duty to let your father know what I have found out, and he may be
+able to suggest some means of preventing a repetition of such conduct.”
+
+The poor girls dared not even look at each other for mutual sympathy,
+lest such glances should be interpreted by their mother as a further
+attempt to pursue the scheme of duplicity with which she had charged
+them. They could only sit tearful and silent until they were once again
+in St. Martin's Street. They longed to rush upstairs together to their
+room and mingle their tears in a sisterly embrace before determining
+how they should meet their stepmother's charges in the presence of their
+father.
+
+But Mrs. Burney was too astute a strategist to permit them to consult
+together.
+
+“Is your master within?” she inquired of William, the man-servant, who
+opened the door for them.
+
+“He is in the library, madam, with Mrs. Esther,” replied the man.
+
+“So much the better,” said Mrs. Burney to the girls. “We shall go
+directly to him, and your sister Esther will be present.”
+
+She made them precede her to the room that was called the library. Dr.
+Burney and Hetty were laughing together across the table--the sound of
+their merriment had been heard by the girls before the door was opened.
+But at the portentous gravity of the entrance of Mrs. Burney her husband
+became grave.
+
+“You have returned early,” he said, “and--good heavens! you have been
+weeping--you do not bring bad news--Fanny has not had a relapse?”
+
+“Fanny is quite well; but I bring you bad news,” replied Mrs. Burney.
+“You will, I am sure, regard it as the worst possible news when I tell
+you that she, as well as her sisters here, have been guilty of the
+grossest disobedience--a conspiracy of disobedience, I may call it.”
+
+“I am amazed--and grieved,” said he. “But I can scarcely believe that,
+brought up as they have been----”
+
+“They do not deny it,” said she. “I only discovered by chance that, in
+defiance of our rule against novel reading, they been have trafficking
+with their cousin Edward to procure novels for their secret reading, and
+the latest they smuggled into the house is that one called 'Evelina'--I
+actually found Fanny reading the book to Mr. Crisp, and her sisters
+admitted----”
+
+“But what did Fanny admit?” he cried.
+
+“She admitted that Edward had procured the book at her request,” replied
+his wife. “Was not that enough?”
+
+“Not half enough--not a quarter enough, considering that it was Fanny
+who wrote 'Evelina' with her own hand and under our very noses without
+our suspecting it,” said Dr. Burney quietly.
+
+Mrs. Burney looked at him dumbly for more than a whole minute. There was
+silence in the room.
+
+Then she sat slowly down on the nearest chair, still keeping her eyes
+fixed upon him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII
+
+|DOCTOR BURNEY sat for a long time staring at a point high above his
+wife's head. The eldest daughter, Hetty, standing at the other side of
+the writing-table, was radiant; her eyes were dancing. The two others
+were standing together--huddled together, it might be said, for they
+suggested a pair of lambs recently frightened--doubtful of what is going
+to happen next and feeling that the closer they are to each other the
+safer they will be.
+
+“Did you ever hear of anything so funny?” said Hetty, glancing around
+and still radiant.
+
+Her father got upon his feet.
+
+“And she was the only one that never had any attention,” said he, as if
+he had not heard Hetty's remark. “Fanny was left to make her own way as
+pleased her best--no one troubled about her education. She was left
+to pick up knowledge as best she could--the crumbs that fell from the
+others' table--that was how she picked up French when the others came
+back from school, and now she speaks it with the best of them... And
+so shy! Tell me, if you can, how she got her knowledge of things--the
+things in that book--the pictures red with life--the real life-blood of
+men and women--love--emotion--pathos--all that make up life--and don't
+forget the characterization--that's what seems to me all but miraculous.
+Hogarth--we all know that Hogarth drew his characters and fitted them
+into his pictures because he made it a point to walk among them and look
+at them with observant eyes; but tell me, if you can, what chance that
+child had of seeing anything; and yet she has filled her canvas, and
+every bit is made up of firm, true drawing. That is the chief wonder.”
+
+He spoke evidently under the impulse of a great excitement at first, not
+looking at anyone in particular--just skimming them all with his eyes
+as he paced the room. But he seemed gradually to recover himself as
+he talked, and he appeared to address his last words to his wife. This
+assisted her to recover herself also--a minute or so in advance of him.
+
+“You seem to be sure that Fanny wrote it,” she said, when he had done.
+“Is it fair to condemn her before you make sure?”
+
+Everyone looked at Mrs. Burney; but only her husband laughed.
+
+“Condemn her--condemn her for having written the finest novel since
+Fielding?” he said, with the laugh still on his face. There was no laugh
+on hers; on the contrary, its expression was more serious than ever.
+
+“A novel is a novel,” she said. “I told Mr. Crisp--but that was
+only about the reading of novels--the cleverer they are the more
+mischievous--dangerous--even the reading--I never dreamt of her going
+so far as to write one, clever or otherwise. But a novel is still a
+novel--she must have neglected her duties in the house, though I failed
+to observe it... and sending it to a bookseller without saying a word to
+us! Who would have believed that a young woman with her training--”
+
+“It flashed across me when I read the verses addressed to myself at the
+beginning that she had asked my permission some months ago, and that
+I had given it--I did so laughing at the poor child's credulousness in
+believing that any bookseller would print it for her and pay her for the
+privilege--the privilege of making a thousand pounds out of her book.”
+
+“What! are you serious?--a thousand pounds, did you say?”
+
+“Mr. Lowndes will make more than a thousand pounds by the sale of the
+book--Hetty tells me that he only paid Fanny twenty for it.”
+
+“What is the world coming to--a fortune in a single book! And we talked
+about her being portionless, when all the time she was more richly
+endowed than all the rest of the family; for if she has written one
+book, she can certainly write another equally remunerative. 'Perhaps she
+has another ready for the printers.”
+
+Mrs. Burney was blessed with the capacity to look at matters,
+however artistic they might be, from the standpoint of the practical
+housekeeper. The mention of so sonorous a sum as a thousand pounds
+caused the scales of prejudice to fall from the eyes through which she
+had regarded the act of authorship, and at that instant she perceived
+that it should not be thought of as a delinquency but as a merit.
+
+And, after all, it appeared that the girl had obtained the permission of
+her father to print it--that put quite a different complexion upon the
+transaction, did it not?
+
+And a thousand pounds--that appealed to the good sense of a practical
+person and swept away the last cobweb of prejudice that she had had
+respecting novels and their writers.
+
+“Has she another book written, think you?” she inquired in a tone full
+of interest. “Of course we shall see that she gets a better share of Mr.
+Lowndes' thousand pounds than she did for her first.”
+
+“She has not written a line since 'Evelina,'” said Esther. “To be sure,
+I have not been her _confidante_ since I got married, but I know that
+she was so frightened at the thought of what she had done that she would
+not write another page.”
+
+“Frightened! What had she to be frightened about?” cried Mrs. Burney in
+a tone of actual amazement.
+
+“Goodness knows,” said Esther with a laugh.
+
+The sound of the dinner-bell coming at that moment had about it also
+something of the quality of a long, loud, sonorous outburst of laughter
+with a cynical tinkle at the last.
+
+The group in that room dissolved in all directions with exclamations of
+dismay at being overtaken by the dinner-hour so unprepared.
+
+“It is all over now,” said Susy to Lottie, when they were alone in their
+room. “I was afraid when she ushered us so formally into the library
+that we would be forced to tell our secret.”
+
+“I made up my mind that no torture of the rack or wild horses would
+unseal my lips,” said Susy, earnestly. “Do you know, Lottie, I feel
+quite lonely without our secret.”
+
+“It is just the same with me, dear,” said Lottie. “I feel as if I were
+suddenly cut off from some great interest in life--as if I had gone
+downstairs one morning and found that someone had stolen the piano. I
+wonder if it was Hetty who told the padre.”
+
+“Make haste and we shall soon learn all,” said Susy.
+
+Before they had finished dinner they learned from their father how he
+had got to the bottom of the secret that they had so cherished.
+
+He had gone as usual to give a music lesson to Queenie Thrale, and when
+partaking of some refreshment before setting out for London, Mrs. Thrale
+had talked to him in terms of the highest praise of “Evelina.” She had
+read the book twice over, she told him, and had lent it to Dr. Johnson,
+who could talk of nothing else. Then Mrs. Cholmondeley had arrived on a
+visit to Thrale Hall, and she, too, was full of praise of the book. She,
+too, had lent her copy to someone else--to no less important a person
+than Mr. Edmund Burke, and he had declared himself as greatly captivated
+by it as his friend Sir Joshua Reynolds had been. Everybody was
+talking about it, and the question of the authorship had been as widely
+discussed as before; Mrs. Cholmondeley had declared that she would give
+twenty guineas to find out for certain who it was that had written the
+book.
+
+Mrs. Thrale had thereupon suggested that Dr. Burney was in a better
+position than most people for solving the mystery, going about as he was
+from one part of the town to another and being in close touch with all
+manner of people.
+
+“But I had not, as you know, so much as read the book for myself--I
+seemed to be the only one in town who had not done so--and on getting
+home I sent William post haste to Mr. Lowndes to purchase a set. This
+done, I sat down to peruse the first volume. The page opened on the Ode;
+it lay beneath my eyes, and I tell you truly that I did not seem to read
+it: I seemed to hear Fanny's voice reading the verses in my ear, and
+the truth came upon me in a flash--incredible though it appeared, I knew
+that it was she who had written the book. Hetty came in before my eyes
+were dry--she saw the volume in my hand, and she understood all. 'You
+know,' was all that she said. I think that the greatest marvel was the
+keeping of the secret of the book! To think of its being known to four
+girls and never becoming too great for them to bear!”
+
+He was appealing to his wife, but she only nodded a cold acquiescence in
+his surprise. She remained silent, however, and this was something to be
+grateful for, the girls thought: they knew just what she was thinking,
+and they also knew that if they had some little trouble in keeping their
+secret, she had very much more in restraining herself from uttering some
+comment upon their reticence--their culpable reticence, she would
+think it. They could see that she was greatly displeased at having been
+excluded from their secret, since such an exclusion had forced her into
+a false position more than once--notably in the presence of Mr. Crisp,
+when she had become the assailant of novels and novel reading generally,
+and also when she had scolded them on their return in the chaise. But
+they were good girls, and they were ready to allow that they were in the
+wrong, even though they did not think so: that is what really good girls
+do in their desire for peace in their homes. And Lottie and Susy made
+up their minds that should their stepmother tax them with double-dealing
+and deceit, they would not try to defend themselves. The reflection that
+they had kept their sister's secret would more than compensate them for
+any possible humiliation they might suffer at Mrs. Burney's hands.
+
+All that Mrs. Burney said at the conclusion of her husband's further
+rhapsody about the marvel of Fanny's achievement, considering how she
+had been generally thought the dunce of the family, was comprised in a
+few phrases uttered in a hurt tone:
+
+“While no one is more pleased than myself to witness her success, I
+cannot but feel that she would have shown herself possessed of a higher
+sense of her duty as a daughter if she had consulted her father or his
+wife in the matter,” she said.
+
+“That may be true enough,” said Dr. Burney; “but if she had done so,
+would she have achieved her purpose any more fully than she has, I ask
+you? No, my dear, I do not feel, with any measure of certainty, that I
+would have gone far in my encouragement of her efforts, nor do I think
+that you would have felt it consistent with your principles to do so.”
+
+“I was only referring to the question of a simple girl's duty in regard
+to her parents,” said Mrs. Burney.
+
+“And your judgment on that point is, I am certain, unassailable,” said
+he. “But here we have a girl who is no simple girl, but a genius; and
+I think that a good deal of latitude should be allowed to a genius--a
+little departure from the hard and fast line of the duties expected from
+a simple girl may be permitted in such a one as Fanny.”
+
+“Well, she has succeeded in her aims--so much is plain,” said Mrs.
+Burney. “But I hope that should any of her sisters set about a similar
+enterprise----”
+
+But the ringing laughter that came from the sisters, their father
+joining in with great heartiness, saved the need for her to complete
+her sentence. At first she felt hurt, but she quickly yielded to the
+exuberant spirit that pervaded the atmosphere of the room, and smiled
+indulgently, after the manner of a staid elderly lady who is compelled
+to take part in the romp of her girls and boys at Christmas time.
+
+She continued smiling, and the others continued laughing, and this
+spirit of good humour was maintained until bedtime.
+
+The girls knew that they would not be scolded for their participation
+in Fanny's secret; for Fanny by her success had justified any amount of
+double-dealing. If Fanny had made a fool of herself they would feel
+that they deserved to participate in her scolding; but success is easily
+pardoned, and so they rightly counted upon a general amnesty. What was
+it that their father had said about a thousand pounds?
+
+They went to bed quite happy, in spite of being deprived of the fearful
+joy of having a secret to keep.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII
+
+|DR. BURNEY had given instructions that Fanny was not to be communicated
+with at Chessington until he had seen her; but that the third volume
+of the book was to be sent to Mr. Crisp without delay. He was to go to
+Streatham again in two days' time, and thence to Chessington, where he
+would make Mr. Crisp aware of the identity of the writer of “Evelina.”
+
+He anticipated an interesting hour with Mr. Crisp, but a very much more
+interesting half-hour with Mrs. Thrale; for he meant, of course, to lose
+no time in letting that lady into the secret: he knew that she would
+make the most of the information he could impart to her; to be the first
+to learn what all her friends were striving to learn would at once place
+her above Mrs. Cholmondeley, who was willing to pay twenty guineas for
+the knowledge, and even Mrs. Montagu, who was inclined to patronize
+Mrs. Thrale and a good many other ladies, in spite of the fact that Dr.
+Johnson dined usually five days out of every week with Mrs. Thrale,
+but had only dined once with Mrs. Montagu since she had gone to her new
+house.
+
+Dr. Burney was well aware how valuable the Thrale connection was to him;
+a teacher of music is apt to look with sparkling eyes at a houseful of
+girls whose father possesses the possibilities of such wealth as was
+defined by Dr. Johnson in this particular case as beyond the dreams
+of avarice. Dr. Burney had a very nice judgment on the subject of an
+influential connection, and so was delighted to have a chance of doing
+a signal good turn to so deserving a patroness as Mrs. Thrale. Yes,
+he felt sure that his half-hour at Streatham Hall would be the
+most interesting of the many half-hours he had spent under the same
+hospitable roof.
+
+And he was not mistaken in his surmise.
+
+Mrs. Thrale had, as usual, several friends coming to partake of an early
+repast with her; and Dr. Burney had pictured to himself the effect of
+his announcement to the company that his daughter had written the book
+upon which he was pretty sure the conversation would turn--indeed, he
+felt that he would be greatly surprised if the conversation did not
+immediately rush to the question of “Evelina” and remain there for the
+rest of the afternoon; for the enterprising ladies would doubtless
+bring with them some fresh suggestions or new cues to its authorship.
+He pictured himself allowing them to go on for some time until perhaps a
+statement would be made which he should have to contradict point-blank.
+They would all look at him in surprise. What did he know about the
+matter? Was he interested in the question? Had he found out anything?
+
+How he would smile while saying quietly:
+
+“Well, I am more or less interested in the matter, the fact being that
+'Evelina' is the work of my daughter, Fanny Burney!”
+
+That would be, he thought, a fitting moment in which to divulge the
+secret; he saw the whole scene clearly before him.
+
+But before he had reached his destination that intuition of what would
+commend itself to a patron which had been so important an auxiliary to
+his ability in placing him above his rivals in his profession, overcame
+his desire to play the most important part in a dramatic scene; he
+perceived that such a rôle should be taken by an influential patroness,
+and not by himself. Thus it was that when Mrs. Thrale was giving him a
+cup of chocolate after his journey he smiled, saying:
+
+“I was greatly interested in the conversation between Mrs. Cholmondeley
+and the other ladies when I was last here.”
+
+“About 'Evelina'?” she inquired. “Ah, I wonder if Mrs. Cholmondeley has
+yet paid over her twenty guineas to the discoverer of the author. It
+seems that he has as arduous a task in regard to 'Evelina' as Raleigh
+had in regard to his El Dorado.”
+
+“So it would appear,” said Dr. Burney. “Let us hope that his efforts
+will be more highly valued than those of poor Sir Walter. Have you
+yourself no suspicions on the subject, madam?”
+
+“Oh, suspicions? There have been as many suspicions set going on this
+subject within the month as would be entertained only by the most
+imaginative Bow Street runner. For my own part, I maintain that the book
+could only have been writ by our friend Horace Walpole. He found that
+his 'Otranto' excited so much curiosity when published without a name,
+he came to the conclusion that he would produce another novel with
+the same amount of mystery attached to it. The only point against this
+assumption is that----”
+
+“That the book was assuredly written by another person,” said Burney,
+smiling in a way that he designed to be somewhat enigmatical.
+
+Mrs. Thrale tried to interpret his smile.
+
+“What!” she exclaimed, “you have formed another theory--you--you have
+heard something since you were last here?”
+
+“Not something, madam--not a mere something, but everything--everything
+that is to be known regarding the writer of that book.”
+
+“Is't possible? Who is your informant?--the value of all that you have
+heard is dependent upon the accuracy of your informant.”
+
+“The book was written by the person whom I fancied I knew best of all
+the people in the world, and yet the last person whom I would believe
+capable of such a feat. The author of the book--I am the author of her
+being--she is none other than my daughter Fanny.”
+
+Mrs. Thrale sat staring at him, one arm resting upon the table, her lips
+parted as if about to utter an exclamation of surprise, but unable to do
+so by reason of her surprise.
+
+More than a minute had passed before she was able to speak, and then she
+could do no more than repeat his words.
+
+“Your daughter Fanny--your daughter--but is not Fanny the little shy
+one that goes into a corner when you have company?” she asked, in a
+tone that suggested that she had heard something too ridiculous to be
+believed.
+
+“She is that one, madam,” he replied. “It would seem as if the corner
+of a room has its advantages in enabling one to observe life from a
+true standpoint. Two eyes looking out from a corner with a brain behind
+them--there you have the true writer of a novel of life and character.
+Poor Fanny! How often have not I talked of her as 'poor Fanny'? She had
+no education except what she contrived to pick up haphazard--a sweet
+child--a lovable daughter, but the last person in the world to be
+suspected of such a book as 'Evelina.'”
+
+“You are sure, sir--you have seen--heard--you know?”
+
+“Beyond any doubt. Her sisters were let into the secret, but neither
+of her parents. I know now why that was--no want of duty--no lack of
+respect--she began the book for her own amusement, and it grew under
+her hand; she sent it to a bookseller, more as a jest than in the belief
+that anything would come of it, and up to the last it was treated by
+her and her sisters as a schoolroom mystery--a nursery secret--and
+Mrs. Burney and I were kept out of it solely because we were not of the
+nursery or the schoolroom. And when it became a serious matter we were
+excluded because they were afraid to reveal it to us--Fanny herself,
+dear child!--feared that we would be concerned if it were stillborn. It
+was only when it was at the point of being published by Mr. Lowndes that
+she came to me saying that she had been writing something and wanted
+my leave to send it forth, promising that no name would appear upon the
+title page. I gave my leave with a smile, and when I had my laugh at the
+innocence of the girl in fancying that any bookseller would pay for the
+printing of what she might scribble, I forgot all about the matter. It
+was only when I sent for the book and read the Ode addressed to myself
+that I seemed to hear Fanny's voice speaking the words in my ear--I told
+the others so when they returned from visiting her at Chessington. But
+meantime Esther had come to me, and she told me all that was known to
+her about the book and its secret.”
+
+“The most wonderful story ever known--more wonderful than the story of
+Evelina herself!” cried Mrs. Thrale. “How people--Mrs. Cholmondeley and
+the rest--will lift up their hands! Who among them will believe it all
+possible? List, my dear doctor, you must bring her to me in the first
+instance--all the others will be clamouring for her to visit them--I
+know them! You must bring her to me without delay--why not to-day? I can
+easily send a chaise for her--a coach if necessary. Well, if not to-day,
+to-morrow. I must have her here. We will understand each other--she and
+I; and Dr. Johnson will be with us--quite a little company--for dinner.
+You will promise me?”
+
+“Be assured, dear madam, that there is no house apart from her home
+where I feel she would be happier than in this,” said Dr. Burney. “She
+has often expressed the warmest admiration for you, and I know that her
+dearest wish is to be on terms of intimacy with you.”
+
+“The sweet girl! she shall have her dearest wish gratified to the
+fullest extent, sir. You will bring her as early to-morrow as it suits
+you. Good heavens! to think of that dear retiring child taking the town
+by storm! Dr. Johnson wrote to me no later than last evening, expressing
+once more his delight in reading the book, and Mr. Burke, too--but you
+heard about Mr. Burke. I will never forget your courtesy in telling me
+first of all your friends that she was the author, dear doctor.”
+
+“If not you, madam, whom would I have told?”
+
+“I shall be ever grateful. You will give me leave to make the revelation
+to my friends who will be here to-day?”
+
+“It is open for you to tell them all that I have told you, my dear
+madam; and you may truthfully add that if the writing of the book will
+bring her into closer intimacy with Mrs. Thrale, the author will feel
+that it has not been written in vain.”
+
+He made his lowest bow on rising from the table to receive his pupil,
+who entered the room at that moment.
+
+He had confidence that he was right in his intuition that his patroness
+would act with good effect the rôle which he had relinquished in
+her favour, when her friends would arrive in another hour for their
+“collation;” and he was ready to allow that none could have played the
+part more neatly than she did when the time came to prove how much
+better-informed she was than the rest of the world. She might have been
+possessed of the knowledge that Miss Burney was the writer of “Evelina”
+ from the first, from the easy and natural way in which she said:
+
+“Pray do not trouble yourselves telling me what Mrs. Cholmondeley said
+to Mr. Lowndes, or what Mr. Lowndes said to someone else about the
+writer of the novel; for it happens that I know, and have known for--for
+some time the name of the author.”
+
+There were a few little exclamations of surprise, and a very pretty
+uplifting of several pairs of jewelled hands at this calm announcement.
+
+“Oh, yes,” she continued, “the writer is a friend of my own, and the
+daughter of one of my most valued friends, and if any people talk to you
+in future of 'Evelina' being the work of Mr. Walpole or Mr. Anstey or
+any man of letters, pay no attention to these astute investigators, but
+tell them that I said the book is the work of Miss Fanny Burney, one of
+the daughters of the celebrated Dr. Charles Burney, himself the author
+of a 'History of Music' that will live so long as the English language
+has a literature of its own.”
+
+Mrs. Thrale did it all with amazing neatness, Dr. Burney thought; and
+the attempt that she made to conceal the expression of triumph in the
+glance that she gave to her guests let him know that his tact had been
+exercised in the right direction. Mrs. Thrale was not the woman to
+forget that he had given her such a chance of proving to her friends how
+intimate was her association with the literary history of the day. She
+had been for several years the patroness of Dr. Johnson, who had written
+the best dictionary, and now she was about to take under her protection
+Miss Burney, who had written the best novel. He knew that Mrs. Thrale
+was almost as glad to be able to reveal the secret of “Evelina” as if
+she had written the book herself.
+
+And everyone else at the table felt that Mrs. Thrale was indeed an
+amazingly clever woman; and wondered how Mrs. Cholmondeley would feel
+when she had learned that she had been forestalled in her quest after
+the information on which she had placed a value of twenty guineas.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV
+
+|IT had all come to her now. She had had her dreams from time to time
+when working at her novel--dreams of recognition--of being received on
+terms of equality by some of the lesser literary people who had visited
+the house in St. Martin's Street, and had gone away praising the musical
+talents of her sisters, but leaving her unnoticed. Her aspirations had
+been humble, but it seemed to her so stupid to be stupid in the midst of
+a brilliant household, that she longed to be able to do something that
+would, at least, cause their visitors of distinction to glance into her
+corner and recognize her name when it was spoken in their hearing.
+That was all she longed for at first--to be recognized as “the one who
+writes,” as people recognized “the one who plays.” But since Signor
+Rauzzini had come upon the scene her ambitions had widened. She dreamt
+not merely of recognition, but of distinction, so that he might be proud
+of her, and that she might not merely be spoken of as the wife of the
+Roman singer. That dream of hers had invariably been followed by a
+feeling of depression as she reflected upon the improbability of its
+ever being realized, and if it should not be realized, all hope of
+happiness would pass from her life. Thus it was that for some months she
+had lived with the cold finger of despair constantly pressing upon her
+heart. She was so practical--so reasonable--that she could never yield
+herself up to the fascination of the Fool's Paradise of dreams; she was
+ready to estimate her chances of literary success, and the result of
+the operation was depressing. How could any young woman who had seen so
+little of life, and who had been so imperfectly educated, have any hope
+to be received as a writer of distinction? What claim to distinction
+could such a girl as she advance in the face of the competition that was
+going on around her in every branch of distinctive work?
+
+For some months her good sense and her clear head were her greatest
+enemies; evermore bringing her back to the logic of a life in which
+everything is represented by figures, from a great artistic success to
+a butcher's bill--a life in which dreams play a part of no greater
+significance than the splendid colours clinging about the West in the
+unalterable routine of the setting sun.
+
+Many times she had awakened in the night to weep as she felt the
+bitterness of defeat; for her book had been given to the world and the
+world had received it as the sea receives a stone that is flung upon its
+surface. That simile of the stone and the sea was constantly recurring
+to her, and every time she saw that it was weak--that it fell short of
+meeting her case, for her book had made no stir whatsoever in the world,
+whereas a stone, however small it might be, could not be given to the
+sea without creating some stir on the surface of the waters.
+
+And then, quite unexpectedly, had come a whisper from the world to tell
+her that her book had not been submerged: the whisper had increased in
+volume until it had sounded in her ears like a shout of acclamation,
+telling her that the reality had far surpassed her most sanguine dreams,
+and that common-sense reasoning is sometimes farther astray in its
+operation than are the promptings of the most unreasonable ambition.
+
+These were her rose-tinted reflections while driving with her father
+from Chessington to Streatham, a journey which represented to her the
+passing from obscurity to distinction, the crossing of the Jordan and
+the entering into the Land of Promise.
+
+Fanny Burney has herself told the story of her father's coming to her
+at Chessington, and of her dear old friend's reception of the marvellous
+news that Dr. Burney brought to him--of the phrases which she
+overheard while the two men were in a room together--the incredulous
+exclamations--“Wonderful--it's wonderful!”--“Why, she has had very
+little education but what she has given herself--less than any of the
+others”--“The variety of characters--the variety of scenes, and the
+language”--“Wonderful!” And then Mr. Crisp's meeting her, catching her
+by the hands as she was going in to supper, and crying, “Why, you little
+hussy, ain't you ashamed to look me in the face you--you 'Evelina,' you!
+Why, what a dance you have led me about it!” Miss Burney has brought the
+scene vividly before our eyes in her Diary.
+
+It was one of the happiest days of her life; she saw the pride with
+which her father regarded her, for Dr. Burney was a practical man
+who valued achievement as it deserved, and was, besides, the best of
+fathers, and the most anxious to advance the interests of his children.
+He looked with pride upon his daughter, and talked of her having made
+Mr. Lowndes a wealthy man. His estimate of her earning powers had
+increased: he now declared that even if Lowndes had paid a thousand
+pounds for the book, his profits off it would enable him to buy an
+estate!
+
+It was the happiest evening of her life; and now she was in the chaise
+with her beloved father, driving to Streatham, where they were to
+dine, and Dr. Johnson was to be of the party. This meant more than
+recognition, it meant the Land of Promise of her ambitious dreams.
+
+She had many matters to reflect upon at this time, but all her
+reflections led to the one point--her next meeting with Rauzzini. The
+truth that had been revealed to her among Sir Joshua Reynolds' superb
+canvases, that love was more than all else that the world could give
+her, remained before her, as a luminous fixed star, to be a guide to her
+life; and the happiness that she now felt was due to the thought that
+she could go to the man whom she loved, without a misgiving, without
+fearing that he would hear those dreaded voices of the world saying that
+he had been a fool to ally himself with a nonentity, or that she would
+hear the whispers of those who might suggest that she had done very well
+for herself. She had long before made her resolution only to go to him
+when she could do so on terms of equality. At that time her resolution
+seemed to shut her out from all chances of happiness; she knew this, but
+at the same time she believed that it would shut both of them out from
+every chance of unhappiness; and so she had allowed it to dominate her
+life.
+
+That was where her common-sense and her reasonableness had their way,
+prevailing over that blind impulse which she now and again had, to trust
+to chance--and love--to overcome every other consideration, and to give
+her lover and herself happiness solely by being together. It was such
+impulses as this that caused love to be referred to as blind. But she
+was now ready to thank heaven for having given her strength to overcome
+it and so to give the victory to reason and good sense.
+
+She made up her mind to write to him before she slept that very night,
+telling him what her resolution had been--he had called it a mystery,
+not knowing anything about it--and asking him to rejoice with her that
+she had been able to maintain it, so that the barrier which she had seen
+between them was now swept away.
+
+“Come to me--come to me”--that would be the burden of her letter to him;
+she would send it to him and he would come.
+
+The thought made her lean back among the cushions of the chaise and shut
+her eyes, the better to enclose the vision of happiness that came from
+her heart. He would come to her and her happiness would be complete.
+
+So she arrived with her father at Thrale Hall and was welcomed by Mrs.
+Thrale in the porch. When she had made her toilet for dinner she was
+shown into the drawing-room. As she entered, she was conscious of the
+presence of several men, and the one nearest to her was, she saw, Signor
+Rauzzini.
+
+All the men in the room were looking toward her except Rauzzini. He was
+standing by the side of a small table, presenting his profile to her,
+and his eyes were gazing across the room at a picture that hung between
+the windows, a frown on his face.
+
+She was startled, and the blood rushed to her cheeks. It would have done
+so on her entering the room, even if she had not been surprised to see
+her lover there when she believed him to be still in France.
+
+She had stopped before reaching the middle of the room, and then she
+was hidden from the view of everybody by a huge mass of manhood in the
+person of Dr. Johnson. He seemed inclined to embrace her; and as he
+swung himself close to her, there was no one in the room that had not a
+moment of trepidation lest he should fall over her and crush her flat.
+
+Mrs. Thrale tripped alongside Fanny, as if ready to die with her.
+
+“Oh, come, Dr. Johnson,” she cried. “I have no intention of allowing
+you to monopolize Miss Burney, for that I perceive is your desire. The
+gentlemen must be presented to her in proper form.”
+
+“Madam,” said he, “I understood clearly that Miss Burney was coming
+hither for myself alone, and I have no mind to share so precious a
+morsel with others. Miss Burney and I are old friends, give me leave to
+say; I have more than once been interested in a book in the room where
+she was sitting in her father's house. Come to my arms, Miss Burney, and
+we shall laugh together at the jealous glances the others cast at me.”
+
+“Miss Burney will sit beside you at dinner, sir, and that must suffice
+you for the present,” said Mrs. Thrale, taking Fanny by the hand.
+
+But Johnson had succeeded, after more than one ineffectual attempt, in
+grasping Miss Burney's left hand, and in his ponderous playfulness, he
+refused to relinquish it, so that she had to make her curtsies to the
+gentlemen with Mrs. Thrale on one side of her and Johnson on the other.
+There was Mr. Seward and Sir Joshua Reynolds, and two others besides
+Signor Rauzzini. Each of them had a compliment to offer her, and did so
+very pleasantly and with great tact.
+
+“Now that is done, Miss Burney and I can sit together on the sofa, and
+she will tell me why she loves the Scotch and I will scold her for it,”
+ said Johnson complacently.
+
+“Nay, sir, Miss Burney has not yet greeted Signor Rauzzini,” said Mrs.
+Thrale. “You and Miss Burney are already acquainted, I know, Signor
+Rauzzini, though you did fancy that she was one of the musical girls of
+St. Martin's Street.”
+
+Rauzzini took a single step away from the table at which he had remained
+immovable, and bowed low, without speaking a word.
+
+Fanny responded. They were separated by at least three yards.
+
+“Dinner is on the table, sir,” announced a servant from the door.
+
+“I am not sorry,” said Johnson. “Mrs. Thrale gave me a solemn promise
+that Miss Burney should sit next to me. That was why I kept my eye on
+Miss Burney.”
+
+“And hand too, sir,” remarked Mr. Seward.
+
+“Why, yes, sir, and hand too, if you insist,” said Johnson. “And let me
+tell you, sir, that a Lichfield man will keep his hand on anything he
+wishes to retain when another Lichfield man is in the same room.”
+
+His laughter set the ornaments on the mantelpiece a-jingling.
+
+And they went in to dinner before the echoes had died away.
+
+Mrs. Thrale kept her promise, and Fanny was placed next to Johnson. But
+even then he did not let go her hand. He held it in one of his own and
+patted it gently with the other. Fanny glanced down the table and saw
+that the eyes of the young Roman were looking in her direction, and that
+they were flaming. What could he mean, she wondered. She had been at
+first amazed at his bearing toward her in the drawing-room; but after
+a moment's thought, she had supposed that he had assumed that distant
+manner to prevent anyone from suspecting the intimacy there was between
+them. But what could that angry look in his eyes portend? Was it
+possible that he could be jealous of Dr. Johnson's awkward attention to
+her?
+
+She was greatly troubled.
+
+But if he had, indeed, resented Johnson's attention to her, such a plea
+was no longer valid after the first dish had been served, for in an
+instant Johnson's attention was transferred, with increased force, to
+the plate before him, and during the solid part of the meal, at least,
+it was never turned in any other direction. Poor Fanny had never seen
+him eat, nor had she the same privilege in respect of Mr. Thrale. But
+she needed all the encouragement that her hostess could afford her to
+enable her to make even the most moderate meal while such distractions
+were in her immediate neighbourhood; and she came to the conclusion that
+she had been ridiculously fastidious over the prodigious tea and its
+service at Mr. Barlowe's in the Poultry.
+
+But Mrs. Thrale was as tactful and as chatty as ever, and Mr. Seward
+made pleasant conversation for her, sitting, as he did, on the other
+side from Johnson. When Johnson was eating, his fellow guests understood
+that their chance was come to express their views without a dread of
+being contradicted by him.
+
+But from the feebleness of her contribution to the chat of the table,
+Mrs. Thrale as well as Mr. Seward perceived that all they had been told
+about the timidity of little Miss Burney was even less than the truth.
+
+But for that matter, Signor Rauzzini, who had been placed between Mrs.
+Thrale and Dr. Burney, was found by both of them to be also singularly
+averse from joining in the conversation, whether in reply to Burney, who
+addressed him in Italian, or to his hostess, who spoke French to him.
+
+As Mrs. Thrale talked a good deal herself, however, she rose with an
+impression that there had been no especial lack of brilliancy at the
+table.
+
+She took Fanny away with her, her determination being that if she should
+fail to draw this shy young creature out of her shell, she would at any
+rate convince her that her hostess was deserving of the reputation
+which she enjoyed for learning, combined with vivacity, so that their
+companionship could not be otherwise than profitable after all.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV
+
+|IT was not yet six o'clock and the sun was not due to set for more than
+another hour. The evening was a lovely one. From the shrubberies around
+the house came the liquid notes of countless blackbirds and thrushes,
+and above the trees of the park the cawing of the rooks as they wheeled
+above their nests and settled upon the branches.
+
+“We shall sit on the terrace for half an hour, if you have a mind
+to,” said Mrs. Thrale, taking Fanny through the drawing-room into a
+smaller room that opened upon a long terrace above the beds of the
+flower-garden. Here were several seats and a small table bearing writing
+materials.
+
+“Here I do most of my correspondence in the summer,” said Mrs. Thrale.
+“Sitting at that table in the open air, I have few distractions, unless
+I choose to accept the birds as such; and here I hope you will begin
+a new novel, or better still, a comedy that Mr. Sheridan will produce,
+with Mrs. Abington in her most charming gowns--you must give your
+namesake a chance of wearing a whole trunkful of gowns.” They seated
+themselves, and Mrs. Thrale continued:
+
+“Now I have confided in you how I do my simple work, and I wish to hear
+from you by what means you found time to write your novel. That is the
+greatest secret of all associated with 'Evelina'--so your father thinks.
+Mrs. Burney I always knew as a model housekeeper--a model manager of a
+family, and how you could contrive to write a single page without her
+knowledge is what baffles me as well as your father.”
+
+“To tell you all would, I fear, be to confess to a lifetime of
+duplicity,” said Fanny. “I am sometimes shocked now when I reflect upon
+my double-dealing.”
+
+“Tell me how you first came to stray from the paths of virtue--such a
+story is invariably interesting,” said Mrs. Thrale.
+
+“My story is like all the others,” replied Fanny. “I only meant to turn
+aside a little way, but soon I lost myself and I knew that there was no
+retracing my steps.”
+
+“Alas, alas, the old story!” said Mrs. Thrale, with a long-drawn sigh.
+“Well, happily, you were not able to retrace your steps.”
+
+“I had no idea that the story would grow upon me as it did,” said Fanny.
+“I really only meant it to be a diversion for our dear friend, Mr.
+Crisp, and an exercise for myself. I wrote a scrap now and again at odd
+moments--when I was supposed to be writing to Mr. Crisp, or copying out
+my father's notes for his History, at home as well as at Ches-sington,
+and when I was staying at Lynn; and so the thing grew and grew until I
+was afraid to look at what I had perpetrated.”
+
+“You are paraphrasing _Macbeth_, my dear: 'I am afeared to think what I
+have done: Look on't again I dare not,'” said the elder lady. “But with
+all you were able to prepare your father's great work for the press--he
+told me as much; so that what your double-dealing comes to is that you
+did his writing as well as your own, and at the same time neglected none
+of your ordinary household duties--if you had done so Mrs. Burney would
+have informed you of it, I have no doubt. An excellent housewife, Mrs.
+Burney! And now you shall tell me how you contrived to bring together so
+marvellous a group of characters--you who have lived so short a time in
+the world, and had so small an amount of experience.”
+
+“I should like someone to answer that question for me,” said Fanny. “It
+was not until I read the book in print that I began to be surprised at
+it, and to wonder how it came to be written and how those characters had
+found their way into it.”
+
+But this question was too interesting a one not to be pursued by Mrs.
+Thrale; and for half an hour she put inquiry after inquiry to Fanny
+respecting the characters, the incidents and the language of “Evelina.”
+ Mrs. Thrale was certainly determined to place herself in a position to
+prove to her friends that Miss Burney had made a _confidante_ of her in
+all matters, down to the smallest detail of the book.
+
+In ordinary circumstances Fanny would have been delighted to give
+her her confidence in regard to these particulars--she had always a
+childlike pleasure in talking about her books--but at this time she only
+did so with a great effort. For while Mrs. Thrale was plying her with
+questions about “Evelina,” there was ever before Fanny the unanswered
+question as to what Rauzzini meant by his coldness and formality both
+before dinner and during that meal. What did he mean by looking at her
+with that reproachful frown upon his face? What did he mean by averting
+his eyes from her when he had a chance of exchanging confidences with
+her, as he had often done before? What did he mean by sitting at the
+table without addressing a single word to her?
+
+These were the questions which she was struggling in vain to answer to
+her own satisfaction all the time that Mrs. Thrale was putting
+inquiry after inquiry to her upon a matter that Fanny now regarded as
+insignificant compared with the one that she was trying to answer for
+herself.
+
+Mrs. Thrale was just beginning a series of questions on the subject of
+the comedy which she meant Miss Burney to write, when a servant appeared
+with a message for the former.
+
+“Tiresome!” exclaimed Fanny's hostess, rising. “Here is some
+insignificant household matter that can only be dealt with by the
+mistress--summer frocks for two girls: the carrier has brought some
+boxes--the summer has come upon us before spring has prepared us for
+its arrival, and there has been a despairing cry heard in the nursery.
+I need not excuse myself to you, Miss Burney. You will spare me for ten
+minutes.”
+
+Miss Burney hoped that the feeling of relief of which she was conscious
+did not show itself on her face, when she expressed the hope that Mrs.
+Thrale would not think of her; she would be quite happy with the birds.
+
+“And the comedy--do not forget the comedy.”
+
+Miss Burney laughed, but before her hostess had reached the door leading
+off the terrace, she was once more immersed in that question:
+
+“What does he mean by his change of attitude in regard to me?”
+
+It was serious--so much she knew. He had heard something that had caused
+him to change. But what could he have heard? What manner of man was he
+that would allow himself to be so influenced by anything that he might
+hear against her, without first coming to her for an explanation?
+
+Her mind went back to the evening when they had first met. It was in St.
+Martin's Street. He was there on the invitation of Dr. Burney: but it
+seemed that he had become conscious of a sympathy existing between her
+and himself, for he had remained by her side for a full hour while the
+others in the room were singing and playing on the piano, and he had
+held her hand at parting, expressing the hope, which his eyes confirmed,
+that they would soon meet again.
+
+And they had met again and again until one evening they found themselves
+alone in an anteroom to the apartment where a musical programme
+was being performed at a great house. Then he had told her that his
+happiness depended on her returning the love which he bore her; and
+startled though she had been, yet when he took her hand all her shyness
+seemed to vanish and she confessed....
+
+A sound behind her only served to make her memory seem more vivid, for
+it was his voice that reached her ear and it was singing the same aria
+that he had come from singing on that evening--the passionate
+“_Lascia ch'io pianga_” of Handel. Once more she was listening to
+the strains--they came from one of the rooms that opened upon the
+terrace--and now the chords of the accompaniment were struck with a
+vehemence that had been absent from her father's playing to Rauzzini's
+singing upon that occasion.
+
+She listened as if in a dream while the noble, despairing strain went on
+to its close, and the melody sobbed itself into silence--a silence
+that the birds among the roses seemed unwilling to break, for only an
+occasional note of a thrush was in the air....
+
+She heard the sound of the door opening a little way down the
+terrace--of a foot upon the flagged path. She did not raise her head,
+but she knew that he was there--only a few yards away from her.
+
+Through the silence there came the cawing of rooks far away among the
+trees of the park.
+
+Then all at once she heard his sudden exclamation of surprise. He had
+not seen her at first; he saw her now.
+
+“_Dio mio! ella è qui!_”
+
+Still she did not turn her head toward him. More than a minute had
+passed before she heard his slow steps as he approached her. He was
+beside her for quite as long before he spoke.
+
+“I did not know that you were here,” he said in a low voice. “But I am
+glad. It is but right that I should say good-bye to you alone.”
+
+Then she looked up.
+
+“Why--why--why?” she cried almost piteously. “Why should you say
+good-bye? What has made the change in you?”
+
+“It is not I who have changed: it is you,” said he. “I loved the sweet,
+modest, untarnished jewel of a girl--a pearl hidden away from the sight
+of men in a dim sea-cave--a violet--ah, I told you how I loved the
+violet that hides itself from every eye--that was what you were when
+I loved you, and I hoped to return to your side and find you the same.
+Well, I return and--ah, where is the exquisite shrinking one that I
+looked for? Gone--gone--gone for ever, and in her place I find one whose
+name is in every mouth--not a soft, gentle girl, but a woman who has put
+her heart into a book--_Dio mio!_ A woman who puts her heart into a
+book is like a woman who disrobes in a public place--worse--worse--she
+exposes a heart that should be sacred--feelings that it would be a gross
+indelicacy to exhibit to the eyes of man!”
+
+“And that is how you think of me on account of what I have done?” said
+she.
+
+“How can I think anything else?” he cried. “I told you that I loved you
+because you were so unlike others--because you were like a child for
+timidity and innocence of the world. I told you on that last evening we
+were together how greatly I admired the act of Miss Linley in turning
+her back upon the platform where she had sung and vowing never to
+return to it--that was what I told you I loved--I who have seen how
+the nature--the womanly charm of every woman suffers by reason of her
+appealing to the public for money--for applause. That beautiful creature
+forsook the platform before it was too late--before the evil influence
+could work her ruin. But you--what do I hear the day I return to
+England?--you have put your heart--your soul, into a book that causes
+your name to be tossed about from mouth to mouth--Fanny Burney--Fanny
+Burney--Fanny Burney--I hear that name, which I regarded as sacred,
+spoken as freely as men speak the name of their Kitty Fisher--their
+Polly Kennedy--their Fanny Abington! These are public characters--so
+are you--oh, my God! so are you. You should have heard how you were
+discussed in that room behind us before you arrived to-day--that
+gross man Johnson--he called you by a dozen pet names as if he had a
+right--'Fan'--'Fannikin'--I know not what--' a shy rogue '--that was
+another! They laughed! They did not see the degradation of it. You were
+a toy of the public--the vulgar crowd! Ah, you saw how that gross man,
+who fed himself as a wolf, tucked you under his arm and the others only
+smiled! Oh, I was shocked--shocked!”
+
+“And I felt proud--prouder than I have felt in my life,” said she. “But
+now I see what I have lost--forfeited. Listen to me and I will tell
+you what my dream was. I had written that book, but I had no hope of
+printing it until I met you and heard from your lips--all that I heard.”
+
+“It was the truth--then: I loved you--then.”
+
+“I knew that it was the truth. But who was I that I should be beloved by
+you? I felt that it would be unendurable to me to hear people refer
+to us--as I knew they would--the great singer who had stooped to a
+nonentity.”
+
+“Ah! that was the charm!”
+
+“Who except you would have said so? I knew what they would say, and I
+made up my mind that I would not go to you except as an equal. I wanted
+you to marry someone of whom you would feel proud, and I thought that
+I had a little gift which I would lay at your feet. I did my best to
+perfect it for your sake; but even when the book was printed I would not
+give you my promise until I had assured myself that the gift would be
+pronounced worthy of your acceptance. That was why I put you off for so
+many months.”
+
+“Ah, that was your mystery--you called it a mystery.”
+
+“That was my secret--my mystery. Never mind; I thought that my hope was
+realized when everyone about me was talking of the book and when people
+whose opinion was valuable had said it was good--my one thought, God
+knows, was that I could go to you--that I could make you happy, since I
+should be thought by the world to be in some measure at least, worthy of
+you.”
+
+“My poor child! you have not made me happy, but miserable. No one can
+make me happy now. I do not love you now--you are a different person
+now, and you can never return to be what you were. That is the worst of
+all: you can never return to your former innocence.”
+
+“I can bear to hear you say even that; for now I perceive the mistake I
+made. I should not have thought of the difference between us: I should
+only have had one thought--that you had offered me your love and that I
+was ready to offer you my love. That should have been enough for me. You
+were right, I was wrong. Good-bye.”
+
+He looked at her for a few moments--tears were in his eyes and on his
+cheeks--then he turned away with a passionate gesture, crying in his
+native tongue:
+
+“Mother--mother in heaven! I loved her because she was of a nature the
+same as yours--saint-like as a lily--shrinking from the world--in the
+world but having nothing in common with the world. I loved her because
+I thought that she was as you were. I will not be a traitor to your
+ideal--to your memory.”
+
+He returned to her.
+
+“I am alone in the world; but I know that the spirit of that saint,
+my mother, looks down upon me from her heaven, and will comfort me. My
+heart is broken. _Addio! Addio!_ I do not mean to be cruel--tell me that
+you do not accuse me of being cruel!”
+
+“I do not accuse you. I think I understand you--that is all.”
+
+“_Addio--addio--addio!_”
+
+The sound of his voice grew less with every word.
+
+She was alone in the silence of the twilight.
+
+Not for long, however. She heard the voice of Mrs. Thrale in the room
+behind her, followed by the protests of Dr. Johnson.
+
+“Miss Burney and I want to have an undisturbed talk together about
+writing books,” Mrs. Thrale was saying as she came out upon the terrace.
+
+“Books, madam; any fool can talk of books, and a good many fools avail
+themselves of the licence,” cried Johnson. “Miss Burney and I are going
+to talk about life. Books are not life, Miss Burney.”
+
+“No, sir,” said Miss Burney slowly; “books are not life--books are not
+life.”
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Fanny's First Novel, by Frank Frankfort Moore
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Fanny's First Novel, by Frank Frankfort Moore
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
+other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
+the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
+www.gutenberg.org.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
+to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
+
+
+
+Title: Fanny's First Novel
+
+Author: Frank Frankfort Moore
+
+Release Date: May 1, 2016 [EBook #51922]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FANNY'S FIRST NOVEL ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Widger from page images generously
+provided by the Internet Archive
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+FANNY'S FIRST NOVEL
+
+By Frank Frankfort Moore.
+
+Author of "The Jessamy Bride," "A Nest of Linnets," "I Forbid the
+'Banns," Etc.
+
+London: Hutchinson & Co. Paternoster Row, E. C.
+
+1913
+
+
+[Illustration: 0001]
+
+
+[Illustration: 0009]
+
+
+
+
+
+FANNY'S FIRST NOVEL
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+|INDEED, I am not quite assured in my mind that the influence of Mr.
+Garrick upon such a family as ours is healthy," said Mrs. Burney, when
+the breakfast cups had been removed and the maid had left the room
+in the little house in St. Martin's Street, off Leicester Fields. Dr.
+Burney, the music-master, had not to hurry away this day: his first
+lesson did not begin until noon; it was to be given at the mansion of
+Mr. Thrale, the brewer, at Streatham, and the carriage was not to
+call for him for another hour. He was glancing at the _Advertiser_ in
+unaccustomed indolence, but when his wife had spoken he glanced up from
+the paper and an expression of amused surprise was upon his face. His
+daughter Fanny glanced up from the work-basket which her mother had
+placed ready for her the moment that the breakfast-table had been
+cleared, and the expression upon little Miss Burney's face was one that
+had something of fright in it. She was too short-sighted to see the wink
+which her brother James, lieutenant in His Majesty's navy, gave her, for
+their stepmother had her back turned to him. But Mrs. Burney, without
+seeing him, knew that, as he himself would phrase it, he had tipped
+Fanny a wink. She turned quickly round upon him, and if she had
+previously any doubt on this point, it was at once dispelled by the
+solemnity of his face.
+
+Dr. Burney gave a laugh.
+
+"The influence of Mr. Garrick is like that of the air we breathe," said
+he. "It is not to be resisted by the age we live in, leaving family
+matters out of the question altogether: the Burney family must inhale
+as much of the spirit of Mr. Garrick as the rest of the town-they cannot
+help themselves, _ces pauvres Burneys!_ they cannot live without Mr.
+Garrick."
+
+Mrs. Burney shook her head solemnly; so did Lieutenant James Burney, for
+he had all his life been under the influence of Mr. Garrick, when the
+atmosphere brought by Mr. Garrick was one of comedy.
+
+"My meaning is that Mr. Garrick is not content to allow simple people
+such as ourselves to live as simple people," said Mrs. Burney. "I
+protest that I have felt it: the moment he enters our house we seem to
+be in a new world-whatsoever world it is his whim to carry us to."
+
+"That is the truth, my dear-he can do what he pleases with us and with
+all the thousands who have flocked to his playhouse since his Goodman's
+Fields days--he has made a fortune as a courier; transporting people
+to another world for an hour or two every night--a world that is less
+humdrum than this in which four beats go to every bar and every crotchet
+goes to a beat! Dear soul! he has made our hearts beat at times beyond
+all computation of time and space."
+
+"You will herring-bone the edges neatly, Fanny: I noticed some lack of
+neatness in the last of the napery that left your hand, my dear," said
+Mrs. Burney, bending over her stepdaughter at her work-basket; and,
+indeed, it seemed that the caution was not unnecessary, for Fanny's eyes
+were gleaming and she was handling her work with as great indifference
+(for the moment) as though she esteemed plain sewing something of
+drudgery rather than a delight. And now, having administered her timely
+caution, the good lady turned to her husband, saying:
+
+"To my mind what you have claimed for Mr. Garrick but adds emphasis to
+my contention that his visits have a disturbing influence upon a homely
+family, taking them out of themselves, so to speak, and transporting
+them far beyond the useful work of their daily life. I have noticed with
+pain for some time past that Fanny's heart has not been in her work:
+her cross-stitch has been wellnigh slovenly, and her herring-boning has
+really been indifferent--I say it with sorrow; but dear Fanny is too
+good a girl to take offence at my strictures, which she knows are honest
+and meant for her good."
+
+"Madam," said Lieutenant Burney, "I pray you to give me leave to bear
+you out; but at the same time to make excuses for Fan. I must do so in
+justice to her, for the blame rests with me so far as the herring-boning
+is concerned. I confess, with tears in my eyes, that 'twas I who
+provided her with the last models for her herring-boning; and 'twas
+surely some demon in my breast that prompted me to substitute the
+skeleton of one of the South Sea fishes which I hooked when becalmed
+with Captain Cook within sight of Otaheite, for the true herring whose
+backbone is a model of regularity to be followed by all workers with the
+needle, when deprived of the flesh, which is the staple fare of hundreds
+of honest families and, while nourishing them amply, prevents their
+thoughts from carrying them beyond the region pervaded by the smell of
+their cooking."
+
+"That were a wide enough area upon occasions for the most ambitious of
+thinkers," said Dr. Burney, controlling his features, seeing that his
+wife took the ward-room humour of his son with dreadful seriousness.
+He made a sign to James to go no further--but James had gone round the
+world once, and he was not to be checked in a humbler excursion.
+
+"Yes, madam, 'tis my duty to confess that Fanny's model was the
+flying-fish, and not the simple Channel herring, hence the failure to
+achieve the beautiful regularity of design which exists in the backbone
+of the latter from the figurehead to the stern, larboard sloping in one
+direction and starboard in the other. If anyone be culpable 'tis myself,
+not Fanny; but I throw myself on your mercy, and only implore that the
+herring-boning of my sister will not result in a whaling for me."
+
+Mrs. Burney looked seriously from her brother to Fanny, and getting no
+cue from either, began:
+
+"'Tis indeed honourable for you to endeavour by your confession to
+excuse the fault of your sister, James-----"
+
+"The traditions of the service, madam----" began the lieutenant, laying
+his hand on his heart; but he got no further, for Fanny could restrain
+herself no longer; she burst into a laugh and dropped her work, and her
+father rose, holding up his hand.
+
+"The jest has gone far enough, James," he said. "We sleep in beds in
+this house and do not swing in hammocks. Keep your deep-sea jests until
+you are out of soundings, if it please you."
+
+"I ask your pardon, sir," said James; "but i' faith there's many a
+true word said in jest; and it seems to me that there's a moral in the
+parable of the young woman who took the flying-fish of the South Seas
+for her model rather than the herring of the three-fathom coast-line of
+the Channel; and that moral touches close upon the complaint made by our
+good mother against Mr. Garrick."
+
+"Let it be so," said Mrs. Burney, who was a clever enough woman to
+perceive that it would be unwise to make a grievance of the impudence
+of a young naval gentleman. "Let it be so; let it be that we are
+simple, homely, wholesome herrings, we are none the better for such a
+flying-fish as Mr. Garrick coming among us, giving us, it may be, the
+notion that our poor fins are wings, and so urging us to make fools of
+ourselves by emulating the eagle. The moral of your fable is that we
+should keep to our own element--is not that so, sir?"
+
+"I' faith, madam, I am not sure but that 'tis so, and I haul down my
+colours to you, and feel no dishonour in the act," cried James. "Lord,
+where should we all be to-day if it were not for the good women who
+hold fast to the old traditions of the distaff and needle? They are the
+women who do more for the happiness of men than all who pass their time
+dipping quills in ink-horns or daubing paint upon good canvas that might
+with luck be hung from a stunsail boom and add another knot to the log
+of a frigate of seventy-two! Is there anyone who dines at the table of
+Sir Joshua Reynolds round the corner that does not wish with all his
+heart that his sister would sell her palette and buy a wine-glass or two
+with the proceeds? Why, when we went to dinner at Sir Joshua's yesterday
+there were not enough glasses to go round the table."
+
+"There never are--that is well known," said Mrs. Burney.
+
+"Nay, nay; let us take to ourselves the reproof of Dr. Johnson to Mr.
+Boswell when he complained, loud enough almost for Sir Joshua himself to
+hear him, about the scarcity of service. 'Sir,' said Dr. Johnson, 'some
+who have the privilege of sitting at this table, and you are one of
+them, sir, will be wiser if they keep their ears open and their mouths
+shut than they would if they had the means of drinking all that you are
+longing to drink.'"
+
+"Mr. Boswell, in spite of the reproof, contrived to lurch from the table
+with more wine than wisdom 'tween decks," remarked James.
+
+"He must have found a wine-glass," said Miss Susy Burney, who had been
+quite silent but quite attentive to every word that had been spoken
+since breakfast-time.
+
+"And so the honour of Mrs. Reynolds's housekeeping is saved," said Dr.
+Burney.
+
+"Nay, sir, is not Mr. Boswell a Scotsman?" cried the irrepressible
+James.
+
+"That is his lifelong sorrow, since he fancies it to be an insuperable
+barrier between his idol, Dr. Johnson, and himself," replied his father.
+"But how does his Scotsmanship bear upon the wine-glass question?"
+
+"Ah, sir, without being versed in the subtleties of theology I make bold
+to think that Father Adam did not suffer hunger until knives and forks
+were invented," said James. "Your drouthy Scot will drink straight from
+the bottle if no beaker be at hand. Oh, why was not Mr. Garrick at Sir
+Joshua's to rouse our spirits by his imitation of Mr. Boswell seeking
+for a wine-glass--and after?"
+
+"Mr. Boswell is too trivial a subject for Davy: I have seen him take off
+Dr. Johnson mixing a bowl of punch until I was like to die of laughter.
+I protest that when he came to the squeezing of the imaginary lemon,
+while he cried out in the Doctor's broadest Lichfield, 'Who's for
+poonch?' I could smell the acid juice," said Dr. Burney, and he laughed
+at the recollection of Garrick's fooling.
+
+The naval man gave a resounding nautical smack to his thigh.
+
+"That is what 'tis to be a sailor," he cried. "I have had no chance of
+seeing Mr. Garrick at his best. I should dearly like to hear him take
+off Mr. Boswell when three sheets in the wind. Why was he not with us
+yesterday?"
+
+"Mr. Garrick himself has had a drinking bout on. He has been at the
+Wells for the past fortnight," said his father.
+
+"_Ecce signum!_" came a doleful voice from the door, and a little man
+slowly put round the jamb a face bearing such an expression of
+piteous nausea as caused everyone in the room--not even excepting Mrs.
+Burney--to roar with laughter--uncontrollable laughter.
+
+Then the expression on the little man's face changed to one of surprised
+indignation. He crept into the room and looked at every person therein
+with a different expression on his face for each--a variation of his
+original expression of disgust and disappointment mingled with doleful
+reproof. It seemed as if it was not a single person who had entered the
+room, but half a dozen persons--a whole doleful and disappointed family
+coming upon an unsympathetic crew convulsed with hilarity.
+
+And then he shook his head sadly.
+
+"And these are the people who have just heard that I have been taking
+the nauseous waters of Tunbridge Wells for a whole fortnight," and there
+was a break in his voice. "Oh, Friendship, art thou but a name? Oh,
+Sympathy, art thou but a mask? Is the world of sentiment nothing more
+than a world of shadows? Have all the sweet springs of compassion dried
+up, leaving us nothing but the cataracts of chalybeate to nauseate the
+palate?"
+
+He looked round once more, and putting the tips of his fingers together,
+glanced sadly up to the ceiling, then sighed and turned as if to leave
+the room.
+
+"Nay, sir," cried Dr. Burney, "I do not believe that the chalybeate
+cataracts still flow: 'tis my firm belief, from the expression of your
+face, that you have swallowed the whole spring--the Wells of Tunbridge
+must have been dried up by you before you left--your face betrays you.
+I vow that so chalybeate an expression could not be attained by lesser
+means."
+
+"Sir, you do me honour, and you have a larger faith in me than my own
+physician," said the little man, brightening up somewhat. "Would you
+believe that he had the effrontery to accuse me of shirking the hourly
+pailful that he prescribed for me?"
+
+"He had not seen you as we have, Mr. Garrick," said Dr. Burney.
+
+"He accused me of spending my days making matches and making mischief
+in the Assembly Rooms and only taking the waters by sips--me, sir, that
+have so vivid a memory of Mr. Pope's immortal lines:=
+
+```A little sipping is a dangerous tiling,
+
+```Drink deep or taste not the chalybeate spring!"=
+
+"You were traduced, my friend--but tell us of the matches and the
+mischief and we shall be the more firmly convinced of your integrity."
+
+"Nay, sir; I give you my word that 'twas but the simplest of
+matches--not by any means of the sort that yonder desperado fresh
+from the South Seas applies to the touch-hole of one of his horrible
+ten-pounders when the enemy's frigate has to be sunk--nay, a simple
+little match with no more powder for it to burn than may be found on
+the wig of a gentleman of fifty-two and on the face of a lady of
+forty-five--the one a gay bachelor, t'other a ripe widow--' made for one
+another,' said I; and where was the mischief in that? And if I ventured
+to broach the subject of the appropriateness of the union of the twain,
+and to boast under the inspiring influence of the chalybeate spring that
+I could bring it about, is there anyone that will hint that I was not
+acting out of pure good nature and a desire to make two worthy folk
+happy--as happy as marriage can make any two-----"
+
+"Give us their names, sir, and let us judge on that basis," said Dr.
+Bumey.
+
+"I have no desire to withhold them, my dear Doctor; for I want you to
+back me up, and I am sure that--oh, Lord! here comes the man himself.
+For the love of heaven, back me up, Doctor, and all will be well."
+
+"Nay, I will not be dragged by the hair of the head into any of your
+plots, my friend," cried Burney. "Nay, not I. I have some reputation to
+maintain, good friend Garrick; you must play alone the part of Puck that
+you have chosen for yourself this many a year. Think not that you will
+induce me to study the character under you, and so thus-----"
+
+The manservant threw open the door of the room, announcing:
+
+"Mr. Kendal to wait upon you, sir."
+
+But by the time a small and rather rotund gentleman had been ushered
+into the room, Mr. Garrick was apparently engaged in an animated
+conversation with Miss Burney on the subject of the table-cover at which
+she was working.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+|THE visitor walked with the short strut of the man who at least does
+not underrate his own importance in the world. But he suggested just
+at the moment the man who is extremely nervous lest he may not appear
+perfectly selfpossessed. There was an air of bustle about him as he
+strutted into the room, saying:
+
+"Dr. Burney, I am your servant, sir. I have done myself the honour to
+visit you on a rather important piece of business."
+
+"Sir, you have conferred honour upon me," said Dr. Burney.
+
+Then the gentleman seemed to become aware for the first time that there
+were other people in the room; but it was with an air of reluctance that
+he felt called on to greet the others.
+
+"Mrs. Burney, I think," he said, bowing to that lady, "and her estimable
+family, I doubt not. Have I not had the privilege of meeting Mrs. Burney
+at the house of--of my friend--my esteemed friend, Mrs. Barlowe? And
+this gentleman of the Fleet--ha, to be sure I have heard that there was
+a Lieutenant Burney of the Navy! And--gracious heavens! Mr. Garrick!"
+
+Mr. Garrick had revealed himself from the recesses of Miss Burney's
+work-basket. He, at any rate, was sufficiently self-possessed to pretend
+to be vastly surprised. He raised both his hands, crying:
+
+"Is it possible that this is Mr. Kendal? But surely I left you at the
+Wells no later than--now was it not the night before last? You were the
+cynosure of the Assembly Rooms, sir, if I may make bold to say so. But
+I could not look for you to pay attention to a poor actor when you were
+receiving the attentions of the young, and, may I add without offence,
+the fair? But no, sir; you will not find that I am the one to tell tales
+out of school, though I doubt not you have received the congratulations
+of----"
+
+"There you go, sir, just the same as the rest of them!" cried the
+visitor. "Congratulations! felicitations! smiles of deep meaning
+from the ladies, digs in the ribs with suggestive winks from the
+gentlemen--people whose names I could not recall--whom I'll swear I had
+never spoken to in my life--that is why I left the Wells as hastily as
+if a tipstaff had been after me--that is why I am here this morning,
+after posting every inch of the way, to consult Dr. Burney as to my
+position."
+
+"I protest, sir, that I do not quite take you," said Mr. Garrick, with
+the most puzzled expression on his face that ever man wore. "Surely,
+sir, your position as a man of honour is the most enviable one possible
+to imagine! Mrs. Nash----"
+
+"There you blurt out the name, Mr. Garrick, and that is what I had no
+intention of doing, even when laying my case before Dr. Burney, who is
+a man of the world, and whom I trust to advise me what course I should
+pursue."
+
+"I ask your pardon, sir," said Mr. Garrick humbly; "but if the course
+you mean to pursue has aught to do with the pursuit of so charming a
+lady, and a widow to boot----"
+
+"How in the name of all that's reasonable did that gossip get about?"
+cried the visitor. "I give you my word that I have not been pursuing the
+lady--I met her at the Wells for the first time a fortnight ago--pursuit
+indeed!"
+
+"Nay, sir, I did not suggest that the pursuit was on your part," said
+Garrick in a tone of irresistible flattery. "But 'tis well known that as
+an object of pursuit of the fair ones, the name of Mr. Kendal has been
+for ten years past acknowledged without a peer."
+
+The gentleman held up a deprecating hand, but the smile that was on his
+face more than neutralized his suggestion.
+
+"Nay, Mr. Garrick, I am but a simple country gentleman," he cried. "To
+be sure, I have been singled out more than once for favours that might
+have turned the head of an ordinary mortal--one of them had a fortune
+and was the toast of the district; another----"
+
+"If you will excuse me, gentlemen, the Miss Burneys and myself will take
+our leave of you: we have household matters in our hands," said Mrs.
+Burney, making a sign to Fanny and her sister, and going toward the
+door.
+
+"Have I said too much, madam? If so, I pray of you to keep my secret,"
+cried the visitor. "The truth is that I have confidence in the advice of
+Dr. Burney as a man of the world."
+
+"I fear that to be a man of the world is to be of the flesh and the
+devil as well," said Dr. Burney.
+
+"Augmented qualifications for giving advice on an affair of the Wells,"
+said Garrick slyly to the naval lieutenant.
+
+"You will not forget, Doctor, that Mr. Thrale's carriage is appointed to
+call for you within the hour," said Mrs. Burney over her shoulder as she
+left the room.
+
+Fanny and her sister were able to restrain themselves for the few
+minutes necessary to fly up the narrow stairs, but the droll glance that
+Mr. Garrick had given them as they followed their mother, wellnigh made
+them disgrace themselves by bursting out within the hearing of their
+father's visitor. But when they reached the parlour at the head of the
+stairs and had thrown themselves in a paroxysm of laughter on the sofa,
+Mrs. Burney reproved them with some gravity.
+
+"This is an instance, if one were needed, of the unsettling influence of
+Mr. Garrick," she said. "He has plainly been making a fool of that
+conceited gentleman, and it seems quite likely that he will persuade your
+father to back him up."
+
+"I do not think that Mr. Garrick could improve greatly upon Nature's
+handiwork in regard to that poor Mr. Kendal," said Fanny. "But what
+would life be without Mr. Garrick?"
+
+"It would be more real, I trust," said her stepmother. "He would have
+us believe that life is a comedy, and that human beings are like the
+puppets which Mr. Foote put on his stage for the diversion of the town a
+few years ago."
+
+Fanny Burney became grave; the longer she was living in the world,
+the more impressed was she becoming with the idea that life was a
+puppet-show; only when the puppets began to dance on their wires in a
+draught of wind from another world the real comedy began. She felt that
+as an interpreter of life Mr. Garrick had no equal on the stage or off.
+On the stage he could do no more than interpret other people's notions
+of life, and these, except in the case of Shakespeare, were, she
+thought, mostly feeble; but when he was off the stage--well, Sir Joshua
+Reynolds had told her what that queer person, Dr. Goldsmith, had written
+about Garrick--the truest criticism Garrick had ever received: "'Twas
+only that when he was off he was acting." She knew what she herself owed
+to Garrick from the time she was nine years old, when he had accustomed
+her and her sister to look for him at their house almost daily; she knew
+that whatever sense of comedy she possessed--and she looked on it as
+a precious possession--was to be attributed to the visits of Garrick.
+Every time she looked at her carefully locked desk in that room at the
+top of the house in St. Martin's Street, which had once been Sir Isaac
+Newton's observatory, she felt that without the tuition in comedy that
+she had received at the hands of Mr. Garrick, the contents of that
+desk would have been very different. Her stepmother, however, had no
+information on this point; she had lived all her life among the good
+tradespeople of Lynn, and had known nothing of Mr. Garrick until Dr.
+Burney had married her and brought her to look after his children, which
+Fanny knew she had done faithfully, according to her lights, in London.
+
+Fanny kept silent on the subject of Mr. Garrick's fooling, while Mrs.
+Burney bent with great gravity over the cutting out of a pinafore for
+Fanny's little niece--also a Burney; and every now and again there came
+from the closed room downstairs the sound of the insisting voice of the
+visitor. She hoped that Mr. Garrick would re-enact the scene for her;
+she had confidence that it would lose nothing by its being re-enacted by
+Mr. Garrick.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+|I SUPPOSE that I must e'en follow in the wake of the womenkind," said
+Lieutenant Burney, making an extremely slow move in the direction of the
+door, when the door had been closed upon his stepmother and his sisters.
+
+"Is there any need?" asked Garrick. "It seems to me that in such a
+case as this which Mr. Kendal promises to propound to your father, His
+Majesty's Navy should be represented. In all matters bearing upon a
+delicate _affaire de cour_ surely a naval man should be present to act
+as assessor."
+
+'Mr. Kendal looked puzzled.
+
+"I fail to take your meaning, sir," said he, after a pause; he was still
+rubbing his chin with a fore-finger, when Garrick cried:
+
+"Oh, sir, surely the advantage of the counsel of an officer trained to
+navigate femininity in the shape of a ship, is apparent: a ship, even
+though a three-decker ready to fire a broadside of a hundred guns, is
+invariably alluded to as 'she,'" said he, airily.
+
+"Such an one must surely be the most formidable piece of femininity in
+the world," said Mr. Kendal.
+
+"By no means," said Garrick. "During my career as the manager of a
+playhouse I have had to face worse. Still, the training of a naval
+officer in dealing with feminine craft--at times off a lee shore, and
+often during a storm at sea--nothing to be compared to the tempests in
+our green-room--is certain to be of value. You will stay, Lieutenant
+Burney, if it please you."
+
+"I should be most unwilling to obtrude upon your council, sir," said
+young Burney, "unless you are convinced that my humble services----"
+
+"You have been among the savages of the South Seas, and you are
+acquainted with all the rules of chasing and capturing prizes, all
+of the feminine gender--I allude to your sloops and frigates and
+catamarans--I take it for granted that a catamaran is as feminine in its
+ways as any wherry that floats," cried Garrick. Then he turned to their
+visitor, who was looking more puzzled than ever.
+
+"You may reckon yourself fortunate in the presence of our young friend,
+sir," he said. "So far as I can gather this is a case of chase, with
+a possible capture of a prize. I venture to think that in these days a
+gentleman of family and fortune, like yourself, is something of a prize,
+Mr. Kendal." This was language that contained nothing to puzzle anyone,
+the visitor perceived. His face brightened, and he waved young Burney to
+a seat.
+
+"I take it that Mr. Garrick knows what he is talking about," he said.
+"And though it was truly your father to whom I came for counsel, I
+doubt not that you will take my part, should the worst come to the
+worst."
+
+"Which means, should the lady come to the gentleman, Mr. Burney," said
+Garrick.
+
+"Pay out your yarn, sir: I gather that you are still to the windward of
+your enemy, and that is the position which the books tell us we should
+manoeuvre for," cried the nautical assessor.
+
+Dr. Burney sat silently by, he had no mind to join in the fooling of
+the others. Dr. Burney had never in his life lost a sense of his own
+dignity. He had been a church organist for thirty years, and no man
+who has had such an experience of the control of an instrument of such
+superlative dignity could be otherwise than dignified. He had never
+once run off on a keyboard a single phrase of "The Beggar's Opera." Even
+Handel's "Ruddier than the Cherry," with Mr. Gay's ticklish rhymed
+line about "Kidlings blithe and merry," he only played apologetically,
+allowing it to be clearly understood that Mr. Handel and Mr. Gay divided
+between them the responsibility for so frivolous a measure.
+
+He remained dignified and silent while Garrick and James carried on
+their fooling. Only a short time before he had occasion to reprove the
+lack of dignity on the part of his important patroness, Mrs. Thrale, the
+wife of the wealthy brewer, in having put herself behind Signor Piozzi
+while he was singing a sentimental canzone and mimicked his southern
+fervour of expression. Mrs. Thrale had taken his reproof in good part
+at the time; but no one--least of all Mrs. Thrale herself--could have
+foreseen that her contrition should extend so far as to cause her to
+marry the singer on the death of Mr. Thrale.
+
+"To be brief, sir," said Mr. Kendal, addressing, not Dr. Burney, whom he
+had come to consult, but Mr. Garrick, who had shown himself to be much
+more sympathetic. "To be brief, I had gone to the Wells as my custom has
+been for the past twenty years. I went honestly to drink the waters, not
+making it an excuse, as so many do, for indulging in the gaieties, or, I
+may add, the intrigues, of the Assembly Rooms. I was civil, as I hoped,
+to everyone, but, I give you my word, no more so to Mrs. Nash than any
+other lady."
+
+"I do not doubt that you believe this, sir," said Garrick, with an
+indulgent wave of the hand; "but when a lady has eyes only for one
+gentleman, she is apt to place a construction upon the simplest of
+his civilities beyond that assigned to it by ordinary people; but pray
+proceed, sir. I will only add that it was quite well known at the Wells
+that the lady regarded you with the tenderest of emotions. Had she not
+boldly said to Lady-------- no; I dare not mention her name; but her
+ladyship is invariably what the Italians term _simpatica_ in regard to
+the tender affairs of her sisters--and it was to her that Mrs. Nash
+confided her secret--referring to you as bearing a striking resemblance
+to the Apollo Belvedere, hoping that her doing so would not cause anyone
+to accuse her of Pagan leanings."
+
+"Is it possible! The poor lady! poor lady! But I was not to blame. I
+can justly acquit myself of all blame in this unhappy affair," said Mr.
+Kendal.
+
+"You are quite right, sir; is it a man's fault that he should bear a
+striking likeness to the Apollo--I doubt not that the resemblance has
+caused you some annoyance at various times of your life, Mr. Kendal,"
+said Garrick.
+
+"Never, sir, never--at least----" he took a step to one side that
+allowed of his having a full-length view of his reflection in the narrow
+mirror that filled up the space between the windows; and the result of
+his scrutiny of the picture was certainly not displeasing to him. He
+boldly put forward a leg, and then quite unconscious, as anyone could
+see, struck an attitude, though not quite that of the Apollo Belvedere.
+Then he smirked.
+
+"A leg like yours, Mr. Kendal, to say nothing of the poise of your
+head, is a great responsibility," said Garrick seriously. "The poor
+lady!--poor ladies!--I confess that I have heard of others. And she
+acknowledged to you that--that--oh, that most delicate of secrets!"
+
+"Never to me, sir--never in my hearing, I give you my word," cried
+the man emphatically. "Nay, I did not so much as suspect it. The
+first intimation that I had of the matter was when, on Monday morning
+last--only three days ago--Captain Kelly--the boisterous Irishman--clapt
+me on the shoulder and almost shouted out his congratulations in my
+ear. When I forced him to mention the name of the lady, he ridiculed my
+denial--his forefinger in my ribs--painful as well as undignified. Who
+is Captain Kelly, that he should subject me to his familiarities? But
+if he was undignified, I flatter myself that I was not so. 'Sir, you
+presume,' I said, and walked on, leaving this vulgar fellow roaring with
+laughter."
+
+"Psha! Kelly is a nobody," said Garrick. "You should not have allowed
+yourself to be discomposed by such as he."
+
+"Nor did I," cried the other. "But what was I to think when I had
+advanced no more than a dozen paces, and found my hand grasped warmly
+by Sir John Dingle?--you know him, Mr. Garrick--I have seen him in
+your company--more congratulations--the same attitude, sir. And then
+up marches Mr. Sheridan--leaving his handsome wife--ah, I fear that I
+joined with all Bath in being in love with the lovely Miss Linley--and
+Mr. Sheridan was wellnigh affronted at my denial. But that was not all.
+Up comes Mrs. Cholmondeley in her chair and tapped for the men to set
+her down when she saw me--up went the roof and up went her head, with
+a shrill cry of 'Kendal, you rogue! to tell everyone at the Wells save
+only myself that Benedick is to be a married man!' And before she had
+finished her ridicule of my denial, up struts Mrs. Thrale, her footman
+behind her with her spaniel, and down she sinks in a curtsey, fitted
+only for a special night in the Rooms, and her 'Happy man!' came with a
+flick of her fan; and she, too, named Mrs. Nash! And that was not the
+last--I saw them hurrying up to me from all sides--ladies with smiles,
+and gentlemen with smirks--fingers twitching for my ribs--down they
+flowed upon me! I ask you, Lieutenant Burney, as a naval gentleman, and
+I am glad to have the opportunity of hearing your opinion--I ask you, if
+I was not justified in turning about and hastening away--what you
+nautical gentlemen term 'cutting my cable '?"
+
+"Indeed, sir; if I could believe that you gave the lady no
+encouragement, I would say that--that--but no one will convince me that
+upon some occasion--it may be forgotten by you--such men of fashion as
+yourself soon forget these things, I have heard, though the unhappy lady
+treasures them as golden memories--I say upon some occasion you may have
+given the Widow Nash encouragement. You have your reputation as a sly
+rogue to maintain, Mr. Kendal," said young Burney gravely, as though he
+were a lawyer being seriously consulted.
+
+"Fore Gad, sir, I gave her no encouragement," cried Mr. Kendal. "I have
+ever been most cautious, I swear."
+
+"Then the greater shame for you, sir," said Garrick.
+
+The man whom he addressed looked in amazement first at Garrick, then at
+Lieutenant Burney--Dr. Burney, whom he had come to consult, was smiling
+quite unnoticed in a corner. His part, apparently, was no more than that
+of the looker-on at a comedy. His presence was ignored by the others.
+
+"The more shame--the more----" began the visitor. "I protest that I
+scarcely take your meaning, Mr. Garrick."
+
+"My meaning is plain, sir," said Garrick firmly, almost sternly. "I
+affirm that it lay with you, when you perceived that the lady was so
+deeply enamoured of you----"
+
+"But I did not perceive it--you have my word for it."
+
+"Ah, sir," said Garrick, with the shrug of a Frenchman, which he had
+studied for some months in Paris--Mr. Garrick and Lord Chesterfield
+had alone mastered the art. "Ah, sir, we are all men of the world here.
+'Twere idle for you to pretend that a gentleman with the figure of the
+Belvedere Apollo and the leg of--of----" he turned to young Burney-- "You
+have seen the proud-stepping figure-heads of many ships of the line, Mr.
+Burney," he said; "prithee help me out in my search for--for--the name I
+am in search of."
+
+"H'm, let me see--something wooden with a leg to be proud of?" said the
+naval gentleman, considering the matter very earnestly.
+
+"Zounds, sir, I did not make it a condition that it should be a wooden
+leg," cried Garrick.
+
+"I have seen more than one Admiral of the Fleet mighty proud of a wooden
+leg, sir," said Burney. "But this is beside the question, which I
+take to be the responsibility of our good friend here--I hope I don't
+presume, Mr. Kendal--for kindling, albeit unconsciously, so far as he
+was concerned--that sacred flame in the breast of--to name only one out
+of a score--the lady whose name he mentioned."
+
+"You are with me heart and soul, as I felt sure you would be, Mr.
+Burney; as a naval officer of judgment and experience," cried Garrick,
+"and so, sir--" he turned to their visitor-- "I cannot doubt that you
+will comport yourself as a gentleman of honour in this affair. Do not
+allow your yielding to the natural impulse to run away to weigh too
+heavily upon you. If your act should cause you to be referred to with
+reprobation, not to say scorn, by the ladies or gentlemen of fashion who
+are certain to espouse the cause of the lady, your subsequent conduct
+will show them that they mistook your character. And I promise you that
+should you receive a challenge from any of the lady's admirers--those
+whose prayers she rejected because her heart was set on a gentleman who
+was worthy of her choice--I think you can afford to ignore them, having
+won the prize. Ah, sir, is there not a poet who says that every man that
+lives has a good angel and a bad one contending for dominion over him?
+That is the truth, Mr. Kendal, and I see that your good angel is none
+other than the lady whose name I reckon too sacred to pass our lips at
+such a time as this. Ah, sir, think of her, and let your mind go back to
+the days of your happy boyhood, and say if the mother at whose knees you
+knelt did not resemble her. The affection of a son for his mother--let
+that plead for the lady who esteems you with more than a mother's love."
+
+He had laid his hand on the poor gentleman's shoulder, and was looking
+into his face, while the tears stood in his eyes, and his voice broke
+more than once.
+
+And there sat Dr. Burney wiping his eyes, and Lieutenant Burney
+blubbering away like any child--the two accessories to the actor's
+farce could not avoid yielding to the-influence of his unparalleled art.
+Though they were in his secret, he made fools of them as easily as he
+made a fool of the poor gentleman who was presumably his victim. And
+they had no feeling of being ashamed of yielding to his powers. He could
+do anything that he pleased with them. He could do anything he pleased
+with the multitudes before whom he acted. He was the master of their
+emotions for the time being. He played upon their passions as though
+every passion was a puppet and the strings in his own hands.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+|THE scene ended by Mr. Garrick's victim groping through his tears
+for Mr. Garrick's hand. He grasped it emotionally, and though for some
+moments he was too greatly overcome to be able to utter a word, yet at
+last he managed to blurt out with affecting incoherence a few phrases.
+
+"Say no more--say no more, sir," he muttered. "I have a heart--a
+heart! I give you my word, whether you believe me or not, that I had no
+notion--but you have shown me what 'tis to be a woman. Oh, sir, there
+is no sweeter sex in the world! Deception! how a man's own heart may
+deceive him--ay, up to a certain point--but then--ah, you have taught
+me--but are you sure that the lady--what--have we not been going ahead
+too fast? What--what; are you convinced?"
+
+"You may take my word for it, sir," replied Garrick. "There are signs
+that all who run may read. What, do you suppose that all those persons
+of quality whose names you mentioned just now as having offered you
+their felicitations--do you suppose that they could all be in error?"
+
+"Of course not--they must have seen--well, more than I saw," said the
+man. "Matrimony! Lud! if an angel had come down to tell me that I should
+be contemplating such a change of life--and at my time of life too!--I
+should have----"
+
+"What an angel may fail to convince a man of, a woman may succeed in
+doing, Mr. Kendal," said Garrick sententiously. "But do not talk of your
+time of life as if you were an old or even a middle-aged man, sir. To do
+so were to make Dr. Burney and myself feel patriarchs."
+
+The mention of Dr. Burney seemed to cause the man to recollect how it
+was he came to be in Dr. Burney's house. He turned to Burney, saying:
+
+"Dear sir, I pray that you will look on my visit with lenient eyes.
+I admit that I came hitherto be advised by you--my friend, Mr. Fulke
+Greville, holds your opinion in the highest esteem, as do I, sir; and it
+was actually on my mind to ask you if you thought it would be wiser for
+me to go abroad for a year or two, or simply to seek some place of
+retirement at home--say, Cornwall or the Hebrides--I gather from the
+account of Dr. Johnson's tour thither that there are many places
+difficult of access in the Hebrides--that was on my mind, Doctor, I
+blush to acknowledge, so greatly overcome was I by what had happened at
+the Wells."
+
+"Ah, with what great ease a man may slam the door that shuts out
+happiness from his life for evermore!" remarked Garrick.
+
+"Even now--even now I feel timid," said Mr. Kendal thoughtfully, and,
+when he had found which pocket his handkerchief was in, wiping some dew
+from his brow. "The truth is, Doctor, that I have allowed some people to
+assume that I am but forty-seven years old, while as a matter of fact I
+have been forty-eight for some time."
+
+"For some years?" asked young Burney, who did not know when he should
+keep silence.
+
+"For some months, sir--only for some months, I give you my word."
+
+"Your deception in this matter could only have added to your reputation
+for accuracy," said Garrick coolly. "For I vow that were you to confess
+that you were forty-eight, you would find none to believe you."
+
+The gentleman's eyes twinkled, he pursed out his lips, and once again
+manoeuvred to get a full-length view of himself in the long mirror.
+He put out his right leg and assumed the attitude of a dancing master
+giving the _pas_ for the _minuet de cour_.
+
+"Well, well," he cried, "if that be your opinion--and I happen to
+know that 'tis shared by others--it might not be unwise to allow the
+assumption, erroneous though it be, to continue. We will not undeceive
+the good folk. And you do not think that a bachelor of forty-eight--What
+is the name of that play of Mr. Sheridan's that took the town a year
+ago?--ah, _The School for Scandal_--you are sure that our friends will
+not call me--What was the gentleman's name?"
+
+"No one who knows how excellent are your principles will think of you
+either as Charles or Joseph, Mr. Kendal," said Garrick.
+
+"No, no; but the one who was in my mind was neither of the brothers. I
+was thinking of--was it not Sir Peter Teazle?"
+
+Garrick as well as Burney laughed heartily, for the man at that moment
+suggested by his attitude and expression the Sir Peter Teazle of Kina,
+the actor.
+
+"Make your mind easy on that score, sir," said Dr. Burney. "It is not
+your purpose to wed so skittish a young person as Lady Teazle. That was
+where Sir Peter showed his folly."
+
+"No, no; Mrs. Nash is more mature, certainly, than Mrs. Abington looked
+in the part," said Mr. Kendal confidently, and Lieutenant Burney was
+about to agree with him boisterously, but Garrick did not give him a
+chance.
+
+"There is none that will not commend your choice, Mr. Kendal--ay, sir,
+and look on you with envy as well," he cried.
+
+"There can be no doubt about it," said Mr. Kendal doubtfully. "The widow
+Nash is a monstrous fine woman."
+
+"Monstrous, I doubt not," put in young Burney, now that he had the
+chance.
+
+"All that I am uneasy about is the interpretation that she may put upon
+your sudden flight," said Garrick. "You have, you will readily allow,
+sir, placed her in a somewhat difficult position at the Wells. While
+everyone who is anyone has been offering you congratulations upon the
+match, and a double portion to the lady, strange inquiries may be made
+as to your disappearance from the Wells; and she may not be able to give
+a satisfactory explanation at a moment's notice."
+
+"Egad! I never thought of that, sir," said Mr. Kendal, after a pause. "I
+fear that I have placed her in a very awkward position."
+
+"Ay, sir; and the consequences may be that she will be snapped up by
+some adventurous person before you can put your fate to the test,"
+said the naval man, raising a warning finger. "I have heard of ladies
+throwing themselves into the arms of the next comer out of sheer chagrin
+at being disappointed by the man on whom they had set their affections."
+
+"That is a possibility that should not be neglected," said Garrick.
+"But it was only on Monday that you fled. By rapid posting you may yet
+prevent such a calamity."
+
+He was beginning to tire of his game now that he had succeeded so
+well in it and so easily. The fooling of the man who had so completely
+succumbed to his art had no further interest for him. He only wanted to
+get rid of him. He was as capricious and as fickle as a child over the
+toys of its nursery.
+
+"I shall lose no moment, be assured," said Mr. Kendal. "I may still be
+in time. My hope in this direction is increased when I remember that
+the lady has been a widow for some years--to be exact, without being
+uncomplimentary, nine years. I remember when Mr. Nash died. 'Twas of
+pleurisy."
+
+"Do not reckon too confidently on that, sir," said young Burney. "Nine
+years have not passed since she faced the company at the Wells, every
+one of which was surely pointing at her and asking in mute eloquence,
+'What has become of Mr. Kendal?' But by posting without delay you may
+yet retrieve your error. Still, I confess to you that I have known of a
+lady who, out of sheer impatience at the delay of a lover whom she
+had hoped to espouse, married his rival after the lapse of twenty-four
+hours--ay, and when the belated gentleman arrived just after the
+ceremony, he furnished the wedding party with a succulent feast. She
+was the Queen of one of the islands that we visited in the company of
+Captain Cook, and the cockswain of our galley kept the pickled hand of
+the belated lover for many a day--the very hand which he had designed to
+offer the lady."
+
+"This simple and affecting narrative proves more eloquently than any
+phrases of mine could possibly do how a man may miss the happiness of
+his life by a hair's breadth," said Garrick. "And the lesson will not be
+lost upon you, I am certain, sir."
+
+"Lud, Mr. Garrick, you do not mean to suggest that----"
+
+"That the lady may make a meal off you on your late return, sir? Nay,
+Mr. Kendal. The Wells are still the Wells, not the South Seas; but on
+the whole I am disposed to believe that the scheme of revenge of
+the woman scorned is fiercer, though perhaps not, at first sight, so
+primeval, in the region of Chalybeate Waters than in a cannibal island
+of the South Seas. Therefore--there is no time to be lost. Fly to your
+charmer, sir, and throw yourself at her feet. She may be thinking over
+some punishment for your having placed her in a false position for some
+days; but do not mind that. You can always console yourself with the
+reflection that a rod in pickle is much more satisfactory than a hand in
+pickle. Fly, my dear friend, fly; every moment is precious. Take my word
+for it, joy awaits you at the end of your journey."
+
+"'Journeys end in lovers meeting,'" remarked Dr. Burney, with a slight
+suggestion of the setting of the words of the lyric by his old master,
+Dr. Arne.
+
+At this moment a servant entered the room.
+
+"The Streatham carriage is at the door, sir," he announced.
+
+Dr. Burney rose from his chair.
+
+"I am forced to leave you, sir," he said to Mr. Kendal. "But really
+there is naught further to consult on at present, and I know that you
+are impatient--it is but natural--to fly to the side of your charmer."
+
+"I am all impatience, sir; but with what words can I express my
+obligation to you, Doctor, for the benefit of your counsel?" cried Mr.
+Kendal.
+
+Dr. Burney smiled.
+
+"Nay, dear sir, I am but the lessee of the theatre where the comedy has
+been played," said he; and he had good reason for feeling that he had
+defined with accuracy the position that he occupied. But Mr. Kendal
+was thinking too much about himself and the position he occupied to
+appreciate such _nuances_.
+
+"I knew that I was safe in coming to a friend of Mr. Greville," he said.
+"I care not if, as you suggest, you have become Mr. Garrick's successor
+at Drury Lane, though I thought that Mr. Sheridan----"
+
+"Zounds, sir, you are never going to wait to discuss theatre matters,"
+cried Garrick. "Dr. Burney has been exercising his powers of oratory in
+vain upon you for this half hour if you tarry even to thank him. Post,
+sir, post at once to Tunbridge Wells, and send Dr. Burney your thanks
+when you have put the momentous question to the lady. Go, sir, without
+the pause of a moment, and good luck attend you."
+
+"Good luck attend you! Keep up your heart, sir: the lady may refuse
+you after all," said young Burney; but the poor gentleman who was being
+hurried away was too much flurried to be able to grasp the young man's
+innuendo, though one could see by the look that came to his face that
+he had an uneasy impression that Lieutenant Burney's good wishes had not
+been happily expressed. The great thing, however, was that he was at
+the other side of the door, calling out his obligations to everyone,
+and striving to shake hands with them all at once and yet preserve the
+security of his hat, which he had tucked under his arm. So excited was
+he that he was only restrained at the last moment from mounting the
+Thrales' carriage which was awaiting Dr. Burney, and even when his
+mistake was explained to him, he took off his hat to the splendid
+footman who had guarded the door of the vehicle.
+
+In the room where the comedy had been played, Garrick and Lieutenant
+Burney had thrown themselves into chairs with roars of laughter, when
+Dr. Burney returned from the hall, carrying his hat and cane. He was
+scarcely smiling.
+
+"You have played a pretty prank upon an inoffensive gentleman, the pair
+of you!" said he. "I am ashamed that my house has been used by you for
+so base a purpose! The poor gentleman!"
+
+"Psha! my dear Doctor, make your mind easy; the lady will teach that
+coxcomb a lesson that will be of advantage to him for the rest of his
+life," said Garrick. "He has been the laughingstock of the Wells for the
+past fortnight, and no one laughed louder than the Widow Nash. She will
+bundle him out of her presence before he has had time to rise from his
+marrow-bones--he does not find the process a rapid one, I assure you.
+Oh, he was her _bete noire_ even when he was most civil to her."
+
+"And it was you who concocted that plot of getting all your
+friends--Mrs. Cholmondeley, Mrs. Thrale and the rest--to make a fool of
+him, driving him away from the Wells to encounter a more irresistible
+pair of mocking demons in this room!" said Burney. "You cannot deny it,
+my friend, I know your tricks but too well."
+
+"I swear to you that I had no hope of encountering him in this house, my
+dear Doctor," said Garrick. "I give you my word that I had laid my
+plans quite differently. My plot was a far more elaborate one, and Polly
+Cholmondeley had agreed to take part in it, as well as Dick Sheridan.
+They will be disappointed to learn that it has miscarried. Who could
+guess that he should come to you of all men in the world, Doctor? He has
+never been one of your intimates."
+
+"Only when I was living with Mr. Greville had we more than a superficial
+acquaintance," replied Burney. "But that does not make me the less
+ashamed of having lent myself to your nefarious project. And you, James,
+you threw yourself with gusto into the fooling of the unhappy man--and
+woman too--and woman too, I repeat."
+
+"Pray do not distress yourself on her account, Doctor. She will send him
+off with a flea in his ear by to-morrow night, and she will take care
+to pose as the insulted widow of Mr. Nash, whose memory is dear to her,"
+said Garrick.
+
+"Will she, indeed?" said Burney. "David Garrick, you are the greatest
+actor that has ever lived in England--probably in the world--but you are
+a poor comedian compared with such as are at work upon our daily life:
+we call them Circumstance, and Accident, and Coincidence. You know the
+couplet, I doubt not:=
+
+```' Men are the sport of circumstances when
+
+```The circumstances seem the sport of men.'=
+
+You have sounded the depths of human impulses, so far as your plummet
+allows you, and womankind seems to you an open book----"
+
+"An illuminated missal, with the prayers done in gold and the Lessons
+for the day in the most roseate tint, Doctor."
+
+"And the Responses all of a kind--the same in one book as another? But I
+make bold to believe, my friend, that every woman is a separate volume,
+of which only one copy has been printed; and, moreover, that every
+separate volume of woman is sealed, so that anyone who fancies he knows
+all that is bound up between the covers, when he has only glanced at the
+binding, makes a mistake."
+
+"Admirably put, sir, and, I vow, with fine philosophy," said Garrick.
+"But what imports this nomination of a woman at the present moment,
+Doctor?"
+
+"Its import is that you are over sanguine in your assurance that Mrs.
+Nash, widow, will reject Mr. Kendal, bachelor, when he offers her his
+hand after a dusty journey; and so good day to you, David Garrick, and
+I pray you to spend the rest of the day in the study of the history
+of those women who have opened the leaves of their lives a little way
+before the eyes of mankind."
+
+He had left the room and was within the waiting carriage and driving
+away before his son remarked:
+
+"Mr. Garrick, it seems to me that my good father has spoken the wisest
+words that you or I have heard to-day or for many a day."
+
+"And i' faith, James, it seems to me that that remark of yours is the
+second wisest that has been uttered in this room," said Garrick.
+
+He went away without a further word--without even taking his leave of
+the two young women and their stepmother, who herself had been a widow
+before she had married Dr. Burney. He had once believed that nothing
+a woman--young or old--could do would surprise him; for some reason or
+other he was not now quite so confident as he had been. But he certainly
+did not think that one of the greatest surprises of the century should
+be due to the demure young woman who seemed the commonplace daughter of
+a very ordinary household, and who at the moment of his departure was
+darning a small hole in a kitchen table-cloth, under the superintendence
+of her admirable stepmother.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+|IN the course of the morning Esther, the married daughter of the Bumey
+family, called at the house in St. Martin's Street. Esther, or as she
+was usually alluded to by her sisters, Hetty or Hettina, was handsome
+and accomplished. She had been married for some years to her cousin,
+Charles Rousseau Burney, who was a musician, and they lived and enjoyed
+living in an atmosphere of music. Her father took care that she was
+never likely to be asphyxiated; their atmosphere would never become
+attenuated so long as they lived, as they did, close to St. Martin's
+Street. He was well aware of the fact that his Hetty's duets with her
+husband--"matrimonial duets" they were called by Fanny in some of her
+letters--and also with her sister Charlotte, served to attract many
+distinguished visitors and profitable patrons to his house; he never
+forgot that profitable patrons and patronesses are always attracted
+by distinguished visitors. When one finds oneself in the company of
+distinguished people, one naturally feels a distinguished person also.
+
+Moreover, Dr. Burney knew perfectly well that when ambitious patrons
+and patronesses were made aware of the success which he had achieved in
+respect of his daughters, they were all ready to implore of him to
+spare some of his valuable time to give lessons to themselves, seeing no
+reason why, with his assistance, they should not reach the level of his
+two musical daughters. He conducted his teaching on the principle which
+brings fortunes to the Parisian modiste, who takes good care that her
+mannequins are good-looking and of a fine figure, knowing that the
+visitors to the showrooms have no doubt, no matter how little Nature
+has done for their own features or figures, that in the robes of the
+mannequins they will appear equally fascinating.
+
+The adoption of this system in the Burney household operated extremely
+well, and Dr. Burney had for several years enjoyed the proceeds of his
+cultivation of the musical tastes of the most influential client�le in
+London. In addition, the greatest singers in Europe, knowing that there
+was always an influential _assistance_ to be found at Dr. Burney's
+little concerts in St. Martin's Street, were greatly pleased to
+contribute to the entertainment, for love, what they were in the habit
+of receiving large sums for from an impresario. Those Italian operatic
+artists most notorious for the extravagance of their demands when
+appearing in public, were pushing each other aside, so to speak, to be
+allowed to sing at Dr. Burney's, and really upon more than one occasion
+the contest between the generosity of a pair of the most distinguished
+of these singers must have been somewhat embarrassing to Dr. Burney.
+They were clearly singing against each other; and one of them, who
+invariably received fifty guineas for every contribution she made to a
+programme in public, insisted on singing no fewer than five songs, "all
+for love" (and to prove her superiority to her rival), upon a certain
+occasion at the Burneys'; so that really the little company ran a chance
+of being suffocated beneath the burden of flowers, as it were--the
+never-ending _fioriture_ of these generous artists--and Dr. Burney found
+himself in the position of the lion-tamer who runs a chance of being
+overwhelmed by the caresses of the carnivora who rush to lick his hands.
+
+The result of all this was extremely gratifying, and eminently
+profitable. Had Dr. Burney not been a great musician and shown by the
+publication of the first volume of the greatest History of Music the
+world had yet received, that he was worthy of being placed in the
+foremost ranks of scientific musicians, he would have run a chance of
+being placed only a little higher than the musical Cornelys of Soho
+Square, who gave their concerts, and entertained their friends, and made
+quite a reputation for some years before bankruptcy overtook them and
+the precincts of the Fleet became their headquarters.
+
+And now the beautiful Esther Burney was toying with the contents of her
+sister Fanny's work-basket, talking about her husband and his prospects,
+and inquiring what Mr. Garrick and James had to talk about in the room
+downstairs.
+
+"Pray speak in French to Fanny," said Mrs. Burney. "I cannot get Lottie
+and Susan to do so as frequently as I could wish. You must remember that
+poor Fanny has had none of your advantages, and I do not want her to
+be talked of as the dunce of the family. She really is not a dunce, you
+know; in spite of her bad sight she really has done some very pretty
+sewing."
+
+"I have seen it," said Esther. "She works very neatly--more neatly than
+any of us."
+
+Fanny blushed and smiled her thanks to her sister for the compliment.
+
+"What else is there left for me to do but to give all my attention to
+my needle?" she said. "I constantly feel that I am the dunce of the
+family--you are all so clever."
+
+"It is well for many families that they include one useful member," said
+her stepmother in a way that suggested her complete agreement with
+the girl's confession that she was the dunce of the family. A mother's
+acknowledgment that a girl is either useful or good-natured is
+practically an announcement that she is neither pretty nor accomplished.
+
+"And Fanny has many friends," continued Mrs. Burney indulgently.
+
+"Which shows how kind people are, even to a dunce," said Fanny, not
+bitterly, but quite good-humouredly.
+
+"But I am not sure that she should spend so much of her time writing to
+Mr. Crisp," said the elder Mrs. Burney to the younger.
+
+"Oh, poor Daddy Crisp!" cried Fanny. "Pray, mother, do not cut him off
+from his weekly budget of news. If I fail to send him a letter he is
+really disconsolate. 'Tis my letters that keep him still in touch with
+the life of the town."
+
+"Well, well, my dear Fanny, I shall not deprive you of your Daddy
+Crisp," said her stepmother. "Poor Mr. Crisp must not be left to the
+tender mercies of Susan or Lottie. He is most hospitable, and his house
+at Chessington makes a pleasant change for us now and again, and he took
+a great fancy to you from the first."
+
+"Daddy Crisp was always Fanny's special friend," said Esther. "And I am
+sure that it is good practice for Fanny to write to him."
+
+"Oh, she has long ago given up that childish nonsense," cried the
+mother. "Poor Fanny made a pretty bonfire of her scribblings, and she
+has shown no weakness in that way since she took my advice in regard to
+them."
+
+Fanny was blushing furiously and giving all her attention to her work.
+
+"She has still a sense of the guilt that attaches to the writing of
+stories, though I am sure that no one in this house remembers it against
+her," said Esther with a laugh, as Fanny's blushes increased. "But
+indeed I had not in my mind Mr. Crisp's advantage to her in this way,
+but only in regard to her correspondence. She has become quite an expert
+letter-writer since he induced her to send him her budget, and indeed I
+think that good letter-writing is as much of an accomplishment in these
+careless days as good singing--that is ordinary good singing--the good
+singing that we hear from some of father's pupils--Queenie Thrale, _par
+exemple!_"
+
+"Your father is a good teacher, but the best teacher in the world cannot
+endow with a good singing-voice anyone who has not been so gifted by
+Nature," said the elder lady. "'Tis somewhat different, to be sure, in
+regard to correspondence, and I do not doubt that Fanny's practice in
+writing to good Mr. Crisp will one day cause her to be regarded as one
+of the best letter-writers in the family, and that is something. It is
+a ladylike accomplishment, and one that is worth excelling in; it gives
+innocent pleasure to so many of her friends who live at a distance; and
+your father can always obtain plenty of franks, Mr. Charmier and Mr.
+Thrale are very obliging."
+
+Fanny was a little fidgety while her eldest sister and her stepmother
+were discussing her in a tone of indulgence which was more humiliating
+than open reprobation would have been. But she knew that the truth
+was, that from her earliest years she was looked on as the dunce of the
+family, and she was so morbidly self-conscious that she was quite ready
+to accept their estimate of her. The silent member of a musical
+family soon finds out how she is looked on by the others; not with
+unkindness--quite the contrary--but only as if she were to be slightly
+pitied for her deficiency. But she had a secret or two, the treasuring
+of which in her heart prevented her from having any feeling of
+humiliation in the presence of her splendid sister, whom all the world
+sought to attract to their houses, especially when there were guests
+anxious to be entertained by the sweet singing of a handsome young
+woman with a very presentable young husband. Fanny had her secrets
+and cherished them with a fearful joy, for she knew that any day might
+remove either or both of them, and then there would be nothing left for
+her in the household but to put her heart into her needlework. But one
+cannot do needlework without needles, and if she were to put her heart
+into her work, and if every needle had a point, the result would, she
+knew, be a good many prickings.
+
+She trusted that she might never be condemned to put her heart into her
+needlework.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+|THEN Lieutenant Burney sauntered into the room and greeted Esther; but
+when Fanny inquired with some eagerness what had been the result of Mr.
+Garrick's fooling of poor Mr. Kendal, James was by no means so glib or
+amusing as Fanny expected him to be.
+
+"Psha!" he cried; "that Mr. Kendal is not worth powder and shot--at
+least not the weight of metal that Mr. Garrick can discharge--not in a
+broadside--Mr. Garrick is not given to broadsides--they are too clumsy
+for him--he is like Luke Boscawen, our chief gunner; he had a contempt
+for what he was used to term a blustering broadside, having a liking
+only for the working of his little brass swivel. He could do anything
+that he pleased with his little swivel. 'Ping!' it would go, when he
+had squinted along the sights, and the object he aimed at half a
+mile away--sometimes so small that we could scarce see it from our
+foretop--down it went. Boscawen could do what he pleased with it--the
+blunt nose of a whale rising to spout a mile away--the stem of a
+cocoa-nut palm on one of the islands when we were not sure of
+the natives and there was no time to climb the tree--that is the
+marksmanship of Mr. Garrick, and your Mr. Kendal was not worthy of an
+exercise of so much skill."
+
+"Nobody seems too insignificant to be made a fool of by Mr. Garrick,"
+said Mrs. Burney. "He is as happy when he has made a gruesome face and
+frightened a maid with a mop at the doorstep, as when he has stricken us
+with awe when the ghost enters in _Hamlet_, or when Macbeth declaims of
+the horror of the curse of sleeplessness that has been cast on him. That
+is why I said before he arrived that I was not sure that his influence
+upon you all is for good. He makes one lose one's sense of the right
+proportions and realities of life. Now is not that so, Hetty? I make
+no appeal to Fanny, for I know that she has ever been devoted to Mr.
+Garrick. Is it not true that she was used to frighten poor Lottie before
+she was ten by showing how Mr. Garrick frowned as the Duke of Gloster?"
+
+"I know that Fanny murdered us all in turn in our beds, assuring us that
+we were the Princes in the Tower, or some less real characters invented
+by herself," said Esther. "But indeed if James tells us that Mr.
+Garrick's gun practice smashed the cocoa-nut that serves Mr. Kendal as a
+head, I should not grieve. Tell us what happened, James."
+
+"Oh, 'twas naught worth words to describe," said James. "The man came to
+take counsel of Daddy in regard to a jest that Mr. Garrick had, unknown
+to his victim, played off upon him, and Mr. Garrick so worked upon him
+that Daddy had no chance to speak. But Mr. Garrick made fools of us as
+well, for I give you my word, though we were in with him in his jest,
+he had us blubbering like boobies when he laid his hand on the fellow's
+shoulder and spoke nonsense in a voice quivering and quavering as though
+he were at the point of breaking down."
+
+Mrs. Burney the elder shook her head.
+
+"That is what I do not like--that trifling with sacred things," she
+said. "'Tis not decent in a private house--I would not tolerate it even
+in a playhouse, and I see that you are of my opinion, James, though you
+may have been dragged into the abetting of Mr. Garrick in whatever mad
+scheme he had set himself upon perfecting."
+
+"Oh, for that matter we are all sorry when we have been merry at the
+expense of another, even though he be an elderly coxcomb such as that
+Mr. Kendal," said James. "But enough--more than enough--of coxcomb
+Kendal! Tell us of the Duchess's concert, Hetty. Were the matrimonial
+duets as successful as usual?"
+
+Esther, who had been disappointed that her stepmother had not yet said
+a word about the concert of the previous night given by the Dowager
+Duchess of Portland, at which she and her husband had performed,
+brightened up at her brother's question.
+
+"The concert was well enough," she replied with an affectation of
+carelessness. "'Twas no better than many that have taken place under
+this roof. Her Grace and her grandees were very kind to us--we had
+enough plaudits to turn the head of Gabrielli herself."
+
+"Oh, the Gabrielli's head has been turned so frequently that one can
+never tell when it sits straight on her shoulders," said James.
+
+"She was _very_ civil to us last evening," said Esther. "Indeed, she
+was civil to everyone until the enchanter Rauzzini sang the solo
+from _Piramo e Tisbe_ and swept the company off their feet. The poor
+Gabrielli had no chance against Rauzzini."
+
+"Especially in a company that numbered many ladies," said James, with a
+laugh. "You remember what Sir Joshua told us that Dr. Goldsmith had once
+said of Johnson?--that in his argument he was like the highwayman: when
+his pistol missed fire he knocked one down with the butt."
+
+"I heard that upon one occasion Dr. Johnson knocked a man down with a
+heavy book, but I cannot imagine his ever firing a pistol," remarked
+Mrs. Burney, who had been used, when the wife of a straightforward
+merchant of Lynn, to take every statement literally, and had not yet
+become accustomed to the involved mode of speaking of the brilliant
+young Burneys.
+
+"You mean that Rauzzini--I don't quite perceive what you do mean by your
+reference to Dr. Goldsmith's apt humour," said Esther.
+
+"I only mean that among such a company as assembled at the Duchess's, if
+he missed fire with his singing, he glanced around with those dark eyes
+of his and the ladies went down before him by the score," replied James.
+"Do not I speak the truth, Fanny?" he added, turning quickly to where
+Fanny was searching with her short-sighted eyes close to her work-basket
+for some material that seemed to be missing.
+
+But she had clearly heard her brother's question, for she did not need
+to raise her head or to ask him to repeat it.
+
+"Oh, we are all the slaves of the nobil' signor," she said, and
+continued her search in the basket.
+
+"From the way he talked to us last night it might be fancied that it was
+he who was the captive," said Esther.
+
+"And I do not doubt that he is living in a state of constant captivity,"
+laughed James. "Ay, or I should rather term it inconstant captivity,
+for I dare swear that those black eyes of his do a deal of roving in the
+course of a year--nay, in the course of a day. These singer fellows feel
+that 'tis due to their art, this moving the hearts of their hearers,
+by moving their own affections from heart to heart. The Rauzzini is, I
+fancy, like one of the splendid butterflies we came upon in the Straits,
+fluttering from flower to flower."
+
+"I have heard no stories of his inconstancy, even from the Gabrielli
+when she was most envious of his plaudits," said Esther, and she glanced
+at her sister, who was earnestly threading a needle.
+
+"You goose!" cried James to Esther. "Do you suppose that Gabrielli would
+tell you anything so greatly complimentary to him? In these days you
+cannot pay a man a greater compliment than to compare him to the fickle
+butterfly. You see that suggests a welcome from every flower."
+
+"I protest that it is to sailors I have heard most compliments of that
+sort paid," laughed Esther, and then, putting herself in a singing
+attitude before him, she lilted most delightfully:=
+
+````"Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more!
+
+````Men were deceivers ever,
+
+````One foot on sea-=
+
+
+"ha, ha, brother James!=
+
+
+````and one on shore,
+
+````To one thing constant never.=
+
+"Now be advised by me, dear James, and do not attribute even in a
+cynical way, the vice of inconstancy to a singer, until you have left
+the Navy."
+
+"I did not allude to it as a vice--rather as a virtue," said James.
+"Just think of the hard fate of any girl to have such a person as a
+singer ever by her side!"
+
+He easily evaded the rush down upon him made by Hetty, and used his
+nautical skill to sail to the windward of her, as it were, until he had
+reached the door, whence he sent a parting shot at her.
+
+"You surely don't think that I hinted that your spouse was a singer," he
+cried. "A singer! Oh, lud! I should be swaying away on all top ropes if
+I were to call the matrimonial duets singing."
+
+He gave a shout of laughter as he caught the ball of wool which Esther
+threw at him, having picked it up from her stepmother's work-table. He
+returned it with a better aim, and before his sister could get a hand on
+it, he had shut the door, only opening it a little space a few seconds
+later to put in his head with a mocking word, withdrawing it at once,
+and then his foot was heard upon the stair, while he gave a sailor's
+version of Mr. Garrick's patriotic naval song:=
+
+```Come, cheer up, my lads, 'tis to glory we steer.=
+
+"He has gone before I had a chance of asking him to take a message
+to the cheesemonger," said Mrs. Burney, calling out to him while she
+hurried after him out of the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+|THE moment the two sisters were alone, the elder said quickly in a low
+voice, leaning across the table:
+
+"We had a long talk with Signor Rauzzini, my dearest Fanny. I could not,
+of course, tell you before mother."
+
+"You mentioned his name; but were you discreet?" said Fanny. "I think
+mother felt that you were going too far when you referred to his eyes.
+Mother most surely believes that the dark eyes of an Italian form a
+topic that should not be discussed except by our elders, and then only
+with bated breath and a fearful glance around lest a word should be
+overheard."
+
+"His eyes--you know his eyes, Fanny?"
+
+"Oh!" said Fanny, with an inflection that was between a sigh and a moan.
+
+"You should have seen them while he spoke of you," said Esther. "Talk
+of flashes of lightning!--Dear child, it seemed so singular to us that a
+mite like you should inspire a grand passion in such a man. You are not
+angry with us, I know, but it was so indeed."
+
+"Why should I feel angry with you for feeling just what I do myself,
+only more intensely," said Fanny. "Tis one of the greatest mysteries of
+life--the only mystery of life that I have yet faced--why a man who is
+as handsome as an archangel, and who possesses a voice that an archangel
+might envy, should so much as glance at an insignificant young woman
+like myself! Oh! 'tis no wonder that the notion amused you, dear Hetty."
+
+"It only diverted us for a time, I assure you, my Fanny; it did not
+take us very long to perceive how it was no laughing matter, but, on
+the contrary, a very serious matter. Signor Rauzzini is, as I said, an
+enchanter, but do you not think that 'tis somewhat dangerous to--to----"
+
+"To play with fire? That is what is on your mind, dear--to allow
+the fire of his Roman eyes to play about me? Dangerous? I admit that
+wherever there is fire there is danger, especially when it flashes from
+such eyes."
+
+"I am glad that you need no warning, child. As your elder sister I am
+pleased that--that--but no one in the house seems to think for a moment
+that the favour he has so distinctly shown to you can mean anything.
+Indeed, until last night, neither Charles nor I could believe----"
+
+Fanny laughed, half closing her short-sighted eyes with a curious
+expression as she looked at her sister.
+
+"It is only natural, my dear Hettina," she said.
+
+"Have I ever ventured to suggest that I am other than the dunce of the
+family?"
+
+"You have always been absurdly humble, Fanny, and I have never hesitated
+to say so," cried Esther. "I am sure that none of us could have made up
+such clever little pieces to act as you did when we were children. And
+as for writing, could any of us have so neatly copied out the padre's
+History as you did last year? Mr. Crisp, too--he never takes pleasure in
+any letters of the family except what you write for him."
+
+"All perfectly true, my Hettina," replied Fanny. "But where am I when
+the house is filled with visitors? You know that I am nobody--that all
+I pray for with all my heart is that no one will take any notice of me,
+and I think I can say that my prayer is nearly always granted."
+
+"That is because you are so dreadfully--so absurdly shy," said Esther.
+"You are the little mouse that is evermore on the look out for a hole
+into which you can creep and be safe from the observation of all eyes.
+You are ever trying to escape, unless when Mr. Garrick is here."
+
+"Dear Hettina, I know my place--that is all. I have weak eyes, but quick
+ears, and I have heard strangers ask, when they have heard you sing and
+Susan play, who the little short-sighted girl in the corner is and what
+she means to do for the entertainment of the company. When they are
+assured that I am one of the clever Burney family they whisper an
+incredulous 'No?' They cannot believe that so insignificant a person as
+myself can be one of you."
+
+"Tis your morbid self-consciousness, Fanny, that suggests so much to
+you."
+
+"Oh, no; I was the dunce from the first. You know that while you could
+read any book with ease when you were six, I did not even know my
+letters when I was eight. Don't you remember how James made a jest of
+my thirst for knowledge by pretending to teach me the alphabet with the
+page turned upside down? And when you had gone to school at Paris and
+it was my turn as the next eldest, the wise padre perceived in a moment
+that the money would be much better spent upon Susan and Lottie, and
+they went to be educated while I remained at home in ignorance? The dear
+padre was right: he knew that I should have been miserable among bright
+girls away from home."
+
+There was a pause before the elder sister said quite pathetically:
+
+"My poor Fanny! I wonder if you have not been treated shabbily among
+us."
+
+"Not. I, my Hettina. I have always been treated fairly. I have had as
+many treats as any of you; when you were learning so much in Paris I
+have been learning quite a number of things at home. And one of the
+most important things I learned was that so brilliant a person as Signor
+Rauzzini could never be happy if married to so insignificant a person as
+Fanny Burney."
+
+Esther gave a little sigh of relief.
+
+"Indeed I think that your conclusion is a right one, dear," she said.
+"We both came to the conclusion--Charles and I--that it would be a huge
+misfortune if you should allow yourself to be attracted by the glamour
+that attaches to the appearance of such a man as the Rauzzini, though,
+mind you, I believe that he honestly fancies himself in love with
+you--oh, he made no disguise of it in talking with us last night. But I
+hoped that you would be sensible."
+
+"Oh, in the matter of sense I am the equal of anyone in the family,"
+said Fanny, laughing. "That I mean to make my one accomplishment--good
+sense. That is the precious endowment of the dunce of the clever
+family--good sense; the one who stands next to the dunce in the lack of
+accomplishments should be endowed with good nature. Good sense and good
+nature go hand in hand in plain grey taffeta, not down the primrose
+paths of life, but along the King's highway of every day, where they run
+no chance of jostling the simple foot-passengers or exciting the envy
+of any by the flaunting of feathers in their face. Good sense and good
+nature are best satisfied when they attract no attention, but pass on to
+obscurity, smiling at the struggle of others to be accounted persons of
+importance."
+
+"Then you have indeed made up your mind to marry Mr. Barlowe?" cried
+Esther.
+
+Fanny laughed enigmatically.
+
+"Does it not mean rather that I have made up my mind not to marry Mr.
+Barlowe?" she cried.
+
+Esther looked puzzled: she was puzzled, and that was just what Fanny
+meant her to be.
+
+But then she looked piqued, as elder sisters do when puzzled by the
+words or the acts of the younger. What business have younger sisters
+puzzling their elders? Their doing so suggests pertness when the elders
+are unmarried, but sheer insubordination when they are married; and
+Esther was by no means willing at any time to abrogate the privileges of
+her position as a married woman.
+
+"I protest that I do not understand your meaning, Fanny," she said,
+raising her chin in a way that gave her head a dignified poise. There
+was also a chill dignity in the tone of her voice.
+
+"Dear Hettina, I ask your pardon," cried Fanny quickly. "I fear that
+I replied to you with a shameful unreasonableness. But indeed I am not
+sure that you had reason on your side when you assumed that because I
+was ready to acknowledge that it would not mean happiness to our dear
+Signor Rauzzini to marry an insignificant person like myself, I was
+therefore prepared to throw myself into the arms of Mr. Barlowe."
+
+"I fancied that--that--but you may have another suitor in your mind
+whose name you have not mentioned to anyone."
+
+"Why should it be necessary for me to have a suitor of any kind? Is it
+not possible to conceive of the existence of a young woman without a row
+of suitors in the background? I admit that the 'Odyssey' of Homer--you
+remember how I used to listen to your reading of Mr. Broome's
+translation to mother--would be shorn of much of its interest but for
+that background of suitors in one of the last books, but--well, my dear
+sister, I hold that the alternative song of life to the matrimonial duet
+is the spinster's solo, and it does not seem to me to be quite devoid of
+interest."
+
+"Oh, I took it for granted----" began Esther, when Fanny broke in upon
+her.
+
+"Yes, I know what all the happily wedded ones take for granted," she
+cried. "You assume that the wedded life is the only one worth living;
+but as we are told in the Bible that there is one glory of the sun and
+another of the moon, so I hold that I am justified in believing that if
+matrimony be celestial, spinsterhood is terrestrial, but a glory all the
+same, and not unattractive to me. I may be wise enough to content myself
+with the subdued charm of moonlight if it so be that I am shut off from
+the midday splendour of matrimony."
+
+Esther did not laugh in the least as did her sister when she had
+spoken with an air of finality. She only made a little motion with her
+shoulders suggesting a shrug, while she said:
+
+"I hope you will succeed in convincing mother that your views are the
+best for the household; but I think you will have some difficulty in
+doing so, considering what a family of girls we are."
+
+"I do not doubt that mother will be on the side of immediate matrimony
+and poor Mr. Barlowe," said Fanny.
+
+"Why poor Mr. Barlowe?" cried Esther. "He is a young man of excellent
+principles, and he has never given his parents a day's trouble. It
+is understood that if he marries sensibly he will be admitted to a
+partnership in the business, so that----"
+
+"Principles and a partnership make for matrimonial happiness, I doubt
+not," said Fanny. "And I doubt not that Dr. Fell had both excellent
+principles and an excellent practice; still someone has recorded in
+deathless verse that she--I assume the sex--did not like that excellent
+man."
+
+"And you do not like Mr. Barlowe on the same mysterious grounds?" said
+Hetty.
+
+"Nay, I am not so unreasonable, I hope," replied Fanny. "But--but--dear
+sister, I remember how I thought that the song of the linnet which was
+in our little garden at Lynn was the loveliest strain of the grove, and
+such was my belief until I awoke one night at Chessington and heard the
+nightingale."
+
+"You are puzzling--singularly puzzling today," said Esther frowning.
+"You have started two or three mystifying parables already. You told
+me some time ago as a great secret that you had been renewing your
+story-writing, in spite of your having burnt all that you had written
+for our edification--all that story--what was its name? The heroine was
+one Caroline Evelyn. You were ever an obedient child, or you would not
+have sacrificed your offspring at the bidding of our new mother, though
+the advice that she gave you was good, if you have not quite adhered to
+it. Novel writing is not for young ladies any more than novel reading,
+and certainly talking in parables is worse still. Well, I have no more
+time to spend over your puzzles."
+
+"You would not find their solution to repay you, my dear," said Fanny.
+
+"Still, I am pleased to learn that you take a sensible view of Signor
+Rauzzini and his heroics--but, indeed, I cannot see that Mr. Barlowe
+should not be considered, with his prospects--his father is a mercer in
+gold and silver lace, as you know----"
+
+"I have heard so--it is a profitable trade, I believe."
+
+"None more so. It is impossible to believe that a time will ever come
+when gold and silver lace will cease to be worn by gentlemen."
+
+"That would be an evil day for England as well as for Messieurs Barlowe,
+_p�re et fils_. But thank heaven it is not yet in sight. Good morning,
+dear sister; and be assured you have my thanks for your advice. But
+mind you keep my little secret about the writing. Good-bye. You can face
+mother boldly, knowing that you have carried out her commission to the
+letter, and very neatly and discreetly into the bargain."
+
+"I would not have done so if her views had not been mine also; as for
+your writing--you may depend on my keeping your secret. But you will
+have to get the padre's permission to have it printed--that's something
+still in the far future, I suppose;"--and the elder sister stooped to
+kiss the younger--Fanny was not up to the shoulder of the beautiful and
+stately Esther.
+
+And so they parted.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+|FANNY BURNEY had been forced, for the first time, to make her sister
+aware of the fact that she knew she was looked on as the dunce of the
+brilliant Burney family. She could see that her doing so had startled
+her sister, for neither Esther nor any of the other girls had ever
+suggested to her that they thought of her as being on a different level
+from themselves, though it was tacitly allowed that it was a great
+pity that Fanny did not emulate them in taking pains to shine as it was
+expected the children of that estimable master of music, Dr. Burney,
+should shine, so as to make the house in that narrow little street off
+Leicester Fields attractive to its many distinguished visitors.
+
+Fanny had truly defined her place in the household. She had recognized
+her place for several years; but there was not the least suggestion of
+rancour in her tone when talking to her brilliant elder sister, for
+the simple reason that there was no bitterness in her heart against any
+member of the family for being cleverer than herself. Fanny took pride
+in the accomplishments of her sisters, and was quite content with her
+position in relation to them. She got on well with all of them, because
+she was fond of them all, and they were all fond of her. She had not
+rebelled when her father had sent her younger sisters to be educated
+in Paris, and had allowed her to pick up her own education as best she
+might in his own library; and it had been a great happiness to her to be
+allowed the privilege of copying out for the press the first volume of
+her father's "History of Music." It was her stepmother who, finding
+out that Fanny had what Mrs. Burney called "a taste for writing," had
+suggested that that was the legitimate channel in which such a taste
+should flow; and it was her stepmother who had induced her to make a
+bonfire of all her own writings--the scribblings of her girlhood that
+represented the foolish errant flow of her "taste for writing ": and
+now and again she had a consciousness of her own duplicity in failing
+to resist the impulse that had come upon her to do some more of what her
+mother termed her "girlish scribbling."
+
+One of the guilty secrets that Fanny cherished was that when it was
+believed she was writing her long letters to her old friend Mr. Crisp,
+she had been composing a novel which was now about to be given to the
+world; the second was that Signor Rauzzini, the handsome young Roman
+singer with whom half the fashionable ladies of the town were in love,
+was in love with her.
+
+These were two secrets worth the cherishing, she knew; and the thought
+of them more than compensated her for the reflection that she was the
+dunce of the family, and that the unconscious tone of patronage adopted
+toward her by her elder sister and the dreadful compliments paid to her
+plain sewing, as though plain sewing represented the highest hopes that
+could reasonably be entertained in regard to her, were only to be looked
+for in the circumstances.
+
+The two secrets were closely bound up together, she knew. She had the
+deepest affection for Signor Rauzzini. How could she fail to return the
+feeling which the whisper of his musical voice had told her he had
+conceived for her? He loved her in spite of the fact that she was the
+least attractive member of the family--in spite of the fact that half
+the town was at his feet, and that he might have made his choice from
+among the best. He had chosen her whom no one else had ever noticed,
+with the exception of her father's old friend, Mr. Crisp, and--oh, yes
+(she laughed now, perceiving that she had done an injustice to the other
+person who had been attracted to her--mainly, she thought, on account of
+her reputation for plain sewing)--a young man named Thomas Barlowe, the
+excellent son of the well-known mercer of gold and silver lace, in the
+Poultry!
+
+Thinking of young Mr. Barlowe by the side of Signor Rauzzini,
+Fanny laughed again. She had so restricted an opinion of her own
+attractiveness that the tears actually came into her eyes for having
+given that derisive laugh as she compared the two young men; and she
+felt that she had been grossly ungrateful to young Mr. Barlowe; for even
+young Mr. Barlowe had a right to look above her level for a wife. As the
+daughter of a simple music master with a large family she could have no
+endowment so far as worldly goods were concerned; and she knew that the
+practical parents of young business men, as a rule, looked for their
+sons to marry, if not great fortunes, at least young women with a few
+thousands to their names.
+
+She felt that she had treated the condescending young Mr. Barlowe very
+badly in laughing at the poor figure he cut by the side of the angelic
+Roman singer--she had failed to resist the temptation to call Signor
+Rauzzini angelic in one of her letters to Mr. Crisp--and now,
+in thinking of Mr. Barlowe as a very worthy young man, she was
+unconsciously relegating him to a hopeless position as a lover. It
+is not the very worthy young men who are beloved by young women of a
+romantic temperament: if it were there would be very few romances
+left. But little Miss Burney desired only to ease the twinges of her
+conscience for having laughed at the thought of young Tommy Barlowe; and
+she thought that she had done the right thing in assuring herself that
+he was a very worthy person.
+
+And then she thought no more about him. She had a feeling that to give
+another thought to him when she had such a man as Signor Rauzzini
+to think about, would be a constructive act of treason in regard to
+Rauzzini. She had received many hints from her stepmother to the effect
+that all the family considered her to be a very fortunate young woman
+(all things taken into account) in having a chance of marrying the
+Thomas who seemed ready to pay his addresses to her; but though quite
+submissive to her stepmother in household matters, she was ready to face
+her with the "Never!" of the avowed rebel in the matter of consenting
+to wed the highly approved Thomas, and so she dismissed him from her
+thoughts, in favour of the man whom she loved.
+
+But thinking of the man whom she loved was by no means equivalent to
+passing into a region of unalloyed happiness. She had mystified her
+sister by the way in which she had spoken about Signor Rauzzini, and the
+seal had been put upon the mystery by her frank acknowledgment that she
+did not think a union between so distinguished a man as Rauzzini and so
+insignificant a person as herself was likely to be satisfactory.
+
+She had certainly allowed Hetty to go away believing that this was
+in her mind; and that was just what was in her mind when her thoughts
+turned from Thomas, whom she considered so estimable, to Rauzzini,
+whom she loved. She loved the Roman singer so truly that she had made a
+resolution never to consent to his marrying anyone so insignificant as
+she believed herself to be.
+
+She had no illusions regarding herself. She knew just how good-looking
+she was; she knew that by the side of any of her sisters she was almost
+plain; but that she had a pleasing, simple face of a very ordinary type.
+She knew that she could love with the truest devotion and she could
+trust herself not to change with time. But she felt that these were not
+beyond the traits of the ordinary young woman, and that they did
+not lift her from the level of insignificance to the level of Signor
+Rauzzini.
+
+She knew that she was at that moment an insignificant person; and she
+made no attempt to think of herself as otherwise.
+
+Yes; but she had heard of people--even young women--being insignificant
+one day, and the next springing to a pinnacle of fame to which all eyes
+looked up. How would it be if she were destined to reach in a moment
+a position that would place her on a level with the man of her
+thoughts--the man whose fame as a singer had caused him to be the centre
+round which every conversation in the most notable circles turned?
+Everyone was talking in praise of Rauzzini; and she herself thought of
+him as occupying a place on a height as far above her as King Cophetua's
+throne was above the marble steps at the foot of which the beggar maid
+had crouched; but in her mind there was the possibility that her name
+might one day be spoken by the world in connection with an achievement
+that would raise her from the insignificance of Fanny Burney to the
+importance of Signor Rauzzini, and prevent people from asking what on
+earth had induced so glorious a person as he to make her his wife!
+
+That was the secret dream which filled the imagination of this
+imaginative young woman--the same dream as comes to so many young women
+who have written the last chapter of a book and sent it forth for the
+world to receive with acclaim--the dream of fame--of immortality! She
+had written a novel and it was about to be given to the world, if the
+world would have it, and upon its success her happiness depended. If
+it brought her fame, it would place her by the side of the man whom
+she loved; but if it failed, then she would remain a person of no
+significance, and quite unworthy of sharing the honours which were
+showered upon her lover. She had imagination, and this faculty it was
+that made her more than doubtful of the success of King Cophetua's rash
+experiment. She felt sure that King Cophetua had now and again, turning
+suddenly round, caught one of his courtiers with his tongue in his
+cheek when his Majesty was entering the throne-room with his shy and
+insignificant Queen by his side, and that the Queen had occasionally
+overheard the whispers of her maids of honour, when they did not know
+she was at hand, asking one another what on earth the King had seen in
+her that induced him to make her his consort. Little Miss Burney had
+long ago made up her mind that the union of King Cophetua and his beggar
+maid was far from being a happy one--that the King looked around him and
+saw several princesses of great beauty and quite devoid of shyness who
+were fully acquainted with the convenances of his court and would not,
+if he had married any one of them, have made the mistakes which she was
+sure the young person whom he had elevated had fallen into, causing him
+constant irritation.
+
+Little Miss Burney had resolved that she would never play the part of
+a crowned beggar maid. The man whom she loved had won fame for himself,
+and she would not go to him unless she, too, had at least made such
+a name for herself as should prevent her from feeling herself in the
+position of the beggar maid whom King Cophetua had raised to his side.
+Little Miss Burney resolved that although she could scarcely expect to
+go to her lover wearing purple robes embroidered with gold, she could,
+at any rate, refrain from wearing beggars' rags. She had her ambitions,
+and she felt that they were not ignoble, but that they made for the
+happiness of the man she loved, and who had been gracious enough to love
+her--the least attractive member of the family.
+
+But after she had sat for some time with her hands lying idle on the
+sempstress' work at which she had been engaged on the departure of her
+sister--after her imagination had carried her much farther away than she
+intended it should, she was sensible of a return to the cold world from
+which she had soared. Her heart, which had begun to beat quickly when
+Hetty had told her how the divine Rauzzini had spoken of her, sank
+within her as she seemed to hear a voice asking who was she that she
+should hope to reach by the publication of that story which she had been
+writing by stealth and at odd times during the past three years, even
+the smallest measure of fame that would compare with that of Signor
+Rauzzini? What fame attached to the writing of a novel in comparison
+with that achieved by the enchantment of a singer who had power to move
+the hearts of men and women as it pleased him? Orpheus--ah, what
+fame could compare with the fame of Orpheus, the singer? His was a
+heaven-sent gift. What was her little talent compared with such a gift?
+If she had the ability even to make music such as one of her sisters
+could bring forth from the keys of the piano, she would have a better
+chance of being accounted worthy of a place beside Signor Rauzzini than
+if her novel found its way to the shelves of many readers. The writing
+of a novel was a poor achievement--nay, in the opinion of a good many
+people, including her own stepmother--a most practical woman--it was
+something to be ashamed of; and Fanny herself, thinking over all
+the novels written by women which she herself had read--most of them
+surreptitiously--was disposed to agree with her. That was why she had
+kept as a secret for more than three years the fact that she was trying
+to write a novel. Her father knew nothing of it, and her stepmother was
+equally uninformed. Even her old friend Mr. Crisp, to whom she wrote
+voluminous letters week after week, and to whom she gave her confidence
+on many matters, had no suspicion that she had written her novel.
+
+She had thought it prudent to keep this matter hidden from them, for she
+did not doubt that if she had told any one of them of her project, she
+would never have a chance of realizing it. They would certainly have
+pronounced against such a proceeding even before a page of her novel
+came to be written.
+
+And yet it was the thought that this novel was shortly to be published
+that had caused her to feel that she was drawing nearer to her lover.
+
+As she reflected upon this, sitting idly over her work when her sister
+had left the house, her tears began to fall, not in a torrent, but
+slowly dropping at intervals upon the fabric which she had been sewing.
+She felt very sad, very hopeless, very lonely.
+
+Nor could it be said that the sudden return of Mrs. Burney meant a
+return of happiness to the girl.
+
+Mrs. Burney did not consider that Fanny had made satisfactory progress
+with her work, and did not hesitate to express her opinion to this
+effect. But she was not imprudently unkind; for young Mr. Barlowe had
+just written to her, begging permission to pay his respects to Mrs.
+Burney and her daughter that evening, and she meant that Fanny should be
+in a good humour to entertain him.
+
+Mrs. Burney had great hopes that the question of Fanny's future--a
+constant topic of conversation and consultation between her and her
+husband--might be settled by a series of visits of young Mr. Barlowe.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+|YOUNG Mr. Barlowe took himself very seriously, and he had every right
+to do so; for a more serious young man was not to be found in business
+in London. He had been brought up to look upon everything in the world
+as having an intimate connection with business, and it had always been
+impressed upon him that business meant the increase of money, and that
+there was hardly anything in the world worth giving a thought to apart
+from the increase of money. It never occurred to any of his preceptors
+to suggest that the advantage of increasing one's money lay in the
+splendid possibilities of spending it. The art of making money forms
+the whole curriculum of a business man's education; he is supposed to
+require no instruction in the art of spending it. Thus it is that, by
+attending only to one side of the question, so many business men lead
+much less interesting lives than they might, if they had it in their
+power to place themselves under the guidance of a trustworthy professor
+of the Art of Spending. But no Chair of Spending has yet been provided
+at any University, nor is there any instructor on this important branch
+of business education at any of the City schools, hence it is that the
+sons of so many money-making men turn out spendthrifts. They have been
+taught only one side of the great money question, and that the less
+important side into the bargain. In making an honest endeavour to master
+the other side, usually on the death of a father or a bachelor uncle,
+both looked on as close-fisted curmudgeons, a good many young men find
+themselves in difficulties.
+
+Young Mr. Barlowe, on being introduced to the Burney family, through the
+circumstance of Mrs. Burney's first husband having done business with
+Mr. Barlowe the elder, found himself in a strange atmosphere. He had
+never before imagined the existence of a household where music and plays
+and books were talked about as if these were the profitable topics of
+life. Previously he had lived in a house where the only profitable topic
+was thought to be the Profits. At his father's table in the Poultry the
+conversation never travelled beyond the Profits. The likelihood of a
+rise in the price of gold or silver sometimes induced the father to
+increase his stock of bullion without delay, and then if the price rose,
+he could conscientiously charge his customers for the lace at such a
+rate per ounce as gave him a clear five per cent, extra profit; and it
+was upon such possibilities that the conversation in the Poultry parlour
+invariably turned.
+
+And here were these Burneys talking with extraordinary eagerness and
+vivacity upon such matters as the treatment by a singer named Gabrielli
+of one of the phrases in a song of Mr. Handel's, beginning: "Angels ever
+bright and fair"! For himself, young Mr. Barlowe thought that there
+was no need for so much repetition in any song. "Angels ever bright and
+fair, Take, oh take me to your care"--that was the whole thing, as it
+seemed to him; and when that request had been made once he thought it
+was quite enough; to repeat it half a dozen times was irritating and
+really tended to defeat its purpose. Only children in the nursery
+kept reiterating their requests. But he had heard Dr. Burney and
+his son-in-law, Esther's husband, discuss the Gabrielli's apparently
+unauthorized pause before the second violins suggested (as it appeared
+to the younger musician) a whisper of assent floating from the heaven;
+and all the members of the family except Fanny had taken sides in the
+controversy, as though a thing like that had any bearing upon the daily
+life of the City!
+
+Thomas Barlowe was amazed at the childishness of the discussion, and he
+was particularly struck by the silence of Fanny on this occasion. She
+was silent, he was sure, because she agreed with him in thinking it
+ridiculous to waste words over a point that should be relegated to the
+nursery for settlement.
+
+"They seem pleasant enough people in their way," he told his mother
+after his first visit. "But they know nothing of what is going on in the
+world--the real world, of which the Poultry is the centre. It might
+be expected that the young man who is a naval officer and has seen the
+world would know something of the import of the question when I asked
+him what direction he thought gold would move in; but he only winked and
+replied, 'Not across my hawse, I dare swear,' and the others laughed as
+if he had said something humorous."
+
+"Mayhap it was humorous," suggested his mother gravely.
+
+"It would be sheer ribaldry for anyone to jest upon such a subject
+as the fluctuations in the price of silver," said Thomas slowly.
+"Lieutenant Burney must surely know how serious a matter would be a fall
+of a fraction of a crown when we have bought heavily in prospect of
+a rise. But Miss Burney looks to be different from the others of the
+family. I have told you that while her father, and indeed all the rest,
+were talking excitedly on that ridiculous point in Mr. Handel's music,
+she sat in silence. She is short-sighted, but I noticed more than once
+that she had her eyes fixed on me, as if she had found something to
+study in me. She is, I think, a steady, observant young lady. When Mrs.
+Burney said she hoped that I would visit them again, I think I perceived
+a sort of interest on Miss Burney's face as she awaited my answer."
+
+Thomas had resolved not to frustrate the hopes that Mrs. Burney had
+expressed as to his paying another visit--as a matter of fact he had
+come three times, and on every occasion he had devoted himself to
+Fanny--to be more exact than Mrs. Burney, who had described his
+attentions in this phrase, he had passed his time subjecting her to a
+sort of catechism with a view to discover if she would make him the
+sort of wife that would suit him. It appeared that the result of his
+inquisition was satisfactory, and that his attentions were gradually
+becoming intentions; but Mrs. Burney had never gone farther than to
+comment favourably to Fanny upon the young man's steadiness, and to
+suggest that the young woman whom he might choose to be his wife would
+be fortunate, steady young men with good prospects in the City being far
+from abundant. She had never gone so far as to ask Fanny if she would
+accept good fortune coming to her in such a form; though Fanny knew very
+well that she had asked Esther to sound her on this point.
+
+How far Esther's mission was accounted successful by their stepmother,
+Fanny, of course, could not guess; but at any rate Thomas was to pay a
+visit after dinner, and Fanny felt that it was necessary for her to be
+discreet. It had been very interesting for her to study Thomas, with the
+possibility before her of writing a second novel, in which some of
+his traits of character might be introduced with advantage; but she
+perceived how there was a likelihood of her course of study being paid
+for at too high a rate; so she resolved--to be discreet beyond her
+ordinary exercise of a virtue which she displayed at all times of her
+life.
+
+So Thomas came to the house in St. Martin's Street while tea was
+being served in the drawingroom, to the accompaniment of a duet on
+the piano--Dr. Burney had quickly perceived the merits of this new
+instrument over that of the harpsichord--between Susan and her father.
+Very close to the instrument, pressing the receiver of his ear-trumpet
+to the woodwork of the case, sat Sir Joshua Reynolds, while his
+sister--a lady of middle age who was gradually relinquishing the idea
+that she, too, could paint portraits--was suffering Mrs. Burney
+to explain to her the advantages of Lynn over London as a place of
+residence for people anxious to economize.
+
+Fanny was at the table where the teapot and urn were being drawn on, and
+close to her sat her brother James, with a volume like an account-book
+lying face down on the table while he drank his tea.
+
+The progress of the duet was not arrested by the entrance of young Mr.
+Barlowe, but he looked in the direction of the instrument when he had
+shaken hands with Mrs. Burney and bowed to Miss Reynolds. It was obvious
+that he was mystified by seeing Sir Joshua's ear-trumpet pressed against
+the sound-conducting case of the piano. He was still looking at it with
+curious eyes while he greeted Fanny with the concentrated politeness of
+the Poultry.
+
+Lieutenant Burney roused himself from his lolling attitude when he saw
+the puzzled look on the young man's face, and he obligingly endeavoured
+to explain away the mystery.
+
+"'Tis no wonder that you are amazed, Mr. Barlowe," he said in a
+whisper. "I own that when it was first brought to my notice I thought it
+extraordinary. A marvellous instrument, is it not, that is played by the
+ear instead of by the mouth? And yet you must own that some of the notes
+it produces are very fine--much more delicate than could be produced by
+any other means."
+
+"I do not profess to be a judge of music, sir," said Thomas; "but I
+know what pleases me." Fanny wondered how often she had heard that
+same boast--the attempt of complete ignorance to be accredited with the
+virtue of frankness. "Yes, I own that I consider the music monstrous
+pretty; but with the ear--that is what puzzles me: it seems a simple
+trumpet, such as is blown by the mouth."
+
+"Pray do not let my father hear you say that, Mr. Barlowe," whispered
+James. "That instrument is his fondest. You know that he has written a
+'History of Music'?"
+
+"All the world knows that, sir," replied Thomas gallantly. "I have not
+yet found time to read it myself, but----"
+
+"Neither have I, sir; but I understand that that instrument which seems
+new to such simpletons as you and I is really as ancient as the pyramids
+of Egypt--nay, more so, for my father discovered in his researches that
+this was the identical form of the first instrument made by Tubal Cain
+himself."
+
+"Is't possible? In our Family Bible there is a picture of Tubal Cain,
+but he is depicted blowing through a conch shell."
+
+"A shell! Ah! such was the ignorance of the world on these matters
+before my father wrote his History. But he has managed to clear up
+many points upon which complete ignorance or very erroneous opinions
+prevailed. It is not generally known, for instance, that Tubal had his
+second name given to him by reason of his habitually murdering every
+musical piece that he attempted to play."
+
+"But he was the inventor, was he not?"
+
+"Quite true, Mr. Barlowe. But that fact, you must admit, only made his
+offence the more flagrant. So the inscriptions on the rocks assert; and
+there are some sensible people nowadays who believe that Tubal's second
+and very suggestive name should be coupled with the names of many more
+recent performers on musical instruments."
+
+"You do not allude to the gentleman who is playing that new
+instrument--I mean that very ancient instrument--by the side of Dr.
+Burney?"
+
+"Oh, surely not. That gentleman is one of the most notable performers of
+our age, Mr. Barlowe. I ask you plainly, sir, have you ever seen, even
+at a raree show, a musician who could play an instrument with his ear
+and produce such a good effect? You can easily believe that a vast
+amount of ingenuity is needed to produce even the simplest sound in that
+way."
+
+"If I had not it demonstrated before my eyes I should not believe it
+possible. I protest, sir, that the effect is very pretty. Is't not so,
+Miss Burney?"
+
+The young man turned to Fanny, who was doing her best to refrain from an
+outburst of laughter; she could not trust herself to put her cup of tea
+to her lips while her brother was continuing his fooling. She thought
+that it was scarcely good manners of him to play such a jest upon a
+visitor, though she knew the ward-room code of manners which her naval
+brother had acquired was very liberal on such points. She was about to
+give Mr. Barlowe a hint of the truth of Sir Joshua's ear-trumpet, but
+James, perceiving her intention, defeated it by saying in a tone above a
+whisper:
+
+"Cain--we mentioned Cain, did we not, Mr. Barlowe? Oh, yes; and it must
+have occurred to you how strangely customs have altered during the past
+ten years--how strongly opposed people are to-day to principles that
+were accepted without demur so recently as in our own boyhood. You take
+my meaning, sir?"
+
+Mr. Barlowe did not look as if he quite grasped Lieutenant Burney's
+drift, and Fanny felt it incumbent on her to prevent further fooling (as
+he thought she would) by remarking:
+
+"My brother means, Mr. Barlowe, that 'tis remarkable how many changes
+are being made in many ways--but what he had in his mind was, of course,
+in respect to the forte-piano--on which my father and sister are
+playing a duet: only a few years ago no one thought to improve upon
+the harpsichord; and yet my father asserts that in a short time the
+harpsichord will be no more than a curiosity--that the forte-piano--or
+as we simply call it now, the piano, will take its place in every
+household. That is what you meant, was it not, James?"
+
+"I was thinking of Cain and his profession--Cain, the good old murderer,
+rather than of Tubal Cain, who was perhaps equally criminal in inventing
+the liveliest source of human torture," replied James gravely. "Yes,
+I was thinking--suggested by the mention of Cain--how strange people
+nowadays would regard my father's intentions regarding my future when
+he assumed that I should have the best chance for cultivating my bent,
+which he had early recognized in me, by sending me, before it became too
+late, to be educated for the profession to an accomplished murderer."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+|YOUNG Mr. Barlowe started so violently that he spilt his tea over his
+knees; for just before James had uttered his last sentence the music
+stopped, but as it had been somewhat loud in the final bars, and James
+had raised his voice in the same proportion, the inertia of his tone
+defied any attempt to modulate it, so that it was almost with a shout
+that he had declared that he had been sent to be educated in his
+profession to a murderer.
+
+Fanny was too much overcome by the ludicrous aspect of the contretemps
+to be able to laugh. Her brother, who had had no intention of startling
+anyone in the room except young Mr. Barlowe, hung his head and was
+blushing under the South Sea tan of his skin; Sir Joshua Reynolds had
+heard nothing after the crashing chords that concluded the duet; but
+poor Miss Reynolds almost sprang from her chair in horror.
+
+Mrs. Burney was very angry.
+
+"You have been making a fool of yourself as usual, James," she cried.
+"Pray give Mr. Barlowe another cup of tea, Fanny. I vow that 'tis a
+shame for you, James Burney, to treat such a company as though you were
+on the deck of the _Adventure_ facing your South Sea savages."
+
+But Dr. Burney, with his customary tact, raised a hand half reprovingly
+toward his wife.
+
+"Give Mr. Barlowe his cup, and then pass one to me, Fanny," he said,
+rising from the piano. "You know that James has spoken no more than
+the truth, my dear," he added, smiling at his wife. "I can see that the
+rascal has been fooling while our backs were turned to him; but we know
+that he spoke no more than the truth--at least in that one sentence
+which he bawled out for us. He was, indeed, sent to a school where he
+was placed under an accomplished usher who was some time after hanged
+as a murderer. You see, madam----" he had turned, still smiling, to Miss
+Reynolds, thereby doing much to restore her confidence in the sanity of
+the family--"You see that James was from the first so desperate a young
+rascal that, just as a boy who is an adept at figures is educated for
+the counting-house, and one who spends all the day before he is six
+picking out tunes on the harpsichord should be apprenticed, as I was, to
+a musician, so we thought our James should be sent whither he could
+be properly grounded in the only profession at which he was likely to
+excel. But, alas! the poor usher was carried off by the police, tried at
+the next assizes and duly hanged before James had made much progress in
+his studies; but I believe that a few years in the navy does as much
+for a youth who has made up his mind to succeed, as a protracted course
+under a fully qualified criminal."
+
+Miss Reynolds looked as if she were not quite certain that, in spite of
+his smiles, Dr. Burney was jesting; but when Mrs. Burney, seeing how her
+husband's mock seriousness was likely to produce a wrong impression upon
+plain people, said:
+
+"You must recall hearing about Mr. Eugene Aram some years back, Mrs.
+Reynolds," that lady showed that her mind was greatly relieved.
+
+"I recall the matter without difficulty," she said. "The man was usher
+at the grammar school at Lynn."
+
+"And no school had a more learned teacher than that unfortunate man,"
+said Sir Joshua. Young Mr. Barlowe had been divided in his amazement
+at what Dr. Burney had said, and at the sight of Sir Joshua holding the
+trumpet to his ear, though the instrument remained mute. He had never
+found himself within the circle of so startling a society. He wished
+himself safe at home in the Poultry, where people talked sense and made
+no attempt to blow a trumpet with their ears.
+
+"James had acquired quite a liking for poor Aram," said Dr. Burney,
+"and, indeed, I own to having had a high opinion of the man's ability
+myself. It was to enable him to purchase books necessary for his studies
+in philology that he killed his victim--a contemptible curmudgeon named
+Johnstone. I fear that all our sympathy was on the side of the usher."
+
+"I was greatly interested in Mr. Aram, and read a full account of his
+trial," said Sir Joshua.
+
+"I wonder that a man of so sensitive a mind as his did not so brood over
+his crime as to cause suspicion to fall on him earlier than it did."
+
+"Only upon one occasion it seemed that he was affected by an incident
+which might possibly have awakened some suspicion in the mind of a
+person given to suspicion," said Dr. Burney.
+
+"James had been presented with a copy of the translation of Gessner's
+'Death of Abel'--everyone was going mad about the book that year--more
+copies were sold of it than of any translation since Pope's 'Homer,' but
+I fancy James found it dull enough reading. He had it on his knee trying
+to get through a page or two in case the kind donor might question him
+upon it, when the usher came up. He took the volume in his hand and
+glanced at the title. Down the book fell from his grasp and he hurried
+away without a word--'as if he had been stung,' James said, in telling
+us about it, to excuse the broken cover. Of course, I never gave a
+thought to the matter at the time; but when I heard of the arrest of
+Eugene Aram the following year, I recalled the incident."
+
+"I should like to make a picture of the scene, and name it 'Remorse,'"
+said Reynolds.
+
+(_He never did make such a picture; many years had passed, and Lieutenant
+Burney had become an Admiral before his narration of the incident
+touched the imagination of a poet who dealt with it in verse that has
+thrilled a good many readers._)
+
+Thomas Barlowe was not greatly thrilled by the story as told by Dr.
+Burney. He seemed rather shocked to find himself at the table with
+someone who had been taught by a murderer. He glanced furtively at James
+Burney, who had remained silent since the contretemps that had prevented
+him from perfecting his fooling of Thomas; and the result of Thomas's
+scrutiny at that moment was to cause Thomas a tremor; for who could say
+what fearful knowledge Lieutenant Burney might have acquired during
+his intercourse with the murderer--knowledge which might jeopardize the
+safety of a simple visitor like himself? Thomas felt that no ordinary
+person could be accounted absolutely safe in a company that included a
+tall, able-bodied young naval man who had begun his education under a
+murderer and had gone to complete it among the cannibals of the South
+Seas; and, in addition, an elderly gentleman who fancied that he could
+bring any sound out of a trumpet by pressing it to his ear instead of
+his lips, and had shown himself ready to extol the scholarship of any
+man who had been hanged.
+
+But then Thomas looked at Fanny, and she pleased him more than ever. She
+was so demure, so modest, so shy. She had a very pretty blush, and she
+did not play on the piano. It was a thousand pities, he felt, that such
+a girl should be compelled to remain in such uncongenial companionship.
+All the time that Dr. Burney and his other daughter were playing a
+second duet, and the silly gentleman holding the bell of his trumpet
+to the case of the piano, still fondly believing that he was also a
+performer with the mouth-piece in his ear, Thomas Barlowe was feeling
+wave after wave of pity passing over him for the unhappy position of
+the shy girl in the midst of so doubtful a household. Before long his
+compassion for her so stimulated his imagination that he began to think
+of the possibility of his rescuing her--he began to think of himself in
+the character of a hero--he did not remember the name of any particular
+hero who had carried off a young woman who was placed in a similar
+situation to that occupied by Miss Burney; but he had no doubt that more
+than one romance was founded upon the doings of such a man as he felt
+himself fully qualified to be, if he made up his mind to assume such a
+r�le.
+
+As the music continued--it was an arrangement of Bach's _Orf�o_--Thomas
+Barlowe became more and more resolute. He would be the heroic person who
+should appear at the right moment and achieve the emancipation of that
+sweet and shy girl, who by no fault of hers was forced to live in that
+house and remain, if she could, on friendly terms with her father and
+sisters, who kept strumming on the piano, and with her brother, who was
+ready to boast of having received the rudiments of his education from
+a murderer. All that he needed was the opportunity to show his heroism,
+and he did not doubt that when he set his mind to work on the matter, he
+would have such an opportunity.
+
+If anyone had whispered in his ear that his inward consciousness of
+being equal to the doing of great deeds was solely due to the music
+which was being played, and to which he was unwillingly listening, he
+would have been indignant. He would have thought it preposterous had it
+been suggested to him that the effect of that strumming was to make him
+feel more like a god than a man--to be ready to face hell for the love
+of a woman, as Jean Sebastian Bach imagined Orpheus doing for Eurydice.
+But Jean Sebastian Bach knew what he was about when he had composed his
+_Orf�o_, and Dr. Burney was quite equal to the business of interpreting
+his aims, and of urging his daughter Susan to join with him in
+impressing them upon even so unimpressionable a nature as that of Thomas
+Barlowe; so that while Thomas Barlowe believed that this music was one
+of the most petty of all human interests, it was making him think
+such thoughts as had never before entered his mind--it was giving him
+aspirations from which in ordinary circumstances he would have shrunk.
+
+The master musician and his interpreters were making sport of him,
+leading him if not quite into the region of the heroic, at least to the
+boundary of that region, and supplying him with a perspective glass, as
+the Interpreter did to the Pilgrims, by the aid of which he might see
+the wonderful things that had been beyond his natural scope.
+
+And that was how it came about that he gazed into Miss Burney's eyes and
+pressed her hand at parting with a tenderness he had never previously
+associated with his leave-taking. He felt sure that Miss Burney would
+understand what he meant, though he knew that he would have difficulty
+in expressing it all to her in words; for the effect of the music was
+to make him feel that he could put so much feeling into a look, into
+a squeeze of the hand, as would touch the heart of any young woman and
+cause her to be certain that she might trust him though all other help
+might fail her.
+
+That was the effect which the heroic music had upon him, though he did
+not know it; it made him feel willing to face hell for her sake at that
+moment, and even until he had walked through more than a mile of the
+network of streets that lay between Leicester Fields and the Poultry.
+
+But the effect of such an intoxicant as music upon such a nature as his
+is not lasting. Before he had reached Cheapside his own individuality
+was beginning to assert itself; and he wondered if he had not gone too
+far for discretion--discretion being, according to his reckoning, the
+power to withdraw from a position that might compromise him. And before
+he reached his home he had got the length of wondering how he had so far
+forgotten himself as to yield to that compromising impulse represented
+by the gaze and the squeeze. He could not for the life of him understand
+what had come over him at that moment; for he had by no means satisfied
+himself that Miss Burney was the young woman who would make him
+comfortable as his wife. He still thought highly of her on account of
+her modesty and her dainty shyness, but marriage was a serious matter,
+and he was not sure that he should take her for his wife.
+
+On the whole, he felt that he had had a very trying evening--between the
+Lieutenant who had so nearly qualified to practise as a murderer, and
+the father and daughter who seemed ready to strum their duets until
+midnight, to say nothing of the foolish gentleman who tried to play
+the trumpet with his ear; and Thomas made up his mind that he would not
+trust himself into the midst of so unusual a circle until he was certain
+that he wanted to marry the young woman whose hand he had, for some
+reason or other, pressed at parting.
+
+But Mrs. Burney had noticed much more clearly than Fanny had done the
+expression that the face of Thomas Barlowe had worn when he had looked
+into the girl's eyes; she had measured to the fraction of a second the
+duration of his holding of her hand beyond the time essential for
+the discharge of the ordinary courtesy of a hand-shake; and she was
+satisfied that Thomas was progressing in his wooing of the least
+attractive and certainly the least accomplished member of the family.
+The good woman thought, however, that it was rather a pity that her
+husband and Susan had persisted in the practice of their duets; for by
+doing so they had not given a chance to Thomas and Fanny of being alone
+together.
+
+But, looking back upon the incidents of the evening, she came to the
+conclusion that, on the whole, she had no reason to complain of the
+progress that was being made in the young man's wooing. She was no
+believer in undue haste in this respect; and had not Thomas looked into
+Fanny's eyes at the close of the evening? Yes, at the close; and that
+proved to her satisfaction that he had not suffered discouragement by
+the maladroit conversation about Mr. Eugene Aram. The unhappy episode
+upon which her husband had dwelt with far too great attention to its
+details, was one to which she herself had never alluded; for at Lynn,
+where she had lived all her life previous to being married to Dr.
+Burney, the Eugene Aram episode was regarded as a scandal to be ignored
+by those of the inhabitants whose children had attended the school where
+he had been usher. It was a distinctly favourable sign of the impression
+made upon young Mr. Barlowe by Fanny, that he had gazed into her eyes in
+spite of his having been made aware of the connection of the family with
+the tragedy of that wretched schoolmaster. Mrs. Burney took no account
+of the effect of Bach's marvellous music upon a young man who was a
+lover in the rough. In this respect, as has been indicated, she did not
+differ from the young man himself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+|IT was at the Pantheon in the Oxford Road a fortnight later, that Mrs.
+Thrale, the brewer's lively wife, had an opportunity of shining, by a
+display of that _esprit_ which caused Mr. Garrick to affirm solemnly
+that if she had gone upon the stage she would have been a dangerous
+rival to Mistress Clive; and Fanny Burney, with her father and Mr.
+Linley, the father of the beautiful Mrs. Sheridan, was a witness of the
+ease with which the lady sparkled as she described for the benefit of
+the circle how Mr. Garrick's jest at the expense of poor Mr. Kendal and
+the Widow Nash had set all the Wells laughing. She imitated Mr. Garrick
+to his face, in offering his congratulations to Mr. Kendal and so
+setting the ball a-rolling until within an hour the poor, silly
+gentleman had been offered the felicitations of half the Wells upon his
+engagement to Widow Nash. Mrs. Thrale re-enacted with great gravity
+the part she had played in Mr. Garrick's plot, and then she hastened
+to imitate Mrs. Cholmondeley's part, and even Mr. Sheridan's, upon that
+lively morning at Tunbridge Wells.
+
+But there was much more to tell, and Mrs. Thrale took very good care to
+abate nothing of her narrative; it gave her so good a chance of acting,
+and it gave Mr. Garrick so good a chance of complimenting her before all
+the company.
+
+"Oh, I vow that we played our parts to perfection," she cried, "and
+without any rehearsal either. But then what happened? You will scarce
+believe it, Mr. Garrick has always borne such a character for scrupulous
+honour in his dealings with his companies, but indeed 'tis a fact that
+our manager decamped as soon as he found that the poor man had been
+teased to the verge of madness by the fooling he had started--off he
+went, we knew not whither; leaving no message for any of us. He was not
+to be found by noon; and what happened by dinner-time? Why, the poor
+gentleman whom we had been fooling had also fled!"
+
+"That was indeed too bad of Mr. Kendal," said Dr. Burney.
+
+"'Twas too inconsiderate of him truly," cried Mrs. Thrale. "'Tis no
+great matter if the manager of the playhouse runs away when his play
+is produced--you remember that Mr. Colman hurried off to Bath to escape
+lampooners when the success of Dr. Goldsmith's comedy _She Stoops to
+Conquer_ had proved to all the town that he was no judge of a play;
+but for the one who has been made the object of such a jest as ours to
+escape without giving us a chance of bringing our teasing to a fitting
+climax is surely little short of infamous."
+
+"And when did you design the fitting climax to arrive, madam?" asked one
+of the circle.
+
+"Why, when the gentleman and lady should come face to face in the
+Assembly Rooms, to be sure," replied Mrs. Thrale. "We were all there to
+await the scene of their meeting; and you can judge of our chagrin when
+only the lady appeared."
+
+"We can do so, indeed," said Mrs. Darner, who was also in the circle. "I
+can well believe that you were furious. When one has arranged a burletta
+for two characters 'tis infamous when only one of the actors appears on
+the stage."
+
+Mrs. Thrale smiled the smile of the lady who knows that she is
+harbouring a surprise for her friends and only awaits the right moment
+to spring it upon them--a cat to be let out of the bag at the pulling of
+a string.
+
+"I knew that we should have your sympathy, Mrs. Darner," she said
+demurely. "You have, I doubt not, more than once experienced all the
+chagrin that follows the miscarrying of a well-planned scheme. But as
+it so happened, we were more than compensated for our ill-usage at that
+time by the unlooked-for appearance of the missing actor two nights
+later."
+
+"Oh, lud!" cried Mrs. Darner, holding up both her hands in a very dainty
+way.
+
+Mr. Garrick also lifted up his hands in amazement, but he did not need
+to exclaim anything to emphasize the effect of his gesture.
+
+Dr. Burney smiled, trying to catch the eye of Mr. Garrick, but Mr.
+Garrick took very good care that he should not succeed in doing so.
+
+"You may well cry, 'oh, lud!'" said Mrs. Thrale. "But if you had been
+in the Rooms when the man entered you would not have been able to say a
+word for surprise, I promise you. The poor gentleman had posted all the
+way from town to Tunbridge, apparently for our diversion only, and what
+a sight he was! It seems that he had got over his fright at the coupling
+of his name with the lady's, while flying to London, but from this point
+a reaction set in, and he spent all the time that he was posting back to
+the Wells adding fuel to the fire of his resolution to throw himself
+at the feet of the lady at the earliest possible moment. Was there ever
+such a comedy played, Mr. Garrick?"
+
+"'Twould be too extravagant for the theatre, madam, but not for Nature's
+playhouse," replied Garrick. "I have more than once been told the story
+of soldiers having fled in a panic from the field of battle, but on
+finding themselves in a place of safety they returned to the fight and
+fought like demons. Was there aught that could be termed demoniacal
+in the gentleman's conduct on finding himself face to face with the
+enemy--I mean the lady?"
+
+"Aught demoniacal, do you ask me?" cried Mrs. Thrale. "Oh, sir, have
+you not heard the parable of the demon that was cast out of a man, but
+finding its homeless condition unsupportable, sought out seven of its
+friends and returned with them to its former habitation, so that the
+last state of the man was more demoniacal than the first?"
+
+"I fancy I have heard the parable, madam, but its application----" began
+Garrick, when Mrs.
+
+Darner broke in upon him, crying:
+
+"Do not ever attempt to point out the aptness of the application of
+a parable, Mrs. Thrale. Do not, if you are wise. Would you lead us to
+believe that the unhappy wretch found it necessary to post up to town
+to obtain his relay of demons for his own discomfiture when so much rank
+and fashion was at the Wells, though at the fag end of the season?"
+
+"Leaving parables aside, demons and all, I can bear witness to
+the condition of the man when he entered the Rooms and strode with
+determination on his face up to where the Widow Nash was fanning
+herself--not without need," said Mrs. Thrale. "It so happened that she
+was seated under the gallery at the furthest end of the Rooms, but our
+gentleman did not pause on entering to look round for her--I tell you
+that it seemed as if he went by instinct straight up to her, and bowing
+before her, said: 'Madam, may I beg the honour of a word or two with you
+in private?'--I was close by and so were several other equally credible
+witnesses, and we heard every word. The widow looked at him coolly----"
+
+"Yes, you said she had been fanning herself," remarked Mrs. Darner, but
+without interrupting the flow of the narrative.
+
+"There was no need of a fan for her voice, I can assure you, when she
+had completed her survey of the dusty gentleman and thought fit to
+reply to him," continued Mrs. Thrale. "'I vow, sir,' said she, 'that I
+consider this room sufficiently private for anything you have to say
+to me.' She had plainly got wind of Mr. Garrick's plot and so was fully
+prepared for the worst--though some people might call it the best--that
+could happen. 'Madam,' said Mr. Kendal, 'what I have to say is meant for
+your ear alone,' and I am bound to admit that he spoke with suavity
+and dignity. 'Pray let my friends here be the judges of that,' said the
+widow. That was a pretty rebuff for any gentleman with a sense of his
+own dignity, you will say; but he did not seem to accept it in such a
+spirit. He hesitated, but only for a few moments, then he looked around
+him to see who were within hearing, and with hardly a pause, he said in
+the clearest of tones, 'I perceive that we are surrounded just now with
+some ladies who, two days ago, offered me congratulations upon my good
+fortune in winning your promise, madam; and I venture now to come
+before you to implore of you to give me permission to assume that their
+congratulations were well founded'--those were his words; we did not
+think that he had it in him to express himself so well."
+
+"And what was the lady's reply?" asked Dr. Burney, recalling the
+prophecy in which he had indulged when parting from Garrick at his own
+door.
+
+"The lady's reply was disappointing, though dignified," replied Mrs.
+Thrale. "'Sir,' she said, 'I have oft heard that the credulity of a man
+has no limits, but I have never before had so conspicuous an instance of
+the truth of this. Surely the merest schoolboy would have been able to
+inform you that you were being made the victim of one of Mr. Garrick's
+silly jests--that these ladies here lent themselves to the transaction,
+hoping to make a fool of me as well as of you; but I trust that they
+are now aware of the fact that I, at least, perceived the truth from the
+first, so that whoever has been fooled I am not that person; and so
+I have the honour to wish you and them a very good evening.' Then she
+treated us to a very elaborate curtsey and stalked away to the door,
+leaving us all amazed at her display of dignity--real dignity, not the
+stage imitation, Mr. Garrick."
+
+"You should have been there, if only to receive a lesson, Mr. Garrick,"
+said Mrs. Damer.
+
+"I hope those who had the good fortune to be present were taught a
+lesson," said another lady in the circle.
+
+"If you mean me, madam," said Mrs. Thrale, with tactful good humour,
+"I frankly allow that I profited greatly by observing the scene. 'Tis
+a dangerous game to play--that of trying to show others in a ridiculous
+light, and in future I vow that all my attention shall be given to the
+duty of avoiding making a fool of myself. Your jest miscarried, Mr.
+Garrick; though how that gentleman who fled from the Wells in that
+headlong fashion was induced to return, is beyond my knowledge."
+
+"Psha! madam, the fellow is a coxcomb and not worth discussing," cried
+Garrick. "He got no more than his deserts when the lady left him to be
+the laughing-stock of the Assembly. I knew that that would be his fate
+if he ever succeeded in summing up sufficient courage to face her."
+
+"But strange to say, we did not laugh at him then," said Mrs. Thrale.
+"He seemed to be quite a different man from the one whom we had tried
+to fool two days earlier. There was a certain dignity about him that
+disarmed us. You must allow, Mr. Garrick, that only the bravest of men
+would have had the courage to march up the Assembly Rooms and make his
+proposal to the lady in public."
+
+"That is the courage of the coxcomb who believes himself to be
+irresistible to the other sex, madam," said Garrick; "and I affirm that
+'twas most reprehensible to refrain from laughing at him." Then, putting
+his arm through that of Burney as if to stroll on with him, and so
+give the others to understand that he had had enough of Mr. Kendal as a
+topic, he whispered:
+
+"Ha, my friend, did not I prophesy aright what would be the fellow's
+fate? I know men, and women, too--ay, in some measure, though they are
+sealed books, eh, friend Burney? And you tried to persuade me that she
+would not snub him? I knew better--I knew that she--eh, what--what are
+they staring at?"
+
+"They are staring at the appearance of Mr. Kendal with the Widow Nash on
+his arm--there they are, David, and you are staring at them too," said
+Burney with a smile.
+
+"Angels and Ministers of Grace! 'Tis a man and his wife we are staring
+at! The woman has married him after all!" cried David, his hand dropping
+limply from Burney's shoulder. "A man and his wife: I know the look in
+their faces!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+|IT was, indeed, the same man who had come to consult Dr. Burney, but
+had not been allowed the chance of doing so by Garrick, a fortnight
+before--the same man, but with a marked difference, who was now walking
+across the pillared room in the Pantheon, with a smiling, well-favoured
+lady by his side; and toward the pair the eyes of all the circle whom
+Mrs. Thrale had been addressing were directed.
+
+Mrs. Thrale and her friends were too much amazed to be able to speak,
+but the lips of every one of them were holding back some exclamation of
+surprise: an acute observer would have been able easily to set down the
+various unuttered exclamations of the party, from the simple "Oh,
+Lud!" of Mrs. Thrale to the more emphatic "Merciful Powers!" of Mrs.
+Cholmondeley, though not a word was spoken between them, while Mr.
+Kendal and the lady walked, straight through the room to where they were
+standing.
+
+"Slip behind the pillar: I will cover you, my friend," whispered Dr.
+Burney to Garrick.
+
+But Garrick had no intention of doing anything so ignominious--more
+especially as he perceived that Mr. Kendal had caught sight of him; and
+it was really Garrick who advanced to meet the couple, with the air of
+a host about to welcome two long-expected guests--it was really Garrick
+who received them with one of his finest bows, and who--to add to the
+amazement of the group behind him--was greeted by Mr. Kendal and the
+lady with the friendliest of smiles (the lady was blushing, not Mr.
+Garrick).
+
+And then it was to Dr. Burney the gentleman turned.
+
+"Dear sir," he cried, "with what words should I approach you? It is to
+your counsel and Mr. Garrick's that I owe my happiness." Then he made
+his bow to the others of the group.
+
+"Mrs. Thrale," he said, when he had recovered himself, "we hoped to find
+you here with your friends, so that we might lose no moment in offering
+you our thanks for the tactful way in which you brought us together.
+Only such genius as yours, madam, could have perceived--well, all
+that you did perceive. I protest that neither Mrs. Kendal nor myself
+apprehended the too flattering truth. But the heart of a woman who has
+herself loved--ah, that is the source of such genius as you displayed
+with such subtlety. She is mine, madam; we have been married a whole
+week, and I, at least, know what a treasure--but I cannot trust myself
+to talk of my happiness just now. Perhaps at some future time I shall
+be able to tell you coherently how I felt within me that my Diana--Mrs.
+Nash, as she was then--did not mean her rebuff as a final dismissal, and
+thus I was led to her side--to implore an audience of her, in the course
+of which she confessed to me that----"
+
+But his bride prevented the flow of his eloquence by tapping him under
+the chin in exquisite playfulness with her fan, smiling roguishly at him
+first, and then looking round the group with an air of chastened triumph
+while she said:
+
+"Foolish man! Prithee remember, Ferdinand, that you are in a public
+place, and that the secrets of the confessional are sacred. I protest
+that you are exceeding a husband's privilege in revealing aught that I
+confessed when taken aback at your sudden appearance before me!"
+
+"I ask your pardon, my angel," he cried. "I had no right to say even the
+little that I have said. I suppose I shall learn discretion in time and
+with practice. But when I think of the kindly interest that some of our
+friends here showed in bringing us together, I feel that they should be
+rewarded by a repetition of the whole story."
+
+"Nay, nay, sir, you may take my word for it that we look not for such a
+reward," cried Garrick. "Such philanthropists as Mrs. Thrale and myself
+feel more than rewarded when we succeed in bringing together a lady and
+gentleman who were so plainly intended by Providence for each other's
+happiness."
+
+"It was Mr. Garrick who looked with the eyes of Providence into your
+case as associated with Mr. Kendal, madam. That is, if Puck may ever be
+thought of as assuming the r�le of Providence," said Mrs. Thrale. "For
+myself, I believe that Puck has more to do with the making of matches
+than heaven; and assuredly in this particular case the mischievous fairy
+had more than a finger. But however that may be, we can still wish you
+every happiness in life, and offer you an apology for----"
+
+"H'sh!" whispered Garrick, raising a hand. "Rauzzini is beginning to
+sing. I am sure, Mrs. Kendal, that you will willingly accept Signor
+Rauzzini's song in lieu of Mrs. Thrale's apology, however admirably
+worded the latter were sure to be."
+
+The bride smiled benignly at Mrs. Thrale, and there was more than a
+trace of triumph in her smile.
+
+Dr. Burney smiled also at the adroitness of the actor, who, he could
+perceive, had no intention of allowing himself to be incriminated by any
+confession, assuming the form of an apology, that Mrs. Thrale might make
+in a moment of contrition for having been a partner with him in a piece
+of fooling that had had a very different result from the one he (and
+she) had looked for.
+
+Garrick, still holding up a warning finger as if he had at heart the
+best interests of the composer as well as the singer of "Waft her,
+Angels," prevented another word from being spoken, though more than a
+full minute had passed before Rauzzini had breathed the first notes of
+the recitativo.
+
+But incautiously lowering his finger when the handsome Roman had begun,
+Mrs. Thrale took advantage of her release from the thraldom imposed upon
+her, to say in a low tone, looking toward the gallery in front of which
+the singer stood:
+
+"It is one angel talking to the others! Was there ever so angelic a
+man?"
+
+And little Miss Burney, who had also her eyes fixed upon the singer,
+felt that little Mrs. Thrale was not merely an angel, but a goddess. She
+expressed her opinion to this effect in her next letter to Mr. Crisp.
+
+She listened in a dream to the singing that no one could hear and remain
+unmoved, even though one had not the advantage of looking at the singer
+at the same time. Fanny Burney was too shortsighted to be able to
+distinguish one face from another at such a distance; but this made
+no difference to her; she had the face of the sweet singer ever before
+her--most clearly when she closed her eyes, as she did now, and listened
+to him.
+
+"Waft her, angels, to the skies--Waft her, angels, waft her, angels,
+waft her to the skies," rang out his fervent imploration, and she felt
+that there were no powers that could withstand the force of such an
+appeal. For herself she felt carried away on the wings of song into the
+highest heaven. She felt that harps of heaven alone could provide an
+adequate accompaniment to such a voice as his; and she gave herself up
+to it as unreservedly as a bride gives herself to the arms of her lover.
+She had that sensation of a sweet yielding to the divine influence of
+the music until she could feel it enfolding her and bearing her into the
+infinite azure of a realm more beautiful than any that her dreams had
+borne her to in the past. She wanted nothing better than this in any
+world. All that she wanted was an assurance that it would continue for
+ever and ever....
+
+With the cessation of the singing she seemed to awaken from a dream of
+divine delight, and in her awaking to retain the last thought that had
+been hers--the longing for an assurance that the delight which she was
+feeling would endure. She was awake now, and she knew that love had been
+all her dream, and that what she longed for was the assurance that
+that love would continue. And now she remembered that it was this same
+longing that had brought about her resolution that she would never go to
+her King as the beggar maid had gone to King Cophetua. There would be
+no assurance of the continuing of love between them if she had the
+humiliating feeling that he had stooped to raise her to his level.
+
+That was the thought which took possession of her mind when she had
+returned from the sublimities to which she had been borne by her lover's
+singing, and in another minute the reaction had come. She had been
+soaring high, but now she was conscious of a sinking at heart; for the
+whole building was resounding with acclamations of the singer. There did
+not seem to be anyone silent, save only herself, throughout the hall.
+Everyone seemed calling the name of Rauzzini--all seemed ready to
+throw themselves at his feet; and when he stood up to acknowledge their
+tribute of enthusiasm to his marvellous powers, there was something of
+frenzy in the way his name was flung from hundreds of voices--it was
+not enough for the people whom he had stirred to shout his name, they
+surrounded him with the banners of a great conqueror--the air was
+quivering with the lace and the silk that were being waved on all sides
+to do him honour--handkerchiefs, scarves, fans--the air was full of
+them.
+
+And there he stood high above them, smiling calmly and bending his head
+gravely to right and left in acknowledgment of all....
+
+That was his position before the world. Her heart sank within her as she
+asked herself what was hers. How could she ever hope to attain to such a
+place as should win from the world such applause as this? How could
+she ever be so vain as to think that the giving of a little book to
+the world should have an effect worthy of being compared with this
+demonstration which was shaking the Pantheon?
+
+Her heart sank to a deeper depth still when the thunders had passed
+away--reluctantly as the reverberations of a great storm--and there was
+a buzz of voices all about her--exclamations of delight--whispers of
+admiration--ladies with clasped hands, fervent in their words about the
+marvellous face of the young Roman--and her father and his friend, Mr.
+Fulke Greville, exchanging recollections of the singing of the same air
+by other vocalists, and coming gradually to the conclusion that none had
+put such feeling into it as had Rauzzini.
+
+The buzz of voices did not cease when the singer had come down from his
+gallery and was greeting some of his friends on the floor of the great
+hall. He had trouble in making his way as far as the group which he
+meant to reach. The most distinguished ladies of high quality had
+pressed round him with uncritical expressions of appreciation of his
+singing, and there was no lack of gentlemen of fashion to follow their
+example, though wondering greatly that the ladies of quality should
+allow themselves to show such transports respecting a man with no trait
+of a true-born Englishman about him. Signor Rauzzini might have indulged
+in a score of pinches of snuff out of the gold and enamelled boxes that
+were thrust forward for his acceptance with the finest artificial grace
+of a period when it was not thought effeminate to be graceful over small
+things.
+
+He bowed low to the ladies of quality, and smiled his polite rejection
+of the snuff of the gentlemen of fashion. But such convenances made it
+impossible for him to keep his eyes upon the group toward which he
+was making a necessarily slow way, and he only reached the side of Dr.
+Burney to find that Dr. Burney's daughter had disappeared. He had no
+chance of seeing how Miss Burney at his approach had slipped behind
+a pillar and suffered herself to be conducted thence to a seat by her
+cousin Edward: the fact that Edward was learning to be a painter was a
+sufficient excuse for his paying an occasional visit to such scenes
+of colour as were unfolded before the eyes of a frequenter of the
+fashionable Pantheon every night.
+
+Fanny felt that if Signor Rauzzini had come to her side after passing
+through the ranks of lace and velvet and brocade, she would have sunk
+through the floor of the hall. But she knew that it was to her side he
+was coming, and she took the opportunity of flying when he was compelled
+to make a pause in front of the flattery of the Duchess of Ancaster.
+
+She was painfully shy at all times, but overwhelmingly so at that
+moment, though she knew that she was the only woman in the place who
+would make the attempt to evade the distinction which threatened her.
+How could she remain where she had been with all eyes in the room upon
+her? She felt that it would be impossible.
+
+Her heart was beating quickly as she thought:
+
+"Not yet--not yet."
+
+After all there is no more womanly trait than that of fleeing from a
+lover; but Fanny Burney was yielding to its impulse without an attempt
+to analyse it, and without being consoled by the reflection of the
+woman of the younger world, that if it is woman's instinct to fly from a
+lover, it is a lover's instinct to pursue.
+
+She had scarcely finished the cup of ice which her cousin had brought
+her, before the man had found her.
+
+But now the Gabrielli was beginning to sing, and all eyes were directed
+upon the Gabrielli, so that no one but Rauzzini saw how Dr. Burney's
+over-shy daughter was flushing.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+|THEY spoke in French, with an occasional phrase in Italian when they
+found the other tongue lacking in melody or in the exact shade of
+meaning that they sought to express. Edward Burney thought that the
+moment was one that favoured his ambition to study the pose of Madame
+Gabrielli, with a view to starting on a portrait that should make him
+famous. He asked Fanny's permission to allow him to take up a place
+a few yards beyond the pillar. He promised not to be long absent, and
+Fanny had not the heart to detain him.
+
+"You fled from me--was that kind?" asked Rauzzini when the cousin had
+moved away, but was still in view.
+
+"Ah," said she, "one who has my odious selfconsciousness does not ask
+what is kind or unkind, she simply flies."
+
+"But you knew that I was coming to your side?" said he.
+
+"I know that you are wise enough to value the criticism of a musician
+like my father above the vapid phrases of the people of fashion,"
+replied Fanny.
+
+"That is true indeed," said he. "I value a word of praise or blame from
+Dr. Burney as precious. But Dr. Burney has a daughter whose words are to
+me as precious."
+
+"She is not here to-night," said Fanny. "My sister Esther, to whom you
+refer, is indeed a discriminating critic. She told me how exquisitely
+you sang at the concert where you met her--it is scarcely a fortnight
+ago."
+
+"Dr. Burney has more daughters than that one," said he.
+
+Fanny laughed.
+
+"He has indeed more daughters than one," she said. "We were a household
+of daughters before Esther married and when my brother was in the South
+Seas. But only Esther is critical as a musician."
+
+"In the name of heaven, do you think that it is only possible for me to
+value words that refer to my singing?" he asked. "Do you not know that I
+would rather listen to your voice than----"
+
+"Than Madame Gabrielli's?" said Fanny; he had spoken his last sentence
+in too loud a tone, even though the Gabrielli's brilliant vocalism
+usually admitted of a conversation being carried on with some vehemence
+in the great room of the Pantheon without causing remark.
+
+He smiled at her warning, and it was in a subdued voice that he said:
+
+"I am tired of hearing the Gabrielli; but what of your voice? How often
+have you given me the chance of hearing it? Even now you fled from me as
+though I carried the plague about with me! Was that kind or unkind?"
+
+"You do not entertain the thought that perhaps I have not yet tired
+of Madame Gabrielli's vocalism: I knew that she was at the point of
+beginning her aria."
+
+"You would sacrifice me on the altar of your favourite? Well, perhaps
+you would be justified in doing so. Hold up your finger now and I shall
+be mute as a fish until Gabrielli has had her last shriek. I can still
+look at you--it will not spoil your appreciation of the aria if I merely
+look at you."
+
+"I think I would rather that you talked to me than merely looked at me.
+I do not invite people to look at me, and happily few people do. I am
+not conspicuous. I am the insignificant one. There is Mrs. Thrale, for
+instance; she has been several times at our house, and every time she
+comes she inquires who is the little one."
+
+He smiled and held up his finger in imitation of the way she had rebuked
+him for talking too loud.
+
+"H'sh; I am anxious to hear the Signora Gabrielli," he said, and the
+express on that he made his face assume at that moment would
+have convinced anyone that he was giving all his attention to the
+singing--drinking in every note with the earnestness of an enthusiast.
+There was a certain boyish exaggeration in his expression that was very
+amusing to Fanny, though less observing persons would have been ready
+to accept it as evidence of the generous appreciation on the part of one
+great singer of the success of another.
+
+So he remained until the _cavatina_ had come to an end; and then he was
+loudest in his cry of "Brava!"
+
+"It is a treat--a great--a sacred treat," said he, turning to Fanny. "I
+do not think I ever heard that song before. Has it a name, I wonder?"
+
+"If I mistake not it is from an opera in which a certain Roman tenore
+made a name for himself last year, in happy conjunction with Madame
+Gabrielli," said Fanny.
+
+"Is it possible? I had not heard of that circumstance," said he, with a
+look of the most charming innocence in his large eyes. It was his hands
+that were most expressive, however, as he added:
+
+"But it was last year, you say, mademoiselle? Ah, who is it that
+remembers an opera from one year to another? No one, except the
+_impresario_ who has lost his good money, or somebody's else's money,
+over its production. Enough, the _cantatrice_ has given us of her best,
+and is there now any reason why we should remain dumb? The great charm
+of the singing of these brilliant artistes of last year's operas is that
+when they have sung, they have sung--they leave one nothing to think
+about afterward. Is not that so, mademoiselle?"
+
+"They leave one nothing to think about--except their singing," said
+Fanny. "For myself, I am still thinking of 'Waft her, angels,' although
+nearly half an hour must have passed since I heard the last notes. And
+it seems to me that when half a century will have passed I shall still
+be thinking of it."
+
+He did not offer her the conventional acknowledgement of a bow. He
+only looked at her with those large eyes of his; they were capable of
+expressing in a single glance all the tenderness of feeling of a poem.
+
+"I have not sung in vain," he said in a low tone. "My old _maestro_ gave
+me the advice one day when I was proving to him my success in reaching
+the high note which I had been striving for years to bring into my
+compass: 'That is all very well,' he said. 'You have aimed at touching
+that rare note, now your aim must be to touch the heart of everyone who
+hears you sing.' I sometimes think that he set for me too difficult a
+task."
+
+"Not too difficult--for you," said she.
+
+"There are dangers," he said thoughtfully. "I have known singers who
+tried to reach the hearts of their hearers by tricks--yes, and they
+succeeded through these illegitimate means in making themselves popular,
+while far better singers who had a scorn of such tricks and gave their
+best to all who listened to them, failed to please anyone who had not a
+knowledge of the true boundary of music."
+
+"I have seen these tricksters, too," said Fanny. "I have witnessed their
+sentimental grimaces--their head shakings--their appeal to the feelings
+with pathetic eyes turned heavenward. They made me ashamed of
+them--ashamed of myself for listening to them, though people about me
+had been moved to tears. But I think that the people who are easily
+moved to tears are those who retain an impression the shortest space of
+time."
+
+"You give me confidence--encouragement," he cried. "I have made up my
+mind that if I cannot reach a heart by the straight King's highway, I
+will not try to do so by any bypath. Bypaths are, we know, the resorts
+of brigands: they may captivate a heart or two, but only to leave them
+empty afterwards."
+
+So they talked together for many minutes. Faney Burney had a sufficient
+acquaintance among musicians, vocal as well as instrumental, to have
+learned, long ago, that they can easily be prevented from talking on any
+other subject than music, and the same reflection that had caused her
+to say that "Not yet--not yet," had impelled her to lead Rauzzini in
+another direction than that in which he had shown so strong a tendency
+to go. He had been trying to make her understand that he had travelled
+through the obstructions of the hall not in order that he might obtain
+the criticism of so accomplished a _maestro_ as Dr. Burney upon his
+singing, but in order that he should have a chance of talking to Dr.
+Burney's unaccomplished daughter; he had shown her that his wish was to
+converse on the topic of this unaccomplished daughter; but she had no
+mind to acquiesce in his aims for the present. She still felt herself to
+be the beggar maid, and she would not allow her king to get any nearer
+to her.
+
+It was not until her cousin had returned to where she was seated, that
+the young Italian found that he had not made much progress with his
+suit. He had intended that this _t�te-�-t�te_ with her should make
+her aware of how he felt in regard to her, but he had allowed his
+opportunity to pass, and in place of talking about her he had been led
+to talk of himself.
+
+That was how he expressed himself to her when he found that their
+_t�te-�-t�te_ was at an end.
+
+"How has this come about?" he cried in surprise. "How is it that I have
+shown myself to be so vain as to make speeches about my singing when I
+meant to talk to you of yourself?"
+
+"'Twas I who found a more profitable topic for you, _signore mio_," she
+replied, feeling her way through the words of his native tongue, for he
+had spoken out his surprise in Italian.
+
+He shook his head and made a gesture with his hands.
+
+"But it is a mystery!" he said in French. "I had no desire to talk about
+myself or my singing. I meant to tell you what was in my mind when I saw
+you entering this place with your father. Shall we retrace our steps in
+our conversation until I find how it was that I took a wrong turning?
+Alas! I fear that it would not be possible!"
+
+"It would not be possible, indeed," she replied. "Did you not say
+something about the bypaths being dangerous with banditti? We kept
+our feet upon the King's highway, which is safe. I was swept off my
+feet--carried away--away--by your singing of the aria; I had scarce
+touched the earth once more when you came to my side, and now we are
+parting happily, you to realize your aspirations, I to--to--well,
+to retain for ever the memory of your singing--the memory of those
+celestial harmonies into the midst of which I was wafted by the angels
+of your imploration. That is enough for one evening of my life. Nay, you
+must not speak another word lest the charm of all should fade away. I
+shall go home to dream of angels."
+
+"And I shall go to dream of you," he said in a low tone.
+
+He did not hold her hand so long as Thomas Barlowe had done when parting
+from her, but she felt that somehow he had accomplished more by his
+reserve than Thomas had achieved by his impetuosity. She hoped that she
+might never see Thomas again; but for Signor Rauzzini----
+
+They parted.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+|THESE foreigners!" exclaimed young Edward Burney when Rauzzini had left
+them, and Fanny was asking her cousin if her father was not looking for
+her. "These foreigners! Your father is talking with another of them--an
+Italian too, as I live--I have seen him in St. Martin's Street--Signor
+Piozzi. But I suppose Uncle Burney likes to keep in touch with them. The
+town is swarming with them: they are even to be found about Leicester
+Fields. Why do some people fancy that we must have Italians to sing
+for us? There are plenty of good singers in England, without a drop of
+foreign blood in their veins. A good sea song with a chorus that is easy
+to get into the swing of--that's English and honest."
+
+"Honest down to the hoarsest note," said Fanny. "You and James are at
+one in the matter of songs."
+
+"Cousin Jim hates foreigners, as is quite proper that an officer in a
+King's ship should," said Edward stoutly.
+
+"Not all foreigners," said Fanny smiling. "You forget how kindly he took
+to Prince Omai."
+
+"Oh, a South Sea Islander is different," cried her cousin. "I expect
+that the South Seas will soon become as English as ourselves if Captain
+Cook goes on discovering islands."
+
+"Edward," said Fanny, after a pause sufficient to allow of the
+introduction of a new topic; "Edward, could you make it convenient to
+call at the Orange Coffee House some day soon to inquire if there is
+another letter for Mr. Grafton?"
+
+"I'll not omit it on any account," he replied. "Oh, yes, Mr. Grafton,
+I'll collect your correspondence for you, never fear. You have not let
+anyone else into the secret, I hope?"
+
+"No one knows it except Susy and Lottie and Charles and Hetty; but Hetty
+only knows that I wrote the book, not that it is to be printed--Charles
+is still away from us, or I would not trouble you, Edward."
+
+"Poor Charlie grew tired of the Orange Coffee House, did he not? He told
+me how you made him your messenger at first, disguising him in a cloak
+and a gentleman's hat, so that he might not seem quite the boy that he
+was. But how the secret has been kept so well is a wonder to me--kept
+from the powers that be, I mean--uncle and aunt. I wonder if your mother
+never had a suspicion of what was going on, especially as she knew all
+about your writing long ago."
+
+"I think that it was the copying out of the padre's History that saved
+me," said Fanny. "Many a page of my novel I wrote when she believed that
+I was copying the notes for the History--yes, that, and the letters
+which Mr. Crisp insists on my sending him every week. But even with
+these excuses I could sometimes not get through more than three or four
+pages of my own book during a whole week."
+
+"How will you look when the secret is let out--it must be let out some
+day, you know? If the writing a novel is thought shocking, how will
+Uncle Burney receive the news, think you? He has not yet given you leave
+to publish it."
+
+There was a troubled look on poor Fanny's face as she replied, after a
+pause:
+
+"I have often meant to ask father's permission, but I was not able to
+summon up courage enough to face him with the whole truth. But it cannot
+be delayed much longer. Perhaps I might write him a letter about it some
+time when I am at Chessington."
+
+"I don't envy you the duty, my dear Fanny," said lie. "But I think that
+the sooner you get it over the easier you will feel. I suppose that
+writing a novel is worse than writing a 'History of Music.' I wonder why
+you took so much trouble over the business."
+
+"I could not help it," she cried. "I have often wondered myself why I
+was sitting up in that cold room at the top of the house, writing until
+my fingers were benumbed, when I might have been at my comfortable
+sewing in front of a fire downstairs; but I could not help it--I could
+not help doing it, Eddy."
+
+Eddy never reached that point in his career as a painter when he found
+the artist's impulse to create too great to be resisted. He could not
+appreciate her explanation.
+
+"'I couldn't help it,' that's what we were used to say long ago, when
+we got into mischief; I hope that Uncle Burney and Aunt Burney--don't
+forget her in this matter--I hope that they will accept your excuse.
+Anyhow, you may trust me to act as your 'Mr. Grafton' at the Orange
+Coffee House some day this week."
+
+He caught a glimpse of his uncle, Dr. Burney, sitting with Mr. Greville,
+so that he had no trouble in placing Fanny once more in charge of her
+father. He could see that the girl was a little downcast, and tried to
+cheer her up a bit by whispering in a sly way into her ear:
+
+"Good-night, Mr. Grafton; my best respects to Mrs. Grafton and the
+children--especially Evelina."
+
+The smile that Fanny gave in acknowledgment of his pleasantry did not
+quite carry conviction that his well-meant effort had been successful.
+He went away feeling as much sympathy for her as was possible for him
+to have in common with the reflection that if she was in a difficult
+position, it was wholly one of her own seeking. What could have induced
+a girl who had been carefully brought up, and provided with an excellent
+stepmother, to write a novel, placing herself thereby on a level
+with those dreadful ladies whose productions were prohibited in every
+self-respecting household and only read by stealth when obtained at
+a cost of twopence--more than the best of them were worth--at the
+circulating library?
+
+Yes, poor Fanny was undoubtedly to be pitied; but she had really only
+herself to blame for the trouble that was looming in front of her when
+the secret of her authorship should be revealed to her father and her
+excellent stepmother--one of the best judges to be found anywhere of all
+sorts of needlework--not merely plain sewing and buttonholing, but satin
+stitch, herring-boning and running and felling.
+
+The very next day Cousin Edward called at St. Martin's Street, carrying
+with him a small parcel neatly done up in white paper. He was lucky
+enough to find Fanny and Susan alone in the work-room; and after asking
+mysteriously if there was any chance of his uncle or aunt coming
+upon them, and being assured that they were both away for the day, he
+carefully locked the door of the room, saying in the whisper of a man of
+plots and mysteries:
+
+"'Tis better to be sure than sorry. In matters of this nature 'tis
+impossible to be too cautious."
+
+He then handed the parcel to Fanny, who gave an exclamation when she saw
+that it was addressed:
+
+"_To Mr. Grafton, at the Orange Coffee House, Orange Street_."
+
+She opened the parcel, and found it to contain a printer's unbound copy
+of a book, the title page of which stared up at her: "_Evelina; or, A
+Young Lady's Entrance into the World_," and with it was a letter from
+Mr. Lowndes, the bookseller, presenting his compliments to Mr. Grafton,
+with the request that Mr. Grafton would read the book and prove it as
+soon as possible, returning the list of errata to Mr. Lowndes, so that
+the edition might go to press for early publication.
+
+There it lay on the table in front of her. She read the letter standing,
+and remained on her feet, looking down at the unbound book. It had a
+queer, half-dressed appearance, lacking covers; and when, after some
+minutes of silence, Susy took a step or two closer to it, and, with her
+hand on Fanny's arm, looked down on it also, the picture that they made
+suggested two sisters looking into the cradle where the first baby of
+one of them lay. The expression on Susy's face--a mingling of wonder and
+curiosity, with delight not far off--was exactly that which the younger
+sister of the picture might be expected to wear, catching a glimpse of
+the undressed morsel of humanity in its first cot.
+
+Susy put her hand down to it, and moved the printed sheets about. She
+read the title page down to the last name on the imprint, and then she
+flung up her hands, crying:
+
+"How lovely! how lovely! But it seems wonderful! How did it come into
+being? It looks like a real thing now that we see it printed. The copy
+that you wrote out in that disguised hand seemed somehow quite different
+from this. There is life in this. It feels warm, actually warm, Fanny.
+Oh, don't you love it, dear?"
+
+Fanny, the young mother, shook her head, but with no significance, so
+far as Susy could see.
+
+"'Tis too late now," said Edward gloomily, taking on himself the burden
+of interpreting that head-shake. "You are bound down to go on with it
+now. You should have thought of all this before."
+
+"What nonsense is this you are talking?" cried Susy, turning upon
+him almost indignantly; for his tone suggested an aspersion upon the
+offspring. "What do you say is too late now? Do you mean to say that
+there's anything to be ashamed of in this? Cannot you see that she did
+not put her name to it? Who is there to know that it came from this
+house? The name of Burney nowhere appears on it."
+
+"That's so much, at any rate," said he.
+
+"Do you mean to say that you don't think it quite wonderful, Eddy?"
+cried Susy. "And getting twenty pounds for it--twenty pounds! And you
+say something about it being too late!"
+
+"I only judged from the way Fanny shook her head," said he.
+
+"Oh, that was not what Fanny was thinking at all--now was it, Fanny?"
+said Susy encouragingly to her sister.
+
+"I don't know quite what I meant or what I mean even now," replied
+Fanny. "It made me feel for the moment somehow as if I had appeared in a
+street full of people before I had quite finished dressing!"
+
+"Ah!" exclaimed Edward.
+
+"But that is nonsense, dear," said Susy, still consolatory. "The book is
+not yourself."
+
+"Not all myself, but part of myself--that is what I feel," said Fanny.
+
+"I cannot see that that is so. You are you--you yourself quite apart
+from the book. Whatever the book may be, you will still remain Fanny
+Burney, the best daughter and the best sister in the world. What does it
+matter if people--foolish people who know nothing about it--laugh at it
+or say nasty things about it? Do you think that that will make any of us
+like you the less?"
+
+She put her arm about Fanny and kissed her on the cheek, and Fanny's
+tears began to fall. The young man standing by felt more uneasy than
+he had ever felt in his life. He crossed the room and looked out of the
+window, turning his back upon the scene of the sisters. He did not know
+what to say to a girl when once she allowed herself to weep. He wished
+with all his heart that he had not been dragged into this business. But
+Fanny's tears convinced him that his first impression of her reception
+of her book was the correct one: she was, like other young mothers he
+had heard of, bitterly repentant when it was too late.
+
+The next sound of which he became aware was of the crinkling of the
+stiff paper of the wrapper. One of the girls was folding up the parcel.
+He glanced round and saw that it was Fanny herself who was so engaged.
+She had dried her tears; the expression on her face was one of
+resignation--one of determination to make the best of a bad matter.
+
+"Ah, that's better," said he, going to her and picking up the string
+from the floor. "There's no use crying over spilt milk, is there, Fanny?
+We have all kept your secret loyally, and no one need ever know that
+you so far forgot yourself. Certainly the revelation will never come
+from my lips."
+
+Fanny burst out laughing.
+
+"Oh, dear Eddy, you are the best cousin that any poor girl could have,"
+she said. "Your words have helped me greatly. They have helped to make
+me feel what is the aspect of the world in regard to my poor little
+story. It has been my constant companion night and day for three years
+and more. I worked at it in the cold and I tried how I could improve
+pages of it, copying it and recopying it; I practised a duplicity which
+was foreign to my nature in writing it--I have deceived my father and my
+mother about it--I wasted my eyesight over it--I robbed myself of sleep
+so that I might complete it, and when it was completed I lay awake in
+anxiety lest no bookseller would look at it, all this trouble I had with
+it, so that the world might have of my best, and what is the verdict of
+the world after all this? You have pronounced it, dear Eddy--you said
+thoughtfully and consolingly--'There's no use crying over spilt milk.'
+You are quite right. Not another tear will I shed over this poor little
+bantling of mine. 'A Young Lady's Entrance into the World'? Nay, call it
+rather a rickety brat that should never have made its entrance into the
+world at all."
+
+"I should be ashamed of myself if I ever spoke of it in such terms,"
+cried Susy, looking indignantly at her cousin as though he had abused
+it in that phrase. "'Rickety brat,' indeed! Oh, I should be ashamed. It
+looked so much alive--more alive, I think, than if it was in its covers.
+Let us sit down and read it together, Fanny."
+
+Cousin Edward felt that he was being badly treated between these
+sisters. That last remark of Susy was rather more than a suggestion
+that he might go as soon as it pleased him. He had not any previous
+experience of young women and their offspring. He could not know
+that their attitude in such circumstances is one of hostility to the
+male--that they resent his appearance as an intrusion.
+
+"I am glad that you are so pleased," said he, with only a trace of
+irritability in his voice. "And I am glad that I have been of any use to
+you, Cousin Fanny. After all, the thing is yours, not Susy's."
+
+"That is true, indeed," cried Fanny. "And it is I who offer you
+my gratitude for your help. Believe me, Eddy, I am sensible of the
+adroitness you have shown in this matter ever since we let you into our
+secret; and if any trouble comes from what we have done you may be quite
+sure that I will accept the entire responsibility for it."
+
+"Oh, so far as that goes, I do not shrink from taking my share," said
+he magnanimously. "I do not feel quite without blame--I am a man and
+I should have warned you at the outset. But you had nearly finished it
+before I heard anything of it--you must not forget that."
+
+"That is true indeed," said Fanny. "I was self-willed. I wonder was it
+vanity that impelled me. Never mind! It cannot be helped now. It may
+never be heard of again."
+
+"There's always that to remember," said he, with the eagerness of a
+drowning man grasping at a straw.
+
+"And I believe that the chances are greatly in favour of that hope being
+realized. Thank you again for your encouragement, dear Eddy," said she.
+
+"Oh, that's nothing--nothing worth talking about," said he, picking up
+his gloves. "You can command me always, Cousin Fanny. And you have seen
+that I can keep a secret. Now mind you don't leave that lying about"--he
+pointed to the parcel, the string of which Susy was knotting--"and, be
+advised by me, turn the key in the lock when you are working at it."
+
+"Yes," said Susy, "we'll be sure to do our best to prevent anyone from
+suspecting that we have a secret, by locking ourselves in."
+
+"Caution--nothing like caution," said he in a whisper, unfastening the
+door and putting his head out to glance to right and left of the short
+corridor. He held up his finger. "All safe so far," he whispered; "no
+one is in sight."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+|THE moment he disappeared, Susy slipped the knot which she had just
+made on the parcel and flung the paper away.
+
+"Now we can settle down to it properly, Fanny," she cried, catching
+up the bundle of unstitched sheets and throwing herself back upon the
+little sofa. "Come beside me, dear, and we shall go through every word
+together. Never mind what Eddy said; I think it looks quite lovely, and
+how easily it reads--just like poetry--'Evelina'!--how did you think of
+that sweet name?--'_or, A Young Lady's Entrance into the World_.' Not
+a mistake so far. The printers must surely be careful men! And now that
+you come to think of it, this is really the entrance of the Young Lady
+into the world. Here she is, smiling, but a little shy--just like her
+mamma--your Evelina takes after you, dear--now, confess that there is
+something agreeably shy in the italics printing of that line beginning
+with '_A Young Lady's Entrance_,' Fanny; it may be wrong to write a
+novel, but don't you think that this is worth it? Edward is a goose
+to talk as he did about crying over spilt milk. I wonder that you had
+patience to listen to him."
+
+"Eddy is a dear boy, and he only said what he knew nearly everybody else
+would be disposed to say about this business. I started the story, as
+you know, half in fun--by way of exercising my hand--but then it got
+hold of me, and it became deadly earnest, and now--oh, Susy, what I feel
+now about it is just what I said to Edward: it seems as if it were the
+best part of myself that I am giving to the world. I wonder if it is
+right for anyone who has written a book, if it be only a novel, to look
+upon it in that light."
+
+"Why should it not be right? Didn't you put all your thoughts into it,
+and are not one's thoughts part of oneself?" said Susy. "And although so
+many people look down upon novels--all the novels that have been written
+since Mr. Richardson died--still--oh, did not Dr. Johnson once write
+a novel? Yes, 'Rasselas' was what he called it. I tried to read it
+but----"
+
+"H'sh, Susy. Dr. Johnson might write anything that he pleased. Though
+Dr. Johnson wrote a novel, that should be no excuse for such as I having
+the audacity to do the like."
+
+"I suppose that's what some people will say. But I can't see that if a
+good man does an evil thing, it becomes a good thing simply because he
+does it."
+
+"Stop, Susy: I remember that he confessed to someone, who told it to Mr.
+Crisp, that he had written 'Rasselas' in order to get money enough to
+pay for his mother's funeral."
+
+"Oh, in that case--might he not have written something a good deal
+better, Fanny? Oh, I see that you are stricken with horror at my
+thinking anything that came from Dr. Johnson to be dull. I daresay I
+began reading it too soon: I should have waited until I had learned that
+if a great man writes a book it is a great book, but that if a simple
+girl writes a novel--well, there's no use crying over spilt milk. Now
+that's the last word that I have to say, for I mean to read every word
+that's printed here--here--here!" She brought down her open hand on the
+topmost sheets of "Evelina" in three crescendo slaps, and then tucked
+her feet under her and buried herself in the book.
+
+Fanny sat laughing beside her; and when Susy paid no attention to her
+laughter, she continued sitting there in silence, while Susy read page
+after page.
+
+Several minutes had passed before the authoress asked:
+
+"How does the thing read, dear?"
+
+Susy gave a start at the sound of her voice and looked around her as if
+she had just been awakened. This should have been enough for Fanny. She
+should not have repeated her question: it was already answered.
+
+"How does the thing read, Susy?"
+
+"How does it read?" cried Susy. "Oh, Fanny, it reads exactly like a
+book--exactly. There is no difference between this and a real book. Oh,
+'tis a thousand times nicer to read in print than it was as you wrote
+it. It is so good, too!--the best story I ever read! I can't understand
+how you ever came to write it. You who have seen nothing of life--how
+did such a story ever come to you?"
+
+"I wish I knew," replied Fanny. "And do you think that anyone else will
+read it now that it is printed?" she asked (she was rapidly acquiring
+the most prominent traits of the complete novel writer).
+
+"Anyone else? Nay, everyone--everyone will read it, and everyone will
+love it. How could anyone help--even daddy and mamma? Now please don't
+interrupt me again."
+
+Down went Susy's face once more among the printed sheets, and Fanny
+watched her with delight. She had been quite ready a short time before
+to accept the verdict of Cousin Edward as equivalent to that of the
+public upon her book; and now she was prepared to accept Susy as the
+representative of all readers of taste and discrimination.
+
+"Edward--psha! What could he know about it?" she was ready to exclaim:
+every moment was bringing her nearer to the complete novelist.
+
+"Surely," she thought, "there can be no dearer pleasure in life than to
+watch the effect of one's own book upon an appreciative reader!"
+
+(The appreciative reader is always the one who is favourably impressed;
+the other sort knows nothing about what constitutes an interesting
+book.)
+
+It was the first draught of which she had ever partaken of this
+particular cup of happiness, and it was a bombard. She was draining it
+to the very dregs: it was making her intoxicated, even though it was
+only offered to her by her younger sister, who had never read half a
+dozen novels in all her life, and these surreptitiously. She could know
+by the varying changes in expression on Susy's face what place she had
+come to in the book: the turning over of the pages was no guide to her,
+for she had no idea of the quantity of her writing the printers had
+put into a page, but she had no trouble in finding Susy's place, so
+exquisitely reflective was the girl's face of the incidents among which
+she was wandering. Surely little Susy had always been her favourite
+sister (she was smiling at one of the drolleries of characterization
+upon which she had come); oh, there could be no doubt that she had
+never loved any of her sisters as she loved Susy (Susy's eyes were
+now becoming watery, and Fanny knew that she had-reached the first of
+Evelina's troubles).
+
+It was the happiest hour of Fanny's life, and she gave herself up to
+it. She did not feel any irresistible desire to judge for herself if the
+opinion expressed by Susy respecting the story was correct or otherwise.
+She had no impulse to see how her ideas "looked in print." She was
+content to observe the impression they were making upon her first lay
+reader. She had a vague suspicion that her own pleasure in reading
+the book would be infinitely less than the pleasure she derived from
+following the course of the story in her sister's face.
+
+Half an hour had actually passed before Susy seemed to awaken to the
+realities of life. She jumped up from the sofa with an exclamation of
+surprise, and then glanced down at Fanny with an inquiring look on her
+face--a puzzled look that gave the seal to Fanny's happiness.
+
+"You are wondering how I come to be here, Susy," said she smiling. "You
+are wondering how I come to be mixed up with the Branghtons and
+the Mervains and the rest of them. You would make me out to be an
+enchantress carrying you into the midst of a strange society; and I
+don't want any more delightful compliments, dear."
+
+"Oh, Fanny, 'tis so wonderful--so----"
+
+"I don't want to hear anything about it beyond what you have already
+told me, my dear Susy. I watched your face and it told me all. Give me
+a kiss, Susy. You have given me a sensation of pleasure such as I never
+knew before, and such as, I fear, I shall never know again."
+
+In an instant the two girls were in each other's arms, mingling their
+tears and then their laughter, but exchanging no word until they had
+exhausted every other means of expressing what they felt.
+
+It was Susy who spoke first.
+
+"Take it away, Fanny," she said. "Take the book away, for I know that if
+I read any more of it I shall betray your secret to all the house. They
+will read it on my face every time I look at you."
+
+"I think that the hour has come for me to relieve you of the precious
+book," said Fanny. "There is the letter from Mr. Lowndes asking me to
+make out the list of errata as quickly as possible, and I do believe
+that I shall have to read the book before I can oblige him."
+
+"'Twas thoughtless for me to jump into the middle as I did, when you had
+to read it," cried Susy. "But there is really no mistake on any page, so
+far as I could see."
+
+"Unless the whole is a mistake," said Fanny. "But I will not suggest that
+now, having seen your face while you were devouring it. Dear Susy, if I
+find many such readers I shall be happy."
+
+She gathered together the loose sheets and carried them off to the
+little room at the top of the house where it was understood she wrote
+her long weekly letter to Mr. Crisp, who had made himself a hermit
+at Chessington, but who, like some other hermits, looked forward
+with impatience to the delightful glimpses of the world which he had
+forsaken, afforded to him on every page written by her.
+
+Susy did not see her again until dinner-time, and by that time the
+younger girl felt that she had herself under such complete control
+that she could preserve inviolate the secret of the authorship until it
+should cease to be a secret. The result of her rigid control of herself
+was that her brother James said to her when they were having tea in the
+drawing-room:
+
+"What was the matter with you at dinner, Sue? You looked as if you were
+aware that something had happened and you were fearful lest it might be
+found out. Have you broken a china ornament, or has the cat been turning
+over the leaves of the 'History of Music' with her claws, and left her
+signature on the morocco of the cover?"
+
+"What nonsense!" cried Susan. "Nothing has happened. What was there to
+happen, prithee tell me?"
+
+"Ah, that is beyond my power," he replied. "I suppose you girls will
+have your secrets--ay, ay; until some day you reveal them to another
+girl with the strictest of cautions never to let the matter go beyond
+her--and so forth--and so forth. Never mind, I'll not be the one to
+tempt you to blab. I never yet had a secret told to me that was worth
+wasting words over."
+
+"If I had a secret of importance I think that you would be a safe person
+to tell it to," said Susy.
+
+"You are right there," he assented with a nautical wink. "You could find
+in me the safest depository you could wish for; you might safely depend
+upon my forgetting all about it within the hour."
+
+He did not trouble her any further, but she felt somewhat humiliated
+to think that she had had so little control of herself as to cause her
+brother's suspicions to be aroused. She thought that it would only be a
+matter of minutes when her father or her stepmother would approach her
+with further questions. Happily, however, it seemed that James was the
+keenest observer in the household, for no one put a question to her
+respecting her tell-tale face.
+
+Still she was glad when she found herself safely and snugly in bed and
+so in a position to whisper across the room to her sister Charlotte
+the news that Fanny's novel had been printed and that a copy was safely
+locked up in Fanny's desk, and that it looked lovely in its new form.
+
+Charlotte was greatly excited, but thought that Fanny might have told
+her the news before dinner.
+
+"Poor Fanny! she will have to tell the Padre to-morrow and ask his leave
+to--to do what she has already done without it. Poor Fanny!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+|A FEW days later Dr. Burney was at the point of setting out for
+Chessington to share Mr. Crisp's hermitage until the end of the week. He
+had already said good-bye to the household; but Fanny accompanied him to
+the door. It was her last chance, she knew. She had long ago made up her
+mind that one of her secrets must be told to him, and she had more than
+once, since the printed sheets had been brought to her, tried to
+screw up her courage to the point of telling him, but she had not yet
+succeeded. And now he was going to Chessington for four days, and in
+the meantime the book should be returned to the printer. It was the last
+chance she would have of discharging the duty which was incumbent on
+her. She had been hovering around him in the hall, shaking out his
+gloves for him, polishing the gold knob of his cane, picking a scrap of
+dust from the collar of his travelling-cloak. In another minute he would
+be gone--her opportunity would be gone.
+
+And then came the relieving thought of further procrastination:
+
+"I shall write to him at Chessington and confess all."
+
+It seemed as though she had uttered her thought aloud, for he turned to
+her with his hand on the latch of the hall door, saying:
+
+"You will write to Chessington to-morrow or the day after, my dear. It
+is no trouble to you to write. You enjoy it, do you not?"
+
+"Oh, it is my chief enjoyment. That is why I have been practising it
+so much, just as the others have been practising their music. I have no
+music in my soul, so I--I have been writing. Of course, it is not to be
+expected that I could do more than write some nonsense--my equivalent to
+the strumming of the scales."
+
+"It pleases me greatly to hear that," said he. "But you do yourself an
+injustice; Mr. Crisp never ceases to praise your letters."
+
+"He is praising his own pupil then," said she, "for 'twas he who first
+taught me how to write, and now I have been putting together some
+imaginary letters, and I thought that if he could see them printed in
+front of him he would be amused."
+
+"Imaginary letters? Why not continue your real ones, my dear? It would
+cost a great deal to have your imaginary ones printed."
+
+"My dear father," she cried, "you surely do not think that I would ask
+you for money to pay for my whim? But if I could prevail on someone--a
+bookseller--to print what I write, I hope you will consent to my doing
+so--not putting my name to the thing, of course?"
+
+"And does my Fanny believe that 'tis all so easy to persuade a
+bookseller to pay her printer's bill?" he said, pinching her ear.
+"Booksellers are shrewd men of business."
+
+"But even men of business have their weak moments," said she. "And
+so if--if--you would not think it too bold of me to let James take my
+parcel to a bookseller? You would not forbid me to try to realize my
+ambition?"
+
+"You may be sure that the one to frustrate your aims will not be your
+father," said he, smiling shrewdly. "I will consent if--ah, there is
+the fatal if--if your bookseller consents. Now goodbye, my dear child.
+I will take your love to your Daddy Crisp, and tell him to await a real
+letter from you--not an imaginary one."
+
+She stood on tiptoe to kiss him--but even then he had to stoop before
+his lips were on her forehead.
+
+He was gone in another moment. She stood at the inner side of the closed
+door and listened to the rattling of the wheels of the chaise over the
+cobble-stones.
+
+So the ordeal that she dreaded had been faced, and how simple a thing it
+had turned out after all! Her father had treated the idea which she
+had submitted to him as if it were nothing beyond the thought of a
+simpleton--a foolish, simple girl who knew nothing of the world of
+business and booksellers, and who fancied that a bookseller would print
+everything that was sent to him.
+
+He had delivered that contingent "if" with the shake of the head and the
+shrewd smile of one who is acquainted with the seamy side of
+business, in the presence of a child who fancies that printing follows
+automatically upon the writing of a book and that there are thousands
+of buyers eagerly awaiting the chance of securing everything that passes
+through a printing-press. She had perceived just what was in his mind;
+and his consent, followed by that contingent "if," to her publishing
+what she had written, was given to her with the same freedom that would
+have accompanied his permission to appropriate all the gold used in
+paving the streets of the City. She could see from the way he smiled
+that he felt that she knew as little about the conditions under which
+books are printed as a child does about the paving of the streets of the
+City.
+
+She knew that he would never again refer to the subject of those
+imaginary letters of hers--he would be too considerate of her feelings
+to do so; he would have no desire to humiliate her. He would not even
+rally her in a playful way about her literary work, asking her how the
+printing was progressing, and if she had made up her mind to start a
+coach as grand as that magnificent piece of carved and gilded furniture
+which Sir Joshua had just had built for himself--oh, no: her father
+had always respected her sensibility. Years ago, when her brothers and
+sisters were making their light jests upon her backwardness, he had
+stopped them and said that he had no fears for the future of Fanny; and
+she was certain that in referring to her, as he so frequently did, as
+"poor Fanny," he meant nothing but kindness to her. To be sure, at
+first it grated upon her sensitiveness to be referred to in that kindly
+pitying way, but she did not resent it--indeed, she usually thought of
+herself as "poor Fanny." In a household where proficiency in music was
+the standard from which every member was judged, it was inevitable that
+her incompetence should be impressed upon her; but no one was hard upon
+her--the kindly "poor Fanny" of her father represented the attitude
+of the household toward her, even when she had confided to some of the
+members the fact that she was writing a novel. They had been startled;
+but, then, a novel was not a musical composition, and such an
+achievement could not be received with the warmth that Esther's playing
+received. It was really not until the printed sheets of the book lay
+before Susy that she felt that Fanny had, in one leap, brought herself
+well-nigh to the level of Esther; and by the time Susy had read the
+story to the end she had made up her mind that if it might be possible
+to compare the interest of a literary work with that of the playing of
+a piece of music, Fanny's work could claim precedence over the best that
+Esther had done--she had confessed as much to Fanny in secret, and Fanny
+had called her a foolish child.
+
+Fanny had seated herself in the parlour opening off the little hall, on
+the departure of her father, and her memory took her back to the days
+she had passed in the house at Poland Street, when she had written her
+story of Caroline Evelyn, and had been induced by her stepmother to burn
+it, with sundry dramas and literary moralizings after the manner of the
+_Tatler_--all the work of her early youth. She recalled her resolution
+never again to engage in any such unprofitable practices as were
+represented by the smoke which was ascending from the funeral pyre of
+her "Caroline Evelyn" and the rest.
+
+How long had she kept to her resolution? She could not remember. She
+could not recall having any sense of guilt when she had begun her
+"Evelina"--it seemed to have sprung from the ashes of "Caroline
+Evelyn"--nor could she recollect what had been on her mind when she was
+spending those long chilly hours of her restricted leisure toiling over
+the book. All that she could remember now was her feeling that it had
+to be written--that it seemed as if someone in authority had laid on her
+the injunction to write it, and she had no choice but to obey.
+
+Well, she had obeyed--the book had been written and printed and she
+meant to send the corrected sheets back to Mr. Lowndes in the course of
+the day. Her father's consent to its publication had been obtained and
+it would be advertised for sale within some months, and then----
+
+Her imagination was not equal to the pursuit of the question of its
+future. Sometimes she felt that she never wished to hear of the book
+again. She could almost hope that sending the sheets back to Mr. Lowndes
+would be the same as dropping them, with a heavy stone in the parcel,
+into the deep sea.
+
+But that was when the trouble of getting her father's permission
+to publish it was looming before her. Now that this cloud had been
+dispelled she felt less gloomy. She had a roseate dream of hearing
+people talk about the book and even wishing to know the name of the
+author. She had a dream of Fame herself carrying her away to sublime
+heights--to such heights as she had been borne by the singing of "Waft
+her, Angels." Her dream was of sitting on these heights of Fame by the
+side of the singer--on the same level--not inferior in the eyes of the
+world--not as the beggar maid uplifted in her rags to the side of the
+King.
+
+That had been her dream when listening to the singing, and it returned
+to her now, as she sat alone in the little parlour, having just taken
+the last step that was necessary before giving to the world the book
+which was to do so much for her. Her visions of success showed her no
+more entrancing a prospect than that of being by his side with her fame
+as a dowry worthy of his acceptance at her hands; so that people might
+not say that he had chosen unworthily--he, who had all the world to
+choose from.
+
+And quite naturally there came to her in due sequence the marvellous
+thought that he had already chosen her out of all the world--he
+had chosen her, believing her to be the dowerless daughter of a
+music-teacher--the one uninteresting member of a popular family!
+
+This was the most delightful thought of the whole train that came
+to her. It was worth cherishing above all the rest--close to her
+heart--close to her heart. She hugged that thought so close to her that
+it became warm with the warmth of her heart. Even though her book should
+never be heard of again, even though the world might treat it with
+contempt, she would still be consoled by the reflection that he had
+chosen her.
+
+*****
+
+"Why on earth should you be sitting here in the cold, Fanny?" came the
+voice from the opened door--the voice of firm domestic virtue.
+
+"Cold? cold? Surely 'Tis not cold, mamma," she said.
+
+"Not so very cold; but when there is a fire in the work-room it should
+not be wasted," said Mrs. Burney. "But to say the truth you do not look
+as if you were cold; your face is quite flushed, child. I hope you do
+not feel that you are on the brink of a sickness, my dear."
+
+"Dear mamma, I never felt stronger in my life," cried Fanny with a
+laugh.
+
+"I am glad to hear that. I was saying to Lottie just now that for some
+days past you have had alternately a worried look and the look of one
+whose brain is over-excited. Is anything the matter, my child?"
+
+"Nothing--nothing--indeed nothing! I never felt more at ease in all my
+life."
+
+"Well, well, a little exercise will do you no harm, I am sure; so put on
+your hat and accompany me to the fishmonger's. He has not been treating
+us at all fairly of late. It is not that I mind the remark made quite
+respectfully by James at dinner yesterday--it would be ridiculous to
+expect to find fish as fresh in the centre of London as he and his
+shipmates were accustomed to in the middle of the Pacific Ocean; but it
+would not be unreasonable for us to look for turbot with less of a taint
+than that we had yesterday. You will hear the man excuse himself
+by asserting that I chose the fish at his stall; but my answer to
+that--well, come with me and you shall hear what is my answer."
+
+Fanny went with her and heard.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+|THE faithful Cousin Edward had carried the sheets of "Evelina" to Mr.
+Lowndes's shop, with her list of errata, sisters Lottie and Susy
+giving him ample instructions as to the disguise he should assume in
+discharging that duty; it would be terrible, they thought, if the secret
+which they had so carefully guarded for so long should be revealed just
+when it was most important that it should be kept. Their imagination
+was keen enough to suggest to them the possibility of good Mr.
+Lowdnes setting a watch upon the people entering his shop, and giving
+instructions that the bearer of the parcel of "Evelina" should be
+detained and brought into his presence to be questioned.
+
+They advised that Edward should muffle up his face well before going
+into the shop, and then lay down his parcel and fly like the wind--that
+would be the best way of defeating the curiosity of the bookseller.
+
+But Edward was of the opinion that such a course of action might
+possibly only stimulate the man's curiosity as well as that of the
+people in the street, and the cry of "Stop thief!" might bring his
+frantic flight to a standstill. He thought that the most artful course
+to adopt would be to hang around the shop until he found that several
+customers were within; then he would enter quite casually and wait until
+Mr. Lowndes had served one customer and was about to attend to another.
+If the parcel were thrust into his hands during this interval, he,
+Edward, would have a good chance of getting safely away before Mr.
+Lowndes should have time to examine its contents.
+
+They were rather struck with his idea, and he got permission to put it
+into practice; but in any case he must take the greatest care of the
+parcel; valuable parcels were snatched out of people's hands every day.
+
+He smiled.
+
+In another hour he was back at the house in St. Martin's Street to
+report to them the safe delivery of the precious parcel. After all, he
+had had nothing more exciting to do than to place it on a counter--the
+elderly gentleman with a pen behind his ear had not even taken the
+trouble to rise from his stool to receive it.
+
+"Parcel for Mr. Lowndes? All right. Leave it there"--those were the
+exact words with which the parcel was received, Edward reported--the
+clerk was buried in his ledger before he had left the shop.
+
+The girls were not a little disappointed at this very tame conclusion of
+what they expected would have been an exciting episode; and to say the
+truth, their chagrin was shared by Cousin Edward.
+
+He had looked for his resources of artfulness to be drawn on in the
+transaction--perhaps even his physical qualifications for the defence of
+the sacred secret as well. He felt as a strong man might feel on going
+forth to meet a giant, to find himself confronted by a dwarf. The
+mission was unworthy of his powers. Fanny's thanks heartily given to
+him, with the repeated assurance that, but for him, the affair could
+never have been carried out, scarcely compensated him for the tameness
+of the affair.
+
+For the next month or two it was a busy household in St. Martin's
+Street. Lieutenant Burney was joining his ship for another long voyage,
+and he had to be provided with a fresh outfit. The stitching that went
+on in the work-room surpassed even that maintained during the months
+preceding Esther's marriage; but the labour was lightened upon more
+than one occasion by the appearance of Mr. Garrick. Mr. Garrick had the
+freedom of the house in St. Martin's Street, as he had had that of the
+Poland Street domicile, where he had so often spent hours amusing the
+children with his inimitable drolleries.
+
+But Mrs. Burney thought he went a little too far in taking off their
+friends, and even their own father, though his malicious touches were as
+light as the pinches of Puck. He had been paying a visit to Mr. and Mrs.
+Kendal, and he convulsed even Mrs. Burney by his acting of the scene of
+his reception by them, the lady much more coy than she had ever been at
+the Wells, and the gentleman overflowing in his attentions to her; but
+both of them esteeming him as their benefactor.
+
+And they were so well satisfied with the honourable estate to which he
+had called them, that they appeared to be spending all their time
+trying to bring about matches among their acquaintance. No matter how
+unsuitable some of the projected unions seemed, no matter how unlikely
+some of the people were to do credit to their discrimination, they
+seemed determined that none should escape "the blissful bondage"--that
+was Mr. Kendal's neat phrase. Mr. Garrick repeated it with a smile that
+made his audience fancy that Mr. Kendal was before them.
+
+"'The blissful bondage--that's what I term it, sir,'" said Mr. Kendal,
+through Mr. Garrick. "'But the worst of the matter is, Mr. Garrick,
+that we have nearly exhausted our own circle of friends'--'I can easily
+believe that, sir,' interposed Mr. Garrick--' and so we feel it our duty
+to fall back upon you.' 'Lud, sir,' cried Mr. Garrick, jumping a step or
+two back as if to avoid a heavy impact--'Lud, sir! a little man like me!
+I should be crushed as flat as a black beetle.' 'Nay, sir, I mean that
+we are compelled to ask you for a list of a few of your friends who,
+you think, should be brought together--half a dozen of each sex would be
+sufficient to begin with.'"
+
+"Of course I demurred," said Garrick, telling his story, "but before
+'the blissful bondage' had been repeated more than a score of times I
+began to think of all against whom I bore a grudge--here was clearly the
+means of getting level with them; the only trouble with me was that
+I found myself confounding the people who bore me a grudge with those
+against whom I bore a grudge--the former are plentiful, the latter very
+meagre in number. With the exception of a few very dear animosities
+which I was hoarding up to make old age endurable, I have killed off all
+my enemies, and was forced, like Mr. Kendal, to fall back on my friends;
+but even among these I could find few that I could honestly say
+were deserving of such a fate as I was asked to nominate them for. I
+ventured, however, to mention the name of Lieutenant Burney, of His
+Majesty's Fleet, coupling it with--I could not at first think of an
+appropriate partner for James, but at last I hit upon exactly the right
+lady."
+
+"What! a splice before I set sail next week?" cried Jim. "That's good
+news, sir. And the lady's name, if you please, and her address. Give me
+my hat, Susy; there is no time to be lost. A splice in a trice. Come,
+Mr. Garrick, her name? Cannot you see that I am hanging in stays until
+you tell me who she is?"
+
+"She is a very pleasant lady, sir. I can assure you of that," said
+Garrick. "Not too tall even with her hair built _� la mode_; a pleasant
+smile, and a happy way of conversing. In short, Lieutenant Burney, I can
+strongly recommend the lady, for I have known her for the past twenty
+years and more, and from the first she was a staid, sensible person--the
+very partner for a sailor, sir, being so contrary to him in every
+point."
+
+"Hark'ee, Mr. Garrick; though I don't quite see myself in tow of such a
+state barge, I'll trouble you to relieve my suspense by telling me her
+name."
+
+"I have more than once thought when I was young that she would make me
+an excellent wife," said Garrick; "but I soon perceived that I was not
+good enough for her. She has always been an exemplary sister, and I saw
+that, try as I might, I could never become her equal in that respect;
+and for married happiness, my boy, there is nothing like----"
+
+"Her name--her name?" shrieked the girls.
+
+The actor looked at them with pained surprise on every feature.
+
+"Her name?" he said. "Surely I have described her very badly if you have
+not recognized the portrait. But, for that matter, I have often felt how
+inadequate are words to describe character combined with grace--a
+nature inclined to seriousness in conjunction with a desire to
+attract--loftiness of purpose linked with a certain daintiness----"
+
+He made a few gestures with his hands, keeping his elbows close to his
+side, and then imitated the spreading of a capacious skirt preparatory
+to sinking in a curtsey, and in a moment there was a cry from every part
+of the room of "Miss Reynolds--Miss Reynolds!"
+
+"And who has a word to say against Miss Reynolds?" cried the actor.
+
+"No one--no one," said Fanny. "Character combined with grace--Miss
+Reynolds linked with Lieutenant Burney."
+
+"She would make a fine sheet anchor for an Admiral of the Blue," laughed
+Jim. "And with your permission, sir, I will postpone my offer until I
+have attained that rank."
+
+"I have advised Mr. Kendal to hurry things on," said Garrick gravely.
+"For if you have time to spare before making up your mind, the lady
+cannot reasonably be thought equally fortunate. 'Lieutenant Burney, your
+attitude is not complimentary to the blissful bondage'"--once more it
+was Mr. Kendal who was in the room.
+
+"Call the roll," said Jim. "Who comes next on your list, Mr. Garrick?"
+
+"Well, I was thinking of Dr. Johnson with Mrs. Abington," said Garrick;
+"but perhaps you may quibble even at that."
+
+The room rang with laughter, for everyone had seen the beautiful actress
+whose lead in dress was followed by all the ladies in the fashionable
+world who could afford to do so, and a greater number who could not; and
+the worsted hose and scorched wig, two sizes too small, of Dr. Johnson
+had been gazed at with awe by the Burney family when he visited the
+house in St. Martin's Street.
+
+"Let the banns be published without delay," cried Jim. "Next pair,
+please."
+
+"Well, I was thinking of Signor Rauzzini and Mrs. Montagu," said
+Garrick, "but perhaps that would not be approved of by you any more than
+the others."
+
+"Nay, Mr. Garrick, I will not have our friends made any longer the
+subject of your fooling," said Mrs. Burney.
+
+Garrick and Jim had the laugh between them, but it seemed that they
+alone saw the jest of coupling the lively Roman with the mature leader
+of the bluestockings: the girls bent silently over their work.
+
+"Madam," said Garrick apologetically, "I ask your pardon for my
+imprudence. May I ask which name I am to withdraw? Was my offence the
+introduction of the lady's name or the gentleman's? Oh, I can guess.
+Those rosy-tinted faces before me--I vow that you will find yourself
+going to sea with a chestful of pink shirts, Lieutenant--those sweet
+blushing faces reveal the secret more eloquently than any words could
+do."
+
+Undoubtedly the three girls were blushing very prettily; but at the
+mention of the word "secret" two of them gave a little start, but
+without looking up.
+
+"The secret--oh, I have been feeling for some time that I was well to
+the leeward of a secret," cried Jim, "and I'll not start tack or sheet
+until I learn what it is."
+
+"What, sir; you a sailor and not able to penetrate the secret of a
+pretty girl's blushes!" cried Garrick.
+
+The brother looked at each of his sisters in turn. They continued
+stitching away demurely at his shirts.
+
+"Helm's a-lee," he said. "Ready about, and off we go on another tack,
+for hang me if I see anything of guilt on their faces, bless 'em! Come,
+Mr. Garrick, you shall interpret them for me. Let me into the secret
+which you say you have read as if it was a book."
+
+Susy gave a sharp cry.
+
+"The needle!" she said. "That is the third time it has pricked me since
+morning."
+
+"Pay no attention to her, sir," cried Garrick. "It was a feint on her
+part to put us off the scent of the secret."
+
+"In heaven's name, then, let us have it," cried Jim.
+
+"If you will have it, here it is," said Garrick. "Your three sisters,
+Mr. Burney, are contemplating applying to Mrs. Montagu to be admitted to
+the freedom and the livery of the Society of Bluestockings. That is why
+they thought it akin to sacrilege for me to introduce the lady's name
+into a jest. Their blush was but a reflex of their guilty intention."
+
+"Indeed, Mr. Garrick, you go too far sometimes," said Mrs. Burney. "Mrs.
+Montagu is a worthy lady, and our girls respect her too highly to fancy
+that they have any qualification to be received into her literary set."
+
+"Faith, Madam, I know my duty too well, I hope, to accuse any of the
+Miss Burneys of possessing literary qualities," said Garrick. "But what
+I do say is that if such qualities as they possess were to be introduced
+into Mrs. Montagu's set, it would quickly become the most popular
+drawing-room in town. The idea of thinking that any young woman would go
+to the trouble of writing a book when she can reach the heart of mankind
+so much more easily by blushing over the breast of a shirt! Continue
+stitching and doing your own blushing, dear children, and you will never
+give anyone cause to blush for you."
+
+He bowed elaborately to each of them in turn and afterward to Mrs.
+Burney, and made a most effective exit. He always knew when he should
+go, and never failed to leave a few fragrant phrases behind him, as
+though he had dropped a bunch of roses for the girls to cherish.
+
+"Where should we be without Mr. Garrick?" said James, when he had seen
+the actor to the door and returned to the work-room.
+
+"If only he would not go too far in his jesting," remarked Mrs. Burney,
+shaking her head. "Mr. Garrick sometimes forgets himself."
+
+"That is how it comes that he is the greatest actor in the world," said
+James. "It is only when a man has learned to forget himself completely
+that he causes everyone else to remember him. Now there's the text for a
+homily that you can write to your Daddy Crisp, Fanny."
+
+"I'll note it, Jim, and if Mr. Crisp breaks off correspondence with me
+you shall bear the blame," said Fanny.
+
+"Mercy on us!" whispered Susy when she was alone with her sister a
+little later. "I never got such a fright as when Mr. Garrick pretended
+to read your secret. Thank goodness! he failed to get the least inkling
+of it."
+
+"Thank goodness, indeed!" whispered Fanny. But she was thinking of quite
+a different secret when she spoke.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+|HE was beside her before she was aware of it, in the great music-room
+at Lady Hales's house. She had not seen him approach her--she could
+not have done so without turning round, for he had approached her from
+behind, and slipped into the chair that Esther had vacated in order to
+play to the company. Esther's husband, who had been in the seat beyond
+her, had been led away some time earlier by Mr. Linley's clever son in
+order that he might give an opinion respecting one of the songs in a
+piece named _The Duenna_, which was about to be produced at Drury Lane.
+
+He was beside her and whispering in her ear, though she had not even
+known that he was to be present.
+
+Of course he went through the pantomimic form of inquiring how it was
+that she was alone--this was, she knew, for the benefit of anyone who
+might be watching them and suspect an assignation. The idea of anyone
+seriously fancying that Dr. Burney's daughter would have an assignation
+with Signor Rauzzini in such a place and in the midst of such a company!
+But Signor Rauzzini came from a land of intrigue, and his experience of
+England led him to believe that he had come to another; and so he made
+those gestures of inquiry, and she gave him a few words of explanation,
+so that no one might suspect! But, for that matter, their chairs were
+in the least conspicuous place in the room, and the shadow of the heavy
+hangings of a window fell half across them both.
+
+"And we have not met for months," said he in French.
+
+"Nay, have you forgotten our evening at the Pantheon?" she asked.
+
+"Forgotten it? But that is months ago--ages. And it was all
+unfinished--broken off when at its best--mutilated. That hour we had!
+Oh, was it a melody suddenly interrupted when it was approaching its
+best? Was it a poem snatched away by some ruthless hand just when we had
+begun a deathless line?"
+
+"What I remember best is your singing of 'Waft her.' I am not quite sure
+that I have yet returned to the earth from those regions whither I felt
+myself wafted. Are you conscious of having any part in _Dido_ into which
+you can throw yourself with the same spirit?"
+
+"_Dido!_ pah! _Dido_ is a paltry playhouse--Maestro Handel's work is a
+Sistine Chapel--ah, more--more--a noble cathedral. When other composers
+built their garden houses in imitation of Greek temples, he
+spent all his time raising cathedrals. His genius is his
+own--mighty--overpowering! Every time I approach the great _maestro_ I
+feel that I should put off my shoes from my feet. It is holy ground--it
+is--ah, mademoiselle, it was you who led me to chatter of myself and my
+music when we were last together, and I had no wish to do so; I meant to
+talk of yourself alone, but we had parted before I had the chance again.
+I have been wondering ever since if such a chance would return--if I
+had not thrown it away; and now you have lured me once more toward the
+golden net of music; but I have seen it spread: I will not step into it.
+I want to talk to you of love--love and you--and--me."
+
+He had restrained his voice so that it was no more than a whisper, and
+he had chastened his gestures until he seemed rigid. Fanny knew that
+even if their chairs had not been far away from the next that were
+occupied, his words could reach no ears but her own; but the effort that
+he was making to restrain his gestures--oh, was it not more significant
+to any observant eye than his most florid action would have been? With
+bent head she was conscious of the quivering of the muscles of his
+clenched hands--of the tremulous earnestness of his expressive face.
+Surely everyone who so much as glanced at him would know what was the
+subject of his discourse--and hers--hers--but what should hers be? What
+answer was she to make to such a man whispering such a word as love?
+
+"I am afraid," she said. "You make me afraid. Is this the place? Is this
+the time? Am I the one?"
+
+"Every place is the place--every time is the time--and you--you are the
+only one," said he, becoming more fervent every moment. "If you and I
+were alone--but we are alone--our love isolates us--we are alone in the
+splendid isolation of our love. What are these people who are about
+us? They are nothing to us--less than nothing, What are the people in
+a church to the devout one who enters and keeps his eyes fixed upon
+the lovely face of the saint to whom he prays. The saint and he are in
+communion together, and their communion isolates them though the church
+is crowded? I keep my eyes of devotion upon your face, my beautiful
+saint, and I am rapt with the glory of this hour--we are carried away
+on the wings of our love until the world is too far beneath us to be
+seen--only the heaven is revealed to us--to me--I look into your face
+and I have a glimpse of heaven itself! Ah, gentle saint, you will not
+deny me a response--one word--only lift up your eyes--let our eyes meet
+and it will be as if our lips had met. I am but a mortal, but I feel,
+gazing into the face of my saint, as if I were immortal--immortal and
+crossing the threshold of the heaven that is hers--I feel that we are
+equal----"
+
+She drew in her breath--the sound was something like a gasp--the gasp
+of one who has been swept away into the midst of a swirling sea and made
+breathless. She had been swept away on the amazing flood of his words;
+it was not until he had said that word "equal" that she felt herself
+swirled into the air once more, so to speak, and gave that gasp for
+breath: he, too, was breathless after his long and fervid outburst,
+repressed as to tone, but sounding therefore all the more passionate.
+Her gasp sounded like a sigh; his like a sob.
+
+"Not yet--not yet," she said in a whisper--disjointed and staccato. "I
+cannot listen to you yet. I dare not--I have my pride."
+
+"Pride? What is pride? How have I wounded your pride?" he said. "Ah,
+my God! you cannot think that I would propose anything that is not
+honourable? You do not look on me as such a wretch? Ah, you cannot."
+
+"Oh, no, no," she said quickly. "I would trust you. I have looked into
+your face. I have heard you sing."
+
+"You place your faith in me? But you cannot do that unless you love me.
+And if you love me--have I been too headlong? Have I startled you? But
+surely you must have seen that on the very first day we met, before I
+had been an hour in your presence, my life was yours. I tell you that
+I knew it--not an hour--one glance was enough to tell me that I was
+all yours, and that for me no other one lived or would ever live in the
+world. What have you to say? Do not you believe me? What did you mean
+by that word 'pride'? It does not seem to me that it had any connection
+with you or me."
+
+"Do not ask me to explain anything just now," she said. "You would not
+like to be asked to explain how you came to--to--think of me--to feel in
+regard to me as you have said you do----"
+
+"Why should I shrink from it?" he asked. "But no one who has seen you
+would put such a question to me. I loved you because you were--_you_. Is
+not that enough? It would be sufficient for anyone who knew you. I saw
+you sitting there--so sweetly timid--a little flower that is so startled
+to find itself awakened into life in the spring, that it would fain
+ask the earth to hide it again. I thought of you as that modest little
+flower--a violet trying to obscure its own charm by the leaves that
+surround it; but all in vain--in vain, for its presence has given a
+subtle perfume to the air, and all who breathe of its delicate sweetness
+take the spirit of the spring into their souls and know that a violet
+is there, though hidden from their view. That is how I saw you. I have
+always loved the violet, and felt that shyness and sweetness were ever
+one; and am I to be reproached if I have a longing to pluck my violet
+and have her ever with me?"
+
+"This is madness--the poetry of madness," she cried, and there was
+really a piteous note in her voice. "But if I did not believe that you
+feel every word that you have spoken, I would let you continue, and
+drink in the sweetness of every word that falls from your lips. It is
+because I know that you are speaking from your heart and because I also
+know my own unworthiness that I pray of you to say no more--yet."
+
+"Why should I not tell you the truth, if you confess that you believe I
+am speaking sincerely?"
+
+"Sincerely, but in a dream."
+
+"Is all love a dream, then?--is that what is in your thought?"
+
+"I do not want it to be a dream. I wish the love to continue with your
+eyes open, and therefore I say--not yet."
+
+"You wish my love to continue? Oh, never doubt that your wish shall be
+granted. But why that 'not yet '? I am weary of this mystery."
+
+She was perplexed. Why should she hold out any longer against this
+impetuous Prince of the land of King Cophetua? Why should she not be as
+other girls who allow themselves to be lifted out of insignificance by
+the man who loves them. Why should that gift of being able to see more
+closely into the truth of things that most others accept without a
+question, be laid upon her as a burden?
+
+She had a strong impulse to let her resolution go down the wind, and to
+put her hand in his, no matter who might be looking on, and say the word
+to him that would give him happiness. Who was she to suggest that his
+happiness would not endure--that her happiness would not endure?
+
+She was perplexed. She had more than once been called prim; but that
+only meant that it was her nature to weigh everything in a mental
+balance, as it were, and her imagination was equal (she thought) to the
+task of assigning their relative value to the many constituents of human
+happiness. If she had been told that this meant that she had not yet
+been in love, and that she was not now in love, she would not have felt
+uneasy in her mind. She did not mistrust the feeling she had for the man
+who was beside her. Surely this was the very spirit of truth in loving,
+to be ready to sacrifice everything, so that unhappiness should not
+overtake him; and she had long ago felt that unhappiness only could
+result from his linking his life with one who was rather less than a
+mere nobody. The thought never once left her mind of what would be
+said when it was known that she had married him. A dunce's triumph, the
+incident would be styled by the wits, and (assuming that the wits were
+masculine) how would it be styled by the opposite sex? She could see
+uplifted hands--incredulous eyebrows raised, while they discussed it,
+and she knew that the conclusion that everyone would come to was that to
+be the most divine singer in the world did not save a man from being the
+greatest fool in the world.
+
+Was her love the less true because her intelligence insisted on her
+perceiving that such a man as Signor Rauzzini would not be happy if
+married to a nonentity like herself? "Surely not," she would have
+cried. "Surely it is only the truest of all loves that would be ready
+to relinquish its object rather than bring unhappiness upon him! Is
+intelligence never to be found in association with true love? Must true
+love and folly ever be regarded as allies?"
+
+Her intellect was quick in apprehending the strength of the position
+taken up by two combatants in an argument; but the juxtaposition of the
+Prim and the Passionate was too much for her. She was all intellect; he
+was all passion. Her mental outlook on the situation was acute; but his
+was non-existent. His passion blinded him; her intellect had a thousand
+eyes.
+
+And there he was by her side; she could almost hear the strong beating
+of his heart in the pause that followed his question.
+
+"What is this mystery?"
+
+It was her feeling of this tumultuous beating of his heart that all but
+made her lose her intellectual foothold. His heart beating close to hers
+swayed her as the moon sways the tides, until for some moments she
+could not have told whether it was her heart or his that was beating
+so wildly--only for some moments, however; only long enough for that
+madness to suggest itself to her--to let her resolution fly to the
+winds--what did anything matter so long as she could lay her hand in
+his, and feel his fingers warm over hers? It was her first acquaintance
+with the tyranny of a heart aflame, and for a moment she bent her
+head before it. He thought that he had got the better of her scruples,
+whatever they were, by the way her voice broke as she said:
+
+"Madness--it would be madness!"
+
+He was not acute enough to perceive that she was talking to
+herself--trying to bring her reason to help her to hold out against the
+throbbing of her heart--_his_ heart.
+
+"It would indeed be madness for us to turn our backs upon happiness when
+it is within our reach," said he. "That is what you would say, sweet
+saint?"
+
+But she had now recovered herself.
+
+"Indeed it is because I have no thought except for your happiness that I
+entreat of you to listen to me," said Fanny.
+
+"I will listen to you if you tell me in one word that you love me," said
+he.
+
+There was no pause before she turned her eyes upon him saying:
+
+"You know it. You have never doubted it. It is because I love you so
+truly I wish to save you from unhappiness. I want to hold your love for
+ever and ever."
+
+"My sweet saint! You have heard my prayers. You are to make me happy."
+
+"All that I can promise as yet is to save you from supreme unhappiness.
+I am strong enough to do so, I think."
+
+"You can save me from every unhappiness if you will come to me--and you
+are coming, I know."
+
+"I hope that if you ask me three months hence I shall be able to say
+'yes'; but now--at this moment--I dare not. It is not so long to ask you
+to wait, seeing that I have let you have a glimpse of my heart, and told
+you that as you feel for me, so I feel for you."
+
+"Three months is an eternity! Why should it be in three months? Why not
+now?"
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"I cannot tell you. It is my little secret," she said. "Ah, is it not
+enough that I have told you I love you? I shall never cease to love
+you."
+
+"Oh, this accursed place! These accursed people!" he murmured. "Why are
+we fated to meet only surrounded by these wretches? Why cannot we meet
+where I can have you in _my_ arms, and kiss your lips that were made for
+kissing?"
+
+There was something terrifying to her in that low whisper of his. He had
+put his head down to her until his lips were close to her ear. She felt
+the warmth of his face; it made her own burn. But she could not move her
+face away to the extent of an inch. Her feminine instinct of flight was
+succeeded by the equally feminine instinct of surrender. If it had been
+his intention--and it certainly seemed that it was--to kiss her in the
+presence of all the company, she would still have been incapable of
+avoiding such a caress.
+
+He swore again in her ear, and Fanny, for all her primness, felt a
+regret deep down in her heart that her training would not allow of her
+expressing herself through the same medium.
+
+But he did not come any nearer to her than that. He changed his phrases
+of abuse of their entourage to words of delight at her presence so close
+to him--alternately passionate and tender. His voice became a song in
+her ears, containing all such variations. His vocalism was equal to the
+demand put upon it. It was his _m�tier_ to interpret such emotions, and
+now he did justice to his training, even if he fell short--and he was
+conscious of doing so--of dealing adequately with his own feelings.
+He called her once again his sweet saint who had heard his prayer; his
+cherished flower, whose fragrance was more grateful to him than all the
+incense burned in all the temples of the world was to the Powers above.
+
+It was, he repeated, her violet modesty that had first made him adore
+her. Her humility brought before his eyes the picture painted by Guido
+Reni--the Madonna saying: _Ecce ancilla Domini_.
+
+Ah, her humility was divine. And she was so like his mother--his dear
+mother who had died when he was a boy and who had taught him to sing.
+Ah, she was herself now singing in Paradise, and she would look down
+and approve his choice. She, too, had been as meek as a flower, and had
+never been so happy as when they had been together at a little farm in
+Tuscany with him by her side among the olives. Oh, she would approve
+his choice. And quite simply he addressed his dead mother, as though
+she were beside him, asking her if she could desire to have a daughter
+sweeter or more gentle. He had lapsed into his native Italian in this;
+but Fanny could follow his slow, devout words, and her eyes were full of
+tears, her heart of love.
+
+She now perceived how simple and gentle a nature was that of the young
+Roman. He remained unspoilt by the adulation which he had received
+both in his own country and in England. Seeing him thus revealing a
+simplicity which she had not associated with him before, she was led to
+ask herself if there was, after all, so great a difference between them
+as she had believed to exist. She had forgotten all about his singing,
+and he was now in her eyes nothing more than a man--the man who loved
+her. Ah, that was enough. He loved her, and therefore she was bound to
+save him from the mortification of hearing the whispers of the people
+around them asking how he could ever have been stupid enough to marry a
+girl like herself, who was a nobody and without a fortune, when he might
+have chosen any girl in the world.
+
+Her resolution came back to her with greater force than ever. Since
+he had made his nature plain to her, it would, she felt, be taking
+advantage of his simplicity to engage herself to him just as she was.
+She knew more of the world than he did. She knew how the world talked,
+and how it would talk regarding herself as well as regarding him in such
+a matter. He was simple and generous; it was necessary for her to take
+thought for both of them.
+
+"Have you heard me?" he asked of her in a whisper.
+
+"The tears are still in my eyes," she replied. "Oh, my dear friend,
+cannot you see how bitter it is for me to be compelled to ask you to
+wait for these months that I spoke of? Cannot you see that it is a
+matter of conscience and honour? Ah, I should never forgive myself if I
+were to do other than I have done! If you----"
+
+"Dear one," said he, "I ask for nothing more than to hear you tell me
+that you love me. Who am I, that I should demand your secret? So long as
+you do not conceal your love from me, I do not mind if you have a score
+of secrets locked away in your white bosom. Tell me again that you love
+me and all must be well."
+
+She looked at him, but he knew that she could not see a feature of his
+face by reason of the tears that were still in her eyes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+|IT was on one of the last mornings in January that Mrs. Burney was
+reading out of the newly-arrived _London Chronicle_ such paragraphs as
+she thought would appeal to the varied interests of the breakfast-table.
+There were a few announcements of marriages about to take place between
+people whose names they knew, the amount of the bride's dowry being
+stated in each in plain figures, though Mrs. Burney took it upon her to
+affirm in one or two cases that the sum was exaggerated, or to suggest
+that if the father of the bride were just enough to pay his debts first,
+the portion of his daughter would be considerably reduced. In the case
+of one of the gentlemen, who was marrying thirty thousand pounds, she
+ventured to express the hope that he would now pay at least some of his
+creditors.
+
+These were, of course, the most interesting items of news, though their
+attractiveness was not greatly superior to that of the gossip respecting
+Mr. F------, who had been noticed in high dudgeon because of Lady
+P------'s dancing three times with Sir Julian Y------; or that which
+suggested that a reconcilement must have taken place between the
+beautiful Mrs. G------ and her husband, for they had been seen taking
+the air together in the Park.
+
+It was also pleasant to learn that His Majesty had given great
+encouragement to Mrs. Delany in the production of her ingenious mosaic
+flowers, in which she was so skilled as to excite the wonder of several
+criticks in the Royal circle; and also that His Royal Highness the
+Prince of Wales had been graciously pleased to say in publick that he
+had always admired the Perdita of the beautiful Mrs. Robinson, though he
+considered Mrs. Abington, on the whole, the most tasteful dresser in the
+Drury Lane company.
+
+It was only when Mrs. Burney had folded the newspaper and was about to
+put it away, that a few lines of an advertisement caught her eye--she
+commented before she read, as though she had been a fully qualified
+critic:
+
+"More novels! More stuff for the circulating libraries! Enough to make
+poor Mr. Richardson feel uncomfortable in his grave! Could he but have
+known that he was turning all England into novel readers he would never
+have put pen to paper. Here is another imitator in the field. 'Evelina;
+or, a Young Lady's Entrance into the World,' published to-day by Mr.
+Lowndes--three volumes, seven and sixpence sewed, nine shillings in
+covers. 'Evelina,' a distant cousin to 'Clarissa' and 'Pamela' I doubt
+not. I hope your father will not bring anyone here to dinner to-day.
+Hashed mutton is a wholesome dish, to be sure, but some visitors are
+fastidious. He may bring as many as he pleases to-morrow, for Mr.
+Greville's gift of pheasants will be on the table. Why are you staring
+so at your sister, Lottie?"
+
+Lottie was becoming a hardened dissembler: she scarcely started when
+asked to interpret certain furtive glances she cast at Fanny.
+
+"I was wondering if Fanny would make a face: she never was fond of
+hashed mutton," said Lottie glibly. "If she had gone to school in France
+she would soon have got a liking for it, cooked as it is there."
+
+"I am not partial to French kickshaws," said Mrs. Burney. "There's
+nothing like good English fare. To my thinking, the principle of making
+food tasty when in ordinary circumstances it should not be so, is a bad
+one. Hash of mutton is wholesome food, and it should be eaten as such
+without further question. If Providence had meant it to be tasty as
+well, He would have made His intentions as plain as in the case of roast
+pheasant."
+
+"Lottie will tell you that I made no face at the mention of hash of
+mutton," said Fanny. "What does it signify whether one sits down to a
+simple platter of mutton hash or a great dinner such as father gets at
+Mr. Thrale's? A pair of geese, a leg of mutton, a tongue, a rib of roast
+beef and a brace of pheasants, with two or three dishes of fish, and for
+Dr. Johnson a veal pie or a piece of pork--those were on the table at
+one time. What is the benefit of such abundance, when all that one can
+eat is a single slice of beef?"
+
+She spoke rapidly, for she, too, had been a great dissembler. She meant
+to take away her stepmother's attention from those questionable glances
+which she had exchanged with Lottie; and she succeeded very well.
+
+"It would make no difference to us whether we had one dish or ten; but
+it makes all the difference in the world to Mr. Thrale. They say he has
+a prodigious appetite, and eats of at least six heavy dishes of meat at
+dinner."
+
+"Mr. Baretti affirms that some day he will not awake from the stupor
+into which he falls after one of his heavy meals," said Susy.
+
+"And all the time Mrs. Thrale is entreating him to be more moderate,"
+cried Lottie.
+
+"A humiliating duty for such as Mrs. Thrale," said her mother. "That
+shows how true is all that Fanny has remarked: a simple dish should be
+enough for any reasonable person. I have often wondered how the converse
+at the Streatham table could be so wise and witty if the master of
+the house eats like a hog, and Dr. Johnson, suffering from ill-health,
+expends so much energy over his pork that the veins stand out on his
+forehead and his face is bathed in perspiration."
+
+"I am sure that Mrs. Thrale has wit and liveliness enough to serve for
+the whole company," said Fanny.
+
+"She is chatty enough, I doubt not," replied Mrs. Burney. "There are
+those who think she talks over-much for a woman."
+
+"Not for a woman of fashion," suggested Lottie with some pertness, when
+their stepmother had left the room. "It is long since Mrs. Thrale has
+invited mother to one of the Streatham dinners," she added under her
+breath.
+
+And then the three fell upon the _Chronicle_ for the announcement of the
+book.
+
+They read it in whispers, each following the other, as though it were
+the _piano_ part of a catch or a glee, and glancing fearfully toward the
+door now and again, lest it should open and Mrs. Burney reappear.
+
+"How amazing it is!" said Susy. "This is the announcement of the birth
+of a baby--and such a baby!"
+
+"The birth and the christening and all," said Lottie. "Oh, Fanny, I
+had no idea that it would be in the papers--I forgot that it would be
+advertised; and when mamma read this out I thought I should sink through
+the floor. So did you, I know."
+
+"I only wish that it had been possible," said Fanny. "I could feel
+myself getting hot all over my body. And then you gave me that look,
+Lottie!"
+
+"Could I help it?" asked Lottie. "You cannot blame me. I really thought
+that it was you who gave me a look, as much as to say: 'If you let the
+cat out of the bag I will never forgive you--no, never! '"
+
+"Never mind! Among us we managed to get out of the difficulty very well,
+I think. Were we not clever, guiding the conversation away from Mr.
+Lowndes's shop on to the high road to Streatham?" cried Susy.
+
+"'Twas the hash that saved us," said Lottie. "Have you not heard dear
+Jim applying the sailors' expression, to make a hash of something? But
+we didn't make a hash of our matter, did we, Fanny?" said Susan.
+
+"We have become adroit dissemblers, and I am growing more ashamed of it
+every day," cried Fanny. "I have reached the condition of a man of whom
+I read in a volume of history: he had committed a crime, and the effort
+that it cost him to keep it hidden so preyed upon his mind that he could
+stand the strain no longer, so he confessed it and was relieved."
+
+"But he could not have been really happy until they hanged him," said
+Susy. "And do you intend to confess and be hanged, Fanny? Please do not.
+I think it is the most exciting thing in the world to share a secret
+like this. I would not have missed the enjoyment for anything. Think,
+Fan, if you were to confess, you would draw us into it too--you would
+make us out to be as guilty as yourself."
+
+"I will not confess," said Fanny. "No; it would not be honourable of me.
+But I do feel that the secret is having a bad effect upon us all. It has
+made us all such--such--dissemblers."
+
+"Psha!" said Lottie with a sniff. "That's only another way of saying
+that we are ladies of quality at an early age."
+
+Fanny shook her head. She thought that if any proof were needed of the
+ill effects of their treasuring their secret from their parents, this
+cynical pertness of Lottie supplied it. She shook her head.
+
+"I should like 'Evelina' to come into mamma's hands," continued Lottie.
+"She will go through the three volumes at a hand gallop, even though she
+did take it upon her to condemn it as being on a level with the odious
+stuff that comes to us nowadays."
+
+"And if she condemns it so heartily before she has read it, what will
+she say about it when she has finished the last chapter?" asked Fanny.
+
+"She will say that it is the prettiest story that has been written since
+her dear Mr. Richardson died," said Susy.
+
+"I doubt it, my dear," said Fanny.
+
+"Well, let the worst come, she will never guess that you wrote it,"
+laughed Lottie.
+
+"It is the padre whom I fear," said Fanny. "Surely he will not need to
+go beyond the Ode on the first leaf to know that it is he himself whom I
+address."
+
+"And if he should--smoke it?" asked Susy, lapsing into slang which she
+had acquired from her sailor brother, who was in no sense a purist.
+
+"If he should--well, either of two things will happen," replied the
+authoress. "He will either think me the most double-dealing wretch in
+the world or the most dutiful of daughters."
+
+"And which will be right?" asked Lottie.
+
+"Both views will be right," said Fanny. "Although I meant every word
+of the Ode, I really think now that the idea of writing it before the
+dedication came to me only when I felt that I had behaved badly in
+sending the book to the printer without his consent."
+
+"You wished the Ode to be a sort of peace-offering?" said Susy. "You
+hoped that when he read it he would forget to be angry? Well, that was
+cunning of you, Fanny!"
+
+"I tell you that the whole affair has had a bad effect upon us all,"
+said Fanny gently.
+
+Once again she was conscious of someone telling her that there was no
+use crying over spilt milk, and this impression was followed by one that
+took the form of a resolution to be more careful in future. If she
+had spilt some milk once, that was no reason why she should not, by
+exercising proper forethought, refrain from doing so again.
+
+But the book was now given to the world, if the world would have it, but
+as yet a copy had not come into her hand. She wondered if she would
+have to spend seven and sixpence in buying a copy. Seven shillings and
+sixpence, sewed. It was a great deal of money. Was it possible that
+there were five hundred people in the world ready to pay seven and
+sixpence for a novel with the name of no author on the title page?
+(She thought it best to leave out of her consideration altogether the
+possible purchasers of the nine shilling set of bound volumes.)
+
+Who were the people that ever laid out so much money upon books which
+could be read through between the rising and the setting of the sun?
+She had never met such liberal enthusiasts. Of course, it was only
+reasonable that so splendid a work as the "History of Music" should be
+in the library of every house wherein people of taste resided, but that
+was not a book to be galloped through; some people might not be able to
+read it within a month. Besides, it bore the honoured name of Dr. Burney
+on the title page, and the fame of Dr. Burney was great. But as for that
+poor little seven-and-sixpenny sewed "Evelina," how should anyone take
+an interest in her without reading her story? How would anyone read her
+story without feeling afterwards that seven-and-sixpence (leaving the
+nine shilling expenditure out of the question) was a ridiculous price to
+pay for such an entertainment?
+
+She felt that people would come to look on her as the instigator of a
+fraud if they paid their money and read the book and then found out
+that she had written it. The wisdom of concealing her name even from the
+bookseller was now more apparent to her than it had ever been. She had
+visions of indignant purchasers railing against Mr. Lowndes, and Mr.
+Lowndes searching for her, so that he might rail against her; and so her
+speculations ended in laughter; but even her laughter grated upon her
+sensitive ears: she felt that it was the malicious jeering of a clever
+cheat at the thought of having got the better of a worthy man.
+
+Her precious "Evelina" was leading her a pretty dance. If it had not
+been able to do so it would have been a paltry sort of book and she
+would have been a paltry sort of author.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+|TWO or three weeks passed without her hearing anything of the book, and
+it seemed as if it had fallen, as she had at some moments hoped it would
+fall, like a dull stone into the depths of the sea. She heard nothing of
+it, and soon she perceived that her sisters felt grievously disappointed
+at its failure to produce any impression upon the town. Even a dull
+stone, if dropped into the deep, creates a little fuss on the surface
+before it sinks out of sight; but Fanny's book did not, so far as they
+could see, produce even so superficial an impression. What they expected
+of it they might have had some trouble explaining; but as it was, they
+could not conceal their disappointment from Fanny; and they showed it
+after a short time in a very delicate way: they never alluded to the
+book in her presence. She perceived that what was in their minds was
+that it would show very bad taste on their part to refer to it in any
+way. She was grateful for their consideration; and she resolved to
+accept their decision on this point as final; she would never allude to
+the horrid thing in their hearing.
+
+It so happened, however, that she was left alone with Susy in the house
+one evening. Dr. Burney and his wife had gone to a concert at Esther's,
+and Lottie was staying for a day or two in the country. Susy was
+practising her part of a new duet on the piano, and Fanny was at her
+sewing. So far as conversation between the two sisters was concerned,
+the evening had been a very silent one. Indeed, during the whole week a
+constrained silence had marked the intercourse of the three girls.
+
+Susy hammered away at the music for half an hour; then her playing
+became more fitful, and at last it ceased altogether.
+
+There was a long silence before Fanny heard a little sound that caused
+her to raise her head. It was the sound of a sob, and when she looked up
+she saw that Susy was leaning her forehead upon the bottom of the music
+rest, weeping bitterly.
+
+Fanny was by her side in a moment.
+
+"Dearest Susy, what is the matter?" she said soothingly. "Tell me, dear;
+has anything happened? Has anyone been unkind to you? Have I unwittingly
+done or said anything that seemed to you unkind? Tell me all, Susy."
+
+But Susy continued crying with her face hidden, though she yielded one
+of her hands to Fanny.
+
+"Come, my dear, I have helped you before now, and I may be able to help
+you now. Prithee, what is your trouble?" said Fanny, putting her arm
+round the girl's shoulders.
+
+Still Susy remained silent, except for her sobs.
+
+"Tell me," said Fanny, in a whisper. "Is it that you think that I am
+chagrined about--about--the book?"
+
+In an instant Susy had whirled round on her seat and flung her arms
+round her sister's neck, laying her head on her shoulder.
+
+"Oh, Fanny, Fanny, 'tis too cruel!" she sobbed. "We were sure that so
+much would come of it--it seemed so splendid to read, even before it
+was printed--so much better than any other story that ever came into our
+hands--and you worked so hard at it--every spare moment when you might
+have been enjoying yourself--in the cold of last winter up in that
+room--and at Lynn too--and Chessington--and now, when we think that your
+cleverness, your patience, your genius, is to be rewarded, nothing comes
+of it--all your trouble has gone for nothing--all our secrecy! Oh, it is
+too cruel!"
+
+"You dear child," said Fanny. "It is only cruel if it sets you crying in
+this way. What does it matter to anyone if the book has gone and nothing
+has come of it? I have been thinking that writing a book and publishing
+it is like throwing a stone into the sea. It may fall so that it sinks
+down plumb, or it may fall so that it makes a splash for a while, but
+it sinks to the bottom all the same. Success or failure is only the
+difference between a splash and a ripple. We were fools to fancy that
+our little stone would float."
+
+"But it was not a stone, it was full of life and it should have--it
+should have--swum! Oh, the people who buy books are so stupid!"
+
+"They are--that was the hope that I builded on. They are stupid, but not
+stupid enough to buy my book."
+
+"Oh, Fanny!"
+
+"That is really the frame of mind that I find myself in to-day. I tell
+you truly, Susy, that after the first week, I schooled myself to think
+of the business in this way; and I am certain that in another month I
+shall even feel delighted that my little pebble made no splash. Look at
+the matter philosophically, Susy."
+
+"Oh, philosophically!"
+
+"Well, reasonably. Are we in a different position to-day from that we
+were in before the book was published? We are not. We are just the same
+as we were before. It has not injured us in any way. Nay, if you think
+of it, we are--I, at least, am--all the better for having failed, for I
+have learned my lesson. I was beginning to feel cleverer than I had any
+right to think myself, and this has come as a chastening--to make me
+know my right place. These rebukes do not come by chance, Susy. I know
+now that I was inclined to hold my head too high. I don't think that I
+will do so again."
+
+"You never held your head too high--just the opposite. And I think it
+very cruel that you should be rebuked for nothing. But I do not blame
+_anyone_ except the wretched people who refused to buy your nice book,
+but spent their seven and sixpence at Vauxhall or Ranelagh--perhaps
+watching Mr. Foote and his puppets at the Haymarket. Oh, I have no
+patience with them! Why, it only needed a thousand people to buy the
+book and it would have been accounted a success!"
+
+"Then we shall put the blame on the shoulders of that thousand,
+wheresoever they may be found, and for my part I shall not hold a second
+thousand altogether blameless--my indignation may even extend to a
+third. Now, that's the last word I mean to speak about the book. It
+has by this time reached the bottom of the sea on which I threw it; and
+there let it lie!"
+
+"You are an angel--I see that plainly now."
+
+"Ah, there you see, what I said was true: I am much better for the
+rebuke I talked about; you never perceived before that I was an angel.
+Now let that be the last word between us on the subject of my poor
+little 'Evelina.' Her entrance into the world has proved fatal. Oh,
+Susy, she was stillborn, but her parent is making a rapid recovery."
+
+"That may be; but cannot you join with me in----"
+
+"I will join with you in maintaining silence on the subject of the little
+one. I cannot bear to hear her name mentioned. I refuse to say another
+word about her or her fate. She must have been greatly beloved of
+the gods to die so young. Let that be 'Evelina's' epitaph. I will say
+nothing more about her."
+
+It so happened, however, that she was compelled to say a good deal more
+on the subject, for within half an hour Cousin Edward had called, and he
+began to talk of "Evelina" at once.
+
+"I went to Hill's library in the Strand yesterday, to get a book for
+mother, and there, sure enough, I saw your 'Evelina,'" said he. "I asked
+the man in charge what it was about, and he replied that he didn't know;
+it was bad enough, he thought, to be compelled to hand out books all day
+to readers without being forced to read them for himself; but he
+supposed that 'Evelina' was a novel of the usual sort."
+
+"That was not extravagant praise," remarked Susy.
+
+"He didn't mean to praise it," said Edward. "But when I asked him if
+anyone who had read it had recommended it, he admitted that every one
+of the five ladies who had read it was ready to speak well of it--one of
+them had taken it away a second time; and--would you believe it?--while
+I was standing at the counter a footman entered the shop with a demand
+for 'Eveliena,' as he called it; and he carried off the copy that was
+already on the desk."
+
+"For the delectation of the servants' hall?" suggested Fanny.
+
+"Not at all--it had been recommended to her ladyship, he said, and he
+had been commanded on no account to return without it; her ladyship
+was liberal; she would not mind paying sixpence for it, instead of the
+ordinary fourpence."
+
+"That was more than liberal, it was generous to a degree," said Fanny.
+
+"Don't interrupt him," cried Susy. "Continue your narrative, Eddy. I am
+dying to hear the rest."
+
+"I asked the library man if he knew who wrote the book, and he
+replied that he had heard the name, but had forgotten it; so far as he
+remembered the author was a peer of high rank but eccentric habits,"
+said Edward.
+
+"The book represented his eccentric habits, I suppose," remarked Fanny.
+
+"I ran out of the place roaring," said Edward. "'A peer of high rank but
+eccentric habits'--describes you to a T, doesn't it, Cousin Fanny? Pray
+what is your lordship's next work to be, and when will it be given to an
+eager world?"
+
+"Is that all you have to tell?" asked Susy.
+
+"By no means. When I heard that the book was thought well of in
+the Strand, I thought I would try to get at the opinion of Stanhope
+Street--you know Masterman's circulating library there? Well, I boldly
+entered, and there, sure enough, was a well-thumbed 'Evelina' in front
+of the librarian. I asked for some book that no one had ever heard of,
+and when the librarian had told me that he had never been asked for that
+book before, I pointed to 'Evelina,' inquiring if it was any good. 'I'm
+dead tired on account of its goodness, for I was fool enough to take
+it to bed with me last night, and I never closed my eyes in sleep,'
+he replied. 'I had it praised to me by a lady of quality, and so too
+hastily concluded that it would either send me asleep with its dullness,
+or shock me with its ribaldry; but it did neither, unhappily.' Just then
+a chariot stopped at the door and another footman entered with the name
+'Evelina' written on a sheet of paper, and off he popped with the full
+three volumes under his arm. I waited no longer; but hurried hither
+to give you my news. I did not get so far, however, for I was unlucky
+enough to be overtaken by that vile downpour of rain, and it did not
+blow over until your dinner hour was at hand."
+
+"You are my good angel," cried Fanny, her cheeks glowing. "We have heard
+nothing of all this respecting the book, and, hearing nothing, we took
+it for granted that it was dead--dead before it was ever alive. Oh, this
+is good news you have brought us, Eddy!"
+
+"The best news that has come to us for months!" said Susy. She had
+turned her head away and was furtively wiping her eyes. The good news
+affected the sympathetic Susy almost as deeply as her disappointment had
+done.
+
+"But I have only told you of my adventures of yesterday," said
+Edward. "To-day I tried the booksellers, beginning with Mr. Davies and
+working-round to the Dillys in the Poultry--it cost me three shillings,
+for I had to buy something that I did not particularly want in every
+shop to excuse my inquiries--and I found 'Evelina' on every counter. I
+cannot say that any customer came in to buy it while I was in any shop,
+but you may be sure that the book would not be on the counter unless it
+was highly thought of. Of course I had need to be very discreet among
+the booksellers; I dared not ask who was the author, but I longed to do
+so, if only to hear what new story had been made up about it."
+
+"You heard quite enough to make us glad," cried Susy. "Oh, how foolish
+we were to take it for granted that because we had no news of the book,
+it was dead! It is alive--greatly alive, it would appear! How could any
+news of it have come to us here? We should have gone forth in search of
+it."
+
+"I knew that we could depend on your discretion," said Fanny, laying a
+hand on each of his shoulders. "I do not think that I ever thanked you
+as I should for the wise way in which you managed the business with Mr.
+Lowndes, and now I must not neglect to do so for having acted the part
+of a benevolent agent in bringing us such good news about the book."
+
+"Psha! there should be no talk of gratitude and the like between us,"
+said he. "There are family ties--I think of the honour of our family.
+People already talk of the clever Burneys, but they left you out of the
+question, Cousin Fanny, since they only thought of music. But now
+that you have shown what you can do in another direction, you must be
+reckoned with alongside the others."
+
+"And what about the other branch of the clever Burneys?" said Fanny.
+"Don't you think that people will some of these days begin to ask if
+Edward Burney, the great painter, is really a brother of the musical
+Burneys? I hope they will, dear Edward; I hope that the fame of Edward
+Burney, the painter, will go far beyond that of the musical Burneys, as
+well as poor Fanny Burney who once wrote a novel."
+
+The young man blushed as Fanny herself would certainly have done if
+confronted with the least little compliment. But there was no false
+shame about his acceptance of her suggestion.
+
+"I mean to become as good a painter as I can, in order to be worthy of
+the name of Burney," said he. "I feel proud of being a Burney--more so
+to-day than ever before, and I hope that the rest of the Burney's will
+some day look on me as doing credit to our name."
+
+"I am sure that they will have every reason to do so," said Fanny.
+
+When he had gone, Susy gave way to her delight at the news which he had
+brought. She was a good deal taller than Fanny, and catching her round
+the waist after the manner of the Elizabethan dancer with his partner,
+she danced round the table with her, lilting a somewhat breathless p�an.
+Fanny herself needed no coaxing to be her partner in this revel. In
+her jubilant moments she got rid of the primness which most people
+associated with her. She had a wild jig known as "Nancy Dawson," and
+she had more than once found it necessary to get rid of her superfluous
+spirits through this medium. She joined in her sister's little whoop
+at the completion of the third "lap" of the table, and they both threw
+themselves breathless on the sofa.
+
+"I knew it," said Susy between her gasps. "I knew that I could not be
+mistaken in believing 'Evelina' to be good--I knew that she would make
+her way in the affections of her readers, and I was right--you see I was
+right."
+
+"You were right, dear Susy--quite right," said Fanny. "I do not like
+to be too sanguine, but I do believe, from the reports Eddy brought us,
+that the book will find plenty of readers. Now that we can think over
+the matter in a reasonable way, we must see how foolish we were to
+expect that the very day after the book was published people would crowd
+to buy it; but now, after six weeks, when Eddy goes in search of news
+about it, he brings back a report which is--we had best say for the
+present no more than 'quite satisfactory'--that was the bookseller's
+report about the sales of the first volume of the padre's
+'History'--'quite satisfactory'--that should be quite satisfactory for
+the author of 'Evelina' and her sisters. There is nothing in the book to
+stir people as it would if written by Mr. Wilkes, but in its humble way
+it will, I am now persuaded, be pronounced 'quite satisfactory.' At any
+rate, there goes my sewing for the evening."
+
+She rolled up the strip of linen into a ball and used her hand, after
+two false starts, as a battledore, to send it flying across the room
+within reach of Susy, who, being more adroit, was able at the first
+attempt to return it with both force and precision. Once more Fanny
+struck it, and her sister sent it back, but by this time the unequal
+ball had opened out, so that it was only by her foot that Fanny could
+deal with it effectively. Then, daintily holding up their petticoats,
+the author of "Evelina" and Susy Burney played with the thing until once
+more they were panting and laughing joyously.
+
+Perhaps Fanny had a faint inkling of the symbolism implied by this
+treatment of the discarded needlework.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+|BUT little Miss Burney had recovered all her primness on the evening
+when, a week later, she accompanied her stepmother to partake of tea at
+the home of the Barlowes in the Poultry.
+
+Young Mr. Barlowe had, for some time after his visit to St. Martin's
+Street, brooded over his indiscretion in allowing his impulse at the
+moment of saying good night to carry him away so that he pressed Miss
+Burney's hand, looking into her eyes with an expression in his own of
+the deepest sympathy--rather more than sympathy. He felt that he had
+been unduly and indiscreetly hasty in his action. It had been purely
+impulsive. He had by no means made up his mind that Miss Burney would
+make him a satisfactory wife. His father and mother had, for a long
+time, thought very highly of Mrs. Burney, looking on her as a most
+thrifty and excellent manager of a household. She had shown herself
+to be all this and more when her first husband was alive and they had
+visited her at Lynn; and she had proved her capabilities in the same
+direction since she had married Dr. Burney. Unfortunately, however,
+the virtues of a stepmother could not be depended on to descend to the
+children of her husband's family, and it was by no means certain that
+Miss Burney had made full use of her opportunities of modelling herself
+upon her father's second wife.
+
+No, he had not quite made up his mind on this subject--the gravest that
+had ever occupied his attention, and he remained sleepless for hours,
+fearful that he had gone too far in that look and that squeeze. He had
+heard of fathers and even brothers waiting upon young men who had acted
+toward a daughter or a sister pretty much as he had in regard to Miss
+Burney. He had rather a dread of being visited by Miss Burney's brother,
+that young naval officer who had boasted of having been educated by a
+murderer. Mr. Barlowe thought that a visit from such a young man would
+be most undesirable, and for several days he went about his business
+with great uneasiness.
+
+But when a week had gone by and neither father nor brother had waited
+upon him, he began to review his position more indulgently than when he
+had previously given it his consideration. He thought more hopefully of
+Miss Burney as a wife. Perhaps she might have profited more largely than
+he had thought by her daily intercourse with so capable a woman as Mrs.
+Burney. At any rate, she was not musical, and that was something in her
+favour. Then her stepmother had praised her needlework, and everyone
+knows that to be a good sempstress is next to being a good housekeeper.
+
+He thought that on the whole she would do. Her brother, Lieutenant
+Burney, would naturally spend most of his time at sea. That was a good
+thing. Thomas felt that he should hesitate to make any change in his
+life that involved a liability of frequent visits from a young man who
+had been taught by a murderer. Who could tell what might happen in the
+case of such a young man? As for Miss Burney herself, she was,
+quite apart from her housewifely qualities, a most estimable young
+lady--modest and retiring, as a young woman should be, and very
+beautiful. To be sure, he had often heard that beauty was only skin
+deep, but even assuming that it did not go any deeper, it had always
+been highly esteemed by men--none of them seemed to wish it to be of any
+greater depth; and it was certain that a man with a handsome wife was
+greatly envied--more so even than a man who was married to a plain woman
+but a good housewife. Oh, undoubtedly her beauty commended her to his
+most indulgent consideration. He had no objection in the world to be
+widely envied, if only on account of his wife's good looks. It never
+occurred to him that it might be that some people would think very
+ordinary a face that seemed to one who was in love with it extremely
+lovely. He preserved the precious privilege of a man to raise up his own
+standard of beauty and expect all the rest of the world to acknowledge
+its supremacy.
+
+Yes, he thought that Miss Burney, beauty and all, would suit him, but
+still he hesitated in making another call.
+
+This was when Mr. Kendal had the honour of waiting upon Mrs. Burney, and
+his visit only preceded by a day or two Mrs. Burney's call upon her old
+friend, Mrs. Barlowe, in the Poultry; this interchange of courtesies
+being speedily followed by an invitation for Mrs. Burney and a
+stepdaughter to drink tea with the Barlowe family.
+
+"I am taking you with me, Fanny, because you are the eldest and, as
+should be, the most sensible of the household," said Mrs. Burney,
+explaining--so far as she thought wise--the invitation on the morning it
+was received. "There will be no music at Mrs. Barlowe's, I think, and
+so you will have no distracting influence to prevent your forming a just
+opinion of my old friends."
+
+"I do not mind in the least the absence of music for one night," said
+Fanny.
+
+"I am sure of that," said Mrs. Burney. "Goodness knows we have music
+enough here during any day to last us over a whole week. The
+others could not live without it, even if it were not your father's
+profession."
+
+"Without which none of us could live," remarked Fanny, who had no
+wish to be forced into the position of the opponent of music in the
+household.
+
+"Quite right, my dear," acquiesced the elder lady. "It is a precarious
+way of making a living. To my mind there is nothing so satisfactory as a
+good commercial business--a merchant with a shop at his back can afford
+to laugh at all the world."
+
+"But he usually refrains," said Fanny.
+
+"True; he looks at life with proper seriousness, and without levity.
+Great fortunes are the result of serious attention to business. Levity
+leads to poverty."
+
+"Except in the case of Mr. Garrick and a few others."
+
+"Mr. Garrick is certainly an exception. But, then, you must remember
+that he was a merchant before he became an actor, and his business
+habits never left him. I have heard it said that he got more out of his
+company for the salaries he paid than any theatre manager in Europe.
+But I did not come to you to talk about Mr. Garrick. I only meant to say
+that I know you are an observant girl. You do not merely glance at the
+surface of things, so I am sure that you will perceive much to respect
+in all the members of Mrs. Barlowe's family."
+
+"I am sure they are eminently--respectable, mamma; and I am glad that
+you have chosen me to be your companion this evening. I like going among
+such people--it is useful."
+
+She stopped short in a way that should have aroused the suspicions of
+Mrs. Burney, but that lady was unsuspecting, she was only puzzled.
+
+"Useful?" she said interrogatively.
+
+Fanny had no mind to explain that she thought herself rather good at
+describing people of the Barlowe type, and was ready to submit herself
+to more experience of them in case she might be encouraged to write
+another novel. But she knew that she would have some difficulty in
+explaining this to her stepmother, who herself was an excellent type.
+
+"Useful--perhaps I should rather have said 'instructive,'" she replied,
+after a little pause.
+
+"Instructive, yes; I am glad that you look at our visit so sensibly--I
+knew you would do so. Yes, you should learn much of the excellence of
+these people even in the short time that we shall be with them. And it
+is well that you should remember, my dear Fanny, that you are now quite
+old enough to have a house of your own to look after."
+
+It was now Fanny's turn to seem puzzled.
+
+"I do not quite see how--I mean why--why--that is, the connection--is
+there any connection between----?"
+
+"What I mean to say is that if at some time a suitor for your hand
+should appear, belonging to a respectable mercantile family, you will
+know, without the need of any telling, that your chances of happiness
+with such a man are far greater than they would be were you to wed
+someone whose means of getting a living were solely the practice of some
+of the arts, as they are called--music or painting or the rest."
+
+"I do not doubt that, mamma," said Fanny demurely. She was beginning to
+think that her stepmother was a far better type than she had fancied.
+
+And her stepmother was beginning to think that she had never given Fanny
+credit for all the good sense she possessed.
+
+The six o'clock tea-party in the Poultry was a function that Fanny
+Burney's quick pen only could describe as it deserved to be described.
+All the time that it was proceeding her fingers were itching to start
+on it. She could see Mr. Crisp smiling in that appreciative way that he
+had, as he read her smart sentences, every one of them with its little
+acid flavour, that remained on the palate of his memory. She was an
+artist in character drawing, and she was one of the first to perceive
+how excellent was the material for artistic treatment that might be
+found in the house of the English tradesman--the superior tradesman
+who aspired to be called a merchant. She neglected no opportunity of
+observing such houses; it was only when she was daily consorting with
+people of the highest rank that she became alarmed lest her descriptions
+should be accepted as proof that she was in the habit of meeting on
+terms of intimacy the types of English bourgeois which she had drawn.
+
+The ground-floor of Mr. Barlowe's house in the Poultry was given over to
+his business, which, as has already been mentioned, was that of a
+vendor of gold and silver lace. The walls carried shelves from floor to
+ceiling, and every shelf had its line of boxes enclosing samples of an
+abundant and valuable stock. The large room at the back was a sort of
+counting-house parlour, where Mr. Barlowe sat during the day with his
+son and an elderly clerk, ready for the customers, whose arrival was
+announced by the ringing of a spring.-bell. The scales for the weighing
+of the bullion and the worked gold and silver wire were suspended above,
+the broad counter in the shop, and from a hook between the shelves there
+hung a number of ruled forms with spaces for oz., dwt. and grs. On these
+were entered the particulars of the material supplied to the workmen who
+made up the lace as required. The upper part of the house was the home
+of the family, the spacious dining-room being in the front, its convex
+windows overhanging the busy thoroughfare. Opening off this apartment
+was an equally large drawingroom, and the furniture of both was of
+walnut made in the reign of Queen Anne, with an occasional piece of
+Dutch marqueterie of the heavier character favoured by the craftsmen of
+the previous sovereigns. The rooms themselves were panelled with oak and
+lighted by candles in brass sconces.
+
+It seemed to Fanny, on entering the diningroom, that every seat was
+occupied. But she soon saw that there were several vacant chairs. It
+was the imposing row of figures confronting her that made the room seem
+full, although only six persons were present besides young Mr. Barlowe
+and his parents, who met Mrs. Burney and her stepdaughter at the door.
+Fanny greeted Thomas at once, and she could see that his eyes were
+beaming, but with a rather more subdued light than shone in them on that
+night when he had pressed her hand.
+
+She was conscious, at the same time, of the approach of a big elderly
+gentleman, wearing a well-ordered wig, evidently newly curled, with a
+small lady clad in expensive and expansive black silk by his side. He
+was holding the tips of her fingers and they advanced in step as though
+they were starting to dance a minuet.
+
+They stood in front of her and her mother, while Thomas, moving to one
+side, said, making a low bow:
+
+"Miss Burney, I have the honour to present to you my father, Mr.
+Barlowe, and my mother, Mrs. Barlowe. Mrs. Burney, madam, you are, I
+know, already acquainted with my parents."
+
+The little lady curtsied and her husband made a fine shopkeeper's bow,
+first to Fanny, then to Mrs. Burney.
+
+The formality of the presentation was overwhelming to poor Fanny. She
+could feel herself blushing, and she certainly was more overcome than
+she had been when Count Orloff, the Russian, visited the house in St.
+Martin's Street and she gazed with awe upon the thumb that had, it was
+rumoured, pressed too rigidly the wind-pipe of the unfortunate Peter.
+All that she could do was to try to hide her confusion by the deepest of
+curtsies.
+
+"We are sensible of the honour you have done us, madam," said Mr.
+Barlowe when he had recovered himself--he was addressing Fanny, ignoring
+for the moment the presence of Mrs. Burney.
+
+"Our son has spoken to us of you with great admiration, Miss Burney,"
+said the little lady. "But I protest that when I look at you I feel as
+King Solomon did when he saw the Queen of Sheba, the half has not been
+told."
+
+"Oh, madam, you flatter me," said Fanny, trying to put some force into a
+voice that her shyness had rendered scarcely audible.
+
+Her stepmother, perceiving how she was suffering, hastened to greet in
+a much less formal way their host and hostess; but she had considerable
+difficulty in bringing them down to her level. It seemed that they had
+prepared some high phrases of welcome for their younger visitor only,
+and they had no mind that they should be wasted.
+
+"My stepdaughter is of a retiring nature," said Mrs. Burney. "She is
+quite unused to such ceremony as you honour her with. Well, Martha, how
+is the rheumatism?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+|MRS. BARLOWE did not seem half pleased to be brought down so from the
+high parallels of etiquette among which she had been soaring. But she
+had lost her place, and before she could recover herself, Fanny had
+slipped behind her stepmother.
+
+"Ask me all about her rheumatism, madam, for 'tis me that knows more
+about it than her," said Mr. Barlowe, with a jerk of his thumb and a
+wink in the direction of his wife. The homely enquiry of Mrs. Burney had
+clearly forced him to throw off all ceremony and treat the visit of Miss
+Burney as an ordinary domestic incident.
+
+His wife would have none of this, however; she said in tones of stiff
+reproof:
+
+"Mr. Barlowe, you forget that the young lady has not been presented to
+Brother Jonathan or the Alderman. Thomas, it is for you to usher the
+lady into the presence of your uncles and aunts. Pray be not remiss,
+Thomas. There is no excuse for such an omission."
+
+"I was only waiting until you had finished, ma'am," said Thomas.
+
+"I have finished," she replied, with a stiff nod. "To be sure, 'twas my
+intention to express, in what I trust would be appropriate terms, our
+happiness in welcoming Miss Burney to our humble home; a few phrases of
+this sort were not thought out of place when I was young; but it appears
+that your father knows better what is _comme il faut_ and _haut ton_
+than me. Bring the young lady forward, Thomas."
+
+The younger Thomas looked dubiously from his mother to his father.
+He was uncommonly like an actor who had forgotten his part, Fanny
+thought--he had no initiative. Fanny herself was more at home than any
+of the household. While the young man hesitated, she walked up the room
+as if she meant to present herself to the six figures that sat in a row
+at the farther end.
+
+Thomas was beside her in a moment.
+
+"I ask your pardon, Miss Burney," he said. "But I knew that mamma had at
+least two more welcomes for your ear, and I feared that she had forgot
+them. Do not you think that mamma speaks well? Perhaps it would be
+unjust to judge her by what she said--she only made a beginning. You
+will be delighted when you are going away."
+
+Fanny felt that this prediction was certain to be realized.
+
+"Yes, mamma's good-byes are as well worded as her greetings," he
+continued; "a clergyman could scarcely better them; and I hope----"
+
+But now they were face to face with the six figures sitting in a row,
+and as his conversation was only designed as an accompaniment to the
+march of Fanny to this position, there was no reason to continue it.
+
+The figures were of two men and four ladies. The former were middle-aged
+and bore an expression of gravity that a judge might have envied. Their
+dress was sombre, but of the finest material possible to buy, and each
+of them was painfully conscious of being in unusual garments. Of course,
+Fanny saw in a moment that they were merchants wearing the garments in
+which they attended church.
+
+Of the four ladies, three were elderly and the fourth much younger. They
+wore their hair built up in a way that suggested that they desired to
+follow the fashion but had not the courage to complete the scheme with
+which they had started. The long and thin and highly-coloured feathers
+which crowned the stunted structures on their heads gave them the
+appearance of a picture of unfamiliar birds. Their dresses were
+extremely glossy and of an expensive material, but there was an
+eccentric note about all that made them seem not impressive as they
+should have been, but almost ludicrous. The youngest lady in the row
+showed unmistakable signs of being given to simpering. She had gone much
+further than the others of the party in the architecture of her hair,
+but that was possibly because the material at her command was more
+abundant. The dressing of her hair, however, was by no means in sympathy
+with the style of her garments, the latter being simple and indeed
+rather too girlish for the wearer, who looked between twenty-five and
+thirty.
+
+It was an extraordinary ordeal that confronted Miss Burney, for young
+Mr. Barlowe began presenting her to the group, starting from his left
+and working slowly to the last of the row on the right. There was
+she with the young man standing close to her, but sideways, doing the
+formalities of presenting her, while his father and mother stood behind
+to see that he omitted nothing. Mrs. Burney, a little way apart, was
+alternately smiling and frowning at the ceremonial. She could see, from
+observing the effect that the whole business was producing upon Fanny,
+that the Barlowes were defeating their own ends, assuming that
+they desired Fanny to become a member of their family. These absurd
+formalities were, Mrs. Burney knew, quite out of place in a private
+house. But what could she do to cut them short? She had made an attempt
+before, and it was received in anything but a friendly spirit by their
+hostess, so that she did not feel inclined to interfere again: the thing
+must run its course, she felt, reflecting upon it as though it were a
+malady. There was no means of curtailing it.
+
+And its course was a slow one for the unhappy victim.
+
+"Miss Burney, I have the honour to present my aunt on my mother's
+side--Mrs. Alderman Kensit," droned Thomas, and the lady on the extreme
+left rose at the mention of her name and made a carefully prepared
+curtsey, while the sky-blue feather in her hair jerked awkwardly forward
+until the end almost touched her nose.
+
+"Proud to meet Miss Burney, I vow," said she as she rose; and anyone
+could see from the expression on her face that she was satisfied that
+she had gone far in proving her claim to be looked on as a lady of
+fashion. She had never said "I vow" before, and she knew that it had
+startled her relations. She felt that she could not help that. Miss
+Burney would understand that she was face to face with someone who had
+mingled with the best.
+
+"And this is Aunt Maria, father's sister, Mrs. Hutchings," came the
+voice of Thomas, and the second lady bobbed up with quivering feathers
+and made a well-practised curtsey. She did not trust herself to speak.
+Having heard her neighbour's "I vow," she knew that she could not go
+farther. She would not compete with such an exponent of the mysteries of
+_haut ton_.
+
+"And this is Alderman Kensit of the Common Council; he is my uncle on my
+mother's side--mother is a Kensit, you know," resumed Thomas. "And
+this is Aunt Jelicoe. My mother's sister married Mr. Jelicoe, of Tooley
+Street. And this is my cousin, Miss Jelicoe. I am sure that you will
+like Miss Jelicoe, Miss Burney, she is so young."
+
+The youngest lady of the group simpered with great shyness, concealing
+half her face with her fan and holding her head to one side, and then
+pretending to be terribly fluttered. Her curtsey was made in a flurry,
+and with a little exclamation of "Oh, la!"
+
+Another uncle only remained to be presented; he turned out to be Mr.
+Jonathan Barlowe, and he was, Thomas whispered half audibly to Fanny, in
+trade in the Indies.
+
+It was all over, curtsies and bows and exclamations--echoes of the world
+of fashion and elsewhere--she had been presented to every member of the
+row and they had resumed their seats, while she hastened to the side of
+her stepmother, hot and breathless. She had never before been subjected
+to such an ordeal. She had gladly agreed to accompany her stepmother to
+this house, for she hoped thereby to increase her observation of a class
+of people who repaid her study of them; but she had no notion that she
+should have to vacate her place as an Observer and take up that of a
+Participator. She was to pay dearly for her experience.
+
+She was burning, her stepmother could see; and she believed that this
+was due to her mortification on noticing that the dress of the ladies
+was infinitely more expensive than hers. That would be enough to make
+any young woman with ordinary susceptibilities indignant, she felt; and
+she herself, having had an opportunity of giving some attention to
+the expensive silks--she could appraise their value to a penny--was
+conscious of some chagrin on this account. She was almost out of
+patience with her old friend, Martha Barlowe, for making all this
+parade. The foolish woman had done so, she knew, in order to impress
+Miss Burney and to give her to understand that she was becoming
+associated with no ordinary family. But Mrs. Burney had seen enough
+since she had left Lynn for London to know that Fanny would not be the
+least impressed except in the direction of boredom by such an excess of
+ceremony in the house of a tradesman. She had heard Fanny's comment upon
+the gorgeous chariot which Sir Joshua Reynolds had set up, and she could
+not doubt what Fanny's opinion would be regarding this simple tea to
+which she had consented to go at the Barlowes' house.
+
+Fanny had hurried to her side as soon as she had passed the row of
+uncles and aunts. She thought that the girl seemed overcome by the
+tedium of the formalities; but in a few minutes she saw that Fanny was
+on the verge of laughter.
+
+Mrs. Burney could not say whether she would rather that her charge
+became moody or hilarious.
+
+"Eight separate curtsies," murmured Fanny. "If there are to be the same
+number going away we should begin at once."
+
+Mrs. Burney thought it better not to reprove her for her flippancy just
+at that moment. She condoned it with a smile.
+
+Only a minute were the Burneys left to themselves. Mr. Barlowe, the
+elder, walked solemnly up to them.
+
+"Going on nicely, eh?" he said in a confidential way to Mrs. Burney.
+"Everything being done decently and in order, madam. There has been no
+cause of offence up to the present, though there are three persons in
+that row who are as ready to see an offence where none is meant as a
+bunch of flax to break into flame when a spark falls on it. The young
+lady is discreet; if she had spoken to any one of them and not to the
+others, there would have been a flare-up. The touchy ones belong to my
+wife's family. She was a Kensit, you know."
+
+He made this explanation behind his hand and in a whisper; he saw that
+his wife and son had been in earnest consultation together over some
+vexed question, and now they were hovering about, waiting to catch his
+eye.
+
+"I spoke too soon," he said. "Something has gone astray, and the blame
+will fall on me."
+
+They hovered still nearer, and when he caught his eye, Thomas, the
+younger, stepped up to his father, saying something in his ear. Mrs.
+Barlowe went on hovering a yard or two away.
+
+"That would never do," said her husband, evidently in reply to some
+remonstrance offered by young Thomas. "Never. The whole of the Kensits
+would take offence." Then he turned again to Mrs. Burney, saying:
+
+"Mrs. Burney, madam, my son has just reminded me that I have been remiss
+in doing my duty. It was left to me to present you to our relations at
+the head of the room, but I failed to do so, my mind being too full of
+the pretty curtsies of Miss. But I am ready to make amends now."
+
+But Mrs. Burney had observed a little twinkle in Fanny's eye; she had
+no notion of going through the ordeal to which Fanny had been subjected,
+though the spectacle would doubtless have diverted Fanny hugely.
+
+"Nay, sir," she said quickly to the waiting gentleman, "Nay, sir; you
+have forgotten that the presentation of a lady's daughter is equivalent
+to the presentation of the lady herself."
+
+"What, is that so?" said he.
+
+"Rest assured that it is," said she, "and an excellent rule it is. It
+saves a repetition of a formality that is now frequently omitted in the
+private houses of simple folk like ourselves. Lend me your arm, sir. I
+shall soon make myself at home with Martha's relations."
+
+She did not give him a chance of discussing the point with her; she saw
+that he was about to state his objections to the rule she had invented
+for her own saving, and she was already in advance of him in approaching
+the row of figures on the chairs against the wall. Fanny heard her
+greeting them in turn without any formality, and once again Thomas, the
+younger, was by her side.
+
+His mother was still hovering, glancing suspiciously, first at the young
+couple, and then at the hasty proceedings of her friend, Mrs. Burney.
+
+"It was unlike father to make so grave an omission, Miss Burney," he
+said, apologetically.
+
+"I hope that no harm will come of it," said Fanny. "I am afraid that you
+found us very homely folk at our little house when you did us the honour
+of visiting us," she added.
+
+He waved his hand indulgently, smiling over her head.
+
+"I am always ready to take my place in such a circle," said he,
+"though all the time I have a pretty full knowledge of the exchange of
+courtesies which should mark the introduction of a stranger. Oh, yes, I
+do not mind meeting some people as an equal, if they do not presume upon
+me afterwards. Your brother has gone back to sea, I hear?" he added.
+
+"Yes, we shall not see him again for two years," she replied. "Did he
+presume upon you, sir? If so, I will take it upon me to offer you a
+humble apology."
+
+"I was considering if it might be possible that he was himself mistaken
+in regard to the ear-trumpet," said Thomas.
+
+"Sir Joshua's ear-trumpet? What of that?"
+
+"Lieutenant Burney told me that it was a newly invented musical
+instrument, blown by the ear instead of the mouth. It was not until I
+had spoken of it to my father that I learned that the instrument was an
+ear-trumpet used by the deaf. I had never seen one before. I wonder if
+your brother intentionally deceived me."
+
+"My brother is an officer in His Majesty's Fleet, sir."
+
+"What does that mean, miss?"
+
+"It means that he would resent an accusation of falsehood, sir."
+
+"Pray do not misunderstand me; I would shrink from accusing him of any
+conduct unworthy of an officer and a gentleman. But I was certainly
+deceived in fancying that the ear-trumpet was a musical instrument."
+
+Fanny made no reply. Her attention was directed to the entrance of two
+servants, one bearing a large urn, the other a dish on which lay an
+immense ham.
+
+"I hope you have an appetite, Miss Burney," said young Thomas. "If so,
+you will be able to stay it at that table, I'll warrant. Tea and cake
+may be well enough for such as dine at four, but for us, who are three
+hours earlier, something more substantial is needed. You will find that
+there is no stint in this house."
+
+Fanny had an idea that the young man meant to suggest that she would
+find the tea-table at the Poultry to make a striking contrast to that of
+St. Martin's Street; and she was not mistaken.
+
+Neither was he. A greater contrast could scarcely be imagined. When
+Fanny was formally conducted to a seat at the table by the side of young
+Mr. Barlowe, she found herself confronting such a variety of eatables as
+was absolutely bewildering. The first glance that she had at the dishes
+had a stunning effect upon her. Her impression was one of repletion; she
+felt that that glance was by itself equivalent to a hearty meal--a heavy
+meal. She felt inclined to turn her head away.
+
+But a moment afterwards she became alert. Here was food--ample food for
+an amusing letter to Mr. Crisp, and, later, for a chapter in a possible
+novel. She would let nothing escape her notice.
+
+She settled down to observe everything; and her stepmother, sitting
+opposite to her, knew from the twinkle in her eyes, that Thomas's suit
+was hopeless. She had heard that music is the food of love. She was not
+sure of this; but she was convinced that butcher's meat was not. That
+was where she saw that Thomas had made his mistake. He had placed too
+much dependence upon that great ham. He carved that ham with all the
+solemnity that should accompany such a rite, not knowing that he was
+slicing away all his chances of commending himself to Fanny.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+|IT was an interesting experience for Miss Burney, the writer of novels
+and the writer of letters. She had never sat down with such a company.
+They all had their table peculiarities. One uncle took ale for his
+tea, and drained a tankard before eating anything. The other claimed a
+particular cup on account of its capacity, and he held it to his mouth
+with one hand, while he passed a second down the table to Miss Burney,
+only spilling a spoonful or two in effecting the transit. One of the
+aunts refused to eat anything except cake, explaining, in order to
+relieve the anxiety of the company, the details of an acute attack of
+spleen from which she had recently suffered. The spleen and its humours
+formed the subject of a fitful conversation at her end of the table.
+
+But it was plain that everyone understood that the company had not come
+to the table for conversation, but for food. They did not converse,
+but that was not the same as saying the room was silent. There was a
+constant clanging of cups, a constant clatter of platters, a loud and
+insistent demand on the part of Thomas, the elder, and Thomas, the
+younger, for their guests to say what they would like to eat. This was
+followed by the handing of plates up and down the table, the sound of
+steel knives being sharpened, and the jingle of spoons in saucers. The
+Alderman, who was, of course, an authority on the etiquette of banquets,
+was formulating an elaborate explanation of the mistake that had been
+made in the service of the cold sirloin in advance of the venison pasty;
+and all the time his neighbour was striking the haft of his knife upon
+the table with a request for someone to pass him the pickles.
+
+All the ceremonial veneer had plainly left the company the moment they
+seated themselves, and they addressed themselves to the business of
+feeding. They had healthy appetites--even the lady who had had a recent
+attack of the spleen. She would eat nothing but cake, but she did eat
+cake with confidence. There was no sort of cake that she did not try,
+and her cup was kept in constant circulation from the tea-maker to
+herself--four times she had it refilled, Fanny could not help noticing,
+and she wondered what effect such a diet would have upon her capricious
+spleen. Fanny had an inward hint or two that she had observed quite
+enough of the party to serve her purpose, and she began to count the
+moments until she might be able to steal away without offending the
+susceptibilities of her over-hospitable host and hostess. She hoped that
+her stepmother would listen to her plea of weariness and take her back
+to St. Martin's Street--to the music of St. Martin's Street--to the
+quiet of St. Martin's Street.
+
+The most solid hour of her life had, however, to elapse before her
+fellow-guests pushed their plates (empty) away from them, and Mrs.
+Barlowe said:
+
+"I am afraid you have made a poor tea, Miss Burney; but if you cannot be
+persuaded to have a slice of ham--my son's ham, I call it, for 'tis he
+who picks it out of the curer's stock whenever we have a party--if you
+still refuse it, we might go to the drawing-room."
+
+Fanny was on her feet in an instant. But not sooner than Alderman
+Kensit. That gentleman, rapping with the haft of his knife on the table,
+stood with a sheaf of notes in his hand and clearing his throat with
+great deliberation, started upon a speech in eulogy of Mr. Barlowe's
+merits as a host and as a merchant, and droned away for a good
+half-hour in praise of the virtue of hospitality, his text being on
+the possibility of entertaining angels unawares. Of course, it was only
+natural that, having got upon this track and with the word "angels"
+in his mind, he should go on to say that it was quite possible for a
+hospitably-inclined person to entertain an angel and be fully cognizant
+of the fact, and so forth: in a speech of well-worn platitudes such a
+suggestion seemed inevitable; and all eyes were directed to poor
+Fanny when it seemed impending. It was a great disappointment to
+everybody--except Fanny and her stepmother--when the orator skipped the
+expected phrases, and went on to describe a business visit which he had
+once made to Spain, apropos of nothing in particular. His account of
+this feat was familiar to all his relations, but they listened to him
+without a murmur, only wondering when he would come to the angel and
+Miss Burney.
+
+He never came to the angel and Miss Burney, for it so happened that he
+had turned over two pages of his notes when he should have only turned
+over one. The omitted platitude was on the first, and he failed to
+notice the absence of a platitudinal sequence in the heads of his
+discourse which he had jotted down during the day.
+
+When he had seated himself, Mr. Barlowe, the elder, got upon his feet,
+but he had no notes, and not being a member of the Common Council, he
+was not a past-master of commonplaces. He was only dull for about five
+minutes instead of half an hour. He had risen with a view to repair his
+relative's omission of that obvious point about entertaining an angel by
+appointment in the shape of Miss Burney, but he lost himself before he
+managed to deliver it; it swam out of his ken with several other points
+the moment he got upon his legs.
+
+Fully recognizing how narrow was the escape she had had, Fanny was
+resolved not to run any further chances. She was looking imploringly
+toward Mrs. Burney, trying to catch that lady's eye, but without
+success, and she was about to walk round the table to her side and to
+beg her to come away, when Mrs. Barlowe moved up to her.
+
+"Miss Burney," she said, "I am afraid you did not get anything you liked
+at the table: I saw that you scarce ate more than a morsel of cake."
+
+"I assure you, madam, I had enough," said Fanny. "Your cake was so tasty
+I had no mind to go away from it in search of other delicacies."
+
+"I am glad you liked it. I made it with my own hands," said the hostess.
+"That cake was ever a favourite with Mr. Barlowe and my son. It pleases
+me to know that you and my son have tastes in common. He is a good son,
+is Thomas, though I say it that shouldn't; and he is making his way to
+the front by treading in his father's footsteps. Mr. Barlowe is not a
+Common Councilman, but his father, Thomas's grandfather, was for a year
+Deputy-Master of the Wyre Drawers' Company--his certificate still hangs
+on the wall of the drawing-room. You must see it. Thomas, you will show
+Miss Burney your grandfather's certificate as Deputy-Master."
+
+"I should like very much to see it," said Fanny quickly, "but I fear
+that mamma will wish me to accompany her home at once. My sisters are
+alone to-night and they will feel lonely: we promised to return early."
+
+"I will get Mrs. Burney's permission for you--so good an opportunity
+should not be thrown away," said Mrs. Barlowe, giving the latter part of
+her sentence an unmistakable inflection as she looked toward her son and
+smiled.
+
+She had gone round the table before Fanny could think of another excuse
+for evading the visit to the drawing-room in the company of Mr. Barlowe,
+the younger.
+
+And Mr. Barlowe, the younger, was still by her side.
+
+"Doesn't Uncle Kensit make a fine speech?" he inquired. "He is always
+ready. I have heard it said that he speaks longer than any Alderman in
+the Council."
+
+"I can quite believe it," replied Fanny.
+
+"Tis a wonderful gift," said he--"to be always ready to say what one is
+expected to say. Though I did think that when he referred to the angels
+he meant to--to--go farther--I mean nearer-nearer home."
+
+Thomas might himself have gone farther had his mother not returned at
+that moment from her diplomatic errand.
+
+"I have prevailed upon Mrs. Burney to let you stay to see the
+certificate," said she. "Thomas, you will conduct Miss Burney to the
+drawing-room."
+
+"I am sure that mamma would wish to see the certificate also," said
+Fanny. "I will ask her."
+
+"There is no need, Miss Burney: we shall all join you later," said Mrs.
+Barlowe.
+
+Poor Fanny saw that there was no use trying to evade the attentions of
+Thomas, and as she walked toward the folding doors by his side she was
+conscious of a silence in the room and of all eyes being turned upon
+her--smiles--such knowing smiles--and a smirk from the young lady. Fanny
+was aware of all, and what she was too short-sighted to see she was able
+to imagine. She was burning at the thought of all those people gazing at
+her in silence. It was the most trying moment of her life.
+
+She passed through the door which Thomas opened for her and closed
+behind her.
+
+"I am glad to have this opportunity, Miss Burney," said he, when they
+were alone in the big half-lighted room.
+
+"You must hold your grandfather's certificate in high esteem, sir," said
+she. "I suppose so high a place as he reached is but rarely attained
+by mortals. You will have to guide me to the document: I have very poor
+eyesight, as you must have noticed."
+
+"It is a great drawback," said he. "But we will not talk about
+grandfather's certificate just yet, if you please: I have something to
+say to you that will, I hope, interest you even more than that."
+
+"You surprise me, sir," said Fanny icily.
+
+"Nay, I hope that you know me well enough not to be surprised by all
+that I have to reveal to you now that the opportunity has been given to
+me. Have you no inkling of what I am about to say, Miss Burney?"
+
+"Not the least, sir. I expected only to see that relic of your
+grandfather's honourable career."
+
+"What, after meeting Uncle Kensit and Aunt Jelicoe, you do not feel
+interested in their families?" said he, in a tone of genuine surprise.
+
+Fanny looked at him before she spoke, and there certainly was more than
+a note of casual interest in her voice as she said:
+
+"Their families? Oh, I should like above all things to hear about their
+families."
+
+"I knew that you would," said he, apparently much relieved. (She
+wondered if the relief that she felt was as apparent as his.) "Yes,
+I felt certain that you would welcome this opportunity of learning
+something about the Kensits and the Jelicoes. They are remarkable
+people, as you cannot have failed to perceive."
+
+He made a pause---a pause that somehow had an interrogative tendency.
+She felt that he meant it to be filled up by her.
+
+"They are remarkable people--very remarkable," said she.
+
+"We are very fortunate in all our relations, Miss Burney," said he with
+great solemnity. "But, of course, Uncle Kensit stands high above them
+all in force of character. A great man indeed is Alderman Kensit--a
+member of the Haberdashers' and Grocers' Companies as well as the City
+Council, and yet quite ready to meet ordinary persons as fellow-men. He
+had heard the name of your friend, Sir Joshua Reynolds, though not the
+name of Dr. Burney, and he was kind enough to say that he would have no
+objection in the world to meet either of these gentlemen. That shows you
+what sort of man he is--his fine, simple nature. 'If Dr. Burney or Sir
+Joshua Reynolds were duly presented to me, I should feel it my duty to
+be civil to him '--those were his exact words."
+
+Once more there was an interrogative pause.
+
+"Perhaps they may be fortunate enough to meet him some day," was all
+Fanny could trust herself to say.
+
+"I would not say so much to them--he is very busy just now," said Thomas
+hastily. "It would have to be arranged with care and thought--I would
+not like them to be disappointed. But if it would please you, I daresay
+a meeting could be brought about; meantime, I would not raise up any
+false hopes on the matter, if I were you."
+
+"You may depend on my preserving the strictest secrecy, Mr. Barlowe,"
+said Fanny. "I should think that I might even discipline myself to
+forget that such a person as Alderman Kensit existed."
+
+"That would perhaps be the safest course to pursue," said he
+thoughtfully, and with an air of prudence that made him for the moment
+the subject of a description after Fanny's own heart. She felt that
+she could fool this young man as easily as her brother had fooled him.
+Surely he was made to be fooled, with his solemn airs and his incapacity
+to distinguish what is worthy from what is pompous.
+
+"Yes," she continued, "Dr. Burney has had it intimated to him since the
+publication of his 'History' that the King was desirous of talking to
+him at Windsor, and I know that Sir Joshua is being visited daily by
+the Duchess of Devonshire and the Duchess of Ancaster, and it would be
+a great pity if my father were forced to write excusing himself to His
+Majesty on account of having to meet Alderman--Alderman--I protest that
+I have already forgotten the gentleman's name--nay, do not tell it to
+me; I might be tempted to boast of having met him, and if I did so in
+Sir Joshua's presence, his beautiful Duchesses would be forlorn when
+they found that he had hurried away on the chance of meeting the
+Alderman. And now, sir, I think that I shall return to Mrs. Burney."
+
+"But I have not told you half of what I can tell about our family," he
+cried. "I have said nothing about my aunts--I have four aunts and eleven
+cousins. You would surely like to hear of my cousins. They do not
+all live in London. I have three as far away as Lewes; their name is
+Johnson. My mother's youngest sister married a Johnson, as you may have
+heard. I believe that some objection was raised to the match at first,
+but it turned out quite satisfactory."
+
+"It is pleasant to know that; and so, sir, as we have come to this
+point, don't you think that we had better adjourn our conference?" said
+Fanny. "It would be doing the Johnson family a grave injustice were you
+to attempt to describe their virtues within the time that is left to
+us, and that would be the greatest catastrophe of all. Besides, I came
+hither all unprepared for these revelations. If you had hinted at
+what was in store for me I would, of course, have disciplined
+myself--forewarned is forearmed, you know."
+
+Miss Burney had received many a lesson from Mr. Garrick, from the days
+when he had come to entertain her in the nursery, in the art of fooling,
+and she was now quite capable of holding her own when she found herself
+in the presence of so foolable a person as this egregious young man. But
+the game was apt to become wearisome at the close of an evening when
+she had suffered much, and when the subject of her raillery had shown
+himself to be incapable even of suspecting her of practising on him.
+
+"But there is Aunt Jelicoe; I should like to tell you something of Aunt
+Jelicoe," pleaded Thomas. "Without any of the advantages of her parents,
+Aunt Jelicoe--and--oh, I have something more to say to you--not about
+them--about ourselves--you and me--I was nearly forgetting--you will
+stay----"
+
+"One cannot remember everything, Mr. Barlowe," said Fanny, with her
+hand on the knob of the door. "You have done very well, I think, in
+remembering so much as you have told me. As for ourselves--you have
+quite convinced me of my own insignificance--and yours also, sir. You
+would be doing us a grave injustice were you to speak of us so soon
+after your estimable relations."
+
+"Perhaps you are right," said he, after a few moments of frowning
+thought. "Yes. I see now that it might have been wiser if I had begun
+with ourselves and then----"
+
+Fanny had turned the handle. She re-entered the dining-room, and the
+moment that she appeared silence fell upon the company, and once again
+she was conscious of many eyes gazing at her and of horrid smiles and a
+smirk. That was another ordeal for the shy little Miss Burney--it was an
+evening of ordeals.
+
+She walked straight across the room to her stepmother.
+
+"I am ready to go away now," she said. "We have never stayed at any
+house so long when we only came for tea. I am tired to death."
+
+She took care, of course, that Mrs. Burney only should hear her; and
+Mrs. Burney, being well aware that Fanny was not one to complain unless
+with ample cause, charitably interposed between her and Mrs. Barlowe,
+whom she saw bearing down upon her from the other side of the room.
+
+"Fanny and I will say our good-night to you now, my dear Martha," she
+said. "You have treated us far too kindly. That must be our excuse for
+staying so long. When people drop in to tea they do not, as a rule, stop
+longer than an hour, as you know. But you overwhelmed us."
+
+"I was hoping--" began Mrs. Barlowe, trying to get on to Fanny, but by
+the adroitness of Mrs. Burney, not succeeding. "I was hoping--you know
+what I was hoping--we were all hoping--expecting--they were in the
+drawing-room long enough."
+
+Mrs. Burney gave her a confidential look, which she seemed to interpret
+easily enough. She replied by a confidential nod--the nod of one who
+understands a signal.
+
+"Mum it shall be, then," she whispered. "Not a word will come from me,
+simply good-night; but we could all have wished--never mind, Thomas will
+tell us all."
+
+Mrs. Burney allowed her to pass on to Fanny, having obtained her promise
+not to bother the girl--that was how Mrs. Burney framed the promise in
+her own mind--and Mrs. Barlowe kept faith with her, and even persuaded
+Alderman Kensit, who was approaching them slowly with a sheaf of notes
+in his hand, to defer their delivery in the form of a speech until the
+young woman had gone.
+
+And thus the visitors from St. Martin's Street were able to escape going
+through the formality of taking leave of all the party. They shook hands
+only with their host and hostess and their son, curtseying very politely
+to the company of relations.
+
+"They are warm-hearted people, but their weakness for ceremony and the
+like is foolish enough," said Mrs. Burney to Fanny, when they were safe
+within the hackney carriage.
+
+Fanny laughed.
+
+"Oh, indeed, there is no harm in any of them," she said. "They may be
+a little foolish in thinking that the Poultry is St. James's Palace or
+Buckingham House. The only one among them who is an arrant fool is the
+son. You saw how his mother made it up that he should lead me into the
+other room?"
+
+"It was maladroitly done indeed. What had he to say to you when he got
+you there, I wonder?"
+
+"He had nothing to say to me except that his uncles were second in all
+the virtues and all the talents to no man in town, and that his aunts
+and cousins--but he did not get so far in his praise of his aunts and
+cousins; I fled. Oh, did you see him cut slices off the ham?"
+
+Fanny laughed quite pleasantly, with a consciousness of having at
+her command the material on which to found a scene that would set her
+sisters shrieking.
+
+"Oh, if Mr. Garrick had but seen him carve that ham!" she cried.
+
+"I wish that Mr. Garrick would give all his attention to his own affairs
+and leave us to manage ours in our own way," said Mrs. Burney.
+
+"What? Why, what had Mr. Garrick to do with our visit to----"
+
+"'Twas Mr. Garrick who continued his fooling of Mr. Kendal, sending him
+all over the town trying to make matches. He believes that he is under
+a debt of gratitude to Mr. Garrick and your father for the happiness he
+enjoys with his bride."
+
+"And he suggested that a match might be made between someone in St.
+Martins Street and someone in the Poultry? But how does Mr. Kendal come
+to be acquainted with the Barlowes?"
+
+"His wife was a Johnson before she married her first husband, and the
+Johnsons are closely connected with the Barlowes."
+
+"Young Mr. Barlowe was just coming to the family history of the Johnsons
+when I interrupted him."
+
+"Was he coming to any other matter that concerned you more closely,
+think you?"
+
+Fanny laughed again, only much longer this time than before. She had to
+wipe her eyes before she could answer.
+
+"Dear mamma," she said, "you would laugh as heartily if you had seen him
+when he suddenly recollected that in his eagerness to make me acquainted
+with the glories of the Kensits and the abilities of the Johnsons, he
+had neglected the object of his excursion to that room with my poor
+self, until it was too late."
+
+"I doubt it," said Mrs. Burney. "I do not laugh at incidents of that
+sort. I lose patience when I hear of a young man neglecting his chances
+when they are offered to him. But had he ever a chance with you, Fanny?"
+
+"Not the remotest, dear mamma. If he had remembered to speak in time,
+and if he had spoken with all the eloquence of his admirable uncle, the
+Alderman, he would not have succeeded. If Thomas Barlowe were the last
+man in the world I should e'en die an old maid."
+
+"That is a foolish thing for you to say. You may die an old maid for
+that. But indeed when I saw young Mr. Barlowe in his home, I perceived
+that he was not for you. I could not see you a member of that family,
+worthy though they may be."
+
+"I think if a girl loves a young man with all her heart she will agree
+to marry him, however worthy may be his family," said Fanny. "But I am
+not that girl, and young Mr. Barlowe is not that man."
+
+"I daresay that is how you feel," said the elder lady. "But you must not
+forget, Fanny, that you are no longer a girl; it is quite time that you
+had a house of your own."
+
+"That is true, dear mamma, but for the present I am happy in living in
+your house, and I ask for nothing better than to be allowed to stay in
+your service."
+
+"That is all very well, but----"
+
+"Ah, do not introduce that 'but'--life would be thoroughly happy if it
+were not for its 'buts.' Here we are in Leicester Fields. I feel as if
+I should like a roast apple for supper, to put a pleasant taste in my
+mouth at the close of the longest day I can remember."
+
+They entered the parlour on the ground floor, and found Lottie and
+Susy roasting apples on the hearth, while Dr. Burney sat in his chair
+reading.
+
+"I did not expect you back so soon," said Mrs. Burney to her husband.
+
+"I did not mean to return for another hour," said he, "but Sir Joshua
+left early and brought me with him in his coach. He cut his evening
+short in order to get back to a book which he affirms is the best he has
+read since Fielding."
+
+"It would have to be a good book to take the attention of Sir Joshua,"
+said Mrs. Burney. "Did you hear what was its name?"
+
+"It is called 'Evelina,' I believe," replied Dr. Burney.
+
+"A novel, of course. I remember hearing the name some time ago," said
+his wife. "'Evelina'; yes, it has a familiar sound. I cannot recollect
+at this moment who it was that mentioned it to me. I believe I told you
+of it at the time, Fanny."
+
+"I do not remember your telling me that anyone had mentioned it to you;
+but I am nearly sure that that was the name of the novel advertised in
+the _Chronicle_--you read out all about it after breakfast one morning,"
+said Fanny.
+
+"You are quite right--that was how I got the name in my mind. Now you
+can have your roasted apple, child. But if you are hungry you have only
+yourself to thank for it. Don't bend so over the fire, Susy; your face
+is frightfully fed--so, for that matter, is Lottie's. No, thanks, you
+need not roast one for me."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+|SOME weeks had passed since Cousin Edward had brought his exhilarating
+news that the book was being asked for at the libraries, and during this
+interval, Fanny had heard nothing of its progress. She had applied in
+the name of Mr. Grafton for a copy to be addressed to the Orange Coffee
+House, but Mr. Lowndes had paid no attention to her request, Edward
+found out on going to the Coffee House, so it seemed plain to Fanny that
+the book was not making the stir in the world that her cousin's report
+from the libraries had attributed to it. But here was a distinct proof
+that it had at last reached their own circle, and somehow Fanny and her
+sisters felt that this meant fame. Somehow they had come to think of
+the readers of the book as being very remote from them--people whom they
+were never likely to meet; they had never thought of the possibility of
+its being named under their own roof by anyone not in the secret of its
+authorship. But now the strange thing had come to pass: it was not
+only named by their father, but named with the most extraordinary
+recommendation that it could receive!
+
+What! Sir Joshua was not only reading it, but he had curtailed his stay
+at the club in order to get home to continue it! Sir Joshua had actually
+been content to forsake the society of his brilliant friends, every one
+of them more or less notable in the world, in order that he might read
+the story which Fanny Burney had written all out of her own head!
+
+The idea was simply astounding to the girls and to Fanny herself as
+well. It meant fame, they were assured, and they were right. It took
+such a hold upon Susy and Lottie as prevented them from giving any
+attention to Fanny's amusing account of the evening at the Barlowes';
+and the fun she made--modelled on Mr. Garrick's best nursery style--of
+the Alderman and Mrs. Alderman, with the speeches of the one and the
+St. Giles's curtsies of the other, went for quite as little as did her
+imitation of the bobbing of the crown feathers of the aunts and the
+rustling of their dresses, the material of which was too expensive to
+be manageable: the thick silk was, Fanny said, like a valuable horse,
+impatient of control. She showed how it stood round them in massive
+folds when they curtsied, refusing to respond to the many kicks they
+dealt it to keep it in its place.
+
+From the recalcitrant silks--with illustrations--Fanny had gone to the
+slicing of the ham, the hacking at the great sirloin, the clatter of the
+teacups, and the never-ending passing of plates and pickles, of mustard
+and pepper and salt--the things were moving round the table as the
+planets were shown circling round the sun in the clever invention called
+the Orrery, after one of the titles of the Earl of Cork--only the noise
+made by the perpetual handing on of the things did not suggest the music
+of the spheres, Fanny said.
+
+Her descriptions, bright though they were and full of apt metaphors,
+went for nothing. Her sisters were too full of that wonderful thing
+which had happened--the great Sir Joshua Reynolds, President of the
+Royal Academy, the painter of all the most beautiful duchesses that
+were in the world, to say nothing of beautiful ladies of less exalted
+rank--this great man, who was so busy conferring immortality upon
+duchesses that he was compelled to keep in his painting-room on Sundays
+as well as every other day, and who had never been known to suspend
+his work except upon the occasion of the death of his dear friend Dr.
+Goldsmith--this man was actually at that very moment sitting in his
+arm-chair eagerly reading the words which their sister Fanny had
+written!
+
+The thought was too wonderful for them. The effect that it had on them
+was to make them feel that they had two sisters in Fanny, the one a
+pleasant, homely, hem-stitching girl, who could dance the Nancy Dawson
+jig for them and take off all the people whom she met and thought worth
+taking off; the other a grave authoress, capable of writing books that
+great men forsook the society of other great men to read!
+
+They looked on her now with something of awe in their eyes, and it was
+this lens of awe which, while magnifying her work as a writer where it
+came into their focus, made them fail to appreciate her fun, for they
+saw it, as it were, through the edges of the lens and not through the
+centre.
+
+She quickly perceived the lack of sympathy of her audience.
+
+"What is the matter with you both to-night?" she cried--they were now
+upstairs in her room, and she knew that at the same moment Mrs. Burney
+was giving her husband an account of the party. "What is the matter
+with you both? Has anything happened when I was away to put you out? Why
+don't you laugh as usual? I am sure I never told you anything half so
+funny as this, and I was thinking all the way coming home that it would
+make you roar, and now you sit gravely looking at me and not taking in
+half I say. Pray, what is the matter?"
+
+"Nothing is the matter, dear," said Lottie. "Nothing--only I can't help
+thinking that Sir Joshua is at this moment sitting eagerly reading the
+book that you wrote--you, sister Fanny, that no one who comes to us
+notices particularly. I can hardly bring myself to believe that there is
+only one Fanny."
+
+Fanny looked at her strangely for some moments, and then said:
+
+"I do not blame you, dear; for I am myself of the same way of thinking:
+I cannot realize what the padre told us. I cannot think of myself as the
+Fanny Burney whose book is keeping Sir Joshua out of his bed. That is
+why I kept on harping like a fool on the single string of that odious
+party. I feel that I must keep on talking, lest my poor brain should
+give way when I sit down to think if I am really Fanny Burney, who was
+ever happiest sitting unnoticed in a corner when people came to this
+house, or laughing with you all up here. I cannot think how it would
+be possible for me to write a book that could be read by such as Sir
+Joshua."
+
+"Better think nothing more about it," said Susy, who fancied she saw
+a strange look in Fanny's eyes. "What's the good of brooding over the
+matter? There's nothing strange about Sir Joshua's reading the book:
+I read it and I told you that it was so lovely everybody would want to
+read it. Besides, Sir Joshua may only have mentioned it for want of a
+better excuse to leave the club early; so you may not be so famous after
+all, Fanny."
+
+Susy's well-meant attempt to restore her threatened equilibrium was
+too much for Fanny. But there was a considerable interval before her
+laughter came. She put an arm about Susy, saying:
+
+"You have spoken the truth, my dear sister. I have no right to give
+myself airs until we find out exactly how we stand. But if Fanny Burney,
+the dunce, should find out to-morrow that Sir Joshua has not really
+been kept out of his bed in order to read 'Evelina' by Fanny Burney, the
+writer, the first Fanny will feel dreadfully mortified."
+
+"One thing I can promise you," said Susy, "and this is that Susannah
+Burney will not be kept out of her bed any longer talking to Fanny
+Burney about Fanny Burney's novel, whether Fanny Burney be mortified
+or not. We shall know all about the matter when we go to the Reynolds's
+to-morrow. In the meantime, I hope to have some hours of sleep, though
+I daresay that Fanny Burney will lie awake as a proper authoress should
+do, thinking over the exciting party in the Poultry and wondering how
+she will work in a description of it in her next novel. Good-night, and
+pleasant dreams! Come along, Lottie."
+
+And Fanny Burney did just what her sister had predicted she would do.
+She recalled some of the incidents of the tea-party in the Poultry,
+having before her, not as she had in the hackney coach, the possibility
+of describing them in a letter to Mr. Crisp, but of introducing them
+into a new book.
+
+Before she slept she had made up her mind to begin a new book; for she
+now found it comparatively easy to believe that Sir Joshua was reading
+"Evelina" with great interest. At any rate, she would hear the next day
+when she should go to the Reynolds's, whether Sir Joshua had read it,
+or whether he had only made it an excuse for getting home early in the
+night, so that he might arise early and refreshed to resume his painting
+of the duchesses.
+
+But the next evening, when, with her sisters and their stepmother she
+tripped along the hundred yards or so of Leicester Fields that lay
+between their house and that of Sir Joshua Reynolds, all thoughts of
+the book which she had written and of the book which she meant to write,
+vanished the moment that she was close enough to Sir Joshua's to hear,
+with any measure of clearness, the nature of the singing, the sound of
+which fell gently upon her ears.
+
+"H'sh!" said Mrs. Burney, stopping a few feet from the door. "H'sh! some
+one is singing. I did not know that it was to be a musical party."
+
+"It is Signor Rauzzini," said Lottie. "I would know his voice anywhere.
+We are lucky. There is no one who can sing like Signor Rauzzini."
+
+"We should have come earlier," said Mrs. Burney. "But when Miss Reynolds
+asked us she did not say a word about Rauzzini. And now we cannot ring
+the bell, lest we should interrupt his song."
+
+She stood there with the three girls, under the lighted windows of the
+house, listening to the silvery notes of the young Roman that floated
+over their heads, as if an angel were hovering there, filling their
+ears with celestial music. (The simile was Susy's.) The music sounded
+celestial to the ears of at least another of the group besides Susy; and
+that one thought:
+
+"How can anyone trouble oneself with such insignificant matters as the
+writing of books or the reading of books, when such a voice as that is
+within hearing?"
+
+And then, all at once, she was conscious of the merging of the two
+Fanny Burneys into one, and of the existence of a new Fanny Burney
+altogether--the Fanny Burney who was beloved by the celestial singer,
+and this was certainly the most wonderful of the three.
+
+The thought thrilled her, and she knew that with it the truth of life
+had come to her: there was nothing worth anything in the world save only
+loving and being loved.
+
+And this truth remained with her when the song had come to an end,
+soaring to a high note and dwelling on it for an enraptured space and
+then dying away, so gradually that a listener scarcely knew when it had
+ceased.
+
+Fanny's imagination enabled her to hear, at the close, the drawing-in of
+the breath of the people in the room where the song had been sung: she
+knew that up to this point they had been listening breathlessly to
+every note. She could hear the same soft inspiration--it sounded like
+a sigh--by her sisters and their stepmother. A dozen wayfarers through
+Leicester Fields had been attracted to-the house by the sound of the
+singing, and now stood timidly about the doorway. They also had been
+breathless. One woman murmured "Beautiful!" Fanny could understand
+how the word had sprung to her lips, but what could the man mean, who,
+almost at the same moment, said:
+
+"Oh, my God! how could I have been so great a fool?"
+
+She was startled, and glanced at him. He was a young man, shabbily
+dressed, and on his face there were signs of dissipation. He was
+unconscious of her glance for some moments, then with a slight start he
+seemed to recover himself. He took off his hat with a respectful bow,
+and then hurried away. But Fanny saw him turn when he had gone about a
+dozen yards into the roadway, and take off his hat once more, with his
+eyes looking up to the lighted windows of the house. He was saluting the
+singer whom he had not seen, and to Fanny the act, following the words
+which he had unwittingly uttered, was infinitely pathetic.
+
+It appeared that Mrs. Burney herself received the same impression. Fanny
+was surprised to hear her say:
+
+"Poor fellow! he was once a gentleman!"
+
+Then they entered Sir Joshua's house and were shown upstairs to the
+great painting-room, where Sir Joshua and his sister Frances were
+receiving their guests.
+
+It was quite a small party--not more than a score of people altogether,
+and all seemed to be acquainted with one another. Fanny knew several of
+them; one girl, however, she had never seen before, but she knew who
+she was in a moment. She was standing at one end of the room chatting to
+Mrs. Sheridan, and on the wall just above her there hung the picture of
+a girl in oriental costume and wearing a turban. Fanny Burney had often
+looked at it in admiration, and Sir Joshua had encouraged her, affirming
+that it was the best picture he had ever painted and that it would
+remain in his painting-room until the day of his death. She looked at
+it now with renewed interest, for the original was the girl standing
+beneath it--the beautiful Miss Homeck whom Oliver Goldsmith had called
+the Jessamy Bride. Several years had passed since Sir Joshua had painted
+that portrait, from which Miss Burney had recognized the original; and
+fifty years later another lady recognized the same face, still beautiful
+in old age, from having seen merely a print of the same picture.
+
+When Fanny turned her eyes from the portrait it was to admire the
+features of Mrs. Sheridan. Mrs. Sheridan was gazing somewhat pensively
+at the picture of St. Cecilia which was hanging a little way from that
+of Miss Horneck, and Fanny was near enough to her to perceive how her
+expression grew into that of the face in the picture. At first sight, it
+did not appear to Fanny that the two faces were the same, and it seemed
+as if Mrs. Sheridan perceived this, and determined to vindicate Sir
+Joshua's skill by assuming the pose of the picture. But Miss Burney knew
+that the beautiful lady had done it unconsciously--that it was simply
+because she was recalling the days when she had sat for the painter, and
+had obeyed his injunction to lose herself among the simple chords of the
+aria that was sacred to her since her sister died with the strain upon
+her lips--"I know that my Redeemer liveth."
+
+Fanny gazed at the exquisite face, illuminated with what seemed to her
+to be a divine light, and for the first time she knew something of what
+it was to be a great painter. After "St. Cecilia" the other portraits on
+the walls seemed paltry. There was no divine light in the faces of the
+duchesses. There was life in them; they breathed and smiled and posed
+and looked gracious, but looking at them one remained on earth and among
+mortals. But St. Cecilia carried one into the glorious company of the
+immortals. "She drew an angel down," was the line that flashed through
+Miss Burney's mind at that moment. An angel? A whole celestial company.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+|YOU are looking at her--I, too, have been looking at her; she is
+divine," came a voice beside her. She did not need to turn to see the
+speaker. She had been longing for the sound of his voice for many days.
+She had not even a chance of hearing him sing before this evening.
+
+"She is St. Cecilia herself," said she. "You have seen Sir Joshua's
+picture?"
+
+"My countryman, Piozzi, pointed it out to me," he replied. "I was
+enraptured with the picture. But when the living St. Cecilia entered the
+room and I heard her story, I felt ready to throw myself at her feet and
+implore her as the guardian of poor singers to take me to her care. Her
+face has on it the bloom of a flower dropped fresh from the garden of
+God--angelic beyond the voice of man to describe."
+
+He spoke, as usual, in French to Fanny, but he had greeted Mrs. Burney
+in English, and he tried to translate his last phrase to her into the
+same language. He failed after the first word or two, and begged Miss
+Burney to complete his task for him. She did so, and her stepmother
+smiled and nodded in appreciation of his comment.
+
+"She is indeed a beautiful creature," said Mrs. Burney. "I heard her
+sing more than once at Bath. People went mad about her beauty and her
+singing, and truly I never heard any singing that so affected me. It was
+said that she hated to let her voice be heard in public. Her father,
+Mr. Linley, made her sing: she was a gold mine to Mr. Linley and he knew
+it."
+
+Signor Rauzzini had listened attentively and picked up all that she had
+said without the aid of a word from Fanny.
+
+"But now she will never be heard again no more," said he in English.
+"And she is right in making such a resolution, and her husband is a
+noble man to agree with her in this," he continued, but in French to
+Fanny. "Picture that lovely creature placing herself on the level of
+such a one as the Agujari! sordid--vulgar--worldly! quarrelling daily
+with the _impresario_ on some miserable question of precedence---holding
+out for the largest salary--turning a gift which should be divine into
+gold! Oh; she was right."
+
+"Signor Rauzzini no doubt thinks it a pity that such a voice should
+cease to give pleasure to the thousands it enchanted," said Mrs. Burney,
+not being able to follow him in French.
+
+"Oh, no, no; just the opposite," cried Fanny. "He says he admires her
+the more for her resolution."
+
+"I am so glad. Pray tell him that I agree with him," said Mrs. Burney.
+"A good woman will avoid publicity. Her home should be sufficient for
+her."
+
+Fanny did not need to translate the words, he grasped their meaning at
+once.
+
+"I agree with all of my heart, madame," he cried. "I would not wish my
+mother or my sister to have their names spoken with freedom by
+everyone who paid a coin to hear them sing. I should think it--_come
+si chiamo?_--Ah! forgive my poor English." He went off into French once
+more--"Pray tell madame that I think it would be odious to hear the name
+of my mother or my sister tossed from man to man as they toss the name
+of a woman who comes before the public. I think the woman who would hide
+herself from all eyes as a violet hides itself under a leaf is the true
+woman. The shy, timid, retiring one--I know her--I esteem her. I could
+love no other. I have a deep respect for the woman of the Orient who
+would die sooner than let her face be seen by a man."
+
+"What does he say--I like his eagerness?" asked Mrs. Burney.
+
+Fanny translated some of his phrases, and Mrs. Burney nodded and smiled
+her approval.
+
+"The bloom on the wing of a butterfly is a very tender thing," resumed
+the Roman; "the breath of a man is sufficient to remove it--a single
+breath--and when the bloom has gone the charm of the beautiful creature
+has gone also."
+
+"I am not sure that I like the comparison to the butterfly," said Fanny,
+smiling. "The butterfly is the emblem of all that is fickle--all that
+is idle except for its yielding to its fickleness. It is beautiful, but
+nothing else."
+
+He laughed.
+
+"I am rebuked," he said. "But with us the butterfly is the symbol of the
+life--of the soul. Assume that and you will, I think, see that I meant
+not to hint at the beauty of the frivolity, but at the beauty of the
+soul. I feel that a woman's life has on it the bloom of a butterfly's
+wing, and if that is once breathed on, its beauty is gone for ever--the
+woman's life is never again what it was--what it was meant to be. But
+if you wish, I will not go beyond the violet as my emblem of the best
+woman--my woman."
+
+"I thank heaven that I have no voice," said Fanny gently, after a
+pause. Young Mr. North-cote, Sir Joshua's pupil, had approached Mrs.
+Burney--his eye was on Susy--in order to tell her that tea was being
+served in the drawing-room.
+
+Mrs. Burney thanked him and took the arm that he offered.
+
+"We shall all go in together," said Mrs. Burney, with a sign to Fanny.
+
+But Rauzzini contrived to evade her eye by renewing his admiration of
+the "St. Cecilia."
+
+"If I could but reproduce in song the effect that flows from her face I
+should be the greatest singer in the world," said he.
+
+"You need not envy her," said Fanny. "Do you remember Mr. Handel's
+setting of 'Alexander's Feast '?"
+
+"Only an aria or two."
+
+"One of the lines came into my mind just now when I looked at that
+picture. 'She drew an angel down.'"
+
+"And it was very apt. She would draw an angel down."
+
+"Yes; but the poet has another line before that one--it refers to a
+singer--'He raised a mortal to the skies.' That was the line which came
+to my mind when I heard you sing. You raise mortals to the skies. Your
+power is equal to that of St. Cecilia."
+
+"Nay, nay; that is what you have done. I have been uplifted to the
+highest heaven by you. When you are near me I cannot see anything of the
+world. Why have we not met more frequently? Ah, I forget--I am always
+forgetting that the months you spoke of have not yet run out. But I am
+not impatient, knowing that the prize will come to me in good time.
+I have been away at the Bath and Salisbury and Bristol and I know not
+where, singing, singing, singing, and now I go to Paris and Lyon for a
+few months, but you may be certain that I shall return to England--then
+the separating months shall have passed and you will welcome me--is not
+that so?"
+
+"I think I can promise you--every day seems to make it more certain that
+I shall welcome you."
+
+"My angel--my dream!----"
+
+He said the words--both long-drawn monosyllables in French--in a whisper
+that gave them the full force of passionate expression. He had need to
+whisper, for several people were in the room, and Mr. Boswell was among
+the number, and everyone knew that Mr. Boswell, as a gossip-monger, had
+no equal in town. He was always pimping and prying--nosing out germs
+of scandal--ever ready to make mischief by telling people all the
+nasty things other people had said of them. Mr. Boswell had his eye on
+them--and his ear. In addition, Mrs. Thrale, who had arrived late, had
+no idea of allowing the handsome Roman singer to waste himself with a
+nonentity like Miss Burney, and she was now perilously close to him whom
+she came to rescue.
+
+But the whisper and the expression imparted to it were enough for Fanny
+Burney. He might have talked for hours in his impassioned way without
+achieving the effect of his whispered exclamations.
+
+Then Mrs. Thrale hastened up to his side full of her resolution to
+rescue him from the conversation with the insignificant person whom his
+good nature suffered to engage his attention.
+
+"Why, what is this?" cried the little lady who regarded herself with
+complacency as the soul of tact. "Have you explained to Signor Rauzzini
+that you are the unmusical member of the family, Miss Burney?"
+
+"I believe that he is aware of that fact already, madam," replied Fanny.
+
+"And yet he is in close converse with you? He is the most good-natured
+man in town," said Mrs. Thrale. "Does he hope to interest you when your
+father failed?"
+
+"He has never ceased, to interest me, madam," said Fanny.
+
+"Then he did not talk about music?"
+
+"Oh, yes; I think he said something about music."
+
+"Yes, touching a note here and there, as one might in passing a
+harpsichord. Of course you could not have lived in Dr. Burney's house
+without being able to understand something of music. But we must not
+trespass upon Signor Rauzzin's courtesy, Miss Burney. Everyone is
+talking of him in the drawing-room--he must gratify the company by
+mingling with them."
+
+Then she addressed Rauzzini in French.
+
+"I promised to go in search of you, signor," she said. "Madame Reynolds
+is distracted. I came on my mission famished--I had vowed, as the
+crusaders did, not to taste food or drink until I had succeeded in
+my emprise. May I ask you to have pity on me now and lead me to the
+tea-table?"
+
+He turned to ask Fanny to accompany them, but he found that she had
+slipped quietly away. She was already at the door.
+
+"My duty was to Miss Burney, madame, but she has been frightened away,"
+said he.
+
+"Oh, she is the shy one of the family, I believe," said Mrs. Thrale. "I
+am sure that all the time you were so good-natured as to talk to her
+she was wishing that the floor would open and allow her to sink out of
+sight. She would have thought it much more good-natured on your part
+if you had taken no notice of her. I have scarcely spoken to her half a
+dozen times myself, though I have frequently been to her father's house.
+I cannot rack my brain to discover a congenial topic with such young
+people. Were you successful, do you think?"
+
+He made a gesture with his hands that might mean anything. Mrs. Thrale
+assumed that it meant nothing--that he felt he was not greatly concerned
+whether he had been successful in finding a congenial topic of converse
+with Miss Burney or not.
+
+She laughed.
+
+"Poor girl!" she said. "She may have her dreams like other girls."
+
+"I believe she has--poor girl!" said he. "But I know that in her
+knowledge of music she goes deeper--soars higher than most young ladies
+who have submitted to lessons from a _maestro_--nay, higher than the
+_maestro_ himself."
+
+Mrs. Thrale looked doubtfully at him.
+
+"Is it possible that we are talking of two different people?" said she.
+
+"Ah, that is quite possible," said he.
+
+"I was referring to Miss Burney, the one of the family who does nothing
+except sew--her mother commends her sewing very highly. I fear that you
+actually believed that you were in converse with one of her sisters."
+
+"Madame," said he, "it is my belief that the one who sews in a family is
+far more interesting than the one who sings. But Miss Burney need not,
+in my eyes, be any more than Miss Burney to be interesting, though she
+has taught me more of music than I ever learned before."
+
+"Is't possible? Oh, yes: I should remember that her father told me that
+she was his amanuensis--she made a neat copy of all his notes for the
+'History of Music.' It is no wonder that she knows something about
+it. Such a good daughter! And the father took no trouble about her
+education. She did not know her letters till she was eight or nine, I
+believe--perhaps twelve. I don't believe that I ever exchanged half a
+dozen words with her before this evening; and as for men--you are the
+first man I ever saw taking any notice of her."
+
+His face lit up strangely, Mrs. Thrale thought, at this revelation. He
+gave a laugh.
+
+"So much the better for her--so much the worse for the men," said he.
+"And now, madame, if the tea has not become too strong, and if your
+hunger has not made you too weak to walk to the table, I should esteem
+it an honour to conduct you thither."
+
+Mrs. Thrale smiled her acquiescence, and she entered the drawing-room on
+the arm of the singer. Nothing could have convinced her that he did not
+feel grateful to her for rescuing him from the position in which his
+good nature had placed him--by the side of the most insignificant young
+woman among all Sir Joshua's guests.
+
+She believed that she was increasing his debt of gratitude to her by
+keeping him with her for the next half-hour. Her sense of protecting him
+gave her naturally a sense of patronage, which was quite pleasant for
+her to experience, especially when she glanced round the room and saw
+several ladies of higher rank than she could pretend to, frowning in her
+direction. She knew how Signor Rauzzini was pestered by the attentions
+of such as these, and she could almost hear the well-bred sneers of
+her friends as they glanced at her and wondered if she never meant to
+release the unfortunate young man--she knew just what they would say,
+and she accepted their imaginary words as a real compliment to
+her protective powers. Her smile down the table was one of great
+complacency.
+
+She also noticed that the insignificant Miss Burney was glowing as she
+had never seen her glow before. Her face was rosy and her eyes were
+actually sparkling. Mrs. Thrale had never imagined that such eyes as
+Miss Burney's could sparkle, no matter what their provocation might be.
+
+"Poor girl! Poor child! Her head is turned, as I feared it would be
+when I saw the Rauzzini with her. She is the unhappy victim of his good
+nature."
+
+This was the conclusion come to by the little lady whose ability to
+pronounce an opinion on such a matter was widely acknowledged; and
+coming to such a conclusion, she naturally commended all the more
+heartily the step which she had taken for separating the foolish girl
+and the fascinating young man.
+
+She would have waved aside any suggestion that might be made to her to
+the effect that the increase in Miss Burney's colouring and the light in
+her eyes was due to Miss Burney's overhearing the conversation between
+her mother and Sir Joshua respecting a book which he had stayed up all
+night to read and which he had just finished in time to receive his
+guests.
+
+The name of the book was "Evelina; or, a Young Lady's Entrance into the
+World," he said, and he was urging Mrs. Burney to follow his example and
+read it without further delay.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+|FANNY was at her stepmother's elbow while Sir Joshua gave her a full
+account of how he had been induced to send to Lowndes for this wonderful
+book on the recommendation of Mrs. Darner, whose portrait he was
+painting. Mrs. Darner had excused her unpunctuality at one of her
+sittings on the ground that she had become so interested in the fortunes
+of "Evelina" that she could not put the book down.
+
+"Get it for yourself, sir," she had said, "and you will quickly
+acknowledge that my excuse is valid."
+
+"Of course I did not get it then," said Sir Joshua. "I find it
+impossible to keep pace with the useful books that are printed in these
+days, and I have long ago given up novels. But when, the next day, Mrs.
+Darner came to sit to me with a woebegone countenance and the traces of
+tears on her cheeks, so that I could only paint her draping, and that,
+too, had a woeful droop in its folds--for let me tell you, madam, that a
+woman's dress is usually in sympathy with the mood of the wearer--when,
+I say, the lady entered my painting-room in this guise, I ventured to
+inquire if she was serious in her wish that I should depict her in the
+character of Niobe. 'Oh, sir,' she cried, ''tis all due to that horrid
+Branghton--he it is that has brought me to this.' 'The wretch!' said I.
+'Have you no friend who will run him through the vitals? Where is he
+to be found, that I may arrange for his destruction?' 'He is the
+persecutor of my beloved Evelina,' she replied, 'and heaven only knows
+what is to become of the poor girl.'
+
+"Now, madam, when I had thus brought before me the effect that the book
+had produced upon so natural a lady as Mrs. Darner, what was left for
+me but to buy it? And now you see the effect that it has had upon me,"
+continued Sir Joshua, "so you must e'en buy it also."
+
+"Nay, Sir Joshua," said Mrs. Burney, "your case has furnished me with
+the strongest of reasons for not buying it. I would not allow a book
+into my house that would so turn me aside from my ordinary life and my
+daily business. What, sir, would you have me stay out of my comfortable
+bed for hours, in order that I might make myself more uncomfortable
+still by reading of the imaginary woes of a young woman who is nothing
+to me but a shadow?"
+
+"Oh, I promise you that you will find Evelina far from being a shadow,"
+said Sir Joshua. "She is a creature of flesh and blood, with a heart
+that beats so that you find your own heart keeping time with it, whether
+it pulsates slowly or fast. In short, Evelina lives. I have no patience
+with those attenuated figures that dance on the stage of so many of our
+new novel writers; I can see the stuffing of straw when their constant
+gyrating has worked a rip in their seamy side; creatures of rag and
+wire--they never deceive one for a moment--why, their very gyrations are
+not true to life. But Evelina lives. Some of the characters in the book
+are distasteful--some of them are vulgar, but the world is made up of
+distasteful and vulgar people, and a novel should be true to the world
+in which the characters are placed. Oh, that was where the greatness
+of poor Dr. Goldsmith was to be found. He would abate nothing of the
+vulgarity of the vulgar characters in his plays, because he meant them
+to live. The people hissed his vulgar bailiffs in his _Good-Natured
+Man_, and when Colman cut them out he himself restored them when Shuter
+played the piece for his benefit the following year, and everyone saw
+that they were true to life. The vulgarity of Tony Lumpkin and the Three
+Pigeons made Walpole shudder, but there they remain in the best comedy
+of our time, and there they will remain for ever. Oh, yes; the author of
+'Evelina' knows what life is, and so his book will live."
+
+"And who is the author of this surprising book?" asked Mrs. Burney.
+
+"That is a mystery," replied Reynolds. "I sent to Lowndes, the
+bookseller, to inquire, and he pretended that he did not know. He could
+only say that he was a gentleman of note living in Westminster."
+
+"Ah, that is one of the booksellers' tricks to make their wares seem
+more attractive," said she. "They know that a man in a mask awakens
+curiosity."
+
+"That is so; but 'Evelina' stands in need of no advertisement of such a
+nature. It would attract attention even though the name of Mr. Kenrick
+were attached to it. But everyone is dying to find out the name of the
+author; Mrs. Darner believes it to have been written by Horace Walpole,
+but only because 'The Castle of Otranto' was published without his name
+being on the title page."
+
+"Not a very cogent line of argument, it seems to me," said Mrs. Burney.
+"Well, Sir Joshua, I hope you will enjoy a comfortable sleep to-night,
+now that you have the fortunes of that young lady off your mind."
+
+"Oh, my dear madam, I do assure you that my mind is not yet free from
+the effects of reading that book," cried Reynolds. "I am more faithful
+to my friends in some books than to forget all about them when I lay
+them on the shelf. If they live, be assured that I live with them, and
+the thought of them is to me at times as pleasant as the thought of the
+best friends I have met in my daily life. I have laid 'Evelina' on a
+shelf in my memory--not one of the back shelves, but one that is near
+to me, so that I can console myself with her companionship when I am
+lonely."
+
+"I have never heard you praise a book so heartily, sir," said Mrs.
+Burney. "But I will beg of you not to mention it to any of my family,
+for if it has so unhinged you, what would it not do to those poor
+girls?"
+
+He did not catch all she had said, for she spoke in a voice which she
+did not mean to travel to Fanny or Susy, who were chatting to Miss
+Theophila Palmer, Sir Joshua's niece.
+
+"You may depend on my telling them all I find out in regard to the
+author," said he in a tone of assent.
+
+"No, no," she cried, getting nearer to the bell of his trumpet. "No, no;
+I want you to refrain from mentioning the book to them. I discourage all
+novel reading, excepting, of course, the works of Mr. Richardson, and
+perhaps one or two of Fielding, with some of the pages gummed together
+to prevent them from being read."
+
+"Nay, to tempt people to read them," said Reynolds. "What were we saying
+about the attractions of a mask? Well, my word for it, the attractions
+of a book without a name are as nothing compared with the attraction
+of gummed pages. But you will let them read 'Evelina,' and you will,
+moreover, read it yourself--yes, and you will all be the better and not
+the worse for doing so."
+
+Mrs. Burney shook her head.
+
+It was no wonder that Mrs. Thrale thought that Miss Burney looked
+flushed at this time, or that there was an unwonted sparkle in her eyes;
+for she had heard nearly every word that Sir Joshua had said, and she
+could scarcely contain herself for delight. For all her primness, she
+was at heart a merry schoolgirl, ready to break into a dance at good
+news, and to shout for joy when things had advanced as she had hoped
+they would. She felt that it was very hard on her that she could not
+throw her hat up to the ceiling of the room, as she had heard of Dr.
+Goldsmith's doing with his wig in the exuberance of his spirits in this
+same room--when Miss Reynolds was in her bed upstairs. It was very hard
+on her to be compelled to restrain her feelings; she was unconscious of
+the sparkle in her eyes, or of the p�ony flush of her cheeks that Mrs.
+Thrale had noticed and was still noticing.
+
+She had never felt so happy in all her life. A short time before she had
+felt that everything in the world was insignificant in comparison
+with love; but now she realized that there was another joy worthy of
+recognition. She was not wise enough to perceive that the two emotions
+sprang from the same source--that the foundation of love is the impulse
+to create, and that the foundation of an artist's joy in fame is the
+knowledge that what he has created is recognized by the world. She was
+(fortunately) not wise enough to be able to analyse her feelings--to be
+wise enough to analyse one's feelings is to be incapable of feeling. All
+that she was conscious of at that moment was that all worth having in
+the world was hers--the instinct to create, which men call Love, the joy
+of obtaining recognition for the thing created, which men call Fame.
+
+It was no wonder that Mrs. Thrale saw that light in her face and in her
+eyes; nor was it strange that the same observant lady should attribute
+that illumination to the touch of the fire of the sacred torch. She
+looked at the handsome face of the Roman youth, with its expression of
+frankness, and at his eyes, full of the generous warmth of the South,
+and once more she glanced at Miss Burney, and saw in her face the
+reflection of the southern sunny glow.
+
+"Poor girl--poor girl!" were the words that sprung to her lips. "Only a
+moment's attention from him--only a word--nay, a glance from those
+eyes would have been enough--and she is at his feet. Poor girl!
+Knowing nothing of the world--incapable of understanding anything of
+life--having no gift to attract attention---"
+
+"Dear Mrs. Thrale, I have come to you for help. You are sure to have
+read this book that everyone is talking about--this 'Evelina'--and you
+can, I am certain, tell us who is the author. Pray let us know if your
+friend Dr. Johnson had a finger in it--I have heard that some of the
+writing is in the style of Dr. Johnson--or was it Mr. Anstey--they say
+that some chapters could only have come from the author of 'The Bath
+Guide.'"
+
+It was Lady Hales who had hurried up with her inquiries. She seemed
+to be the representative of a group with whom she had been standing,
+several ladies and two or three men.
+
+It so happened, however, that Mrs. Thrale had not yet read the book
+around which discussion had been buzzing; but she had no intention of
+acknowledging that, with her literary tastes and with her friendship for
+Dr. Johnson, she was behind the times. Two or three people had within
+the week made remarks about "Evelina" in her presence, but she had no
+idea that it was to become a topic of society.
+
+She smiled enigmatically, to give herself time to make up her mind what
+her reply should be--whatever it might be, it certainly would not be a
+confession of ignorance. She came to the conclusion that on the whole
+she could not do better than mould her answer so as to heighten the
+mystery of the authorship.
+
+"Is it possible that none of our friends have discovered the author?"
+she asked, still smiling shrewdly, so as to suggest that she herself had
+long ago been let into the secret.
+
+"We have had many conjectures," said Lady Hales. "And let me whisper in
+your ear--there is one among us who is ready to affirm that the address
+of the author is Thrale Hall, Streatham."
+
+"I vow that I am overwhelmed," cried the little lady. "The compliment is
+one that any writer might envy. Pray how could it enter the mind of any
+of our friends to connect me with the authorship of such a book?"
+
+"There are some touches of your style in many of the letters of
+Evelina," replied Lady Hales. "And some have said that only you could
+have had the varied experiences described so vividly."
+
+"A marvellous book, truly, this 'Evelina,'" cried Mrs. Thrale. "Some
+people, you say, recognize the hand of Dr. Johnson in its pages, others
+the pen that wrote 'The Bath Guide,' and now it is suggested that the
+whole was the work of a humble scribbler named Mrs. Thrale--a person who
+has surely little in common with the two writers you have named."
+
+She took care that her affectation of surprise had an artificial note
+about it. There was no knowing how things might turn out. Mrs. Thrale
+had no objection in the world to have her name associated with the
+authorship of a book about which it was clear a good many people would
+be talking for some months to come.
+
+"May I not be entrusted with something more definite?" asked Lady Hales
+in a low voice. "If it is a secret for the present--well, you know that
+I am one to be trusted."
+
+"I can assure you definitely that the book was not written by Dr.
+Johnson," replied Mrs. Thrale, with a smile. "He has not for a single
+week during the past year failed to visit us at Streatham for at least
+four days at a time. He reads to me all that he writes--it is not
+much--and I can give you an assurance that the name of Evelina has not
+once appeared in his manuscript. I may also say that if you take my
+advice you will not be in too great haste to attribute the book to Mr.
+Anstey."
+
+This was not mystification, it sounded much more like revelation, Lady
+Hales thought.
+
+"I dare not press you further, madam," she said.
+
+"Believe me, I can appreciate your reticence, if----"
+
+"Nay, now you suggest that I have told you a secret that I have
+concealed from everyone else, and that is going too far," cried Mrs.
+Thrale. "Now, dear madam, cannot you see that even if I were in the
+secret of the authorship, I should be guilty of a great breach of
+courtesy were I to reveal it to anyone? If an author choose to remain
+anonymous, is it not discourteous to try to snatch away his--or
+her--veil of anonymity?"
+
+"I can but assent," said Lady Hales. "I do not doubt that this view of
+the matter is the correct one. At any rate, you may depend on my acting
+in accordance with it. I shall make no further attempt to pry into
+the secret, and I shall think it right to dissuade my friends from the
+quest."
+
+"In that I am sure you will be acting in accordance with the author's
+wishes," said Mrs. Thrale, smiling knowingly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+|SO they parted; and Lady Hales hastened back to her friends to whisper
+in their ears that the mystery was as good as solved: Mrs. Thrale had as
+much as acknowledged that she was the author of "Evelina," but she hoped
+that, as she had written the book without the knowledge of her husband,
+her friends would respect her desire to remain anonymous.
+
+"Mr. Thrale, being a Member of Parliament, would not like to have the
+name of his wife bandied about among ordinary people as that of the
+writer of a novel," Lady Hales explained, though really no explanation
+was needed of a fact that could be appreciated by every sensible person
+aware of the contemptible character of the novels of the day. "Only Dr.
+Johnson is in the secret," she continued. "Dr. Johnson, as we all know,
+lives at Thrale Hall for five days out of every week, finding the table
+provided by Mrs. Thrale to suit his palate very much better than that
+controlled by poor blind Mrs. Williams at Bolt Court."
+
+"That may account for some of the touches in the book in the style of
+Dr. Johnson," said one of the ladies. "You may be sure that no book
+could be written under the same roof as Dr. Johnson without his having
+something to say to it."
+
+"I never could understand how so fastidious a lady as Mrs. Thrale could
+tolerate the company of Dr. Johnson at her table, but now the secret is
+out--this secret and t'other," said one of the gentlemen. "Dr. Johnson
+is not seen at his best at the dinner-table."
+
+"So far as that goes, neither is Mr. Thrale himself," said another. "He
+has a huge appetite."
+
+"I had an inkling all along that Mrs. Thrale wrote the book," said a
+lady with a huge hat. "I actually remarked to my sister, while I was
+reading it, 'if this story is not written by Mrs. Thrale, Mrs. Thrale is
+the one who would like to have written it.'"
+
+"But mind, not a word must be breathed that would hint that she
+acknowledged it to me by direct word of mouth," cried Lady Hales,
+beginning to have some qualms. "No; you must understand clearly that she
+did not say in so many words that she wrote it. Indeed, her last words
+to me were, that anyone who should name in public the author of a book
+published anonymously would be guilty of a great discourtesy."
+
+"She is perfectly right: to do so would be to exhibit very bad taste
+truly," came more than one acquiescent voice.
+
+And the result of their complete agreement on this point was the
+immediate dissemination of the report that Mrs. Thrale was indeed the
+writer of "Evelina."
+
+But that clever little lady, on getting rid of the questioner, found
+that Signor Rauzzini had slipped away from her side and was now making
+his adieux to Mrs. Burney and her stepdaughters. She noticed that the
+light had gone out of Fanny Burney's eyes as the young singer bent
+over her hand, and once again she shook her head. She had given more
+attention to Miss Burney during the previous hour than during all the
+years she had visited at St. Martin's Street. She thought that it might
+be her duty to say a word of warning to the young woman, who could not
+possibly know anything about the world or the deceitfulness of Italian
+vocalists.
+
+Meantime, however, she ordered one of her three footmen to tell the
+coachman to drive to the shop of Lowndes, the bookseller, and there she
+purchased a bound copy of "Evelina," at nine shillings.
+
+Mrs. Thrale was, of course, well known to Mr. Lowndes, and seeing her,
+through the window of his office, enter his shop, he put his quill
+behind his ear and emerged, bowing and smiling.
+
+"How was it that you failed to apprise me that you had printed 'Evelina
+'?" she inquired.
+
+"Is't possible that you did not receive my advertisement, madam?" he
+cried. "Why, I posted it to you with my own hands even before the book
+had left the press, the truth being that I was anxious to get your
+opinion respecting it."
+
+"I never had any advertisement from you about it," she replied.
+
+"Oh, I was to blame for not underlining the announcement, madam," said
+he. "I ask your pardon. How were you to know that it was not one of the
+usual novels of the season?--I do not venture to recommend such to the
+attention of ladies of superior tastes like yourself, madam. I shall not
+forgive myself, rest assured. But I am punished, in that I have been
+unable to sell a second edition by telling my customers how highly it
+was esteemed by Mrs. Thrale."
+
+"You assume that it would be highly esteemed by me, Mr. Lowndes; but I
+am not quite sure that you do not flatter yourself in believing that my
+judgment would be the same as that of the public. The poor public! How
+can they possibly know whether a book is good or bad?"
+
+"They cannot, madam; that is why we poor booksellers must only trust to
+sell our books on the recommendation of ladies of taste and judgment.
+May I beg, madam, that you will favour me with your opinion respecting
+the merits of 'Evelina'?"
+
+"It has been so great a success that I fear I shall not think highly of
+it. Pray, who is your modest author?"
+
+"Positively, madam, I am unable to tell you. The MS. was brought to me
+with a letter purporting to come from a Mr. Grafton at the Orange Coffee
+House, near the Haymarket, and he desired the secret of its authorship
+to be kept close."
+
+"Ah, yes; to be sure--kept close from the vulgar public; but he could
+never think that you were violating his confidence by telling me his
+name."
+
+"He could not be so unreasonable, madam--nay, rather would he kneel
+to you--for he could scarce fail to understand the value that we set
+on----"
+
+"I am not convinced either that he would benefit from the exchange of
+confidence or that I should; but prithee, sir, what is his name?"
+
+"'Fore heaven, madam, I have told you so much as is known by me
+respecting the gentleman. Never before have I been placed in so
+remarkable a position. My fault, Mrs. Thrale, no doubt: I should have
+taken precautions against being thus surprised into publishing a book
+without knowing the name of the author. But although my judgment enabled
+me to perceive that the work was out of the common, yet I never counted
+on its merits being recognized so speedily. May I beg of you to favour
+me with your opinion as to who the writer may be, madam--that is, when
+you have read it, unless, indeed--" he glanced at her shrewdly with
+a little knowing smile-- "unless, indeed, you could so favour me
+_instanter_."
+
+"Nay, Mr. Lowndes, how would it be possible for me to give you an
+opinion as to the authorship of a book which I have not yet read? I am
+not one of those astute critics who, they say, can tell you all there
+is to be known about a book without cutting the leaves, or even--if you
+slip a guinea into their hand--without opening the covers."
+
+"I thought that perhaps you might be one of those who have been let into
+the secret, madam. I trust that Dr. Johnson's health has not been so bad
+as to prevent him from doing any literary work. Ah, what does not that
+great man--nay, what does not the world owe to you, Mrs. Thrale?"
+
+"If you would suggest, Mr. Lowndes, that the book about which we have
+been conversing was written, even in part, by Dr. Johnson, I can give
+you an assurance that such is not the case. He is in no way inclined
+to engage in any form of literary labour. He grudges his friends even a
+note."
+
+"There are some gentlemen who come hither and honour me by conversing
+on the subject of letters, and more than one of them has pointed out
+passages in 'Evelina' that show signs of the great Doctor's pen; but for
+that matter----"
+
+"I agree with you, sir; every scribbler in Grub Street apes the style of
+Dr. Johnson, but only to reveal the ape in himself. Now, Mr. Lowndes,
+if you really are in earnest in saying that you are unaware who is the
+author of your book, I have done you some service in curtailing by one
+the list of authors to whom it might possibly be attributed. You may
+strike out the name of Johnson, sir, on my authority."
+
+"I shall certainly do so, madam--not that I, for my own part, was ever
+foolish enough to fancy that he had written more of it than a page or
+two. I am indebted to you, Mrs. Thrale."
+
+"Then if you would wish to pay off the debt, you can do so by informing
+me of your success in discovering the writer. 'Tis quite impossible to
+conceive of the man's remaining unrevealed for any length of time, and I
+confess that I am anxious to know if he is among my acquaintance."
+
+"You assume the sex, madam."
+
+"What, have you a doubt of it?"
+
+"There are so many literary ladies nowadays, Mrs. Thrale."
+
+"But you surely saw the handwriting of the script?"
+
+"That is just the point. My printers have examined it and say that it
+is a lady's caligraphy only disguised to look like a man's. In my own
+judgment they are right. It is an upright hand, neat and clear--not in
+the least like that of an author. Still, that counts but little, seeing
+that the writer of the book would be pretty certain to have a clear copy
+made of his script by someone else. I have had a suspicion, from the
+mystery insisted on by this Mr. Grafton, that he is none other than the
+author of the 'Castle of Otranto.'"
+
+"What, Mr. Walpole?"
+
+"Even so. You recollect how delighted he was to conceal the hand he had
+in that book--going much farther than I thought any gentleman would in
+honour go, to make people believe it was what it pretended to be?"
+
+"Mr. Lowndes, I know not what your experience has been; but mine is
+that when a gentleman becomes an author he lays aside whatever sense of
+honour he possesses as a gentleman."
+
+"I have had little to do with gentlemen authors, madam. Most of my
+writers are simply authors."
+
+"And Mr. Walpole very properly put himself in line with them, and so had
+no hesitation in carrying out his fraud in 'Otranto.' Well, if it be so,
+you may count on his revealing himself now that the book has become a
+success. In any case, you will not forget to keep me informed, and I
+shall esteem it a favour, Mr. Lowndes."
+
+Mr. Lowndes renewed his promise and bowed the lady to the door. The
+three volumes of "Evelina" had been brought out to the chariot by one
+of the footmen, a second following in his footsteps to see that he
+deposited them fairly upon one of the cushions, and a third standing by
+the open door in case of the breakdown of either of the others.
+
+Mrs. Thrale got into the splendid machine, the three lackeys swung
+themselves up on their platform behind, and clung on to the heavy
+straps, looking, in their brilliant livery, as the chariot lurched away
+over the uneven cobble-stones, like mighty butterflies of a tropical
+forest swaying together on the rim of a gigantic flower.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+|NO chance had Rauzzini of saying more than the most conventional words
+of farewell to Fanny. Mrs. Burney was beside her and her two sisters
+also. He yielded to his impulse to pronounce a malediction on Mrs.
+Thrale, who had so interrupted his conversation with Fanny--the last he
+could possibly have until his return from France after fulfilling his
+engagements. But this was when he had seen the Burney family out of
+the door of the house in Leicester Fields and to the entrance to St.
+Martin's Street. He was then alone, and could give in some measure
+expression to his feelings in his own tongue.
+
+His imagination was quite vivid enough to suggest to him all that the
+officiousness of Mrs. Thrale had interrupted--the exchange of vows--the
+whispered assurances of fidelity--perhaps a passionate kiss--a
+heaven-sent chance during a marvellous minute when the painting-room
+should be emptied of all but herself and him! It was distracting to
+think of all that had been cut out of his life by that busybody. While
+he had been talking alone with Fanny his eyes had taken in the splendid
+possibilities of the painting-room. There were three immense easels on
+different parts of the floor, and each carried a glorious canvas for
+a life-size portrait. Two of them were already finished, and the third
+contained a portion of the Greek altar at which a fair lady was to be
+depicted making her oblation to Aphrodite, or perhaps Artemis. The young
+man, however, did not give a thought to the glowing work of the great
+painter on the canvases, he thought only of the possibilities of a
+moment or two spent in the protecting shadow of one of them with that
+gentle, loving girl yielding herself to his clasp--only for a moment--he
+could not reasonably hope that it should be for longer than a single
+moment, but what raptures might not be embraced even within that brief
+space! A moment--one immortal moment worth years of life! That was
+what he saw awaiting him in the friendly shade of one of Sir Joshua's
+portraits--that was all that the sublime picture meant to the ardent
+lover--it was not the immortal picture, but the immortal moment that was
+before his eyes--but just when, by a little manoeuvring on his part, the
+joy that should change all his life and console him for being deprived
+of the society of his beloved for three months, was within his reach,
+that foolish woman had come bustling up with her chatter and had
+separated them!
+
+For which he now implored heaven and a heathen deity or two that still
+linger in the language of malediction in their native Italy, to send
+her soul to the region where Orpheus had sought his Eurydice. Down--down
+with her to the lowest depths of the Inferno he implored his patrons to
+bear her and to keep her there for ever.
+
+His imploration was quite as lyrical as his "Waft her, Angels, to the
+Skies," only its bearing was upon the fate of the lady in just the
+opposite direction, and he was even more fervent in its delivery. But
+having delivered it, he felt some of that relief which is experienced
+by a true artist who has a consciousness of having done some measure of
+justice to his theme. He felt that if beatitude had been denied to him,
+the one who had separated him from it would not escape scathless, if the
+intensity of an appeal to the high gods of his native land counted for
+anything in their estimation.
+
+And then he went more or less contentedly to his lodgings to prepare for
+his appearance in the opera of the night.
+
+He sang divinely as an angel, and again if any of his audience remained
+unmoved by the enchantment of his voice, they certainly could not but
+have yielded to the charm of his presence. Some women might be incapable
+of appreciating the exquisite character of his vocalism, but none could
+remain impervious to the appeal of his smile.
+
+As for the girl who alone had appealed to his heart, she went home with
+her mother and sisters without a word, for she had not perceived the
+glorious possibilities lurking behind the grand canvases in Sir Joshua's
+painting-room. She could even bring herself to believe that the coming
+of Mrs. Thrale had been rather opportune than otherwise; for if she had
+not joined her stepmother at that time she would not have heard all that
+Sir Joshua had said about "Evelina."
+
+All that she had heard had made her supremely happy, not, she thought,
+because she was greedy for fame, but because it meant to her that she
+was a step nearer to the arms of the man she loved. The fame which Sir
+Joshua's words implied was dear to her because she knew that she need
+not now hesitate to seat herself by the side of this king of men, as his
+equal--no, not quite as his equal, but certainly not as a beggar maid.
+She knew that when it was announced that she was the writer of a great
+book, or, what was better still, a book that everybody was talking
+about, people would not shrug their shoulders when they heard that
+Rauzzini> the Roman singer, whose name was in everybody's mouth, was
+about to marry her. The event that she scarcely dared hope for had
+actually happened: she was no longer the nobody which she had been, she
+was a woman the product of whose brain had been acclaimed by the best
+judges, and so the barrier that she had seen separating her lover from
+herself had been thrown down. The same voices that had acclaimed her
+Rauzzini as a singer had acclaimed her as a writer; for though she had
+hesitated to receive her cousin Edward's reports from the libraries as
+conclusive of the mark that the book was making, she could not now
+have any doubt on the subject: a book that was spoken of by Sir Joshua
+Reynolds as he had spoken of "Evelina" must be granted a place high
+above the usual volumes to be found on the shelves of a circulating
+library. She was convinced that in a short time everyone would be
+talking about it in the same strain, and though people might be
+incredible on the subject of its authorship, the fact would remain the
+same--she had written the book, and the fame that attached to the writer
+would assuredly be hers. There would now be no sneering references to
+King Cophetua. Everyone within their circle would admit that there
+was no disparity between her position as the writer of the book that
+everyone was talking about and that of the singer whom people crowded to
+hear.
+
+She felt supremely happy. Though Mrs. Burney had not shown any
+particular wish to repeat what Reynolds had said to her about the
+book, she knew perfectly well that this was only because of her general
+distrust of anything in the form of a novel, and her fear lest something
+unreadable should get into the hands of the girls. But Fanny also knew
+that the fact of Mrs. Burney's shunning the novels of the circulating
+libraries would not interfere with the reputation that must accrue to
+the author of "Evelina"; so she was not affected by the indifference
+shown by her stepmother to all that Reynolds had said. She awaited
+without impatience the day when her father should take up the book and
+read the Ode at the beginning. She felt that, although his name was not
+at the head, he would know that the verses were addressed to him, and
+that it was his daughter Fanny who had written them. She knew that
+however firmly he might assert himself on the side of his wife in
+preventing the entrance to the house of all novels excepting those of
+Richardson--Fanny herself had never had a chance of reading even
+"The Vicar of Wakefield"--he would be proud of her as the writer of
+"Evelina." She was not quite sure if he would be as proud of her as if
+she had developed a wonderful musical capacity; but she never doubted
+that his affection for her--assisted by his knowledge of the impression
+the book had made upon the most important of his own associates--would
+cause him to take her into his arms with delight and to forgive her
+for running the chance of being classed among the Miss Minifies of the
+period--the female writers whose ridiculous productions were hidden
+beneath the sofa cushions in so many households. Fanny Burney was a
+dutiful daughter and she had nothing of the cynic about her, but she was
+well aware of the fact that success would be regarded by her father as
+justifying an experiment that failure would have made discreditable.
+
+Once more, then, the three sisters met that night in Fanny's bedroom.
+The two younger could now look on her without their feeling of awe. They
+were on the verge of being indignant with Mrs. Burney for having made no
+reference whatever since returning from the Reynoldses to the subject of
+Sir Joshua's eulogy.
+
+"Not once did she mention the name of 'Evelina' to the padre; Sir
+Joshua might just as well have talked of Miss Herschel's comet to her,"
+said Susy.
+
+"And after our schooling ourselves so rigidly to give no sign that we
+were in any measure connected with the book too--it was cruel!" said
+Lottie.
+
+"It was not as if the padre did not give her a good chance more than
+once," continued Susy. "Did he not ask if anyone had given her any news?
+And what did she answer?--Why, only that someone had said that Mr. Fox
+had lost a fortune a few nights ago at faro! As if anybody cares about
+Mr. Fox! I was prepared for her opening out at once to him about the
+book--maybe begging him to send Williams to buy it at Mr. Lowndes'."
+
+"What, at seven-and-sixpence!" cried Fanny. "My dear child, do you know
+mamma no better than to fancy that?"
+
+"What I don't know is how she resisted it," said Lottie. "Oh, you heard
+how Sir Joshua talked about it; and Miss Reynolds too--she praised it up
+to the skies."
+
+"Other people in the painting-room as well as in the drawing-room were
+talking of it," said Susy. "I heard the beautiful Miss Horneck speak
+of it to the lady with the big muff and the rose taffeta with the
+forget-me-not embroidery."
+
+"I am sure that everybody was speaking of it--I could hear the name
+'Evelina' buzzing round the rooms," cried Lottie.
+
+"Yes; everyone was talking about it, and only mamma was silent--_is_
+silent. I don't think that at all fair," continued Susy.
+
+Fanny laughed.
+
+"You are silly little geese," she cried. "Could you not see that she
+would not mention it lest it should reach our ears and we should be
+filled with an _irresistible_ desire to possess it--_it_--a modern
+novel! Think of it! Oh, my dears, you are too unreasonable, Mamma knows
+her duty too well to allow even the name of a novel to pass her lips
+and maybe reach the ears of such a group of fly-away young things as
+ourselves! She understands the extent of her responsibilities. Go to
+your beds and be thankful that you have so excellent a guardian."
+
+"But when we were prepared----" began one of them, when Fanny
+interrupted her.
+
+"You may conserve your preparations--you will hear her say the name soon
+enough--you may depend upon that," she said. "You may prepare to hear
+yourselves summoned into her presence to give a full and true account
+of your complicity in the thing which was perpetrated under this sacred
+roof--nay, in the very room where the great philosopher Newton wrote his
+thesis! A novel written in the room in which the divine 'Principia'
+was produced! Why, 'twere as bad in mamma's eyes as acting one of Mr.
+Foote's farces in St. Paul's Cathedral. Oh, yes, you'll have to face her
+soon enough, and after that you'll never wish to hear the name Evelina
+again. Now, good-night, and thank heaven for your respite."
+
+They left her, glum and dissatisfied. It was plain to her that they were
+disappointed at not being given the opportunity of showing how admirably
+they had themselves under control in regard to the secret--of showing
+Fanny how they could hear Mrs. Burney talk at length about "Evelina,"
+while neither of them gave the least sign of ever having heard the name
+before. It was indeed disappointing that all their studied immobility
+should go for nothing.
+
+But Fanny knew that their secret could not possibly remain hidden for
+many more days. If the book was going into everybody's hands, her father
+would be certain to have it, and then--would he not know? Would not she
+be summoned into his presence and that of his wife--the lady of many
+responsibilities--and required to defend herself?...
+
+She fell asleep before she had come to any conclusion as to the line of
+defence that she should adopt.
+
+And in spite of the readiness of her sisters for any inquisition to
+which they might be summoned, they were startled--as was also Fanny
+herself--when, immediately after a rather silent and portentous
+breakfast, Mrs. Burney said:
+
+"Susy and Lottie, you may go to your duties. You, Fanny, will remain, as
+your father wishes to speak to you on a matter of some gravity."
+
+So the long-expected hour had come, the three girls thought. By some
+accident unknown to them their secret was exposed, and Fanny was about
+to be called upon to explain, if she could, to the satisfaction of
+her father and her stepmother, how it came that she so far forgot the
+precepts of her upbringing as to write a novel quite in the modern
+spirit, though adopting a form which the master-touch of Mr. Samuel
+Richardson had hallowed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+|THE two girls left the room slowly, after sending in the direction of
+Fanny a glance which they meant should encourage her--a glance which
+should let her know that they were quite ready to share her punishment,
+should the worst come to the worst.
+
+Fanny replied to them with her eyes; and then prepared for the worst.
+
+It quickly came.
+
+"My dear daughter," said Dr. Burney, when they were alone, Mrs. Burney
+in her chair at the head of the table. "My dear Fanny, I am no believer
+in leading by degrees up to such a communication as I have to make to
+you. I think that the sooner it is got over the better it will be
+for all whom it may concern. Well, this is it: Mr. Thomas Barlowe has
+written to me asking my permission for him to address you with a view to
+marriage."
+
+He made a pause, looking at her to observe the effect of this
+revelation.
+
+And what he saw at first was a girl with a pale face and downcast eyes,
+awaiting, almost breathlessly, an accusation from which she shrank; but
+when he had spoken he saw a great change come over her. Not immediately,
+but gradually. It seemed to him that she had not fully realized the
+meaning of his words--that she was puzzled--trying to recall what he had
+said. Then the light seemed to dawn upon her. She flushed, and, after
+a few moments, threw back her head and went into a peal of laughter--a
+real schoolgirl's fit of laughter at something amazingly comic--the
+tumbling of a clown into a pool of water with a splash, or, perhaps, the
+slipping of a dignified beadle upon a butter slide. Her laughter went
+on for a long time, but without in the least suggesting hysteria--it
+was simply a girl's natural laughter on realizing the comic side of a
+situation which grown-up people would regard as extremely serious.
+
+Neither her father nor his wife could understand why she should receive
+in such a spirit an essentially serious communication--the most serious
+that any young woman could receive. They had not before them the
+ludicrous picture that presented itself to her imagination--a picture of
+the Roman Rauzzini on the one side and the Poultry Barlowe on the other,
+asking her to choose between them. It was this presentment, coming in a
+flash the moment she realized that the publishing of the book was not
+the question which she had to face, that forced her to yield to that
+long fit of laughter.
+
+Her father and stepmother sat stolidly by, but she knew that had she and
+her father been alone, he would at least have smiled with her.
+
+In a few minutes she had recovered herself sufficiently to be able to
+apologize for her levity.
+
+"I beg your pardon," she said. "I am behaving like a goose, but I could
+not help it--something forced me--something that occurred to me--a funny
+thing. I am very sorry."
+
+"There is nothing funny that I can see in the honourable request made by
+an honest young man, my dear Fanny," said Mrs. Burney.
+
+"No, no; nothing whatever; only--well, funny ideas will occur to foolish
+people like myself at the most serious moments," said Fanny.
+
+"That is quite true, indeed," said her father. "I have myself
+experienced what you say. Perhaps, after all, I should not have blurted
+out what I had to tell you--it came to you as a surprise, I doubt not."
+
+"A great surprise, indeed," she replied. "I cannot understand how Mr.
+Barlowe could ever fancy that I--that he--that--oh, I should have known
+what that terrible entertainment was meant to lead to--but when, in that
+clumsily marked way I was sent into the drawing-room with him alone, he
+began to talk of his uncle, the Aider-man--he said that the Alderman was
+quite approachable even in regard to ordinary people like ourselves--and
+then came his cousins--all of them remarkable! But you should have seen
+him slice away at the ham--the biggest ham I ever saw--it needed to
+be--such eating!"
+
+"The recollection of that no doubt made you laugh," said Dr. Burney.
+"But, at the same time, you must remember that though the customs of
+the Poultry are not ours, still, they may be very reasonable
+customs--perhaps more reasonable than our own. It may suit us to dine as
+late as halfpast four and only to have a slice of cake with our tea; but
+business people find it more convenient to dine at one o'clock--it makes
+an equal division of their long working-day--so that a slice of ham----"
+
+"I know that is quite true, and I was not so foolish as to give myself
+airs because I had dined at half-past four and had no appetite for ham,"
+said Fanny; "but--oh, mother, you saw how foolishly formal was the whole
+thing."
+
+"I said that I thought it quite unnecessarily formal," replied Mrs.
+Burney, "and if I had had any notion that it was going to be like that
+I would certainly have given Mrs. Barlowe a hint. Still, Thomas is, I
+know, an excellent young man who has never given his parents an
+hour's uneasiness, and his intentions are honourable, and so should be
+honoured. If you have no tender regard for him at present that is no
+reason why, when you get accustomed to the thought of him as a suitor
+for your hand----"
+
+"Oh, mother, that is quite impossible!" cried Fanny. "How could I ever
+get accustomed to such a thought?"
+
+"I do not know why you should not," replied Mrs. Burney. "He is a most
+worthy young man, and Mr. Barlowe's business is one of the best in
+the City. You must remember, my dear Fanny, that in these days a girl,
+unless she has a portion, runs a very great chance of becoming an old
+maid, so that no opportunity of settling down in a comfortable home
+should be neglected."
+
+"That is perfectly true," said Dr. Burney. "You will understand that we
+have no desire to force this or any match upon you, my dear child: so
+long as I have a house over my head you shall share it. But I am sure
+that you must know that I am a poor man to-day, although I have worked
+as hard at my profession as any living man, and I cannot provide you or
+your sisters with any portion. Heaven knows that if I had a fortune I
+would gladly divide it among you; but as it is, I think it right to tell
+you that you need expect nothing."
+
+"Dearest father," said Fanny, dissolving into tears, as she took his
+hand and kissed it, "I have never expected a fortune from you--not a
+penny piece. I know that I shall be portionless, and I daresay that Mr.
+Barlowe thinks himself generous in his proposal; but I could never bring
+myself to accept him--to look on him as a suitor. It would be quite
+impossible. If I thought it possible that I should ever have any
+affection for him, I might feel myself justified in encouraging him; but
+I know that it would be out of the question. I would prefer to go forth
+and beg my bread--nay, to starve."
+
+"Then we shall pursue the matter no farther for the present," said her
+father, kissing her on the forehead as she nestled close to him.
+
+"Yes, that is best--for the present," acquiesced his wife. "Still, if
+you will be advised by me, my dear Fanny, you will remember that Mr.
+Barlowe is ready to address you knowing that you will be portionless,
+and if you bear that in mind, perhaps you will be surprised to find
+some' day, not so far distant, that the thought of him is not so
+repugnant to you. You are no longer a girl, and when one is midway
+between twenty and thirty every extra year counts in reducing one's
+chances of being settled in life. I could cite dozens of instances that
+I have known of young women being glad to accept at twenty-eight the
+suitors they scorned at twenty or even twenty-five. Oh, yes, the years
+come upon one and bring with them a clearer vision of life and love;
+frequently they bring regret for opportunities neglected. But we will
+not press the matter any farther--just now. I dare say the young man
+will submit to be put off--for a time."
+
+"Nay, for ever," said Fanny resolutely.
+
+"Oh, well," said her stepmother.
+
+After a pause, during which Fanny seemed to be debating some matter
+in her mind, a little line showing itself along her forehead, she said
+slowly: "I do not think that I shall be a burden on you, dear father; I
+believe that one day I may be able to do something."
+
+"Do not fancy that I would ever think of you as a burden, my dear
+child," said her father. "But what do you mean by saying that you may
+one day do something?--some work, do you suggest?"
+
+"Something--I am fond of writing," she murmured.
+
+He laughed gently, saying:
+
+"You are a very good girl, my love, and I know how much I am indebted to
+you for your admirable copying of my notes for the History; but do not
+let the idea take hold of you that such work is well paid. If you ever
+get in touch with a bookseller, he will tell you that the work of a
+copyist is very poorly paid."
+
+"I was not thinking of copying," murmured Fanny.
+
+"Of what then, pray?" he asked.
+
+"If I could but write a book," she replied, with her eyes on the floor.
+
+"A book!" cried Mrs. Burney, who thought that she had been silent long
+enough. "A book!"
+
+"To be sure--to be sure," said her father, in the indulgent tone of a
+parent humouring a child. "You might write a book--so might anyone who
+could pay for a ream of paper, a bottle of ink and a box of quills.
+You should speak to Mr. Newbery about it: he has printed many nursery
+stories since 'Goody Two Shoes.' You might indeed do something that the
+children would take a fancy to. Well, Francis Newbery is as honest a man
+as his uncle, and we may talk to him about it. By the by, did not you
+once tell me that you had written something, or that you were going to
+write something? You thought it proper to get my leave. I had forgotten
+that. Well, if it be a moral nursery story, we might interest Mr.
+Newbery in it."
+
+"I do not think that it is quite wise to encourage a girl to neglect
+her useful household duties in order to compile some rubbish that no one
+would read," said Mrs. Burney.
+
+"Of course you will understand that you are not to neglect your
+household duties, Fanny," said her father.
+
+"If she performs her household duties and sticks to her needlework,
+she will have no time left for scribbling rubbish," cried Mrs. Burney,
+hastily.
+
+"She made a bonfire of all that childish nonsense long ago, and I hope
+that she will never be so foolish as to waste good paper and pens and,
+most precious of all, good time, over such exercises. That is all we
+have to say just now, I think--is it not, Doctor? I shall reply to Mr.
+Barlowe's letter--a most creditable letter--straightforward--honourable!
+I am only sorry that I cannot make the reply to it that it deserves."
+
+She had opened the door and called for William, their manservant, to
+remove the breakfast things. Fanny lingered for a few minutes after she
+had risen from her chair. She had assumed from the moment she had begun
+to speak of writing, that her opportunity had come; if her stepmother
+had not interposed so hastily and so emphatically, she would have made
+her confession as to "Evelina,", let the consequences be what they
+might; but now that the servant had come with his tray and her
+stepmother jingled her key-basket, she perceived that her chance was
+gone. She had a sense of sneaking out of the room.
+
+As she went slowly up the stairs she could hear the voice of her
+stepmother remonstrating with her father for having said something that
+she, Fanny, might regard as encouragement to waste her precious time in
+the pursuit of such folly as writing a book.
+
+She heard her father's little laugh as he explained (she was sure) that
+of course he had not been speaking seriously; but that he had not the
+heart to be severe upon her and her harmless scribbling.
+
+The author of "Evelina" went very slowly upstairs, and when she reached
+the work-room landing she found Susy and Lottie waiting for her, glowing
+with excitement. Susy was waving over her head what seemed to be a bulky
+pamphlet. Coming closer, Fanny saw that it was the chief of the literary
+reviews, which had apparently just arrived at the house.
+
+"A splendid column about 'Evelina,'" she whispered. "Not so good as
+it should be, but still splendid. Here it is. But why are you so glum?
+Surely they did not scold you now that the book is so great a success."
+
+"They did not ask me to tarry in the room to charge me with
+double-dealing in regard to the book," said Fanny. "They would not allow
+me to make my confession when I had the opportunity--the best that I
+shall ever have. 'Twas not my confession that was on the _tapis_, but
+quite another. That is why I look glum."
+
+"Another--another confession? But what had either of them to confess?"
+cried Lottie.
+
+"Nothing. They didn't confess."
+
+"But whose confession was it, then, if not theirs?" asked Lottie.
+
+"It was young Mr. Barlowe's," said Fanny, with a lugubriousness that was
+quite comic. "Young Mr. Barlowe wrote to the padre to confess that
+he was passionately--madly--in love with me, and threatening to drown
+himself unless permission were given to him to address me--we all know
+how fervently young Mr. Barlowe would put his case--that was what I was
+summoned to listen to--the fiery letter--only it was too ardent for my
+ears: I was only told its purport."
+
+"But who would ever have thought that he had it in him?" cried Susy.
+"Such impudence! I never dreamt that he could rise to such a height of
+impudence or I should have thought better of him."
+
+"'Tis not too late yet, my child," said Fanny. "You are at liberty to
+think as highly of Thomas as you please--or as it would please him.
+Please take over his blighted affections and it will be a weight off
+my mind. Now give me a chance of reading my splendid review--not that
+I care in the least what these foolish critics may say of me--I care
+nothing, I tell you, only if you do not let me see it at once I shall
+die at your feet."
+
+"There it is," said Susy, "a full column! The idea of anyone written
+of in such terms being proposed to by Thomas Barlowe! Such impudence
+indeed!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+|THE levity shown by Fanny Burney and the flippancy of her phrases did
+not wholly conceal from her sisters all that she was feeling on the
+subject of the proposal to which she had referred with such lightness.
+She knew that while her father and her stepmother would not treat her
+with any marked disfavour on account of her rejection of the worthy
+young man who was ready to offer her a home, still Mrs. Burney at least
+regarded with great disfavour the nature of the answer which she had
+to send to the Poultry, and Fanny was very well aware of the ease with
+which so conscientious a guardian as Mrs. Burney could make her feel
+every day of her life what was Mrs. Burney's opinion of her rejection of
+an eligible young man.
+
+Fanny recognized the great merits of her stepmother, and she could look
+from her standpoint at most of the incidents of their daily life. In
+that household one mouth less to feed was worth consideration--the
+number of mouths to feed was a constant source of thought with Mrs.
+Burney, as was also the question of a provision for the future of all of
+them.
+
+Mrs. Burney would be fully justified in feeling cross with her, not
+being aware of the fact that another young man, compared with whom
+Thomas Barlowe was as the dust of the ground, was burning, with an
+ardour of which Thomas was incapable, to take her to himself and provide
+for her in a style undreamt of in the Poultry.
+
+But the worst of the matter was that she could not let her stepmother
+into this secret. She could not say that she was engaged to marry Signor
+Rauzzini, and she might leave herself open to the gravest rebuke for
+having listened to his protestations of devotion without obtaining the
+consent of either of her parents.
+
+And through all this tangle of reflections there ran the silken thread
+of consciousness that she was no longer the Fanny Burney who was
+regarded by her stepmother as the dunce, but Fanny Burney the writer of
+"Evelina," to whom the most critical review had devoted a full column of
+adulation!
+
+That was what made her position so anomalous; and it was because she
+took the happenings of the previous days to heart that she went to bed
+with a shocking headache, and after a sleepless night was found on the
+verge of a fever. She was suffering from suppressed secrets; but the
+doctor did not know this. He prescribed James's Powders; and when these
+should have done all that they were meant to do--a small part of all
+that Dr. James and Mr. Newbery affirmed they would do--a change into the
+country.
+
+But several weeks had passed before she was strong enough to start on
+the latter and most essential portion of the prescription, and found
+herself in her own room in Mr. Crisp's isolated house at Chessington.
+
+Meantime, of course, she had no further news of the book, and she
+remained unconfessed, so far as the secret of its publication was
+concerned. Her sisters did not so much as mention its name or the name
+of Thomas Barlowe, so cleverly had they diagnosed the nature of her
+malady and so tactfully did they try to hasten her recovery.
+
+Her old friend Mr. Crisp had been her guide since her childhood. She
+always alluded to him as her second Daddy--so far as paternal influence
+was concerned she might have given him the foremost place. He it was who
+had led her on to embody in letters to him the daily incidents of
+her life, thus unconsciously setting the loom, as it were, in which
+"Evelina" was to be woven. He it was who became her teacher and her
+critic, and it was possibly because she feared his criticism of her work
+that she refrained from making a confidant of him from the first. She
+felt that she could face the public and the reviewers--it did not matter
+how they might receive the book, but she was too timid to submit it to
+the mature judgment of the man who had first put a pen in her hand. It
+was not on her own account that she refrained from giving him a chance
+of reading her book, but on his: she knew how hurt he would be if he
+found her book to be an indifferent one, and whether indifferent or not,
+how angry he would be if people did not buy it by the thousand.
+
+Now, however, that she found herself alone with him, she made up her
+mind to tell him all about it. She would choose her own time for doing
+this; but it would certainly be done before she returned to St. Martin's
+Street.
+
+But on the second day after her arrival at Ches-sington a parcel came
+for her, addressed by Susy. On opening it, she found it to contain two
+volumes of "Evelina." The letter that was enclosed told her that Cousin
+Edward had called at the Orange Coffee House and found that a set
+had been left there at the instance of Mr. Lowndes, addressed to Mr.
+Grafton. Of these, Lottie had read the first two, which were now sent on
+to the author, but the third she had not finished, and hoped that Fanny
+would not mind her detaining it for a few days longer.
+
+This was really the first glimpse that the author had of her book in its
+binding. She had, in the name of Mr. Grafton, requested Mr. Lowndes
+to send a set of the volumes to the Orange Coffee House. But that was
+nearly three months ago, and until now Mr. Lowndes appeared not to have
+thought it worth his while to comply with the request. Now, however, it
+seemed to have occurred to him that the author of a book that everyone
+was talking about might be worth conciliating, and so he had directed a
+set of volumes to the Coffee House.
+
+At once Fanny made up her mind that she would pave the way, so to speak,
+for a full confession to Mr. Crisp.
+
+"Susy has sent me on two volumes of a new novel, lest I should feel
+dull," she said. "As if I am not much more likely to feel dull in the
+company of a new novel than of my old Daddy!"
+
+"I thought that your stepmother prohibited the reading of novels, new or
+old, in your house," said he.
+
+"Perhaps mamma did not know anything about this particular one," replied
+Fanny; "besides, it is to be read in your house, not ours."
+
+"So that the responsibility will be mine?" said he. "Mrs. Burney is
+only answerable to heaven for keeping your mind free from the baleful
+influence of novels, but I am in a worse case, for I am answerable to
+Mrs. Burney. And what is the name of the precious production?"
+
+"Let me see," said Fanny, artfully referring to the title page. "Oh,
+yes: 'Evelina; or, a Young Lady's Entrance into the World.' Do you call
+that an alluring title?"
+
+"Too sentimental by half," he replied. "But I have heard of the thing,
+and one of the reviews dealt with it some weeks ago."
+
+"Praise or blame?"
+
+"Oh, foolish adulation for the great part; but not without a reasonable
+word here and there."
+
+"The reasonable part you are sure must be the censorious? That is not
+fair to the poor author."
+
+"Poor author? Yes, they are all poor authors nowadays. What's the name
+of this particular item of poverty?"
+
+"There is no name on the title page; but I hear that the writer was Mr.
+Anstey himself."
+
+"What! another 'Bath Guide'!"
+
+"Sir Joshua Reynolds told mamma that he had remained up all night
+reading it."
+
+"Poor Sir Joshua! His eyes are none too good at the best! And does Susy
+believe that the book which kept Sir Joshua awake is the best one to
+send you asleep? You came to Chessington, you know, to get as much as
+possible; 'Tired Nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep!' the truest words
+that Shakespeare ever writ."
+
+"What I propose to do is to try it upon you, my dear sir. I mean to give
+you a dose of it this evening, instead of gruel, and if it makes you
+sleep I will know that I may continue it for myself--it will be more
+wholesome than poppy or mandragora."
+
+"Good! But I dare swear that it will be bad enough to keep me awake. You
+know that extremes meet in the case of books, as well as other matters;
+one keeps awake reading a good book, in expectancy of its undeveloped
+goodness; and reading a bad one, wondering how far the author can
+actually go in point of dullness."
+
+"I have often thought that; but Susy has sent only two of the three
+volumes."
+
+"So that we shall not be able to fathom the full depth of the author's
+dullness? We should be grateful to Susy--so should the author. Well, you
+shall begin after tea, while there is yet daylight: _Le livre ne vaut
+pas la chandelle._"
+
+"_Nous verrons_," cried Fanny.
+
+And she started reading the book that same day, an hour before sunset.
+The room in which they sat was a small one with a window facing the west
+and overlooking a long stretch of billowy common. The spicy scent of
+the wallflowers in the little garden patch at the side of the house was
+wafted through the half-open lattice, and occasionally there came the
+sound of the ducks gabbling at the pool beyond the gate that shut off
+the house from the lane. It was a cloudless evening, and the sunset
+promised to be peach-like in its tender tints of pink and saffron with
+the curves of delicate green in the higher sky. Fanny sat at the window
+and the old man reclined at his ease upon the sofa.
+
+"I am giving myself every chance," he said. "All that I ask of you, my
+Fannikin, is that you do not glance at me every now and again to see
+if I am still awake. If you do so, I shall never yield to so much as a
+doze."
+
+"I promise faithfully to await your signal that you are alert," said
+she.
+
+And so began one of the most delightful hours of her life.
+
+She was not a particularly good reader aloud when a book was casually
+put into her hands, but here she had before her a volume that she could
+almost have repeated verbatim, so that she soon found that she was just
+too fluent: she felt that if she went on at this rate his critical ear
+would tell him that she had every page by heart, and he would ask her
+for an explanation of so singular a thing as her being able to repeat
+so much of a book which she professed to have in her hands for the first
+time. She put a check upon her fluency, and though she did not go so
+far as to simulate stumbling over certain words, she neglected the
+punctuation now and again, and then went back upon some of the passages,
+causing him to give a little grumble and say:
+
+"Be careful, my dear; there's no need for haste: the evening is still
+young."
+
+After that she was more careful--which is the same as saying she was
+more careless of adhering to the scheme she had adopted. She felt that
+as he had now been put off the scent, she might run along as she pleased
+without there being a chance of his suspecting anything through her
+showing herself familiar with passage after passage.
+
+Before she had got through more than a dozen pages she heard a creaking
+of the sofa--she trusted herself to glance in that direction and
+found that he was no longer reclining: he was sitting up and listening
+attentively. She continued reading without making a remark for a full
+hour. The sun had set, but the twilight was clear enough to allow of her
+seeing the print on the page before her for some time still; then the
+darkness seemed to fall all at once, and she laid the book down when she
+had come to the close of one of the letters.
+
+"Candles," he said. "Candles! Upon my word, the world is right for once:
+the stuff is good. We must have candles. Candles, I say!"
+
+"Supper, say I," cried Fanny. "I feel that I have need of bodily
+refreshment after such a task. Does it sound real to you, Daddy
+Crisp--all about the Young Lady who is about to enter the world?"
+
+"Not merely does it sound real, it is real--it is reality," he replied
+quickly. "The man who wrote what you have read has something of the
+genius of--of--now whom does he resemble, think you?--Richardson here
+and there, and in places, Fielding, it seems to me."
+
+"You suppose that 'tis written by a man?" she said.
+
+"Why, of course, 'tis the work of a man," he replied. "Where is the
+woman living that is capable of writing a single page of that book?
+What, have I gone to so much trouble in training you to understand
+what is bad and what is good in writing, to so little purpose, that you
+should have a doubt as to the sex of what you have just read?"
+
+"The sex of a book--a novel?"
+
+"Why not? There are masculine books and there is feminine--trash. There
+you have the difference."
+
+"And you do not consider this to be--trash?"
+
+"Will you get the candles, Miss Burney? It seems that you are sorely in
+need of illumination if you put that question to me seriously. Trash?
+Madam, you perceive that I am all eagerness to hear the rest of the
+story, and yet you put that silly question to me! Look you here, you
+rogue, cannot you see that the very fact of your putting such a question
+to me shows that the book is the work of a man? When a carefully trained
+woman such as you cannot yet discriminate between the good and the trash
+that is written, how would it be possible for a woman to write what you
+have read?"
+
+"You think there is nothing womanly in the book?"
+
+"There is nothing effeminate in the writing, so much is sure. There is
+plenty that is womanly in the book, because the man who wrote it knows
+how to convey to a reader a sense of womanliness to be in keeping with
+the character of the letters--that is what is meant by genius. A woman
+trying to produce the same effect would show the frill of her petticoat
+on every page. She would make the men's parts in the book as feminine as
+the women's. Now, no more chatter an you please, but get the candles."
+
+"And Mrs. Hamilton will get our supper by their light."
+
+Fanny tripped away, and was behind the door of the larder before she
+allowed the laughter which was pent up very close to her eyes to have
+its freedom. It was a very hearty laugh that she had, for there was a
+constant buzzing in her ears of the question:
+
+"What will he say when he learns the truth?"
+
+She was ready to dance her Nancy Dawson in delight at seeing the effect
+of the book upon the old man whom she loved--the man who was directly
+responsible for its existence. If Mr. Crisp had not taken trouble with
+her, encouraging her to write her letters to him in a natural style, the
+correspondence in "Evelina" would, she knew, be very different from what
+it was. So, after all, she reflected, he was right in pronouncing the
+book the work of a man; but he had no idea that he was the man who was
+responsible for it. That reflection of hers was as fully imbued with the
+true spirit of comedy as her anticipation of the effect that would be
+produced upon him by the revelation of the authorship.
+
+And that was why this young student of the human comedy was able to
+restrain herself from making the revelation to him at once: she had, as
+it were, a delicate palate for comedy, and it was a delight to her--the
+gratification of her natural vanity had nothing to do with it--to lead
+him on to commit himself more deeply every moment on the question of the
+sex of the writer. Oh, no; she had no idea of making any confession to
+him for the present. She would have many another chat with him before
+the moment for that _d�nouement_ in the comedy should arrive.
+
+So she got the candles and the housekeeper laid the cold chicken and the
+plates on the supper-table, and Mr. Crisp set about mixing the salad in
+the manner he had acquired in Italy. And all the time they were engaged
+over the simple meal he was criticising what she had read, and he had
+scarcely a word to say about it that was not favourable. But he took
+care to protect himself in case he should be forced to retire from the
+position he had taken up.
+
+"A man is a fool to pronounce an opinion on a book before he has had
+the last page read to him," he said. "I have only been touching upon the
+part that I have heard, and I say that it seems to me to be as good
+as anything I have read for years; but that is not saying that the
+remainder, or some portions of the remainder, may not be so greatly
+inferior as to compel me to pronounce unfavourably of the book as a
+whole. I have had instances of such inequality shown by many writers,
+and it may be that the writer of 'Evelina' will be added to the list,
+although he shows no sign of falling off up to your last page. Do not be
+hurried by me, my dear, but if you have indeed made up your mind to eat
+no cheese, Mrs. Hamilton can remove the _d�bris_, and unless you are
+tired, you will read me a few pages more."
+
+She read until midnight. The only pauses that she made were when he
+trimmed the wicks of the candles. He commended her fluency. She
+had never read better in his hearing, he said. She showed that she
+understood what she was reading; and that, after all, was the greatest
+praise that could be given to anyone. He did not suggest the likelihood
+that she was tired.
+
+There was the sound of the bleating of lambs occasionally borne from the
+meadows beyond the little stream--the sound of an owl that came nightly
+about the house from the barn of the farm a few hundred yards away--the
+sound of a large moth bumping against the glass of the casement through
+which the candle-light shone. There was nothing to interrupt her in her
+delightful task until the church clock struck the hour of midnight.
+
+"Not another line," she cried, jumping from her chair. "Poor Evelina!
+she will be the better for a sleep. When she awakens she may be able to
+see more clearly who are her true friends and who are not to be trusted.
+Good-night, dear Daddy; and receive my thanks for your attention."
+
+"Give me the volume," he said. "I usually awake before six, and so shall
+have a couple of hours of it before rising."
+
+"You will not get it from me, sir," she cried. "Captain Mervain knows
+the naval rule about drinking glass for glass, and let me tell you that
+the same rule holds in the matter of reading a book--chapter for chapter
+between us, sir; we shall finish as we have begun."
+
+She blew him a kiss and ran upstairs to escape his protests: he shouted
+them after her from the foot of the stairs.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI
+
+|THE next morning was a lovely one, and Fanny was feeding the ducks
+in the brook before eight o'clock. When she came into the house to
+breakfast she found Mr. Crisp in the porch.
+
+"You have given me a sleepless night," he said. "I lay awake
+endeavouring to determine for my own satisfaction what would be the
+outcome of the girl's meeting that dreadful Branghton family. I worked
+out the story to its proper conclusion--so I thought--on my left side;
+but when I turned on my right I found that I had been grossly astray in
+all my fancies; and forthwith I set to work to put myself right. After
+an hour or two I thought I had succeeded, but, lo! a turn on my back and
+I saw that, as I planned it, the story would never come to an end. So
+I kept on until the dawn. Then I fell asleep, but only to find myself
+surrounded by demons, in the form of Branghtons, and a master devil
+wearing the epaulets of a naval officer, and he made for me with a
+horrid leer and a cry of Mervain! I awoke in a worse state than did the
+Duke of Clarence in the play, and I have not slept since. Oh, that
+little mischief, Susy! Wherefore did she send hither that magic book to
+be my undoing?"
+
+"Ah, sir, never before did I perceive the evil of novel reading," she
+said. "I could not understand my mother's banning all such books, but
+now I see the wisdom of it. I now see how they tend to unsettle one.
+But it may not yet be too late to save you from the evil influence of
+'Evelina.' If I read no more of her story, you will soon forget her and
+all may be well."
+
+"You will read no more? Good! Carry out your threat and I will e'en take
+the coach to London and buy a full set at Mr. Newbery's."
+
+"At Mr. Newbery's? Ah, sir, that is a threat you could not carry out,
+however vindictive you might be."
+
+"And why not, prithee? Think you I would begrudge the seven or eight
+shillings it would cost?"
+
+"Nay, sir; but if you went to Mr. Newbery you would probably find
+yourself treated badly by him if you accused him of publishing the book.
+'Tis Mr. Lowndes who is the guilty person."
+
+"You will not put one to the humiliation of a journey to London all for
+a trumpery novel?"
+
+"Nay, not for a trumpery novel; but we were talking of 'Evelina.'"
+
+"I submit to the correction, my dear; and so now we are in perfect
+agreement, you will continue the story, if only to allay my sleepless
+speculations."
+
+"I wonder how it will sound when read in the morning? I fear that it
+will be as dull as a play would seem in the garish light of day."
+
+"Tell not that to me. There are novels of the morn as well as of
+the even, and I believe that the freshness of this one will be best
+appreciated in the brightness of such a morning as this. At any rate, we
+can but make a trial of it. If we find that it does not read well, you
+can lay it aside till the evening."
+
+Fanny was delighted to find that he was as interested in her book as
+Susy had been; and the noon came and found her beginning the second
+volume to him, sitting by his side in the sunlight that bathed the
+little garden, and his attention never flagged. Once or twice, however,
+he grumbled, but her ear assured her that his grumble was not a critical
+one; it was only meant to censure the behaviour of the rude Captain
+Mervain.
+
+They were still in the garden when, shortly after noon, a chaise was
+heard in the lane: it appeared to be on its way to the house.
+
+"What! as I live 'tis mamma and my sisters come to pay us a visit,"
+cried Fanny, seeing a handkerchief waved to her from the window.
+
+"They shall be made welcome, for I cannot doubt that they have brought
+the third volume with them," said Mr. Crisp, rising to receive his
+visitors.
+
+In this way the reading was interrupted, and indeed Fanny was rather
+glad of a respite. She had not risen from her chair since nine o'clock.
+A chance of stretching her limbs was very acceptable.
+
+Mrs. Burney and the girls had scarcely settled down to their cakes
+and sweet wine, after explaining that Dr. Burney had insisted on their
+taking this drive into the country, the day promised to be so fine, when
+Mr. Crisp turned to Susy, saying:
+
+"You wicked girl! What did you mean by sending us the two volumes of
+that vile novel to upset us poor country folk? And I hope you have not
+neglected to bring with you the third." Poor Susy reddened and glanced
+at Fanny without trying to make any reply.
+
+"Eh, what is this?" cried the old man. "Do you mean to disclaim all
+responsibility for the act? Ah, 'tis too late for you to make such an
+attempt. The evil has been done. The poison has begun to work in our
+blood; and its effects can only be neutralized by the contents of the
+third volume. Say at once, I pray, if you have brought it."
+
+"Do not trouble poor Susy with your tropes, sir," said Fanny. "She
+cannot grasp your meaning, and only trusts that we have not gone mad. I
+suppose the road was as usual--half of it muddy and the rest dusty?"
+
+"I insist on hearing if the third volume is in the chaise," said Mr.
+Crisp, firmly. "If it be not, then you may drive straight back to St.
+Martin's Street and return hither with it in time for Fannikin to read
+it to-night."
+
+"Pray what book is it that you refer to, Mr. Crisp?" inquired Mrs.
+Burney.
+
+"What book, madam! As if there were more books than one printed this
+year! Why, Mrs. Burney, where have you been living all this time, that
+you have never heard of 'Evelina '?" cried he.
+
+"I have heard of little else save this 'Evelina' for some time past;
+but I have no time for reading novels, nor has any member of my family,"
+replied the lady.
+
+"I insisted on one member of your family finding the time yesterday
+and to-day, and the consequence is that she has gone through the first
+volume and part of the second since Susy was so obliging as to send
+them hither. I was in hopes that you had brought the third volume; but I
+perceive that we shall have to wait for it now."
+
+Susy was examining very closely the pattern on her plate when Mrs.
+Burney turned to her, saying:
+
+"Does Mr. Crisp mean that you got that novel and sent it hither to
+Fanny?"
+
+"Only part of it--no more than two volumes," said Susy quickly, as
+though anxious to submit extenuating circumstances to the notice of her
+stepmother.
+
+"Did you get it at Hill's library, or where?" inquired Mrs. Burney.
+
+"I did not get it at a library," replied Susy slowly, as a reluctant
+witness might answer an incriminating question.
+
+"What, did you buy it? Did you spend your money on it?" cried Mrs.
+Burney, with a note of amazement not free from anxiety.
+
+"Oh, no; I did not buy it," said Susy.
+
+"How did it come into your hands, then--tell me that?"
+
+"Cousin Edward brought it for Fanny."
+
+"And you read the first two volumes and are now reading the third?"
+
+"Nay, mamma, 'tis I that was led by my curiosity," said Lottie hastily.
+
+"Though you have often heard me protest against the vice of novel
+reading? I wonder at you, Lottie. I am shocked that you should so yield
+to a vulgar temptation," said Mrs. Burney.
+
+"Nay, my dear madam, you must not talk of our dear 'Evelina' as if she
+were an everyday person," said Mr. Crisp. "On the contrary, she is a
+most interesting young lady, and if I do not soon learn what happens
+to her now that she has formed some very dubious intimacies, I shall be
+inconsolable. Have you read the book, Mrs. Burney?"
+
+"Not I indeed," replied Mrs. Burney, with more than a suggestion of
+indignation that such a charge should be brought against her. "I have
+heard enough about that book during the past month to prevent me from
+having any wish to read it, even if I were a novel reader, which I
+certainly deny. I am ashamed that any member of my household should so
+far forget her duty as to read such stuff."
+
+"Come, come, my dear lady, you must remember that there are novels and
+novels," said Mr. Crisp. "I have heard you praise Mr. Richardson, have I
+not?"
+
+"Mr. Richardson was a genius and a great moral writer, sir, as well."
+
+"The two are not invariably associated. But what if I tell you that
+this new book is worthy of being placed between 'Clarissa Harlowe' and
+'Pamela'?"
+
+"You will not do so gross an injustice to the memory of a great man, I
+am sure. But, if you please, we will discuss this no longer. No matter
+what this 'Evelina' may be, the fact remains that I gave a command that
+our home should be free from the taint of novel reading, and my wishes
+have been secretly ignored. I should not wonder if Fanny had encouraged
+Edward to procure the book for her."
+
+"I cannot deny it," said Fanny in a low voice. "'Twas my doing
+altogether. All the blame should rest on my shoulders--yes, from the
+first--the very first--from the title page on to 'Finis.'"
+
+"And your delinquency has given me greater pleasure than I have derived
+from other people's rectitude," said Mr. Crisp. Then he turned to Mrs.
+Burney.
+
+"Dear madam, you must forgive our Fannikin for her misdemeanour. If
+you had but read the book for yourself you would feel as I do on the
+subject. 'Tis the most fascinating story----"
+
+"That is, I hold, the worst of the matter," said Mrs. Burney. "The more
+fascinating the novel, the more dangerous it is, and the greater reason
+there is why it should be excluded from every honest home. A dull story
+may do but little harm. One might reasonably tolerate it even among a
+household of young girls, but a clever one--a fascinating one, as you
+call this 'Evelina,' should never be allowed to cross the threshold.
+But, by your leave, sir, we will talk no more upon a question on which I
+know we shall never agree."
+
+"That is the most satisfactory proposal that could be made," said Mr.
+Crisp, bowing. "I will only add that since you are so fully sensible
+of the danger of a delightful book in your house, you will take prompt
+measures to prevent the baleful influence of 'Evelina' from pervading
+your home, by despatching the third volume to me without delay. The
+third volume of such a novel may in truth be likened to the match in
+the barrel of gunpowder: 'tis the most dangerous part of the whole. The
+first two volumes are like the gunpowder--comparatively innocent, but
+the moment the third volume is attached--phew! So you would do well
+not to delay in getting rid of such an inflammatory composition, Mrs.
+Burney."
+
+"I promise you that you shall have it at once, sir," said Mrs. Burney.
+"And I trust that you will not allow the first and second to return to
+my house. A barrel of gunpowder may be as innocent as you say, so long
+as the match is withheld, but still I have no intention of turning our
+home into a powder magazine."
+
+That was the last reference made to "Evelina" while Mrs. Burney and the
+two girls remained at Chessington. They went away so as to be back
+in St. Martin's Street in time for dinner; but the moment they
+were together in the chaise Mrs. Burney burst out once more in her
+denunciation of the vice of novel reading. From her general treatment
+of the theme she proceeded--as the girls feared she would--to the
+particular instance of its practice which had just come under her
+notice. She administered to poor Susy a sound scolding for having
+received the book from her cousin Edward in secret, and another to poor
+Lottie for having ventured to read it without asking leave. The girls
+were soon reduced to tears, but not a word did they say in reply. They
+were loyal to their sister and her secret with which they had been
+entrusted. Not a word did either of them utter.
+
+The drive home on that lovely afternoon was a dreary one, especially
+after Mrs. Burney had said:
+
+"I fear that this duplicity has been going on for a long time in our
+house. Yes, I have noticed more than once an exchange of meaning glances
+between you and Fanny, and sometimes, too, when your cousin Edward was
+in the room. It seemed to me that you had some secret in common which
+you were determined to keep from me. I said nothing at that time, for
+though my suspicions were awakened, yet I thought it best to take the
+most favourable view of the matter, and I assumed that the secret--if
+there was a secret--was an innocent one--such as girls in a family may
+share among themselves about some trifling thing; but now I have no
+doubt that your glances and your winks and your elbowings had to do with
+the smuggling of books into the house for your surreptitious reading. I
+am ashamed of you. It hurts me deeply to find that, after all the care I
+have taken to preserve you in innocence of the world and its wickedness,
+you have been behaving with such duplicity. I shall, of course, think
+it my duty to let your father know what I have found out, and he may be
+able to suggest some means of preventing a repetition of such conduct."
+
+The poor girls dared not even look at each other for mutual sympathy,
+lest such glances should be interpreted by their mother as a further
+attempt to pursue the scheme of duplicity with which she had charged
+them. They could only sit tearful and silent until they were once again
+in St. Martin's Street. They longed to rush upstairs together to their
+room and mingle their tears in a sisterly embrace before determining
+how they should meet their stepmother's charges in the presence of their
+father.
+
+But Mrs. Burney was too astute a strategist to permit them to consult
+together.
+
+"Is your master within?" she inquired of William, the man-servant, who
+opened the door for them.
+
+"He is in the library, madam, with Mrs. Esther," replied the man.
+
+"So much the better," said Mrs. Burney to the girls. "We shall go
+directly to him, and your sister Esther will be present."
+
+She made them precede her to the room that was called the library. Dr.
+Burney and Hetty were laughing together across the table--the sound of
+their merriment had been heard by the girls before the door was opened.
+But at the portentous gravity of the entrance of Mrs. Burney her husband
+became grave.
+
+"You have returned early," he said, "and--good heavens! you have been
+weeping--you do not bring bad news--Fanny has not had a relapse?"
+
+"Fanny is quite well; but I bring you bad news," replied Mrs. Burney.
+"You will, I am sure, regard it as the worst possible news when I tell
+you that she, as well as her sisters here, have been guilty of the
+grossest disobedience--a conspiracy of disobedience, I may call it."
+
+"I am amazed--and grieved," said he. "But I can scarcely believe that,
+brought up as they have been----"
+
+"They do not deny it," said she. "I only discovered by chance that, in
+defiance of our rule against novel reading, they been have trafficking
+with their cousin Edward to procure novels for their secret reading, and
+the latest they smuggled into the house is that one called 'Evelina'--I
+actually found Fanny reading the book to Mr. Crisp, and her sisters
+admitted----"
+
+"But what did Fanny admit?" he cried.
+
+"She admitted that Edward had procured the book at her request," replied
+his wife. "Was not that enough?"
+
+"Not half enough--not a quarter enough, considering that it was Fanny
+who wrote 'Evelina' with her own hand and under our very noses without
+our suspecting it," said Dr. Burney quietly.
+
+Mrs. Burney looked at him dumbly for more than a whole minute. There was
+silence in the room.
+
+Then she sat slowly down on the nearest chair, still keeping her eyes
+fixed upon him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII
+
+|DOCTOR BURNEY sat for a long time staring at a point high above his
+wife's head. The eldest daughter, Hetty, standing at the other side of
+the writing-table, was radiant; her eyes were dancing. The two others
+were standing together--huddled together, it might be said, for they
+suggested a pair of lambs recently frightened--doubtful of what is going
+to happen next and feeling that the closer they are to each other the
+safer they will be.
+
+"Did you ever hear of anything so funny?" said Hetty, glancing around
+and still radiant.
+
+Her father got upon his feet.
+
+"And she was the only one that never had any attention," said he, as if
+he had not heard Hetty's remark. "Fanny was left to make her own way as
+pleased her best--no one troubled about her education. She was left
+to pick up knowledge as best she could--the crumbs that fell from the
+others' table--that was how she picked up French when the others came
+back from school, and now she speaks it with the best of them... And
+so shy! Tell me, if you can, how she got her knowledge of things--the
+things in that book--the pictures red with life--the real life-blood of
+men and women--love--emotion--pathos--all that make up life--and don't
+forget the characterization--that's what seems to me all but miraculous.
+Hogarth--we all know that Hogarth drew his characters and fitted them
+into his pictures because he made it a point to walk among them and look
+at them with observant eyes; but tell me, if you can, what chance that
+child had of seeing anything; and yet she has filled her canvas, and
+every bit is made up of firm, true drawing. That is the chief wonder."
+
+He spoke evidently under the impulse of a great excitement at first, not
+looking at anyone in particular--just skimming them all with his eyes
+as he paced the room. But he seemed gradually to recover himself as
+he talked, and he appeared to address his last words to his wife. This
+assisted her to recover herself also--a minute or so in advance of him.
+
+"You seem to be sure that Fanny wrote it," she said, when he had done.
+"Is it fair to condemn her before you make sure?"
+
+Everyone looked at Mrs. Burney; but only her husband laughed.
+
+"Condemn her--condemn her for having written the finest novel since
+Fielding?" he said, with the laugh still on his face. There was no laugh
+on hers; on the contrary, its expression was more serious than ever.
+
+"A novel is a novel," she said. "I told Mr. Crisp--but that was
+only about the reading of novels--the cleverer they are the more
+mischievous--dangerous--even the reading--I never dreamt of her going
+so far as to write one, clever or otherwise. But a novel is still a
+novel--she must have neglected her duties in the house, though I failed
+to observe it... and sending it to a bookseller without saying a word to
+us! Who would have believed that a young woman with her training--"
+
+"It flashed across me when I read the verses addressed to myself at the
+beginning that she had asked my permission some months ago, and that
+I had given it--I did so laughing at the poor child's credulousness in
+believing that any bookseller would print it for her and pay her for the
+privilege--the privilege of making a thousand pounds out of her book."
+
+"What! are you serious?--a thousand pounds, did you say?"
+
+"Mr. Lowndes will make more than a thousand pounds by the sale of the
+book--Hetty tells me that he only paid Fanny twenty for it."
+
+"What is the world coming to--a fortune in a single book! And we talked
+about her being portionless, when all the time she was more richly
+endowed than all the rest of the family; for if she has written one
+book, she can certainly write another equally remunerative. 'Perhaps she
+has another ready for the printers."
+
+Mrs. Burney was blessed with the capacity to look at matters,
+however artistic they might be, from the standpoint of the practical
+housekeeper. The mention of so sonorous a sum as a thousand pounds
+caused the scales of prejudice to fall from the eyes through which she
+had regarded the act of authorship, and at that instant she perceived
+that it should not be thought of as a delinquency but as a merit.
+
+And, after all, it appeared that the girl had obtained the permission of
+her father to print it--that put quite a different complexion upon the
+transaction, did it not?
+
+And a thousand pounds--that appealed to the good sense of a practical
+person and swept away the last cobweb of prejudice that she had had
+respecting novels and their writers.
+
+"Has she another book written, think you?" she inquired in a tone full
+of interest. "Of course we shall see that she gets a better share of Mr.
+Lowndes' thousand pounds than she did for her first."
+
+"She has not written a line since 'Evelina,'" said Esther. "To be sure,
+I have not been her _confidante_ since I got married, but I know that
+she was so frightened at the thought of what she had done that she would
+not write another page."
+
+"Frightened! What had she to be frightened about?" cried Mrs. Burney in
+a tone of actual amazement.
+
+"Goodness knows," said Esther with a laugh.
+
+The sound of the dinner-bell coming at that moment had about it also
+something of the quality of a long, loud, sonorous outburst of laughter
+with a cynical tinkle at the last.
+
+The group in that room dissolved in all directions with exclamations of
+dismay at being overtaken by the dinner-hour so unprepared.
+
+"It is all over now," said Susy to Lottie, when they were alone in their
+room. "I was afraid when she ushered us so formally into the library
+that we would be forced to tell our secret."
+
+"I made up my mind that no torture of the rack or wild horses would
+unseal my lips," said Susy, earnestly. "Do you know, Lottie, I feel
+quite lonely without our secret."
+
+"It is just the same with me, dear," said Lottie. "I feel as if I were
+suddenly cut off from some great interest in life--as if I had gone
+downstairs one morning and found that someone had stolen the piano. I
+wonder if it was Hetty who told the padre."
+
+"Make haste and we shall soon learn all," said Susy.
+
+Before they had finished dinner they learned from their father how he
+had got to the bottom of the secret that they had so cherished.
+
+He had gone as usual to give a music lesson to Queenie Thrale, and when
+partaking of some refreshment before setting out for London, Mrs. Thrale
+had talked to him in terms of the highest praise of "Evelina." She had
+read the book twice over, she told him, and had lent it to Dr. Johnson,
+who could talk of nothing else. Then Mrs. Cholmondeley had arrived on a
+visit to Thrale Hall, and she, too, was full of praise of the book. She,
+too, had lent her copy to someone else--to no less important a person
+than Mr. Edmund Burke, and he had declared himself as greatly captivated
+by it as his friend Sir Joshua Reynolds had been. Everybody was
+talking about it, and the question of the authorship had been as widely
+discussed as before; Mrs. Cholmondeley had declared that she would give
+twenty guineas to find out for certain who it was that had written the
+book.
+
+Mrs. Thrale had thereupon suggested that Dr. Burney was in a better
+position than most people for solving the mystery, going about as he was
+from one part of the town to another and being in close touch with all
+manner of people.
+
+"But I had not, as you know, so much as read the book for myself--I
+seemed to be the only one in town who had not done so--and on getting
+home I sent William post haste to Mr. Lowndes to purchase a set. This
+done, I sat down to peruse the first volume. The page opened on the Ode;
+it lay beneath my eyes, and I tell you truly that I did not seem to read
+it: I seemed to hear Fanny's voice reading the verses in my ear, and
+the truth came upon me in a flash--incredible though it appeared, I knew
+that it was she who had written the book. Hetty came in before my eyes
+were dry--she saw the volume in my hand, and she understood all. 'You
+know,' was all that she said. I think that the greatest marvel was the
+keeping of the secret of the book! To think of its being known to four
+girls and never becoming too great for them to bear!"
+
+He was appealing to his wife, but she only nodded a cold acquiescence in
+his surprise. She remained silent, however, and this was something to be
+grateful for, the girls thought: they knew just what she was thinking,
+and they also knew that if they had some little trouble in keeping their
+secret, she had very much more in restraining herself from uttering some
+comment upon their reticence--their culpable reticence, she would
+think it. They could see that she was greatly displeased at having been
+excluded from their secret, since such an exclusion had forced her into
+a false position more than once--notably in the presence of Mr. Crisp,
+when she had become the assailant of novels and novel reading generally,
+and also when she had scolded them on their return in the chaise. But
+they were good girls, and they were ready to allow that they were in the
+wrong, even though they did not think so: that is what really good girls
+do in their desire for peace in their homes. And Lottie and Susy made
+up their minds that should their stepmother tax them with double-dealing
+and deceit, they would not try to defend themselves. The reflection that
+they had kept their sister's secret would more than compensate them for
+any possible humiliation they might suffer at Mrs. Burney's hands.
+
+All that Mrs. Burney said at the conclusion of her husband's further
+rhapsody about the marvel of Fanny's achievement, considering how she
+had been generally thought the dunce of the family, was comprised in a
+few phrases uttered in a hurt tone:
+
+"While no one is more pleased than myself to witness her success, I
+cannot but feel that she would have shown herself possessed of a higher
+sense of her duty as a daughter if she had consulted her father or his
+wife in the matter," she said.
+
+"That may be true enough," said Dr. Burney; "but if she had done so,
+would she have achieved her purpose any more fully than she has, I ask
+you? No, my dear, I do not feel, with any measure of certainty, that I
+would have gone far in my encouragement of her efforts, nor do I think
+that you would have felt it consistent with your principles to do so."
+
+"I was only referring to the question of a simple girl's duty in regard
+to her parents," said Mrs. Burney.
+
+"And your judgment on that point is, I am certain, unassailable," said
+he. "But here we have a girl who is no simple girl, but a genius; and
+I think that a good deal of latitude should be allowed to a genius--a
+little departure from the hard and fast line of the duties expected from
+a simple girl may be permitted in such a one as Fanny."
+
+"Well, she has succeeded in her aims--so much is plain," said Mrs.
+Burney. "But I hope that should any of her sisters set about a similar
+enterprise----"
+
+But the ringing laughter that came from the sisters, their father
+joining in with great heartiness, saved the need for her to complete
+her sentence. At first she felt hurt, but she quickly yielded to the
+exuberant spirit that pervaded the atmosphere of the room, and smiled
+indulgently, after the manner of a staid elderly lady who is compelled
+to take part in the romp of her girls and boys at Christmas time.
+
+She continued smiling, and the others continued laughing, and this
+spirit of good humour was maintained until bedtime.
+
+The girls knew that they would not be scolded for their participation
+in Fanny's secret; for Fanny by her success had justified any amount of
+double-dealing. If Fanny had made a fool of herself they would feel
+that they deserved to participate in her scolding; but success is easily
+pardoned, and so they rightly counted upon a general amnesty. What was
+it that their father had said about a thousand pounds?
+
+They went to bed quite happy, in spite of being deprived of the fearful
+joy of having a secret to keep.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII
+
+|DR. BURNEY had given instructions that Fanny was not to be communicated
+with at Chessington until he had seen her; but that the third volume
+of the book was to be sent to Mr. Crisp without delay. He was to go to
+Streatham again in two days' time, and thence to Chessington, where he
+would make Mr. Crisp aware of the identity of the writer of "Evelina."
+
+He anticipated an interesting hour with Mr. Crisp, but a very much more
+interesting half-hour with Mrs. Thrale; for he meant, of course, to lose
+no time in letting that lady into the secret: he knew that she would
+make the most of the information he could impart to her; to be the first
+to learn what all her friends were striving to learn would at once place
+her above Mrs. Cholmondeley, who was willing to pay twenty guineas for
+the knowledge, and even Mrs. Montagu, who was inclined to patronize
+Mrs. Thrale and a good many other ladies, in spite of the fact that Dr.
+Johnson dined usually five days out of every week with Mrs. Thrale,
+but had only dined once with Mrs. Montagu since she had gone to her new
+house.
+
+Dr. Burney was well aware how valuable the Thrale connection was to him;
+a teacher of music is apt to look with sparkling eyes at a houseful of
+girls whose father possesses the possibilities of such wealth as was
+defined by Dr. Johnson in this particular case as beyond the dreams
+of avarice. Dr. Burney had a very nice judgment on the subject of an
+influential connection, and so was delighted to have a chance of doing
+a signal good turn to so deserving a patroness as Mrs. Thrale. Yes,
+he felt sure that his half-hour at Streatham Hall would be the
+most interesting of the many half-hours he had spent under the same
+hospitable roof.
+
+And he was not mistaken in his surmise.
+
+Mrs. Thrale had, as usual, several friends coming to partake of an early
+repast with her; and Dr. Burney had pictured to himself the effect of
+his announcement to the company that his daughter had written the book
+upon which he was pretty sure the conversation would turn--indeed, he
+felt that he would be greatly surprised if the conversation did not
+immediately rush to the question of "Evelina" and remain there for the
+rest of the afternoon; for the enterprising ladies would doubtless
+bring with them some fresh suggestions or new cues to its authorship.
+He pictured himself allowing them to go on for some time until perhaps a
+statement would be made which he should have to contradict point-blank.
+They would all look at him in surprise. What did he know about the
+matter? Was he interested in the question? Had he found out anything?
+
+How he would smile while saying quietly:
+
+"Well, I am more or less interested in the matter, the fact being that
+'Evelina' is the work of my daughter, Fanny Burney!"
+
+That would be, he thought, a fitting moment in which to divulge the
+secret; he saw the whole scene clearly before him.
+
+But before he had reached his destination that intuition of what would
+commend itself to a patron which had been so important an auxiliary to
+his ability in placing him above his rivals in his profession, overcame
+his desire to play the most important part in a dramatic scene; he
+perceived that such a r�le should be taken by an influential patroness,
+and not by himself. Thus it was that when Mrs. Thrale was giving him a
+cup of chocolate after his journey he smiled, saying:
+
+"I was greatly interested in the conversation between Mrs. Cholmondeley
+and the other ladies when I was last here."
+
+"About 'Evelina'?" she inquired. "Ah, I wonder if Mrs. Cholmondeley has
+yet paid over her twenty guineas to the discoverer of the author. It
+seems that he has as arduous a task in regard to 'Evelina' as Raleigh
+had in regard to his El Dorado."
+
+"So it would appear," said Dr. Burney. "Let us hope that his efforts
+will be more highly valued than those of poor Sir Walter. Have you
+yourself no suspicions on the subject, madam?"
+
+"Oh, suspicions? There have been as many suspicions set going on this
+subject within the month as would be entertained only by the most
+imaginative Bow Street runner. For my own part, I maintain that the book
+could only have been writ by our friend Horace Walpole. He found that
+his 'Otranto' excited so much curiosity when published without a name,
+he came to the conclusion that he would produce another novel with
+the same amount of mystery attached to it. The only point against this
+assumption is that----"
+
+"That the book was assuredly written by another person," said Burney,
+smiling in a way that he designed to be somewhat enigmatical.
+
+Mrs. Thrale tried to interpret his smile.
+
+"What!" she exclaimed, "you have formed another theory--you--you have
+heard something since you were last here?"
+
+"Not something, madam--not a mere something, but everything--everything
+that is to be known regarding the writer of that book."
+
+"Is't possible? Who is your informant?--the value of all that you have
+heard is dependent upon the accuracy of your informant."
+
+"The book was written by the person whom I fancied I knew best of all
+the people in the world, and yet the last person whom I would believe
+capable of such a feat. The author of the book--I am the author of her
+being--she is none other than my daughter Fanny."
+
+Mrs. Thrale sat staring at him, one arm resting upon the table, her lips
+parted as if about to utter an exclamation of surprise, but unable to do
+so by reason of her surprise.
+
+More than a minute had passed before she was able to speak, and then she
+could do no more than repeat his words.
+
+"Your daughter Fanny--your daughter--but is not Fanny the little shy
+one that goes into a corner when you have company?" she asked, in a
+tone that suggested that she had heard something too ridiculous to be
+believed.
+
+"She is that one, madam," he replied. "It would seem as if the corner
+of a room has its advantages in enabling one to observe life from a
+true standpoint. Two eyes looking out from a corner with a brain behind
+them--there you have the true writer of a novel of life and character.
+Poor Fanny! How often have not I talked of her as 'poor Fanny'? She had
+no education except what she contrived to pick up haphazard--a sweet
+child--a lovable daughter, but the last person in the world to be
+suspected of such a book as 'Evelina.'"
+
+"You are sure, sir--you have seen--heard--you know?"
+
+"Beyond any doubt. Her sisters were let into the secret, but neither
+of her parents. I know now why that was--no want of duty--no lack of
+respect--she began the book for her own amusement, and it grew under
+her hand; she sent it to a bookseller, more as a jest than in the belief
+that anything would come of it, and up to the last it was treated by
+her and her sisters as a schoolroom mystery--a nursery secret--and
+Mrs. Burney and I were kept out of it solely because we were not of the
+nursery or the schoolroom. And when it became a serious matter we were
+excluded because they were afraid to reveal it to us--Fanny herself,
+dear child!--feared that we would be concerned if it were stillborn. It
+was only when it was at the point of being published by Mr. Lowndes that
+she came to me saying that she had been writing something and wanted
+my leave to send it forth, promising that no name would appear upon the
+title page. I gave my leave with a smile, and when I had my laugh at the
+innocence of the girl in fancying that any bookseller would pay for the
+printing of what she might scribble, I forgot all about the matter. It
+was only when I sent for the book and read the Ode addressed to myself
+that I seemed to hear Fanny's voice speaking the words in my ear--I told
+the others so when they returned from visiting her at Chessington. But
+meantime Esther had come to me, and she told me all that was known to
+her about the book and its secret."
+
+"The most wonderful story ever known--more wonderful than the story of
+Evelina herself!" cried Mrs. Thrale. "How people--Mrs. Cholmondeley and
+the rest--will lift up their hands! Who among them will believe it all
+possible? List, my dear doctor, you must bring her to me in the first
+instance--all the others will be clamouring for her to visit them--I
+know them! You must bring her to me without delay--why not to-day? I can
+easily send a chaise for her--a coach if necessary. Well, if not to-day,
+to-morrow. I must have her here. We will understand each other--she and
+I; and Dr. Johnson will be with us--quite a little company--for dinner.
+You will promise me?"
+
+"Be assured, dear madam, that there is no house apart from her home
+where I feel she would be happier than in this," said Dr. Burney. "She
+has often expressed the warmest admiration for you, and I know that her
+dearest wish is to be on terms of intimacy with you."
+
+"The sweet girl! she shall have her dearest wish gratified to the
+fullest extent, sir. You will bring her as early to-morrow as it suits
+you. Good heavens! to think of that dear retiring child taking the town
+by storm! Dr. Johnson wrote to me no later than last evening, expressing
+once more his delight in reading the book, and Mr. Burke, too--but you
+heard about Mr. Burke. I will never forget your courtesy in telling me
+first of all your friends that she was the author, dear doctor."
+
+"If not you, madam, whom would I have told?"
+
+"I shall be ever grateful. You will give me leave to make the revelation
+to my friends who will be here to-day?"
+
+"It is open for you to tell them all that I have told you, my dear
+madam; and you may truthfully add that if the writing of the book will
+bring her into closer intimacy with Mrs. Thrale, the author will feel
+that it has not been written in vain."
+
+He made his lowest bow on rising from the table to receive his pupil,
+who entered the room at that moment.
+
+He had confidence that he was right in his intuition that his patroness
+would act with good effect the r�le which he had relinquished in
+her favour, when her friends would arrive in another hour for their
+"collation;" and he was ready to allow that none could have played the
+part more neatly than she did when the time came to prove how much
+better-informed she was than the rest of the world. She might have been
+possessed of the knowledge that Miss Burney was the writer of "Evelina"
+from the first, from the easy and natural way in which she said:
+
+"Pray do not trouble yourselves telling me what Mrs. Cholmondeley said
+to Mr. Lowndes, or what Mr. Lowndes said to someone else about the
+writer of the novel; for it happens that I know, and have known for--for
+some time the name of the author."
+
+There were a few little exclamations of surprise, and a very pretty
+uplifting of several pairs of jewelled hands at this calm announcement.
+
+"Oh, yes," she continued, "the writer is a friend of my own, and the
+daughter of one of my most valued friends, and if any people talk to you
+in future of 'Evelina' being the work of Mr. Walpole or Mr. Anstey or
+any man of letters, pay no attention to these astute investigators, but
+tell them that I said the book is the work of Miss Fanny Burney, one of
+the daughters of the celebrated Dr. Charles Burney, himself the author
+of a 'History of Music' that will live so long as the English language
+has a literature of its own."
+
+Mrs. Thrale did it all with amazing neatness, Dr. Burney thought; and
+the attempt that she made to conceal the expression of triumph in the
+glance that she gave to her guests let him know that his tact had been
+exercised in the right direction. Mrs. Thrale was not the woman to
+forget that he had given her such a chance of proving to her friends how
+intimate was her association with the literary history of the day. She
+had been for several years the patroness of Dr. Johnson, who had written
+the best dictionary, and now she was about to take under her protection
+Miss Burney, who had written the best novel. He knew that Mrs. Thrale
+was almost as glad to be able to reveal the secret of "Evelina" as if
+she had written the book herself.
+
+And everyone else at the table felt that Mrs. Thrale was indeed an
+amazingly clever woman; and wondered how Mrs. Cholmondeley would feel
+when she had learned that she had been forestalled in her quest after
+the information on which she had placed a value of twenty guineas.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV
+
+|IT had all come to her now. She had had her dreams from time to time
+when working at her novel--dreams of recognition--of being received on
+terms of equality by some of the lesser literary people who had visited
+the house in St. Martin's Street, and had gone away praising the musical
+talents of her sisters, but leaving her unnoticed. Her aspirations had
+been humble, but it seemed to her so stupid to be stupid in the midst of
+a brilliant household, that she longed to be able to do something that
+would, at least, cause their visitors of distinction to glance into her
+corner and recognize her name when it was spoken in their hearing.
+That was all she longed for at first--to be recognized as "the one who
+writes," as people recognized "the one who plays." But since Signor
+Rauzzini had come upon the scene her ambitions had widened. She dreamt
+not merely of recognition, but of distinction, so that he might be proud
+of her, and that she might not merely be spoken of as the wife of the
+Roman singer. That dream of hers had invariably been followed by a
+feeling of depression as she reflected upon the improbability of its
+ever being realized, and if it should not be realized, all hope of
+happiness would pass from her life. Thus it was that for some months she
+had lived with the cold finger of despair constantly pressing upon her
+heart. She was so practical--so reasonable--that she could never yield
+herself up to the fascination of the Fool's Paradise of dreams; she was
+ready to estimate her chances of literary success, and the result of
+the operation was depressing. How could any young woman who had seen so
+little of life, and who had been so imperfectly educated, have any hope
+to be received as a writer of distinction? What claim to distinction
+could such a girl as she advance in the face of the competition that was
+going on around her in every branch of distinctive work?
+
+For some months her good sense and her clear head were her greatest
+enemies; evermore bringing her back to the logic of a life in which
+everything is represented by figures, from a great artistic success to
+a butcher's bill--a life in which dreams play a part of no greater
+significance than the splendid colours clinging about the West in the
+unalterable routine of the setting sun.
+
+Many times she had awakened in the night to weep as she felt the
+bitterness of defeat; for her book had been given to the world and the
+world had received it as the sea receives a stone that is flung upon its
+surface. That simile of the stone and the sea was constantly recurring
+to her, and every time she saw that it was weak--that it fell short of
+meeting her case, for her book had made no stir whatsoever in the world,
+whereas a stone, however small it might be, could not be given to the
+sea without creating some stir on the surface of the waters.
+
+And then, quite unexpectedly, had come a whisper from the world to tell
+her that her book had not been submerged: the whisper had increased in
+volume until it had sounded in her ears like a shout of acclamation,
+telling her that the reality had far surpassed her most sanguine dreams,
+and that common-sense reasoning is sometimes farther astray in its
+operation than are the promptings of the most unreasonable ambition.
+
+These were her rose-tinted reflections while driving with her father
+from Chessington to Streatham, a journey which represented to her the
+passing from obscurity to distinction, the crossing of the Jordan and
+the entering into the Land of Promise.
+
+Fanny Burney has herself told the story of her father's coming to her
+at Chessington, and of her dear old friend's reception of the marvellous
+news that Dr. Burney brought to him--of the phrases which she
+overheard while the two men were in a room together--the incredulous
+exclamations--"Wonderful--it's wonderful!"--"Why, she has had very
+little education but what she has given herself--less than any of the
+others"--"The variety of characters--the variety of scenes, and the
+language"--"Wonderful!" And then Mr. Crisp's meeting her, catching her
+by the hands as she was going in to supper, and crying, "Why, you little
+hussy, ain't you ashamed to look me in the face you--you 'Evelina,' you!
+Why, what a dance you have led me about it!" Miss Burney has brought the
+scene vividly before our eyes in her Diary.
+
+It was one of the happiest days of her life; she saw the pride with
+which her father regarded her, for Dr. Burney was a practical man
+who valued achievement as it deserved, and was, besides, the best of
+fathers, and the most anxious to advance the interests of his children.
+He looked with pride upon his daughter, and talked of her having made
+Mr. Lowndes a wealthy man. His estimate of her earning powers had
+increased: he now declared that even if Lowndes had paid a thousand
+pounds for the book, his profits off it would enable him to buy an
+estate!
+
+It was the happiest evening of her life; and now she was in the chaise
+with her beloved father, driving to Streatham, where they were to
+dine, and Dr. Johnson was to be of the party. This meant more than
+recognition, it meant the Land of Promise of her ambitious dreams.
+
+She had many matters to reflect upon at this time, but all her
+reflections led to the one point--her next meeting with Rauzzini. The
+truth that had been revealed to her among Sir Joshua Reynolds' superb
+canvases, that love was more than all else that the world could give
+her, remained before her, as a luminous fixed star, to be a guide to her
+life; and the happiness that she now felt was due to the thought that
+she could go to the man whom she loved, without a misgiving, without
+fearing that he would hear those dreaded voices of the world saying that
+he had been a fool to ally himself with a nonentity, or that she would
+hear the whispers of those who might suggest that she had done very well
+for herself. She had long before made her resolution only to go to him
+when she could do so on terms of equality. At that time her resolution
+seemed to shut her out from all chances of happiness; she knew this, but
+at the same time she believed that it would shut both of them out from
+every chance of unhappiness; and so she had allowed it to dominate her
+life.
+
+That was where her common-sense and her reasonableness had their way,
+prevailing over that blind impulse which she now and again had, to trust
+to chance--and love--to overcome every other consideration, and to give
+her lover and herself happiness solely by being together. It was such
+impulses as this that caused love to be referred to as blind. But she
+was now ready to thank heaven for having given her strength to overcome
+it and so to give the victory to reason and good sense.
+
+She made up her mind to write to him before she slept that very night,
+telling him what her resolution had been--he had called it a mystery,
+not knowing anything about it--and asking him to rejoice with her that
+she had been able to maintain it, so that the barrier which she had seen
+between them was now swept away.
+
+"Come to me--come to me"--that would be the burden of her letter to him;
+she would send it to him and he would come.
+
+The thought made her lean back among the cushions of the chaise and shut
+her eyes, the better to enclose the vision of happiness that came from
+her heart. He would come to her and her happiness would be complete.
+
+So she arrived with her father at Thrale Hall and was welcomed by Mrs.
+Thrale in the porch. When she had made her toilet for dinner she was
+shown into the drawing-room. As she entered, she was conscious of the
+presence of several men, and the one nearest to her was, she saw, Signor
+Rauzzini.
+
+All the men in the room were looking toward her except Rauzzini. He was
+standing by the side of a small table, presenting his profile to her,
+and his eyes were gazing across the room at a picture that hung between
+the windows, a frown on his face.
+
+She was startled, and the blood rushed to her cheeks. It would have done
+so on her entering the room, even if she had not been surprised to see
+her lover there when she believed him to be still in France.
+
+She had stopped before reaching the middle of the room, and then she
+was hidden from the view of everybody by a huge mass of manhood in the
+person of Dr. Johnson. He seemed inclined to embrace her; and as he
+swung himself close to her, there was no one in the room that had not a
+moment of trepidation lest he should fall over her and crush her flat.
+
+Mrs. Thrale tripped alongside Fanny, as if ready to die with her.
+
+"Oh, come, Dr. Johnson," she cried. "I have no intention of allowing
+you to monopolize Miss Burney, for that I perceive is your desire. The
+gentlemen must be presented to her in proper form."
+
+"Madam," said he, "I understood clearly that Miss Burney was coming
+hither for myself alone, and I have no mind to share so precious a
+morsel with others. Miss Burney and I are old friends, give me leave to
+say; I have more than once been interested in a book in the room where
+she was sitting in her father's house. Come to my arms, Miss Burney, and
+we shall laugh together at the jealous glances the others cast at me."
+
+"Miss Burney will sit beside you at dinner, sir, and that must suffice
+you for the present," said Mrs. Thrale, taking Fanny by the hand.
+
+But Johnson had succeeded, after more than one ineffectual attempt, in
+grasping Miss Burney's left hand, and in his ponderous playfulness, he
+refused to relinquish it, so that she had to make her curtsies to the
+gentlemen with Mrs. Thrale on one side of her and Johnson on the other.
+There was Mr. Seward and Sir Joshua Reynolds, and two others besides
+Signor Rauzzini. Each of them had a compliment to offer her, and did so
+very pleasantly and with great tact.
+
+"Now that is done, Miss Burney and I can sit together on the sofa, and
+she will tell me why she loves the Scotch and I will scold her for it,"
+said Johnson complacently.
+
+"Nay, sir, Miss Burney has not yet greeted Signor Rauzzini," said Mrs.
+Thrale. "You and Miss Burney are already acquainted, I know, Signor
+Rauzzini, though you did fancy that she was one of the musical girls of
+St. Martin's Street."
+
+Rauzzini took a single step away from the table at which he had remained
+immovable, and bowed low, without speaking a word.
+
+Fanny responded. They were separated by at least three yards.
+
+"Dinner is on the table, sir," announced a servant from the door.
+
+"I am not sorry," said Johnson. "Mrs. Thrale gave me a solemn promise
+that Miss Burney should sit next to me. That was why I kept my eye on
+Miss Burney."
+
+"And hand too, sir," remarked Mr. Seward.
+
+"Why, yes, sir, and hand too, if you insist," said Johnson. "And let me
+tell you, sir, that a Lichfield man will keep his hand on anything he
+wishes to retain when another Lichfield man is in the same room."
+
+His laughter set the ornaments on the mantelpiece a-jingling.
+
+And they went in to dinner before the echoes had died away.
+
+Mrs. Thrale kept her promise, and Fanny was placed next to Johnson. But
+even then he did not let go her hand. He held it in one of his own and
+patted it gently with the other. Fanny glanced down the table and saw
+that the eyes of the young Roman were looking in her direction, and that
+they were flaming. What could he mean, she wondered. She had been at
+first amazed at his bearing toward her in the drawing-room; but after
+a moment's thought, she had supposed that he had assumed that distant
+manner to prevent anyone from suspecting the intimacy there was between
+them. But what could that angry look in his eyes portend? Was it
+possible that he could be jealous of Dr. Johnson's awkward attention to
+her?
+
+She was greatly troubled.
+
+But if he had, indeed, resented Johnson's attention to her, such a plea
+was no longer valid after the first dish had been served, for in an
+instant Johnson's attention was transferred, with increased force, to
+the plate before him, and during the solid part of the meal, at least,
+it was never turned in any other direction. Poor Fanny had never seen
+him eat, nor had she the same privilege in respect of Mr. Thrale. But
+she needed all the encouragement that her hostess could afford her to
+enable her to make even the most moderate meal while such distractions
+were in her immediate neighbourhood; and she came to the conclusion that
+she had been ridiculously fastidious over the prodigious tea and its
+service at Mr. Barlowe's in the Poultry.
+
+But Mrs. Thrale was as tactful and as chatty as ever, and Mr. Seward
+made pleasant conversation for her, sitting, as he did, on the other
+side from Johnson. When Johnson was eating, his fellow guests understood
+that their chance was come to express their views without a dread of
+being contradicted by him.
+
+But from the feebleness of her contribution to the chat of the table,
+Mrs. Thrale as well as Mr. Seward perceived that all they had been told
+about the timidity of little Miss Burney was even less than the truth.
+
+But for that matter, Signor Rauzzini, who had been placed between Mrs.
+Thrale and Dr. Burney, was found by both of them to be also singularly
+averse from joining in the conversation, whether in reply to Burney, who
+addressed him in Italian, or to his hostess, who spoke French to him.
+
+As Mrs. Thrale talked a good deal herself, however, she rose with an
+impression that there had been no especial lack of brilliancy at the
+table.
+
+She took Fanny away with her, her determination being that if she should
+fail to draw this shy young creature out of her shell, she would at any
+rate convince her that her hostess was deserving of the reputation
+which she enjoyed for learning, combined with vivacity, so that their
+companionship could not be otherwise than profitable after all.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV
+
+|IT was not yet six o'clock and the sun was not due to set for more than
+another hour. The evening was a lovely one. From the shrubberies around
+the house came the liquid notes of countless blackbirds and thrushes,
+and above the trees of the park the cawing of the rooks as they wheeled
+above their nests and settled upon the branches.
+
+"We shall sit on the terrace for half an hour, if you have a mind
+to," said Mrs. Thrale, taking Fanny through the drawing-room into a
+smaller room that opened upon a long terrace above the beds of the
+flower-garden. Here were several seats and a small table bearing writing
+materials.
+
+"Here I do most of my correspondence in the summer," said Mrs. Thrale.
+"Sitting at that table in the open air, I have few distractions, unless
+I choose to accept the birds as such; and here I hope you will begin
+a new novel, or better still, a comedy that Mr. Sheridan will produce,
+with Mrs. Abington in her most charming gowns--you must give your
+namesake a chance of wearing a whole trunkful of gowns." They seated
+themselves, and Mrs. Thrale continued:
+
+"Now I have confided in you how I do my simple work, and I wish to hear
+from you by what means you found time to write your novel. That is the
+greatest secret of all associated with 'Evelina'--so your father thinks.
+Mrs. Burney I always knew as a model housekeeper--a model manager of a
+family, and how you could contrive to write a single page without her
+knowledge is what baffles me as well as your father."
+
+"To tell you all would, I fear, be to confess to a lifetime of
+duplicity," said Fanny. "I am sometimes shocked now when I reflect upon
+my double-dealing."
+
+"Tell me how you first came to stray from the paths of virtue--such a
+story is invariably interesting," said Mrs. Thrale.
+
+"My story is like all the others," replied Fanny. "I only meant to turn
+aside a little way, but soon I lost myself and I knew that there was no
+retracing my steps."
+
+"Alas, alas, the old story!" said Mrs. Thrale, with a long-drawn sigh.
+"Well, happily, you were not able to retrace your steps."
+
+"I had no idea that the story would grow upon me as it did," said Fanny.
+"I really only meant it to be a diversion for our dear friend, Mr.
+Crisp, and an exercise for myself. I wrote a scrap now and again at odd
+moments--when I was supposed to be writing to Mr. Crisp, or copying out
+my father's notes for his History, at home as well as at Ches-sington,
+and when I was staying at Lynn; and so the thing grew and grew until I
+was afraid to look at what I had perpetrated."
+
+"You are paraphrasing _Macbeth_, my dear: 'I am afeared to think what I
+have done: Look on't again I dare not,'" said the elder lady. "But with
+all you were able to prepare your father's great work for the press--he
+told me as much; so that what your double-dealing comes to is that you
+did his writing as well as your own, and at the same time neglected none
+of your ordinary household duties--if you had done so Mrs. Burney would
+have informed you of it, I have no doubt. An excellent housewife, Mrs.
+Burney! And now you shall tell me how you contrived to bring together so
+marvellous a group of characters--you who have lived so short a time in
+the world, and had so small an amount of experience."
+
+"I should like someone to answer that question for me," said Fanny. "It
+was not until I read the book in print that I began to be surprised at
+it, and to wonder how it came to be written and how those characters had
+found their way into it."
+
+But this question was too interesting a one not to be pursued by Mrs.
+Thrale; and for half an hour she put inquiry after inquiry to Fanny
+respecting the characters, the incidents and the language of "Evelina."
+Mrs. Thrale was certainly determined to place herself in a position to
+prove to her friends that Miss Burney had made a _confidante_ of her in
+all matters, down to the smallest detail of the book.
+
+In ordinary circumstances Fanny would have been delighted to give
+her her confidence in regard to these particulars--she had always a
+childlike pleasure in talking about her books--but at this time she only
+did so with a great effort. For while Mrs. Thrale was plying her with
+questions about "Evelina," there was ever before Fanny the unanswered
+question as to what Rauzzini meant by his coldness and formality both
+before dinner and during that meal. What did he mean by looking at her
+with that reproachful frown upon his face? What did he mean by averting
+his eyes from her when he had a chance of exchanging confidences with
+her, as he had often done before? What did he mean by sitting at the
+table without addressing a single word to her?
+
+These were the questions which she was struggling in vain to answer to
+her own satisfaction all the time that Mrs. Thrale was putting
+inquiry after inquiry to her upon a matter that Fanny now regarded as
+insignificant compared with the one that she was trying to answer for
+herself.
+
+Mrs. Thrale was just beginning a series of questions on the subject of
+the comedy which she meant Miss Burney to write, when a servant appeared
+with a message for the former.
+
+"Tiresome!" exclaimed Fanny's hostess, rising. "Here is some
+insignificant household matter that can only be dealt with by the
+mistress--summer frocks for two girls: the carrier has brought some
+boxes--the summer has come upon us before spring has prepared us for
+its arrival, and there has been a despairing cry heard in the nursery.
+I need not excuse myself to you, Miss Burney. You will spare me for ten
+minutes."
+
+Miss Burney hoped that the feeling of relief of which she was conscious
+did not show itself on her face, when she expressed the hope that Mrs.
+Thrale would not think of her; she would be quite happy with the birds.
+
+"And the comedy--do not forget the comedy."
+
+Miss Burney laughed, but before her hostess had reached the door leading
+off the terrace, she was once more immersed in that question:
+
+"What does he mean by his change of attitude in regard to me?"
+
+It was serious--so much she knew. He had heard something that had caused
+him to change. But what could he have heard? What manner of man was he
+that would allow himself to be so influenced by anything that he might
+hear against her, without first coming to her for an explanation?
+
+Her mind went back to the evening when they had first met. It was in St.
+Martin's Street. He was there on the invitation of Dr. Burney: but it
+seemed that he had become conscious of a sympathy existing between her
+and himself, for he had remained by her side for a full hour while the
+others in the room were singing and playing on the piano, and he had
+held her hand at parting, expressing the hope, which his eyes confirmed,
+that they would soon meet again.
+
+And they had met again and again until one evening they found themselves
+alone in an anteroom to the apartment where a musical programme
+was being performed at a great house. Then he had told her that his
+happiness depended on her returning the love which he bore her; and
+startled though she had been, yet when he took her hand all her shyness
+seemed to vanish and she confessed....
+
+A sound behind her only served to make her memory seem more vivid, for
+it was his voice that reached her ear and it was singing the same aria
+that he had come from singing on that evening--the passionate
+"_Lascia ch'io pianga_" of Handel. Once more she was listening to
+the strains--they came from one of the rooms that opened upon the
+terrace--and now the chords of the accompaniment were struck with a
+vehemence that had been absent from her father's playing to Rauzzini's
+singing upon that occasion.
+
+She listened as if in a dream while the noble, despairing strain went on
+to its close, and the melody sobbed itself into silence--a silence
+that the birds among the roses seemed unwilling to break, for only an
+occasional note of a thrush was in the air....
+
+She heard the sound of the door opening a little way down the
+terrace--of a foot upon the flagged path. She did not raise her head,
+but she knew that he was there--only a few yards away from her.
+
+Through the silence there came the cawing of rooks far away among the
+trees of the park.
+
+Then all at once she heard his sudden exclamation of surprise. He had
+not seen her at first; he saw her now.
+
+"_Dio mio! ella � qui!_"
+
+Still she did not turn her head toward him. More than a minute had
+passed before she heard his slow steps as he approached her. He was
+beside her for quite as long before he spoke.
+
+"I did not know that you were here," he said in a low voice. "But I am
+glad. It is but right that I should say good-bye to you alone."
+
+Then she looked up.
+
+"Why--why--why?" she cried almost piteously. "Why should you say
+good-bye? What has made the change in you?"
+
+"It is not I who have changed: it is you," said he. "I loved the sweet,
+modest, untarnished jewel of a girl--a pearl hidden away from the sight
+of men in a dim sea-cave--a violet--ah, I told you how I loved the
+violet that hides itself from every eye--that was what you were when
+I loved you, and I hoped to return to your side and find you the same.
+Well, I return and--ah, where is the exquisite shrinking one that I
+looked for? Gone--gone--gone for ever, and in her place I find one whose
+name is in every mouth--not a soft, gentle girl, but a woman who has put
+her heart into a book--_Dio mio!_ A woman who puts her heart into a
+book is like a woman who disrobes in a public place--worse--worse--she
+exposes a heart that should be sacred--feelings that it would be a gross
+indelicacy to exhibit to the eyes of man!"
+
+"And that is how you think of me on account of what I have done?" said
+she.
+
+"How can I think anything else?" he cried. "I told you that I loved you
+because you were so unlike others--because you were like a child for
+timidity and innocence of the world. I told you on that last evening we
+were together how greatly I admired the act of Miss Linley in turning
+her back upon the platform where she had sung and vowing never to
+return to it--that was what I told you I loved--I who have seen how
+the nature--the womanly charm of every woman suffers by reason of her
+appealing to the public for money--for applause. That beautiful creature
+forsook the platform before it was too late--before the evil influence
+could work her ruin. But you--what do I hear the day I return to
+England?--you have put your heart--your soul, into a book that causes
+your name to be tossed about from mouth to mouth--Fanny Burney--Fanny
+Burney--Fanny Burney--I hear that name, which I regarded as sacred,
+spoken as freely as men speak the name of their Kitty Fisher--their
+Polly Kennedy--their Fanny Abington! These are public characters--so
+are you--oh, my God! so are you. You should have heard how you were
+discussed in that room behind us before you arrived to-day--that
+gross man Johnson--he called you by a dozen pet names as if he had a
+right--'Fan'--'Fannikin'--I know not what--' a shy rogue '--that was
+another! They laughed! They did not see the degradation of it. You were
+a toy of the public--the vulgar crowd! Ah, you saw how that gross man,
+who fed himself as a wolf, tucked you under his arm and the others only
+smiled! Oh, I was shocked--shocked!"
+
+"And I felt proud--prouder than I have felt in my life," said she. "But
+now I see what I have lost--forfeited. Listen to me and I will tell
+you what my dream was. I had written that book, but I had no hope of
+printing it until I met you and heard from your lips--all that I heard."
+
+"It was the truth--then: I loved you--then."
+
+"I knew that it was the truth. But who was I that I should be beloved by
+you? I felt that it would be unendurable to me to hear people refer
+to us--as I knew they would--the great singer who had stooped to a
+nonentity."
+
+"Ah! that was the charm!"
+
+"Who except you would have said so? I knew what they would say, and I
+made up my mind that I would not go to you except as an equal. I wanted
+you to marry someone of whom you would feel proud, and I thought that
+I had a little gift which I would lay at your feet. I did my best to
+perfect it for your sake; but even when the book was printed I would not
+give you my promise until I had assured myself that the gift would be
+pronounced worthy of your acceptance. That was why I put you off for so
+many months."
+
+"Ah, that was your mystery--you called it a mystery."
+
+"That was my secret--my mystery. Never mind; I thought that my hope was
+realized when everyone about me was talking of the book and when people
+whose opinion was valuable had said it was good--my one thought, God
+knows, was that I could go to you--that I could make you happy, since I
+should be thought by the world to be in some measure at least, worthy of
+you."
+
+"My poor child! you have not made me happy, but miserable. No one can
+make me happy now. I do not love you now--you are a different person
+now, and you can never return to be what you were. That is the worst of
+all: you can never return to your former innocence."
+
+"I can bear to hear you say even that; for now I perceive the mistake I
+made. I should not have thought of the difference between us: I should
+only have had one thought--that you had offered me your love and that I
+was ready to offer you my love. That should have been enough for me. You
+were right, I was wrong. Good-bye."
+
+He looked at her for a few moments--tears were in his eyes and on his
+cheeks--then he turned away with a passionate gesture, crying in his
+native tongue:
+
+"Mother--mother in heaven! I loved her because she was of a nature the
+same as yours--saint-like as a lily--shrinking from the world--in the
+world but having nothing in common with the world. I loved her because
+I thought that she was as you were. I will not be a traitor to your
+ideal--to your memory."
+
+He returned to her.
+
+"I am alone in the world; but I know that the spirit of that saint,
+my mother, looks down upon me from her heaven, and will comfort me. My
+heart is broken. _Addio! Addio!_ I do not mean to be cruel--tell me that
+you do not accuse me of being cruel!"
+
+"I do not accuse you. I think I understand you--that is all."
+
+"_Addio--addio--addio!_"
+
+The sound of his voice grew less with every word.
+
+She was alone in the silence of the twilight.
+
+Not for long, however. She heard the voice of Mrs. Thrale in the room
+behind her, followed by the protests of Dr. Johnson.
+
+"Miss Burney and I want to have an undisturbed talk together about
+writing books," Mrs. Thrale was saying as she came out upon the terrace.
+
+"Books, madam; any fool can talk of books, and a good many fools avail
+themselves of the licence," cried Johnson. "Miss Burney and I are going
+to talk about life. Books are not life, Miss Burney."
+
+"No, sir," said Miss Burney slowly; "books are not life--books are not
+life."
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Fanny's First Novel, by Frank Frankfort Moore
+
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+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" />
+    <title>
+      Fanny's First Novel, by Frank Frankfort Moore.
+    </title>
+    <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" />
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+    .mynote    {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;}
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+    .toc2      { margin-left: 20%;}
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Fanny's First Novel, by Frank Frankfort Moore
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
+other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
+the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
+www.gutenberg.org.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
+to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
+
+
+
+Title: Fanny's First Novel
+
+Author: Frank Frankfort Moore
+
+Release Date: May 1, 2016 [EBook #51922]
+Last Updated: March 13, 2018
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FANNY'S FIRST NOVEL ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Widger from page images generously
+provided by the Internet Archive
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+    <div style="height: 8em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h1>
+      FANNY'S FIRST NOVEL
+    </h1>
+    <h2>
+      By Frank Frankfort Moore.
+    </h2>
+    <h4>
+      Author of &ldquo;The Jessamy Bride,&rdquo; &ldquo;A Nest of Linnets,&rdquo; &ldquo;I Forbid the 'Banns,&rdquo;
+       Etc.
+    </h4>
+    <h4>
+      London: Hutchinson &amp; Co. Paternoster Row, E. C.
+    </h4>
+    <h3>
+      1913
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
+      <img src="images/0001.jpg" alt="0001 " width="100%" /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h5>
+      <a href="images/0001.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
+    </h5>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
+      <img src="images/0009.jpg" alt="0009 " width="100%" /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h5>
+      <a href="images/0009.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
+    </h5>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <b>CONTENTS</b>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>FANNY'S FIRST NOVEL</b> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXXII </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER XXXIII </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0034"> CHAPTER XXXIV </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0035"> CHAPTER XXXV </a>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h1>
+      <i>FANNY'S FIRST NOVEL</i>
+    </h1>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER I
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>NDEED, I am not
+      quite assured in my mind that the influence of Mr. Garrick upon such a
+      family as ours is healthy,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney, when the breakfast cups had
+      been removed and the maid had left the room in the little house in St.
+      Martin's Street, off Leicester Fields. Dr. Burney, the music-master, had
+      not to hurry away this day: his first lesson did not begin until noon; it
+      was to be given at the mansion of Mr. Thrale, the brewer, at Streatham,
+      and the carriage was not to call for him for another hour. He was glancing
+      at the <i>Advertiser</i> in unaccustomed indolence, but when his wife had
+      spoken he glanced up from the paper and an expression of amused surprise
+      was upon his face. His daughter Fanny glanced up from the work-basket
+      which her mother had placed ready for her the moment that the
+      breakfast-table had been cleared, and the expression upon little Miss
+      Burney's face was one that had something of fright in it. She was too
+      short-sighted to see the wink which her brother James, lieutenant in His
+      Majesty's navy, gave her, for their stepmother had her back turned to him.
+      But Mrs. Burney, without seeing him, knew that, as he himself would phrase
+      it, he had tipped Fanny a wink. She turned quickly round upon him, and if
+      she had previously any doubt on this point, it was at once dispelled by
+      the solemnity of his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Burney gave a laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The influence of Mr. Garrick is like that of the air we breathe,&rdquo; said
+      he. &ldquo;It is not to be resisted by the age we live in, leaving family
+      matters out of the question altogether: the Burney family must inhale as
+      much of the spirit of Mr. Garrick as the rest of the town-they cannot help
+      themselves, <i>ces pauvres Burneys!</i> they cannot live without Mr.
+      Garrick.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Burney shook her head solemnly; so did Lieutenant James Burney, for
+      he had all his life been under the influence of Mr. Garrick, when the
+      atmosphere brought by Mr. Garrick was one of comedy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My meaning is that Mr. Garrick is not content to allow simple people such
+      as ourselves to live as simple people,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;I protest that
+      I have felt it: the moment he enters our house we seem to be in a new
+      world-whatsoever world it is his whim to carry us to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is the truth, my dear-he can do what he pleases with us and with all
+      the thousands who have flocked to his playhouse since his Goodman's Fields
+      days&mdash;he has made a fortune as a courier; transporting people to
+      another world for an hour or two every night&mdash;a world that is less
+      humdrum than this in which four beats go to every bar and every crotchet
+      goes to a beat! Dear soul! he has made our hearts beat at times beyond all
+      computation of time and space.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will herring-bone the edges neatly, Fanny: I noticed some lack of
+      neatness in the last of the napery that left your hand, my dear,&rdquo; said
+      Mrs. Burney, bending over her stepdaughter at her work-basket; and,
+      indeed, it seemed that the caution was not unnecessary, for Fanny's eyes
+      were gleaming and she was handling her work with as great indifference
+      (for the moment) as though she esteemed plain sewing something of drudgery
+      rather than a delight. And now, having administered her timely caution,
+      the good lady turned to her husband, saying:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To my mind what you have claimed for Mr. Garrick but adds emphasis to my
+      contention that his visits have a disturbing influence upon a homely
+      family, taking them out of themselves, so to speak, and transporting them
+      far beyond the useful work of their daily life. I have noticed with pain
+      for some time past that Fanny's heart has not been in her work: her
+      cross-stitch has been wellnigh slovenly, and her herring-boning has really
+      been indifferent&mdash;I say it with sorrow; but dear Fanny is too good a
+      girl to take offence at my strictures, which she knows are honest and
+      meant for her good.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Madam,&rdquo; said Lieutenant Burney, &ldquo;I pray you to give me leave to bear you
+      out; but at the same time to make excuses for Fan. I must do so in justice
+      to her, for the blame rests with me so far as the herring-boning is
+      concerned. I confess, with tears in my eyes, that 'twas I who provided her
+      with the last models for her herring-boning; and 'twas surely some demon
+      in my breast that prompted me to substitute the skeleton of one of the
+      South Sea fishes which I hooked when becalmed with Captain Cook within
+      sight of Otaheite, for the true herring whose backbone is a model of
+      regularity to be followed by all workers with the needle, when deprived of
+      the flesh, which is the staple fare of hundreds of honest families and,
+      while nourishing them amply, prevents their thoughts from carrying them
+      beyond the region pervaded by the smell of their cooking.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That were a wide enough area upon occasions for the most ambitious of
+      thinkers,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney, controlling his features, seeing that his wife
+      took the ward-room humour of his son with dreadful seriousness. He made a
+      sign to James to go no further&mdash;but James had gone round the world
+      once, and he was not to be checked in a humbler excursion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, madam, 'tis my duty to confess that Fanny's model was the
+      flying-fish, and not the simple Channel herring, hence the failure to
+      achieve the beautiful regularity of design which exists in the backbone of
+      the latter from the figurehead to the stern, larboard sloping in one
+      direction and starboard in the other. If anyone be culpable 'tis myself,
+      not Fanny; but I throw myself on your mercy, and only implore that the
+      herring-boning of my sister will not result in a whaling for me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Burney looked seriously from her brother to Fanny, and getting no cue
+      from either, began:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Tis indeed honourable for you to endeavour by your confession to excuse
+      the fault of your sister, James&mdash;&mdash;-&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The traditions of the service, madam&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; began the lieutenant,
+      laying his hand on his heart; but he got no further, for Fanny could
+      restrain herself no longer; she burst into a laugh and dropped her work,
+      and her father rose, holding up his hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The jest has gone far enough, James,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;We sleep in beds in this
+      house and do not swing in hammocks. Keep your deep-sea jests until you are
+      out of soundings, if it please you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I ask your pardon, sir,&rdquo; said James; &ldquo;but i' faith there's many a true
+      word said in jest; and it seems to me that there's a moral in the parable
+      of the young woman who took the flying-fish of the South Seas for her
+      model rather than the herring of the three-fathom coast-line of the
+      Channel; and that moral touches close upon the complaint made by our good
+      mother against Mr. Garrick.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let it be so,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney, who was a clever enough woman to
+      perceive that it would be unwise to make a grievance of the impudence of a
+      young naval gentleman. &ldquo;Let it be so; let it be that we are simple,
+      homely, wholesome herrings, we are none the better for such a flying-fish
+      as Mr. Garrick coming among us, giving us, it may be, the notion that our
+      poor fins are wings, and so urging us to make fools of ourselves by
+      emulating the eagle. The moral of your fable is that we should keep to our
+      own element&mdash;is not that so, sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I' faith, madam, I am not sure but that 'tis so, and I haul down my
+      colours to you, and feel no dishonour in the act,&rdquo; cried James. &ldquo;Lord,
+      where should we all be to-day if it were not for the good women who hold
+      fast to the old traditions of the distaff and needle? They are the women
+      who do more for the happiness of men than all who pass their time dipping
+      quills in ink-horns or daubing paint upon good canvas that might with luck
+      be hung from a stunsail boom and add another knot to the log of a frigate
+      of seventy-two! Is there anyone who dines at the table of Sir Joshua
+      Reynolds round the corner that does not wish with all his heart that his
+      sister would sell her palette and buy a wine-glass or two with the
+      proceeds? Why, when we went to dinner at Sir Joshua's yesterday there were
+      not enough glasses to go round the table.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There never are&mdash;that is well known,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, nay; let us take to ourselves the reproof of Dr. Johnson to Mr.
+      Boswell when he complained, loud enough almost for Sir Joshua himself to
+      hear him, about the scarcity of service. 'Sir,' said Dr. Johnson, 'some
+      who have the privilege of sitting at this table, and you are one of them,
+      sir, will be wiser if they keep their ears open and their mouths shut than
+      they would if they had the means of drinking all that you are longing to
+      drink.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Boswell, in spite of the reproof, contrived to lurch from the table
+      with more wine than wisdom 'tween decks,&rdquo; remarked James.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He must have found a wine-glass,&rdquo; said Miss Susy Burney, who had been
+      quite silent but quite attentive to every word that had been spoken since
+      breakfast-time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And so the honour of Mrs. Reynolds's housekeeping is saved,&rdquo; said Dr.
+      Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, sir, is not Mr. Boswell a Scotsman?&rdquo; cried the irrepressible James.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is his lifelong sorrow, since he fancies it to be an insuperable
+      barrier between his idol, Dr. Johnson, and himself,&rdquo; replied his father.
+      &ldquo;But how does his Scotsmanship bear upon the wine-glass question?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, sir, without being versed in the subtleties of theology I make bold
+      to think that Father Adam did not suffer hunger until knives and forks
+      were invented,&rdquo; said James. &ldquo;Your drouthy Scot will drink straight from
+      the bottle if no beaker be at hand. Oh, why was not Mr. Garrick at Sir
+      Joshua's to rouse our spirits by his imitation of Mr. Boswell seeking for
+      a wine-glass&mdash;and after?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Boswell is too trivial a subject for Davy: I have seen him take off
+      Dr. Johnson mixing a bowl of punch until I was like to die of laughter. I
+      protest that when he came to the squeezing of the imaginary lemon, while
+      he cried out in the Doctor's broadest Lichfield, 'Who's for poonch?' I
+      could smell the acid juice,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney, and he laughed at the
+      recollection of Garrick's fooling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The naval man gave a resounding nautical smack to his thigh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is what 'tis to be a sailor,&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;I have had no chance of
+      seeing Mr. Garrick at his best. I should dearly like to hear him take off
+      Mr. Boswell when three sheets in the wind. Why was he not with us
+      yesterday?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Garrick himself has had a drinking bout on. He has been at the Wells
+      for the past fortnight,&rdquo; said his father.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>Ecce signum!</i>&rdquo; came a doleful voice from the door, and a little man
+      slowly put round the jamb a face bearing such an expression of piteous
+      nausea as caused everyone in the room&mdash;not even excepting Mrs. Burney&mdash;to
+      roar with laughter&mdash;uncontrollable laughter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the expression on the little man's face changed to one of surprised
+      indignation. He crept into the room and looked at every person therein
+      with a different expression on his face for each&mdash;a variation of his
+      original expression of disgust and disappointment mingled with doleful
+      reproof. It seemed as if it was not a single person who had entered the
+      room, but half a dozen persons&mdash;a whole doleful and disappointed
+      family coming upon an unsympathetic crew convulsed with hilarity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then he shook his head sadly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And these are the people who have just heard that I have been taking the
+      nauseous waters of Tunbridge Wells for a whole fortnight,&rdquo; and there was a
+      break in his voice. &ldquo;Oh, Friendship, art thou but a name? Oh, Sympathy,
+      art thou but a mask? Is the world of sentiment nothing more than a world
+      of shadows? Have all the sweet springs of compassion dried up, leaving us
+      nothing but the cataracts of chalybeate to nauseate the palate?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked round once more, and putting the tips of his fingers together,
+      glanced sadly up to the ceiling, then sighed and turned as if to leave the
+      room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, sir,&rdquo; cried Dr. Burney, &ldquo;I do not believe that the chalybeate
+      cataracts still flow: 'tis my firm belief, from the expression of your
+      face, that you have swallowed the whole spring&mdash;the Wells of
+      Tunbridge must have been dried up by you before you left&mdash;your face
+      betrays you. I vow that so chalybeate an expression could not be attained
+      by lesser means.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sir, you do me honour, and you have a larger faith in me than my own
+      physician,&rdquo; said the little man, brightening up somewhat. &ldquo;Would you
+      believe that he had the effrontery to accuse me of shirking the hourly
+      pailful that he prescribed for me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He had not seen you as we have, Mr. Garrick,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He accused me of spending my days making matches and making mischief in
+      the Assembly Rooms and only taking the waters by sips&mdash;me, sir, that
+      have so vivid a memory of Mr. Pope's immortal lines:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br />
+    </p>
+    <p class="indent15">
+      A little sipping is a dangerous tiling,
+    </p>
+    <p class="indent15">
+      Drink deep or taste not the chalybeate spring!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You were traduced, my friend&mdash;but tell us of the matches and the
+      mischief and we shall be the more firmly convinced of your integrity.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, sir; I give you my word that 'twas but the simplest of matches&mdash;not
+      by any means of the sort that yonder desperado fresh from the South Seas
+      applies to the touch-hole of one of his horrible ten-pounders when the
+      enemy's frigate has to be sunk&mdash;nay, a simple little match with no
+      more powder for it to burn than may be found on the wig of a gentleman of
+      fifty-two and on the face of a lady of forty-five&mdash;the one a gay
+      bachelor, t'other a ripe widow&mdash;' made for one another,' said I; and
+      where was the mischief in that? And if I ventured to broach the subject of
+      the appropriateness of the union of the twain, and to boast under the
+      inspiring influence of the chalybeate spring that I could bring it about,
+      is there anyone that will hint that I was not acting out of pure good
+      nature and a desire to make two worthy folk happy&mdash;as happy as
+      marriage can make any two&mdash;&mdash;-&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Give us their names, sir, and let us judge on that basis,&rdquo; said Dr.
+      Bumey.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have no desire to withhold them, my dear Doctor; for I want you to back
+      me up, and I am sure that&mdash;oh, Lord! here comes the man himself. For
+      the love of heaven, back me up, Doctor, and all will be well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, I will not be dragged by the hair of the head into any of your
+      plots, my friend,&rdquo; cried Burney. &ldquo;Nay, not I. I have some reputation to
+      maintain, good friend Garrick; you must play alone the part of Puck that
+      you have chosen for yourself this many a year. Think not that you will
+      induce me to study the character under you, and so thus&mdash;&mdash;-&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The manservant threw open the door of the room, announcing:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Kendal to wait upon you, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But by the time a small and rather rotund gentleman had been ushered into
+      the room, Mr. Garrick was apparently engaged in an animated conversation
+      with Miss Burney on the subject of the table-cover at which she was
+      working.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER II
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE visitor walked
+      with the short strut of the man who at least does not underrate his own
+      importance in the world. But he suggested just at the moment the man who
+      is extremely nervous lest he may not appear perfectly selfpossessed. There
+      was an air of bustle about him as he strutted into the room, saying:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dr. Burney, I am your servant, sir. I have done myself the honour to
+      visit you on a rather important piece of business.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sir, you have conferred honour upon me,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the gentleman seemed to become aware for the first time that there
+      were other people in the room; but it was with an air of reluctance that
+      he felt called on to greet the others.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mrs. Burney, I think,&rdquo; he said, bowing to that lady, &ldquo;and her estimable
+      family, I doubt not. Have I not had the privilege of meeting Mrs. Burney
+      at the house of&mdash;of my friend&mdash;my esteemed friend, Mrs. Barlowe?
+      And this gentleman of the Fleet&mdash;ha, to be sure I have heard that
+      there was a Lieutenant Burney of the Navy! And&mdash;gracious heavens! Mr.
+      Garrick!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Garrick had revealed himself from the recesses of Miss Burney's
+      work-basket. He, at any rate, was sufficiently self-possessed to pretend
+      to be vastly surprised. He raised both his hands, crying:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it possible that this is Mr. Kendal? But surely I left you at the
+      Wells no later than&mdash;now was it not the night before last? You were
+      the cynosure of the Assembly Rooms, sir, if I may make bold to say so. But
+      I could not look for you to pay attention to a poor actor when you were
+      receiving the attentions of the young, and, may I add without offence, the
+      fair? But no, sir; you will not find that I am the one to tell tales out
+      of school, though I doubt not you have received the congratulations of&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There you go, sir, just the same as the rest of them!&rdquo; cried the visitor.
+      &ldquo;Congratulations! felicitations! smiles of deep meaning from the ladies,
+      digs in the ribs with suggestive winks from the gentlemen&mdash;people
+      whose names I could not recall&mdash;whom I'll swear I had never spoken to
+      in my life&mdash;that is why I left the Wells as hastily as if a tipstaff
+      had been after me&mdash;that is why I am here this morning, after posting
+      every inch of the way, to consult Dr. Burney as to my position.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I protest, sir, that I do not quite take you,&rdquo; said Mr. Garrick, with the
+      most puzzled expression on his face that ever man wore. &ldquo;Surely, sir, your
+      position as a man of honour is the most enviable one possible to imagine!
+      Mrs. Nash&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There you blurt out the name, Mr. Garrick, and that is what I had no
+      intention of doing, even when laying my case before Dr. Burney, who is a
+      man of the world, and whom I trust to advise me what course I should
+      pursue.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I ask your pardon, sir,&rdquo; said Mr. Garrick humbly; &ldquo;but if the course you
+      mean to pursue has aught to do with the pursuit of so charming a lady, and
+      a widow to boot&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How in the name of all that's reasonable did that gossip get about?&rdquo;
+       cried the visitor. &ldquo;I give you my word that I have not been pursuing the
+      lady&mdash;I met her at the Wells for the first time a fortnight ago&mdash;pursuit
+      indeed!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, sir, I did not suggest that the pursuit was on your part,&rdquo; said
+      Garrick in a tone of irresistible flattery. &ldquo;But 'tis well known that as
+      an object of pursuit of the fair ones, the name of Mr. Kendal has been for
+      ten years past acknowledged without a peer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The gentleman held up a deprecating hand, but the smile that was on his
+      face more than neutralized his suggestion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, Mr. Garrick, I am but a simple country gentleman,&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;To be
+      sure, I have been singled out more than once for favours that might have
+      turned the head of an ordinary mortal&mdash;one of them had a fortune and
+      was the toast of the district; another&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you will excuse me, gentlemen, the Miss Burneys and myself will take
+      our leave of you: we have household matters in our hands,&rdquo; said Mrs.
+      Burney, making a sign to Fanny and her sister, and going toward the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have I said too much, madam? If so, I pray of you to keep my secret,&rdquo;
+       cried the visitor. &ldquo;The truth is that I have confidence in the advice of
+      Dr. Burney as a man of the world.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I fear that to be a man of the world is to be of the flesh and the devil
+      as well,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Augmented qualifications for giving advice on an affair of the Wells,&rdquo;
+       said Garrick slyly to the naval lieutenant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will not forget, Doctor, that Mr. Thrale's carriage is appointed to
+      call for you within the hour,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney over her shoulder as she
+      left the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny and her sister were able to restrain themselves for the few minutes
+      necessary to fly up the narrow stairs, but the droll glance that Mr.
+      Garrick had given them as they followed their mother, wellnigh made them
+      disgrace themselves by bursting out within the hearing of their father's
+      visitor. But when they reached the parlour at the head of the stairs and
+      had thrown themselves in a paroxysm of laughter on the sofa, Mrs. Burney
+      reproved them with some gravity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is an instance, if one were needed, of the unsettling influence of
+      Mr. Garrick,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;He has plainly been making a fool of that
+      conceited gentleman, and it seems quite likely that he will persuade your
+      father to back him up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not think that Mr. Garrick could improve greatly upon Nature's
+      handiwork in regard to that poor Mr. Kendal,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;But what would
+      life be without Mr. Garrick?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It would be more real, I trust,&rdquo; said her stepmother. &ldquo;He would have us
+      believe that life is a comedy, and that human beings are like the puppets
+      which Mr. Foote put on his stage for the diversion of the town a few years
+      ago.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny Burney became grave; the longer she was living in the world, the
+      more impressed was she becoming with the idea that life was a puppet-show;
+      only when the puppets began to dance on their wires in a draught of wind
+      from another world the real comedy began. She felt that as an interpreter
+      of life Mr. Garrick had no equal on the stage or off. On the stage he
+      could do no more than interpret other people's notions of life, and these,
+      except in the case of Shakespeare, were, she thought, mostly feeble; but
+      when he was off the stage&mdash;well, Sir Joshua Reynolds had told her
+      what that queer person, Dr. Goldsmith, had written about Garrick&mdash;the
+      truest criticism Garrick had ever received: &ldquo;'Twas only that when he was
+      off he was acting.&rdquo; She knew what she herself owed to Garrick from the
+      time she was nine years old, when he had accustomed her and her sister to
+      look for him at their house almost daily; she knew that whatever sense of
+      comedy she possessed&mdash;and she looked on it as a precious possession&mdash;was
+      to be attributed to the visits of Garrick. Every time she looked at her
+      carefully locked desk in that room at the top of the house in St. Martin's
+      Street, which had once been Sir Isaac Newton's observatory, she felt that
+      without the tuition in comedy that she had received at the hands of Mr.
+      Garrick, the contents of that desk would have been very different. Her
+      stepmother, however, had no information on this point; she had lived all
+      her life among the good tradespeople of Lynn, and had known nothing of Mr.
+      Garrick until Dr. Burney had married her and brought her to look after his
+      children, which Fanny knew she had done faithfully, according to her
+      lights, in London.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny kept silent on the subject of Mr. Garrick's fooling, while Mrs.
+      Burney bent with great gravity over the cutting out of a pinafore for
+      Fanny's little niece&mdash;also a Burney; and every now and again there
+      came from the closed room downstairs the sound of the insisting voice of
+      the visitor. She hoped that Mr. Garrick would re-enact the scene for her;
+      she had confidence that it would lose nothing by its being re-enacted by
+      Mr. Garrick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER III
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> SUPPOSE that I
+      must e'en follow in the wake of the womenkind,&rdquo; said Lieutenant Burney,
+      making an extremely slow move in the direction of the door, when the door
+      had been closed upon his stepmother and his sisters.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is there any need?&rdquo; asked Garrick. &ldquo;It seems to me that in such a case as
+      this which Mr. Kendal promises to propound to your father, His Majesty's
+      Navy should be represented. In all matters bearing upon a delicate <i>affaire
+      de cour</i> surely a naval man should be present to act as assessor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      'Mr. Kendal looked puzzled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I fail to take your meaning, sir,&rdquo; said he, after a pause; he was still
+      rubbing his chin with a fore-finger, when Garrick cried:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, sir, surely the advantage of the counsel of an officer trained to
+      navigate femininity in the shape of a ship, is apparent: a ship, even
+      though a three-decker ready to fire a broadside of a hundred guns, is
+      invariably alluded to as 'she,'&rdquo; said he, airily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Such an one must surely be the most formidable piece of femininity in the
+      world,&rdquo; said Mr. Kendal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By no means,&rdquo; said Garrick. &ldquo;During my career as the manager of a
+      playhouse I have had to face worse. Still, the training of a naval officer
+      in dealing with feminine craft&mdash;at times off a lee shore, and often
+      during a storm at sea&mdash;nothing to be compared to the tempests in our
+      green-room&mdash;is certain to be of value. You will stay, Lieutenant
+      Burney, if it please you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should be most unwilling to obtrude upon your council, sir,&rdquo; said young
+      Burney, &ldquo;unless you are convinced that my humble services&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have been among the savages of the South Seas, and you are acquainted
+      with all the rules of chasing and capturing prizes, all of the feminine
+      gender&mdash;I allude to your sloops and frigates and catamarans&mdash;I
+      take it for granted that a catamaran is as feminine in its ways as any
+      wherry that floats,&rdquo; cried Garrick. Then he turned to their visitor, who
+      was looking more puzzled than ever.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may reckon yourself fortunate in the presence of our young friend,
+      sir,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;So far as I can gather this is a case of chase, with a
+      possible capture of a prize. I venture to think that in these days a
+      gentleman of family and fortune, like yourself, is something of a prize,
+      Mr. Kendal.&rdquo; This was language that contained nothing to puzzle anyone,
+      the visitor perceived. His face brightened, and he waved young Burney to a
+      seat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I take it that Mr. Garrick knows what he is talking about,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;And
+      though it was truly your father to whom I came for counsel, I doubt not
+      that you will take my part, should the worst come to the worst.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Which means, should the lady come to the gentleman, Mr. Burney,&rdquo; said
+      Garrick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pay out your yarn, sir: I gather that you are still to the windward of
+      your enemy, and that is the position which the books tell us we should
+      manoeuvre for,&rdquo; cried the nautical assessor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Burney sat silently by, he had no mind to join in the fooling of the
+      others. Dr. Burney had never in his life lost a sense of his own dignity.
+      He had been a church organist for thirty years, and no man who has had
+      such an experience of the control of an instrument of such superlative
+      dignity could be otherwise than dignified. He had never once run off on a
+      keyboard a single phrase of &ldquo;The Beggar's Opera.&rdquo; Even Handel's &ldquo;Ruddier
+      than the Cherry,&rdquo; with Mr. Gay's ticklish rhymed line about &ldquo;Kidlings
+      blithe and merry,&rdquo; he only played apologetically, allowing it to be
+      clearly understood that Mr. Handel and Mr. Gay divided between them the
+      responsibility for so frivolous a measure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He remained dignified and silent while Garrick and James carried on their
+      fooling. Only a short time before he had occasion to reprove the lack of
+      dignity on the part of his important patroness, Mrs. Thrale, the wife of
+      the wealthy brewer, in having put herself behind Signor Piozzi while he
+      was singing a sentimental canzone and mimicked his southern fervour of
+      expression. Mrs. Thrale had taken his reproof in good part at the time;
+      but no one&mdash;least of all Mrs. Thrale herself&mdash;could have
+      foreseen that her contrition should extend so far as to cause her to marry
+      the singer on the death of Mr. Thrale.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To be brief, sir,&rdquo; said Mr. Kendal, addressing, not Dr. Burney, whom he
+      had come to consult, but Mr. Garrick, who had shown himself to be much
+      more sympathetic. &ldquo;To be brief, I had gone to the Wells as my custom has
+      been for the past twenty years. I went honestly to drink the waters, not
+      making it an excuse, as so many do, for indulging in the gaieties, or, I
+      may add, the intrigues, of the Assembly Rooms. I was civil, as I hoped, to
+      everyone, but, I give you my word, no more so to Mrs. Nash than any other
+      lady.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not doubt that you believe this, sir,&rdquo; said Garrick, with an
+      indulgent wave of the hand; &ldquo;but when a lady has eyes only for one
+      gentleman, she is apt to place a construction upon the simplest of his
+      civilities beyond that assigned to it by ordinary people; but pray
+      proceed, sir. I will only add that it was quite well known at the Wells
+      that the lady regarded you with the tenderest of emotions. Had she not
+      boldly said to Lady&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash; no; I dare not mention her
+      name; but her ladyship is invariably what the Italians term <i>simpatica</i>
+      in regard to the tender affairs of her sisters&mdash;and it was to her
+      that Mrs. Nash confided her secret&mdash;referring to you as bearing a
+      striking resemblance to the Apollo Belvedere, hoping that her doing so
+      would not cause anyone to accuse her of Pagan leanings.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it possible! The poor lady! poor lady! But I was not to blame. I can
+      justly acquit myself of all blame in this unhappy affair,&rdquo; said Mr.
+      Kendal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are quite right, sir; is it a man's fault that he should bear a
+      striking likeness to the Apollo&mdash;I doubt not that the resemblance has
+      caused you some annoyance at various times of your life, Mr. Kendal,&rdquo; said
+      Garrick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never, sir, never&mdash;at least&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; he took a step to one
+      side that allowed of his having a full-length view of his reflection in
+      the narrow mirror that filled up the space between the windows; and the
+      result of his scrutiny of the picture was certainly not displeasing to
+      him. He boldly put forward a leg, and then quite unconscious, as anyone
+      could see, struck an attitude, though not quite that of the Apollo
+      Belvedere. Then he smirked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A leg like yours, Mr. Kendal, to say nothing of the poise of your head,
+      is a great responsibility,&rdquo; said Garrick seriously. &ldquo;The poor lady!&mdash;poor
+      ladies!&mdash;I confess that I have heard of others. And she acknowledged
+      to you that&mdash;that&mdash;oh, that most delicate of secrets!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never to me, sir&mdash;never in my hearing, I give you my word,&rdquo; cried
+      the man emphatically. &ldquo;Nay, I did not so much as suspect it. The first
+      intimation that I had of the matter was when, on Monday morning last&mdash;only
+      three days ago&mdash;Captain Kelly&mdash;the boisterous Irishman&mdash;clapt
+      me on the shoulder and almost shouted out his congratulations in my ear.
+      When I forced him to mention the name of the lady, he ridiculed my denial&mdash;his
+      forefinger in my ribs&mdash;painful as well as undignified. Who is Captain
+      Kelly, that he should subject me to his familiarities? But if he was
+      undignified, I flatter myself that I was not so. 'Sir, you presume,' I
+      said, and walked on, leaving this vulgar fellow roaring with laughter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Psha! Kelly is a nobody,&rdquo; said Garrick. &ldquo;You should not have allowed
+      yourself to be discomposed by such as he.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nor did I,&rdquo; cried the other. &ldquo;But what was I to think when I had advanced
+      no more than a dozen paces, and found my hand grasped warmly by Sir John
+      Dingle?&mdash;you know him, Mr. Garrick&mdash;I have seen him in your
+      company&mdash;more congratulations&mdash;the same attitude, sir. And then
+      up marches Mr. Sheridan&mdash;leaving his handsome wife&mdash;ah, I fear
+      that I joined with all Bath in being in love with the lovely Miss Linley&mdash;and
+      Mr. Sheridan was wellnigh affronted at my denial. But that was not all. Up
+      comes Mrs. Cholmondeley in her chair and tapped for the men to set her
+      down when she saw me&mdash;up went the roof and up went her head, with a
+      shrill cry of 'Kendal, you rogue! to tell everyone at the Wells save only
+      myself that Benedick is to be a married man!' And before she had finished
+      her ridicule of my denial, up struts Mrs. Thrale, her footman behind her
+      with her spaniel, and down she sinks in a curtsey, fitted only for a
+      special night in the Rooms, and her 'Happy man!' came with a flick of her
+      fan; and she, too, named Mrs. Nash! And that was not the last&mdash;I saw
+      them hurrying up to me from all sides&mdash;ladies with smiles, and
+      gentlemen with smirks&mdash;fingers twitching for my ribs&mdash;down they
+      flowed upon me! I ask you, Lieutenant Burney, as a naval gentleman, and I
+      am glad to have the opportunity of hearing your opinion&mdash;I ask you,
+      if I was not justified in turning about and hastening away&mdash;what you
+      nautical gentlemen term 'cutting my cable '?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed, sir; if I could believe that you gave the lady no encouragement,
+      I would say that&mdash;that&mdash;but no one will convince me that upon
+      some occasion&mdash;it may be forgotten by you&mdash;such men of fashion
+      as yourself soon forget these things, I have heard, though the unhappy
+      lady treasures them as golden memories&mdash;I say upon some occasion you
+      may have given the Widow Nash encouragement. You have your reputation as a
+      sly rogue to maintain, Mr. Kendal,&rdquo; said young Burney gravely, as though
+      he were a lawyer being seriously consulted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fore Gad, sir, I gave her no encouragement,&rdquo; cried Mr. Kendal. &ldquo;I have
+      ever been most cautious, I swear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then the greater shame for you, sir,&rdquo; said Garrick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The man whom he addressed looked in amazement first at Garrick, then at
+      Lieutenant Burney&mdash;Dr. Burney, whom he had come to consult, was
+      smiling quite unnoticed in a corner. His part, apparently, was no more
+      than that of the looker-on at a comedy. His presence was ignored by the
+      others.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The more shame&mdash;the more&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; began the visitor. &ldquo;I
+      protest that I scarcely take your meaning, Mr. Garrick.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My meaning is plain, sir,&rdquo; said Garrick firmly, almost sternly. &ldquo;I affirm
+      that it lay with you, when you perceived that the lady was so deeply
+      enamoured of you&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I did not perceive it&mdash;you have my word for it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, sir,&rdquo; said Garrick, with the shrug of a Frenchman, which he had
+      studied for some months in Paris&mdash;Mr. Garrick and Lord Chesterfield
+      had alone mastered the art. &ldquo;Ah, sir, we are all men of the world here.
+      'Twere idle for you to pretend that a gentleman with the figure of the
+      Belvedere Apollo and the leg of&mdash;of&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; he turned to young
+      Burney&mdash; &ldquo;You have seen the proud-stepping figure-heads of many ships
+      of the line, Mr. Burney,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;prithee help me out in my search for&mdash;for&mdash;the
+      name I am in search of.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;H'm, let me see&mdash;something wooden with a leg to be proud of?&rdquo; said
+      the naval gentleman, considering the matter very earnestly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Zounds, sir, I did not make it a condition that it should be a wooden
+      leg,&rdquo; cried Garrick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have seen more than one Admiral of the Fleet mighty proud of a wooden
+      leg, sir,&rdquo; said Burney. &ldquo;But this is beside the question, which I take to
+      be the responsibility of our good friend here&mdash;I hope I don't
+      presume, Mr. Kendal&mdash;for kindling, albeit unconsciously, so far as he
+      was concerned&mdash;that sacred flame in the breast of&mdash;to name only
+      one out of a score&mdash;the lady whose name he mentioned.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are with me heart and soul, as I felt sure you would be, Mr. Burney;
+      as a naval officer of judgment and experience,&rdquo; cried Garrick, &ldquo;and so,
+      sir&mdash;&rdquo; he turned to their visitor&mdash; &ldquo;I cannot doubt that you
+      will comport yourself as a gentleman of honour in this affair. Do not
+      allow your yielding to the natural impulse to run away to weigh too
+      heavily upon you. If your act should cause you to be referred to with
+      reprobation, not to say scorn, by the ladies or gentlemen of fashion who
+      are certain to espouse the cause of the lady, your subsequent conduct will
+      show them that they mistook your character. And I promise you that should
+      you receive a challenge from any of the lady's admirers&mdash;those whose
+      prayers she rejected because her heart was set on a gentleman who was
+      worthy of her choice&mdash;I think you can afford to ignore them, having
+      won the prize. Ah, sir, is there not a poet who says that every man that
+      lives has a good angel and a bad one contending for dominion over him?
+      That is the truth, Mr. Kendal, and I see that your good angel is none
+      other than the lady whose name I reckon too sacred to pass our lips at
+      such a time as this. Ah, sir, think of her, and let your mind go back to
+      the days of your happy boyhood, and say if the mother at whose knees you
+      knelt did not resemble her. The affection of a son for his mother&mdash;let
+      that plead for the lady who esteems you with more than a mother's love.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He had laid his hand on the poor gentleman's shoulder, and was looking
+      into his face, while the tears stood in his eyes, and his voice broke more
+      than once.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And there sat Dr. Burney wiping his eyes, and Lieutenant Burney blubbering
+      away like any child&mdash;the two accessories to the actor's farce could
+      not avoid yielding to the-influence of his unparalleled art. Though they
+      were in his secret, he made fools of them as easily as he made a fool of
+      the poor gentleman who was presumably his victim. And they had no feeling
+      of being ashamed of yielding to his powers. He could do anything that he
+      pleased with them. He could do anything he pleased with the multitudes
+      before whom he acted. He was the master of their emotions for the time
+      being. He played upon their passions as though every passion was a puppet
+      and the strings in his own hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER IV
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE scene ended by
+      Mr. Garrick's victim groping through his tears for Mr. Garrick's hand. He
+      grasped it emotionally, and though for some moments he was too greatly
+      overcome to be able to utter a word, yet at last he managed to blurt out
+      with affecting incoherence a few phrases.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Say no more&mdash;say no more, sir,&rdquo; he muttered. &ldquo;I have a heart&mdash;a
+      heart! I give you my word, whether you believe me or not, that I had no
+      notion&mdash;but you have shown me what 'tis to be a woman. Oh, sir, there
+      is no sweeter sex in the world! Deception! how a man's own heart may
+      deceive him&mdash;ay, up to a certain point&mdash;but then&mdash;ah, you
+      have taught me&mdash;but are you sure that the lady&mdash;what&mdash;have
+      we not been going ahead too fast? What&mdash;what; are you convinced?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may take my word for it, sir,&rdquo; replied Garrick. &ldquo;There are signs that
+      all who run may read. What, do you suppose that all those persons of
+      quality whose names you mentioned just now as having offered you their
+      felicitations&mdash;do you suppose that they could all be in error?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course not&mdash;they must have seen&mdash;well, more than I saw,&rdquo;
+       said the man. &ldquo;Matrimony! Lud! if an angel had come down to tell me that I
+      should be contemplating such a change of life&mdash;and at my time of life
+      too!&mdash;I should have&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What an angel may fail to convince a man of, a woman may succeed in
+      doing, Mr. Kendal,&rdquo; said Garrick sententiously. &ldquo;But do not talk of your
+      time of life as if you were an old or even a middle-aged man, sir. To do
+      so were to make Dr. Burney and myself feel patriarchs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The mention of Dr. Burney seemed to cause the man to recollect how it was
+      he came to be in Dr. Burney's house. He turned to Burney, saying:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear sir, I pray that you will look on my visit with lenient eyes. I
+      admit that I came hitherto be advised by you&mdash;my friend, Mr. Fulke
+      Greville, holds your opinion in the highest esteem, as do I, sir; and it
+      was actually on my mind to ask you if you thought it would be wiser for me
+      to go abroad for a year or two, or simply to seek some place of retirement
+      at home&mdash;say, Cornwall or the Hebrides&mdash;I gather from the
+      account of Dr. Johnson's tour thither that there are many places difficult
+      of access in the Hebrides&mdash;that was on my mind, Doctor, I blush to
+      acknowledge, so greatly overcome was I by what had happened at the Wells.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, with what great ease a man may slam the door that shuts out happiness
+      from his life for evermore!&rdquo; remarked Garrick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Even now&mdash;even now I feel timid,&rdquo; said Mr. Kendal thoughtfully, and,
+      when he had found which pocket his handkerchief was in, wiping some dew
+      from his brow. &ldquo;The truth is, Doctor, that I have allowed some people to
+      assume that I am but forty-seven years old, while as a matter of fact I
+      have been forty-eight for some time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For some years?&rdquo; asked young Burney, who did not know when he should keep
+      silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For some months, sir&mdash;only for some months, I give you my word.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your deception in this matter could only have added to your reputation
+      for accuracy,&rdquo; said Garrick coolly. &ldquo;For I vow that were you to confess
+      that you were forty-eight, you would find none to believe you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The gentleman's eyes twinkled, he pursed out his lips, and once again
+      manoeuvred to get a full-length view of himself in the long mirror. He put
+      out his right leg and assumed the attitude of a dancing master giving the
+      <i>pas</i> for the <i>minuet de cour</i>.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, well,&rdquo; he cried, &ldquo;if that be your opinion&mdash;and I happen to
+      know that 'tis shared by others&mdash;it might not be unwise to allow the
+      assumption, erroneous though it be, to continue. We will not undeceive the
+      good folk. And you do not think that a bachelor of forty-eight&mdash;What
+      is the name of that play of Mr. Sheridan's that took the town a year ago?&mdash;ah,
+      <i>The School for Scandal</i>&mdash;you are sure that our friends will not
+      call me&mdash;What was the gentleman's name?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No one who knows how excellent are your principles will think of you
+      either as Charles or Joseph, Mr. Kendal,&rdquo; said Garrick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no; but the one who was in my mind was neither of the brothers. I was
+      thinking of&mdash;was it not Sir Peter Teazle?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Garrick as well as Burney laughed heartily, for the man at that moment
+      suggested by his attitude and expression the Sir Peter Teazle of Kina, the
+      actor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Make your mind easy on that score, sir,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney. &ldquo;It is not your
+      purpose to wed so skittish a young person as Lady Teazle. That was where
+      Sir Peter showed his folly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no; Mrs. Nash is more mature, certainly, than Mrs. Abington looked in
+      the part,&rdquo; said Mr. Kendal confidently, and Lieutenant Burney was about to
+      agree with him boisterously, but Garrick did not give him a chance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is none that will not commend your choice, Mr. Kendal&mdash;ay,
+      sir, and look on you with envy as well,&rdquo; he cried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There can be no doubt about it,&rdquo; said Mr. Kendal doubtfully. &ldquo;The widow
+      Nash is a monstrous fine woman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Monstrous, I doubt not,&rdquo; put in young Burney, now that he had the chance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All that I am uneasy about is the interpretation that she may put upon
+      your sudden flight,&rdquo; said Garrick. &ldquo;You have, you will readily allow, sir,
+      placed her in a somewhat difficult position at the Wells. While everyone
+      who is anyone has been offering you congratulations upon the match, and a
+      double portion to the lady, strange inquiries may be made as to your
+      disappearance from the Wells; and she may not be able to give a
+      satisfactory explanation at a moment's notice.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Egad! I never thought of that, sir,&rdquo; said Mr. Kendal, after a pause. &ldquo;I
+      fear that I have placed her in a very awkward position.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay, sir; and the consequences may be that she will be snapped up by some
+      adventurous person before you can put your fate to the test,&rdquo; said the
+      naval man, raising a warning finger. &ldquo;I have heard of ladies throwing
+      themselves into the arms of the next comer out of sheer chagrin at being
+      disappointed by the man on whom they had set their affections.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is a possibility that should not be neglected,&rdquo; said Garrick. &ldquo;But
+      it was only on Monday that you fled. By rapid posting you may yet prevent
+      such a calamity.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was beginning to tire of his game now that he had succeeded so well in
+      it and so easily. The fooling of the man who had so completely succumbed
+      to his art had no further interest for him. He only wanted to get rid of
+      him. He was as capricious and as fickle as a child over the toys of its
+      nursery.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall lose no moment, be assured,&rdquo; said Mr. Kendal. &ldquo;I may still be in
+      time. My hope in this direction is increased when I remember that the lady
+      has been a widow for some years&mdash;to be exact, without being
+      uncomplimentary, nine years. I remember when Mr. Nash died. 'Twas of
+      pleurisy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do not reckon too confidently on that, sir,&rdquo; said young Burney. &ldquo;Nine
+      years have not passed since she faced the company at the Wells, every one
+      of which was surely pointing at her and asking in mute eloquence, 'What
+      has become of Mr. Kendal?' But by posting without delay you may yet
+      retrieve your error. Still, I confess to you that I have known of a lady
+      who, out of sheer impatience at the delay of a lover whom she had hoped to
+      espouse, married his rival after the lapse of twenty-four hours&mdash;ay,
+      and when the belated gentleman arrived just after the ceremony, he
+      furnished the wedding party with a succulent feast. She was the Queen of
+      one of the islands that we visited in the company of Captain Cook, and the
+      cockswain of our galley kept the pickled hand of the belated lover for
+      many a day&mdash;the very hand which he had designed to offer the lady.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This simple and affecting narrative proves more eloquently than any
+      phrases of mine could possibly do how a man may miss the happiness of his
+      life by a hair's breadth,&rdquo; said Garrick. &ldquo;And the lesson will not be lost
+      upon you, I am certain, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lud, Mr. Garrick, you do not mean to suggest that&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That the lady may make a meal off you on your late return, sir? Nay, Mr.
+      Kendal. The Wells are still the Wells, not the South Seas; but on the
+      whole I am disposed to believe that the scheme of revenge of the woman
+      scorned is fiercer, though perhaps not, at first sight, so primeval, in
+      the region of Chalybeate Waters than in a cannibal island of the South
+      Seas. Therefore&mdash;there is no time to be lost. Fly to your charmer,
+      sir, and throw yourself at her feet. She may be thinking over some
+      punishment for your having placed her in a false position for some days;
+      but do not mind that. You can always console yourself with the reflection
+      that a rod in pickle is much more satisfactory than a hand in pickle. Fly,
+      my dear friend, fly; every moment is precious. Take my word for it, joy
+      awaits you at the end of your journey.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Journeys end in lovers meeting,'&rdquo; remarked Dr. Burney, with a slight
+      suggestion of the setting of the words of the lyric by his old master, Dr.
+      Arne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At this moment a servant entered the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Streatham carriage is at the door, sir,&rdquo; he announced.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Burney rose from his chair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am forced to leave you, sir,&rdquo; he said to Mr. Kendal. &ldquo;But really there
+      is naught further to consult on at present, and I know that you are
+      impatient&mdash;it is but natural&mdash;to fly to the side of your
+      charmer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am all impatience, sir; but with what words can I express my obligation
+      to you, Doctor, for the benefit of your counsel?&rdquo; cried Mr. Kendal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Burney smiled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, dear sir, I am but the lessee of the theatre where the comedy has
+      been played,&rdquo; said he; and he had good reason for feeling that he had
+      defined with accuracy the position that he occupied. But Mr. Kendal was
+      thinking too much about himself and the position he occupied to appreciate
+      such <i>nuances</i>.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I knew that I was safe in coming to a friend of Mr. Greville,&rdquo; he said.
+      &ldquo;I care not if, as you suggest, you have become Mr. Garrick's successor at
+      Drury Lane, though I thought that Mr. Sheridan&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Zounds, sir, you are never going to wait to discuss theatre matters,&rdquo;
+       cried Garrick. &ldquo;Dr. Burney has been exercising his powers of oratory in
+      vain upon you for this half hour if you tarry even to thank him. Post,
+      sir, post at once to Tunbridge Wells, and send Dr. Burney your thanks when
+      you have put the momentous question to the lady. Go, sir, without the
+      pause of a moment, and good luck attend you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good luck attend you! Keep up your heart, sir: the lady may refuse you
+      after all,&rdquo; said young Burney; but the poor gentleman who was being
+      hurried away was too much flurried to be able to grasp the young man's
+      innuendo, though one could see by the look that came to his face that he
+      had an uneasy impression that Lieutenant Burney's good wishes had not been
+      happily expressed. The great thing, however, was that he was at the other
+      side of the door, calling out his obligations to everyone, and striving to
+      shake hands with them all at once and yet preserve the security of his
+      hat, which he had tucked under his arm. So excited was he that he was only
+      restrained at the last moment from mounting the Thrales' carriage which
+      was awaiting Dr. Burney, and even when his mistake was explained to him,
+      he took off his hat to the splendid footman who had guarded the door of
+      the vehicle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the room where the comedy had been played, Garrick and Lieutenant
+      Burney had thrown themselves into chairs with roars of laughter, when Dr.
+      Burney returned from the hall, carrying his hat and cane. He was scarcely
+      smiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have played a pretty prank upon an inoffensive gentleman, the pair of
+      you!&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;I am ashamed that my house has been used by you for so
+      base a purpose! The poor gentleman!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Psha! my dear Doctor, make your mind easy; the lady will teach that
+      coxcomb a lesson that will be of advantage to him for the rest of his
+      life,&rdquo; said Garrick. &ldquo;He has been the laughingstock of the Wells for the
+      past fortnight, and no one laughed louder than the Widow Nash. She will
+      bundle him out of her presence before he has had time to rise from his
+      marrow-bones&mdash;he does not find the process a rapid one, I assure you.
+      Oh, he was her <i>bete noire</i> even when he was most civil to her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And it was you who concocted that plot of getting all your friends&mdash;Mrs.
+      Cholmondeley, Mrs. Thrale and the rest&mdash;to make a fool of him,
+      driving him away from the Wells to encounter a more irresistible pair of
+      mocking demons in this room!&rdquo; said Burney. &ldquo;You cannot deny it, my friend,
+      I know your tricks but too well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I swear to you that I had no hope of encountering him in this house, my
+      dear Doctor,&rdquo; said Garrick. &ldquo;I give you my word that I had laid my plans
+      quite differently. My plot was a far more elaborate one, and Polly
+      Cholmondeley had agreed to take part in it, as well as Dick Sheridan. They
+      will be disappointed to learn that it has miscarried. Who could guess that
+      he should come to you of all men in the world, Doctor? He has never been
+      one of your intimates.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only when I was living with Mr. Greville had we more than a superficial
+      acquaintance,&rdquo; replied Burney. &ldquo;But that does not make me the less ashamed
+      of having lent myself to your nefarious project. And you, James, you threw
+      yourself with gusto into the fooling of the unhappy man&mdash;and woman
+      too&mdash;and woman too, I repeat.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pray do not distress yourself on her account, Doctor. She will send him
+      off with a flea in his ear by to-morrow night, and she will take care to
+      pose as the insulted widow of Mr. Nash, whose memory is dear to her,&rdquo; said
+      Garrick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will she, indeed?&rdquo; said Burney. &ldquo;David Garrick, you are the greatest
+      actor that has ever lived in England&mdash;probably in the world&mdash;but
+      you are a poor comedian compared with such as are at work upon our daily
+      life: we call them Circumstance, and Accident, and Coincidence. You know
+      the couplet, I doubt not:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br />
+    </p>
+    <p class="indent15">
+      ' Men are the sport of circumstances when
+    </p>
+    <p class="indent15">
+      The circumstances seem the sport of men.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      You have sounded the depths of human impulses, so far as your plummet
+      allows you, and womankind seems to you an open book&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An illuminated missal, with the prayers done in gold and the Lessons for
+      the day in the most roseate tint, Doctor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And the Responses all of a kind&mdash;the same in one book as another?
+      But I make bold to believe, my friend, that every woman is a separate
+      volume, of which only one copy has been printed; and, moreover, that every
+      separate volume of woman is sealed, so that anyone who fancies he knows
+      all that is bound up between the covers, when he has only glanced at the
+      binding, makes a mistake.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Admirably put, sir, and, I vow, with fine philosophy,&rdquo; said Garrick. &ldquo;But
+      what imports this nomination of a woman at the present moment, Doctor?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Its import is that you are over sanguine in your assurance that Mrs.
+      Nash, widow, will reject Mr. Kendal, bachelor, when he offers her his hand
+      after a dusty journey; and so good day to you, David Garrick, and I pray
+      you to spend the rest of the day in the study of the history of those
+      women who have opened the leaves of their lives a little way before the
+      eyes of mankind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He had left the room and was within the waiting carriage and driving away
+      before his son remarked:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Garrick, it seems to me that my good father has spoken the wisest
+      words that you or I have heard to-day or for many a day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And i' faith, James, it seems to me that that remark of yours is the
+      second wisest that has been uttered in this room,&rdquo; said Garrick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He went away without a further word&mdash;without even taking his leave of
+      the two young women and their stepmother, who herself had been a widow
+      before she had married Dr. Burney. He had once believed that nothing a
+      woman&mdash;young or old&mdash;could do would surprise him; for some
+      reason or other he was not now quite so confident as he had been. But he
+      certainly did not think that one of the greatest surprises of the century
+      should be due to the demure young woman who seemed the commonplace
+      daughter of a very ordinary household, and who at the moment of his
+      departure was darning a small hole in a kitchen table-cloth, under the
+      superintendence of her admirable stepmother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER V
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>N the course of
+      the morning Esther, the married daughter of the Bumey family, called at
+      the house in St. Martin's Street. Esther, or as she was usually alluded to
+      by her sisters, Hetty or Hettina, was handsome and accomplished. She had
+      been married for some years to her cousin, Charles Rousseau Burney, who
+      was a musician, and they lived and enjoyed living in an atmosphere of
+      music. Her father took care that she was never likely to be asphyxiated;
+      their atmosphere would never become attenuated so long as they lived, as
+      they did, close to St. Martin's Street. He was well aware of the fact that
+      his Hetty's duets with her husband&mdash;&ldquo;matrimonial duets&rdquo; they were
+      called by Fanny in some of her letters&mdash;and also with her sister
+      Charlotte, served to attract many distinguished visitors and profitable
+      patrons to his house; he never forgot that profitable patrons and
+      patronesses are always attracted by distinguished visitors. When one finds
+      oneself in the company of distinguished people, one naturally feels a
+      distinguished person also.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Moreover, Dr. Burney knew perfectly well that when ambitious patrons and
+      patronesses were made aware of the success which he had achieved in
+      respect of his daughters, they were all ready to implore of him to spare
+      some of his valuable time to give lessons to themselves, seeing no reason
+      why, with his assistance, they should not reach the level of his two
+      musical daughters. He conducted his teaching on the principle which brings
+      fortunes to the Parisian modiste, who takes good care that her mannequins
+      are good-looking and of a fine figure, knowing that the visitors to the
+      showrooms have no doubt, no matter how little Nature has done for their
+      own features or figures, that in the robes of the mannequins they will
+      appear equally fascinating.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The adoption of this system in the Burney household operated extremely
+      well, and Dr. Burney had for several years enjoyed the proceeds of his
+      cultivation of the musical tastes of the most influential clientèle in
+      London. In addition, the greatest singers in Europe, knowing that there
+      was always an influential <i>assistance</i> to be found at Dr. Burney's
+      little concerts in St. Martin's Street, were greatly pleased to contribute
+      to the entertainment, for love, what they were in the habit of receiving
+      large sums for from an impresario. Those Italian operatic artists most
+      notorious for the extravagance of their demands when appearing in public,
+      were pushing each other aside, so to speak, to be allowed to sing at Dr.
+      Burney's, and really upon more than one occasion the contest between the
+      generosity of a pair of the most distinguished of these singers must have
+      been somewhat embarrassing to Dr. Burney. They were clearly singing
+      against each other; and one of them, who invariably received fifty guineas
+      for every contribution she made to a programme in public, insisted on
+      singing no fewer than five songs, &ldquo;all for love&rdquo; (and to prove her
+      superiority to her rival), upon a certain occasion at the Burneys'; so
+      that really the little company ran a chance of being suffocated beneath
+      the burden of flowers, as it were&mdash;the never-ending <i>fioriture</i>
+      of these generous artists&mdash;and Dr. Burney found himself in the
+      position of the lion-tamer who runs a chance of being overwhelmed by the
+      caresses of the carnivora who rush to lick his hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The result of all this was extremely gratifying, and eminently profitable.
+      Had Dr. Burney not been a great musician and shown by the publication of
+      the first volume of the greatest History of Music the world had yet
+      received, that he was worthy of being placed in the foremost ranks of
+      scientific musicians, he would have run a chance of being placed only a
+      little higher than the musical Cornelys of Soho Square, who gave their
+      concerts, and entertained their friends, and made quite a reputation for
+      some years before bankruptcy overtook them and the precincts of the Fleet
+      became their headquarters.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And now the beautiful Esther Burney was toying with the contents of her
+      sister Fanny's work-basket, talking about her husband and his prospects,
+      and inquiring what Mr. Garrick and James had to talk about in the room
+      downstairs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pray speak in French to Fanny,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;I cannot get Lottie
+      and Susan to do so as frequently as I could wish. You must remember that
+      poor Fanny has had none of your advantages, and I do not want her to be
+      talked of as the dunce of the family. She really is not a dunce, you know;
+      in spite of her bad sight she really has done some very pretty sewing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have seen it,&rdquo; said Esther. &ldquo;She works very neatly&mdash;more neatly
+      than any of us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny blushed and smiled her thanks to her sister for the compliment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What else is there left for me to do but to give all my attention to my
+      needle?&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I constantly feel that I am the dunce of the family&mdash;you
+      are all so clever.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is well for many families that they include one useful member,&rdquo; said
+      her stepmother in a way that suggested her complete agreement with the
+      girl's confession that she was the dunce of the family. A mother's
+      acknowledgment that a girl is either useful or good-natured is practically
+      an announcement that she is neither pretty nor accomplished.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And Fanny has many friends,&rdquo; continued Mrs. Burney indulgently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Which shows how kind people are, even to a dunce,&rdquo; said Fanny, not
+      bitterly, but quite good-humouredly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I am not sure that she should spend so much of her time writing to
+      Mr. Crisp,&rdquo; said the elder Mrs. Burney to the younger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, poor Daddy Crisp!&rdquo; cried Fanny. &ldquo;Pray, mother, do not cut him off
+      from his weekly budget of news. If I fail to send him a letter he is
+      really disconsolate. 'Tis my letters that keep him still in touch with the
+      life of the town.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, well, my dear Fanny, I shall not deprive you of your Daddy Crisp,&rdquo;
+       said her stepmother. &ldquo;Poor Mr. Crisp must not be left to the tender
+      mercies of Susan or Lottie. He is most hospitable, and his house at
+      Chessington makes a pleasant change for us now and again, and he took a
+      great fancy to you from the first.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Daddy Crisp was always Fanny's special friend,&rdquo; said Esther. &ldquo;And I am
+      sure that it is good practice for Fanny to write to him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, she has long ago given up that childish nonsense,&rdquo; cried the mother.
+      &ldquo;Poor Fanny made a pretty bonfire of her scribblings, and she has shown no
+      weakness in that way since she took my advice in regard to them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny was blushing furiously and giving all her attention to her work.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She has still a sense of the guilt that attaches to the writing of
+      stories, though I am sure that no one in this house remembers it against
+      her,&rdquo; said Esther with a laugh, as Fanny's blushes increased. &ldquo;But indeed
+      I had not in my mind Mr. Crisp's advantage to her in this way, but only in
+      regard to her correspondence. She has become quite an expert letter-writer
+      since he induced her to send him her budget, and indeed I think that good
+      letter-writing is as much of an accomplishment in these careless days as
+      good singing&mdash;that is ordinary good singing&mdash;the good singing
+      that we hear from some of father's pupils&mdash;Queenie Thrale, <i>par
+      exemple!</i>&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your father is a good teacher, but the best teacher in the world cannot
+      endow with a good singing-voice anyone who has not been so gifted by
+      Nature,&rdquo; said the elder lady. &ldquo;'Tis somewhat different, to be sure, in
+      regard to correspondence, and I do not doubt that Fanny's practice in
+      writing to good Mr. Crisp will one day cause her to be regarded as one of
+      the best letter-writers in the family, and that is something. It is a
+      ladylike accomplishment, and one that is worth excelling in; it gives
+      innocent pleasure to so many of her friends who live at a distance; and
+      your father can always obtain plenty of franks, Mr. Charmier and Mr.
+      Thrale are very obliging.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny was a little fidgety while her eldest sister and her stepmother were
+      discussing her in a tone of indulgence which was more humiliating than
+      open reprobation would have been. But she knew that the truth was, that
+      from her earliest years she was looked on as the dunce of the family, and
+      she was so morbidly self-conscious that she was quite ready to accept
+      their estimate of her. The silent member of a musical family soon finds
+      out how she is looked on by the others; not with unkindness&mdash;quite
+      the contrary&mdash;but only as if she were to be slightly pitied for her
+      deficiency. But she had a secret or two, the treasuring of which in her
+      heart prevented her from having any feeling of humiliation in the presence
+      of her splendid sister, whom all the world sought to attract to their
+      houses, especially when there were guests anxious to be entertained by the
+      sweet singing of a handsome young woman with a very presentable young
+      husband. Fanny had her secrets and cherished them with a fearful joy, for
+      she knew that any day might remove either or both of them, and then there
+      would be nothing left for her in the household but to put her heart into
+      her needlework. But one cannot do needlework without needles, and if she
+      were to put her heart into her work, and if every needle had a point, the
+      result would, she knew, be a good many prickings.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She trusted that she might never be condemned to put her heart into her
+      needlework.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VI
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HEN Lieutenant
+      Burney sauntered into the room and greeted Esther; but when Fanny inquired
+      with some eagerness what had been the result of Mr. Garrick's fooling of
+      poor Mr. Kendal, James was by no means so glib or amusing as Fanny
+      expected him to be.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Psha!&rdquo; he cried; &ldquo;that Mr. Kendal is not worth powder and shot&mdash;at
+      least not the weight of metal that Mr. Garrick can discharge&mdash;not in
+      a broadside&mdash;Mr. Garrick is not given to broadsides&mdash;they are
+      too clumsy for him&mdash;he is like Luke Boscawen, our chief gunner; he
+      had a contempt for what he was used to term a blustering broadside, having
+      a liking only for the working of his little brass swivel. He could do
+      anything that he pleased with his little swivel. 'Ping!' it would go, when
+      he had squinted along the sights, and the object he aimed at half a mile
+      away&mdash;sometimes so small that we could scarce see it from our foretop&mdash;down
+      it went. Boscawen could do what he pleased with it&mdash;the blunt nose of
+      a whale rising to spout a mile away&mdash;the stem of a cocoa-nut palm on
+      one of the islands when we were not sure of the natives and there was no
+      time to climb the tree&mdash;that is the marksmanship of Mr. Garrick, and
+      your Mr. Kendal was not worthy of an exercise of so much skill.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nobody seems too insignificant to be made a fool of by Mr. Garrick,&rdquo; said
+      Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;He is as happy when he has made a gruesome face and
+      frightened a maid with a mop at the doorstep, as when he has stricken us
+      with awe when the ghost enters in <i>Hamlet</i>, or when Macbeth declaims
+      of the horror of the curse of sleeplessness that has been cast on him.
+      That is why I said before he arrived that I was not sure that his
+      influence upon you all is for good. He makes one lose one's sense of the
+      right proportions and realities of life. Now is not that so, Hetty? I make
+      no appeal to Fanny, for I know that she has ever been devoted to Mr.
+      Garrick. Is it not true that she was used to frighten poor Lottie before
+      she was ten by showing how Mr. Garrick frowned as the Duke of Gloster?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know that Fanny murdered us all in turn in our beds, assuring us that
+      we were the Princes in the Tower, or some less real characters invented by
+      herself,&rdquo; said Esther. &ldquo;But indeed if James tells us that Mr. Garrick's
+      gun practice smashed the cocoa-nut that serves Mr. Kendal as a head, I
+      should not grieve. Tell us what happened, James.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, 'twas naught worth words to describe,&rdquo; said James. &ldquo;The man came to
+      take counsel of Daddy in regard to a jest that Mr. Garrick had, unknown to
+      his victim, played off upon him, and Mr. Garrick so worked upon him that
+      Daddy had no chance to speak. But Mr. Garrick made fools of us as well,
+      for I give you my word, though we were in with him in his jest, he had us
+      blubbering like boobies when he laid his hand on the fellow's shoulder and
+      spoke nonsense in a voice quivering and quavering as though he were at the
+      point of breaking down.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Burney the elder shook her head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is what I do not like&mdash;that trifling with sacred things,&rdquo; she
+      said. &ldquo;'Tis not decent in a private house&mdash;I would not tolerate it
+      even in a playhouse, and I see that you are of my opinion, James, though
+      you may have been dragged into the abetting of Mr. Garrick in whatever mad
+      scheme he had set himself upon perfecting.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, for that matter we are all sorry when we have been merry at the
+      expense of another, even though he be an elderly coxcomb such as that Mr.
+      Kendal,&rdquo; said James. &ldquo;But enough&mdash;more than enough&mdash;of coxcomb
+      Kendal! Tell us of the Duchess's concert, Hetty. Were the matrimonial
+      duets as successful as usual?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Esther, who had been disappointed that her stepmother had not yet said a
+      word about the concert of the previous night given by the Dowager Duchess
+      of Portland, at which she and her husband had performed, brightened up at
+      her brother's question.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The concert was well enough,&rdquo; she replied with an affectation of
+      carelessness. &ldquo;'Twas no better than many that have taken place under this
+      roof. Her Grace and her grandees were very kind to us&mdash;we had enough
+      plaudits to turn the head of Gabrielli herself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, the Gabrielli's head has been turned so frequently that one can never
+      tell when it sits straight on her shoulders,&rdquo; said James.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She was <i>very</i> civil to us last evening,&rdquo; said Esther. &ldquo;Indeed, she
+      was civil to everyone until the enchanter Rauzzini sang the solo from <i>Piramo
+      e Tisbe</i> and swept the company off their feet. The poor Gabrielli had
+      no chance against Rauzzini.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Especially in a company that numbered many ladies,&rdquo; said James, with a
+      laugh. &ldquo;You remember what Sir Joshua told us that Dr. Goldsmith had once
+      said of Johnson?&mdash;that in his argument he was like the highwayman:
+      when his pistol missed fire he knocked one down with the butt.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I heard that upon one occasion Dr. Johnson knocked a man down with a
+      heavy book, but I cannot imagine his ever firing a pistol,&rdquo; remarked Mrs.
+      Burney, who had been used, when the wife of a straightforward merchant of
+      Lynn, to take every statement literally, and had not yet become accustomed
+      to the involved mode of speaking of the brilliant young Burneys.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean that Rauzzini&mdash;I don't quite perceive what you do mean by
+      your reference to Dr. Goldsmith's apt humour,&rdquo; said Esther.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I only mean that among such a company as assembled at the Duchess's, if
+      he missed fire with his singing, he glanced around with those dark eyes of
+      his and the ladies went down before him by the score,&rdquo; replied James. &ldquo;Do
+      not I speak the truth, Fanny?&rdquo; he added, turning quickly to where Fanny
+      was searching with her short-sighted eyes close to her work-basket for
+      some material that seemed to be missing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But she had clearly heard her brother's question, for she did not need to
+      raise her head or to ask him to repeat it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, we are all the slaves of the nobil' signor,&rdquo; she said, and continued
+      her search in the basket.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;From the way he talked to us last night it might be fancied that it was
+      he who was the captive,&rdquo; said Esther.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I do not doubt that he is living in a state of constant captivity,&rdquo;
+       laughed James. &ldquo;Ay, or I should rather term it inconstant captivity, for I
+      dare swear that those black eyes of his do a deal of roving in the course
+      of a year&mdash;nay, in the course of a day. These singer fellows feel
+      that 'tis due to their art, this moving the hearts of their hearers, by
+      moving their own affections from heart to heart. The Rauzzini is, I fancy,
+      like one of the splendid butterflies we came upon in the Straits,
+      fluttering from flower to flower.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have heard no stories of his inconstancy, even from the Gabrielli when
+      she was most envious of his plaudits,&rdquo; said Esther, and she glanced at her
+      sister, who was earnestly threading a needle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You goose!&rdquo; cried James to Esther. &ldquo;Do you suppose that Gabrielli would
+      tell you anything so greatly complimentary to him? In these days you
+      cannot pay a man a greater compliment than to compare him to the fickle
+      butterfly. You see that suggests a welcome from every flower.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I protest that it is to sailors I have heard most compliments of that
+      sort paid,&rdquo; laughed Esther, and then, putting herself in a singing
+      attitude before him, she lilted most delightfully:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br />
+    </p>
+    <p class="indent20">
+      &ldquo;Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more!
+    </p>
+    <p class="indent20">
+      Men were deceivers ever,
+    </p>
+    <p class="indent20">
+      One foot on sea-
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;ha, ha, brother James!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br />
+    </p>
+    <p class="indent20">
+      and one on shore,
+    </p>
+    <p class="indent20">
+      To one thing constant never.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now be advised by me, dear James, and do not attribute even in a cynical
+      way, the vice of inconstancy to a singer, until you have left the Navy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did not allude to it as a vice&mdash;rather as a virtue,&rdquo; said James.
+      &ldquo;Just think of the hard fate of any girl to have such a person as a singer
+      ever by her side!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He easily evaded the rush down upon him made by Hetty, and used his
+      nautical skill to sail to the windward of her, as it were, until he had
+      reached the door, whence he sent a parting shot at her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You surely don't think that I hinted that your spouse was a singer,&rdquo; he
+      cried. &ldquo;A singer! Oh, lud! I should be swaying away on all top ropes if I
+      were to call the matrimonial duets singing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He gave a shout of laughter as he caught the ball of wool which Esther
+      threw at him, having picked it up from her stepmother's work-table. He
+      returned it with a better aim, and before his sister could get a hand on
+      it, he had shut the door, only opening it a little space a few seconds
+      later to put in his head with a mocking word, withdrawing it at once, and
+      then his foot was heard upon the stair, while he gave a sailor's version
+      of Mr. Garrick's patriotic naval song:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br />
+    </p>
+    <p class="indent15">
+      Come, cheer up, my lads, 'tis to glory we steer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He has gone before I had a chance of asking him to take a message to the
+      cheesemonger,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney, calling out to him while she hurried
+      after him out of the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VII
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE moment the two
+      sisters were alone, the elder said quickly in a low voice, leaning across
+      the table:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We had a long talk with Signor Rauzzini, my dearest Fanny. I could not,
+      of course, tell you before mother.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mentioned his name; but were you discreet?&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;I think
+      mother felt that you were going too far when you referred to his eyes.
+      Mother most surely believes that the dark eyes of an Italian form a topic
+      that should not be discussed except by our elders, and then only with
+      bated breath and a fearful glance around lest a word should be overheard.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;His eyes&mdash;you know his eyes, Fanny?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; said Fanny, with an inflection that was between a sigh and a moan.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You should have seen them while he spoke of you,&rdquo; said Esther. &ldquo;Talk of
+      flashes of lightning!&mdash;Dear child, it seemed so singular to us that a
+      mite like you should inspire a grand passion in such a man. You are not
+      angry with us, I know, but it was so indeed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why should I feel angry with you for feeling just what I do myself, only
+      more intensely,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;Tis one of the greatest mysteries of life&mdash;the
+      only mystery of life that I have yet faced&mdash;why a man who is as
+      handsome as an archangel, and who possesses a voice that an archangel
+      might envy, should so much as glance at an insignificant young woman like
+      myself! Oh! 'tis no wonder that the notion amused you, dear Hetty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It only diverted us for a time, I assure you, my Fanny; it did not take
+      us very long to perceive how it was no laughing matter, but, on the
+      contrary, a very serious matter. Signor Rauzzini is, as I said, an
+      enchanter, but do you not think that 'tis somewhat dangerous to&mdash;to&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To play with fire? That is what is on your mind, dear&mdash;to allow the
+      fire of his Roman eyes to play about me? Dangerous? I admit that wherever
+      there is fire there is danger, especially when it flashes from such eyes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am glad that you need no warning, child. As your elder sister I am
+      pleased that&mdash;that&mdash;but no one in the house seems to think for a
+      moment that the favour he has so distinctly shown to you can mean
+      anything. Indeed, until last night, neither Charles nor I could believe&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny laughed, half closing her short-sighted eyes with a curious
+      expression as she looked at her sister.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is only natural, my dear Hettina,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have I ever ventured to suggest that I am other than the dunce of the
+      family?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have always been absurdly humble, Fanny, and I have never hesitated
+      to say so,&rdquo; cried Esther. &ldquo;I am sure that none of us could have made up
+      such clever little pieces to act as you did when we were children. And as
+      for writing, could any of us have so neatly copied out the padre's History
+      as you did last year? Mr. Crisp, too&mdash;he never takes pleasure in any
+      letters of the family except what you write for him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All perfectly true, my Hettina,&rdquo; replied Fanny. &ldquo;But where am I when the
+      house is filled with visitors? You know that I am nobody&mdash;that all I
+      pray for with all my heart is that no one will take any notice of me, and
+      I think I can say that my prayer is nearly always granted.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is because you are so dreadfully&mdash;so absurdly shy,&rdquo; said
+      Esther. &ldquo;You are the little mouse that is evermore on the look out for a
+      hole into which you can creep and be safe from the observation of all
+      eyes. You are ever trying to escape, unless when Mr. Garrick is here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear Hettina, I know my place&mdash;that is all. I have weak eyes, but
+      quick ears, and I have heard strangers ask, when they have heard you sing
+      and Susan play, who the little short-sighted girl in the corner is and
+      what she means to do for the entertainment of the company. When they are
+      assured that I am one of the clever Burney family they whisper an
+      incredulous 'No?' They cannot believe that so insignificant a person as
+      myself can be one of you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tis your morbid self-consciousness, Fanny, that suggests so much to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no; I was the dunce from the first. You know that while you could
+      read any book with ease when you were six, I did not even know my letters
+      when I was eight. Don't you remember how James made a jest of my thirst
+      for knowledge by pretending to teach me the alphabet with the page turned
+      upside down? And when you had gone to school at Paris and it was my turn
+      as the next eldest, the wise padre perceived in a moment that the money
+      would be much better spent upon Susan and Lottie, and they went to be
+      educated while I remained at home in ignorance? The dear padre was right:
+      he knew that I should have been miserable among bright girls away from
+      home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a pause before the elder sister said quite pathetically:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My poor Fanny! I wonder if you have not been treated shabbily among us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not. I, my Hettina. I have always been treated fairly. I have had as many
+      treats as any of you; when you were learning so much in Paris I have been
+      learning quite a number of things at home. And one of the most important
+      things I learned was that so brilliant a person as Signor Rauzzini could
+      never be happy if married to so insignificant a person as Fanny Burney.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Esther gave a little sigh of relief.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed I think that your conclusion is a right one, dear,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;We
+      both came to the conclusion&mdash;Charles and I&mdash;that it would be a
+      huge misfortune if you should allow yourself to be attracted by the
+      glamour that attaches to the appearance of such a man as the Rauzzini,
+      though, mind you, I believe that he honestly fancies himself in love with
+      you&mdash;oh, he made no disguise of it in talking with us last night. But
+      I hoped that you would be sensible.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, in the matter of sense I am the equal of anyone in the family,&rdquo; said
+      Fanny, laughing. &ldquo;That I mean to make my one accomplishment&mdash;good
+      sense. That is the precious endowment of the dunce of the clever family&mdash;good
+      sense; the one who stands next to the dunce in the lack of accomplishments
+      should be endowed with good nature. Good sense and good nature go hand in
+      hand in plain grey taffeta, not down the primrose paths of life, but along
+      the King's highway of every day, where they run no chance of jostling the
+      simple foot-passengers or exciting the envy of any by the flaunting of
+      feathers in their face. Good sense and good nature are best satisfied when
+      they attract no attention, but pass on to obscurity, smiling at the
+      struggle of others to be accounted persons of importance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you have indeed made up your mind to marry Mr. Barlowe?&rdquo; cried
+      Esther.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny laughed enigmatically.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Does it not mean rather that I have made up my mind not to marry Mr.
+      Barlowe?&rdquo; she cried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Esther looked puzzled: she was puzzled, and that was just what Fanny meant
+      her to be.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But then she looked piqued, as elder sisters do when puzzled by the words
+      or the acts of the younger. What business have younger sisters puzzling
+      their elders? Their doing so suggests pertness when the elders are
+      unmarried, but sheer insubordination when they are married; and Esther was
+      by no means willing at any time to abrogate the privileges of her position
+      as a married woman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I protest that I do not understand your meaning, Fanny,&rdquo; she said,
+      raising her chin in a way that gave her head a dignified poise. There was
+      also a chill dignity in the tone of her voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear Hettina, I ask your pardon,&rdquo; cried Fanny quickly. &ldquo;I fear that I
+      replied to you with a shameful unreasonableness. But indeed I am not sure
+      that you had reason on your side when you assumed that because I was ready
+      to acknowledge that it would not mean happiness to our dear Signor
+      Rauzzini to marry an insignificant person like myself, I was therefore
+      prepared to throw myself into the arms of Mr. Barlowe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I fancied that&mdash;that&mdash;but you may have another suitor in your
+      mind whose name you have not mentioned to anyone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why should it be necessary for me to have a suitor of any kind? Is it not
+      possible to conceive of the existence of a young woman without a row of
+      suitors in the background? I admit that the 'Odyssey' of Homer&mdash;you
+      remember how I used to listen to your reading of Mr. Broome's translation
+      to mother&mdash;would be shorn of much of its interest but for that
+      background of suitors in one of the last books, but&mdash;well, my dear
+      sister, I hold that the alternative song of life to the matrimonial duet
+      is the spinster's solo, and it does not seem to me to be quite devoid of
+      interest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I took it for granted&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; began Esther, when Fanny broke
+      in upon her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I know what all the happily wedded ones take for granted,&rdquo; she
+      cried. &ldquo;You assume that the wedded life is the only one worth living; but
+      as we are told in the Bible that there is one glory of the sun and another
+      of the moon, so I hold that I am justified in believing that if matrimony
+      be celestial, spinsterhood is terrestrial, but a glory all the same, and
+      not unattractive to me. I may be wise enough to content myself with the
+      subdued charm of moonlight if it so be that I am shut off from the midday
+      splendour of matrimony.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Esther did not laugh in the least as did her sister when she had spoken
+      with an air of finality. She only made a little motion with her shoulders
+      suggesting a shrug, while she said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope you will succeed in convincing mother that your views are the best
+      for the household; but I think you will have some difficulty in doing so,
+      considering what a family of girls we are.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not doubt that mother will be on the side of immediate matrimony and
+      poor Mr. Barlowe,&rdquo; said Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why poor Mr. Barlowe?&rdquo; cried Esther. &ldquo;He is a young man of excellent
+      principles, and he has never given his parents a day's trouble. It is
+      understood that if he marries sensibly he will be admitted to a
+      partnership in the business, so that&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Principles and a partnership make for matrimonial happiness, I doubt
+      not,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;And I doubt not that Dr. Fell had both excellent
+      principles and an excellent practice; still someone has recorded in
+      deathless verse that she&mdash;I assume the sex&mdash;did not like that
+      excellent man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you do not like Mr. Barlowe on the same mysterious grounds?&rdquo; said
+      Hetty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, I am not so unreasonable, I hope,&rdquo; replied Fanny. &ldquo;But&mdash;but&mdash;dear
+      sister, I remember how I thought that the song of the linnet which was in
+      our little garden at Lynn was the loveliest strain of the grove, and such
+      was my belief until I awoke one night at Chessington and heard the
+      nightingale.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are puzzling&mdash;singularly puzzling today,&rdquo; said Esther frowning.
+      &ldquo;You have started two or three mystifying parables already. You told me
+      some time ago as a great secret that you had been renewing your
+      story-writing, in spite of your having burnt all that you had written for
+      our edification&mdash;all that story&mdash;what was its name? The heroine
+      was one Caroline Evelyn. You were ever an obedient child, or you would not
+      have sacrificed your offspring at the bidding of our new mother, though
+      the advice that she gave you was good, if you have not quite adhered to
+      it. Novel writing is not for young ladies any more than novel reading, and
+      certainly talking in parables is worse still. Well, I have no more time to
+      spend over your puzzles.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You would not find their solution to repay you, my dear,&rdquo; said Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Still, I am pleased to learn that you take a sensible view of Signor
+      Rauzzini and his heroics&mdash;but, indeed, I cannot see that Mr. Barlowe
+      should not be considered, with his prospects&mdash;his father is a mercer
+      in gold and silver lace, as you know&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have heard so&mdash;it is a profitable trade, I believe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;None more so. It is impossible to believe that a time will ever come when
+      gold and silver lace will cease to be worn by gentlemen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That would be an evil day for England as well as for Messieurs Barlowe,
+      <i>père et fils</i>. But thank heaven it is not yet in sight. Good
+      morning, dear sister; and be assured you have my thanks for your advice.
+      But mind you keep my little secret about the writing. Good-bye. You can
+      face mother boldly, knowing that you have carried out her commission to
+      the letter, and very neatly and discreetly into the bargain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I would not have done so if her views had not been mine also; as for your
+      writing&mdash;you may depend on my keeping your secret. But you will have
+      to get the padre's permission to have it printed&mdash;that's something
+      still in the far future, I suppose;&rdquo;&mdash;and the elder sister stooped to
+      kiss the younger&mdash;Fanny was not up to the shoulder of the beautiful
+      and stately Esther.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And so they parted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VIII
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>ANNY BURNEY had
+      been forced, for the first time, to make her sister aware of the fact that
+      she knew she was looked on as the dunce of the brilliant Burney family.
+      She could see that her doing so had startled her sister, for neither
+      Esther nor any of the other girls had ever suggested to her that they
+      thought of her as being on a different level from themselves, though it
+      was tacitly allowed that it was a great pity that Fanny did not emulate
+      them in taking pains to shine as it was expected the children of that
+      estimable master of music, Dr. Burney, should shine, so as to make the
+      house in that narrow little street off Leicester Fields attractive to its
+      many distinguished visitors.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny had truly defined her place in the household. She had recognized her
+      place for several years; but there was not the least suggestion of rancour
+      in her tone when talking to her brilliant elder sister, for the simple
+      reason that there was no bitterness in her heart against any member of the
+      family for being cleverer than herself. Fanny took pride in the
+      accomplishments of her sisters, and was quite content with her position in
+      relation to them. She got on well with all of them, because she was fond
+      of them all, and they were all fond of her. She had not rebelled when her
+      father had sent her younger sisters to be educated in Paris, and had
+      allowed her to pick up her own education as best she might in his own
+      library; and it had been a great happiness to her to be allowed the
+      privilege of copying out for the press the first volume of her father's
+      &ldquo;History of Music.&rdquo; It was her stepmother who, finding out that Fanny had
+      what Mrs. Burney called &ldquo;a taste for writing,&rdquo; had suggested that that was
+      the legitimate channel in which such a taste should flow; and it was her
+      stepmother who had induced her to make a bonfire of all her own writings&mdash;the
+      scribblings of her girlhood that represented the foolish errant flow of
+      her &ldquo;taste for writing &ldquo;: and now and again she had a consciousness of her
+      own duplicity in failing to resist the impulse that had come upon her to
+      do some more of what her mother termed her &ldquo;girlish scribbling.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      One of the guilty secrets that Fanny cherished was that when it was
+      believed she was writing her long letters to her old friend Mr. Crisp, she
+      had been composing a novel which was now about to be given to the world;
+      the second was that Signor Rauzzini, the handsome young Roman singer with
+      whom half the fashionable ladies of the town were in love, was in love
+      with her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      These were two secrets worth the cherishing, she knew; and the thought of
+      them more than compensated her for the reflection that she was the dunce
+      of the family, and that the unconscious tone of patronage adopted toward
+      her by her elder sister and the dreadful compliments paid to her plain
+      sewing, as though plain sewing represented the highest hopes that could
+      reasonably be entertained in regard to her, were only to be looked for in
+      the circumstances.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The two secrets were closely bound up together, she knew. She had the
+      deepest affection for Signor Rauzzini. How could she fail to return the
+      feeling which the whisper of his musical voice had told her he had
+      conceived for her? He loved her in spite of the fact that she was the
+      least attractive member of the family&mdash;in spite of the fact that half
+      the town was at his feet, and that he might have made his choice from
+      among the best. He had chosen her whom no one else had ever noticed, with
+      the exception of her father's old friend, Mr. Crisp, and&mdash;oh, yes
+      (she laughed now, perceiving that she had done an injustice to the other
+      person who had been attracted to her&mdash;mainly, she thought, on account
+      of her reputation for plain sewing)&mdash;a young man named Thomas
+      Barlowe, the excellent son of the well-known mercer of gold and silver
+      lace, in the Poultry!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thinking of young Mr. Barlowe by the side of Signor Rauzzini, Fanny
+      laughed again. She had so restricted an opinion of her own attractiveness
+      that the tears actually came into her eyes for having given that derisive
+      laugh as she compared the two young men; and she felt that she had been
+      grossly ungrateful to young Mr. Barlowe; for even young Mr. Barlowe had a
+      right to look above her level for a wife. As the daughter of a simple
+      music master with a large family she could have no endowment so far as
+      worldly goods were concerned; and she knew that the practical parents of
+      young business men, as a rule, looked for their sons to marry, if not
+      great fortunes, at least young women with a few thousands to their names.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She felt that she had treated the condescending young Mr. Barlowe very
+      badly in laughing at the poor figure he cut by the side of the angelic
+      Roman singer&mdash;she had failed to resist the temptation to call Signor
+      Rauzzini angelic in one of her letters to Mr. Crisp&mdash;and now, in
+      thinking of Mr. Barlowe as a very worthy young man, she was unconsciously
+      relegating him to a hopeless position as a lover. It is not the very
+      worthy young men who are beloved by young women of a romantic temperament:
+      if it were there would be very few romances left. But little Miss Burney
+      desired only to ease the twinges of her conscience for having laughed at
+      the thought of young Tommy Barlowe; and she thought that she had done the
+      right thing in assuring herself that he was a very worthy person.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then she thought no more about him. She had a feeling that to give
+      another thought to him when she had such a man as Signor Rauzzini to think
+      about, would be a constructive act of treason in regard to Rauzzini. She
+      had received many hints from her stepmother to the effect that all the
+      family considered her to be a very fortunate young woman (all things taken
+      into account) in having a chance of marrying the Thomas who seemed ready
+      to pay his addresses to her; but though quite submissive to her stepmother
+      in household matters, she was ready to face her with the &ldquo;Never!&rdquo; of the
+      avowed rebel in the matter of consenting to wed the highly approved
+      Thomas, and so she dismissed him from her thoughts, in favour of the man
+      whom she loved.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But thinking of the man whom she loved was by no means equivalent to
+      passing into a region of unalloyed happiness. She had mystified her sister
+      by the way in which she had spoken about Signor Rauzzini, and the seal had
+      been put upon the mystery by her frank acknowledgment that she did not
+      think a union between so distinguished a man as Rauzzini and so
+      insignificant a person as herself was likely to be satisfactory.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had certainly allowed Hetty to go away believing that this was in her
+      mind; and that was just what was in her mind when her thoughts turned from
+      Thomas, whom she considered so estimable, to Rauzzini, whom she loved. She
+      loved the Roman singer so truly that she had made a resolution never to
+      consent to his marrying anyone so insignificant as she believed herself to
+      be.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had no illusions regarding herself. She knew just how good-looking she
+      was; she knew that by the side of any of her sisters she was almost plain;
+      but that she had a pleasing, simple face of a very ordinary type. She knew
+      that she could love with the truest devotion and she could trust herself
+      not to change with time. But she felt that these were not beyond the
+      traits of the ordinary young woman, and that they did not lift her from
+      the level of insignificance to the level of Signor Rauzzini.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She knew that she was at that moment an insignificant person; and she made
+      no attempt to think of herself as otherwise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yes; but she had heard of people&mdash;even young women&mdash;being
+      insignificant one day, and the next springing to a pinnacle of fame to
+      which all eyes looked up. How would it be if she were destined to reach in
+      a moment a position that would place her on a level with the man of her
+      thoughts&mdash;the man whose fame as a singer had caused him to be the
+      centre round which every conversation in the most notable circles turned?
+      Everyone was talking in praise of Rauzzini; and she herself thought of him
+      as occupying a place on a height as far above her as King Cophetua's
+      throne was above the marble steps at the foot of which the beggar maid had
+      crouched; but in her mind there was the possibility that her name might
+      one day be spoken by the world in connection with an achievement that
+      would raise her from the insignificance of Fanny Burney to the importance
+      of Signor Rauzzini, and prevent people from asking what on earth had
+      induced so glorious a person as he to make her his wife!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That was the secret dream which filled the imagination of this imaginative
+      young woman&mdash;the same dream as comes to so many young women who have
+      written the last chapter of a book and sent it forth for the world to
+      receive with acclaim&mdash;the dream of fame&mdash;of immortality! She had
+      written a novel and it was about to be given to the world, if the world
+      would have it, and upon its success her happiness depended. If it brought
+      her fame, it would place her by the side of the man whom she loved; but if
+      it failed, then she would remain a person of no significance, and quite
+      unworthy of sharing the honours which were showered upon her lover. She
+      had imagination, and this faculty it was that made her more than doubtful
+      of the success of King Cophetua's rash experiment. She felt sure that King
+      Cophetua had now and again, turning suddenly round, caught one of his
+      courtiers with his tongue in his cheek when his Majesty was entering the
+      throne-room with his shy and insignificant Queen by his side, and that the
+      Queen had occasionally overheard the whispers of her maids of honour, when
+      they did not know she was at hand, asking one another what on earth the
+      King had seen in her that induced him to make her his consort. Little Miss
+      Burney had long ago made up her mind that the union of King Cophetua and
+      his beggar maid was far from being a happy one&mdash;that the King looked
+      around him and saw several princesses of great beauty and quite devoid of
+      shyness who were fully acquainted with the convenances of his court and
+      would not, if he had married any one of them, have made the mistakes which
+      she was sure the young person whom he had elevated had fallen into,
+      causing him constant irritation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Little Miss Burney had resolved that she would never play the part of a
+      crowned beggar maid. The man whom she loved had won fame for himself, and
+      she would not go to him unless she, too, had at least made such a name for
+      herself as should prevent her from feeling herself in the position of the
+      beggar maid whom King Cophetua had raised to his side. Little Miss Burney
+      resolved that although she could scarcely expect to go to her lover
+      wearing purple robes embroidered with gold, she could, at any rate,
+      refrain from wearing beggars' rags. She had her ambitions, and she felt
+      that they were not ignoble, but that they made for the happiness of the
+      man she loved, and who had been gracious enough to love her&mdash;the
+      least attractive member of the family.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But after she had sat for some time with her hands lying idle on the
+      sempstress' work at which she had been engaged on the departure of her
+      sister&mdash;after her imagination had carried her much farther away than
+      she intended it should, she was sensible of a return to the cold world
+      from which she had soared. Her heart, which had begun to beat quickly when
+      Hetty had told her how the divine Rauzzini had spoken of her, sank within
+      her as she seemed to hear a voice asking who was she that she should hope
+      to reach by the publication of that story which she had been writing by
+      stealth and at odd times during the past three years, even the smallest
+      measure of fame that would compare with that of Signor Rauzzini? What fame
+      attached to the writing of a novel in comparison with that achieved by the
+      enchantment of a singer who had power to move the hearts of men and women
+      as it pleased him? Orpheus&mdash;ah, what fame could compare with the fame
+      of Orpheus, the singer? His was a heaven-sent gift. What was her little
+      talent compared with such a gift? If she had the ability even to make
+      music such as one of her sisters could bring forth from the keys of the
+      piano, she would have a better chance of being accounted worthy of a place
+      beside Signor Rauzzini than if her novel found its way to the shelves of
+      many readers. The writing of a novel was a poor achievement&mdash;nay, in
+      the opinion of a good many people, including her own stepmother&mdash;a
+      most practical woman&mdash;it was something to be ashamed of; and Fanny
+      herself, thinking over all the novels written by women which she herself
+      had read&mdash;most of them surreptitiously&mdash;was disposed to agree
+      with her. That was why she had kept as a secret for more than three years
+      the fact that she was trying to write a novel. Her father knew nothing of
+      it, and her stepmother was equally uninformed. Even her old friend Mr.
+      Crisp, to whom she wrote voluminous letters week after week, and to whom
+      she gave her confidence on many matters, had no suspicion that she had
+      written her novel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had thought it prudent to keep this matter hidden from them, for she
+      did not doubt that if she had told any one of them of her project, she
+      would never have a chance of realizing it. They would certainly have
+      pronounced against such a proceeding even before a page of her novel came
+      to be written.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And yet it was the thought that this novel was shortly to be published
+      that had caused her to feel that she was drawing nearer to her lover.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As she reflected upon this, sitting idly over her work when her sister had
+      left the house, her tears began to fall, not in a torrent, but slowly
+      dropping at intervals upon the fabric which she had been sewing. She felt
+      very sad, very hopeless, very lonely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nor could it be said that the sudden return of Mrs. Burney meant a return
+      of happiness to the girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Burney did not consider that Fanny had made satisfactory progress
+      with her work, and did not hesitate to express her opinion to this effect.
+      But she was not imprudently unkind; for young Mr. Barlowe had just written
+      to her, begging permission to pay his respects to Mrs. Burney and her
+      daughter that evening, and she meant that Fanny should be in a good humour
+      to entertain him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Burney had great hopes that the question of Fanny's future&mdash;a
+      constant topic of conversation and consultation between her and her
+      husband&mdash;might be settled by a series of visits of young Mr. Barlowe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER IX
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">Y</span>OUNG Mr. Barlowe
+      took himself very seriously, and he had every right to do so; for a more
+      serious young man was not to be found in business in London. He had been
+      brought up to look upon everything in the world as having an intimate
+      connection with business, and it had always been impressed upon him that
+      business meant the increase of money, and that there was hardly anything
+      in the world worth giving a thought to apart from the increase of money.
+      It never occurred to any of his preceptors to suggest that the advantage
+      of increasing one's money lay in the splendid possibilities of spending
+      it. The art of making money forms the whole curriculum of a business man's
+      education; he is supposed to require no instruction in the art of spending
+      it. Thus it is that, by attending only to one side of the question, so
+      many business men lead much less interesting lives than they might, if
+      they had it in their power to place themselves under the guidance of a
+      trustworthy professor of the Art of Spending. But no Chair of Spending has
+      yet been provided at any University, nor is there any instructor on this
+      important branch of business education at any of the City schools, hence
+      it is that the sons of so many money-making men turn out spendthrifts.
+      They have been taught only one side of the great money question, and that
+      the less important side into the bargain. In making an honest endeavour to
+      master the other side, usually on the death of a father or a bachelor
+      uncle, both looked on as close-fisted curmudgeons, a good many young men
+      find themselves in difficulties.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Young Mr. Barlowe, on being introduced to the Burney family, through the
+      circumstance of Mrs. Burney's first husband having done business with Mr.
+      Barlowe the elder, found himself in a strange atmosphere. He had never
+      before imagined the existence of a household where music and plays and
+      books were talked about as if these were the profitable topics of life.
+      Previously he had lived in a house where the only profitable topic was
+      thought to be the Profits. At his father's table in the Poultry the
+      conversation never travelled beyond the Profits. The likelihood of a rise
+      in the price of gold or silver sometimes induced the father to increase
+      his stock of bullion without delay, and then if the price rose, he could
+      conscientiously charge his customers for the lace at such a rate per ounce
+      as gave him a clear five per cent, extra profit; and it was upon such
+      possibilities that the conversation in the Poultry parlour invariably
+      turned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And here were these Burneys talking with extraordinary eagerness and
+      vivacity upon such matters as the treatment by a singer named Gabrielli of
+      one of the phrases in a song of Mr. Handel's, beginning: &ldquo;Angels ever
+      bright and fair&rdquo;! For himself, young Mr. Barlowe thought that there was no
+      need for so much repetition in any song. &ldquo;Angels ever bright and fair,
+      Take, oh take me to your care&rdquo;&mdash;that was the whole thing, as it
+      seemed to him; and when that request had been made once he thought it was
+      quite enough; to repeat it half a dozen times was irritating and really
+      tended to defeat its purpose. Only children in the nursery kept
+      reiterating their requests. But he had heard Dr. Burney and his
+      son-in-law, Esther's husband, discuss the Gabrielli's apparently
+      unauthorized pause before the second violins suggested (as it appeared to
+      the younger musician) a whisper of assent floating from the heaven; and
+      all the members of the family except Fanny had taken sides in the
+      controversy, as though a thing like that had any bearing upon the daily
+      life of the City!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thomas Barlowe was amazed at the childishness of the discussion, and he
+      was particularly struck by the silence of Fanny on this occasion. She was
+      silent, he was sure, because she agreed with him in thinking it ridiculous
+      to waste words over a point that should be relegated to the nursery for
+      settlement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They seem pleasant enough people in their way,&rdquo; he told his mother after
+      his first visit. &ldquo;But they know nothing of what is going on in the world&mdash;the
+      real world, of which the Poultry is the centre. It might be expected that
+      the young man who is a naval officer and has seen the world would know
+      something of the import of the question when I asked him what direction he
+      thought gold would move in; but he only winked and replied, 'Not across my
+      hawse, I dare swear,' and the others laughed as if he had said something
+      humorous.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mayhap it was humorous,&rdquo; suggested his mother gravely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It would be sheer ribaldry for anyone to jest upon such a subject as the
+      fluctuations in the price of silver,&rdquo; said Thomas slowly. &ldquo;Lieutenant
+      Burney must surely know how serious a matter would be a fall of a fraction
+      of a crown when we have bought heavily in prospect of a rise. But Miss
+      Burney looks to be different from the others of the family. I have told
+      you that while her father, and indeed all the rest, were talking excitedly
+      on that ridiculous point in Mr. Handel's music, she sat in silence. She is
+      short-sighted, but I noticed more than once that she had her eyes fixed on
+      me, as if she had found something to study in me. She is, I think, a
+      steady, observant young lady. When Mrs. Burney said she hoped that I would
+      visit them again, I think I perceived a sort of interest on Miss Burney's
+      face as she awaited my answer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Thomas had resolved not to frustrate the hopes that Mrs. Burney had
+      expressed as to his paying another visit&mdash;as a matter of fact he had
+      come three times, and on every occasion he had devoted himself to Fanny&mdash;to
+      be more exact than Mrs. Burney, who had described his attentions in this
+      phrase, he had passed his time subjecting her to a sort of catechism with
+      a view to discover if she would make him the sort of wife that would suit
+      him. It appeared that the result of his inquisition was satisfactory, and
+      that his attentions were gradually becoming intentions; but Mrs. Burney
+      had never gone farther than to comment favourably to Fanny upon the young
+      man's steadiness, and to suggest that the young woman whom he might choose
+      to be his wife would be fortunate, steady young men with good prospects in
+      the City being far from abundant. She had never gone so far as to ask
+      Fanny if she would accept good fortune coming to her in such a form;
+      though Fanny knew very well that she had asked Esther to sound her on this
+      point.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      How far Esther's mission was accounted successful by their stepmother,
+      Fanny, of course, could not guess; but at any rate Thomas was to pay a
+      visit after dinner, and Fanny felt that it was necessary for her to be
+      discreet. It had been very interesting for her to study Thomas, with the
+      possibility before her of writing a second novel, in which some of his
+      traits of character might be introduced with advantage; but she perceived
+      how there was a likelihood of her course of study being paid for at too
+      high a rate; so she resolved&mdash;to be discreet beyond her ordinary
+      exercise of a virtue which she displayed at all times of her life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So Thomas came to the house in St. Martin's Street while tea was being
+      served in the drawingroom, to the accompaniment of a duet on the piano&mdash;Dr.
+      Burney had quickly perceived the merits of this new instrument over that
+      of the harpsichord&mdash;between Susan and her father. Very close to the
+      instrument, pressing the receiver of his ear-trumpet to the woodwork of
+      the case, sat Sir Joshua Reynolds, while his sister&mdash;a lady of middle
+      age who was gradually relinquishing the idea that she, too, could paint
+      portraits&mdash;was suffering Mrs. Burney to explain to her the advantages
+      of Lynn over London as a place of residence for people anxious to
+      economize.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny was at the table where the teapot and urn were being drawn on, and
+      close to her sat her brother James, with a volume like an account-book
+      lying face down on the table while he drank his tea.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The progress of the duet was not arrested by the entrance of young Mr.
+      Barlowe, but he looked in the direction of the instrument when he had
+      shaken hands with Mrs. Burney and bowed to Miss Reynolds. It was obvious
+      that he was mystified by seeing Sir Joshua's ear-trumpet pressed against
+      the sound-conducting case of the piano. He was still looking at it with
+      curious eyes while he greeted Fanny with the concentrated politeness of
+      the Poultry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lieutenant Burney roused himself from his lolling attitude when he saw the
+      puzzled look on the young man's face, and he obligingly endeavoured to
+      explain away the mystery.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Tis no wonder that you are amazed, Mr. Barlowe,&rdquo; he said in a whisper.
+      &ldquo;I own that when it was first brought to my notice I thought it
+      extraordinary. A marvellous instrument, is it not, that is played by the
+      ear instead of by the mouth? And yet you must own that some of the notes
+      it produces are very fine&mdash;much more delicate than could be produced
+      by any other means.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not profess to be a judge of music, sir,&rdquo; said Thomas; &ldquo;but I know
+      what pleases me.&rdquo; Fanny wondered how often she had heard that same boast&mdash;the
+      attempt of complete ignorance to be accredited with the virtue of
+      frankness. &ldquo;Yes, I own that I consider the music monstrous pretty; but
+      with the ear&mdash;that is what puzzles me: it seems a simple trumpet,
+      such as is blown by the mouth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pray do not let my father hear you say that, Mr. Barlowe,&rdquo; whispered
+      James. &ldquo;That instrument is his fondest. You know that he has written a
+      'History of Music'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All the world knows that, sir,&rdquo; replied Thomas gallantly. &ldquo;I have not yet
+      found time to read it myself, but&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Neither have I, sir; but I understand that that instrument which seems
+      new to such simpletons as you and I is really as ancient as the pyramids
+      of Egypt&mdash;nay, more so, for my father discovered in his researches
+      that this was the identical form of the first instrument made by Tubal
+      Cain himself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is't possible? In our Family Bible there is a picture of Tubal Cain, but
+      he is depicted blowing through a conch shell.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A shell! Ah! such was the ignorance of the world on these matters before
+      my father wrote his History. But he has managed to clear up many points
+      upon which complete ignorance or very erroneous opinions prevailed. It is
+      not generally known, for instance, that Tubal had his second name given to
+      him by reason of his habitually murdering every musical piece that he
+      attempted to play.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But he was the inventor, was he not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite true, Mr. Barlowe. But that fact, you must admit, only made his
+      offence the more flagrant. So the inscriptions on the rocks assert; and
+      there are some sensible people nowadays who believe that Tubal's second
+      and very suggestive name should be coupled with the names of many more
+      recent performers on musical instruments.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You do not allude to the gentleman who is playing that new instrument&mdash;I
+      mean that very ancient instrument&mdash;by the side of Dr. Burney?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, surely not. That gentleman is one of the most notable performers of
+      our age, Mr. Barlowe. I ask you plainly, sir, have you ever seen, even at
+      a raree show, a musician who could play an instrument with his ear and
+      produce such a good effect? You can easily believe that a vast amount of
+      ingenuity is needed to produce even the simplest sound in that way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I had not it demonstrated before my eyes I should not believe it
+      possible. I protest, sir, that the effect is very pretty. Is't not so,
+      Miss Burney?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young man turned to Fanny, who was doing her best to refrain from an
+      outburst of laughter; she could not trust herself to put her cup of tea to
+      her lips while her brother was continuing his fooling. She thought that it
+      was scarcely good manners of him to play such a jest upon a visitor,
+      though she knew the ward-room code of manners which her naval brother had
+      acquired was very liberal on such points. She was about to give Mr.
+      Barlowe a hint of the truth of Sir Joshua's ear-trumpet, but James,
+      perceiving her intention, defeated it by saying in a tone above a whisper:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cain&mdash;we mentioned Cain, did we not, Mr. Barlowe? Oh, yes; and it
+      must have occurred to you how strangely customs have altered during the
+      past ten years&mdash;how strongly opposed people are to-day to principles
+      that were accepted without demur so recently as in our own boyhood. You
+      take my meaning, sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Barlowe did not look as if he quite grasped Lieutenant Burney's drift,
+      and Fanny felt it incumbent on her to prevent further fooling (as he
+      thought she would) by remarking:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My brother means, Mr. Barlowe, that 'tis remarkable how many changes are
+      being made in many ways&mdash;but what he had in his mind was, of course,
+      in respect to the forte-piano&mdash;on which my father and sister are
+      playing a duet: only a few years ago no one thought to improve upon the
+      harpsichord; and yet my father asserts that in a short time the
+      harpsichord will be no more than a curiosity&mdash;that the forte-piano&mdash;or
+      as we simply call it now, the piano, will take its place in every
+      household. That is what you meant, was it not, James?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was thinking of Cain and his profession&mdash;Cain, the good old
+      murderer, rather than of Tubal Cain, who was perhaps equally criminal in
+      inventing the liveliest source of human torture,&rdquo; replied James gravely.
+      &ldquo;Yes, I was thinking&mdash;suggested by the mention of Cain&mdash;how
+      strange people nowadays would regard my father's intentions regarding my
+      future when he assumed that I should have the best chance for cultivating
+      my bent, which he had early recognized in me, by sending me, before it
+      became too late, to be educated for the profession to an accomplished
+      murderer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER X
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">Y</span>OUNG Mr. Barlowe
+      started so violently that he spilt his tea over his knees; for just before
+      James had uttered his last sentence the music stopped, but as it had been
+      somewhat loud in the final bars, and James had raised his voice in the
+      same proportion, the inertia of his tone defied any attempt to modulate
+      it, so that it was almost with a shout that he had declared that he had
+      been sent to be educated in his profession to a murderer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny was too much overcome by the ludicrous aspect of the contretemps to
+      be able to laugh. Her brother, who had had no intention of startling
+      anyone in the room except young Mr. Barlowe, hung his head and was
+      blushing under the South Sea tan of his skin; Sir Joshua Reynolds had
+      heard nothing after the crashing chords that concluded the duet; but poor
+      Miss Reynolds almost sprang from her chair in horror.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Burney was very angry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have been making a fool of yourself as usual, James,&rdquo; she cried.
+      &ldquo;Pray give Mr. Barlowe another cup of tea, Fanny. I vow that 'tis a shame
+      for you, James Burney, to treat such a company as though you were on the
+      deck of the <i>Adventure</i> facing your South Sea savages.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But Dr. Burney, with his customary tact, raised a hand half reprovingly
+      toward his wife.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Give Mr. Barlowe his cup, and then pass one to me, Fanny,&rdquo; he said,
+      rising from the piano. &ldquo;You know that James has spoken no more than the
+      truth, my dear,&rdquo; he added, smiling at his wife. &ldquo;I can see that the rascal
+      has been fooling while our backs were turned to him; but we know that he
+      spoke no more than the truth&mdash;at least in that one sentence which he
+      bawled out for us. He was, indeed, sent to a school where he was placed
+      under an accomplished usher who was some time after hanged as a murderer.
+      You see, madam&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; he had turned, still smiling, to Miss
+      Reynolds, thereby doing much to restore her confidence in the sanity of
+      the family&mdash;&ldquo;You see that James was from the first so desperate a
+      young rascal that, just as a boy who is an adept at figures is educated
+      for the counting-house, and one who spends all the day before he is six
+      picking out tunes on the harpsichord should be apprenticed, as I was, to a
+      musician, so we thought our James should be sent whither he could be
+      properly grounded in the only profession at which he was likely to excel.
+      But, alas! the poor usher was carried off by the police, tried at the next
+      assizes and duly hanged before James had made much progress in his
+      studies; but I believe that a few years in the navy does as much for a
+      youth who has made up his mind to succeed, as a protracted course under a
+      fully qualified criminal.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Reynolds looked as if she were not quite certain that, in spite of
+      his smiles, Dr. Burney was jesting; but when Mrs. Burney, seeing how her
+      husband's mock seriousness was likely to produce a wrong impression upon
+      plain people, said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must recall hearing about Mr. Eugene Aram some years back, Mrs.
+      Reynolds,&rdquo; that lady showed that her mind was greatly relieved.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I recall the matter without difficulty,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;The man was usher at
+      the grammar school at Lynn.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And no school had a more learned teacher than that unfortunate man,&rdquo; said
+      Sir Joshua. Young Mr. Barlowe had been divided in his amazement at what
+      Dr. Burney had said, and at the sight of Sir Joshua holding the trumpet to
+      his ear, though the instrument remained mute. He had never found himself
+      within the circle of so startling a society. He wished himself safe at
+      home in the Poultry, where people talked sense and made no attempt to blow
+      a trumpet with their ears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;James had acquired quite a liking for poor Aram,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney, &ldquo;and,
+      indeed, I own to having had a high opinion of the man's ability myself. It
+      was to enable him to purchase books necessary for his studies in philology
+      that he killed his victim&mdash;a contemptible curmudgeon named Johnstone.
+      I fear that all our sympathy was on the side of the usher.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was greatly interested in Mr. Aram, and read a full account of his
+      trial,&rdquo; said Sir Joshua.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wonder that a man of so sensitive a mind as his did not so brood over
+      his crime as to cause suspicion to fall on him earlier than it did.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only upon one occasion it seemed that he was affected by an incident
+      which might possibly have awakened some suspicion in the mind of a person
+      given to suspicion,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;James had been presented with a copy of the translation of Gessner's
+      'Death of Abel'&mdash;everyone was going mad about the book that year&mdash;more
+      copies were sold of it than of any translation since Pope's 'Homer,' but I
+      fancy James found it dull enough reading. He had it on his knee trying to
+      get through a page or two in case the kind donor might question him upon
+      it, when the usher came up. He took the volume in his hand and glanced at
+      the title. Down the book fell from his grasp and he hurried away without a
+      word&mdash;'as if he had been stung,' James said, in telling us about it,
+      to excuse the broken cover. Of course, I never gave a thought to the
+      matter at the time; but when I heard of the arrest of Eugene Aram the
+      following year, I recalled the incident.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should like to make a picture of the scene, and name it 'Remorse,'&rdquo;
+       said Reynolds.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      (<i>He never did make such a picture; many years had passed, and
+      Lieutenant Burney had become an Admiral before his narration of the
+      incident touched the imagination of a poet who dealt with it in verse that
+      has thrilled a good many readers.</i>)
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thomas Barlowe was not greatly thrilled by the story as told by Dr.
+      Burney. He seemed rather shocked to find himself at the table with someone
+      who had been taught by a murderer. He glanced furtively at James Burney,
+      who had remained silent since the contretemps that had prevented him from
+      perfecting his fooling of Thomas; and the result of Thomas's scrutiny at
+      that moment was to cause Thomas a tremor; for who could say what fearful
+      knowledge Lieutenant Burney might have acquired during his intercourse
+      with the murderer&mdash;knowledge which might jeopardize the safety of a
+      simple visitor like himself? Thomas felt that no ordinary person could be
+      accounted absolutely safe in a company that included a tall, able-bodied
+      young naval man who had begun his education under a murderer and had gone
+      to complete it among the cannibals of the South Seas; and, in addition, an
+      elderly gentleman who fancied that he could bring any sound out of a
+      trumpet by pressing it to his ear instead of his lips, and had shown
+      himself ready to extol the scholarship of any man who had been hanged.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But then Thomas looked at Fanny, and she pleased him more than ever. She
+      was so demure, so modest, so shy. She had a very pretty blush, and she did
+      not play on the piano. It was a thousand pities, he felt, that such a girl
+      should be compelled to remain in such uncongenial companionship. All the
+      time that Dr. Burney and his other daughter were playing a second duet,
+      and the silly gentleman holding the bell of his trumpet to the case of the
+      piano, still fondly believing that he was also a performer with the
+      mouth-piece in his ear, Thomas Barlowe was feeling wave after wave of pity
+      passing over him for the unhappy position of the shy girl in the midst of
+      so doubtful a household. Before long his compassion for her so stimulated
+      his imagination that he began to think of the possibility of his rescuing
+      her&mdash;he began to think of himself in the character of a hero&mdash;he
+      did not remember the name of any particular hero who had carried off a
+      young woman who was placed in a similar situation to that occupied by Miss
+      Burney; but he had no doubt that more than one romance was founded upon
+      the doings of such a man as he felt himself fully qualified to be, if he
+      made up his mind to assume such a rôle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As the music continued&mdash;it was an arrangement of Bach's <i>Orfèo</i>&mdash;Thomas
+      Barlowe became more and more resolute. He would be the heroic person who
+      should appear at the right moment and achieve the emancipation of that
+      sweet and shy girl, who by no fault of hers was forced to live in that
+      house and remain, if she could, on friendly terms with her father and
+      sisters, who kept strumming on the piano, and with her brother, who was
+      ready to boast of having received the rudiments of his education from a
+      murderer. All that he needed was the opportunity to show his heroism, and
+      he did not doubt that when he set his mind to work on the matter, he would
+      have such an opportunity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      If anyone had whispered in his ear that his inward consciousness of being
+      equal to the doing of great deeds was solely due to the music which was
+      being played, and to which he was unwillingly listening, he would have
+      been indignant. He would have thought it preposterous had it been
+      suggested to him that the effect of that strumming was to make him feel
+      more like a god than a man&mdash;to be ready to face hell for the love of
+      a woman, as Jean Sebastian Bach imagined Orpheus doing for Eurydice. But
+      Jean Sebastian Bach knew what he was about when he had composed his <i>Orfèo</i>,
+      and Dr. Burney was quite equal to the business of interpreting his aims,
+      and of urging his daughter Susan to join with him in impressing them upon
+      even so unimpressionable a nature as that of Thomas Barlowe; so that while
+      Thomas Barlowe believed that this music was one of the most petty of all
+      human interests, it was making him think such thoughts as had never before
+      entered his mind&mdash;it was giving him aspirations from which in
+      ordinary circumstances he would have shrunk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The master musician and his interpreters were making sport of him, leading
+      him if not quite into the region of the heroic, at least to the boundary
+      of that region, and supplying him with a perspective glass, as the
+      Interpreter did to the Pilgrims, by the aid of which he might see the
+      wonderful things that had been beyond his natural scope.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And that was how it came about that he gazed into Miss Burney's eyes and
+      pressed her hand at parting with a tenderness he had never previously
+      associated with his leave-taking. He felt sure that Miss Burney would
+      understand what he meant, though he knew that he would have difficulty in
+      expressing it all to her in words; for the effect of the music was to make
+      him feel that he could put so much feeling into a look, into a squeeze of
+      the hand, as would touch the heart of any young woman and cause her to be
+      certain that she might trust him though all other help might fail her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That was the effect which the heroic music had upon him, though he did not
+      know it; it made him feel willing to face hell for her sake at that
+      moment, and even until he had walked through more than a mile of the
+      network of streets that lay between Leicester Fields and the Poultry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the effect of such an intoxicant as music upon such a nature as his is
+      not lasting. Before he had reached Cheapside his own individuality was
+      beginning to assert itself; and he wondered if he had not gone too far for
+      discretion&mdash;discretion being, according to his reckoning, the power
+      to withdraw from a position that might compromise him. And before he
+      reached his home he had got the length of wondering how he had so far
+      forgotten himself as to yield to that compromising impulse represented by
+      the gaze and the squeeze. He could not for the life of him understand what
+      had come over him at that moment; for he had by no means satisfied himself
+      that Miss Burney was the young woman who would make him comfortable as his
+      wife. He still thought highly of her on account of her modesty and her
+      dainty shyness, but marriage was a serious matter, and he was not sure
+      that he should take her for his wife.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the whole, he felt that he had had a very trying evening&mdash;between
+      the Lieutenant who had so nearly qualified to practise as a murderer, and
+      the father and daughter who seemed ready to strum their duets until
+      midnight, to say nothing of the foolish gentleman who tried to play the
+      trumpet with his ear; and Thomas made up his mind that he would not trust
+      himself into the midst of so unusual a circle until he was certain that he
+      wanted to marry the young woman whose hand he had, for some reason or
+      other, pressed at parting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Mrs. Burney had noticed much more clearly than Fanny had done the
+      expression that the face of Thomas Barlowe had worn when he had looked
+      into the girl's eyes; she had measured to the fraction of a second the
+      duration of his holding of her hand beyond the time essential for the
+      discharge of the ordinary courtesy of a hand-shake; and she was satisfied
+      that Thomas was progressing in his wooing of the least attractive and
+      certainly the least accomplished member of the family. The good woman
+      thought, however, that it was rather a pity that her husband and Susan had
+      persisted in the practice of their duets; for by doing so they had not
+      given a chance to Thomas and Fanny of being alone together.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But, looking back upon the incidents of the evening, she came to the
+      conclusion that, on the whole, she had no reason to complain of the
+      progress that was being made in the young man's wooing. She was no
+      believer in undue haste in this respect; and had not Thomas looked into
+      Fanny's eyes at the close of the evening? Yes, at the close; and that
+      proved to her satisfaction that he had not suffered discouragement by the
+      maladroit conversation about Mr. Eugene Aram. The unhappy episode upon
+      which her husband had dwelt with far too great attention to its details,
+      was one to which she herself had never alluded; for at Lynn, where she had
+      lived all her life previous to being married to Dr. Burney, the Eugene
+      Aram episode was regarded as a scandal to be ignored by those of the
+      inhabitants whose children had attended the school where he had been
+      usher. It was a distinctly favourable sign of the impression made upon
+      young Mr. Barlowe by Fanny, that he had gazed into her eyes in spite of
+      his having been made aware of the connection of the family with the
+      tragedy of that wretched schoolmaster. Mrs. Burney took no account of the
+      effect of Bach's marvellous music upon a young man who was a lover in the
+      rough. In this respect, as has been indicated, she did not differ from the
+      young man himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XI
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T was at the
+      Pantheon in the Oxford Road a fortnight later, that Mrs. Thrale, the
+      brewer's lively wife, had an opportunity of shining, by a display of that
+      <i>esprit</i> which caused Mr. Garrick to affirm solemnly that if she had
+      gone upon the stage she would have been a dangerous rival to Mistress
+      Clive; and Fanny Burney, with her father and Mr. Linley, the father of the
+      beautiful Mrs. Sheridan, was a witness of the ease with which the lady
+      sparkled as she described for the benefit of the circle how Mr. Garrick's
+      jest at the expense of poor Mr. Kendal and the Widow Nash had set all the
+      Wells laughing. She imitated Mr. Garrick to his face, in offering his
+      congratulations to Mr. Kendal and so setting the ball a-rolling until
+      within an hour the poor, silly gentleman had been offered the
+      felicitations of half the Wells upon his engagement to Widow Nash. Mrs.
+      Thrale re-enacted with great gravity the part she had played in Mr.
+      Garrick's plot, and then she hastened to imitate Mrs. Cholmondeley's part,
+      and even Mr. Sheridan's, upon that lively morning at Tunbridge Wells.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But there was much more to tell, and Mrs. Thrale took very good care to
+      abate nothing of her narrative; it gave her so good a chance of acting,
+      and it gave Mr. Garrick so good a chance of complimenting her before all
+      the company.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I vow that we played our parts to perfection,&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;and
+      without any rehearsal either. But then what happened? You will scarce
+      believe it, Mr. Garrick has always borne such a character for scrupulous
+      honour in his dealings with his companies, but indeed 'tis a fact that our
+      manager decamped as soon as he found that the poor man had been teased to
+      the verge of madness by the fooling he had started&mdash;off he went, we
+      knew not whither; leaving no message for any of us. He was not to be found
+      by noon; and what happened by dinner-time? Why, the poor gentleman whom we
+      had been fooling had also fled!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That was indeed too bad of Mr. Kendal,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Twas too inconsiderate of him truly,&rdquo; cried Mrs. Thrale. &ldquo;'Tis no great
+      matter if the manager of the playhouse runs away when his play is produced&mdash;you
+      remember that Mr. Colman hurried off to Bath to escape lampooners when the
+      success of Dr. Goldsmith's comedy <i>She Stoops to Conquer</i> had proved
+      to all the town that he was no judge of a play; but for the one who has
+      been made the object of such a jest as ours to escape without giving us a
+      chance of bringing our teasing to a fitting climax is surely little short
+      of infamous.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And when did you design the fitting climax to arrive, madam?&rdquo; asked one
+      of the circle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, when the gentleman and lady should come face to face in the Assembly
+      Rooms, to be sure,&rdquo; replied Mrs. Thrale. &ldquo;We were all there to await the
+      scene of their meeting; and you can judge of our chagrin when only the
+      lady appeared.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We can do so, indeed,&rdquo; said Mrs. Darner, who was also in the circle. &ldquo;I
+      can well believe that you were furious. When one has arranged a burletta
+      for two characters 'tis infamous when only one of the actors appears on
+      the stage.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Thrale smiled the smile of the lady who knows that she is harbouring
+      a surprise for her friends and only awaits the right moment to spring it
+      upon them&mdash;a cat to be let out of the bag at the pulling of a string.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I knew that we should have your sympathy, Mrs. Darner,&rdquo; she said
+      demurely. &ldquo;You have, I doubt not, more than once experienced all the
+      chagrin that follows the miscarrying of a well-planned scheme. But as it
+      so happened, we were more than compensated for our ill-usage at that time
+      by the unlooked-for appearance of the missing actor two nights later.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, lud!&rdquo; cried Mrs. Darner, holding up both her hands in a very dainty
+      way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Garrick also lifted up his hands in amazement, but he did not need to
+      exclaim anything to emphasize the effect of his gesture.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Burney smiled, trying to catch the eye of Mr. Garrick, but Mr. Garrick
+      took very good care that he should not succeed in doing so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may well cry, 'oh, lud!'&rdquo; said Mrs. Thrale. &ldquo;But if you had been in
+      the Rooms when the man entered you would not have been able to say a word
+      for surprise, I promise you. The poor gentleman had posted all the way
+      from town to Tunbridge, apparently for our diversion only, and what a
+      sight he was! It seems that he had got over his fright at the coupling of
+      his name with the lady's, while flying to London, but from this point a
+      reaction set in, and he spent all the time that he was posting back to the
+      Wells adding fuel to the fire of his resolution to throw himself at the
+      feet of the lady at the earliest possible moment. Was there ever such a
+      comedy played, Mr. Garrick?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Twould be too extravagant for the theatre, madam, but not for Nature's
+      playhouse,&rdquo; replied Garrick. &ldquo;I have more than once been told the story of
+      soldiers having fled in a panic from the field of battle, but on finding
+      themselves in a place of safety they returned to the fight and fought like
+      demons. Was there aught that could be termed demoniacal in the gentleman's
+      conduct on finding himself face to face with the enemy&mdash;I mean the
+      lady?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aught demoniacal, do you ask me?&rdquo; cried Mrs. Thrale. &ldquo;Oh, sir, have you
+      not heard the parable of the demon that was cast out of a man, but finding
+      its homeless condition unsupportable, sought out seven of its friends and
+      returned with them to its former habitation, so that the last state of the
+      man was more demoniacal than the first?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I fancy I have heard the parable, madam, but its application&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+       began Garrick, when Mrs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Darner broke in upon him, crying:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do not ever attempt to point out the aptness of the application of a
+      parable, Mrs. Thrale. Do not, if you are wise. Would you lead us to
+      believe that the unhappy wretch found it necessary to post up to town to
+      obtain his relay of demons for his own discomfiture when so much rank and
+      fashion was at the Wells, though at the fag end of the season?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Leaving parables aside, demons and all, I can bear witness to the
+      condition of the man when he entered the Rooms and strode with
+      determination on his face up to where the Widow Nash was fanning herself&mdash;not
+      without need,&rdquo; said Mrs. Thrale. &ldquo;It so happened that she was seated under
+      the gallery at the furthest end of the Rooms, but our gentleman did not
+      pause on entering to look round for her&mdash;I tell you that it seemed as
+      if he went by instinct straight up to her, and bowing before her, said:
+      'Madam, may I beg the honour of a word or two with you in private?'&mdash;I
+      was close by and so were several other equally credible witnesses, and we
+      heard every word. The widow looked at him coolly&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, you said she had been fanning herself,&rdquo; remarked Mrs. Darner, but
+      without interrupting the flow of the narrative.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There was no need of a fan for her voice, I can assure you, when she had
+      completed her survey of the dusty gentleman and thought fit to reply to
+      him,&rdquo; continued Mrs. Thrale. &ldquo;'I vow, sir,' said she, 'that I consider
+      this room sufficiently private for anything you have to say to me.' She
+      had plainly got wind of Mr. Garrick's plot and so was fully prepared for
+      the worst&mdash;though some people might call it the best&mdash;that could
+      happen. 'Madam,' said Mr. Kendal, 'what I have to say is meant for your
+      ear alone,' and I am bound to admit that he spoke with suavity and
+      dignity. 'Pray let my friends here be the judges of that,' said the widow.
+      That was a pretty rebuff for any gentleman with a sense of his own
+      dignity, you will say; but he did not seem to accept it in such a spirit.
+      He hesitated, but only for a few moments, then he looked around him to see
+      who were within hearing, and with hardly a pause, he said in the clearest
+      of tones, 'I perceive that we are surrounded just now with some ladies
+      who, two days ago, offered me congratulations upon my good fortune in
+      winning your promise, madam; and I venture now to come before you to
+      implore of you to give me permission to assume that their congratulations
+      were well founded'&mdash;those were his words; we did not think that he
+      had it in him to express himself so well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what was the lady's reply?&rdquo; asked Dr. Burney, recalling the prophecy
+      in which he had indulged when parting from Garrick at his own door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The lady's reply was disappointing, though dignified,&rdquo; replied Mrs.
+      Thrale. &ldquo;'Sir,' she said, 'I have oft heard that the credulity of a man
+      has no limits, but I have never before had so conspicuous an instance of
+      the truth of this. Surely the merest schoolboy would have been able to
+      inform you that you were being made the victim of one of Mr. Garrick's
+      silly jests&mdash;that these ladies here lent themselves to the
+      transaction, hoping to make a fool of me as well as of you; but I trust
+      that they are now aware of the fact that I, at least, perceived the truth
+      from the first, so that whoever has been fooled I am not that person; and
+      so I have the honour to wish you and them a very good evening.' Then she
+      treated us to a very elaborate curtsey and stalked away to the door,
+      leaving us all amazed at her display of dignity&mdash;real dignity, not
+      the stage imitation, Mr. Garrick.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You should have been there, if only to receive a lesson, Mr. Garrick,&rdquo;
+       said Mrs. Damer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope those who had the good fortune to be present were taught a
+      lesson,&rdquo; said another lady in the circle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you mean me, madam,&rdquo; said Mrs. Thrale, with tactful good humour, &ldquo;I
+      frankly allow that I profited greatly by observing the scene. 'Tis a
+      dangerous game to play&mdash;that of trying to show others in a ridiculous
+      light, and in future I vow that all my attention shall be given to the
+      duty of avoiding making a fool of myself. Your jest miscarried, Mr.
+      Garrick; though how that gentleman who fled from the Wells in that
+      headlong fashion was induced to return, is beyond my knowledge.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Psha! madam, the fellow is a coxcomb and not worth discussing,&rdquo; cried
+      Garrick. &ldquo;He got no more than his deserts when the lady left him to be the
+      laughing-stock of the Assembly. I knew that that would be his fate if he
+      ever succeeded in summing up sufficient courage to face her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But strange to say, we did not laugh at him then,&rdquo; said Mrs. Thrale. &ldquo;He
+      seemed to be quite a different man from the one whom we had tried to fool
+      two days earlier. There was a certain dignity about him that disarmed us.
+      You must allow, Mr. Garrick, that only the bravest of men would have had
+      the courage to march up the Assembly Rooms and make his proposal to the
+      lady in public.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is the courage of the coxcomb who believes himself to be
+      irresistible to the other sex, madam,&rdquo; said Garrick; &ldquo;and I affirm that
+      'twas most reprehensible to refrain from laughing at him.&rdquo; Then, putting
+      his arm through that of Burney as if to stroll on with him, and so give
+      the others to understand that he had had enough of Mr. Kendal as a topic,
+      he whispered:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha, my friend, did not I prophesy aright what would be the fellow's fate?
+      I know men, and women, too&mdash;ay, in some measure, though they are
+      sealed books, eh, friend Burney? And you tried to persuade me that she
+      would not snub him? I knew better&mdash;I knew that she&mdash;eh, what&mdash;what
+      are they staring at?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are staring at the appearance of Mr. Kendal with the Widow Nash on
+      his arm&mdash;there they are, David, and you are staring at them too,&rdquo;
+       said Burney with a smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Angels and Ministers of Grace! 'Tis a man and his wife we are staring at!
+      The woman has married him after all!&rdquo; cried David, his hand dropping
+      limply from Burney's shoulder. &ldquo;A man and his wife: I know the look in
+      their faces!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XII
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T was, indeed, the
+      same man who had come to consult Dr. Burney, but had not been allowed the
+      chance of doing so by Garrick, a fortnight before&mdash;the same man, but
+      with a marked difference, who was now walking across the pillared room in
+      the Pantheon, with a smiling, well-favoured lady by his side; and toward
+      the pair the eyes of all the circle whom Mrs. Thrale had been addressing
+      were directed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Thrale and her friends were too much amazed to be able to speak, but
+      the lips of every one of them were holding back some exclamation of
+      surprise: an acute observer would have been able easily to set down the
+      various unuttered exclamations of the party, from the simple &ldquo;Oh, Lud!&rdquo; of
+      Mrs. Thrale to the more emphatic &ldquo;Merciful Powers!&rdquo; of Mrs. Cholmondeley,
+      though not a word was spoken between them, while Mr. Kendal and the lady
+      walked, straight through the room to where they were standing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Slip behind the pillar: I will cover you, my friend,&rdquo; whispered Dr.
+      Burney to Garrick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Garrick had no intention of doing anything so ignominious&mdash;more
+      especially as he perceived that Mr. Kendal had caught sight of him; and it
+      was really Garrick who advanced to meet the couple, with the air of a host
+      about to welcome two long-expected guests&mdash;it was really Garrick who
+      received them with one of his finest bows, and who&mdash;to add to the
+      amazement of the group behind him&mdash;was greeted by Mr. Kendal and the
+      lady with the friendliest of smiles (the lady was blushing, not Mr.
+      Garrick).
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then it was to Dr. Burney the gentleman turned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear sir,&rdquo; he cried, &ldquo;with what words should I approach you? It is to
+      your counsel and Mr. Garrick's that I owe my happiness.&rdquo; Then he made his
+      bow to the others of the group.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mrs. Thrale,&rdquo; he said, when he had recovered himself, &ldquo;we hoped to find
+      you here with your friends, so that we might lose no moment in offering
+      you our thanks for the tactful way in which you brought us together. Only
+      such genius as yours, madam, could have perceived&mdash;well, all that you
+      did perceive. I protest that neither Mrs. Kendal nor myself apprehended
+      the too flattering truth. But the heart of a woman who has herself loved&mdash;ah,
+      that is the source of such genius as you displayed with such subtlety. She
+      is mine, madam; we have been married a whole week, and I, at least, know
+      what a treasure&mdash;but I cannot trust myself to talk of my happiness
+      just now. Perhaps at some future time I shall be able to tell you
+      coherently how I felt within me that my Diana&mdash;Mrs. Nash, as she was
+      then&mdash;did not mean her rebuff as a final dismissal, and thus I was
+      led to her side&mdash;to implore an audience of her, in the course of
+      which she confessed to me that&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But his bride prevented the flow of his eloquence by tapping him under the
+      chin in exquisite playfulness with her fan, smiling roguishly at him
+      first, and then looking round the group with an air of chastened triumph
+      while she said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Foolish man! Prithee remember, Ferdinand, that you are in a public place,
+      and that the secrets of the confessional are sacred. I protest that you
+      are exceeding a husband's privilege in revealing aught that I confessed
+      when taken aback at your sudden appearance before me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I ask your pardon, my angel,&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;I had no right to say even the
+      little that I have said. I suppose I shall learn discretion in time and
+      with practice. But when I think of the kindly interest that some of our
+      friends here showed in bringing us together, I feel that they should be
+      rewarded by a repetition of the whole story.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, nay, sir, you may take my word for it that we look not for such a
+      reward,&rdquo; cried Garrick. &ldquo;Such philanthropists as Mrs. Thrale and myself
+      feel more than rewarded when we succeed in bringing together a lady and
+      gentleman who were so plainly intended by Providence for each other's
+      happiness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was Mr. Garrick who looked with the eyes of Providence into your case
+      as associated with Mr. Kendal, madam. That is, if Puck may ever be thought
+      of as assuming the rôle of Providence,&rdquo; said Mrs. Thrale. &ldquo;For myself, I
+      believe that Puck has more to do with the making of matches than heaven;
+      and assuredly in this particular case the mischievous fairy had more than
+      a finger. But however that may be, we can still wish you every happiness
+      in life, and offer you an apology for&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;H'sh!&rdquo; whispered Garrick, raising a hand. &ldquo;Rauzzini is beginning to sing.
+      I am sure, Mrs. Kendal, that you will willingly accept Signor Rauzzini's
+      song in lieu of Mrs. Thrale's apology, however admirably worded the latter
+      were sure to be.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The bride smiled benignly at Mrs. Thrale, and there was more than a trace
+      of triumph in her smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Burney smiled also at the adroitness of the actor, who, he could
+      perceive, had no intention of allowing himself to be incriminated by any
+      confession, assuming the form of an apology, that Mrs. Thrale might make
+      in a moment of contrition for having been a partner with him in a piece of
+      fooling that had had a very different result from the one he (and she) had
+      looked for.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Garrick, still holding up a warning finger as if he had at heart the best
+      interests of the composer as well as the singer of &ldquo;Waft her, Angels,&rdquo;
+       prevented another word from being spoken, though more than a full minute
+      had passed before Rauzzini had breathed the first notes of the recitativo.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But incautiously lowering his finger when the handsome Roman had begun,
+      Mrs. Thrale took advantage of her release from the thraldom imposed upon
+      her, to say in a low tone, looking toward the gallery in front of which
+      the singer stood:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is one angel talking to the others! Was there ever so angelic a man?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And little Miss Burney, who had also her eyes fixed upon the singer, felt
+      that little Mrs. Thrale was not merely an angel, but a goddess. She
+      expressed her opinion to this effect in her next letter to Mr. Crisp.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She listened in a dream to the singing that no one could hear and remain
+      unmoved, even though one had not the advantage of looking at the singer at
+      the same time. Fanny Burney was too shortsighted to be able to distinguish
+      one face from another at such a distance; but this made no difference to
+      her; she had the face of the sweet singer ever before her&mdash;most
+      clearly when she closed her eyes, as she did now, and listened to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Waft her, angels, to the skies&mdash;Waft her, angels, waft her, angels,
+      waft her to the skies,&rdquo; rang out his fervent imploration, and she felt
+      that there were no powers that could withstand the force of such an
+      appeal. For herself she felt carried away on the wings of song into the
+      highest heaven. She felt that harps of heaven alone could provide an
+      adequate accompaniment to such a voice as his; and she gave herself up to
+      it as unreservedly as a bride gives herself to the arms of her lover. She
+      had that sensation of a sweet yielding to the divine influence of the
+      music until she could feel it enfolding her and bearing her into the
+      infinite azure of a realm more beautiful than any that her dreams had
+      borne her to in the past. She wanted nothing better than this in any
+      world. All that she wanted was an assurance that it would continue for
+      ever and ever....
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With the cessation of the singing she seemed to awaken from a dream of
+      divine delight, and in her awaking to retain the last thought that had
+      been hers&mdash;the longing for an assurance that the delight which she
+      was feeling would endure. She was awake now, and she knew that love had
+      been all her dream, and that what she longed for was the assurance that
+      that love would continue. And now she remembered that it was this same
+      longing that had brought about her resolution that she would never go to
+      her King as the beggar maid had gone to King Cophetua. There would be no
+      assurance of the continuing of love between them if she had the
+      humiliating feeling that he had stooped to raise her to his level.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That was the thought which took possession of her mind when she had
+      returned from the sublimities to which she had been borne by her lover's
+      singing, and in another minute the reaction had come. She had been soaring
+      high, but now she was conscious of a sinking at heart; for the whole
+      building was resounding with acclamations of the singer. There did not
+      seem to be anyone silent, save only herself, throughout the hall. Everyone
+      seemed calling the name of Rauzzini&mdash;all seemed ready to throw
+      themselves at his feet; and when he stood up to acknowledge their tribute
+      of enthusiasm to his marvellous powers, there was something of frenzy in
+      the way his name was flung from hundreds of voices&mdash;it was not enough
+      for the people whom he had stirred to shout his name, they surrounded him
+      with the banners of a great conqueror&mdash;the air was quivering with the
+      lace and the silk that were being waved on all sides to do him honour&mdash;handkerchiefs,
+      scarves, fans&mdash;the air was full of them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And there he stood high above them, smiling calmly and bending his head
+      gravely to right and left in acknowledgment of all....
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That was his position before the world. Her heart sank within her as she
+      asked herself what was hers. How could she ever hope to attain to such a
+      place as should win from the world such applause as this? How could she
+      ever be so vain as to think that the giving of a little book to the world
+      should have an effect worthy of being compared with this demonstration
+      which was shaking the Pantheon?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her heart sank to a deeper depth still when the thunders had passed away&mdash;reluctantly
+      as the reverberations of a great storm&mdash;and there was a buzz of
+      voices all about her&mdash;exclamations of delight&mdash;whispers of
+      admiration&mdash;ladies with clasped hands, fervent in their words about
+      the marvellous face of the young Roman&mdash;and her father and his
+      friend, Mr. Fulke Greville, exchanging recollections of the singing of the
+      same air by other vocalists, and coming gradually to the conclusion that
+      none had put such feeling into it as had Rauzzini.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The buzz of voices did not cease when the singer had come down from his
+      gallery and was greeting some of his friends on the floor of the great
+      hall. He had trouble in making his way as far as the group which he meant
+      to reach. The most distinguished ladies of high quality had pressed round
+      him with uncritical expressions of appreciation of his singing, and there
+      was no lack of gentlemen of fashion to follow their example, though
+      wondering greatly that the ladies of quality should allow themselves to
+      show such transports respecting a man with no trait of a true-born
+      Englishman about him. Signor Rauzzini might have indulged in a score of
+      pinches of snuff out of the gold and enamelled boxes that were thrust
+      forward for his acceptance with the finest artificial grace of a period
+      when it was not thought effeminate to be graceful over small things.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He bowed low to the ladies of quality, and smiled his polite rejection of
+      the snuff of the gentlemen of fashion. But such convenances made it
+      impossible for him to keep his eyes upon the group toward which he was
+      making a necessarily slow way, and he only reached the side of Dr. Burney
+      to find that Dr. Burney's daughter had disappeared. He had no chance of
+      seeing how Miss Burney at his approach had slipped behind a pillar and
+      suffered herself to be conducted thence to a seat by her cousin Edward:
+      the fact that Edward was learning to be a painter was a sufficient excuse
+      for his paying an occasional visit to such scenes of colour as were
+      unfolded before the eyes of a frequenter of the fashionable Pantheon every
+      night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny felt that if Signor Rauzzini had come to her side after passing
+      through the ranks of lace and velvet and brocade, she would have sunk
+      through the floor of the hall. But she knew that it was to her side he was
+      coming, and she took the opportunity of flying when he was compelled to
+      make a pause in front of the flattery of the Duchess of Ancaster.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was painfully shy at all times, but overwhelmingly so at that moment,
+      though she knew that she was the only woman in the place who would make
+      the attempt to evade the distinction which threatened her. How could she
+      remain where she had been with all eyes in the room upon her? She felt
+      that it would be impossible.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her heart was beating quickly as she thought:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not yet&mdash;not yet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      After all there is no more womanly trait than that of fleeing from a
+      lover; but Fanny Burney was yielding to its impulse without an attempt to
+      analyse it, and without being consoled by the reflection of the woman of
+      the younger world, that if it is woman's instinct to fly from a lover, it
+      is a lover's instinct to pursue.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had scarcely finished the cup of ice which her cousin had brought her,
+      before the man had found her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But now the Gabrielli was beginning to sing, and all eyes were directed
+      upon the Gabrielli, so that no one but Rauzzini saw how Dr. Burney's
+      over-shy daughter was flushing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XIII
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HEY spoke in
+      French, with an occasional phrase in Italian when they found the other
+      tongue lacking in melody or in the exact shade of meaning that they sought
+      to express. Edward Burney thought that the moment was one that favoured
+      his ambition to study the pose of Madame Gabrielli, with a view to
+      starting on a portrait that should make him famous. He asked Fanny's
+      permission to allow him to take up a place a few yards beyond the pillar.
+      He promised not to be long absent, and Fanny had not the heart to detain
+      him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You fled from me&mdash;was that kind?&rdquo; asked Rauzzini when the cousin had
+      moved away, but was still in view.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;one who has my odious selfconsciousness does not ask what
+      is kind or unkind, she simply flies.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you knew that I was coming to your side?&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know that you are wise enough to value the criticism of a musician like
+      my father above the vapid phrases of the people of fashion,&rdquo; replied
+      Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is true indeed,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;I value a word of praise or blame from
+      Dr. Burney as precious. But Dr. Burney has a daughter whose words are to
+      me as precious.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is not here to-night,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;My sister Esther, to whom you
+      refer, is indeed a discriminating critic. She told me how exquisitely you
+      sang at the concert where you met her&mdash;it is scarcely a fortnight
+      ago.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dr. Burney has more daughters than that one,&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He has indeed more daughters than one,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;We were a household of
+      daughters before Esther married and when my brother was in the South Seas.
+      But only Esther is critical as a musician.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the name of heaven, do you think that it is only possible for me to
+      value words that refer to my singing?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;Do you not know that I
+      would rather listen to your voice than&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Than Madame Gabrielli's?&rdquo; said Fanny; he had spoken his last sentence in
+      too loud a tone, even though the Gabrielli's brilliant vocalism usually
+      admitted of a conversation being carried on with some vehemence in the
+      great room of the Pantheon without causing remark.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He smiled at her warning, and it was in a subdued voice that he said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am tired of hearing the Gabrielli; but what of your voice? How often
+      have you given me the chance of hearing it? Even now you fled from me as
+      though I carried the plague about with me! Was that kind or unkind?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You do not entertain the thought that perhaps I have not yet tired of
+      Madame Gabrielli's vocalism: I knew that she was at the point of beginning
+      her aria.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You would sacrifice me on the altar of your favourite? Well, perhaps you
+      would be justified in doing so. Hold up your finger now and I shall be
+      mute as a fish until Gabrielli has had her last shriek. I can still look
+      at you&mdash;it will not spoil your appreciation of the aria if I merely
+      look at you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think I would rather that you talked to me than merely looked at me. I
+      do not invite people to look at me, and happily few people do. I am not
+      conspicuous. I am the insignificant one. There is Mrs. Thrale, for
+      instance; she has been several times at our house, and every time she
+      comes she inquires who is the little one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He smiled and held up his finger in imitation of the way she had rebuked
+      him for talking too loud.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;H'sh; I am anxious to hear the Signora Gabrielli,&rdquo; he said, and the
+      express on that he made his face assume at that moment would have
+      convinced anyone that he was giving all his attention to the singing&mdash;drinking
+      in every note with the earnestness of an enthusiast. There was a certain
+      boyish exaggeration in his expression that was very amusing to Fanny,
+      though less observing persons would have been ready to accept it as
+      evidence of the generous appreciation on the part of one great singer of
+      the success of another.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So he remained until the <i>cavatina</i> had come to an end; and then he
+      was loudest in his cry of &ldquo;Brava!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a treat&mdash;a great&mdash;a sacred treat,&rdquo; said he, turning to
+      Fanny. &ldquo;I do not think I ever heard that song before. Has it a name, I
+      wonder?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I mistake not it is from an opera in which a certain Roman tenore made
+      a name for himself last year, in happy conjunction with Madame Gabrielli,&rdquo;
+       said Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it possible? I had not heard of that circumstance,&rdquo; said he, with a
+      look of the most charming innocence in his large eyes. It was his hands
+      that were most expressive, however, as he added:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it was last year, you say, mademoiselle? Ah, who is it that remembers
+      an opera from one year to another? No one, except the <i>impresario</i>
+      who has lost his good money, or somebody's else's money, over its
+      production. Enough, the <i>cantatrice</i> has given us of her best, and is
+      there now any reason why we should remain dumb? The great charm of the
+      singing of these brilliant artistes of last year's operas is that when
+      they have sung, they have sung&mdash;they leave one nothing to think about
+      afterward. Is not that so, mademoiselle?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They leave one nothing to think about&mdash;except their singing,&rdquo; said
+      Fanny. &ldquo;For myself, I am still thinking of 'Waft her, angels,' although
+      nearly half an hour must have passed since I heard the last notes. And it
+      seems to me that when half a century will have passed I shall still be
+      thinking of it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He did not offer her the conventional acknowledgement of a bow. He only
+      looked at her with those large eyes of his; they were capable of
+      expressing in a single glance all the tenderness of feeling of a poem.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have not sung in vain,&rdquo; he said in a low tone. &ldquo;My old <i>maestro</i>
+      gave me the advice one day when I was proving to him my success in
+      reaching the high note which I had been striving for years to bring into
+      my compass: 'That is all very well,' he said. 'You have aimed at touching
+      that rare note, now your aim must be to touch the heart of everyone who
+      hears you sing.' I sometimes think that he set for me too difficult a
+      task.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not too difficult&mdash;for you,&rdquo; said she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There are dangers,&rdquo; he said thoughtfully. &ldquo;I have known singers who tried
+      to reach the hearts of their hearers by tricks&mdash;yes, and they
+      succeeded through these illegitimate means in making themselves popular,
+      while far better singers who had a scorn of such tricks and gave their
+      best to all who listened to them, failed to please anyone who had not a
+      knowledge of the true boundary of music.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have seen these tricksters, too,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;I have witnessed their
+      sentimental grimaces&mdash;their head shakings&mdash;their appeal to the
+      feelings with pathetic eyes turned heavenward. They made me ashamed of
+      them&mdash;ashamed of myself for listening to them, though people about me
+      had been moved to tears. But I think that the people who are easily moved
+      to tears are those who retain an impression the shortest space of time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You give me confidence&mdash;encouragement,&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;I have made up my
+      mind that if I cannot reach a heart by the straight King's highway, I will
+      not try to do so by any bypath. Bypaths are, we know, the resorts of
+      brigands: they may captivate a heart or two, but only to leave them empty
+      afterwards.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So they talked together for many minutes. Faney Burney had a sufficient
+      acquaintance among musicians, vocal as well as instrumental, to have
+      learned, long ago, that they can easily be prevented from talking on any
+      other subject than music, and the same reflection that had caused her to
+      say that &ldquo;Not yet&mdash;not yet,&rdquo; had impelled her to lead Rauzzini in
+      another direction than that in which he had shown so strong a tendency to
+      go. He had been trying to make her understand that he had travelled
+      through the obstructions of the hall not in order that he might obtain the
+      criticism of so accomplished a <i>maestro</i> as Dr. Burney upon his
+      singing, but in order that he should have a chance of talking to Dr.
+      Burney's unaccomplished daughter; he had shown her that his wish was to
+      converse on the topic of this unaccomplished daughter; but she had no mind
+      to acquiesce in his aims for the present. She still felt herself to be the
+      beggar maid, and she would not allow her king to get any nearer to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was not until her cousin had returned to where she was seated, that the
+      young Italian found that he had not made much progress with his suit. He
+      had intended that this <i>tête-à-tête</i> with her should make her aware
+      of how he felt in regard to her, but he had allowed his opportunity to
+      pass, and in place of talking about her he had been led to talk of
+      himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That was how he expressed himself to her when he found that their <i>tête-à-tête</i>
+      was at an end.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How has this come about?&rdquo; he cried in surprise. &ldquo;How is it that I have
+      shown myself to be so vain as to make speeches about my singing when I
+      meant to talk to you of yourself?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Twas I who found a more profitable topic for you, <i>signore mio</i>,&rdquo;
+       she replied, feeling her way through the words of his native tongue, for
+      he had spoken out his surprise in Italian.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He shook his head and made a gesture with his hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it is a mystery!&rdquo; he said in French. &ldquo;I had no desire to talk about
+      myself or my singing. I meant to tell you what was in my mind when I saw
+      you entering this place with your father. Shall we retrace our steps in
+      our conversation until I find how it was that I took a wrong turning?
+      Alas! I fear that it would not be possible!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It would not be possible, indeed,&rdquo; she replied. &ldquo;Did you not say
+      something about the bypaths being dangerous with banditti? We kept our
+      feet upon the King's highway, which is safe. I was swept off my feet&mdash;carried
+      away&mdash;away&mdash;by your singing of the aria; I had scarce touched
+      the earth once more when you came to my side, and now we are parting
+      happily, you to realize your aspirations, I to&mdash;to&mdash;well, to
+      retain for ever the memory of your singing&mdash;the memory of those
+      celestial harmonies into the midst of which I was wafted by the angels of
+      your imploration. That is enough for one evening of my life. Nay, you must
+      not speak another word lest the charm of all should fade away. I shall go
+      home to dream of angels.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I shall go to dream of you,&rdquo; he said in a low tone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He did not hold her hand so long as Thomas Barlowe had done when parting
+      from her, but she felt that somehow he had accomplished more by his
+      reserve than Thomas had achieved by his impetuosity. She hoped that she
+      might never see Thomas again; but for Signor Rauzzini&mdash;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They parted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XIV
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HESE foreigners!&rdquo;
+       exclaimed young Edward Burney when Rauzzini had left them, and Fanny was
+      asking her cousin if her father was not looking for her. &ldquo;These
+      foreigners! Your father is talking with another of them&mdash;an Italian
+      too, as I live&mdash;I have seen him in St. Martin's Street&mdash;Signor
+      Piozzi. But I suppose Uncle Burney likes to keep in touch with them. The
+      town is swarming with them: they are even to be found about Leicester
+      Fields. Why do some people fancy that we must have Italians to sing for
+      us? There are plenty of good singers in England, without a drop of foreign
+      blood in their veins. A good sea song with a chorus that is easy to get
+      into the swing of&mdash;that's English and honest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Honest down to the hoarsest note,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;You and James are at one
+      in the matter of songs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cousin Jim hates foreigners, as is quite proper that an officer in a
+      King's ship should,&rdquo; said Edward stoutly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not all foreigners,&rdquo; said Fanny smiling. &ldquo;You forget how kindly he took
+      to Prince Omai.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, a South Sea Islander is different,&rdquo; cried her cousin. &ldquo;I expect that
+      the South Seas will soon become as English as ourselves if Captain Cook
+      goes on discovering islands.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Edward,&rdquo; said Fanny, after a pause sufficient to allow of the
+      introduction of a new topic; &ldquo;Edward, could you make it convenient to call
+      at the Orange Coffee House some day soon to inquire if there is another
+      letter for Mr. Grafton?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll not omit it on any account,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;Oh, yes, Mr. Grafton, I'll
+      collect your correspondence for you, never fear. You have not let anyone
+      else into the secret, I hope?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No one knows it except Susy and Lottie and Charles and Hetty; but Hetty
+      only knows that I wrote the book, not that it is to be printed&mdash;Charles
+      is still away from us, or I would not trouble you, Edward.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor Charlie grew tired of the Orange Coffee House, did he not? He told
+      me how you made him your messenger at first, disguising him in a cloak and
+      a gentleman's hat, so that he might not seem quite the boy that he was.
+      But how the secret has been kept so well is a wonder to me&mdash;kept from
+      the powers that be, I mean&mdash;uncle and aunt. I wonder if your mother
+      never had a suspicion of what was going on, especially as she knew all
+      about your writing long ago.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think that it was the copying out of the padre's History that saved
+      me,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;Many a page of my novel I wrote when she believed that I
+      was copying the notes for the History&mdash;yes, that, and the letters
+      which Mr. Crisp insists on my sending him every week. But even with these
+      excuses I could sometimes not get through more than three or four pages of
+      my own book during a whole week.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How will you look when the secret is let out&mdash;it must be let out
+      some day, you know? If the writing a novel is thought shocking, how will
+      Uncle Burney receive the news, think you? He has not yet given you leave
+      to publish it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a troubled look on poor Fanny's face as she replied, after a
+      pause:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have often meant to ask father's permission, but I was not able to
+      summon up courage enough to face him with the whole truth. But it cannot
+      be delayed much longer. Perhaps I might write him a letter about it some
+      time when I am at Chessington.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't envy you the duty, my dear Fanny,&rdquo; said lie. &ldquo;But I think that
+      the sooner you get it over the easier you will feel. I suppose that
+      writing a novel is worse than writing a 'History of Music.' I wonder why
+      you took so much trouble over the business.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I could not help it,&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;I have often wondered myself why I was
+      sitting up in that cold room at the top of the house, writing until my
+      fingers were benumbed, when I might have been at my comfortable sewing in
+      front of a fire downstairs; but I could not help it&mdash;I could not help
+      doing it, Eddy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Eddy never reached that point in his career as a painter when he found the
+      artist's impulse to create too great to be resisted. He could not
+      appreciate her explanation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'I couldn't help it,' that's what we were used to say long ago, when we
+      got into mischief; I hope that Uncle Burney and Aunt Burney&mdash;don't
+      forget her in this matter&mdash;I hope that they will accept your excuse.
+      Anyhow, you may trust me to act as your 'Mr. Grafton' at the Orange Coffee
+      House some day this week.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He caught a glimpse of his uncle, Dr. Burney, sitting with Mr. Greville,
+      so that he had no trouble in placing Fanny once more in charge of her
+      father. He could see that the girl was a little downcast, and tried to
+      cheer her up a bit by whispering in a sly way into her ear:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-night, Mr. Grafton; my best respects to Mrs. Grafton and the
+      children&mdash;especially Evelina.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The smile that Fanny gave in acknowledgment of his pleasantry did not
+      quite carry conviction that his well-meant effort had been successful. He
+      went away feeling as much sympathy for her as was possible for him to have
+      in common with the reflection that if she was in a difficult position, it
+      was wholly one of her own seeking. What could have induced a girl who had
+      been carefully brought up, and provided with an excellent stepmother, to
+      write a novel, placing herself thereby on a level with those dreadful
+      ladies whose productions were prohibited in every self-respecting
+      household and only read by stealth when obtained at a cost of twopence&mdash;more
+      than the best of them were worth&mdash;at the circulating library?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yes, poor Fanny was undoubtedly to be pitied; but she had really only
+      herself to blame for the trouble that was looming in front of her when the
+      secret of her authorship should be revealed to her father and her
+      excellent stepmother&mdash;one of the best judges to be found anywhere of
+      all sorts of needlework&mdash;not merely plain sewing and buttonholing,
+      but satin stitch, herring-boning and running and felling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The very next day Cousin Edward called at St. Martin's Street, carrying
+      with him a small parcel neatly done up in white paper. He was lucky enough
+      to find Fanny and Susan alone in the work-room; and after asking
+      mysteriously if there was any chance of his uncle or aunt coming upon
+      them, and being assured that they were both away for the day, he carefully
+      locked the door of the room, saying in the whisper of a man of plots and
+      mysteries:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Tis better to be sure than sorry. In matters of this nature 'tis
+      impossible to be too cautious.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He then handed the parcel to Fanny, who gave an exclamation when she saw
+      that it was addressed:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>To Mr. Grafton, at the Orange Coffee House, Orange Street</i>.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She opened the parcel, and found it to contain a printer's unbound copy of
+      a book, the title page of which stared up at her: &ldquo;<i>Evelina; or, A Young
+      Lady's Entrance into the World</i>,&rdquo; and with it was a letter from Mr.
+      Lowndes, the bookseller, presenting his compliments to Mr. Grafton, with
+      the request that Mr. Grafton would read the book and prove it as soon as
+      possible, returning the list of errata to Mr. Lowndes, so that the edition
+      might go to press for early publication.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There it lay on the table in front of her. She read the letter standing,
+      and remained on her feet, looking down at the unbound book. It had a
+      queer, half-dressed appearance, lacking covers; and when, after some
+      minutes of silence, Susy took a step or two closer to it, and, with her
+      hand on Fanny's arm, looked down on it also, the picture that they made
+      suggested two sisters looking into the cradle where the first baby of one
+      of them lay. The expression on Susy's face&mdash;a mingling of wonder and
+      curiosity, with delight not far off&mdash;was exactly that which the
+      younger sister of the picture might be expected to wear, catching a
+      glimpse of the undressed morsel of humanity in its first cot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Susy put her hand down to it, and moved the printed sheets about. She read
+      the title page down to the last name on the imprint, and then she flung up
+      her hands, crying:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How lovely! how lovely! But it seems wonderful! How did it come into
+      being? It looks like a real thing now that we see it printed. The copy
+      that you wrote out in that disguised hand seemed somehow quite different
+      from this. There is life in this. It feels warm, actually warm, Fanny. Oh,
+      don't you love it, dear?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny, the young mother, shook her head, but with no significance, so far
+      as Susy could see.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Tis too late now,&rdquo; said Edward gloomily, taking on himself the burden of
+      interpreting that head-shake. &ldquo;You are bound down to go on with it now.
+      You should have thought of all this before.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What nonsense is this you are talking?&rdquo; cried Susy, turning upon him
+      almost indignantly; for his tone suggested an aspersion upon the
+      offspring. &ldquo;What do you say is too late now? Do you mean to say that
+      there's anything to be ashamed of in this? Cannot you see that she did not
+      put her name to it? Who is there to know that it came from this house? The
+      name of Burney nowhere appears on it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's so much, at any rate,&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you mean to say that you don't think it quite wonderful, Eddy?&rdquo; cried
+      Susy. &ldquo;And getting twenty pounds for it&mdash;twenty pounds! And you say
+      something about it being too late!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I only judged from the way Fanny shook her head,&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, that was not what Fanny was thinking at all&mdash;now was it, Fanny?&rdquo;
+       said Susy encouragingly to her sister.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know quite what I meant or what I mean even now,&rdquo; replied Fanny.
+      &ldquo;It made me feel for the moment somehow as if I had appeared in a street
+      full of people before I had quite finished dressing!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; exclaimed Edward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But that is nonsense, dear,&rdquo; said Susy, still consolatory. &ldquo;The book is
+      not yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not all myself, but part of myself&mdash;that is what I feel,&rdquo; said
+      Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I cannot see that that is so. You are you&mdash;you yourself quite apart
+      from the book. Whatever the book may be, you will still remain Fanny
+      Burney, the best daughter and the best sister in the world. What does it
+      matter if people&mdash;foolish people who know nothing about it&mdash;laugh
+      at it or say nasty things about it? Do you think that that will make any
+      of us like you the less?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She put her arm about Fanny and kissed her on the cheek, and Fanny's tears
+      began to fall. The young man standing by felt more uneasy than he had ever
+      felt in his life. He crossed the room and looked out of the window,
+      turning his back upon the scene of the sisters. He did not know what to
+      say to a girl when once she allowed herself to weep. He wished with all
+      his heart that he had not been dragged into this business. But Fanny's
+      tears convinced him that his first impression of her reception of her book
+      was the correct one: she was, like other young mothers he had heard of,
+      bitterly repentant when it was too late.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next sound of which he became aware was of the crinkling of the stiff
+      paper of the wrapper. One of the girls was folding up the parcel. He
+      glanced round and saw that it was Fanny herself who was so engaged. She
+      had dried her tears; the expression on her face was one of resignation&mdash;one
+      of determination to make the best of a bad matter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, that's better,&rdquo; said he, going to her and picking up the string from
+      the floor. &ldquo;There's no use crying over spilt milk, is there, Fanny? We
+      have all kept your secret loyally, and no one need ever know that you so
+      far forgot yourself. Certainly the revelation will never come from my
+      lips.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny burst out laughing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, dear Eddy, you are the best cousin that any poor girl could have,&rdquo;
+       she said. &ldquo;Your words have helped me greatly. They have helped to make me
+      feel what is the aspect of the world in regard to my poor little story. It
+      has been my constant companion night and day for three years and more. I
+      worked at it in the cold and I tried how I could improve pages of it,
+      copying it and recopying it; I practised a duplicity which was foreign to
+      my nature in writing it&mdash;I have deceived my father and my mother
+      about it&mdash;I wasted my eyesight over it&mdash;I robbed myself of sleep
+      so that I might complete it, and when it was completed I lay awake in
+      anxiety lest no bookseller would look at it, all this trouble I had with
+      it, so that the world might have of my best, and what is the verdict of
+      the world after all this? You have pronounced it, dear Eddy&mdash;you said
+      thoughtfully and consolingly&mdash;'There's no use crying over spilt
+      milk.' You are quite right. Not another tear will I shed over this poor
+      little bantling of mine. 'A Young Lady's Entrance into the World'? Nay,
+      call it rather a rickety brat that should never have made its entrance
+      into the world at all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should be ashamed of myself if I ever spoke of it in such terms,&rdquo; cried
+      Susy, looking indignantly at her cousin as though he had abused it in that
+      phrase. &ldquo;'Rickety brat,' indeed! Oh, I should be ashamed. It looked so
+      much alive&mdash;more alive, I think, than if it was in its covers. Let us
+      sit down and read it together, Fanny.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Cousin Edward felt that he was being badly treated between these sisters.
+      That last remark of Susy was rather more than a suggestion that he might
+      go as soon as it pleased him. He had not any previous experience of young
+      women and their offspring. He could not know that their attitude in such
+      circumstances is one of hostility to the male&mdash;that they resent his
+      appearance as an intrusion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am glad that you are so pleased,&rdquo; said he, with only a trace of
+      irritability in his voice. &ldquo;And I am glad that I have been of any use to
+      you, Cousin Fanny. After all, the thing is yours, not Susy's.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is true, indeed,&rdquo; cried Fanny. &ldquo;And it is I who offer you my
+      gratitude for your help. Believe me, Eddy, I am sensible of the adroitness
+      you have shown in this matter ever since we let you into our secret; and
+      if any trouble comes from what we have done you may be quite sure that I
+      will accept the entire responsibility for it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, so far as that goes, I do not shrink from taking my share,&rdquo; said he
+      magnanimously. &ldquo;I do not feel quite without blame&mdash;I am a man and I
+      should have warned you at the outset. But you had nearly finished it
+      before I heard anything of it&mdash;you must not forget that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is true indeed,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;I was self-willed. I wonder was it
+      vanity that impelled me. Never mind! It cannot be helped now. It may never
+      be heard of again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's always that to remember,&rdquo; said he, with the eagerness of a
+      drowning man grasping at a straw.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I believe that the chances are greatly in favour of that hope being
+      realized. Thank you again for your encouragement, dear Eddy,&rdquo; said she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, that's nothing&mdash;nothing worth talking about,&rdquo; said he, picking
+      up his gloves. &ldquo;You can command me always, Cousin Fanny. And you have seen
+      that I can keep a secret. Now mind you don't leave that lying about&rdquo;&mdash;he
+      pointed to the parcel, the string of which Susy was knotting&mdash;&ldquo;and,
+      be advised by me, turn the key in the lock when you are working at it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Susy, &ldquo;we'll be sure to do our best to prevent anyone from
+      suspecting that we have a secret, by locking ourselves in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Caution&mdash;nothing like caution,&rdquo; said he in a whisper, unfastening
+      the door and putting his head out to glance to right and left of the short
+      corridor. He held up his finger. &ldquo;All safe so far,&rdquo; he whispered; &ldquo;no one
+      is in sight.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XV
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE moment he
+      disappeared, Susy slipped the knot which she had just made on the parcel
+      and flung the paper away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now we can settle down to it properly, Fanny,&rdquo; she cried, catching up the
+      bundle of unstitched sheets and throwing herself back upon the little
+      sofa. &ldquo;Come beside me, dear, and we shall go through every word together.
+      Never mind what Eddy said; I think it looks quite lovely, and how easily
+      it reads&mdash;just like poetry&mdash;'Evelina'!&mdash;how did you think
+      of that sweet name?&mdash;'<i>or, A Young Lady's Entrance into the World</i>.'
+      Not a mistake so far. The printers must surely be careful men! And now
+      that you come to think of it, this is really the entrance of the Young
+      Lady into the world. Here she is, smiling, but a little shy&mdash;just
+      like her mamma&mdash;your Evelina takes after you, dear&mdash;now, confess
+      that there is something agreeably shy in the italics printing of that line
+      beginning with '<i>A Young Lady's Entrance</i>,' Fanny; it may be wrong to
+      write a novel, but don't you think that this is worth it? Edward is a
+      goose to talk as he did about crying over spilt milk. I wonder that you
+      had patience to listen to him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eddy is a dear boy, and he only said what he knew nearly everybody else
+      would be disposed to say about this business. I started the story, as you
+      know, half in fun&mdash;by way of exercising my hand&mdash;but then it got
+      hold of me, and it became deadly earnest, and now&mdash;oh, Susy, what I
+      feel now about it is just what I said to Edward: it seems as if it were
+      the best part of myself that I am giving to the world. I wonder if it is
+      right for anyone who has written a book, if it be only a novel, to look
+      upon it in that light.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why should it not be right? Didn't you put all your thoughts into it, and
+      are not one's thoughts part of oneself?&rdquo; said Susy. &ldquo;And although so many
+      people look down upon novels&mdash;all the novels that have been written
+      since Mr. Richardson died&mdash;still&mdash;oh, did not Dr. Johnson once
+      write a novel? Yes, 'Rasselas' was what he called it. I tried to read it
+      but&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;H'sh, Susy. Dr. Johnson might write anything that he pleased. Though Dr.
+      Johnson wrote a novel, that should be no excuse for such as I having the
+      audacity to do the like.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose that's what some people will say. But I can't see that if a
+      good man does an evil thing, it becomes a good thing simply because he
+      does it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stop, Susy: I remember that he confessed to someone, who told it to Mr.
+      Crisp, that he had written 'Rasselas' in order to get money enough to pay
+      for his mother's funeral.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, in that case&mdash;might he not have written something a good deal
+      better, Fanny? Oh, I see that you are stricken with horror at my thinking
+      anything that came from Dr. Johnson to be dull. I daresay I began reading
+      it too soon: I should have waited until I had learned that if a great man
+      writes a book it is a great book, but that if a simple girl writes a novel&mdash;well,
+      there's no use crying over spilt milk. Now that's the last word that I
+      have to say, for I mean to read every word that's printed here&mdash;here&mdash;here!&rdquo;
+       She brought down her open hand on the topmost sheets of &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; in three
+      crescendo slaps, and then tucked her feet under her and buried herself in
+      the book.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny sat laughing beside her; and when Susy paid no attention to her
+      laughter, she continued sitting there in silence, while Susy read page
+      after page.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Several minutes had passed before the authoress asked:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How does the thing read, dear?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Susy gave a start at the sound of her voice and looked around her as if
+      she had just been awakened. This should have been enough for Fanny. She
+      should not have repeated her question: it was already answered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How does the thing read, Susy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How does it read?&rdquo; cried Susy. &ldquo;Oh, Fanny, it reads exactly like a book&mdash;exactly.
+      There is no difference between this and a real book. Oh, 'tis a thousand
+      times nicer to read in print than it was as you wrote it. It is so good,
+      too!&mdash;the best story I ever read! I can't understand how you ever
+      came to write it. You who have seen nothing of life&mdash;how did such a
+      story ever come to you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish I knew,&rdquo; replied Fanny. &ldquo;And do you think that anyone else will
+      read it now that it is printed?&rdquo; she asked (she was rapidly acquiring the
+      most prominent traits of the complete novel writer).
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Anyone else? Nay, everyone&mdash;everyone will read it, and everyone will
+      love it. How could anyone help&mdash;even daddy and mamma? Now please
+      don't interrupt me again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Down went Susy's face once more among the printed sheets, and Fanny
+      watched her with delight. She had been quite ready a short time before to
+      accept the verdict of Cousin Edward as equivalent to that of the public
+      upon her book; and now she was prepared to accept Susy as the
+      representative of all readers of taste and discrimination.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Edward&mdash;psha! What could he know about it?&rdquo; she was ready to
+      exclaim: every moment was bringing her nearer to the complete novelist.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Surely,&rdquo; she thought, &ldquo;there can be no dearer pleasure in life than to
+      watch the effect of one's own book upon an appreciative reader!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      (The appreciative reader is always the one who is favourably impressed;
+      the other sort knows nothing about what constitutes an interesting book.)
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the first draught of which she had ever partaken of this particular
+      cup of happiness, and it was a bombard. She was draining it to the very
+      dregs: it was making her intoxicated, even though it was only offered to
+      her by her younger sister, who had never read half a dozen novels in all
+      her life, and these surreptitiously. She could know by the varying changes
+      in expression on Susy's face what place she had come to in the book: the
+      turning over of the pages was no guide to her, for she had no idea of the
+      quantity of her writing the printers had put into a page, but she had no
+      trouble in finding Susy's place, so exquisitely reflective was the girl's
+      face of the incidents among which she was wandering. Surely little Susy
+      had always been her favourite sister (she was smiling at one of the
+      drolleries of characterization upon which she had come); oh, there could
+      be no doubt that she had never loved any of her sisters as she loved Susy
+      (Susy's eyes were now becoming watery, and Fanny knew that she had-reached
+      the first of Evelina's troubles).
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the happiest hour of Fanny's life, and she gave herself up to it.
+      She did not feel any irresistible desire to judge for herself if the
+      opinion expressed by Susy respecting the story was correct or otherwise.
+      She had no impulse to see how her ideas &ldquo;looked in print.&rdquo; She was content
+      to observe the impression they were making upon her first lay reader. She
+      had a vague suspicion that her own pleasure in reading the book would be
+      infinitely less than the pleasure she derived from following the course of
+      the story in her sister's face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Half an hour had actually passed before Susy seemed to awaken to the
+      realities of life. She jumped up from the sofa with an exclamation of
+      surprise, and then glanced down at Fanny with an inquiring look on her
+      face&mdash;a puzzled look that gave the seal to Fanny's happiness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are wondering how I come to be here, Susy,&rdquo; said she smiling. &ldquo;You
+      are wondering how I come to be mixed up with the Branghtons and the
+      Mervains and the rest of them. You would make me out to be an enchantress
+      carrying you into the midst of a strange society; and I don't want any
+      more delightful compliments, dear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Fanny, 'tis so wonderful&mdash;so&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't want to hear anything about it beyond what you have already told
+      me, my dear Susy. I watched your face and it told me all. Give me a kiss,
+      Susy. You have given me a sensation of pleasure such as I never knew
+      before, and such as, I fear, I shall never know again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In an instant the two girls were in each other's arms, mingling their
+      tears and then their laughter, but exchanging no word until they had
+      exhausted every other means of expressing what they felt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was Susy who spoke first.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take it away, Fanny,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Take the book away, for I know that if I
+      read any more of it I shall betray your secret to all the house. They will
+      read it on my face every time I look at you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think that the hour has come for me to relieve you of the precious
+      book,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;There is the letter from Mr. Lowndes asking me to make
+      out the list of errata as quickly as possible, and I do believe that I
+      shall have to read the book before I can oblige him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Twas thoughtless for me to jump into the middle as I did, when you had
+      to read it,&rdquo; cried Susy. &ldquo;But there is really no mistake on any page, so
+      far as I could see.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Unless the whole is a mistake,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;But I will not suggest that
+      now, having seen your face while you were devouring it. Dear Susy, if I
+      find many such readers I shall be happy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She gathered together the loose sheets and carried them off to the little
+      room at the top of the house where it was understood she wrote her long
+      weekly letter to Mr. Crisp, who had made himself a hermit at Chessington,
+      but who, like some other hermits, looked forward with impatience to the
+      delightful glimpses of the world which he had forsaken, afforded to him on
+      every page written by her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Susy did not see her again until dinner-time, and by that time the younger
+      girl felt that she had herself under such complete control that she could
+      preserve inviolate the secret of the authorship until it should cease to
+      be a secret. The result of her rigid control of herself was that her
+      brother James said to her when they were having tea in the drawing-room:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What was the matter with you at dinner, Sue? You looked as if you were
+      aware that something had happened and you were fearful lest it might be
+      found out. Have you broken a china ornament, or has the cat been turning
+      over the leaves of the 'History of Music' with her claws, and left her
+      signature on the morocco of the cover?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What nonsense!&rdquo; cried Susan. &ldquo;Nothing has happened. What was there to
+      happen, prithee tell me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, that is beyond my power,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;I suppose you girls will have
+      your secrets&mdash;ay, ay; until some day you reveal them to another girl
+      with the strictest of cautions never to let the matter go beyond her&mdash;and
+      so forth&mdash;and so forth. Never mind, I'll not be the one to tempt you
+      to blab. I never yet had a secret told to me that was worth wasting words
+      over.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I had a secret of importance I think that you would be a safe person
+      to tell it to,&rdquo; said Susy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are right there,&rdquo; he assented with a nautical wink. &ldquo;You could find
+      in me the safest depository you could wish for; you might safely depend
+      upon my forgetting all about it within the hour.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He did not trouble her any further, but she felt somewhat humiliated to
+      think that she had had so little control of herself as to cause her
+      brother's suspicions to be aroused. She thought that it would only be a
+      matter of minutes when her father or her stepmother would approach her
+      with further questions. Happily, however, it seemed that James was the
+      keenest observer in the household, for no one put a question to her
+      respecting her tell-tale face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Still she was glad when she found herself safely and snugly in bed and so
+      in a position to whisper across the room to her sister Charlotte the news
+      that Fanny's novel had been printed and that a copy was safely locked up
+      in Fanny's desk, and that it looked lovely in its new form.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Charlotte was greatly excited, but thought that Fanny might have told her
+      the news before dinner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor Fanny! she will have to tell the Padre to-morrow and ask his leave
+      to&mdash;to do what she has already done without it. Poor Fanny!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XVI
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> FEW days later
+      Dr. Burney was at the point of setting out for Chessington to share Mr.
+      Crisp's hermitage until the end of the week. He had already said good-bye
+      to the household; but Fanny accompanied him to the door. It was her last
+      chance, she knew. She had long ago made up her mind that one of her
+      secrets must be told to him, and she had more than once, since the printed
+      sheets had been brought to her, tried to screw up her courage to the point
+      of telling him, but she had not yet succeeded. And now he was going to
+      Chessington for four days, and in the meantime the book should be returned
+      to the printer. It was the last chance she would have of discharging the
+      duty which was incumbent on her. She had been hovering around him in the
+      hall, shaking out his gloves for him, polishing the gold knob of his cane,
+      picking a scrap of dust from the collar of his travelling-cloak. In
+      another minute he would be gone&mdash;her opportunity would be gone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then came the relieving thought of further procrastination:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall write to him at Chessington and confess all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It seemed as though she had uttered her thought aloud, for he turned to
+      her with his hand on the latch of the hall door, saying:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will write to Chessington to-morrow or the day after, my dear. It is
+      no trouble to you to write. You enjoy it, do you not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, it is my chief enjoyment. That is why I have been practising it so
+      much, just as the others have been practising their music. I have no music
+      in my soul, so I&mdash;I have been writing. Of course, it is not to be
+      expected that I could do more than write some nonsense&mdash;my equivalent
+      to the strumming of the scales.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It pleases me greatly to hear that,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;But you do yourself an
+      injustice; Mr. Crisp never ceases to praise your letters.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is praising his own pupil then,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;for 'twas he who first
+      taught me how to write, and now I have been putting together some
+      imaginary letters, and I thought that if he could see them printed in
+      front of him he would be amused.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Imaginary letters? Why not continue your real ones, my dear? It would
+      cost a great deal to have your imaginary ones printed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear father,&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;you surely do not think that I would ask you
+      for money to pay for my whim? But if I could prevail on someone&mdash;a
+      bookseller&mdash;to print what I write, I hope you will consent to my
+      doing so&mdash;not putting my name to the thing, of course?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And does my Fanny believe that 'tis all so easy to persuade a bookseller
+      to pay her printer's bill?&rdquo; he said, pinching her ear. &ldquo;Booksellers are
+      shrewd men of business.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But even men of business have their weak moments,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;And so if&mdash;if&mdash;you
+      would not think it too bold of me to let James take my parcel to a
+      bookseller? You would not forbid me to try to realize my ambition?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may be sure that the one to frustrate your aims will not be your
+      father,&rdquo; said he, smiling shrewdly. &ldquo;I will consent if&mdash;ah, there is
+      the fatal if&mdash;if your bookseller consents. Now goodbye, my dear
+      child. I will take your love to your Daddy Crisp, and tell him to await a
+      real letter from you&mdash;not an imaginary one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She stood on tiptoe to kiss him&mdash;but even then he had to stoop before
+      his lips were on her forehead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was gone in another moment. She stood at the inner side of the closed
+      door and listened to the rattling of the wheels of the chaise over the
+      cobble-stones.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So the ordeal that she dreaded had been faced, and how simple a thing it
+      had turned out after all! Her father had treated the idea which she had
+      submitted to him as if it were nothing beyond the thought of a simpleton&mdash;a
+      foolish, simple girl who knew nothing of the world of business and
+      booksellers, and who fancied that a bookseller would print everything that
+      was sent to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had delivered that contingent &ldquo;if&rdquo; with the shake of the head and the
+      shrewd smile of one who is acquainted with the seamy side of business, in
+      the presence of a child who fancies that printing follows automatically
+      upon the writing of a book and that there are thousands of buyers eagerly
+      awaiting the chance of securing everything that passes through a
+      printing-press. She had perceived just what was in his mind; and his
+      consent, followed by that contingent &ldquo;if,&rdquo; to her publishing what she had
+      written, was given to her with the same freedom that would have
+      accompanied his permission to appropriate all the gold used in paving the
+      streets of the City. She could see from the way he smiled that he felt
+      that she knew as little about the conditions under which books are printed
+      as a child does about the paving of the streets of the City.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She knew that he would never again refer to the subject of those imaginary
+      letters of hers&mdash;he would be too considerate of her feelings to do
+      so; he would have no desire to humiliate her. He would not even rally her
+      in a playful way about her literary work, asking her how the printing was
+      progressing, and if she had made up her mind to start a coach as grand as
+      that magnificent piece of carved and gilded furniture which Sir Joshua had
+      just had built for himself&mdash;oh, no: her father had always respected
+      her sensibility. Years ago, when her brothers and sisters were making
+      their light jests upon her backwardness, he had stopped them and said that
+      he had no fears for the future of Fanny; and she was certain that in
+      referring to her, as he so frequently did, as &ldquo;poor Fanny,&rdquo; he meant
+      nothing but kindness to her. To be sure, at first it grated upon her
+      sensitiveness to be referred to in that kindly pitying way, but she did
+      not resent it&mdash;indeed, she usually thought of herself as &ldquo;poor
+      Fanny.&rdquo; In a household where proficiency in music was the standard from
+      which every member was judged, it was inevitable that her incompetence
+      should be impressed upon her; but no one was hard upon her&mdash;the
+      kindly &ldquo;poor Fanny&rdquo; of her father represented the attitude of the
+      household toward her, even when she had confided to some of the members
+      the fact that she was writing a novel. They had been startled; but, then,
+      a novel was not a musical composition, and such an achievement could not
+      be received with the warmth that Esther's playing received. It was really
+      not until the printed sheets of the book lay before Susy that she felt
+      that Fanny had, in one leap, brought herself well-nigh to the level of
+      Esther; and by the time Susy had read the story to the end she had made up
+      her mind that if it might be possible to compare the interest of a
+      literary work with that of the playing of a piece of music, Fanny's work
+      could claim precedence over the best that Esther had done&mdash;she had
+      confessed as much to Fanny in secret, and Fanny had called her a foolish
+      child.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny had seated herself in the parlour opening off the little hall, on
+      the departure of her father, and her memory took her back to the days she
+      had passed in the house at Poland Street, when she had written her story
+      of Caroline Evelyn, and had been induced by her stepmother to burn it,
+      with sundry dramas and literary moralizings after the manner of the <i>Tatler</i>&mdash;all
+      the work of her early youth. She recalled her resolution never again to
+      engage in any such unprofitable practices as were represented by the smoke
+      which was ascending from the funeral pyre of her &ldquo;Caroline Evelyn&rdquo; and the
+      rest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      How long had she kept to her resolution? She could not remember. She could
+      not recall having any sense of guilt when she had begun her &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo;&mdash;it
+      seemed to have sprung from the ashes of &ldquo;Caroline Evelyn&rdquo;&mdash;nor could
+      she recollect what had been on her mind when she was spending those long
+      chilly hours of her restricted leisure toiling over the book. All that she
+      could remember now was her feeling that it had to be written&mdash;that it
+      seemed as if someone in authority had laid on her the injunction to write
+      it, and she had no choice but to obey.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Well, she had obeyed&mdash;the book had been written and printed and she
+      meant to send the corrected sheets back to Mr. Lowndes in the course of
+      the day. Her father's consent to its publication had been obtained and it
+      would be advertised for sale within some months, and then&mdash;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her imagination was not equal to the pursuit of the question of its
+      future. Sometimes she felt that she never wished to hear of the book
+      again. She could almost hope that sending the sheets back to Mr. Lowndes
+      would be the same as dropping them, with a heavy stone in the parcel, into
+      the deep sea.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But that was when the trouble of getting her father's permission to
+      publish it was looming before her. Now that this cloud had been dispelled
+      she felt less gloomy. She had a roseate dream of hearing people talk about
+      the book and even wishing to know the name of the author. She had a dream
+      of Fame herself carrying her away to sublime heights&mdash;to such heights
+      as she had been borne by the singing of &ldquo;Waft her, Angels.&rdquo; Her dream was
+      of sitting on these heights of Fame by the side of the singer&mdash;on the
+      same level&mdash;not inferior in the eyes of the world&mdash;not as the
+      beggar maid uplifted in her rags to the side of the King.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That had been her dream when listening to the singing, and it returned to
+      her now, as she sat alone in the little parlour, having just taken the
+      last step that was necessary before giving to the world the book which was
+      to do so much for her. Her visions of success showed her no more
+      entrancing a prospect than that of being by his side with her fame as a
+      dowry worthy of his acceptance at her hands; so that people might not say
+      that he had chosen unworthily&mdash;he, who had all the world to choose
+      from.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And quite naturally there came to her in due sequence the marvellous
+      thought that he had already chosen her out of all the world&mdash;he had
+      chosen her, believing her to be the dowerless daughter of a music-teacher&mdash;the
+      one uninteresting member of a popular family!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This was the most delightful thought of the whole train that came to her.
+      It was worth cherishing above all the rest&mdash;close to her heart&mdash;close
+      to her heart. She hugged that thought so close to her that it became warm
+      with the warmth of her heart. Even though her book should never be heard
+      of again, even though the world might treat it with contempt, she would
+      still be consoled by the reflection that he had chosen her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why on earth should you be sitting here in the cold, Fanny?&rdquo; came the
+      voice from the opened door&mdash;the voice of firm domestic virtue.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cold? cold? Surely 'Tis not cold, mamma,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not so very cold; but when there is a fire in the work-room it should not
+      be wasted,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;But to say the truth you do not look as if
+      you were cold; your face is quite flushed, child. I hope you do not feel
+      that you are on the brink of a sickness, my dear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear mamma, I never felt stronger in my life,&rdquo; cried Fanny with a laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am glad to hear that. I was saying to Lottie just now that for some
+      days past you have had alternately a worried look and the look of one
+      whose brain is over-excited. Is anything the matter, my child?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing&mdash;nothing&mdash;indeed nothing! I never felt more at ease in
+      all my life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, well, a little exercise will do you no harm, I am sure; so put on
+      your hat and accompany me to the fishmonger's. He has not been treating us
+      at all fairly of late. It is not that I mind the remark made quite
+      respectfully by James at dinner yesterday&mdash;it would be ridiculous to
+      expect to find fish as fresh in the centre of London as he and his
+      shipmates were accustomed to in the middle of the Pacific Ocean; but it
+      would not be unreasonable for us to look for turbot with less of a taint
+      than that we had yesterday. You will hear the man excuse himself by
+      asserting that I chose the fish at his stall; but my answer to that&mdash;well,
+      come with me and you shall hear what is my answer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny went with her and heard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XVII
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE faithful Cousin
+      Edward had carried the sheets of &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; to Mr. Lowndes's shop, with her
+      list of errata, sisters Lottie and Susy giving him ample instructions as
+      to the disguise he should assume in discharging that duty; it would be
+      terrible, they thought, if the secret which they had so carefully guarded
+      for so long should be revealed just when it was most important that it
+      should be kept. Their imagination was keen enough to suggest to them the
+      possibility of good Mr. Lowdnes setting a watch upon the people entering
+      his shop, and giving instructions that the bearer of the parcel of
+      &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; should be detained and brought into his presence to be
+      questioned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They advised that Edward should muffle up his face well before going into
+      the shop, and then lay down his parcel and fly like the wind&mdash;that
+      would be the best way of defeating the curiosity of the bookseller.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Edward was of the opinion that such a course of action might possibly
+      only stimulate the man's curiosity as well as that of the people in the
+      street, and the cry of &ldquo;Stop thief!&rdquo; might bring his frantic flight to a
+      standstill. He thought that the most artful course to adopt would be to
+      hang around the shop until he found that several customers were within;
+      then he would enter quite casually and wait until Mr. Lowndes had served
+      one customer and was about to attend to another. If the parcel were thrust
+      into his hands during this interval, he, Edward, would have a good chance
+      of getting safely away before Mr. Lowndes should have time to examine its
+      contents.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They were rather struck with his idea, and he got permission to put it
+      into practice; but in any case he must take the greatest care of the
+      parcel; valuable parcels were snatched out of people's hands every day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He smiled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In another hour he was back at the house in St. Martin's Street to report
+      to them the safe delivery of the precious parcel. After all, he had had
+      nothing more exciting to do than to place it on a counter&mdash;the
+      elderly gentleman with a pen behind his ear had not even taken the trouble
+      to rise from his stool to receive it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Parcel for Mr. Lowndes? All right. Leave it there&rdquo;&mdash;those were the
+      exact words with which the parcel was received, Edward reported&mdash;the
+      clerk was buried in his ledger before he had left the shop.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The girls were not a little disappointed at this very tame conclusion of
+      what they expected would have been an exciting episode; and to say the
+      truth, their chagrin was shared by Cousin Edward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had looked for his resources of artfulness to be drawn on in the
+      transaction&mdash;perhaps even his physical qualifications for the defence
+      of the sacred secret as well. He felt as a strong man might feel on going
+      forth to meet a giant, to find himself confronted by a dwarf. The mission
+      was unworthy of his powers. Fanny's thanks heartily given to him, with the
+      repeated assurance that, but for him, the affair could never have been
+      carried out, scarcely compensated him for the tameness of the affair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For the next month or two it was a busy household in St. Martin's Street.
+      Lieutenant Burney was joining his ship for another long voyage, and he had
+      to be provided with a fresh outfit. The stitching that went on in the
+      work-room surpassed even that maintained during the months preceding
+      Esther's marriage; but the labour was lightened upon more than one
+      occasion by the appearance of Mr. Garrick. Mr. Garrick had the freedom of
+      the house in St. Martin's Street, as he had had that of the Poland Street
+      domicile, where he had so often spent hours amusing the children with his
+      inimitable drolleries.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Mrs. Burney thought he went a little too far in taking off their
+      friends, and even their own father, though his malicious touches were as
+      light as the pinches of Puck. He had been paying a visit to Mr. and Mrs.
+      Kendal, and he convulsed even Mrs. Burney by his acting of the scene of
+      his reception by them, the lady much more coy than she had ever been at
+      the Wells, and the gentleman overflowing in his attentions to her; but
+      both of them esteeming him as their benefactor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And they were so well satisfied with the honourable estate to which he had
+      called them, that they appeared to be spending all their time trying to
+      bring about matches among their acquaintance. No matter how unsuitable
+      some of the projected unions seemed, no matter how unlikely some of the
+      people were to do credit to their discrimination, they seemed determined
+      that none should escape &ldquo;the blissful bondage&rdquo;&mdash;that was Mr. Kendal's
+      neat phrase. Mr. Garrick repeated it with a smile that made his audience
+      fancy that Mr. Kendal was before them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'The blissful bondage&mdash;that's what I term it, sir,'&rdquo; said Mr.
+      Kendal, through Mr. Garrick. &ldquo;'But the worst of the matter is, Mr.
+      Garrick, that we have nearly exhausted our own circle of friends'&mdash;'I
+      can easily believe that, sir,' interposed Mr. Garrick&mdash;' and so we
+      feel it our duty to fall back upon you.' 'Lud, sir,' cried Mr. Garrick,
+      jumping a step or two back as if to avoid a heavy impact&mdash;'Lud, sir!
+      a little man like me! I should be crushed as flat as a black beetle.'
+      'Nay, sir, I mean that we are compelled to ask you for a list of a few of
+      your friends who, you think, should be brought together&mdash;half a dozen
+      of each sex would be sufficient to begin with.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I demurred,&rdquo; said Garrick, telling his story, &ldquo;but before 'the
+      blissful bondage' had been repeated more than a score of times I began to
+      think of all against whom I bore a grudge&mdash;here was clearly the means
+      of getting level with them; the only trouble with me was that I found
+      myself confounding the people who bore me a grudge with those against whom
+      I bore a grudge&mdash;the former are plentiful, the latter very meagre in
+      number. With the exception of a few very dear animosities which I was
+      hoarding up to make old age endurable, I have killed off all my enemies,
+      and was forced, like Mr. Kendal, to fall back on my friends; but even
+      among these I could find few that I could honestly say were deserving of
+      such a fate as I was asked to nominate them for. I ventured, however, to
+      mention the name of Lieutenant Burney, of His Majesty's Fleet, coupling it
+      with&mdash;I could not at first think of an appropriate partner for James,
+      but at last I hit upon exactly the right lady.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! a splice before I set sail next week?&rdquo; cried Jim. &ldquo;That's good
+      news, sir. And the lady's name, if you please, and her address. Give me my
+      hat, Susy; there is no time to be lost. A splice in a trice. Come, Mr.
+      Garrick, her name? Cannot you see that I am hanging in stays until you
+      tell me who she is?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is a very pleasant lady, sir. I can assure you of that,&rdquo; said
+      Garrick. &ldquo;Not too tall even with her hair built <i>à la mode</i>; a
+      pleasant smile, and a happy way of conversing. In short, Lieutenant
+      Burney, I can strongly recommend the lady, for I have known her for the
+      past twenty years and more, and from the first she was a staid, sensible
+      person&mdash;the very partner for a sailor, sir, being so contrary to him
+      in every point.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hark'ee, Mr. Garrick; though I don't quite see myself in tow of such a
+      state barge, I'll trouble you to relieve my suspense by telling me her
+      name.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have more than once thought when I was young that she would make me an
+      excellent wife,&rdquo; said Garrick; &ldquo;but I soon perceived that I was not good
+      enough for her. She has always been an exemplary sister, and I saw that,
+      try as I might, I could never become her equal in that respect; and for
+      married happiness, my boy, there is nothing like&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Her name&mdash;her name?&rdquo; shrieked the girls.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The actor looked at them with pained surprise on every feature.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Her name?&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Surely I have described her very badly if you have
+      not recognized the portrait. But, for that matter, I have often felt how
+      inadequate are words to describe character combined with grace&mdash;a
+      nature inclined to seriousness in conjunction with a desire to attract&mdash;loftiness
+      of purpose linked with a certain daintiness&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He made a few gestures with his hands, keeping his elbows close to his
+      side, and then imitated the spreading of a capacious skirt preparatory to
+      sinking in a curtsey, and in a moment there was a cry from every part of
+      the room of &ldquo;Miss Reynolds&mdash;Miss Reynolds!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And who has a word to say against Miss Reynolds?&rdquo; cried the actor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No one&mdash;no one,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;Character combined with grace&mdash;Miss
+      Reynolds linked with Lieutenant Burney.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She would make a fine sheet anchor for an Admiral of the Blue,&rdquo; laughed
+      Jim. &ldquo;And with your permission, sir, I will postpone my offer until I have
+      attained that rank.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have advised Mr. Kendal to hurry things on,&rdquo; said Garrick gravely. &ldquo;For
+      if you have time to spare before making up your mind, the lady cannot
+      reasonably be thought equally fortunate. 'Lieutenant Burney, your attitude
+      is not complimentary to the blissful bondage'&rdquo;&mdash;once more it was Mr.
+      Kendal who was in the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Call the roll,&rdquo; said Jim. &ldquo;Who comes next on your list, Mr. Garrick?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I was thinking of Dr. Johnson with Mrs. Abington,&rdquo; said Garrick;
+      &ldquo;but perhaps you may quibble even at that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The room rang with laughter, for everyone had seen the beautiful actress
+      whose lead in dress was followed by all the ladies in the fashionable
+      world who could afford to do so, and a greater number who could not; and
+      the worsted hose and scorched wig, two sizes too small, of Dr. Johnson had
+      been gazed at with awe by the Burney family when he visited the house in
+      St. Martin's Street.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let the banns be published without delay,&rdquo; cried Jim. &ldquo;Next pair,
+      please.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I was thinking of Signor Rauzzini and Mrs. Montagu,&rdquo; said Garrick,
+      &ldquo;but perhaps that would not be approved of by you any more than the
+      others.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, Mr. Garrick, I will not have our friends made any longer the subject
+      of your fooling,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Garrick and Jim had the laugh between them, but it seemed that they alone
+      saw the jest of coupling the lively Roman with the mature leader of the
+      bluestockings: the girls bent silently over their work.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Madam,&rdquo; said Garrick apologetically, &ldquo;I ask your pardon for my
+      imprudence. May I ask which name I am to withdraw? Was my offence the
+      introduction of the lady's name or the gentleman's? Oh, I can guess. Those
+      rosy-tinted faces before me&mdash;I vow that you will find yourself going
+      to sea with a chestful of pink shirts, Lieutenant&mdash;those sweet
+      blushing faces reveal the secret more eloquently than any words could do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Undoubtedly the three girls were blushing very prettily; but at the
+      mention of the word &ldquo;secret&rdquo; two of them gave a little start, but without
+      looking up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The secret&mdash;oh, I have been feeling for some time that I was well to
+      the leeward of a secret,&rdquo; cried Jim, &ldquo;and I'll not start tack or sheet
+      until I learn what it is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, sir; you a sailor and not able to penetrate the secret of a pretty
+      girl's blushes!&rdquo; cried Garrick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The brother looked at each of his sisters in turn. They continued
+      stitching away demurely at his shirts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Helm's a-lee,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Ready about, and off we go on another tack, for
+      hang me if I see anything of guilt on their faces, bless 'em! Come, Mr.
+      Garrick, you shall interpret them for me. Let me into the secret which you
+      say you have read as if it was a book.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Susy gave a sharp cry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The needle!&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;That is the third time it has pricked me since
+      morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pay no attention to her, sir,&rdquo; cried Garrick. &ldquo;It was a feint on her part
+      to put us off the scent of the secret.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In heaven's name, then, let us have it,&rdquo; cried Jim.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you will have it, here it is,&rdquo; said Garrick. &ldquo;Your three sisters, Mr.
+      Burney, are contemplating applying to Mrs. Montagu to be admitted to the
+      freedom and the livery of the Society of Bluestockings. That is why they
+      thought it akin to sacrilege for me to introduce the lady's name into a
+      jest. Their blush was but a reflex of their guilty intention.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed, Mr. Garrick, you go too far sometimes,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;Mrs.
+      Montagu is a worthy lady, and our girls respect her too highly to fancy
+      that they have any qualification to be received into her literary set.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Faith, Madam, I know my duty too well, I hope, to accuse any of the Miss
+      Burneys of possessing literary qualities,&rdquo; said Garrick. &ldquo;But what I do
+      say is that if such qualities as they possess were to be introduced into
+      Mrs. Montagu's set, it would quickly become the most popular drawing-room
+      in town. The idea of thinking that any young woman would go to the trouble
+      of writing a book when she can reach the heart of mankind so much more
+      easily by blushing over the breast of a shirt! Continue stitching and
+      doing your own blushing, dear children, and you will never give anyone
+      cause to blush for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He bowed elaborately to each of them in turn and afterward to Mrs. Burney,
+      and made a most effective exit. He always knew when he should go, and
+      never failed to leave a few fragrant phrases behind him, as though he had
+      dropped a bunch of roses for the girls to cherish.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where should we be without Mr. Garrick?&rdquo; said James, when he had seen the
+      actor to the door and returned to the work-room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If only he would not go too far in his jesting,&rdquo; remarked Mrs. Burney,
+      shaking her head. &ldquo;Mr. Garrick sometimes forgets himself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is how it comes that he is the greatest actor in the world,&rdquo; said
+      James. &ldquo;It is only when a man has learned to forget himself completely
+      that he causes everyone else to remember him. Now there's the text for a
+      homily that you can write to your Daddy Crisp, Fanny.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll note it, Jim, and if Mr. Crisp breaks off correspondence with me you
+      shall bear the blame,&rdquo; said Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mercy on us!&rdquo; whispered Susy when she was alone with her sister a little
+      later. &ldquo;I never got such a fright as when Mr. Garrick pretended to read
+      your secret. Thank goodness! he failed to get the least inkling of it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank goodness, indeed!&rdquo; whispered Fanny. But she was thinking of quite a
+      different secret when she spoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XVIII
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>E was beside her
+      before she was aware of it, in the great music-room at Lady Hales's house.
+      She had not seen him approach her&mdash;she could not have done so without
+      turning round, for he had approached her from behind, and slipped into the
+      chair that Esther had vacated in order to play to the company. Esther's
+      husband, who had been in the seat beyond her, had been led away some time
+      earlier by Mr. Linley's clever son in order that he might give an opinion
+      respecting one of the songs in a piece named <i>The Duenna</i>, which was
+      about to be produced at Drury Lane.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was beside her and whispering in her ear, though she had not even known
+      that he was to be present.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Of course he went through the pantomimic form of inquiring how it was that
+      she was alone&mdash;this was, she knew, for the benefit of anyone who
+      might be watching them and suspect an assignation. The idea of anyone
+      seriously fancying that Dr. Burney's daughter would have an assignation
+      with Signor Rauzzini in such a place and in the midst of such a company!
+      But Signor Rauzzini came from a land of intrigue, and his experience of
+      England led him to believe that he had come to another; and so he made
+      those gestures of inquiry, and she gave him a few words of explanation, so
+      that no one might suspect! But, for that matter, their chairs were in the
+      least conspicuous place in the room, and the shadow of the heavy hangings
+      of a window fell half across them both.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And we have not met for months,&rdquo; said he in French.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, have you forgotten our evening at the Pantheon?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Forgotten it? But that is months ago&mdash;ages. And it was all
+      unfinished&mdash;broken off when at its best&mdash;mutilated. That hour we
+      had! Oh, was it a melody suddenly interrupted when it was approaching its
+      best? Was it a poem snatched away by some ruthless hand just when we had
+      begun a deathless line?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What I remember best is your singing of 'Waft her.' I am not quite sure
+      that I have yet returned to the earth from those regions whither I felt
+      myself wafted. Are you conscious of having any part in <i>Dido</i> into
+      which you can throw yourself with the same spirit?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>Dido!</i> pah! <i>Dido</i> is a paltry playhouse&mdash;Maestro
+      Handel's work is a Sistine Chapel&mdash;ah, more&mdash;more&mdash;a noble
+      cathedral. When other composers built their garden houses in imitation of
+      Greek temples, he spent all his time raising cathedrals. His genius is his
+      own&mdash;mighty&mdash;overpowering! Every time I approach the great <i>maestro</i>
+      I feel that I should put off my shoes from my feet. It is holy ground&mdash;it
+      is&mdash;ah, mademoiselle, it was you who led me to chatter of myself and
+      my music when we were last together, and I had no wish to do so; I meant
+      to talk of yourself alone, but we had parted before I had the chance
+      again. I have been wondering ever since if such a chance would return&mdash;if
+      I had not thrown it away; and now you have lured me once more toward the
+      golden net of music; but I have seen it spread: I will not step into it. I
+      want to talk to you of love&mdash;love and you&mdash;and&mdash;me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He had restrained his voice so that it was no more than a whisper, and he
+      had chastened his gestures until he seemed rigid. Fanny knew that even if
+      their chairs had not been far away from the next that were occupied, his
+      words could reach no ears but her own; but the effort that he was making
+      to restrain his gestures&mdash;oh, was it not more significant to any
+      observant eye than his most florid action would have been? With bent head
+      she was conscious of the quivering of the muscles of his clenched hands&mdash;of
+      the tremulous earnestness of his expressive face. Surely everyone who so
+      much as glanced at him would know what was the subject of his discourse&mdash;and
+      hers&mdash;hers&mdash;but what should hers be? What answer was she to make
+      to such a man whispering such a word as love?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;You make me afraid. Is this the place? Is this
+      the time? Am I the one?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Every place is the place&mdash;every time is the time&mdash;and you&mdash;you
+      are the only one,&rdquo; said he, becoming more fervent every moment. &ldquo;If you
+      and I were alone&mdash;but we are alone&mdash;our love isolates us&mdash;we
+      are alone in the splendid isolation of our love. What are these people who
+      are about us? They are nothing to us&mdash;less than nothing, What are the
+      people in a church to the devout one who enters and keeps his eyes fixed
+      upon the lovely face of the saint to whom he prays. The saint and he are
+      in communion together, and their communion isolates them though the church
+      is crowded? I keep my eyes of devotion upon your face, my beautiful saint,
+      and I am rapt with the glory of this hour&mdash;we are carried away on the
+      wings of our love until the world is too far beneath us to be seen&mdash;only
+      the heaven is revealed to us&mdash;to me&mdash;I look into your face and I
+      have a glimpse of heaven itself! Ah, gentle saint, you will not deny me a
+      response&mdash;one word&mdash;only lift up your eyes&mdash;let our eyes
+      meet and it will be as if our lips had met. I am but a mortal, but I feel,
+      gazing into the face of my saint, as if I were immortal&mdash;immortal and
+      crossing the threshold of the heaven that is hers&mdash;I feel that we are
+      equal&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She drew in her breath&mdash;the sound was something like a gasp&mdash;the
+      gasp of one who has been swept away into the midst of a swirling sea and
+      made breathless. She had been swept away on the amazing flood of his
+      words; it was not until he had said that word &ldquo;equal&rdquo; that she felt
+      herself swirled into the air once more, so to speak, and gave that gasp
+      for breath: he, too, was breathless after his long and fervid outburst,
+      repressed as to tone, but sounding therefore all the more passionate. Her
+      gasp sounded like a sigh; his like a sob.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not yet&mdash;not yet,&rdquo; she said in a whisper&mdash;disjointed and
+      staccato. &ldquo;I cannot listen to you yet. I dare not&mdash;I have my pride.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pride? What is pride? How have I wounded your pride?&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Ah, my
+      God! you cannot think that I would propose anything that is not
+      honourable? You do not look on me as such a wretch? Ah, you cannot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no, no,&rdquo; she said quickly. &ldquo;I would trust you. I have looked into
+      your face. I have heard you sing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You place your faith in me? But you cannot do that unless you love me.
+      And if you love me&mdash;have I been too headlong? Have I startled you?
+      But surely you must have seen that on the very first day we met, before I
+      had been an hour in your presence, my life was yours. I tell you that I
+      knew it&mdash;not an hour&mdash;one glance was enough to tell me that I
+      was all yours, and that for me no other one lived or would ever live in
+      the world. What have you to say? Do not you believe me? What did you mean
+      by that word 'pride'? It does not seem to me that it had any connection
+      with you or me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do not ask me to explain anything just now,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;You would not
+      like to be asked to explain how you came to&mdash;to&mdash;think of me&mdash;to
+      feel in regard to me as you have said you do&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why should I shrink from it?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;But no one who has seen you
+      would put such a question to me. I loved you because you were&mdash;<i>you</i>.
+      Is not that enough? It would be sufficient for anyone who knew you. I saw
+      you sitting there&mdash;so sweetly timid&mdash;a little flower that is so
+      startled to find itself awakened into life in the spring, that it would
+      fain ask the earth to hide it again. I thought of you as that modest
+      little flower&mdash;a violet trying to obscure its own charm by the leaves
+      that surround it; but all in vain&mdash;in vain, for its presence has
+      given a subtle perfume to the air, and all who breathe of its delicate
+      sweetness take the spirit of the spring into their souls and know that a
+      violet is there, though hidden from their view. That is how I saw you. I
+      have always loved the violet, and felt that shyness and sweetness were
+      ever one; and am I to be reproached if I have a longing to pluck my violet
+      and have her ever with me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is madness&mdash;the poetry of madness,&rdquo; she cried, and there was
+      really a piteous note in her voice. &ldquo;But if I did not believe that you
+      feel every word that you have spoken, I would let you continue, and drink
+      in the sweetness of every word that falls from your lips. It is because I
+      know that you are speaking from your heart and because I also know my own
+      unworthiness that I pray of you to say no more&mdash;yet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why should I not tell you the truth, if you confess that you believe I am
+      speaking sincerely?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sincerely, but in a dream.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is all love a dream, then?&mdash;is that what is in your thought?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not want it to be a dream. I wish the love to continue with your
+      eyes open, and therefore I say&mdash;not yet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You wish my love to continue? Oh, never doubt that your wish shall be
+      granted. But why that 'not yet '? I am weary of this mystery.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She was perplexed. Why should she hold out any longer against this
+      impetuous Prince of the land of King Cophetua? Why should she not be as
+      other girls who allow themselves to be lifted out of insignificance by the
+      man who loves them. Why should that gift of being able to see more closely
+      into the truth of things that most others accept without a question, be
+      laid upon her as a burden?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had a strong impulse to let her resolution go down the wind, and to
+      put her hand in his, no matter who might be looking on, and say the word
+      to him that would give him happiness. Who was she to suggest that his
+      happiness would not endure&mdash;that her happiness would not endure?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was perplexed. She had more than once been called prim; but that only
+      meant that it was her nature to weigh everything in a mental balance, as
+      it were, and her imagination was equal (she thought) to the task of
+      assigning their relative value to the many constituents of human
+      happiness. If she had been told that this meant that she had not yet been
+      in love, and that she was not now in love, she would not have felt uneasy
+      in her mind. She did not mistrust the feeling she had for the man who was
+      beside her. Surely this was the very spirit of truth in loving, to be
+      ready to sacrifice everything, so that unhappiness should not overtake
+      him; and she had long ago felt that unhappiness only could result from his
+      linking his life with one who was rather less than a mere nobody. The
+      thought never once left her mind of what would be said when it was known
+      that she had married him. A dunce's triumph, the incident would be styled
+      by the wits, and (assuming that the wits were masculine) how would it be
+      styled by the opposite sex? She could see uplifted hands&mdash;incredulous
+      eyebrows raised, while they discussed it, and she knew that the conclusion
+      that everyone would come to was that to be the most divine singer in the
+      world did not save a man from being the greatest fool in the world.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Was her love the less true because her intelligence insisted on her
+      perceiving that such a man as Signor Rauzzini would not be happy if
+      married to a nonentity like herself? &ldquo;Surely not,&rdquo; she would have cried.
+      &ldquo;Surely it is only the truest of all loves that would be ready to
+      relinquish its object rather than bring unhappiness upon him! Is
+      intelligence never to be found in association with true love? Must true
+      love and folly ever be regarded as allies?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her intellect was quick in apprehending the strength of the position taken
+      up by two combatants in an argument; but the juxtaposition of the Prim and
+      the Passionate was too much for her. She was all intellect; he was all
+      passion. Her mental outlook on the situation was acute; but his was
+      non-existent. His passion blinded him; her intellect had a thousand eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And there he was by her side; she could almost hear the strong beating of
+      his heart in the pause that followed his question.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is this mystery?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was her feeling of this tumultuous beating of his heart that all but
+      made her lose her intellectual foothold. His heart beating close to hers
+      swayed her as the moon sways the tides, until for some moments she could
+      not have told whether it was her heart or his that was beating so wildly&mdash;only
+      for some moments, however; only long enough for that madness to suggest
+      itself to her&mdash;to let her resolution fly to the winds&mdash;what did
+      anything matter so long as she could lay her hand in his, and feel his
+      fingers warm over hers? It was her first acquaintance with the tyranny of
+      a heart aflame, and for a moment she bent her head before it. He thought
+      that he had got the better of her scruples, whatever they were, by the way
+      her voice broke as she said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Madness&mdash;it would be madness!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was not acute enough to perceive that she was talking to herself&mdash;trying
+      to bring her reason to help her to hold out against the throbbing of her
+      heart&mdash;<i>his</i> heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It would indeed be madness for us to turn our backs upon happiness when
+      it is within our reach,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;That is what you would say, sweet
+      saint?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But she had now recovered herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed it is because I have no thought except for your happiness that I
+      entreat of you to listen to me,&rdquo; said Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will listen to you if you tell me in one word that you love me,&rdquo; said
+      he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was no pause before she turned her eyes upon him saying:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You know it. You have never doubted it. It is because I love you so truly
+      I wish to save you from unhappiness. I want to hold your love for ever and
+      ever.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My sweet saint! You have heard my prayers. You are to make me happy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All that I can promise as yet is to save you from supreme unhappiness. I
+      am strong enough to do so, I think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can save me from every unhappiness if you will come to me&mdash;and
+      you are coming, I know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope that if you ask me three months hence I shall be able to say
+      'yes'; but now&mdash;at this moment&mdash;I dare not. It is not so long to
+      ask you to wait, seeing that I have let you have a glimpse of my heart,
+      and told you that as you feel for me, so I feel for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Three months is an eternity! Why should it be in three months? Why not
+      now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She shook her head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I cannot tell you. It is my little secret,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Ah, is it not
+      enough that I have told you I love you? I shall never cease to love you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, this accursed place! These accursed people!&rdquo; he murmured. &ldquo;Why are we
+      fated to meet only surrounded by these wretches? Why cannot we meet where
+      I can have you in <i>my</i> arms, and kiss your lips that were made for
+      kissing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was something terrifying to her in that low whisper of his. He had
+      put his head down to her until his lips were close to her ear. She felt
+      the warmth of his face; it made her own burn. But she could not move her
+      face away to the extent of an inch. Her feminine instinct of flight was
+      succeeded by the equally feminine instinct of surrender. If it had been
+      his intention&mdash;and it certainly seemed that it was&mdash;to kiss her
+      in the presence of all the company, she would still have been incapable of
+      avoiding such a caress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He swore again in her ear, and Fanny, for all her primness, felt a regret
+      deep down in her heart that her training would not allow of her expressing
+      herself through the same medium.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But he did not come any nearer to her than that. He changed his phrases of
+      abuse of their entourage to words of delight at her presence so close to
+      him&mdash;alternately passionate and tender. His voice became a song in
+      her ears, containing all such variations. His vocalism was equal to the
+      demand put upon it. It was his <i>métier</i> to interpret such emotions,
+      and now he did justice to his training, even if he fell short&mdash;and he
+      was conscious of doing so&mdash;of dealing adequately with his own
+      feelings. He called her once again his sweet saint who had heard his
+      prayer; his cherished flower, whose fragrance was more grateful to him
+      than all the incense burned in all the temples of the world was to the
+      Powers above.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was, he repeated, her violet modesty that had first made him adore her.
+      Her humility brought before his eyes the picture painted by Guido Reni&mdash;the
+      Madonna saying: <i>Ecce ancilla Domini</i>.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ah, her humility was divine. And she was so like his mother&mdash;his dear
+      mother who had died when he was a boy and who had taught him to sing. Ah,
+      she was herself now singing in Paradise, and she would look down and
+      approve his choice. She, too, had been as meek as a flower, and had never
+      been so happy as when they had been together at a little farm in Tuscany
+      with him by her side among the olives. Oh, she would approve his choice.
+      And quite simply he addressed his dead mother, as though she were beside
+      him, asking her if she could desire to have a daughter sweeter or more
+      gentle. He had lapsed into his native Italian in this; but Fanny could
+      follow his slow, devout words, and her eyes were full of tears, her heart
+      of love.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She now perceived how simple and gentle a nature was that of the young
+      Roman. He remained unspoilt by the adulation which he had received both in
+      his own country and in England. Seeing him thus revealing a simplicity
+      which she had not associated with him before, she was led to ask herself
+      if there was, after all, so great a difference between them as she had
+      believed to exist. She had forgotten all about his singing, and he was now
+      in her eyes nothing more than a man&mdash;the man who loved her. Ah, that
+      was enough. He loved her, and therefore she was bound to save him from the
+      mortification of hearing the whispers of the people around them asking how
+      he could ever have been stupid enough to marry a girl like herself, who
+      was a nobody and without a fortune, when he might have chosen any girl in
+      the world.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her resolution came back to her with greater force than ever. Since he had
+      made his nature plain to her, it would, she felt, be taking advantage of
+      his simplicity to engage herself to him just as she was. She knew more of
+      the world than he did. She knew how the world talked, and how it would
+      talk regarding herself as well as regarding him in such a matter. He was
+      simple and generous; it was necessary for her to take thought for both of
+      them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you heard me?&rdquo; he asked of her in a whisper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The tears are still in my eyes,&rdquo; she replied. &ldquo;Oh, my dear friend, cannot
+      you see how bitter it is for me to be compelled to ask you to wait for
+      these months that I spoke of? Cannot you see that it is a matter of
+      conscience and honour? Ah, I should never forgive myself if I were to do
+      other than I have done! If you&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear one,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;I ask for nothing more than to hear you tell me that
+      you love me. Who am I, that I should demand your secret? So long as you do
+      not conceal your love from me, I do not mind if you have a score of
+      secrets locked away in your white bosom. Tell me again that you love me
+      and all must be well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked at him, but he knew that she could not see a feature of his
+      face by reason of the tears that were still in her eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XIX
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T was on one of
+      the last mornings in January that Mrs. Burney was reading out of the
+      newly-arrived <i>London Chronicle</i> such paragraphs as she thought would
+      appeal to the varied interests of the breakfast-table. There were a few
+      announcements of marriages about to take place between people whose names
+      they knew, the amount of the bride's dowry being stated in each in plain
+      figures, though Mrs. Burney took it upon her to affirm in one or two cases
+      that the sum was exaggerated, or to suggest that if the father of the
+      bride were just enough to pay his debts first, the portion of his daughter
+      would be considerably reduced. In the case of one of the gentlemen, who
+      was marrying thirty thousand pounds, she ventured to express the hope that
+      he would now pay at least some of his creditors.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      These were, of course, the most interesting items of news, though their
+      attractiveness was not greatly superior to that of the gossip respecting
+      Mr. F&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;, who had been noticed in high dudgeon because
+      of Lady P&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;'s dancing three times with Sir Julian Y&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;;
+      or that which suggested that a reconcilement must have taken place between
+      the beautiful Mrs. G&mdash;&mdash;&mdash; and her husband, for they had
+      been seen taking the air together in the Park.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was also pleasant to learn that His Majesty had given great
+      encouragement to Mrs. Delany in the production of her ingenious mosaic
+      flowers, in which she was so skilled as to excite the wonder of several
+      criticks in the Royal circle; and also that His Royal Highness the Prince
+      of Wales had been graciously pleased to say in publick that he had always
+      admired the Perdita of the beautiful Mrs. Robinson, though he considered
+      Mrs. Abington, on the whole, the most tasteful dresser in the Drury Lane
+      company.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was only when Mrs. Burney had folded the newspaper and was about to put
+      it away, that a few lines of an advertisement caught her eye&mdash;she
+      commented before she read, as though she had been a fully qualified
+      critic:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;More novels! More stuff for the circulating libraries! Enough to make
+      poor Mr. Richardson feel uncomfortable in his grave! Could he but have
+      known that he was turning all England into novel readers he would never
+      have put pen to paper. Here is another imitator in the field. 'Evelina;
+      or, a Young Lady's Entrance into the World,' published to-day by Mr.
+      Lowndes&mdash;three volumes, seven and sixpence sewed, nine shillings in
+      covers. 'Evelina,' a distant cousin to 'Clarissa' and 'Pamela' I doubt
+      not. I hope your father will not bring anyone here to dinner to-day.
+      Hashed mutton is a wholesome dish, to be sure, but some visitors are
+      fastidious. He may bring as many as he pleases to-morrow, for Mr.
+      Greville's gift of pheasants will be on the table. Why are you staring so
+      at your sister, Lottie?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lottie was becoming a hardened dissembler: she scarcely started when asked
+      to interpret certain furtive glances she cast at Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was wondering if Fanny would make a face: she never was fond of hashed
+      mutton,&rdquo; said Lottie glibly. &ldquo;If she had gone to school in France she
+      would soon have got a liking for it, cooked as it is there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not partial to French kickshaws,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;There's nothing
+      like good English fare. To my thinking, the principle of making food tasty
+      when in ordinary circumstances it should not be so, is a bad one. Hash of
+      mutton is wholesome food, and it should be eaten as such without further
+      question. If Providence had meant it to be tasty as well, He would have
+      made His intentions as plain as in the case of roast pheasant.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lottie will tell you that I made no face at the mention of hash of
+      mutton,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;What does it signify whether one sits down to a
+      simple platter of mutton hash or a great dinner such as father gets at Mr.
+      Thrale's? A pair of geese, a leg of mutton, a tongue, a rib of roast beef
+      and a brace of pheasants, with two or three dishes of fish, and for Dr.
+      Johnson a veal pie or a piece of pork&mdash;those were on the table at one
+      time. What is the benefit of such abundance, when all that one can eat is
+      a single slice of beef?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She spoke rapidly, for she, too, had been a great dissembler. She meant to
+      take away her stepmother's attention from those questionable glances which
+      she had exchanged with Lottie; and she succeeded very well.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It would make no difference to us whether we had one dish or ten; but it
+      makes all the difference in the world to Mr. Thrale. They say he has a
+      prodigious appetite, and eats of at least six heavy dishes of meat at
+      dinner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Baretti affirms that some day he will not awake from the stupor into
+      which he falls after one of his heavy meals,&rdquo; said Susy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And all the time Mrs. Thrale is entreating him to be more moderate,&rdquo;
+       cried Lottie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A humiliating duty for such as Mrs. Thrale,&rdquo; said her mother. &ldquo;That shows
+      how true is all that Fanny has remarked: a simple dish should be enough
+      for any reasonable person. I have often wondered how the converse at the
+      Streatham table could be so wise and witty if the master of the house eats
+      like a hog, and Dr. Johnson, suffering from ill-health, expends so much
+      energy over his pork that the veins stand out on his forehead and his face
+      is bathed in perspiration.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sure that Mrs. Thrale has wit and liveliness enough to serve for the
+      whole company,&rdquo; said Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is chatty enough, I doubt not,&rdquo; replied Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;There are those
+      who think she talks over-much for a woman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not for a woman of fashion,&rdquo; suggested Lottie with some pertness, when
+      their stepmother had left the room. &ldquo;It is long since Mrs. Thrale has
+      invited mother to one of the Streatham dinners,&rdquo; she added under her
+      breath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then the three fell upon the <i>Chronicle</i> for the announcement of
+      the book.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They read it in whispers, each following the other, as though it were the
+      <i>piano</i> part of a catch or a glee, and glancing fearfully toward the
+      door now and again, lest it should open and Mrs. Burney reappear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How amazing it is!&rdquo; said Susy. &ldquo;This is the announcement of the birth of
+      a baby&mdash;and such a baby!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The birth and the christening and all,&rdquo; said Lottie. &ldquo;Oh, Fanny, I had no
+      idea that it would be in the papers&mdash;I forgot that it would be
+      advertised; and when mamma read this out I thought I should sink through
+      the floor. So did you, I know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I only wish that it had been possible,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;I could feel myself
+      getting hot all over my body. And then you gave me that look, Lottie!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Could I help it?&rdquo; asked Lottie. &ldquo;You cannot blame me. I really thought
+      that it was you who gave me a look, as much as to say: 'If you let the cat
+      out of the bag I will never forgive you&mdash;no, never! '&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind! Among us we managed to get out of the difficulty very well, I
+      think. Were we not clever, guiding the conversation away from Mr.
+      Lowndes's shop on to the high road to Streatham?&rdquo; cried Susy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Twas the hash that saved us,&rdquo; said Lottie. &ldquo;Have you not heard dear Jim
+      applying the sailors' expression, to make a hash of something? But we
+      didn't make a hash of our matter, did we, Fanny?&rdquo; said Susan.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We have become adroit dissemblers, and I am growing more ashamed of it
+      every day,&rdquo; cried Fanny. &ldquo;I have reached the condition of a man of whom I
+      read in a volume of history: he had committed a crime, and the effort that
+      it cost him to keep it hidden so preyed upon his mind that he could stand
+      the strain no longer, so he confessed it and was relieved.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But he could not have been really happy until they hanged him,&rdquo; said
+      Susy. &ldquo;And do you intend to confess and be hanged, Fanny? Please do not. I
+      think it is the most exciting thing in the world to share a secret like
+      this. I would not have missed the enjoyment for anything. Think, Fan, if
+      you were to confess, you would draw us into it too&mdash;you would make us
+      out to be as guilty as yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will not confess,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;No; it would not be honourable of me.
+      But I do feel that the secret is having a bad effect upon us all. It has
+      made us all such&mdash;such&mdash;dissemblers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Psha!&rdquo; said Lottie with a sniff. &ldquo;That's only another way of saying that
+      we are ladies of quality at an early age.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny shook her head. She thought that if any proof were needed of the ill
+      effects of their treasuring their secret from their parents, this cynical
+      pertness of Lottie supplied it. She shook her head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should like 'Evelina' to come into mamma's hands,&rdquo; continued Lottie.
+      &ldquo;She will go through the three volumes at a hand gallop, even though she
+      did take it upon her to condemn it as being on a level with the odious
+      stuff that comes to us nowadays.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And if she condemns it so heartily before she has read it, what will she
+      say about it when she has finished the last chapter?&rdquo; asked Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She will say that it is the prettiest story that has been written since
+      her dear Mr. Richardson died,&rdquo; said Susy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I doubt it, my dear,&rdquo; said Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, let the worst come, she will never guess that you wrote it,&rdquo;
+       laughed Lottie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is the padre whom I fear,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;Surely he will not need to go
+      beyond the Ode on the first leaf to know that it is he himself whom I
+      address.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And if he should&mdash;smoke it?&rdquo; asked Susy, lapsing into slang which
+      she had acquired from her sailor brother, who was in no sense a purist.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If he should&mdash;well, either of two things will happen,&rdquo; replied the
+      authoress. &ldquo;He will either think me the most double-dealing wretch in the
+      world or the most dutiful of daughters.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And which will be right?&rdquo; asked Lottie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Both views will be right,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;Although I meant every word of
+      the Ode, I really think now that the idea of writing it before the
+      dedication came to me only when I felt that I had behaved badly in sending
+      the book to the printer without his consent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You wished the Ode to be a sort of peace-offering?&rdquo; said Susy. &ldquo;You hoped
+      that when he read it he would forget to be angry? Well, that was cunning
+      of you, Fanny!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I tell you that the whole affair has had a bad effect upon us all,&rdquo; said
+      Fanny gently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Once again she was conscious of someone telling her that there was no use
+      crying over spilt milk, and this impression was followed by one that took
+      the form of a resolution to be more careful in future. If she had spilt
+      some milk once, that was no reason why she should not, by exercising
+      proper forethought, refrain from doing so again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the book was now given to the world, if the world would have it, but
+      as yet a copy had not come into her hand. She wondered if she would have
+      to spend seven and sixpence in buying a copy. Seven shillings and
+      sixpence, sewed. It was a great deal of money. Was it possible that there
+      were five hundred people in the world ready to pay seven and sixpence for
+      a novel with the name of no author on the title page? (She thought it best
+      to leave out of her consideration altogether the possible purchasers of
+      the nine shilling set of bound volumes.)
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Who were the people that ever laid out so much money upon books which
+      could be read through between the rising and the setting of the sun? She
+      had never met such liberal enthusiasts. Of course, it was only reasonable
+      that so splendid a work as the &ldquo;History of Music&rdquo; should be in the library
+      of every house wherein people of taste resided, but that was not a book to
+      be galloped through; some people might not be able to read it within a
+      month. Besides, it bore the honoured name of Dr. Burney on the title page,
+      and the fame of Dr. Burney was great. But as for that poor little
+      seven-and-sixpenny sewed &ldquo;Evelina,&rdquo; how should anyone take an interest in
+      her without reading her story? How would anyone read her story without
+      feeling afterwards that seven-and-sixpence (leaving the nine shilling
+      expenditure out of the question) was a ridiculous price to pay for such an
+      entertainment?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She felt that people would come to look on her as the instigator of a
+      fraud if they paid their money and read the book and then found out that
+      she had written it. The wisdom of concealing her name even from the
+      bookseller was now more apparent to her than it had ever been. She had
+      visions of indignant purchasers railing against Mr. Lowndes, and Mr.
+      Lowndes searching for her, so that he might rail against her; and so her
+      speculations ended in laughter; but even her laughter grated upon her
+      sensitive ears: she felt that it was the malicious jeering of a clever
+      cheat at the thought of having got the better of a worthy man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her precious &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; was leading her a pretty dance. If it had not been
+      able to do so it would have been a paltry sort of book and she would have
+      been a paltry sort of author.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XX
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>WO or three weeks
+      passed without her hearing anything of the book, and it seemed as if it
+      had fallen, as she had at some moments hoped it would fall, like a dull
+      stone into the depths of the sea. She heard nothing of it, and soon she
+      perceived that her sisters felt grievously disappointed at its failure to
+      produce any impression upon the town. Even a dull stone, if dropped into
+      the deep, creates a little fuss on the surface before it sinks out of
+      sight; but Fanny's book did not, so far as they could see, produce even so
+      superficial an impression. What they expected of it they might have had
+      some trouble explaining; but as it was, they could not conceal their
+      disappointment from Fanny; and they showed it after a short time in a very
+      delicate way: they never alluded to the book in her presence. She
+      perceived that what was in their minds was that it would show very bad
+      taste on their part to refer to it in any way. She was grateful for their
+      consideration; and she resolved to accept their decision on this point as
+      final; she would never allude to the horrid thing in their hearing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It so happened, however, that she was left alone with Susy in the house
+      one evening. Dr. Burney and his wife had gone to a concert at Esther's,
+      and Lottie was staying for a day or two in the country. Susy was
+      practising her part of a new duet on the piano, and Fanny was at her
+      sewing. So far as conversation between the two sisters was concerned, the
+      evening had been a very silent one. Indeed, during the whole week a
+      constrained silence had marked the intercourse of the three girls.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Susy hammered away at the music for half an hour; then her playing became
+      more fitful, and at last it ceased altogether.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a long silence before Fanny heard a little sound that caused her
+      to raise her head. It was the sound of a sob, and when she looked up she
+      saw that Susy was leaning her forehead upon the bottom of the music rest,
+      weeping bitterly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny was by her side in a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dearest Susy, what is the matter?&rdquo; she said soothingly. &ldquo;Tell me, dear;
+      has anything happened? Has anyone been unkind to you? Have I unwittingly
+      done or said anything that seemed to you unkind? Tell me all, Susy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But Susy continued crying with her face hidden, though she yielded one of
+      her hands to Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, my dear, I have helped you before now, and I may be able to help
+      you now. Prithee, what is your trouble?&rdquo; said Fanny, putting her arm round
+      the girl's shoulders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Still Susy remained silent, except for her sobs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me,&rdquo; said Fanny, in a whisper. &ldquo;Is it that you think that I am
+      chagrined about&mdash;about&mdash;the book?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In an instant Susy had whirled round on her seat and flung her arms round
+      her sister's neck, laying her head on her shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Fanny, Fanny, 'tis too cruel!&rdquo; she sobbed. &ldquo;We were sure that so much
+      would come of it&mdash;it seemed so splendid to read, even before it was
+      printed&mdash;so much better than any other story that ever came into our
+      hands&mdash;and you worked so hard at it&mdash;every spare moment when you
+      might have been enjoying yourself&mdash;in the cold of last winter up in
+      that room&mdash;and at Lynn too&mdash;and Chessington&mdash;and now, when
+      we think that your cleverness, your patience, your genius, is to be
+      rewarded, nothing comes of it&mdash;all your trouble has gone for nothing&mdash;all
+      our secrecy! Oh, it is too cruel!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You dear child,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;It is only cruel if it sets you crying in
+      this way. What does it matter to anyone if the book has gone and nothing
+      has come of it? I have been thinking that writing a book and publishing it
+      is like throwing a stone into the sea. It may fall so that it sinks down
+      plumb, or it may fall so that it makes a splash for a while, but it sinks
+      to the bottom all the same. Success or failure is only the difference
+      between a splash and a ripple. We were fools to fancy that our little
+      stone would float.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it was not a stone, it was full of life and it should have&mdash;it
+      should have&mdash;swum! Oh, the people who buy books are so stupid!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are&mdash;that was the hope that I builded on. They are stupid, but
+      not stupid enough to buy my book.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Fanny!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is really the frame of mind that I find myself in to-day. I tell you
+      truly, Susy, that after the first week, I schooled myself to think of the
+      business in this way; and I am certain that in another month I shall even
+      feel delighted that my little pebble made no splash. Look at the matter
+      philosophically, Susy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, philosophically!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, reasonably. Are we in a different position to-day from that we were
+      in before the book was published? We are not. We are just the same as we
+      were before. It has not injured us in any way. Nay, if you think of it, we
+      are&mdash;I, at least, am&mdash;all the better for having failed, for I
+      have learned my lesson. I was beginning to feel cleverer than I had any
+      right to think myself, and this has come as a chastening&mdash;to make me
+      know my right place. These rebukes do not come by chance, Susy. I know now
+      that I was inclined to hold my head too high. I don't think that I will do
+      so again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You never held your head too high&mdash;just the opposite. And I think it
+      very cruel that you should be rebuked for nothing. But I do not blame <i>anyone</i>
+      except the wretched people who refused to buy your nice book, but spent
+      their seven and sixpence at Vauxhall or Ranelagh&mdash;perhaps watching
+      Mr. Foote and his puppets at the Haymarket. Oh, I have no patience with
+      them! Why, it only needed a thousand people to buy the book and it would
+      have been accounted a success!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then we shall put the blame on the shoulders of that thousand,
+      wheresoever they may be found, and for my part I shall not hold a second
+      thousand altogether blameless&mdash;my indignation may even extend to a
+      third. Now, that's the last word I mean to speak about the book. It has by
+      this time reached the bottom of the sea on which I threw it; and there let
+      it lie!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are an angel&mdash;I see that plainly now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, there you see, what I said was true: I am much better for the rebuke
+      I talked about; you never perceived before that I was an angel. Now let
+      that be the last word between us on the subject of my poor little
+      'Evelina.' Her entrance into the world has proved fatal. Oh, Susy, she was
+      stillborn, but her parent is making a rapid recovery.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That may be; but cannot you join with me in&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will join with you in maintaining silence on the subject of the little
+      one. I cannot bear to hear her name mentioned. I refuse to say another
+      word about her or her fate. She must have been greatly beloved of the gods
+      to die so young. Let that be 'Evelina's' epitaph. I will say nothing more
+      about her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It so happened, however, that she was compelled to say a good deal more on
+      the subject, for within half an hour Cousin Edward had called, and he
+      began to talk of &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; at once.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I went to Hill's library in the Strand yesterday, to get a book for
+      mother, and there, sure enough, I saw your 'Evelina,'&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;I asked
+      the man in charge what it was about, and he replied that he didn't know;
+      it was bad enough, he thought, to be compelled to hand out books all day
+      to readers without being forced to read them for himself; but he supposed
+      that 'Evelina' was a novel of the usual sort.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That was not extravagant praise,&rdquo; remarked Susy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He didn't mean to praise it,&rdquo; said Edward. &ldquo;But when I asked him if
+      anyone who had read it had recommended it, he admitted that every one of
+      the five ladies who had read it was ready to speak well of it&mdash;one of
+      them had taken it away a second time; and&mdash;would you believe it?&mdash;while
+      I was standing at the counter a footman entered the shop with a demand for
+      'Eveliena,' as he called it; and he carried off the copy that was already
+      on the desk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For the delectation of the servants' hall?&rdquo; suggested Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not at all&mdash;it had been recommended to her ladyship, he said, and he
+      had been commanded on no account to return without it; her ladyship was
+      liberal; she would not mind paying sixpence for it, instead of the
+      ordinary fourpence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That was more than liberal, it was generous to a degree,&rdquo; said Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't interrupt him,&rdquo; cried Susy. &ldquo;Continue your narrative, Eddy. I am
+      dying to hear the rest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I asked the library man if he knew who wrote the book, and he replied
+      that he had heard the name, but had forgotten it; so far as he remembered
+      the author was a peer of high rank but eccentric habits,&rdquo; said Edward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The book represented his eccentric habits, I suppose,&rdquo; remarked Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I ran out of the place roaring,&rdquo; said Edward. &ldquo;'A peer of high rank but
+      eccentric habits'&mdash;describes you to a T, doesn't it, Cousin Fanny?
+      Pray what is your lordship's next work to be, and when will it be given to
+      an eager world?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is that all you have to tell?&rdquo; asked Susy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By no means. When I heard that the book was thought well of in the
+      Strand, I thought I would try to get at the opinion of Stanhope Street&mdash;you
+      know Masterman's circulating library there? Well, I boldly entered, and
+      there, sure enough, was a well-thumbed 'Evelina' in front of the
+      librarian. I asked for some book that no one had ever heard of, and when
+      the librarian had told me that he had never been asked for that book
+      before, I pointed to 'Evelina,' inquiring if it was any good. 'I'm dead
+      tired on account of its goodness, for I was fool enough to take it to bed
+      with me last night, and I never closed my eyes in sleep,' he replied. 'I
+      had it praised to me by a lady of quality, and so too hastily concluded
+      that it would either send me asleep with its dullness, or shock me with
+      its ribaldry; but it did neither, unhappily.' Just then a chariot stopped
+      at the door and another footman entered with the name 'Evelina' written on
+      a sheet of paper, and off he popped with the full three volumes under his
+      arm. I waited no longer; but hurried hither to give you my news. I did not
+      get so far, however, for I was unlucky enough to be overtaken by that vile
+      downpour of rain, and it did not blow over until your dinner hour was at
+      hand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are my good angel,&rdquo; cried Fanny, her cheeks glowing. &ldquo;We have heard
+      nothing of all this respecting the book, and, hearing nothing, we took it
+      for granted that it was dead&mdash;dead before it was ever alive. Oh, this
+      is good news you have brought us, Eddy!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The best news that has come to us for months!&rdquo; said Susy. She had turned
+      her head away and was furtively wiping her eyes. The good news affected
+      the sympathetic Susy almost as deeply as her disappointment had done.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I have only told you of my adventures of yesterday,&rdquo; said Edward.
+      &ldquo;To-day I tried the booksellers, beginning with Mr. Davies and
+      working-round to the Dillys in the Poultry&mdash;it cost me three
+      shillings, for I had to buy something that I did not particularly want in
+      every shop to excuse my inquiries&mdash;and I found 'Evelina' on every
+      counter. I cannot say that any customer came in to buy it while I was in
+      any shop, but you may be sure that the book would not be on the counter
+      unless it was highly thought of. Of course I had need to be very discreet
+      among the booksellers; I dared not ask who was the author, but I longed to
+      do so, if only to hear what new story had been made up about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You heard quite enough to make us glad,&rdquo; cried Susy. &ldquo;Oh, how foolish we
+      were to take it for granted that because we had no news of the book, it
+      was dead! It is alive&mdash;greatly alive, it would appear! How could any
+      news of it have come to us here? We should have gone forth in search of
+      it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I knew that we could depend on your discretion,&rdquo; said Fanny, laying a
+      hand on each of his shoulders. &ldquo;I do not think that I ever thanked you as
+      I should for the wise way in which you managed the business with Mr.
+      Lowndes, and now I must not neglect to do so for having acted the part of
+      a benevolent agent in bringing us such good news about the book.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Psha! there should be no talk of gratitude and the like between us,&rdquo; said
+      he. &ldquo;There are family ties&mdash;I think of the honour of our family.
+      People already talk of the clever Burneys, but they left you out of the
+      question, Cousin Fanny, since they only thought of music. But now that you
+      have shown what you can do in another direction, you must be reckoned with
+      alongside the others.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what about the other branch of the clever Burneys?&rdquo; said Fanny.
+      &ldquo;Don't you think that people will some of these days begin to ask if
+      Edward Burney, the great painter, is really a brother of the musical
+      Burneys? I hope they will, dear Edward; I hope that the fame of Edward
+      Burney, the painter, will go far beyond that of the musical Burneys, as
+      well as poor Fanny Burney who once wrote a novel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young man blushed as Fanny herself would certainly have done if
+      confronted with the least little compliment. But there was no false shame
+      about his acceptance of her suggestion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean to become as good a painter as I can, in order to be worthy of the
+      name of Burney,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;I feel proud of being a Burney&mdash;more so
+      to-day than ever before, and I hope that the rest of the Burney's will
+      some day look on me as doing credit to our name.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sure that they will have every reason to do so,&rdquo; said Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When he had gone, Susy gave way to her delight at the news which he had
+      brought. She was a good deal taller than Fanny, and catching her round the
+      waist after the manner of the Elizabethan dancer with his partner, she
+      danced round the table with her, lilting a somewhat breathless pæan. Fanny
+      herself needed no coaxing to be her partner in this revel. In her jubilant
+      moments she got rid of the primness which most people associated with her.
+      She had a wild jig known as &ldquo;Nancy Dawson,&rdquo; and she had more than once
+      found it necessary to get rid of her superfluous spirits through this
+      medium. She joined in her sister's little whoop at the completion of the
+      third &ldquo;lap&rdquo; of the table, and they both threw themselves breathless on the
+      sofa.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I knew it,&rdquo; said Susy between her gasps. &ldquo;I knew that I could not be
+      mistaken in believing 'Evelina' to be good&mdash;I knew that she would
+      make her way in the affections of her readers, and I was right&mdash;you
+      see I was right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You were right, dear Susy&mdash;quite right,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;I do not like
+      to be too sanguine, but I do believe, from the reports Eddy brought us,
+      that the book will find plenty of readers. Now that we can think over the
+      matter in a reasonable way, we must see how foolish we were to expect that
+      the very day after the book was published people would crowd to buy it;
+      but now, after six weeks, when Eddy goes in search of news about it, he
+      brings back a report which is&mdash;we had best say for the present no
+      more than 'quite satisfactory'&mdash;that was the bookseller's report
+      about the sales of the first volume of the padre's 'History'&mdash;'quite
+      satisfactory'&mdash;that should be quite satisfactory for the author of
+      'Evelina' and her sisters. There is nothing in the book to stir people as
+      it would if written by Mr. Wilkes, but in its humble way it will, I am now
+      persuaded, be pronounced 'quite satisfactory.' At any rate, there goes my
+      sewing for the evening.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She rolled up the strip of linen into a ball and used her hand, after two
+      false starts, as a battledore, to send it flying across the room within
+      reach of Susy, who, being more adroit, was able at the first attempt to
+      return it with both force and precision. Once more Fanny struck it, and
+      her sister sent it back, but by this time the unequal ball had opened out,
+      so that it was only by her foot that Fanny could deal with it effectively.
+      Then, daintily holding up their petticoats, the author of &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; and
+      Susy Burney played with the thing until once more they were panting and
+      laughing joyously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Perhaps Fanny had a faint inkling of the symbolism implied by this
+      treatment of the discarded needlework.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXI
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>UT little Miss
+      Burney had recovered all her primness on the evening when, a week later,
+      she accompanied her stepmother to partake of tea at the home of the
+      Barlowes in the Poultry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Young Mr. Barlowe had, for some time after his visit to St. Martin's
+      Street, brooded over his indiscretion in allowing his impulse at the
+      moment of saying good night to carry him away so that he pressed Miss
+      Burney's hand, looking into her eyes with an expression in his own of the
+      deepest sympathy&mdash;rather more than sympathy. He felt that he had been
+      unduly and indiscreetly hasty in his action. It had been purely impulsive.
+      He had by no means made up his mind that Miss Burney would make him a
+      satisfactory wife. His father and mother had, for a long time, thought
+      very highly of Mrs. Burney, looking on her as a most thrifty and excellent
+      manager of a household. She had shown herself to be all this and more when
+      her first husband was alive and they had visited her at Lynn; and she had
+      proved her capabilities in the same direction since she had married Dr.
+      Burney. Unfortunately, however, the virtues of a stepmother could not be
+      depended on to descend to the children of her husband's family, and it was
+      by no means certain that Miss Burney had made full use of her
+      opportunities of modelling herself upon her father's second wife.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      No, he had not quite made up his mind on this subject&mdash;the gravest
+      that had ever occupied his attention, and he remained sleepless for hours,
+      fearful that he had gone too far in that look and that squeeze. He had
+      heard of fathers and even brothers waiting upon young men who had acted
+      toward a daughter or a sister pretty much as he had in regard to Miss
+      Burney. He had rather a dread of being visited by Miss Burney's brother,
+      that young naval officer who had boasted of having been educated by a
+      murderer. Mr. Barlowe thought that a visit from such a young man would be
+      most undesirable, and for several days he went about his business with
+      great uneasiness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But when a week had gone by and neither father nor brother had waited upon
+      him, he began to review his position more indulgently than when he had
+      previously given it his consideration. He thought more hopefully of Miss
+      Burney as a wife. Perhaps she might have profited more largely than he had
+      thought by her daily intercourse with so capable a woman as Mrs. Burney.
+      At any rate, she was not musical, and that was something in her favour.
+      Then her stepmother had praised her needlework, and everyone knows that to
+      be a good sempstress is next to being a good housekeeper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He thought that on the whole she would do. Her brother, Lieutenant Burney,
+      would naturally spend most of his time at sea. That was a good thing.
+      Thomas felt that he should hesitate to make any change in his life that
+      involved a liability of frequent visits from a young man who had been
+      taught by a murderer. Who could tell what might happen in the case of such
+      a young man? As for Miss Burney herself, she was, quite apart from her
+      housewifely qualities, a most estimable young lady&mdash;modest and
+      retiring, as a young woman should be, and very beautiful. To be sure, he
+      had often heard that beauty was only skin deep, but even assuming that it
+      did not go any deeper, it had always been highly esteemed by men&mdash;none
+      of them seemed to wish it to be of any greater depth; and it was certain
+      that a man with a handsome wife was greatly envied&mdash;more so even than
+      a man who was married to a plain woman but a good housewife. Oh,
+      undoubtedly her beauty commended her to his most indulgent consideration.
+      He had no objection in the world to be widely envied, if only on account
+      of his wife's good looks. It never occurred to him that it might be that
+      some people would think very ordinary a face that seemed to one who was in
+      love with it extremely lovely. He preserved the precious privilege of a
+      man to raise up his own standard of beauty and expect all the rest of the
+      world to acknowledge its supremacy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yes, he thought that Miss Burney, beauty and all, would suit him, but
+      still he hesitated in making another call.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This was when Mr. Kendal had the honour of waiting upon Mrs. Burney, and
+      his visit only preceded by a day or two Mrs. Burney's call upon her old
+      friend, Mrs. Barlowe, in the Poultry; this interchange of courtesies being
+      speedily followed by an invitation for Mrs. Burney and a stepdaughter to
+      drink tea with the Barlowe family.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am taking you with me, Fanny, because you are the eldest and, as should
+      be, the most sensible of the household,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney, explaining&mdash;so
+      far as she thought wise&mdash;the invitation on the morning it was
+      received. &ldquo;There will be no music at Mrs. Barlowe's, I think, and so you
+      will have no distracting influence to prevent your forming a just opinion
+      of my old friends.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not mind in the least the absence of music for one night,&rdquo; said
+      Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sure of that,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;Goodness knows we have music
+      enough here during any day to last us over a whole week. The others could
+      not live without it, even if it were not your father's profession.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Without which none of us could live,&rdquo; remarked Fanny, who had no wish to
+      be forced into the position of the opponent of music in the household.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite right, my dear,&rdquo; acquiesced the elder lady. &ldquo;It is a precarious way
+      of making a living. To my mind there is nothing so satisfactory as a good
+      commercial business&mdash;a merchant with a shop at his back can afford to
+      laugh at all the world.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But he usually refrains,&rdquo; said Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;True; he looks at life with proper seriousness, and without levity. Great
+      fortunes are the result of serious attention to business. Levity leads to
+      poverty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Except in the case of Mr. Garrick and a few others.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Garrick is certainly an exception. But, then, you must remember that
+      he was a merchant before he became an actor, and his business habits never
+      left him. I have heard it said that he got more out of his company for the
+      salaries he paid than any theatre manager in Europe. But I did not come to
+      you to talk about Mr. Garrick. I only meant to say that I know you are an
+      observant girl. You do not merely glance at the surface of things, so I am
+      sure that you will perceive much to respect in all the members of Mrs.
+      Barlowe's family.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sure they are eminently&mdash;respectable, mamma; and I am glad that
+      you have chosen me to be your companion this evening. I like going among
+      such people&mdash;it is useful.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She stopped short in a way that should have aroused the suspicions of Mrs.
+      Burney, but that lady was unsuspecting, she was only puzzled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Useful?&rdquo; she said interrogatively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny had no mind to explain that she thought herself rather good at
+      describing people of the Barlowe type, and was ready to submit herself to
+      more experience of them in case she might be encouraged to write another
+      novel. But she knew that she would have some difficulty in explaining this
+      to her stepmother, who herself was an excellent type.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Useful&mdash;perhaps I should rather have said 'instructive,'&rdquo; she
+      replied, after a little pause.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Instructive, yes; I am glad that you look at our visit so sensibly&mdash;I
+      knew you would do so. Yes, you should learn much of the excellence of
+      these people even in the short time that we shall be with them. And it is
+      well that you should remember, my dear Fanny, that you are now quite old
+      enough to have a house of your own to look after.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was now Fanny's turn to seem puzzled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not quite see how&mdash;I mean why&mdash;why&mdash;that is, the
+      connection&mdash;is there any connection between&mdash;&mdash;?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What I mean to say is that if at some time a suitor for your hand should
+      appear, belonging to a respectable mercantile family, you will know,
+      without the need of any telling, that your chances of happiness with such
+      a man are far greater than they would be were you to wed someone whose
+      means of getting a living were solely the practice of some of the arts, as
+      they are called&mdash;music or painting or the rest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not doubt that, mamma,&rdquo; said Fanny demurely. She was beginning to
+      think that her stepmother was a far better type than she had fancied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And her stepmother was beginning to think that she had never given Fanny
+      credit for all the good sense she possessed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The six o'clock tea-party in the Poultry was a function that Fanny
+      Burney's quick pen only could describe as it deserved to be described. All
+      the time that it was proceeding her fingers were itching to start on it.
+      She could see Mr. Crisp smiling in that appreciative way that he had, as
+      he read her smart sentences, every one of them with its little acid
+      flavour, that remained on the palate of his memory. She was an artist in
+      character drawing, and she was one of the first to perceive how excellent
+      was the material for artistic treatment that might be found in the house
+      of the English tradesman&mdash;the superior tradesman who aspired to be
+      called a merchant. She neglected no opportunity of observing such houses;
+      it was only when she was daily consorting with people of the highest rank
+      that she became alarmed lest her descriptions should be accepted as proof
+      that she was in the habit of meeting on terms of intimacy the types of
+      English bourgeois which she had drawn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The ground-floor of Mr. Barlowe's house in the Poultry was given over to
+      his business, which, as has already been mentioned, was that of a vendor
+      of gold and silver lace. The walls carried shelves from floor to ceiling,
+      and every shelf had its line of boxes enclosing samples of an abundant and
+      valuable stock. The large room at the back was a sort of counting-house
+      parlour, where Mr. Barlowe sat during the day with his son and an elderly
+      clerk, ready for the customers, whose arrival was announced by the ringing
+      of a spring.-bell. The scales for the weighing of the bullion and the
+      worked gold and silver wire were suspended above, the broad counter in the
+      shop, and from a hook between the shelves there hung a number of ruled
+      forms with spaces for oz., dwt. and grs. On these were entered the
+      particulars of the material supplied to the workmen who made up the lace
+      as required. The upper part of the house was the home of the family, the
+      spacious dining-room being in the front, its convex windows overhanging
+      the busy thoroughfare. Opening off this apartment was an equally large
+      drawingroom, and the furniture of both was of walnut made in the reign of
+      Queen Anne, with an occasional piece of Dutch marqueterie of the heavier
+      character favoured by the craftsmen of the previous sovereigns. The rooms
+      themselves were panelled with oak and lighted by candles in brass sconces.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It seemed to Fanny, on entering the diningroom, that every seat was
+      occupied. But she soon saw that there were several vacant chairs. It was
+      the imposing row of figures confronting her that made the room seem full,
+      although only six persons were present besides young Mr. Barlowe and his
+      parents, who met Mrs. Burney and her stepdaughter at the door. Fanny
+      greeted Thomas at once, and she could see that his eyes were beaming, but
+      with a rather more subdued light than shone in them on that night when he
+      had pressed her hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was conscious, at the same time, of the approach of a big elderly
+      gentleman, wearing a well-ordered wig, evidently newly curled, with a
+      small lady clad in expensive and expansive black silk by his side. He was
+      holding the tips of her fingers and they advanced in step as though they
+      were starting to dance a minuet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They stood in front of her and her mother, while Thomas, moving to one
+      side, said, making a low bow:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Burney, I have the honour to present to you my father, Mr. Barlowe,
+      and my mother, Mrs. Barlowe. Mrs. Burney, madam, you are, I know, already
+      acquainted with my parents.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The little lady curtsied and her husband made a fine shopkeeper's bow,
+      first to Fanny, then to Mrs. Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The formality of the presentation was overwhelming to poor Fanny. She
+      could feel herself blushing, and she certainly was more overcome than she
+      had been when Count Orloff, the Russian, visited the house in St. Martin's
+      Street and she gazed with awe upon the thumb that had, it was rumoured,
+      pressed too rigidly the wind-pipe of the unfortunate Peter. All that she
+      could do was to try to hide her confusion by the deepest of curtsies.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We are sensible of the honour you have done us, madam,&rdquo; said Mr. Barlowe
+      when he had recovered himself&mdash;he was addressing Fanny, ignoring for
+      the moment the presence of Mrs. Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Our son has spoken to us of you with great admiration, Miss Burney,&rdquo; said
+      the little lady. &ldquo;But I protest that when I look at you I feel as King
+      Solomon did when he saw the Queen of Sheba, the half has not been told.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, madam, you flatter me,&rdquo; said Fanny, trying to put some force into a
+      voice that her shyness had rendered scarcely audible.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her stepmother, perceiving how she was suffering, hastened to greet in a
+      much less formal way their host and hostess; but she had considerable
+      difficulty in bringing them down to her level. It seemed that they had
+      prepared some high phrases of welcome for their younger visitor only, and
+      they had no mind that they should be wasted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My stepdaughter is of a retiring nature,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;She is quite
+      unused to such ceremony as you honour her with. Well, Martha, how is the
+      rheumatism?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXII
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>RS. BARLOWE did
+      not seem half pleased to be brought down so from the high parallels of
+      etiquette among which she had been soaring. But she had lost her place,
+      and before she could recover herself, Fanny had slipped behind her
+      stepmother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ask me all about her rheumatism, madam, for 'tis me that knows more about
+      it than her,&rdquo; said Mr. Barlowe, with a jerk of his thumb and a wink in the
+      direction of his wife. The homely enquiry of Mrs. Burney had clearly
+      forced him to throw off all ceremony and treat the visit of Miss Burney as
+      an ordinary domestic incident.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His wife would have none of this, however; she said in tones of stiff
+      reproof:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Barlowe, you forget that the young lady has not been presented to
+      Brother Jonathan or the Alderman. Thomas, it is for you to usher the lady
+      into the presence of your uncles and aunts. Pray be not remiss, Thomas.
+      There is no excuse for such an omission.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was only waiting until you had finished, ma'am,&rdquo; said Thomas.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have finished,&rdquo; she replied, with a stiff nod. &ldquo;To be sure, 'twas my
+      intention to express, in what I trust would be appropriate terms, our
+      happiness in welcoming Miss Burney to our humble home; a few phrases of
+      this sort were not thought out of place when I was young; but it appears
+      that your father knows better what is <i>comme il faut</i> and <i>haut ton</i>
+      than me. Bring the young lady forward, Thomas.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The younger Thomas looked dubiously from his mother to his father. He was
+      uncommonly like an actor who had forgotten his part, Fanny thought&mdash;he
+      had no initiative. Fanny herself was more at home than any of the
+      household. While the young man hesitated, she walked up the room as if she
+      meant to present herself to the six figures that sat in a row at the
+      farther end.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thomas was beside her in a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I ask your pardon, Miss Burney,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;But I knew that mamma had at
+      least two more welcomes for your ear, and I feared that she had forgot
+      them. Do not you think that mamma speaks well? Perhaps it would be unjust
+      to judge her by what she said&mdash;she only made a beginning. You will be
+      delighted when you are going away.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny felt that this prediction was certain to be realized.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, mamma's good-byes are as well worded as her greetings,&rdquo; he
+      continued; &ldquo;a clergyman could scarcely better them; and I hope&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But now they were face to face with the six figures sitting in a row, and
+      as his conversation was only designed as an accompaniment to the march of
+      Fanny to this position, there was no reason to continue it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The figures were of two men and four ladies. The former were middle-aged
+      and bore an expression of gravity that a judge might have envied. Their
+      dress was sombre, but of the finest material possible to buy, and each of
+      them was painfully conscious of being in unusual garments. Of course,
+      Fanny saw in a moment that they were merchants wearing the garments in
+      which they attended church.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Of the four ladies, three were elderly and the fourth much younger. They
+      wore their hair built up in a way that suggested that they desired to
+      follow the fashion but had not the courage to complete the scheme with
+      which they had started. The long and thin and highly-coloured feathers
+      which crowned the stunted structures on their heads gave them the
+      appearance of a picture of unfamiliar birds. Their dresses were extremely
+      glossy and of an expensive material, but there was an eccentric note about
+      all that made them seem not impressive as they should have been, but
+      almost ludicrous. The youngest lady in the row showed unmistakable signs
+      of being given to simpering. She had gone much further than the others of
+      the party in the architecture of her hair, but that was possibly because
+      the material at her command was more abundant. The dressing of her hair,
+      however, was by no means in sympathy with the style of her garments, the
+      latter being simple and indeed rather too girlish for the wearer, who
+      looked between twenty-five and thirty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was an extraordinary ordeal that confronted Miss Burney, for young Mr.
+      Barlowe began presenting her to the group, starting from his left and
+      working slowly to the last of the row on the right. There was she with the
+      young man standing close to her, but sideways, doing the formalities of
+      presenting her, while his father and mother stood behind to see that he
+      omitted nothing. Mrs. Burney, a little way apart, was alternately smiling
+      and frowning at the ceremonial. She could see, from observing the effect
+      that the whole business was producing upon Fanny, that the Barlowes were
+      defeating their own ends, assuming that they desired Fanny to become a
+      member of their family. These absurd formalities were, Mrs. Burney knew,
+      quite out of place in a private house. But what could she do to cut them
+      short? She had made an attempt before, and it was received in anything but
+      a friendly spirit by their hostess, so that she did not feel inclined to
+      interfere again: the thing must run its course, she felt, reflecting upon
+      it as though it were a malady. There was no means of curtailing it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And its course was a slow one for the unhappy victim.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Burney, I have the honour to present my aunt on my mother's side&mdash;Mrs.
+      Alderman Kensit,&rdquo; droned Thomas, and the lady on the extreme left rose at
+      the mention of her name and made a carefully prepared curtsey, while the
+      sky-blue feather in her hair jerked awkwardly forward until the end almost
+      touched her nose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Proud to meet Miss Burney, I vow,&rdquo; said she as she rose; and anyone could
+      see from the expression on her face that she was satisfied that she had
+      gone far in proving her claim to be looked on as a lady of fashion. She
+      had never said &ldquo;I vow&rdquo; before, and she knew that it had startled her
+      relations. She felt that she could not help that. Miss Burney would
+      understand that she was face to face with someone who had mingled with the
+      best.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And this is Aunt Maria, father's sister, Mrs. Hutchings,&rdquo; came the voice
+      of Thomas, and the second lady bobbed up with quivering feathers and made
+      a well-practised curtsey. She did not trust herself to speak. Having heard
+      her neighbour's &ldquo;I vow,&rdquo; she knew that she could not go farther. She would
+      not compete with such an exponent of the mysteries of <i>haut ton</i>.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And this is Alderman Kensit of the Common Council; he is my uncle on my
+      mother's side&mdash;mother is a Kensit, you know,&rdquo; resumed Thomas. &ldquo;And
+      this is Aunt Jelicoe. My mother's sister married Mr. Jelicoe, of Tooley
+      Street. And this is my cousin, Miss Jelicoe. I am sure that you will like
+      Miss Jelicoe, Miss Burney, she is so young.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The youngest lady of the group simpered with great shyness, concealing
+      half her face with her fan and holding her head to one side, and then
+      pretending to be terribly fluttered. Her curtsey was made in a flurry, and
+      with a little exclamation of &ldquo;Oh, la!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Another uncle only remained to be presented; he turned out to be Mr.
+      Jonathan Barlowe, and he was, Thomas whispered half audibly to Fanny, in
+      trade in the Indies.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was all over, curtsies and bows and exclamations&mdash;echoes of the
+      world of fashion and elsewhere&mdash;she had been presented to every
+      member of the row and they had resumed their seats, while she hastened to
+      the side of her stepmother, hot and breathless. She had never before been
+      subjected to such an ordeal. She had gladly agreed to accompany her
+      stepmother to this house, for she hoped thereby to increase her
+      observation of a class of people who repaid her study of them; but she had
+      no notion that she should have to vacate her place as an Observer and take
+      up that of a Participator. She was to pay dearly for her experience.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was burning, her stepmother could see; and she believed that this was
+      due to her mortification on noticing that the dress of the ladies was
+      infinitely more expensive than hers. That would be enough to make any
+      young woman with ordinary susceptibilities indignant, she felt; and she
+      herself, having had an opportunity of giving some attention to the
+      expensive silks&mdash;she could appraise their value to a penny&mdash;was
+      conscious of some chagrin on this account. She was almost out of patience
+      with her old friend, Martha Barlowe, for making all this parade. The
+      foolish woman had done so, she knew, in order to impress Miss Burney and
+      to give her to understand that she was becoming associated with no
+      ordinary family. But Mrs. Burney had seen enough since she had left Lynn
+      for London to know that Fanny would not be the least impressed except in
+      the direction of boredom by such an excess of ceremony in the house of a
+      tradesman. She had heard Fanny's comment upon the gorgeous chariot which
+      Sir Joshua Reynolds had set up, and she could not doubt what Fanny's
+      opinion would be regarding this simple tea to which she had consented to
+      go at the Barlowes' house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny had hurried to her side as soon as she had passed the row of uncles
+      and aunts. She thought that the girl seemed overcome by the tedium of the
+      formalities; but in a few minutes she saw that Fanny was on the verge of
+      laughter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Burney could not say whether she would rather that her charge became
+      moody or hilarious.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eight separate curtsies,&rdquo; murmured Fanny. &ldquo;If there are to be the same
+      number going away we should begin at once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Burney thought it better not to reprove her for her flippancy just at
+      that moment. She condoned it with a smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Only a minute were the Burneys left to themselves. Mr. Barlowe, the elder,
+      walked solemnly up to them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Going on nicely, eh?&rdquo; he said in a confidential way to Mrs. Burney.
+      &ldquo;Everything being done decently and in order, madam. There has been no
+      cause of offence up to the present, though there are three persons in that
+      row who are as ready to see an offence where none is meant as a bunch of
+      flax to break into flame when a spark falls on it. The young lady is
+      discreet; if she had spoken to any one of them and not to the others,
+      there would have been a flare-up. The touchy ones belong to my wife's
+      family. She was a Kensit, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He made this explanation behind his hand and in a whisper; he saw that his
+      wife and son had been in earnest consultation together over some vexed
+      question, and now they were hovering about, waiting to catch his eye.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I spoke too soon,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Something has gone astray, and the blame
+      will fall on me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They hovered still nearer, and when he caught his eye, Thomas, the
+      younger, stepped up to his father, saying something in his ear. Mrs.
+      Barlowe went on hovering a yard or two away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That would never do,&rdquo; said her husband, evidently in reply to some
+      remonstrance offered by young Thomas. &ldquo;Never. The whole of the Kensits
+      would take offence.&rdquo; Then he turned again to Mrs. Burney, saying:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mrs. Burney, madam, my son has just reminded me that I have been remiss
+      in doing my duty. It was left to me to present you to our relations at the
+      head of the room, but I failed to do so, my mind being too full of the
+      pretty curtsies of Miss. But I am ready to make amends now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But Mrs. Burney had observed a little twinkle in Fanny's eye; she had no
+      notion of going through the ordeal to which Fanny had been subjected,
+      though the spectacle would doubtless have diverted Fanny hugely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, sir,&rdquo; she said quickly to the waiting gentleman, &ldquo;Nay, sir; you have
+      forgotten that the presentation of a lady's daughter is equivalent to the
+      presentation of the lady herself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, is that so?&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rest assured that it is,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;and an excellent rule it is. It
+      saves a repetition of a formality that is now frequently omitted in the
+      private houses of simple folk like ourselves. Lend me your arm, sir. I
+      shall soon make myself at home with Martha's relations.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She did not give him a chance of discussing the point with her; she saw
+      that he was about to state his objections to the rule she had invented for
+      her own saving, and she was already in advance of him in approaching the
+      row of figures on the chairs against the wall. Fanny heard her greeting
+      them in turn without any formality, and once again Thomas, the younger,
+      was by her side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His mother was still hovering, glancing suspiciously, first at the young
+      couple, and then at the hasty proceedings of her friend, Mrs. Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was unlike father to make so grave an omission, Miss Burney,&rdquo; he said,
+      apologetically.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope that no harm will come of it,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;I am afraid that you
+      found us very homely folk at our little house when you did us the honour
+      of visiting us,&rdquo; she added.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He waved his hand indulgently, smiling over her head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am always ready to take my place in such a circle,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;though
+      all the time I have a pretty full knowledge of the exchange of courtesies
+      which should mark the introduction of a stranger. Oh, yes, I do not mind
+      meeting some people as an equal, if they do not presume upon me
+      afterwards. Your brother has gone back to sea, I hear?&rdquo; he added.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, we shall not see him again for two years,&rdquo; she replied. &ldquo;Did he
+      presume upon you, sir? If so, I will take it upon me to offer you a humble
+      apology.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was considering if it might be possible that he was himself mistaken in
+      regard to the ear-trumpet,&rdquo; said Thomas.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sir Joshua's ear-trumpet? What of that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lieutenant Burney told me that it was a newly invented musical
+      instrument, blown by the ear instead of the mouth. It was not until I had
+      spoken of it to my father that I learned that the instrument was an
+      ear-trumpet used by the deaf. I had never seen one before. I wonder if
+      your brother intentionally deceived me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My brother is an officer in His Majesty's Fleet, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What does that mean, miss?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It means that he would resent an accusation of falsehood, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pray do not misunderstand me; I would shrink from accusing him of any
+      conduct unworthy of an officer and a gentleman. But I was certainly
+      deceived in fancying that the ear-trumpet was a musical instrument.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny made no reply. Her attention was directed to the entrance of two
+      servants, one bearing a large urn, the other a dish on which lay an
+      immense ham.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope you have an appetite, Miss Burney,&rdquo; said young Thomas. &ldquo;If so, you
+      will be able to stay it at that table, I'll warrant. Tea and cake may be
+      well enough for such as dine at four, but for us, who are three hours
+      earlier, something more substantial is needed. You will find that there is
+      no stint in this house.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny had an idea that the young man meant to suggest that she would find
+      the tea-table at the Poultry to make a striking contrast to that of St.
+      Martin's Street; and she was not mistaken.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Neither was he. A greater contrast could scarcely be imagined. When Fanny
+      was formally conducted to a seat at the table by the side of young Mr.
+      Barlowe, she found herself confronting such a variety of eatables as was
+      absolutely bewildering. The first glance that she had at the dishes had a
+      stunning effect upon her. Her impression was one of repletion; she felt
+      that that glance was by itself equivalent to a hearty meal&mdash;a heavy
+      meal. She felt inclined to turn her head away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But a moment afterwards she became alert. Here was food&mdash;ample food
+      for an amusing letter to Mr. Crisp, and, later, for a chapter in a
+      possible novel. She would let nothing escape her notice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She settled down to observe everything; and her stepmother, sitting
+      opposite to her, knew from the twinkle in her eyes, that Thomas's suit was
+      hopeless. She had heard that music is the food of love. She was not sure
+      of this; but she was convinced that butcher's meat was not. That was where
+      she saw that Thomas had made his mistake. He had placed too much
+      dependence upon that great ham. He carved that ham with all the solemnity
+      that should accompany such a rite, not knowing that he was slicing away
+      all his chances of commending himself to Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXIII
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T was an
+      interesting experience for Miss Burney, the writer of novels and the
+      writer of letters. She had never sat down with such a company. They all
+      had their table peculiarities. One uncle took ale for his tea, and drained
+      a tankard before eating anything. The other claimed a particular cup on
+      account of its capacity, and he held it to his mouth with one hand, while
+      he passed a second down the table to Miss Burney, only spilling a spoonful
+      or two in effecting the transit. One of the aunts refused to eat anything
+      except cake, explaining, in order to relieve the anxiety of the company,
+      the details of an acute attack of spleen from which she had recently
+      suffered. The spleen and its humours formed the subject of a fitful
+      conversation at her end of the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But it was plain that everyone understood that the company had not come to
+      the table for conversation, but for food. They did not converse, but that
+      was not the same as saying the room was silent. There was a constant
+      clanging of cups, a constant clatter of platters, a loud and insistent
+      demand on the part of Thomas, the elder, and Thomas, the younger, for
+      their guests to say what they would like to eat. This was followed by the
+      handing of plates up and down the table, the sound of steel knives being
+      sharpened, and the jingle of spoons in saucers. The Alderman, who was, of
+      course, an authority on the etiquette of banquets, was formulating an
+      elaborate explanation of the mistake that had been made in the service of
+      the cold sirloin in advance of the venison pasty; and all the time his
+      neighbour was striking the haft of his knife upon the table with a request
+      for someone to pass him the pickles.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All the ceremonial veneer had plainly left the company the moment they
+      seated themselves, and they addressed themselves to the business of
+      feeding. They had healthy appetites&mdash;even the lady who had had a
+      recent attack of the spleen. She would eat nothing but cake, but she did
+      eat cake with confidence. There was no sort of cake that she did not try,
+      and her cup was kept in constant circulation from the tea-maker to herself&mdash;four
+      times she had it refilled, Fanny could not help noticing, and she wondered
+      what effect such a diet would have upon her capricious spleen. Fanny had
+      an inward hint or two that she had observed quite enough of the party to
+      serve her purpose, and she began to count the moments until she might be
+      able to steal away without offending the susceptibilities of her
+      over-hospitable host and hostess. She hoped that her stepmother would
+      listen to her plea of weariness and take her back to St. Martin's Street&mdash;to
+      the music of St. Martin's Street&mdash;to the quiet of St. Martin's
+      Street.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The most solid hour of her life had, however, to elapse before her
+      fellow-guests pushed their plates (empty) away from them, and Mrs. Barlowe
+      said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid you have made a poor tea, Miss Burney; but if you cannot be
+      persuaded to have a slice of ham&mdash;my son's ham, I call it, for 'tis
+      he who picks it out of the curer's stock whenever we have a party&mdash;if
+      you still refuse it, we might go to the drawing-room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny was on her feet in an instant. But not sooner than Alderman Kensit.
+      That gentleman, rapping with the haft of his knife on the table, stood
+      with a sheaf of notes in his hand and clearing his throat with great
+      deliberation, started upon a speech in eulogy of Mr. Barlowe's merits as a
+      host and as a merchant, and droned away for a good half-hour in praise of
+      the virtue of hospitality, his text being on the possibility of
+      entertaining angels unawares. Of course, it was only natural that, having
+      got upon this track and with the word &ldquo;angels&rdquo; in his mind, he should go
+      on to say that it was quite possible for a hospitably-inclined person to
+      entertain an angel and be fully cognizant of the fact, and so forth: in a
+      speech of well-worn platitudes such a suggestion seemed inevitable; and
+      all eyes were directed to poor Fanny when it seemed impending. It was a
+      great disappointment to everybody&mdash;except Fanny and her stepmother&mdash;when
+      the orator skipped the expected phrases, and went on to describe a
+      business visit which he had once made to Spain, apropos of nothing in
+      particular. His account of this feat was familiar to all his relations,
+      but they listened to him without a murmur, only wondering when he would
+      come to the angel and Miss Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He never came to the angel and Miss Burney, for it so happened that he had
+      turned over two pages of his notes when he should have only turned over
+      one. The omitted platitude was on the first, and he failed to notice the
+      absence of a platitudinal sequence in the heads of his discourse which he
+      had jotted down during the day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When he had seated himself, Mr. Barlowe, the elder, got upon his feet, but
+      he had no notes, and not being a member of the Common Council, he was not
+      a past-master of commonplaces. He was only dull for about five minutes
+      instead of half an hour. He had risen with a view to repair his relative's
+      omission of that obvious point about entertaining an angel by appointment
+      in the shape of Miss Burney, but he lost himself before he managed to
+      deliver it; it swam out of his ken with several other points the moment he
+      got upon his legs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fully recognizing how narrow was the escape she had had, Fanny was
+      resolved not to run any further chances. She was looking imploringly
+      toward Mrs. Burney, trying to catch that lady's eye, but without success,
+      and she was about to walk round the table to her side and to beg her to
+      come away, when Mrs. Barlowe moved up to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Burney,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I am afraid you did not get anything you liked
+      at the table: I saw that you scarce ate more than a morsel of cake.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I assure you, madam, I had enough,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;Your cake was so tasty I
+      had no mind to go away from it in search of other delicacies.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am glad you liked it. I made it with my own hands,&rdquo; said the hostess.
+      &ldquo;That cake was ever a favourite with Mr. Barlowe and my son. It pleases me
+      to know that you and my son have tastes in common. He is a good son, is
+      Thomas, though I say it that shouldn't; and he is making his way to the
+      front by treading in his father's footsteps. Mr. Barlowe is not a Common
+      Councilman, but his father, Thomas's grandfather, was for a year
+      Deputy-Master of the Wyre Drawers' Company&mdash;his certificate still
+      hangs on the wall of the drawing-room. You must see it. Thomas, you will
+      show Miss Burney your grandfather's certificate as Deputy-Master.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should like very much to see it,&rdquo; said Fanny quickly, &ldquo;but I fear that
+      mamma will wish me to accompany her home at once. My sisters are alone
+      to-night and they will feel lonely: we promised to return early.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will get Mrs. Burney's permission for you&mdash;so good an opportunity
+      should not be thrown away,&rdquo; said Mrs. Barlowe, giving the latter part of
+      her sentence an unmistakable inflection as she looked toward her son and
+      smiled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had gone round the table before Fanny could think of another excuse
+      for evading the visit to the drawing-room in the company of Mr. Barlowe,
+      the younger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And Mr. Barlowe, the younger, was still by her side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Doesn't Uncle Kensit make a fine speech?&rdquo; he inquired. &ldquo;He is always
+      ready. I have heard it said that he speaks longer than any Alderman in the
+      Council.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can quite believe it,&rdquo; replied Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tis a wonderful gift,&rdquo; said he&mdash;&ldquo;to be always ready to say what one
+      is expected to say. Though I did think that when he referred to the angels
+      he meant to&mdash;to&mdash;go farther&mdash;I mean nearer-nearer home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Thomas might himself have gone farther had his mother not returned at that
+      moment from her diplomatic errand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have prevailed upon Mrs. Burney to let you stay to see the
+      certificate,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;Thomas, you will conduct Miss Burney to the
+      drawing-room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sure that mamma would wish to see the certificate also,&rdquo; said Fanny.
+      &ldquo;I will ask her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is no need, Miss Burney: we shall all join you later,&rdquo; said Mrs.
+      Barlowe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Poor Fanny saw that there was no use trying to evade the attentions of
+      Thomas, and as she walked toward the folding doors by his side she was
+      conscious of a silence in the room and of all eyes being turned upon her&mdash;smiles&mdash;such
+      knowing smiles&mdash;and a smirk from the young lady. Fanny was aware of
+      all, and what she was too short-sighted to see she was able to imagine.
+      She was burning at the thought of all those people gazing at her in
+      silence. It was the most trying moment of her life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She passed through the door which Thomas opened for her and closed behind
+      her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am glad to have this opportunity, Miss Burney,&rdquo; said he, when they were
+      alone in the big half-lighted room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must hold your grandfather's certificate in high esteem, sir,&rdquo; said
+      she. &ldquo;I suppose so high a place as he reached is but rarely attained by
+      mortals. You will have to guide me to the document: I have very poor
+      eyesight, as you must have noticed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a great drawback,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;But we will not talk about
+      grandfather's certificate just yet, if you please: I have something to say
+      to you that will, I hope, interest you even more than that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You surprise me, sir,&rdquo; said Fanny icily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, I hope that you know me well enough not to be surprised by all that
+      I have to reveal to you now that the opportunity has been given to me.
+      Have you no inkling of what I am about to say, Miss Burney?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not the least, sir. I expected only to see that relic of your
+      grandfather's honourable career.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, after meeting Uncle Kensit and Aunt Jelicoe, you do not feel
+      interested in their families?&rdquo; said he, in a tone of genuine surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny looked at him before she spoke, and there certainly was more than a
+      note of casual interest in her voice as she said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Their families? Oh, I should like above all things to hear about their
+      families.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I knew that you would,&rdquo; said he, apparently much relieved. (She wondered
+      if the relief that she felt was as apparent as his.) &ldquo;Yes, I felt certain
+      that you would welcome this opportunity of learning something about the
+      Kensits and the Jelicoes. They are remarkable people, as you cannot have
+      failed to perceive.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He made a pause&mdash;-a pause that somehow had an interrogative tendency.
+      She felt that he meant it to be filled up by her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are remarkable people&mdash;very remarkable,&rdquo; said she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We are very fortunate in all our relations, Miss Burney,&rdquo; said he with
+      great solemnity. &ldquo;But, of course, Uncle Kensit stands high above them all
+      in force of character. A great man indeed is Alderman Kensit&mdash;a
+      member of the Haberdashers' and Grocers' Companies as well as the City
+      Council, and yet quite ready to meet ordinary persons as fellow-men. He
+      had heard the name of your friend, Sir Joshua Reynolds, though not the
+      name of Dr. Burney, and he was kind enough to say that he would have no
+      objection in the world to meet either of these gentlemen. That shows you
+      what sort of man he is&mdash;his fine, simple nature. 'If Dr. Burney or
+      Sir Joshua Reynolds were duly presented to me, I should feel it my duty to
+      be civil to him '&mdash;those were his exact words.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Once more there was an interrogative pause.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps they may be fortunate enough to meet him some day,&rdquo; was all Fanny
+      could trust herself to say.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I would not say so much to them&mdash;he is very busy just now,&rdquo; said
+      Thomas hastily. &ldquo;It would have to be arranged with care and thought&mdash;I
+      would not like them to be disappointed. But if it would please you, I
+      daresay a meeting could be brought about; meantime, I would not raise up
+      any false hopes on the matter, if I were you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may depend on my preserving the strictest secrecy, Mr. Barlowe,&rdquo; said
+      Fanny. &ldquo;I should think that I might even discipline myself to forget that
+      such a person as Alderman Kensit existed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That would perhaps be the safest course to pursue,&rdquo; said he thoughtfully,
+      and with an air of prudence that made him for the moment the subject of a
+      description after Fanny's own heart. She felt that she could fool this
+      young man as easily as her brother had fooled him. Surely he was made to
+      be fooled, with his solemn airs and his incapacity to distinguish what is
+      worthy from what is pompous.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she continued, &ldquo;Dr. Burney has had it intimated to him since the
+      publication of his 'History' that the King was desirous of talking to him
+      at Windsor, and I know that Sir Joshua is being visited daily by the
+      Duchess of Devonshire and the Duchess of Ancaster, and it would be a great
+      pity if my father were forced to write excusing himself to His Majesty on
+      account of having to meet Alderman&mdash;Alderman&mdash;I protest that I
+      have already forgotten the gentleman's name&mdash;nay, do not tell it to
+      me; I might be tempted to boast of having met him, and if I did so in Sir
+      Joshua's presence, his beautiful Duchesses would be forlorn when they
+      found that he had hurried away on the chance of meeting the Alderman. And
+      now, sir, I think that I shall return to Mrs. Burney.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I have not told you half of what I can tell about our family,&rdquo; he
+      cried. &ldquo;I have said nothing about my aunts&mdash;I have four aunts and
+      eleven cousins. You would surely like to hear of my cousins. They do not
+      all live in London. I have three as far away as Lewes; their name is
+      Johnson. My mother's youngest sister married a Johnson, as you may have
+      heard. I believe that some objection was raised to the match at first, but
+      it turned out quite satisfactory.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is pleasant to know that; and so, sir, as we have come to this point,
+      don't you think that we had better adjourn our conference?&rdquo; said Fanny.
+      &ldquo;It would be doing the Johnson family a grave injustice were you to
+      attempt to describe their virtues within the time that is left to us, and
+      that would be the greatest catastrophe of all. Besides, I came hither all
+      unprepared for these revelations. If you had hinted at what was in store
+      for me I would, of course, have disciplined myself&mdash;forewarned is
+      forearmed, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Burney had received many a lesson from Mr. Garrick, from the days
+      when he had come to entertain her in the nursery, in the art of fooling,
+      and she was now quite capable of holding her own when she found herself in
+      the presence of so foolable a person as this egregious young man. But the
+      game was apt to become wearisome at the close of an evening when she had
+      suffered much, and when the subject of her raillery had shown himself to
+      be incapable even of suspecting her of practising on him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But there is Aunt Jelicoe; I should like to tell you something of Aunt
+      Jelicoe,&rdquo; pleaded Thomas. &ldquo;Without any of the advantages of her parents,
+      Aunt Jelicoe&mdash;and&mdash;oh, I have something more to say to you&mdash;not
+      about them&mdash;about ourselves&mdash;you and me&mdash;I was nearly
+      forgetting&mdash;you will stay&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One cannot remember everything, Mr. Barlowe,&rdquo; said Fanny, with her hand
+      on the knob of the door. &ldquo;You have done very well, I think, in remembering
+      so much as you have told me. As for ourselves&mdash;you have quite
+      convinced me of my own insignificance&mdash;and yours also, sir. You would
+      be doing us a grave injustice were you to speak of us so soon after your
+      estimable relations.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps you are right,&rdquo; said he, after a few moments of frowning thought.
+      &ldquo;Yes. I see now that it might have been wiser if I had begun with
+      ourselves and then&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny had turned the handle. She re-entered the dining-room, and the
+      moment that she appeared silence fell upon the company, and once again she
+      was conscious of many eyes gazing at her and of horrid smiles and a smirk.
+      That was another ordeal for the shy little Miss Burney&mdash;it was an
+      evening of ordeals.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She walked straight across the room to her stepmother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am ready to go away now,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;We have never stayed at any house
+      so long when we only came for tea. I am tired to death.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She took care, of course, that Mrs. Burney only should hear her; and Mrs.
+      Burney, being well aware that Fanny was not one to complain unless with
+      ample cause, charitably interposed between her and Mrs. Barlowe, whom she
+      saw bearing down upon her from the other side of the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fanny and I will say our good-night to you now, my dear Martha,&rdquo; she
+      said. &ldquo;You have treated us far too kindly. That must be our excuse for
+      staying so long. When people drop in to tea they do not, as a rule, stop
+      longer than an hour, as you know. But you overwhelmed us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was hoping&mdash;&rdquo; began Mrs. Barlowe, trying to get on to Fanny, but
+      by the adroitness of Mrs. Burney, not succeeding. &ldquo;I was hoping&mdash;you
+      know what I was hoping&mdash;we were all hoping&mdash;expecting&mdash;they
+      were in the drawing-room long enough.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Burney gave her a confidential look, which she seemed to interpret
+      easily enough. She replied by a confidential nod&mdash;the nod of one who
+      understands a signal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mum it shall be, then,&rdquo; she whispered. &ldquo;Not a word will come from me,
+      simply good-night; but we could all have wished&mdash;never mind, Thomas
+      will tell us all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Burney allowed her to pass on to Fanny, having obtained her promise
+      not to bother the girl&mdash;that was how Mrs. Burney framed the promise
+      in her own mind&mdash;and Mrs. Barlowe kept faith with her, and even
+      persuaded Alderman Kensit, who was approaching them slowly with a sheaf of
+      notes in his hand, to defer their delivery in the form of a speech until
+      the young woman had gone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And thus the visitors from St. Martin's Street were able to escape going
+      through the formality of taking leave of all the party. They shook hands
+      only with their host and hostess and their son, curtseying very politely
+      to the company of relations.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are warm-hearted people, but their weakness for ceremony and the
+      like is foolish enough,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney to Fanny, when they were safe
+      within the hackney carriage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, indeed, there is no harm in any of them,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;They may be a
+      little foolish in thinking that the Poultry is St. James's Palace or
+      Buckingham House. The only one among them who is an arrant fool is the
+      son. You saw how his mother made it up that he should lead me into the
+      other room?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was maladroitly done indeed. What had he to say to you when he got you
+      there, I wonder?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He had nothing to say to me except that his uncles were second in all the
+      virtues and all the talents to no man in town, and that his aunts and
+      cousins&mdash;but he did not get so far in his praise of his aunts and
+      cousins; I fled. Oh, did you see him cut slices off the ham?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny laughed quite pleasantly, with a consciousness of having at her
+      command the material on which to found a scene that would set her sisters
+      shrieking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, if Mr. Garrick had but seen him carve that ham!&rdquo; she cried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish that Mr. Garrick would give all his attention to his own affairs
+      and leave us to manage ours in our own way,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What? Why, what had Mr. Garrick to do with our visit to&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Twas Mr. Garrick who continued his fooling of Mr. Kendal, sending him
+      all over the town trying to make matches. He believes that he is under a
+      debt of gratitude to Mr. Garrick and your father for the happiness he
+      enjoys with his bride.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And he suggested that a match might be made between someone in St.
+      Martins Street and someone in the Poultry? But how does Mr. Kendal come to
+      be acquainted with the Barlowes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;His wife was a Johnson before she married her first husband, and the
+      Johnsons are closely connected with the Barlowes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Young Mr. Barlowe was just coming to the family history of the Johnsons
+      when I interrupted him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Was he coming to any other matter that concerned you more closely, think
+      you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny laughed again, only much longer this time than before. She had to
+      wipe her eyes before she could answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear mamma,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;you would laugh as heartily if you had seen him
+      when he suddenly recollected that in his eagerness to make me acquainted
+      with the glories of the Kensits and the abilities of the Johnsons, he had
+      neglected the object of his excursion to that room with my poor self,
+      until it was too late.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I doubt it,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;I do not laugh at incidents of that sort.
+      I lose patience when I hear of a young man neglecting his chances when
+      they are offered to him. But had he ever a chance with you, Fanny?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not the remotest, dear mamma. If he had remembered to speak in time, and
+      if he had spoken with all the eloquence of his admirable uncle, the
+      Alderman, he would not have succeeded. If Thomas Barlowe were the last man
+      in the world I should e'en die an old maid.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is a foolish thing for you to say. You may die an old maid for that.
+      But indeed when I saw young Mr. Barlowe in his home, I perceived that he
+      was not for you. I could not see you a member of that family, worthy
+      though they may be.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think if a girl loves a young man with all her heart she will agree to
+      marry him, however worthy may be his family,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;But I am not
+      that girl, and young Mr. Barlowe is not that man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I daresay that is how you feel,&rdquo; said the elder lady. &ldquo;But you must not
+      forget, Fanny, that you are no longer a girl; it is quite time that you
+      had a house of your own.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is true, dear mamma, but for the present I am happy in living in
+      your house, and I ask for nothing better than to be allowed to stay in
+      your service.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is all very well, but&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, do not introduce that 'but'&mdash;life would be thoroughly happy if
+      it were not for its 'buts.' Here we are in Leicester Fields. I feel as if
+      I should like a roast apple for supper, to put a pleasant taste in my
+      mouth at the close of the longest day I can remember.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They entered the parlour on the ground floor, and found Lottie and Susy
+      roasting apples on the hearth, while Dr. Burney sat in his chair reading.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did not expect you back so soon,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney to her husband.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did not mean to return for another hour,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;but Sir Joshua left
+      early and brought me with him in his coach. He cut his evening short in
+      order to get back to a book which he affirms is the best he has read since
+      Fielding.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It would have to be a good book to take the attention of Sir Joshua,&rdquo;
+       said Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;Did you hear what was its name?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is called 'Evelina,' I believe,&rdquo; replied Dr. Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A novel, of course. I remember hearing the name some time ago,&rdquo; said his
+      wife. &ldquo;'Evelina'; yes, it has a familiar sound. I cannot recollect at this
+      moment who it was that mentioned it to me. I believe I told you of it at
+      the time, Fanny.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not remember your telling me that anyone had mentioned it to you;
+      but I am nearly sure that that was the name of the novel advertised in the
+      <i>Chronicle</i>&mdash;you read out all about it after breakfast one
+      morning,&rdquo; said Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are quite right&mdash;that was how I got the name in my mind. Now you
+      can have your roasted apple, child. But if you are hungry you have only
+      yourself to thank for it. Don't bend so over the fire, Susy; your face is
+      frightfully fed&mdash;so, for that matter, is Lottie's. No, thanks, you
+      need not roast one for me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXIV
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>OME weeks had
+      passed since Cousin Edward had brought his exhilarating news that the book
+      was being asked for at the libraries, and during this interval, Fanny had
+      heard nothing of its progress. She had applied in the name of Mr. Grafton
+      for a copy to be addressed to the Orange Coffee House, but Mr. Lowndes had
+      paid no attention to her request, Edward found out on going to the Coffee
+      House, so it seemed plain to Fanny that the book was not making the stir
+      in the world that her cousin's report from the libraries had attributed to
+      it. But here was a distinct proof that it had at last reached their own
+      circle, and somehow Fanny and her sisters felt that this meant fame.
+      Somehow they had come to think of the readers of the book as being very
+      remote from them&mdash;people whom they were never likely to meet; they
+      had never thought of the possibility of its being named under their own
+      roof by anyone not in the secret of its authorship. But now the strange
+      thing had come to pass: it was not only named by their father, but named
+      with the most extraordinary recommendation that it could receive!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What! Sir Joshua was not only reading it, but he had curtailed his stay at
+      the club in order to get home to continue it! Sir Joshua had actually been
+      content to forsake the society of his brilliant friends, every one of them
+      more or less notable in the world, in order that he might read the story
+      which Fanny Burney had written all out of her own head!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The idea was simply astounding to the girls and to Fanny herself as well.
+      It meant fame, they were assured, and they were right. It took such a hold
+      upon Susy and Lottie as prevented them from giving any attention to
+      Fanny's amusing account of the evening at the Barlowes'; and the fun she
+      made&mdash;modelled on Mr. Garrick's best nursery style&mdash;of the
+      Alderman and Mrs. Alderman, with the speeches of the one and the St.
+      Giles's curtsies of the other, went for quite as little as did her
+      imitation of the bobbing of the crown feathers of the aunts and the
+      rustling of their dresses, the material of which was too expensive to be
+      manageable: the thick silk was, Fanny said, like a valuable horse,
+      impatient of control. She showed how it stood round them in massive folds
+      when they curtsied, refusing to respond to the many kicks they dealt it to
+      keep it in its place.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From the recalcitrant silks&mdash;with illustrations&mdash;Fanny had gone
+      to the slicing of the ham, the hacking at the great sirloin, the clatter
+      of the teacups, and the never-ending passing of plates and pickles, of
+      mustard and pepper and salt&mdash;the things were moving round the table
+      as the planets were shown circling round the sun in the clever invention
+      called the Orrery, after one of the titles of the Earl of Cork&mdash;only
+      the noise made by the perpetual handing on of the things did not suggest
+      the music of the spheres, Fanny said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her descriptions, bright though they were and full of apt metaphors, went
+      for nothing. Her sisters were too full of that wonderful thing which had
+      happened&mdash;the great Sir Joshua Reynolds, President of the Royal
+      Academy, the painter of all the most beautiful duchesses that were in the
+      world, to say nothing of beautiful ladies of less exalted rank&mdash;this
+      great man, who was so busy conferring immortality upon duchesses that he
+      was compelled to keep in his painting-room on Sundays as well as every
+      other day, and who had never been known to suspend his work except upon
+      the occasion of the death of his dear friend Dr. Goldsmith&mdash;this man
+      was actually at that very moment sitting in his arm-chair eagerly reading
+      the words which their sister Fanny had written!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The thought was too wonderful for them. The effect that it had on them was
+      to make them feel that they had two sisters in Fanny, the one a pleasant,
+      homely, hem-stitching girl, who could dance the Nancy Dawson jig for them
+      and take off all the people whom she met and thought worth taking off; the
+      other a grave authoress, capable of writing books that great men forsook
+      the society of other great men to read!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They looked on her now with something of awe in their eyes, and it was
+      this lens of awe which, while magnifying her work as a writer where it
+      came into their focus, made them fail to appreciate her fun, for they saw
+      it, as it were, through the edges of the lens and not through the centre.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She quickly perceived the lack of sympathy of her audience.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the matter with you both to-night?&rdquo; she cried&mdash;they were now
+      upstairs in her room, and she knew that at the same moment Mrs. Burney was
+      giving her husband an account of the party. &ldquo;What is the matter with you
+      both? Has anything happened when I was away to put you out? Why don't you
+      laugh as usual? I am sure I never told you anything half so funny as this,
+      and I was thinking all the way coming home that it would make you roar,
+      and now you sit gravely looking at me and not taking in half I say. Pray,
+      what is the matter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing is the matter, dear,&rdquo; said Lottie. &ldquo;Nothing&mdash;only I can't
+      help thinking that Sir Joshua is at this moment sitting eagerly reading
+      the book that you wrote&mdash;you, sister Fanny, that no one who comes to
+      us notices particularly. I can hardly bring myself to believe that there
+      is only one Fanny.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny looked at her strangely for some moments, and then said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not blame you, dear; for I am myself of the same way of thinking: I
+      cannot realize what the padre told us. I cannot think of myself as the
+      Fanny Burney whose book is keeping Sir Joshua out of his bed. That is why
+      I kept on harping like a fool on the single string of that odious party. I
+      feel that I must keep on talking, lest my poor brain should give way when
+      I sit down to think if I am really Fanny Burney, who was ever happiest
+      sitting unnoticed in a corner when people came to this house, or laughing
+      with you all up here. I cannot think how it would be possible for me to
+      write a book that could be read by such as Sir Joshua.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Better think nothing more about it,&rdquo; said Susy, who fancied she saw a
+      strange look in Fanny's eyes. &ldquo;What's the good of brooding over the
+      matter? There's nothing strange about Sir Joshua's reading the book: I
+      read it and I told you that it was so lovely everybody would want to read
+      it. Besides, Sir Joshua may only have mentioned it for want of a better
+      excuse to leave the club early; so you may not be so famous after all,
+      Fanny.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Susy's well-meant attempt to restore her threatened equilibrium was too
+      much for Fanny. But there was a considerable interval before her laughter
+      came. She put an arm about Susy, saying:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have spoken the truth, my dear sister. I have no right to give myself
+      airs until we find out exactly how we stand. But if Fanny Burney, the
+      dunce, should find out to-morrow that Sir Joshua has not really been kept
+      out of his bed in order to read 'Evelina' by Fanny Burney, the writer, the
+      first Fanny will feel dreadfully mortified.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One thing I can promise you,&rdquo; said Susy, &ldquo;and this is that Susannah
+      Burney will not be kept out of her bed any longer talking to Fanny Burney
+      about Fanny Burney's novel, whether Fanny Burney be mortified or not. We
+      shall know all about the matter when we go to the Reynolds's to-morrow. In
+      the meantime, I hope to have some hours of sleep, though I daresay that
+      Fanny Burney will lie awake as a proper authoress should do, thinking over
+      the exciting party in the Poultry and wondering how she will work in a
+      description of it in her next novel. Good-night, and pleasant dreams! Come
+      along, Lottie.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And Fanny Burney did just what her sister had predicted she would do. She
+      recalled some of the incidents of the tea-party in the Poultry, having
+      before her, not as she had in the hackney coach, the possibility of
+      describing them in a letter to Mr. Crisp, but of introducing them into a
+      new book.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Before she slept she had made up her mind to begin a new book; for she now
+      found it comparatively easy to believe that Sir Joshua was reading
+      &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; with great interest. At any rate, she would hear the next day
+      when she should go to the Reynolds's, whether Sir Joshua had read it, or
+      whether he had only made it an excuse for getting home early in the night,
+      so that he might arise early and refreshed to resume his painting of the
+      duchesses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the next evening, when, with her sisters and their stepmother she
+      tripped along the hundred yards or so of Leicester Fields that lay between
+      their house and that of Sir Joshua Reynolds, all thoughts of the book
+      which she had written and of the book which she meant to write, vanished
+      the moment that she was close enough to Sir Joshua's to hear, with any
+      measure of clearness, the nature of the singing, the sound of which fell
+      gently upon her ears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;H'sh!&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney, stopping a few feet from the door. &ldquo;H'sh! some
+      one is singing. I did not know that it was to be a musical party.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is Signor Rauzzini,&rdquo; said Lottie. &ldquo;I would know his voice anywhere. We
+      are lucky. There is no one who can sing like Signor Rauzzini.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We should have come earlier,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;But when Miss Reynolds
+      asked us she did not say a word about Rauzzini. And now we cannot ring the
+      bell, lest we should interrupt his song.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She stood there with the three girls, under the lighted windows of the
+      house, listening to the silvery notes of the young Roman that floated over
+      their heads, as if an angel were hovering there, filling their ears with
+      celestial music. (The simile was Susy's.) The music sounded celestial to
+      the ears of at least another of the group besides Susy; and that one
+      thought:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How can anyone trouble oneself with such insignificant matters as the
+      writing of books or the reading of books, when such a voice as that is
+      within hearing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And then, all at once, she was conscious of the merging of the two Fanny
+      Burneys into one, and of the existence of a new Fanny Burney altogether&mdash;the
+      Fanny Burney who was beloved by the celestial singer, and this was
+      certainly the most wonderful of the three.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The thought thrilled her, and she knew that with it the truth of life had
+      come to her: there was nothing worth anything in the world save only
+      loving and being loved.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And this truth remained with her when the song had come to an end, soaring
+      to a high note and dwelling on it for an enraptured space and then dying
+      away, so gradually that a listener scarcely knew when it had ceased.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny's imagination enabled her to hear, at the close, the drawing-in of
+      the breath of the people in the room where the song had been sung: she
+      knew that up to this point they had been listening breathlessly to every
+      note. She could hear the same soft inspiration&mdash;it sounded like a
+      sigh&mdash;by her sisters and their stepmother. A dozen wayfarers through
+      Leicester Fields had been attracted to-the house by the sound of the
+      singing, and now stood timidly about the doorway. They also had been
+      breathless. One woman murmured &ldquo;Beautiful!&rdquo; Fanny could understand how the
+      word had sprung to her lips, but what could the man mean, who, almost at
+      the same moment, said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, my God! how could I have been so great a fool?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She was startled, and glanced at him. He was a young man, shabbily
+      dressed, and on his face there were signs of dissipation. He was
+      unconscious of her glance for some moments, then with a slight start he
+      seemed to recover himself. He took off his hat with a respectful bow, and
+      then hurried away. But Fanny saw him turn when he had gone about a dozen
+      yards into the roadway, and take off his hat once more, with his eyes
+      looking up to the lighted windows of the house. He was saluting the singer
+      whom he had not seen, and to Fanny the act, following the words which he
+      had unwittingly uttered, was infinitely pathetic.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It appeared that Mrs. Burney herself received the same impression. Fanny
+      was surprised to hear her say:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor fellow! he was once a gentleman!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then they entered Sir Joshua's house and were shown upstairs to the great
+      painting-room, where Sir Joshua and his sister Frances were receiving
+      their guests.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was quite a small party&mdash;not more than a score of people
+      altogether, and all seemed to be acquainted with one another. Fanny knew
+      several of them; one girl, however, she had never seen before, but she
+      knew who she was in a moment. She was standing at one end of the room
+      chatting to Mrs. Sheridan, and on the wall just above her there hung the
+      picture of a girl in oriental costume and wearing a turban. Fanny Burney
+      had often looked at it in admiration, and Sir Joshua had encouraged her,
+      affirming that it was the best picture he had ever painted and that it
+      would remain in his painting-room until the day of his death. She looked
+      at it now with renewed interest, for the original was the girl standing
+      beneath it&mdash;the beautiful Miss Homeck whom Oliver Goldsmith had
+      called the Jessamy Bride. Several years had passed since Sir Joshua had
+      painted that portrait, from which Miss Burney had recognized the original;
+      and fifty years later another lady recognized the same face, still
+      beautiful in old age, from having seen merely a print of the same picture.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Fanny turned her eyes from the portrait it was to admire the features
+      of Mrs. Sheridan. Mrs. Sheridan was gazing somewhat pensively at the
+      picture of St. Cecilia which was hanging a little way from that of Miss
+      Horneck, and Fanny was near enough to her to perceive how her expression
+      grew into that of the face in the picture. At first sight, it did not
+      appear to Fanny that the two faces were the same, and it seemed as if Mrs.
+      Sheridan perceived this, and determined to vindicate Sir Joshua's skill by
+      assuming the pose of the picture. But Miss Burney knew that the beautiful
+      lady had done it unconsciously&mdash;that it was simply because she was
+      recalling the days when she had sat for the painter, and had obeyed his
+      injunction to lose herself among the simple chords of the aria that was
+      sacred to her since her sister died with the strain upon her lips&mdash;&ldquo;I
+      know that my Redeemer liveth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny gazed at the exquisite face, illuminated with what seemed to her to
+      be a divine light, and for the first time she knew something of what it
+      was to be a great painter. After &ldquo;St. Cecilia&rdquo; the other portraits on the
+      walls seemed paltry. There was no divine light in the faces of the
+      duchesses. There was life in them; they breathed and smiled and posed and
+      looked gracious, but looking at them one remained on earth and among
+      mortals. But St. Cecilia carried one into the glorious company of the
+      immortals. &ldquo;She drew an angel down,&rdquo; was the line that flashed through
+      Miss Burney's mind at that moment. An angel? A whole celestial company.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXV
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">Y</span>OU are looking at
+      her&mdash;I, too, have been looking at her; she is divine,&rdquo; came a voice
+      beside her. She did not need to turn to see the speaker. She had been
+      longing for the sound of his voice for many days. She had not even a
+      chance of hearing him sing before this evening.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is St. Cecilia herself,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;You have seen Sir Joshua's
+      picture?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My countryman, Piozzi, pointed it out to me,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;I was
+      enraptured with the picture. But when the living St. Cecilia entered the
+      room and I heard her story, I felt ready to throw myself at her feet and
+      implore her as the guardian of poor singers to take me to her care. Her
+      face has on it the bloom of a flower dropped fresh from the garden of God&mdash;angelic
+      beyond the voice of man to describe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He spoke, as usual, in French to Fanny, but he had greeted Mrs. Burney in
+      English, and he tried to translate his last phrase to her into the same
+      language. He failed after the first word or two, and begged Miss Burney to
+      complete his task for him. She did so, and her stepmother smiled and
+      nodded in appreciation of his comment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is indeed a beautiful creature,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;I heard her sing
+      more than once at Bath. People went mad about her beauty and her singing,
+      and truly I never heard any singing that so affected me. It was said that
+      she hated to let her voice be heard in public. Her father, Mr. Linley,
+      made her sing: she was a gold mine to Mr. Linley and he knew it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Signor Rauzzini had listened attentively and picked up all that she had
+      said without the aid of a word from Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But now she will never be heard again no more,&rdquo; said he in English. &ldquo;And
+      she is right in making such a resolution, and her husband is a noble man
+      to agree with her in this,&rdquo; he continued, but in French to Fanny. &ldquo;Picture
+      that lovely creature placing herself on the level of such a one as the
+      Agujari! sordid&mdash;vulgar&mdash;worldly! quarrelling daily with the <i>impresario</i>
+      on some miserable question of precedence&mdash;-holding out for the
+      largest salary&mdash;turning a gift which should be divine into gold! Oh;
+      she was right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Signor Rauzzini no doubt thinks it a pity that such a voice should cease
+      to give pleasure to the thousands it enchanted,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney, not
+      being able to follow him in French.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no, no; just the opposite,&rdquo; cried Fanny. &ldquo;He says he admires her the
+      more for her resolution.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am so glad. Pray tell him that I agree with him,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;A
+      good woman will avoid publicity. Her home should be sufficient for her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny did not need to translate the words, he grasped their meaning at
+      once.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I agree with all of my heart, madame,&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;I would not wish my
+      mother or my sister to have their names spoken with freedom by everyone
+      who paid a coin to hear them sing. I should think it&mdash;<i>come si
+      chiamo?</i>&mdash;Ah! forgive my poor English.&rdquo; He went off into French
+      once more&mdash;&ldquo;Pray tell madame that I think it would be odious to hear
+      the name of my mother or my sister tossed from man to man as they toss the
+      name of a woman who comes before the public. I think the woman who would
+      hide herself from all eyes as a violet hides itself under a leaf is the
+      true woman. The shy, timid, retiring one&mdash;I know her&mdash;I esteem
+      her. I could love no other. I have a deep respect for the woman of the
+      Orient who would die sooner than let her face be seen by a man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What does he say&mdash;I like his eagerness?&rdquo; asked Mrs. Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny translated some of his phrases, and Mrs. Burney nodded and smiled
+      her approval.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The bloom on the wing of a butterfly is a very tender thing,&rdquo; resumed the
+      Roman; &ldquo;the breath of a man is sufficient to remove it&mdash;a single
+      breath&mdash;and when the bloom has gone the charm of the beautiful
+      creature has gone also.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not sure that I like the comparison to the butterfly,&rdquo; said Fanny,
+      smiling. &ldquo;The butterfly is the emblem of all that is fickle&mdash;all that
+      is idle except for its yielding to its fickleness. It is beautiful, but
+      nothing else.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am rebuked,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;But with us the butterfly is the symbol of the
+      life&mdash;of the soul. Assume that and you will, I think, see that I
+      meant not to hint at the beauty of the frivolity, but at the beauty of the
+      soul. I feel that a woman's life has on it the bloom of a butterfly's
+      wing, and if that is once breathed on, its beauty is gone for ever&mdash;the
+      woman's life is never again what it was&mdash;what it was meant to be. But
+      if you wish, I will not go beyond the violet as my emblem of the best
+      woman&mdash;my woman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thank heaven that I have no voice,&rdquo; said Fanny gently, after a pause.
+      Young Mr. North-cote, Sir Joshua's pupil, had approached Mrs. Burney&mdash;his
+      eye was on Susy&mdash;in order to tell her that tea was being served in
+      the drawing-room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Burney thanked him and took the arm that he offered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We shall all go in together,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney, with a sign to Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Rauzzini contrived to evade her eye by renewing his admiration of the
+      &ldquo;St. Cecilia.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I could but reproduce in song the effect that flows from her face I
+      should be the greatest singer in the world,&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You need not envy her,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;Do you remember Mr. Handel's setting
+      of 'Alexander's Feast '?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only an aria or two.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One of the lines came into my mind just now when I looked at that
+      picture. 'She drew an angel down.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And it was very apt. She would draw an angel down.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; but the poet has another line before that one&mdash;it refers to a
+      singer&mdash;'He raised a mortal to the skies.' That was the line which
+      came to my mind when I heard you sing. You raise mortals to the skies.
+      Your power is equal to that of St. Cecilia.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, nay; that is what you have done. I have been uplifted to the highest
+      heaven by you. When you are near me I cannot see anything of the world.
+      Why have we not met more frequently? Ah, I forget&mdash;I am always
+      forgetting that the months you spoke of have not yet run out. But I am not
+      impatient, knowing that the prize will come to me in good time. I have
+      been away at the Bath and Salisbury and Bristol and I know not where,
+      singing, singing, singing, and now I go to Paris and Lyon for a few
+      months, but you may be certain that I shall return to England&mdash;then
+      the separating months shall have passed and you will welcome me&mdash;is
+      not that so?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think I can promise you&mdash;every day seems to make it more certain
+      that I shall welcome you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My angel&mdash;my dream!&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He said the words&mdash;both long-drawn monosyllables in French&mdash;in a
+      whisper that gave them the full force of passionate expression. He had
+      need to whisper, for several people were in the room, and Mr. Boswell was
+      among the number, and everyone knew that Mr. Boswell, as a gossip-monger,
+      had no equal in town. He was always pimping and prying&mdash;nosing out
+      germs of scandal&mdash;ever ready to make mischief by telling people all
+      the nasty things other people had said of them. Mr. Boswell had his eye on
+      them&mdash;and his ear. In addition, Mrs. Thrale, who had arrived late,
+      had no idea of allowing the handsome Roman singer to waste himself with a
+      nonentity like Miss Burney, and she was now perilously close to him whom
+      she came to rescue.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the whisper and the expression imparted to it were enough for Fanny
+      Burney. He might have talked for hours in his impassioned way without
+      achieving the effect of his whispered exclamations.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Mrs. Thrale hastened up to his side full of her resolution to rescue
+      him from the conversation with the insignificant person whom his good
+      nature suffered to engage his attention.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, what is this?&rdquo; cried the little lady who regarded herself with
+      complacency as the soul of tact. &ldquo;Have you explained to Signor Rauzzini
+      that you are the unmusical member of the family, Miss Burney?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I believe that he is aware of that fact already, madam,&rdquo; replied Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And yet he is in close converse with you? He is the most good-natured man
+      in town,&rdquo; said Mrs. Thrale. &ldquo;Does he hope to interest you when your father
+      failed?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He has never ceased, to interest me, madam,&rdquo; said Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then he did not talk about music?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes; I think he said something about music.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, touching a note here and there, as one might in passing a
+      harpsichord. Of course you could not have lived in Dr. Burney's house
+      without being able to understand something of music. But we must not
+      trespass upon Signor Rauzzin's courtesy, Miss Burney. Everyone is talking
+      of him in the drawing-room&mdash;he must gratify the company by mingling
+      with them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she addressed Rauzzini in French.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I promised to go in search of you, signor,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Madame Reynolds is
+      distracted. I came on my mission famished&mdash;I had vowed, as the
+      crusaders did, not to taste food or drink until I had succeeded in my
+      emprise. May I ask you to have pity on me now and lead me to the
+      tea-table?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned to ask Fanny to accompany them, but he found that she had
+      slipped quietly away. She was already at the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My duty was to Miss Burney, madame, but she has been frightened away,&rdquo;
+       said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, she is the shy one of the family, I believe,&rdquo; said Mrs. Thrale. &ldquo;I am
+      sure that all the time you were so good-natured as to talk to her she was
+      wishing that the floor would open and allow her to sink out of sight. She
+      would have thought it much more good-natured on your part if you had taken
+      no notice of her. I have scarcely spoken to her half a dozen times myself,
+      though I have frequently been to her father's house. I cannot rack my
+      brain to discover a congenial topic with such young people. Were you
+      successful, do you think?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He made a gesture with his hands that might mean anything. Mrs. Thrale
+      assumed that it meant nothing&mdash;that he felt he was not greatly
+      concerned whether he had been successful in finding a congenial topic of
+      converse with Miss Burney or not.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor girl!&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;She may have her dreams like other girls.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I believe she has&mdash;poor girl!&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;But I know that in her
+      knowledge of music she goes deeper&mdash;soars higher than most young
+      ladies who have submitted to lessons from a <i>maestro</i>&mdash;nay,
+      higher than the <i>maestro</i> himself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Thrale looked doubtfully at him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it possible that we are talking of two different people?&rdquo; said she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, that is quite possible,&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was referring to Miss Burney, the one of the family who does nothing
+      except sew&mdash;her mother commends her sewing very highly. I fear that
+      you actually believed that you were in converse with one of her sisters.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Madame,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;it is my belief that the one who sews in a family is
+      far more interesting than the one who sings. But Miss Burney need not, in
+      my eyes, be any more than Miss Burney to be interesting, though she has
+      taught me more of music than I ever learned before.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is't possible? Oh, yes: I should remember that her father told me that
+      she was his amanuensis&mdash;she made a neat copy of all his notes for the
+      'History of Music.' It is no wonder that she knows something about it.
+      Such a good daughter! And the father took no trouble about her education.
+      She did not know her letters till she was eight or nine, I believe&mdash;perhaps
+      twelve. I don't believe that I ever exchanged half a dozen words with her
+      before this evening; and as for men&mdash;you are the first man I ever saw
+      taking any notice of her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His face lit up strangely, Mrs. Thrale thought, at this revelation. He
+      gave a laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So much the better for her&mdash;so much the worse for the men,&rdquo; said he.
+      &ldquo;And now, madame, if the tea has not become too strong, and if your hunger
+      has not made you too weak to walk to the table, I should esteem it an
+      honour to conduct you thither.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Thrale smiled her acquiescence, and she entered the drawing-room on
+      the arm of the singer. Nothing could have convinced her that he did not
+      feel grateful to her for rescuing him from the position in which his good
+      nature had placed him&mdash;by the side of the most insignificant young
+      woman among all Sir Joshua's guests.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She believed that she was increasing his debt of gratitude to her by
+      keeping him with her for the next half-hour. Her sense of protecting him
+      gave her naturally a sense of patronage, which was quite pleasant for her
+      to experience, especially when she glanced round the room and saw several
+      ladies of higher rank than she could pretend to, frowning in her
+      direction. She knew how Signor Rauzzini was pestered by the attentions of
+      such as these, and she could almost hear the well-bred sneers of her
+      friends as they glanced at her and wondered if she never meant to release
+      the unfortunate young man&mdash;she knew just what they would say, and she
+      accepted their imaginary words as a real compliment to her protective
+      powers. Her smile down the table was one of great complacency.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She also noticed that the insignificant Miss Burney was glowing as she had
+      never seen her glow before. Her face was rosy and her eyes were actually
+      sparkling. Mrs. Thrale had never imagined that such eyes as Miss Burney's
+      could sparkle, no matter what their provocation might be.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor girl! Poor child! Her head is turned, as I feared it would be when I
+      saw the Rauzzini with her. She is the unhappy victim of his good nature.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was the conclusion come to by the little lady whose ability to
+      pronounce an opinion on such a matter was widely acknowledged; and coming
+      to such a conclusion, she naturally commended all the more heartily the
+      step which she had taken for separating the foolish girl and the
+      fascinating young man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She would have waved aside any suggestion that might be made to her to the
+      effect that the increase in Miss Burney's colouring and the light in her
+      eyes was due to Miss Burney's overhearing the conversation between her
+      mother and Sir Joshua respecting a book which he had stayed up all night
+      to read and which he had just finished in time to receive his guests.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The name of the book was &ldquo;Evelina; or, a Young Lady's Entrance into the
+      World,&rdquo; he said, and he was urging Mrs. Burney to follow his example and
+      read it without further delay.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXVI
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>ANNY was at her
+      stepmother's elbow while Sir Joshua gave her a full account of how he had
+      been induced to send to Lowndes for this wonderful book on the
+      recommendation of Mrs. Darner, whose portrait he was painting. Mrs. Darner
+      had excused her unpunctuality at one of her sittings on the ground that
+      she had become so interested in the fortunes of &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; that she could
+      not put the book down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Get it for yourself, sir,&rdquo; she had said, &ldquo;and you will quickly
+      acknowledge that my excuse is valid.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I did not get it then,&rdquo; said Sir Joshua. &ldquo;I find it impossible
+      to keep pace with the useful books that are printed in these days, and I
+      have long ago given up novels. But when, the next day, Mrs. Darner came to
+      sit to me with a woebegone countenance and the traces of tears on her
+      cheeks, so that I could only paint her draping, and that, too, had a
+      woeful droop in its folds&mdash;for let me tell you, madam, that a woman's
+      dress is usually in sympathy with the mood of the wearer&mdash;when, I
+      say, the lady entered my painting-room in this guise, I ventured to
+      inquire if she was serious in her wish that I should depict her in the
+      character of Niobe. 'Oh, sir,' she cried, ''tis all due to that horrid
+      Branghton&mdash;he it is that has brought me to this.' 'The wretch!' said
+      I. 'Have you no friend who will run him through the vitals? Where is he to
+      be found, that I may arrange for his destruction?' 'He is the persecutor
+      of my beloved Evelina,' she replied, 'and heaven only knows what is to
+      become of the poor girl.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, madam, when I had thus brought before me the effect that the book
+      had produced upon so natural a lady as Mrs. Darner, what was left for me
+      but to buy it? And now you see the effect that it has had upon me,&rdquo;
+       continued Sir Joshua, &ldquo;so you must e'en buy it also.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, Sir Joshua,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney, &ldquo;your case has furnished me with the
+      strongest of reasons for not buying it. I would not allow a book into my
+      house that would so turn me aside from my ordinary life and my daily
+      business. What, sir, would you have me stay out of my comfortable bed for
+      hours, in order that I might make myself more uncomfortable still by
+      reading of the imaginary woes of a young woman who is nothing to me but a
+      shadow?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I promise you that you will find Evelina far from being a shadow,&rdquo;
+       said Sir Joshua. &ldquo;She is a creature of flesh and blood, with a heart that
+      beats so that you find your own heart keeping time with it, whether it
+      pulsates slowly or fast. In short, Evelina lives. I have no patience with
+      those attenuated figures that dance on the stage of so many of our new
+      novel writers; I can see the stuffing of straw when their constant
+      gyrating has worked a rip in their seamy side; creatures of rag and wire&mdash;they
+      never deceive one for a moment&mdash;why, their very gyrations are not
+      true to life. But Evelina lives. Some of the characters in the book are
+      distasteful&mdash;some of them are vulgar, but the world is made up of
+      distasteful and vulgar people, and a novel should be true to the world in
+      which the characters are placed. Oh, that was where the greatness of poor
+      Dr. Goldsmith was to be found. He would abate nothing of the vulgarity of
+      the vulgar characters in his plays, because he meant them to live. The
+      people hissed his vulgar bailiffs in his <i>Good-Natured Man</i>, and when
+      Colman cut them out he himself restored them when Shuter played the piece
+      for his benefit the following year, and everyone saw that they were true
+      to life. The vulgarity of Tony Lumpkin and the Three Pigeons made Walpole
+      shudder, but there they remain in the best comedy of our time, and there
+      they will remain for ever. Oh, yes; the author of 'Evelina' knows what
+      life is, and so his book will live.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And who is the author of this surprising book?&rdquo; asked Mrs. Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is a mystery,&rdquo; replied Reynolds. &ldquo;I sent to Lowndes, the bookseller,
+      to inquire, and he pretended that he did not know. He could only say that
+      he was a gentleman of note living in Westminster.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, that is one of the booksellers' tricks to make their wares seem more
+      attractive,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;They know that a man in a mask awakens curiosity.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is so; but 'Evelina' stands in need of no advertisement of such a
+      nature. It would attract attention even though the name of Mr. Kenrick
+      were attached to it. But everyone is dying to find out the name of the
+      author; Mrs. Darner believes it to have been written by Horace Walpole,
+      but only because 'The Castle of Otranto' was published without his name
+      being on the title page.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a very cogent line of argument, it seems to me,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney.
+      &ldquo;Well, Sir Joshua, I hope you will enjoy a comfortable sleep to-night, now
+      that you have the fortunes of that young lady off your mind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, my dear madam, I do assure you that my mind is not yet free from the
+      effects of reading that book,&rdquo; cried Reynolds. &ldquo;I am more faithful to my
+      friends in some books than to forget all about them when I lay them on the
+      shelf. If they live, be assured that I live with them, and the thought of
+      them is to me at times as pleasant as the thought of the best friends I
+      have met in my daily life. I have laid 'Evelina' on a shelf in my memory&mdash;not
+      one of the back shelves, but one that is near to me, so that I can console
+      myself with her companionship when I am lonely.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have never heard you praise a book so heartily, sir,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney.
+      &ldquo;But I will beg of you not to mention it to any of my family, for if it
+      has so unhinged you, what would it not do to those poor girls?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He did not catch all she had said, for she spoke in a voice which she did
+      not mean to travel to Fanny or Susy, who were chatting to Miss Theophila
+      Palmer, Sir Joshua's niece.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may depend on my telling them all I find out in regard to the
+      author,&rdquo; said he in a tone of assent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no,&rdquo; she cried, getting nearer to the bell of his trumpet. &ldquo;No, no; I
+      want you to refrain from mentioning the book to them. I discourage all
+      novel reading, excepting, of course, the works of Mr. Richardson, and
+      perhaps one or two of Fielding, with some of the pages gummed together to
+      prevent them from being read.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, to tempt people to read them,&rdquo; said Reynolds. &ldquo;What were we saying
+      about the attractions of a mask? Well, my word for it, the attractions of
+      a book without a name are as nothing compared with the attraction of
+      gummed pages. But you will let them read 'Evelina,' and you will,
+      moreover, read it yourself&mdash;yes, and you will all be the better and
+      not the worse for doing so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Burney shook her head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was no wonder that Mrs. Thrale thought that Miss Burney looked flushed
+      at this time, or that there was an unwonted sparkle in her eyes; for she
+      had heard nearly every word that Sir Joshua had said, and she could
+      scarcely contain herself for delight. For all her primness, she was at
+      heart a merry schoolgirl, ready to break into a dance at good news, and to
+      shout for joy when things had advanced as she had hoped they would. She
+      felt that it was very hard on her that she could not throw her hat up to
+      the ceiling of the room, as she had heard of Dr. Goldsmith's doing with
+      his wig in the exuberance of his spirits in this same room&mdash;when Miss
+      Reynolds was in her bed upstairs. It was very hard on her to be compelled
+      to restrain her feelings; she was unconscious of the sparkle in her eyes,
+      or of the pæony flush of her cheeks that Mrs. Thrale had noticed and was
+      still noticing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had never felt so happy in all her life. A short time before she had
+      felt that everything in the world was insignificant in comparison with
+      love; but now she realized that there was another joy worthy of
+      recognition. She was not wise enough to perceive that the two emotions
+      sprang from the same source&mdash;that the foundation of love is the
+      impulse to create, and that the foundation of an artist's joy in fame is
+      the knowledge that what he has created is recognized by the world. She was
+      (fortunately) not wise enough to be able to analyse her feelings&mdash;to
+      be wise enough to analyse one's feelings is to be incapable of feeling.
+      All that she was conscious of at that moment was that all worth having in
+      the world was hers&mdash;the instinct to create, which men call Love, the
+      joy of obtaining recognition for the thing created, which men call Fame.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was no wonder that Mrs. Thrale saw that light in her face and in her
+      eyes; nor was it strange that the same observant lady should attribute
+      that illumination to the touch of the fire of the sacred torch. She looked
+      at the handsome face of the Roman youth, with its expression of frankness,
+      and at his eyes, full of the generous warmth of the South, and once more
+      she glanced at Miss Burney, and saw in her face the reflection of the
+      southern sunny glow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor girl&mdash;poor girl!&rdquo; were the words that sprung to her lips. &ldquo;Only
+      a moment's attention from him&mdash;only a word&mdash;nay, a glance from
+      those eyes would have been enough&mdash;and she is at his feet. Poor girl!
+      Knowing nothing of the world&mdash;incapable of understanding anything of
+      life&mdash;having no gift to attract attention&mdash;-&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear Mrs. Thrale, I have come to you for help. You are sure to have read
+      this book that everyone is talking about&mdash;this 'Evelina'&mdash;and
+      you can, I am certain, tell us who is the author. Pray let us know if your
+      friend Dr. Johnson had a finger in it&mdash;I have heard that some of the
+      writing is in the style of Dr. Johnson&mdash;or was it Mr. Anstey&mdash;they
+      say that some chapters could only have come from the author of 'The Bath
+      Guide.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was Lady Hales who had hurried up with her inquiries. She seemed to be
+      the representative of a group with whom she had been standing, several
+      ladies and two or three men.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It so happened, however, that Mrs. Thrale had not yet read the book around
+      which discussion had been buzzing; but she had no intention of
+      acknowledging that, with her literary tastes and with her friendship for
+      Dr. Johnson, she was behind the times. Two or three people had within the
+      week made remarks about &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; in her presence, but she had no idea
+      that it was to become a topic of society.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She smiled enigmatically, to give herself time to make up her mind what
+      her reply should be&mdash;whatever it might be, it certainly would not be
+      a confession of ignorance. She came to the conclusion that on the whole
+      she could not do better than mould her answer so as to heighten the
+      mystery of the authorship.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it possible that none of our friends have discovered the author?&rdquo; she
+      asked, still smiling shrewdly, so as to suggest that she herself had long
+      ago been let into the secret.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We have had many conjectures,&rdquo; said Lady Hales. &ldquo;And let me whisper in
+      your ear&mdash;there is one among us who is ready to affirm that the
+      address of the author is Thrale Hall, Streatham.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I vow that I am overwhelmed,&rdquo; cried the little lady. &ldquo;The compliment is
+      one that any writer might envy. Pray how could it enter the mind of any of
+      our friends to connect me with the authorship of such a book?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There are some touches of your style in many of the letters of Evelina,&rdquo;
+       replied Lady Hales. &ldquo;And some have said that only you could have had the
+      varied experiences described so vividly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A marvellous book, truly, this 'Evelina,'&rdquo; cried Mrs. Thrale. &ldquo;Some
+      people, you say, recognize the hand of Dr. Johnson in its pages, others
+      the pen that wrote 'The Bath Guide,' and now it is suggested that the
+      whole was the work of a humble scribbler named Mrs. Thrale&mdash;a person
+      who has surely little in common with the two writers you have named.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She took care that her affectation of surprise had an artificial note
+      about it. There was no knowing how things might turn out. Mrs. Thrale had
+      no objection in the world to have her name associated with the authorship
+      of a book about which it was clear a good many people would be talking for
+      some months to come.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May I not be entrusted with something more definite?&rdquo; asked Lady Hales in
+      a low voice. &ldquo;If it is a secret for the present&mdash;well, you know that
+      I am one to be trusted.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can assure you definitely that the book was not written by Dr.
+      Johnson,&rdquo; replied Mrs. Thrale, with a smile. &ldquo;He has not for a single week
+      during the past year failed to visit us at Streatham for at least four
+      days at a time. He reads to me all that he writes&mdash;it is not much&mdash;and
+      I can give you an assurance that the name of Evelina has not once appeared
+      in his manuscript. I may also say that if you take my advice you will not
+      be in too great haste to attribute the book to Mr. Anstey.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was not mystification, it sounded much more like revelation, Lady
+      Hales thought.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I dare not press you further, madam,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Believe me, I can appreciate your reticence, if&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, now you suggest that I have told you a secret that I have concealed
+      from everyone else, and that is going too far,&rdquo; cried Mrs. Thrale. &ldquo;Now,
+      dear madam, cannot you see that even if I were in the secret of the
+      authorship, I should be guilty of a great breach of courtesy were I to
+      reveal it to anyone? If an author choose to remain anonymous, is it not
+      discourteous to try to snatch away his&mdash;or her&mdash;veil of
+      anonymity?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can but assent,&rdquo; said Lady Hales. &ldquo;I do not doubt that this view of the
+      matter is the correct one. At any rate, you may depend on my acting in
+      accordance with it. I shall make no further attempt to pry into the
+      secret, and I shall think it right to dissuade my friends from the quest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In that I am sure you will be acting in accordance with the author's
+      wishes,&rdquo; said Mrs. Thrale, smiling knowingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXVII
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>O they parted; and
+      Lady Hales hastened back to her friends to whisper in their ears that the
+      mystery was as good as solved: Mrs. Thrale had as much as acknowledged
+      that she was the author of &ldquo;Evelina,&rdquo; but she hoped that, as she had
+      written the book without the knowledge of her husband, her friends would
+      respect her desire to remain anonymous.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Thrale, being a Member of Parliament, would not like to have the name
+      of his wife bandied about among ordinary people as that of the writer of a
+      novel,&rdquo; Lady Hales explained, though really no explanation was needed of a
+      fact that could be appreciated by every sensible person aware of the
+      contemptible character of the novels of the day. &ldquo;Only Dr. Johnson is in
+      the secret,&rdquo; she continued. &ldquo;Dr. Johnson, as we all know, lives at Thrale
+      Hall for five days out of every week, finding the table provided by Mrs.
+      Thrale to suit his palate very much better than that controlled by poor
+      blind Mrs. Williams at Bolt Court.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That may account for some of the touches in the book in the style of Dr.
+      Johnson,&rdquo; said one of the ladies. &ldquo;You may be sure that no book could be
+      written under the same roof as Dr. Johnson without his having something to
+      say to it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never could understand how so fastidious a lady as Mrs. Thrale could
+      tolerate the company of Dr. Johnson at her table, but now the secret is
+      out&mdash;this secret and t'other,&rdquo; said one of the gentlemen. &ldquo;Dr.
+      Johnson is not seen at his best at the dinner-table.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So far as that goes, neither is Mr. Thrale himself,&rdquo; said another. &ldquo;He
+      has a huge appetite.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I had an inkling all along that Mrs. Thrale wrote the book,&rdquo; said a lady
+      with a huge hat. &ldquo;I actually remarked to my sister, while I was reading
+      it, 'if this story is not written by Mrs. Thrale, Mrs. Thrale is the one
+      who would like to have written it.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But mind, not a word must be breathed that would hint that she
+      acknowledged it to me by direct word of mouth,&rdquo; cried Lady Hales,
+      beginning to have some qualms. &ldquo;No; you must understand clearly that she
+      did not say in so many words that she wrote it. Indeed, her last words to
+      me were, that anyone who should name in public the author of a book
+      published anonymously would be guilty of a great discourtesy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is perfectly right: to do so would be to exhibit very bad taste
+      truly,&rdquo; came more than one acquiescent voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And the result of their complete agreement on this point was the immediate
+      dissemination of the report that Mrs. Thrale was indeed the writer of
+      &ldquo;Evelina.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But that clever little lady, on getting rid of the questioner, found that
+      Signor Rauzzini had slipped away from her side and was now making his
+      adieux to Mrs. Burney and her stepdaughters. She noticed that the light
+      had gone out of Fanny Burney's eyes as the young singer bent over her
+      hand, and once again she shook her head. She had given more attention to
+      Miss Burney during the previous hour than during all the years she had
+      visited at St. Martin's Street. She thought that it might be her duty to
+      say a word of warning to the young woman, who could not possibly know
+      anything about the world or the deceitfulness of Italian vocalists.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meantime, however, she ordered one of her three footmen to tell the
+      coachman to drive to the shop of Lowndes, the bookseller, and there she
+      purchased a bound copy of &ldquo;Evelina,&rdquo; at nine shillings.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Thrale was, of course, well known to Mr. Lowndes, and seeing her,
+      through the window of his office, enter his shop, he put his quill behind
+      his ear and emerged, bowing and smiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How was it that you failed to apprise me that you had printed 'Evelina
+      '?&rdquo; she inquired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is't possible that you did not receive my advertisement, madam?&rdquo; he
+      cried. &ldquo;Why, I posted it to you with my own hands even before the book had
+      left the press, the truth being that I was anxious to get your opinion
+      respecting it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never had any advertisement from you about it,&rdquo; she replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I was to blame for not underlining the announcement, madam,&rdquo; said he.
+      &ldquo;I ask your pardon. How were you to know that it was not one of the usual
+      novels of the season?&mdash;I do not venture to recommend such to the
+      attention of ladies of superior tastes like yourself, madam. I shall not
+      forgive myself, rest assured. But I am punished, in that I have been
+      unable to sell a second edition by telling my customers how highly it was
+      esteemed by Mrs. Thrale.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You assume that it would be highly esteemed by me, Mr. Lowndes; but I am
+      not quite sure that you do not flatter yourself in believing that my
+      judgment would be the same as that of the public. The poor public! How can
+      they possibly know whether a book is good or bad?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They cannot, madam; that is why we poor booksellers must only trust to
+      sell our books on the recommendation of ladies of taste and judgment. May
+      I beg, madam, that you will favour me with your opinion respecting the
+      merits of 'Evelina'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It has been so great a success that I fear I shall not think highly of
+      it. Pray, who is your modest author?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Positively, madam, I am unable to tell you. The MS. was brought to me
+      with a letter purporting to come from a Mr. Grafton at the Orange Coffee
+      House, near the Haymarket, and he desired the secret of its authorship to
+      be kept close.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, yes; to be sure&mdash;kept close from the vulgar public; but he could
+      never think that you were violating his confidence by telling me his
+      name.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He could not be so unreasonable, madam&mdash;nay, rather would he kneel
+      to you&mdash;for he could scarce fail to understand the value that we set
+      on&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not convinced either that he would benefit from the exchange of
+      confidence or that I should; but prithee, sir, what is his name?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Fore heaven, madam, I have told you so much as is known by me respecting
+      the gentleman. Never before have I been placed in so remarkable a
+      position. My fault, Mrs. Thrale, no doubt: I should have taken precautions
+      against being thus surprised into publishing a book without knowing the
+      name of the author. But although my judgment enabled me to perceive that
+      the work was out of the common, yet I never counted on its merits being
+      recognized so speedily. May I beg of you to favour me with your opinion as
+      to who the writer may be, madam&mdash;that is, when you have read it,
+      unless, indeed&mdash;&rdquo; he glanced at her shrewdly with a little knowing
+      smile&mdash; &ldquo;unless, indeed, you could so favour me <i>instanter</i>.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, Mr. Lowndes, how would it be possible for me to give you an opinion
+      as to the authorship of a book which I have not yet read? I am not one of
+      those astute critics who, they say, can tell you all there is to be known
+      about a book without cutting the leaves, or even&mdash;if you slip a
+      guinea into their hand&mdash;without opening the covers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought that perhaps you might be one of those who have been let into
+      the secret, madam. I trust that Dr. Johnson's health has not been so bad
+      as to prevent him from doing any literary work. Ah, what does not that
+      great man&mdash;nay, what does not the world owe to you, Mrs. Thrale?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you would suggest, Mr. Lowndes, that the book about which we have been
+      conversing was written, even in part, by Dr. Johnson, I can give you an
+      assurance that such is not the case. He is in no way inclined to engage in
+      any form of literary labour. He grudges his friends even a note.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There are some gentlemen who come hither and honour me by conversing on
+      the subject of letters, and more than one of them has pointed out passages
+      in 'Evelina' that show signs of the great Doctor's pen; but for that
+      matter&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I agree with you, sir; every scribbler in Grub Street apes the style of
+      Dr. Johnson, but only to reveal the ape in himself. Now, Mr. Lowndes, if
+      you really are in earnest in saying that you are unaware who is the author
+      of your book, I have done you some service in curtailing by one the list
+      of authors to whom it might possibly be attributed. You may strike out the
+      name of Johnson, sir, on my authority.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall certainly do so, madam&mdash;not that I, for my own part, was
+      ever foolish enough to fancy that he had written more of it than a page or
+      two. I am indebted to you, Mrs. Thrale.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then if you would wish to pay off the debt, you can do so by informing me
+      of your success in discovering the writer. 'Tis quite impossible to
+      conceive of the man's remaining unrevealed for any length of time, and I
+      confess that I am anxious to know if he is among my acquaintance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You assume the sex, madam.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, have you a doubt of it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There are so many literary ladies nowadays, Mrs. Thrale.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you surely saw the handwriting of the script?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is just the point. My printers have examined it and say that it is a
+      lady's caligraphy only disguised to look like a man's. In my own judgment
+      they are right. It is an upright hand, neat and clear&mdash;not in the
+      least like that of an author. Still, that counts but little, seeing that
+      the writer of the book would be pretty certain to have a clear copy made
+      of his script by someone else. I have had a suspicion, from the mystery
+      insisted on by this Mr. Grafton, that he is none other than the author of
+      the 'Castle of Otranto.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, Mr. Walpole?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Even so. You recollect how delighted he was to conceal the hand he had in
+      that book&mdash;going much farther than I thought any gentleman would in
+      honour go, to make people believe it was what it pretended to be?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Lowndes, I know not what your experience has been; but mine is that
+      when a gentleman becomes an author he lays aside whatever sense of honour
+      he possesses as a gentleman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have had little to do with gentlemen authors, madam. Most of my writers
+      are simply authors.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And Mr. Walpole very properly put himself in line with them, and so had
+      no hesitation in carrying out his fraud in 'Otranto.' Well, if it be so,
+      you may count on his revealing himself now that the book has become a
+      success. In any case, you will not forget to keep me informed, and I shall
+      esteem it a favour, Mr. Lowndes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Lowndes renewed his promise and bowed the lady to the door. The three
+      volumes of &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; had been brought out to the chariot by one of the
+      footmen, a second following in his footsteps to see that he deposited them
+      fairly upon one of the cushions, and a third standing by the open door in
+      case of the breakdown of either of the others.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Thrale got into the splendid machine, the three lackeys swung
+      themselves up on their platform behind, and clung on to the heavy straps,
+      looking, in their brilliant livery, as the chariot lurched away over the
+      uneven cobble-stones, like mighty butterflies of a tropical forest swaying
+      together on the rim of a gigantic flower.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXVIII
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>O chance had
+      Rauzzini of saying more than the most conventional words of farewell to
+      Fanny. Mrs. Burney was beside her and her two sisters also. He yielded to
+      his impulse to pronounce a malediction on Mrs. Thrale, who had so
+      interrupted his conversation with Fanny&mdash;the last he could possibly
+      have until his return from France after fulfilling his engagements. But
+      this was when he had seen the Burney family out of the door of the house
+      in Leicester Fields and to the entrance to St. Martin's Street. He was
+      then alone, and could give in some measure expression to his feelings in
+      his own tongue.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His imagination was quite vivid enough to suggest to him all that the
+      officiousness of Mrs. Thrale had interrupted&mdash;the exchange of vows&mdash;the
+      whispered assurances of fidelity&mdash;perhaps a passionate kiss&mdash;a
+      heaven-sent chance during a marvellous minute when the painting-room
+      should be emptied of all but herself and him! It was distracting to think
+      of all that had been cut out of his life by that busybody. While he had
+      been talking alone with Fanny his eyes had taken in the splendid
+      possibilities of the painting-room. There were three immense easels on
+      different parts of the floor, and each carried a glorious canvas for a
+      life-size portrait. Two of them were already finished, and the third
+      contained a portion of the Greek altar at which a fair lady was to be
+      depicted making her oblation to Aphrodite, or perhaps Artemis. The young
+      man, however, did not give a thought to the glowing work of the great
+      painter on the canvases, he thought only of the possibilities of a moment
+      or two spent in the protecting shadow of one of them with that gentle,
+      loving girl yielding herself to his clasp&mdash;only for a moment&mdash;he
+      could not reasonably hope that it should be for longer than a single
+      moment, but what raptures might not be embraced even within that brief
+      space! A moment&mdash;one immortal moment worth years of life! That was
+      what he saw awaiting him in the friendly shade of one of Sir Joshua's
+      portraits&mdash;that was all that the sublime picture meant to the ardent
+      lover&mdash;it was not the immortal picture, but the immortal moment that
+      was before his eyes&mdash;but just when, by a little manoeuvring on his
+      part, the joy that should change all his life and console him for being
+      deprived of the society of his beloved for three months, was within his
+      reach, that foolish woman had come bustling up with her chatter and had
+      separated them!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For which he now implored heaven and a heathen deity or two that still
+      linger in the language of malediction in their native Italy, to send her
+      soul to the region where Orpheus had sought his Eurydice. Down&mdash;down
+      with her to the lowest depths of the Inferno he implored his patrons to
+      bear her and to keep her there for ever.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His imploration was quite as lyrical as his &ldquo;Waft her, Angels, to the
+      Skies,&rdquo; only its bearing was upon the fate of the lady in just the
+      opposite direction, and he was even more fervent in its delivery. But
+      having delivered it, he felt some of that relief which is experienced by a
+      true artist who has a consciousness of having done some measure of justice
+      to his theme. He felt that if beatitude had been denied to him, the one
+      who had separated him from it would not escape scathless, if the intensity
+      of an appeal to the high gods of his native land counted for anything in
+      their estimation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then he went more or less contentedly to his lodgings to prepare for
+      his appearance in the opera of the night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He sang divinely as an angel, and again if any of his audience remained
+      unmoved by the enchantment of his voice, they certainly could not but have
+      yielded to the charm of his presence. Some women might be incapable of
+      appreciating the exquisite character of his vocalism, but none could
+      remain impervious to the appeal of his smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As for the girl who alone had appealed to his heart, she went home with
+      her mother and sisters without a word, for she had not perceived the
+      glorious possibilities lurking behind the grand canvases in Sir Joshua's
+      painting-room. She could even bring herself to believe that the coming of
+      Mrs. Thrale had been rather opportune than otherwise; for if she had not
+      joined her stepmother at that time she would not have heard all that Sir
+      Joshua had said about &ldquo;Evelina.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      All that she had heard had made her supremely happy, not, she thought,
+      because she was greedy for fame, but because it meant to her that she was
+      a step nearer to the arms of the man she loved. The fame which Sir
+      Joshua's words implied was dear to her because she knew that she need not
+      now hesitate to seat herself by the side of this king of men, as his equal&mdash;no,
+      not quite as his equal, but certainly not as a beggar maid. She knew that
+      when it was announced that she was the writer of a great book, or, what
+      was better still, a book that everybody was talking about, people would
+      not shrug their shoulders when they heard that Rauzzini> the Roman singer,
+      whose name was in everybody's mouth, was about to marry her. The event
+      that she scarcely dared hope for had actually happened: she was no longer
+      the nobody which she had been, she was a woman the product of whose brain
+      had been acclaimed by the best judges, and so the barrier that she had
+      seen separating her lover from herself had been thrown down. The same
+      voices that had acclaimed her Rauzzini as a singer had acclaimed her as a
+      writer; for though she had hesitated to receive her cousin Edward's
+      reports from the libraries as conclusive of the mark that the book was
+      making, she could not now have any doubt on the subject: a book that was
+      spoken of by Sir Joshua Reynolds as he had spoken of &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; must be
+      granted a place high above the usual volumes to be found on the shelves of
+      a circulating library. She was convinced that in a short time everyone
+      would be talking about it in the same strain, and though people might be
+      incredible on the subject of its authorship, the fact would remain the
+      same&mdash;she had written the book, and the fame that attached to the
+      writer would assuredly be hers. There would now be no sneering references
+      to King Cophetua. Everyone within their circle would admit that there was
+      no disparity between her position as the writer of the book that everyone
+      was talking about and that of the singer whom people crowded to hear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She felt supremely happy. Though Mrs. Burney had not shown any particular
+      wish to repeat what Reynolds had said to her about the book, she knew
+      perfectly well that this was only because of her general distrust of
+      anything in the form of a novel, and her fear lest something unreadable
+      should get into the hands of the girls. But Fanny also knew that the fact
+      of Mrs. Burney's shunning the novels of the circulating libraries would
+      not interfere with the reputation that must accrue to the author of
+      &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo;; so she was not affected by the indifference shown by her
+      stepmother to all that Reynolds had said. She awaited without impatience
+      the day when her father should take up the book and read the Ode at the
+      beginning. She felt that, although his name was not at the head, he would
+      know that the verses were addressed to him, and that it was his daughter
+      Fanny who had written them. She knew that however firmly he might assert
+      himself on the side of his wife in preventing the entrance to the house of
+      all novels excepting those of Richardson&mdash;Fanny herself had never had
+      a chance of reading even &ldquo;The Vicar of Wakefield&rdquo;&mdash;he would be proud
+      of her as the writer of &ldquo;Evelina.&rdquo; She was not quite sure if he would be
+      as proud of her as if she had developed a wonderful musical capacity; but
+      she never doubted that his affection for her&mdash;assisted by his
+      knowledge of the impression the book had made upon the most important of
+      his own associates&mdash;would cause him to take her into his arms with
+      delight and to forgive her for running the chance of being classed among
+      the Miss Minifies of the period&mdash;the female writers whose ridiculous
+      productions were hidden beneath the sofa cushions in so many households.
+      Fanny Burney was a dutiful daughter and she had nothing of the cynic about
+      her, but she was well aware of the fact that success would be regarded by
+      her father as justifying an experiment that failure would have made
+      discreditable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Once more, then, the three sisters met that night in Fanny's bedroom. The
+      two younger could now look on her without their feeling of awe. They were
+      on the verge of being indignant with Mrs. Burney for having made no
+      reference whatever since returning from the Reynoldses to the subject of
+      Sir Joshua's eulogy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not once did she mention the name of 'Evelina' to the padre; Sir Joshua
+      might just as well have talked of Miss Herschel's comet to her,&rdquo; said
+      Susy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And after our schooling ourselves so rigidly to give no sign that we were
+      in any measure connected with the book too&mdash;it was cruel!&rdquo; said
+      Lottie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was not as if the padre did not give her a good chance more than
+      once,&rdquo; continued Susy. &ldquo;Did he not ask if anyone had given her any news?
+      And what did she answer?&mdash;Why, only that someone had said that Mr.
+      Fox had lost a fortune a few nights ago at faro! As if anybody cares about
+      Mr. Fox! I was prepared for her opening out at once to him about the book&mdash;maybe
+      begging him to send Williams to buy it at Mr. Lowndes'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, at seven-and-sixpence!&rdquo; cried Fanny. &ldquo;My dear child, do you know
+      mamma no better than to fancy that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What I don't know is how she resisted it,&rdquo; said Lottie. &ldquo;Oh, you heard
+      how Sir Joshua talked about it; and Miss Reynolds too&mdash;she praised it
+      up to the skies.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Other people in the painting-room as well as in the drawing-room were
+      talking of it,&rdquo; said Susy. &ldquo;I heard the beautiful Miss Horneck speak of it
+      to the lady with the big muff and the rose taffeta with the forget-me-not
+      embroidery.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sure that everybody was speaking of it&mdash;I could hear the name
+      'Evelina' buzzing round the rooms,&rdquo; cried Lottie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; everyone was talking about it, and only mamma was silent&mdash;<i>is</i>
+      silent. I don't think that at all fair,&rdquo; continued Susy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are silly little geese,&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;Could you not see that she would
+      not mention it lest it should reach our ears and we should be filled with
+      an <i>irresistible</i> desire to possess it&mdash;<i>it</i>&mdash;a modern
+      novel! Think of it! Oh, my dears, you are too unreasonable, Mamma knows
+      her duty too well to allow even the name of a novel to pass her lips and
+      maybe reach the ears of such a group of fly-away young things as
+      ourselves! She understands the extent of her responsibilities. Go to your
+      beds and be thankful that you have so excellent a guardian.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But when we were prepared&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; began one of them, when Fanny
+      interrupted her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may conserve your preparations&mdash;you will hear her say the name
+      soon enough&mdash;you may depend upon that,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;You may prepare to
+      hear yourselves summoned into her presence to give a full and true account
+      of your complicity in the thing which was perpetrated under this sacred
+      roof&mdash;nay, in the very room where the great philosopher Newton wrote
+      his thesis! A novel written in the room in which the divine 'Principia'
+      was produced! Why, 'twere as bad in mamma's eyes as acting one of Mr.
+      Foote's farces in St. Paul's Cathedral. Oh, yes, you'll have to face her
+      soon enough, and after that you'll never wish to hear the name Evelina
+      again. Now, good-night, and thank heaven for your respite.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They left her, glum and dissatisfied. It was plain to her that they were
+      disappointed at not being given the opportunity of showing how admirably
+      they had themselves under control in regard to the secret&mdash;of showing
+      Fanny how they could hear Mrs. Burney talk at length about &ldquo;Evelina,&rdquo;
+       while neither of them gave the least sign of ever having heard the name
+      before. It was indeed disappointing that all their studied immobility
+      should go for nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Fanny knew that their secret could not possibly remain hidden for many
+      more days. If the book was going into everybody's hands, her father would
+      be certain to have it, and then&mdash;would he not know? Would not she be
+      summoned into his presence and that of his wife&mdash;the lady of many
+      responsibilities&mdash;and required to defend herself?...
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She fell asleep before she had come to any conclusion as to the line of
+      defence that she should adopt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And in spite of the readiness of her sisters for any inquisition to which
+      they might be summoned, they were startled&mdash;as was also Fanny herself&mdash;when,
+      immediately after a rather silent and portentous breakfast, Mrs. Burney
+      said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Susy and Lottie, you may go to your duties. You, Fanny, will remain, as
+      your father wishes to speak to you on a matter of some gravity.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So the long-expected hour had come, the three girls thought. By some
+      accident unknown to them their secret was exposed, and Fanny was about to
+      be called upon to explain, if she could, to the satisfaction of her father
+      and her stepmother, how it came that she so far forgot the precepts of her
+      upbringing as to write a novel quite in the modern spirit, though adopting
+      a form which the master-touch of Mr. Samuel Richardson had hallowed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXIX
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE two girls left
+      the room slowly, after sending in the direction of Fanny a glance which
+      they meant should encourage her&mdash;a glance which should let her know
+      that they were quite ready to share her punishment, should the worst come
+      to the worst.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny replied to them with her eyes; and then prepared for the worst.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It quickly came.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear daughter,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney, when they were alone, Mrs. Burney in
+      her chair at the head of the table. &ldquo;My dear Fanny, I am no believer in
+      leading by degrees up to such a communication as I have to make to you. I
+      think that the sooner it is got over the better it will be for all whom it
+      may concern. Well, this is it: Mr. Thomas Barlowe has written to me asking
+      my permission for him to address you with a view to marriage.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He made a pause, looking at her to observe the effect of this revelation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And what he saw at first was a girl with a pale face and downcast eyes,
+      awaiting, almost breathlessly, an accusation from which she shrank; but
+      when he had spoken he saw a great change come over her. Not immediately,
+      but gradually. It seemed to him that she had not fully realized the
+      meaning of his words&mdash;that she was puzzled&mdash;trying to recall
+      what he had said. Then the light seemed to dawn upon her. She flushed,
+      and, after a few moments, threw back her head and went into a peal of
+      laughter&mdash;a real schoolgirl's fit of laughter at something amazingly
+      comic&mdash;the tumbling of a clown into a pool of water with a splash,
+      or, perhaps, the slipping of a dignified beadle upon a butter slide. Her
+      laughter went on for a long time, but without in the least suggesting
+      hysteria&mdash;it was simply a girl's natural laughter on realizing the
+      comic side of a situation which grown-up people would regard as extremely
+      serious.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Neither her father nor his wife could understand why she should receive in
+      such a spirit an essentially serious communication&mdash;the most serious
+      that any young woman could receive. They had not before them the ludicrous
+      picture that presented itself to her imagination&mdash;a picture of the
+      Roman Rauzzini on the one side and the Poultry Barlowe on the other,
+      asking her to choose between them. It was this presentment, coming in a
+      flash the moment she realized that the publishing of the book was not the
+      question which she had to face, that forced her to yield to that long fit
+      of laughter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her father and stepmother sat stolidly by, but she knew that had she and
+      her father been alone, he would at least have smiled with her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In a few minutes she had recovered herself sufficiently to be able to
+      apologize for her levity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I beg your pardon,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I am behaving like a goose, but I could
+      not help it&mdash;something forced me&mdash;something that occurred to me&mdash;a
+      funny thing. I am very sorry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is nothing funny that I can see in the honourable request made by
+      an honest young man, my dear Fanny,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no; nothing whatever; only&mdash;well, funny ideas will occur to
+      foolish people like myself at the most serious moments,&rdquo; said Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is quite true, indeed,&rdquo; said her father. &ldquo;I have myself experienced
+      what you say. Perhaps, after all, I should not have blurted out what I had
+      to tell you&mdash;it came to you as a surprise, I doubt not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A great surprise, indeed,&rdquo; she replied. &ldquo;I cannot understand how Mr.
+      Barlowe could ever fancy that I&mdash;that he&mdash;that&mdash;oh, I
+      should have known what that terrible entertainment was meant to lead to&mdash;but
+      when, in that clumsily marked way I was sent into the drawing-room with
+      him alone, he began to talk of his uncle, the Aider-man&mdash;he said that
+      the Alderman was quite approachable even in regard to ordinary people like
+      ourselves&mdash;and then came his cousins&mdash;all of them remarkable!
+      But you should have seen him slice away at the ham&mdash;the biggest ham I
+      ever saw&mdash;it needed to be&mdash;such eating!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The recollection of that no doubt made you laugh,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney. &ldquo;But,
+      at the same time, you must remember that though the customs of the Poultry
+      are not ours, still, they may be very reasonable customs&mdash;perhaps
+      more reasonable than our own. It may suit us to dine as late as halfpast
+      four and only to have a slice of cake with our tea; but business people
+      find it more convenient to dine at one o'clock&mdash;it makes an equal
+      division of their long working-day&mdash;so that a slice of ham&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know that is quite true, and I was not so foolish as to give myself
+      airs because I had dined at half-past four and had no appetite for ham,&rdquo;
+       said Fanny; &ldquo;but&mdash;oh, mother, you saw how foolishly formal was the
+      whole thing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I said that I thought it quite unnecessarily formal,&rdquo; replied Mrs.
+      Burney, &ldquo;and if I had had any notion that it was going to be like that I
+      would certainly have given Mrs. Barlowe a hint. Still, Thomas is, I know,
+      an excellent young man who has never given his parents an hour's
+      uneasiness, and his intentions are honourable, and so should be honoured.
+      If you have no tender regard for him at present that is no reason why,
+      when you get accustomed to the thought of him as a suitor for your hand&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, mother, that is quite impossible!&rdquo; cried Fanny. &ldquo;How could I ever get
+      accustomed to such a thought?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not know why you should not,&rdquo; replied Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;He is a most
+      worthy young man, and Mr. Barlowe's business is one of the best in the
+      City. You must remember, my dear Fanny, that in these days a girl, unless
+      she has a portion, runs a very great chance of becoming an old maid, so
+      that no opportunity of settling down in a comfortable home should be
+      neglected.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is perfectly true,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney. &ldquo;You will understand that we
+      have no desire to force this or any match upon you, my dear child: so long
+      as I have a house over my head you shall share it. But I am sure that you
+      must know that I am a poor man to-day, although I have worked as hard at
+      my profession as any living man, and I cannot provide you or your sisters
+      with any portion. Heaven knows that if I had a fortune I would gladly
+      divide it among you; but as it is, I think it right to tell you that you
+      need expect nothing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dearest father,&rdquo; said Fanny, dissolving into tears, as she took his hand
+      and kissed it, &ldquo;I have never expected a fortune from you&mdash;not a penny
+      piece. I know that I shall be portionless, and I daresay that Mr. Barlowe
+      thinks himself generous in his proposal; but I could never bring myself to
+      accept him&mdash;to look on him as a suitor. It would be quite impossible.
+      If I thought it possible that I should ever have any affection for him, I
+      might feel myself justified in encouraging him; but I know that it would
+      be out of the question. I would prefer to go forth and beg my bread&mdash;nay,
+      to starve.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then we shall pursue the matter no farther for the present,&rdquo; said her
+      father, kissing her on the forehead as she nestled close to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, that is best&mdash;for the present,&rdquo; acquiesced his wife. &ldquo;Still, if
+      you will be advised by me, my dear Fanny, you will remember that Mr.
+      Barlowe is ready to address you knowing that you will be portionless, and
+      if you bear that in mind, perhaps you will be surprised to find some' day,
+      not so far distant, that the thought of him is not so repugnant to you.
+      You are no longer a girl, and when one is midway between twenty and thirty
+      every extra year counts in reducing one's chances of being settled in
+      life. I could cite dozens of instances that I have known of young women
+      being glad to accept at twenty-eight the suitors they scorned at twenty or
+      even twenty-five. Oh, yes, the years come upon one and bring with them a
+      clearer vision of life and love; frequently they bring regret for
+      opportunities neglected. But we will not press the matter any farther&mdash;just
+      now. I dare say the young man will submit to be put off&mdash;for a time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, for ever,&rdquo; said Fanny resolutely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, well,&rdquo; said her stepmother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After a pause, during which Fanny seemed to be debating some matter in her
+      mind, a little line showing itself along her forehead, she said slowly: &ldquo;I
+      do not think that I shall be a burden on you, dear father; I believe that
+      one day I may be able to do something.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do not fancy that I would ever think of you as a burden, my dear child,&rdquo;
+       said her father. &ldquo;But what do you mean by saying that you may one day do
+      something?&mdash;some work, do you suggest?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Something&mdash;I am fond of writing,&rdquo; she murmured.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He laughed gently, saying:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are a very good girl, my love, and I know how much I am indebted to
+      you for your admirable copying of my notes for the History; but do not let
+      the idea take hold of you that such work is well paid. If you ever get in
+      touch with a bookseller, he will tell you that the work of a copyist is
+      very poorly paid.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was not thinking of copying,&rdquo; murmured Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of what then, pray?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I could but write a book,&rdquo; she replied, with her eyes on the floor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A book!&rdquo; cried Mrs. Burney, who thought that she had been silent long
+      enough. &ldquo;A book!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To be sure&mdash;to be sure,&rdquo; said her father, in the indulgent tone of a
+      parent humouring a child. &ldquo;You might write a book&mdash;so might anyone
+      who could pay for a ream of paper, a bottle of ink and a box of quills.
+      You should speak to Mr. Newbery about it: he has printed many nursery
+      stories since 'Goody Two Shoes.' You might indeed do something that the
+      children would take a fancy to. Well, Francis Newbery is as honest a man
+      as his uncle, and we may talk to him about it. By the by, did not you once
+      tell me that you had written something, or that you were going to write
+      something? You thought it proper to get my leave. I had forgotten that.
+      Well, if it be a moral nursery story, we might interest Mr. Newbery in
+      it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not think that it is quite wise to encourage a girl to neglect her
+      useful household duties in order to compile some rubbish that no one would
+      read,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course you will understand that you are not to neglect your household
+      duties, Fanny,&rdquo; said her father.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If she performs her household duties and sticks to her needlework, she
+      will have no time left for scribbling rubbish,&rdquo; cried Mrs. Burney,
+      hastily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She made a bonfire of all that childish nonsense long ago, and I hope
+      that she will never be so foolish as to waste good paper and pens and,
+      most precious of all, good time, over such exercises. That is all we have
+      to say just now, I think&mdash;is it not, Doctor? I shall reply to Mr.
+      Barlowe's letter&mdash;a most creditable letter&mdash;straightforward&mdash;honourable!
+      I am only sorry that I cannot make the reply to it that it deserves.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She had opened the door and called for William, their manservant, to
+      remove the breakfast things. Fanny lingered for a few minutes after she
+      had risen from her chair. She had assumed from the moment she had begun to
+      speak of writing, that her opportunity had come; if her stepmother had not
+      interposed so hastily and so emphatically, she would have made her
+      confession as to &ldquo;Evelina,&rdquo;, let the consequences be what they might; but
+      now that the servant had come with his tray and her stepmother jingled her
+      key-basket, she perceived that her chance was gone. She had a sense of
+      sneaking out of the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As she went slowly up the stairs she could hear the voice of her
+      stepmother remonstrating with her father for having said something that
+      she, Fanny, might regard as encouragement to waste her precious time in
+      the pursuit of such folly as writing a book.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She heard her father's little laugh as he explained (she was sure) that of
+      course he had not been speaking seriously; but that he had not the heart
+      to be severe upon her and her harmless scribbling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The author of &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; went very slowly upstairs, and when she reached
+      the work-room landing she found Susy and Lottie waiting for her, glowing
+      with excitement. Susy was waving over her head what seemed to be a bulky
+      pamphlet. Coming closer, Fanny saw that it was the chief of the literary
+      reviews, which had apparently just arrived at the house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A splendid column about 'Evelina,'&rdquo; she whispered. &ldquo;Not so good as it
+      should be, but still splendid. Here it is. But why are you so glum? Surely
+      they did not scold you now that the book is so great a success.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They did not ask me to tarry in the room to charge me with double-dealing
+      in regard to the book,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;They would not allow me to make my
+      confession when I had the opportunity&mdash;the best that I shall ever
+      have. 'Twas not my confession that was on the <i>tapis</i>, but quite
+      another. That is why I look glum.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Another&mdash;another confession? But what had either of them to
+      confess?&rdquo; cried Lottie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing. They didn't confess.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But whose confession was it, then, if not theirs?&rdquo; asked Lottie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was young Mr. Barlowe's,&rdquo; said Fanny, with a lugubriousness that was
+      quite comic. &ldquo;Young Mr. Barlowe wrote to the padre to confess that he was
+      passionately&mdash;madly&mdash;in love with me, and threatening to drown
+      himself unless permission were given to him to address me&mdash;we all
+      know how fervently young Mr. Barlowe would put his case&mdash;that was
+      what I was summoned to listen to&mdash;the fiery letter&mdash;only it was
+      too ardent for my ears: I was only told its purport.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But who would ever have thought that he had it in him?&rdquo; cried Susy. &ldquo;Such
+      impudence! I never dreamt that he could rise to such a height of impudence
+      or I should have thought better of him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Tis not too late yet, my child,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;You are at liberty to
+      think as highly of Thomas as you please&mdash;or as it would please him.
+      Please take over his blighted affections and it will be a weight off my
+      mind. Now give me a chance of reading my splendid review&mdash;not that I
+      care in the least what these foolish critics may say of me&mdash;I care
+      nothing, I tell you, only if you do not let me see it at once I shall die
+      at your feet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There it is,&rdquo; said Susy, &ldquo;a full column! The idea of anyone written of in
+      such terms being proposed to by Thomas Barlowe! Such impudence indeed!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXX
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE levity shown by
+      Fanny Burney and the flippancy of her phrases did not wholly conceal from
+      her sisters all that she was feeling on the subject of the proposal to
+      which she had referred with such lightness. She knew that while her father
+      and her stepmother would not treat her with any marked disfavour on
+      account of her rejection of the worthy young man who was ready to offer
+      her a home, still Mrs. Burney at least regarded with great disfavour the
+      nature of the answer which she had to send to the Poultry, and Fanny was
+      very well aware of the ease with which so conscientious a guardian as Mrs.
+      Burney could make her feel every day of her life what was Mrs. Burney's
+      opinion of her rejection of an eligible young man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny recognized the great merits of her stepmother, and she could look
+      from her standpoint at most of the incidents of their daily life. In that
+      household one mouth less to feed was worth consideration&mdash;the number
+      of mouths to feed was a constant source of thought with Mrs. Burney, as
+      was also the question of a provision for the future of all of them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Burney would be fully justified in feeling cross with her, not being
+      aware of the fact that another young man, compared with whom Thomas
+      Barlowe was as the dust of the ground, was burning, with an ardour of
+      which Thomas was incapable, to take her to himself and provide for her in
+      a style undreamt of in the Poultry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the worst of the matter was that she could not let her stepmother into
+      this secret. She could not say that she was engaged to marry Signor
+      Rauzzini, and she might leave herself open to the gravest rebuke for
+      having listened to his protestations of devotion without obtaining the
+      consent of either of her parents.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And through all this tangle of reflections there ran the silken thread of
+      consciousness that she was no longer the Fanny Burney who was regarded by
+      her stepmother as the dunce, but Fanny Burney the writer of &ldquo;Evelina,&rdquo; to
+      whom the most critical review had devoted a full column of adulation!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That was what made her position so anomalous; and it was because she took
+      the happenings of the previous days to heart that she went to bed with a
+      shocking headache, and after a sleepless night was found on the verge of a
+      fever. She was suffering from suppressed secrets; but the doctor did not
+      know this. He prescribed James's Powders; and when these should have done
+      all that they were meant to do&mdash;a small part of all that Dr. James
+      and Mr. Newbery affirmed they would do&mdash;a change into the country.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But several weeks had passed before she was strong enough to start on the
+      latter and most essential portion of the prescription, and found herself
+      in her own room in Mr. Crisp's isolated house at Chessington.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meantime, of course, she had no further news of the book, and she remained
+      unconfessed, so far as the secret of its publication was concerned. Her
+      sisters did not so much as mention its name or the name of Thomas Barlowe,
+      so cleverly had they diagnosed the nature of her malady and so tactfully
+      did they try to hasten her recovery.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her old friend Mr. Crisp had been her guide since her childhood. She
+      always alluded to him as her second Daddy&mdash;so far as paternal
+      influence was concerned she might have given him the foremost place. He it
+      was who had led her on to embody in letters to him the daily incidents of
+      her life, thus unconsciously setting the loom, as it were, in which
+      &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; was to be woven. He it was who became her teacher and her
+      critic, and it was possibly because she feared his criticism of her work
+      that she refrained from making a confidant of him from the first. She felt
+      that she could face the public and the reviewers&mdash;it did not matter
+      how they might receive the book, but she was too timid to submit it to the
+      mature judgment of the man who had first put a pen in her hand. It was not
+      on her own account that she refrained from giving him a chance of reading
+      her book, but on his: she knew how hurt he would be if he found her book
+      to be an indifferent one, and whether indifferent or not, how angry he
+      would be if people did not buy it by the thousand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now, however, that she found herself alone with him, she made up her mind
+      to tell him all about it. She would choose her own time for doing this;
+      but it would certainly be done before she returned to St. Martin's Street.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But on the second day after her arrival at Ches-sington a parcel came for
+      her, addressed by Susy. On opening it, she found it to contain two volumes
+      of &ldquo;Evelina.&rdquo; The letter that was enclosed told her that Cousin Edward had
+      called at the Orange Coffee House and found that a set had been left there
+      at the instance of Mr. Lowndes, addressed to Mr. Grafton. Of these, Lottie
+      had read the first two, which were now sent on to the author, but the
+      third she had not finished, and hoped that Fanny would not mind her
+      detaining it for a few days longer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This was really the first glimpse that the author had of her book in its
+      binding. She had, in the name of Mr. Grafton, requested Mr. Lowndes to
+      send a set of the volumes to the Orange Coffee House. But that was nearly
+      three months ago, and until now Mr. Lowndes appeared not to have thought
+      it worth his while to comply with the request. Now, however, it seemed to
+      have occurred to him that the author of a book that everyone was talking
+      about might be worth conciliating, and so he had directed a set of volumes
+      to the Coffee House.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At once Fanny made up her mind that she would pave the way, so to speak,
+      for a full confession to Mr. Crisp.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Susy has sent me on two volumes of a new novel, lest I should feel dull,&rdquo;
+       she said. &ldquo;As if I am not much more likely to feel dull in the company of
+      a new novel than of my old Daddy!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought that your stepmother prohibited the reading of novels, new or
+      old, in your house,&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps mamma did not know anything about this particular one,&rdquo; replied
+      Fanny; &ldquo;besides, it is to be read in your house, not ours.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So that the responsibility will be mine?&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;Mrs. Burney is only
+      answerable to heaven for keeping your mind free from the baleful influence
+      of novels, but I am in a worse case, for I am answerable to Mrs. Burney.
+      And what is the name of the precious production?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let me see,&rdquo; said Fanny, artfully referring to the title page. &ldquo;Oh, yes:
+      'Evelina; or, a Young Lady's Entrance into the World.' Do you call that an
+      alluring title?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Too sentimental by half,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;But I have heard of the thing, and
+      one of the reviews dealt with it some weeks ago.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Praise or blame?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, foolish adulation for the great part; but not without a reasonable
+      word here and there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The reasonable part you are sure must be the censorious? That is not fair
+      to the poor author.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor author? Yes, they are all poor authors nowadays. What's the name of
+      this particular item of poverty?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is no name on the title page; but I hear that the writer was Mr.
+      Anstey himself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! another 'Bath Guide'!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sir Joshua Reynolds told mamma that he had remained up all night reading
+      it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor Sir Joshua! His eyes are none too good at the best! And does Susy
+      believe that the book which kept Sir Joshua awake is the best one to send
+      you asleep? You came to Chessington, you know, to get as much as possible;
+      'Tired Nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep!' the truest words that
+      Shakespeare ever writ.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What I propose to do is to try it upon you, my dear sir. I mean to give
+      you a dose of it this evening, instead of gruel, and if it makes you sleep
+      I will know that I may continue it for myself&mdash;it will be more
+      wholesome than poppy or mandragora.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good! But I dare swear that it will be bad enough to keep me awake. You
+      know that extremes meet in the case of books, as well as other matters;
+      one keeps awake reading a good book, in expectancy of its undeveloped
+      goodness; and reading a bad one, wondering how far the author can actually
+      go in point of dullness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have often thought that; but Susy has sent only two of the three
+      volumes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So that we shall not be able to fathom the full depth of the author's
+      dullness? We should be grateful to Susy&mdash;so should the author. Well,
+      you shall begin after tea, while there is yet daylight: <i>Le livre ne
+      vaut pas la chandelle.</i>&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>Nous verrons</i>,&rdquo; cried Fanny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And she started reading the book that same day, an hour before sunset. The
+      room in which they sat was a small one with a window facing the west and
+      overlooking a long stretch of billowy common. The spicy scent of the
+      wallflowers in the little garden patch at the side of the house was wafted
+      through the half-open lattice, and occasionally there came the sound of
+      the ducks gabbling at the pool beyond the gate that shut off the house
+      from the lane. It was a cloudless evening, and the sunset promised to be
+      peach-like in its tender tints of pink and saffron with the curves of
+      delicate green in the higher sky. Fanny sat at the window and the old man
+      reclined at his ease upon the sofa.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am giving myself every chance,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;All that I ask of you, my
+      Fannikin, is that you do not glance at me every now and again to see if I
+      am still awake. If you do so, I shall never yield to so much as a doze.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I promise faithfully to await your signal that you are alert,&rdquo; said she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And so began one of the most delightful hours of her life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was not a particularly good reader aloud when a book was casually put
+      into her hands, but here she had before her a volume that she could almost
+      have repeated verbatim, so that she soon found that she was just too
+      fluent: she felt that if she went on at this rate his critical ear would
+      tell him that she had every page by heart, and he would ask her for an
+      explanation of so singular a thing as her being able to repeat so much of
+      a book which she professed to have in her hands for the first time. She
+      put a check upon her fluency, and though she did not go so far as to
+      simulate stumbling over certain words, she neglected the punctuation now
+      and again, and then went back upon some of the passages, causing him to
+      give a little grumble and say:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Be careful, my dear; there's no need for haste: the evening is still
+      young.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      After that she was more careful&mdash;which is the same as saying she was
+      more careless of adhering to the scheme she had adopted. She felt that as
+      he had now been put off the scent, she might run along as she pleased
+      without there being a chance of his suspecting anything through her
+      showing herself familiar with passage after passage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Before she had got through more than a dozen pages she heard a creaking of
+      the sofa&mdash;she trusted herself to glance in that direction and found
+      that he was no longer reclining: he was sitting up and listening
+      attentively. She continued reading without making a remark for a full
+      hour. The sun had set, but the twilight was clear enough to allow of her
+      seeing the print on the page before her for some time still; then the
+      darkness seemed to fall all at once, and she laid the book down when she
+      had come to the close of one of the letters.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Candles,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Candles! Upon my word, the world is right for once:
+      the stuff is good. We must have candles. Candles, I say!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Supper, say I,&rdquo; cried Fanny. &ldquo;I feel that I have need of bodily
+      refreshment after such a task. Does it sound real to you, Daddy Crisp&mdash;all
+      about the Young Lady who is about to enter the world?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not merely does it sound real, it is real&mdash;it is reality,&rdquo; he
+      replied quickly. &ldquo;The man who wrote what you have read has something of
+      the genius of&mdash;of&mdash;now whom does he resemble, think you?&mdash;Richardson
+      here and there, and in places, Fielding, it seems to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You suppose that 'tis written by a man?&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, of course, 'tis the work of a man,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;Where is the woman
+      living that is capable of writing a single page of that book? What, have I
+      gone to so much trouble in training you to understand what is bad and what
+      is good in writing, to so little purpose, that you should have a doubt as
+      to the sex of what you have just read?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The sex of a book&mdash;a novel?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not? There are masculine books and there is feminine&mdash;trash.
+      There you have the difference.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you do not consider this to be&mdash;trash?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you get the candles, Miss Burney? It seems that you are sorely in
+      need of illumination if you put that question to me seriously. Trash?
+      Madam, you perceive that I am all eagerness to hear the rest of the story,
+      and yet you put that silly question to me! Look you here, you rogue,
+      cannot you see that the very fact of your putting such a question to me
+      shows that the book is the work of a man? When a carefully trained woman
+      such as you cannot yet discriminate between the good and the trash that is
+      written, how would it be possible for a woman to write what you have
+      read?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You think there is nothing womanly in the book?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is nothing effeminate in the writing, so much is sure. There is
+      plenty that is womanly in the book, because the man who wrote it knows how
+      to convey to a reader a sense of womanliness to be in keeping with the
+      character of the letters&mdash;that is what is meant by genius. A woman
+      trying to produce the same effect would show the frill of her petticoat on
+      every page. She would make the men's parts in the book as feminine as the
+      women's. Now, no more chatter an you please, but get the candles.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And Mrs. Hamilton will get our supper by their light.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny tripped away, and was behind the door of the larder before she
+      allowed the laughter which was pent up very close to her eyes to have its
+      freedom. It was a very hearty laugh that she had, for there was a constant
+      buzzing in her ears of the question:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What will he say when he learns the truth?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She was ready to dance her Nancy Dawson in delight at seeing the effect of
+      the book upon the old man whom she loved&mdash;the man who was directly
+      responsible for its existence. If Mr. Crisp had not taken trouble with
+      her, encouraging her to write her letters to him in a natural style, the
+      correspondence in &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; would, she knew, be very different from what
+      it was. So, after all, she reflected, he was right in pronouncing the book
+      the work of a man; but he had no idea that he was the man who was
+      responsible for it. That reflection of hers was as fully imbued with the
+      true spirit of comedy as her anticipation of the effect that would be
+      produced upon him by the revelation of the authorship.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And that was why this young student of the human comedy was able to
+      restrain herself from making the revelation to him at once: she had, as it
+      were, a delicate palate for comedy, and it was a delight to her&mdash;the
+      gratification of her natural vanity had nothing to do with it&mdash;to
+      lead him on to commit himself more deeply every moment on the question of
+      the sex of the writer. Oh, no; she had no idea of making any confession to
+      him for the present. She would have many another chat with him before the
+      moment for that <i>dénouement</i> in the comedy should arrive.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So she got the candles and the housekeeper laid the cold chicken and the
+      plates on the supper-table, and Mr. Crisp set about mixing the salad in
+      the manner he had acquired in Italy. And all the time they were engaged
+      over the simple meal he was criticising what she had read, and he had
+      scarcely a word to say about it that was not favourable. But he took care
+      to protect himself in case he should be forced to retire from the position
+      he had taken up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A man is a fool to pronounce an opinion on a book before he has had the
+      last page read to him,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I have only been touching upon the part
+      that I have heard, and I say that it seems to me to be as good as anything
+      I have read for years; but that is not saying that the remainder, or some
+      portions of the remainder, may not be so greatly inferior as to compel me
+      to pronounce unfavourably of the book as a whole. I have had instances of
+      such inequality shown by many writers, and it may be that the writer of
+      'Evelina' will be added to the list, although he shows no sign of falling
+      off up to your last page. Do not be hurried by me, my dear, but if you
+      have indeed made up your mind to eat no cheese, Mrs. Hamilton can remove
+      the <i>débris</i>, and unless you are tired, you will read me a few pages
+      more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She read until midnight. The only pauses that she made were when he
+      trimmed the wicks of the candles. He commended her fluency. She had never
+      read better in his hearing, he said. She showed that she understood what
+      she was reading; and that, after all, was the greatest praise that could
+      be given to anyone. He did not suggest the likelihood that she was tired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was the sound of the bleating of lambs occasionally borne from the
+      meadows beyond the little stream&mdash;the sound of an owl that came
+      nightly about the house from the barn of the farm a few hundred yards away&mdash;the
+      sound of a large moth bumping against the glass of the casement through
+      which the candle-light shone. There was nothing to interrupt her in her
+      delightful task until the church clock struck the hour of midnight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not another line,&rdquo; she cried, jumping from her chair. &ldquo;Poor Evelina! she
+      will be the better for a sleep. When she awakens she may be able to see
+      more clearly who are her true friends and who are not to be trusted.
+      Good-night, dear Daddy; and receive my thanks for your attention.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Give me the volume,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I usually awake before six, and so shall
+      have a couple of hours of it before rising.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will not get it from me, sir,&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;Captain Mervain knows the
+      naval rule about drinking glass for glass, and let me tell you that the
+      same rule holds in the matter of reading a book&mdash;chapter for chapter
+      between us, sir; we shall finish as we have begun.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She blew him a kiss and ran upstairs to escape his protests: he shouted
+      them after her from the foot of the stairs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXXI
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE next morning
+      was a lovely one, and Fanny was feeding the ducks in the brook before
+      eight o'clock. When she came into the house to breakfast she found Mr.
+      Crisp in the porch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have given me a sleepless night,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I lay awake endeavouring
+      to determine for my own satisfaction what would be the outcome of the
+      girl's meeting that dreadful Branghton family. I worked out the story to
+      its proper conclusion&mdash;so I thought&mdash;on my left side; but when I
+      turned on my right I found that I had been grossly astray in all my
+      fancies; and forthwith I set to work to put myself right. After an hour or
+      two I thought I had succeeded, but, lo! a turn on my back and I saw that,
+      as I planned it, the story would never come to an end. So I kept on until
+      the dawn. Then I fell asleep, but only to find myself surrounded by
+      demons, in the form of Branghtons, and a master devil wearing the epaulets
+      of a naval officer, and he made for me with a horrid leer and a cry of
+      Mervain! I awoke in a worse state than did the Duke of Clarence in the
+      play, and I have not slept since. Oh, that little mischief, Susy!
+      Wherefore did she send hither that magic book to be my undoing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, sir, never before did I perceive the evil of novel reading,&rdquo; she
+      said. &ldquo;I could not understand my mother's banning all such books, but now
+      I see the wisdom of it. I now see how they tend to unsettle one. But it
+      may not yet be too late to save you from the evil influence of 'Evelina.'
+      If I read no more of her story, you will soon forget her and all may be
+      well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will read no more? Good! Carry out your threat and I will e'en take
+      the coach to London and buy a full set at Mr. Newbery's.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At Mr. Newbery's? Ah, sir, that is a threat you could not carry out,
+      however vindictive you might be.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And why not, prithee? Think you I would begrudge the seven or eight
+      shillings it would cost?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, sir; but if you went to Mr. Newbery you would probably find yourself
+      treated badly by him if you accused him of publishing the book. 'Tis Mr.
+      Lowndes who is the guilty person.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will not put one to the humiliation of a journey to London all for a
+      trumpery novel?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, not for a trumpery novel; but we were talking of 'Evelina.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I submit to the correction, my dear; and so now we are in perfect
+      agreement, you will continue the story, if only to allay my sleepless
+      speculations.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wonder how it will sound when read in the morning? I fear that it will
+      be as dull as a play would seem in the garish light of day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell not that to me. There are novels of the morn as well as of the even,
+      and I believe that the freshness of this one will be best appreciated in
+      the brightness of such a morning as this. At any rate, we can but make a
+      trial of it. If we find that it does not read well, you can lay it aside
+      till the evening.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny was delighted to find that he was as interested in her book as Susy
+      had been; and the noon came and found her beginning the second volume to
+      him, sitting by his side in the sunlight that bathed the little garden,
+      and his attention never flagged. Once or twice, however, he grumbled, but
+      her ear assured her that his grumble was not a critical one; it was only
+      meant to censure the behaviour of the rude Captain Mervain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They were still in the garden when, shortly after noon, a chaise was heard
+      in the lane: it appeared to be on its way to the house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! as I live 'tis mamma and my sisters come to pay us a visit,&rdquo; cried
+      Fanny, seeing a handkerchief waved to her from the window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They shall be made welcome, for I cannot doubt that they have brought the
+      third volume with them,&rdquo; said Mr. Crisp, rising to receive his visitors.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In this way the reading was interrupted, and indeed Fanny was rather glad
+      of a respite. She had not risen from her chair since nine o'clock. A
+      chance of stretching her limbs was very acceptable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Burney and the girls had scarcely settled down to their cakes and
+      sweet wine, after explaining that Dr. Burney had insisted on their taking
+      this drive into the country, the day promised to be so fine, when Mr.
+      Crisp turned to Susy, saying:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You wicked girl! What did you mean by sending us the two volumes of that
+      vile novel to upset us poor country folk? And I hope you have not
+      neglected to bring with you the third.&rdquo; Poor Susy reddened and glanced at
+      Fanny without trying to make any reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh, what is this?&rdquo; cried the old man. &ldquo;Do you mean to disclaim all
+      responsibility for the act? Ah, 'tis too late for you to make such an
+      attempt. The evil has been done. The poison has begun to work in our
+      blood; and its effects can only be neutralized by the contents of the
+      third volume. Say at once, I pray, if you have brought it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do not trouble poor Susy with your tropes, sir,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;She cannot
+      grasp your meaning, and only trusts that we have not gone mad. I suppose
+      the road was as usual&mdash;half of it muddy and the rest dusty?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I insist on hearing if the third volume is in the chaise,&rdquo; said Mr.
+      Crisp, firmly. &ldquo;If it be not, then you may drive straight back to St.
+      Martin's Street and return hither with it in time for Fannikin to read it
+      to-night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pray what book is it that you refer to, Mr. Crisp?&rdquo; inquired Mrs. Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What book, madam! As if there were more books than one printed this year!
+      Why, Mrs. Burney, where have you been living all this time, that you have
+      never heard of 'Evelina '?&rdquo; cried he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have heard of little else save this 'Evelina' for some time past; but I
+      have no time for reading novels, nor has any member of my family,&rdquo; replied
+      the lady.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I insisted on one member of your family finding the time yesterday and
+      to-day, and the consequence is that she has gone through the first volume
+      and part of the second since Susy was so obliging as to send them hither.
+      I was in hopes that you had brought the third volume; but I perceive that
+      we shall have to wait for it now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Susy was examining very closely the pattern on her plate when Mrs. Burney
+      turned to her, saying:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Does Mr. Crisp mean that you got that novel and sent it hither to Fanny?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only part of it&mdash;no more than two volumes,&rdquo; said Susy quickly, as
+      though anxious to submit extenuating circumstances to the notice of her
+      stepmother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you get it at Hill's library, or where?&rdquo; inquired Mrs. Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did not get it at a library,&rdquo; replied Susy slowly, as a reluctant
+      witness might answer an incriminating question.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, did you buy it? Did you spend your money on it?&rdquo; cried Mrs. Burney,
+      with a note of amazement not free from anxiety.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no; I did not buy it,&rdquo; said Susy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How did it come into your hands, then&mdash;tell me that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cousin Edward brought it for Fanny.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you read the first two volumes and are now reading the third?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, mamma, 'tis I that was led by my curiosity,&rdquo; said Lottie hastily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Though you have often heard me protest against the vice of novel reading?
+      I wonder at you, Lottie. I am shocked that you should so yield to a vulgar
+      temptation,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, my dear madam, you must not talk of our dear 'Evelina' as if she
+      were an everyday person,&rdquo; said Mr. Crisp. &ldquo;On the contrary, she is a most
+      interesting young lady, and if I do not soon learn what happens to her now
+      that she has formed some very dubious intimacies, I shall be inconsolable.
+      Have you read the book, Mrs. Burney?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not I indeed,&rdquo; replied Mrs. Burney, with more than a suggestion of
+      indignation that such a charge should be brought against her. &ldquo;I have
+      heard enough about that book during the past month to prevent me from
+      having any wish to read it, even if I were a novel reader, which I
+      certainly deny. I am ashamed that any member of my household should so far
+      forget her duty as to read such stuff.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, come, my dear lady, you must remember that there are novels and
+      novels,&rdquo; said Mr. Crisp. &ldquo;I have heard you praise Mr. Richardson, have I
+      not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Richardson was a genius and a great moral writer, sir, as well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The two are not invariably associated. But what if I tell you that this
+      new book is worthy of being placed between 'Clarissa Harlowe' and
+      'Pamela'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will not do so gross an injustice to the memory of a great man, I am
+      sure. But, if you please, we will discuss this no longer. No matter what
+      this 'Evelina' may be, the fact remains that I gave a command that our
+      home should be free from the taint of novel reading, and my wishes have
+      been secretly ignored. I should not wonder if Fanny had encouraged Edward
+      to procure the book for her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I cannot deny it,&rdquo; said Fanny in a low voice. &ldquo;'Twas my doing altogether.
+      All the blame should rest on my shoulders&mdash;yes, from the first&mdash;the
+      very first&mdash;from the title page on to 'Finis.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And your delinquency has given me greater pleasure than I have derived
+      from other people's rectitude,&rdquo; said Mr. Crisp. Then he turned to Mrs.
+      Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear madam, you must forgive our Fannikin for her misdemeanour. If you
+      had but read the book for yourself you would feel as I do on the subject.
+      'Tis the most fascinating story&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is, I hold, the worst of the matter,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;The more
+      fascinating the novel, the more dangerous it is, and the greater reason
+      there is why it should be excluded from every honest home. A dull story
+      may do but little harm. One might reasonably tolerate it even among a
+      household of young girls, but a clever one&mdash;a fascinating one, as you
+      call this 'Evelina,' should never be allowed to cross the threshold. But,
+      by your leave, sir, we will talk no more upon a question on which I know
+      we shall never agree.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is the most satisfactory proposal that could be made,&rdquo; said Mr.
+      Crisp, bowing. &ldquo;I will only add that since you are so fully sensible of
+      the danger of a delightful book in your house, you will take prompt
+      measures to prevent the baleful influence of 'Evelina' from pervading your
+      home, by despatching the third volume to me without delay. The third
+      volume of such a novel may in truth be likened to the match in the barrel
+      of gunpowder: 'tis the most dangerous part of the whole. The first two
+      volumes are like the gunpowder&mdash;comparatively innocent, but the
+      moment the third volume is attached&mdash;phew! So you would do well not
+      to delay in getting rid of such an inflammatory composition, Mrs. Burney.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I promise you that you shall have it at once, sir,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney.
+      &ldquo;And I trust that you will not allow the first and second to return to my
+      house. A barrel of gunpowder may be as innocent as you say, so long as the
+      match is withheld, but still I have no intention of turning our home into
+      a powder magazine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That was the last reference made to &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; while Mrs. Burney and the
+      two girls remained at Chessington. They went away so as to be back in St.
+      Martin's Street in time for dinner; but the moment they were together in
+      the chaise Mrs. Burney burst out once more in her denunciation of the vice
+      of novel reading. From her general treatment of the theme she proceeded&mdash;as
+      the girls feared she would&mdash;to the particular instance of its
+      practice which had just come under her notice. She administered to poor
+      Susy a sound scolding for having received the book from her cousin Edward
+      in secret, and another to poor Lottie for having ventured to read it
+      without asking leave. The girls were soon reduced to tears, but not a word
+      did they say in reply. They were loyal to their sister and her secret with
+      which they had been entrusted. Not a word did either of them utter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The drive home on that lovely afternoon was a dreary one, especially after
+      Mrs. Burney had said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I fear that this duplicity has been going on for a long time in our
+      house. Yes, I have noticed more than once an exchange of meaning glances
+      between you and Fanny, and sometimes, too, when your cousin Edward was in
+      the room. It seemed to me that you had some secret in common which you
+      were determined to keep from me. I said nothing at that time, for though
+      my suspicions were awakened, yet I thought it best to take the most
+      favourable view of the matter, and I assumed that the secret&mdash;if
+      there was a secret&mdash;was an innocent one&mdash;such as girls in a
+      family may share among themselves about some trifling thing; but now I
+      have no doubt that your glances and your winks and your elbowings had to
+      do with the smuggling of books into the house for your surreptitious
+      reading. I am ashamed of you. It hurts me deeply to find that, after all
+      the care I have taken to preserve you in innocence of the world and its
+      wickedness, you have been behaving with such duplicity. I shall, of
+      course, think it my duty to let your father know what I have found out,
+      and he may be able to suggest some means of preventing a repetition of
+      such conduct.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The poor girls dared not even look at each other for mutual sympathy, lest
+      such glances should be interpreted by their mother as a further attempt to
+      pursue the scheme of duplicity with which she had charged them. They could
+      only sit tearful and silent until they were once again in St. Martin's
+      Street. They longed to rush upstairs together to their room and mingle
+      their tears in a sisterly embrace before determining how they should meet
+      their stepmother's charges in the presence of their father.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Mrs. Burney was too astute a strategist to permit them to consult
+      together.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is your master within?&rdquo; she inquired of William, the man-servant, who
+      opened the door for them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is in the library, madam, with Mrs. Esther,&rdquo; replied the man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So much the better,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney to the girls. &ldquo;We shall go directly
+      to him, and your sister Esther will be present.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She made them precede her to the room that was called the library. Dr.
+      Burney and Hetty were laughing together across the table&mdash;the sound
+      of their merriment had been heard by the girls before the door was opened.
+      But at the portentous gravity of the entrance of Mrs. Burney her husband
+      became grave.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have returned early,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and&mdash;good heavens! you have been
+      weeping&mdash;you do not bring bad news&mdash;Fanny has not had a
+      relapse?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fanny is quite well; but I bring you bad news,&rdquo; replied Mrs. Burney. &ldquo;You
+      will, I am sure, regard it as the worst possible news when I tell you that
+      she, as well as her sisters here, have been guilty of the grossest
+      disobedience&mdash;a conspiracy of disobedience, I may call it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am amazed&mdash;and grieved,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;But I can scarcely believe
+      that, brought up as they have been&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They do not deny it,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;I only discovered by chance that, in
+      defiance of our rule against novel reading, they been have trafficking
+      with their cousin Edward to procure novels for their secret reading, and
+      the latest they smuggled into the house is that one called 'Evelina'&mdash;I
+      actually found Fanny reading the book to Mr. Crisp, and her sisters
+      admitted&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what did Fanny admit?&rdquo; he cried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She admitted that Edward had procured the book at her request,&rdquo; replied
+      his wife. &ldquo;Was not that enough?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not half enough&mdash;not a quarter enough, considering that it was Fanny
+      who wrote 'Evelina' with her own hand and under our very noses without our
+      suspecting it,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney quietly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Burney looked at him dumbly for more than a whole minute. There was
+      silence in the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she sat slowly down on the nearest chair, still keeping her eyes
+      fixed upon him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXXII
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>OCTOR BURNEY sat
+      for a long time staring at a point high above his wife's head. The eldest
+      daughter, Hetty, standing at the other side of the writing-table, was
+      radiant; her eyes were dancing. The two others were standing together&mdash;huddled
+      together, it might be said, for they suggested a pair of lambs recently
+      frightened&mdash;doubtful of what is going to happen next and feeling that
+      the closer they are to each other the safer they will be.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you ever hear of anything so funny?&rdquo; said Hetty, glancing around and
+      still radiant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her father got upon his feet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And she was the only one that never had any attention,&rdquo; said he, as if he
+      had not heard Hetty's remark. &ldquo;Fanny was left to make her own way as
+      pleased her best&mdash;no one troubled about her education. She was left
+      to pick up knowledge as best she could&mdash;the crumbs that fell from the
+      others' table&mdash;that was how she picked up French when the others came
+      back from school, and now she speaks it with the best of them... And so
+      shy! Tell me, if you can, how she got her knowledge of things&mdash;the
+      things in that book&mdash;the pictures red with life&mdash;the real
+      life-blood of men and women&mdash;love&mdash;emotion&mdash;pathos&mdash;all
+      that make up life&mdash;and don't forget the characterization&mdash;that's
+      what seems to me all but miraculous. Hogarth&mdash;we all know that
+      Hogarth drew his characters and fitted them into his pictures because he
+      made it a point to walk among them and look at them with observant eyes;
+      but tell me, if you can, what chance that child had of seeing anything;
+      and yet she has filled her canvas, and every bit is made up of firm, true
+      drawing. That is the chief wonder.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He spoke evidently under the impulse of a great excitement at first, not
+      looking at anyone in particular&mdash;just skimming them all with his eyes
+      as he paced the room. But he seemed gradually to recover himself as he
+      talked, and he appeared to address his last words to his wife. This
+      assisted her to recover herself also&mdash;a minute or so in advance of
+      him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You seem to be sure that Fanny wrote it,&rdquo; she said, when he had done. &ldquo;Is
+      it fair to condemn her before you make sure?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Everyone looked at Mrs. Burney; but only her husband laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Condemn her&mdash;condemn her for having written the finest novel since
+      Fielding?&rdquo; he said, with the laugh still on his face. There was no laugh
+      on hers; on the contrary, its expression was more serious than ever.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A novel is a novel,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I told Mr. Crisp&mdash;but that was only
+      about the reading of novels&mdash;the cleverer they are the more
+      mischievous&mdash;dangerous&mdash;even the reading&mdash;I never dreamt of
+      her going so far as to write one, clever or otherwise. But a novel is
+      still a novel&mdash;she must have neglected her duties in the house,
+      though I failed to observe it... and sending it to a bookseller without
+      saying a word to us! Who would have believed that a young woman with her
+      training&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It flashed across me when I read the verses addressed to myself at the
+      beginning that she had asked my permission some months ago, and that I had
+      given it&mdash;I did so laughing at the poor child's credulousness in
+      believing that any bookseller would print it for her and pay her for the
+      privilege&mdash;the privilege of making a thousand pounds out of her
+      book.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! are you serious?&mdash;a thousand pounds, did you say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Lowndes will make more than a thousand pounds by the sale of the book&mdash;Hetty
+      tells me that he only paid Fanny twenty for it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the world coming to&mdash;a fortune in a single book! And we
+      talked about her being portionless, when all the time she was more richly
+      endowed than all the rest of the family; for if she has written one book,
+      she can certainly write another equally remunerative. 'Perhaps she has
+      another ready for the printers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Burney was blessed with the capacity to look at matters, however
+      artistic they might be, from the standpoint of the practical housekeeper.
+      The mention of so sonorous a sum as a thousand pounds caused the scales of
+      prejudice to fall from the eyes through which she had regarded the act of
+      authorship, and at that instant she perceived that it should not be
+      thought of as a delinquency but as a merit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And, after all, it appeared that the girl had obtained the permission of
+      her father to print it&mdash;that put quite a different complexion upon
+      the transaction, did it not?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And a thousand pounds&mdash;that appealed to the good sense of a practical
+      person and swept away the last cobweb of prejudice that she had had
+      respecting novels and their writers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has she another book written, think you?&rdquo; she inquired in a tone full of
+      interest. &ldquo;Of course we shall see that she gets a better share of Mr.
+      Lowndes' thousand pounds than she did for her first.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She has not written a line since 'Evelina,'&rdquo; said Esther. &ldquo;To be sure, I
+      have not been her <i>confidante</i> since I got married, but I know that
+      she was so frightened at the thought of what she had done that she would
+      not write another page.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Frightened! What had she to be frightened about?&rdquo; cried Mrs. Burney in a
+      tone of actual amazement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Goodness knows,&rdquo; said Esther with a laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sound of the dinner-bell coming at that moment had about it also
+      something of the quality of a long, loud, sonorous outburst of laughter
+      with a cynical tinkle at the last.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The group in that room dissolved in all directions with exclamations of
+      dismay at being overtaken by the dinner-hour so unprepared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is all over now,&rdquo; said Susy to Lottie, when they were alone in their
+      room. &ldquo;I was afraid when she ushered us so formally into the library that
+      we would be forced to tell our secret.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I made up my mind that no torture of the rack or wild horses would unseal
+      my lips,&rdquo; said Susy, earnestly. &ldquo;Do you know, Lottie, I feel quite lonely
+      without our secret.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is just the same with me, dear,&rdquo; said Lottie. &ldquo;I feel as if I were
+      suddenly cut off from some great interest in life&mdash;as if I had gone
+      downstairs one morning and found that someone had stolen the piano. I
+      wonder if it was Hetty who told the padre.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Make haste and we shall soon learn all,&rdquo; said Susy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Before they had finished dinner they learned from their father how he had
+      got to the bottom of the secret that they had so cherished.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had gone as usual to give a music lesson to Queenie Thrale, and when
+      partaking of some refreshment before setting out for London, Mrs. Thrale
+      had talked to him in terms of the highest praise of &ldquo;Evelina.&rdquo; She had
+      read the book twice over, she told him, and had lent it to Dr. Johnson,
+      who could talk of nothing else. Then Mrs. Cholmondeley had arrived on a
+      visit to Thrale Hall, and she, too, was full of praise of the book. She,
+      too, had lent her copy to someone else&mdash;to no less important a person
+      than Mr. Edmund Burke, and he had declared himself as greatly captivated
+      by it as his friend Sir Joshua Reynolds had been. Everybody was talking
+      about it, and the question of the authorship had been as widely discussed
+      as before; Mrs. Cholmondeley had declared that she would give twenty
+      guineas to find out for certain who it was that had written the book.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Thrale had thereupon suggested that Dr. Burney was in a better
+      position than most people for solving the mystery, going about as he was
+      from one part of the town to another and being in close touch with all
+      manner of people.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I had not, as you know, so much as read the book for myself&mdash;I
+      seemed to be the only one in town who had not done so&mdash;and on getting
+      home I sent William post haste to Mr. Lowndes to purchase a set. This
+      done, I sat down to peruse the first volume. The page opened on the Ode;
+      it lay beneath my eyes, and I tell you truly that I did not seem to read
+      it: I seemed to hear Fanny's voice reading the verses in my ear, and the
+      truth came upon me in a flash&mdash;incredible though it appeared, I knew
+      that it was she who had written the book. Hetty came in before my eyes
+      were dry&mdash;she saw the volume in my hand, and she understood all. 'You
+      know,' was all that she said. I think that the greatest marvel was the
+      keeping of the secret of the book! To think of its being known to four
+      girls and never becoming too great for them to bear!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was appealing to his wife, but she only nodded a cold acquiescence in
+      his surprise. She remained silent, however, and this was something to be
+      grateful for, the girls thought: they knew just what she was thinking, and
+      they also knew that if they had some little trouble in keeping their
+      secret, she had very much more in restraining herself from uttering some
+      comment upon their reticence&mdash;their culpable reticence, she would
+      think it. They could see that she was greatly displeased at having been
+      excluded from their secret, since such an exclusion had forced her into a
+      false position more than once&mdash;notably in the presence of Mr. Crisp,
+      when she had become the assailant of novels and novel reading generally,
+      and also when she had scolded them on their return in the chaise. But they
+      were good girls, and they were ready to allow that they were in the wrong,
+      even though they did not think so: that is what really good girls do in
+      their desire for peace in their homes. And Lottie and Susy made up their
+      minds that should their stepmother tax them with double-dealing and
+      deceit, they would not try to defend themselves. The reflection that they
+      had kept their sister's secret would more than compensate them for any
+      possible humiliation they might suffer at Mrs. Burney's hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All that Mrs. Burney said at the conclusion of her husband's further
+      rhapsody about the marvel of Fanny's achievement, considering how she had
+      been generally thought the dunce of the family, was comprised in a few
+      phrases uttered in a hurt tone:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;While no one is more pleased than myself to witness her success, I cannot
+      but feel that she would have shown herself possessed of a higher sense of
+      her duty as a daughter if she had consulted her father or his wife in the
+      matter,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That may be true enough,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney; &ldquo;but if she had done so, would
+      she have achieved her purpose any more fully than she has, I ask you? No,
+      my dear, I do not feel, with any measure of certainty, that I would have
+      gone far in my encouragement of her efforts, nor do I think that you would
+      have felt it consistent with your principles to do so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was only referring to the question of a simple girl's duty in regard to
+      her parents,&rdquo; said Mrs. Burney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And your judgment on that point is, I am certain, unassailable,&rdquo; said he.
+      &ldquo;But here we have a girl who is no simple girl, but a genius; and I think
+      that a good deal of latitude should be allowed to a genius&mdash;a little
+      departure from the hard and fast line of the duties expected from a simple
+      girl may be permitted in such a one as Fanny.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, she has succeeded in her aims&mdash;so much is plain,&rdquo; said Mrs.
+      Burney. &ldquo;But I hope that should any of her sisters set about a similar
+      enterprise&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But the ringing laughter that came from the sisters, their father joining
+      in with great heartiness, saved the need for her to complete her sentence.
+      At first she felt hurt, but she quickly yielded to the exuberant spirit
+      that pervaded the atmosphere of the room, and smiled indulgently, after
+      the manner of a staid elderly lady who is compelled to take part in the
+      romp of her girls and boys at Christmas time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She continued smiling, and the others continued laughing, and this spirit
+      of good humour was maintained until bedtime.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The girls knew that they would not be scolded for their participation in
+      Fanny's secret; for Fanny by her success had justified any amount of
+      double-dealing. If Fanny had made a fool of herself they would feel that
+      they deserved to participate in her scolding; but success is easily
+      pardoned, and so they rightly counted upon a general amnesty. What was it
+      that their father had said about a thousand pounds?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They went to bed quite happy, in spite of being deprived of the fearful
+      joy of having a secret to keep.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXXIII
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>R. BURNEY had
+      given instructions that Fanny was not to be communicated with at
+      Chessington until he had seen her; but that the third volume of the book
+      was to be sent to Mr. Crisp without delay. He was to go to Streatham again
+      in two days' time, and thence to Chessington, where he would make Mr.
+      Crisp aware of the identity of the writer of &ldquo;Evelina.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He anticipated an interesting hour with Mr. Crisp, but a very much more
+      interesting half-hour with Mrs. Thrale; for he meant, of course, to lose
+      no time in letting that lady into the secret: he knew that she would make
+      the most of the information he could impart to her; to be the first to
+      learn what all her friends were striving to learn would at once place her
+      above Mrs. Cholmondeley, who was willing to pay twenty guineas for the
+      knowledge, and even Mrs. Montagu, who was inclined to patronize Mrs.
+      Thrale and a good many other ladies, in spite of the fact that Dr. Johnson
+      dined usually five days out of every week with Mrs. Thrale, but had only
+      dined once with Mrs. Montagu since she had gone to her new house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Burney was well aware how valuable the Thrale connection was to him; a
+      teacher of music is apt to look with sparkling eyes at a houseful of girls
+      whose father possesses the possibilities of such wealth as was defined by
+      Dr. Johnson in this particular case as beyond the dreams of avarice. Dr.
+      Burney had a very nice judgment on the subject of an influential
+      connection, and so was delighted to have a chance of doing a signal good
+      turn to so deserving a patroness as Mrs. Thrale. Yes, he felt sure that
+      his half-hour at Streatham Hall would be the most interesting of the many
+      half-hours he had spent under the same hospitable roof.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And he was not mistaken in his surmise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Thrale had, as usual, several friends coming to partake of an early
+      repast with her; and Dr. Burney had pictured to himself the effect of his
+      announcement to the company that his daughter had written the book upon
+      which he was pretty sure the conversation would turn&mdash;indeed, he felt
+      that he would be greatly surprised if the conversation did not immediately
+      rush to the question of &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; and remain there for the rest of the
+      afternoon; for the enterprising ladies would doubtless bring with them
+      some fresh suggestions or new cues to its authorship. He pictured himself
+      allowing them to go on for some time until perhaps a statement would be
+      made which he should have to contradict point-blank. They would all look
+      at him in surprise. What did he know about the matter? Was he interested
+      in the question? Had he found out anything?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      How he would smile while saying quietly:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I am more or less interested in the matter, the fact being that
+      'Evelina' is the work of my daughter, Fanny Burney!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That would be, he thought, a fitting moment in which to divulge the
+      secret; he saw the whole scene clearly before him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But before he had reached his destination that intuition of what would
+      commend itself to a patron which had been so important an auxiliary to his
+      ability in placing him above his rivals in his profession, overcame his
+      desire to play the most important part in a dramatic scene; he perceived
+      that such a rôle should be taken by an influential patroness, and not by
+      himself. Thus it was that when Mrs. Thrale was giving him a cup of
+      chocolate after his journey he smiled, saying:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was greatly interested in the conversation between Mrs. Cholmondeley
+      and the other ladies when I was last here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About 'Evelina'?&rdquo; she inquired. &ldquo;Ah, I wonder if Mrs. Cholmondeley has
+      yet paid over her twenty guineas to the discoverer of the author. It seems
+      that he has as arduous a task in regard to 'Evelina' as Raleigh had in
+      regard to his El Dorado.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So it would appear,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney. &ldquo;Let us hope that his efforts will
+      be more highly valued than those of poor Sir Walter. Have you yourself no
+      suspicions on the subject, madam?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, suspicions? There have been as many suspicions set going on this
+      subject within the month as would be entertained only by the most
+      imaginative Bow Street runner. For my own part, I maintain that the book
+      could only have been writ by our friend Horace Walpole. He found that his
+      'Otranto' excited so much curiosity when published without a name, he came
+      to the conclusion that he would produce another novel with the same amount
+      of mystery attached to it. The only point against this assumption is that&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That the book was assuredly written by another person,&rdquo; said Burney,
+      smiling in a way that he designed to be somewhat enigmatical.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Thrale tried to interpret his smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What!&rdquo; she exclaimed, &ldquo;you have formed another theory&mdash;you&mdash;you
+      have heard something since you were last here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not something, madam&mdash;not a mere something, but everything&mdash;everything
+      that is to be known regarding the writer of that book.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is't possible? Who is your informant?&mdash;the value of all that you
+      have heard is dependent upon the accuracy of your informant.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The book was written by the person whom I fancied I knew best of all the
+      people in the world, and yet the last person whom I would believe capable
+      of such a feat. The author of the book&mdash;I am the author of her being&mdash;she
+      is none other than my daughter Fanny.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Thrale sat staring at him, one arm resting upon the table, her lips
+      parted as if about to utter an exclamation of surprise, but unable to do
+      so by reason of her surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      More than a minute had passed before she was able to speak, and then she
+      could do no more than repeat his words.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your daughter Fanny&mdash;your daughter&mdash;but is not Fanny the little
+      shy one that goes into a corner when you have company?&rdquo; she asked, in a
+      tone that suggested that she had heard something too ridiculous to be
+      believed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is that one, madam,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;It would seem as if the corner of a
+      room has its advantages in enabling one to observe life from a true
+      standpoint. Two eyes looking out from a corner with a brain behind them&mdash;there
+      you have the true writer of a novel of life and character. Poor Fanny! How
+      often have not I talked of her as 'poor Fanny'? She had no education
+      except what she contrived to pick up haphazard&mdash;a sweet child&mdash;a
+      lovable daughter, but the last person in the world to be suspected of such
+      a book as 'Evelina.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are sure, sir&mdash;you have seen&mdash;heard&mdash;you know?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Beyond any doubt. Her sisters were let into the secret, but neither of
+      her parents. I know now why that was&mdash;no want of duty&mdash;no lack
+      of respect&mdash;she began the book for her own amusement, and it grew
+      under her hand; she sent it to a bookseller, more as a jest than in the
+      belief that anything would come of it, and up to the last it was treated
+      by her and her sisters as a schoolroom mystery&mdash;a nursery secret&mdash;and
+      Mrs. Burney and I were kept out of it solely because we were not of the
+      nursery or the schoolroom. And when it became a serious matter we were
+      excluded because they were afraid to reveal it to us&mdash;Fanny herself,
+      dear child!&mdash;feared that we would be concerned if it were stillborn.
+      It was only when it was at the point of being published by Mr. Lowndes
+      that she came to me saying that she had been writing something and wanted
+      my leave to send it forth, promising that no name would appear upon the
+      title page. I gave my leave with a smile, and when I had my laugh at the
+      innocence of the girl in fancying that any bookseller would pay for the
+      printing of what she might scribble, I forgot all about the matter. It was
+      only when I sent for the book and read the Ode addressed to myself that I
+      seemed to hear Fanny's voice speaking the words in my ear&mdash;I told the
+      others so when they returned from visiting her at Chessington. But
+      meantime Esther had come to me, and she told me all that was known to her
+      about the book and its secret.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The most wonderful story ever known&mdash;more wonderful than the story
+      of Evelina herself!&rdquo; cried Mrs. Thrale. &ldquo;How people&mdash;Mrs.
+      Cholmondeley and the rest&mdash;will lift up their hands! Who among them
+      will believe it all possible? List, my dear doctor, you must bring her to
+      me in the first instance&mdash;all the others will be clamouring for her
+      to visit them&mdash;I know them! You must bring her to me without delay&mdash;why
+      not to-day? I can easily send a chaise for her&mdash;a coach if necessary.
+      Well, if not to-day, to-morrow. I must have her here. We will understand
+      each other&mdash;she and I; and Dr. Johnson will be with us&mdash;quite a
+      little company&mdash;for dinner. You will promise me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Be assured, dear madam, that there is no house apart from her home where
+      I feel she would be happier than in this,&rdquo; said Dr. Burney. &ldquo;She has often
+      expressed the warmest admiration for you, and I know that her dearest wish
+      is to be on terms of intimacy with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The sweet girl! she shall have her dearest wish gratified to the fullest
+      extent, sir. You will bring her as early to-morrow as it suits you. Good
+      heavens! to think of that dear retiring child taking the town by storm!
+      Dr. Johnson wrote to me no later than last evening, expressing once more
+      his delight in reading the book, and Mr. Burke, too&mdash;but you heard
+      about Mr. Burke. I will never forget your courtesy in telling me first of
+      all your friends that she was the author, dear doctor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If not you, madam, whom would I have told?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall be ever grateful. You will give me leave to make the revelation
+      to my friends who will be here to-day?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is open for you to tell them all that I have told you, my dear madam;
+      and you may truthfully add that if the writing of the book will bring her
+      into closer intimacy with Mrs. Thrale, the author will feel that it has
+      not been written in vain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He made his lowest bow on rising from the table to receive his pupil, who
+      entered the room at that moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had confidence that he was right in his intuition that his patroness
+      would act with good effect the rôle which he had relinquished in her
+      favour, when her friends would arrive in another hour for their
+      &ldquo;collation;&rdquo; and he was ready to allow that none could have played the
+      part more neatly than she did when the time came to prove how much
+      better-informed she was than the rest of the world. She might have been
+      possessed of the knowledge that Miss Burney was the writer of &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo;
+       from the first, from the easy and natural way in which she said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pray do not trouble yourselves telling me what Mrs. Cholmondeley said to
+      Mr. Lowndes, or what Mr. Lowndes said to someone else about the writer of
+      the novel; for it happens that I know, and have known for&mdash;for some
+      time the name of the author.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There were a few little exclamations of surprise, and a very pretty
+      uplifting of several pairs of jewelled hands at this calm announcement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes,&rdquo; she continued, &ldquo;the writer is a friend of my own, and the
+      daughter of one of my most valued friends, and if any people talk to you
+      in future of 'Evelina' being the work of Mr. Walpole or Mr. Anstey or any
+      man of letters, pay no attention to these astute investigators, but tell
+      them that I said the book is the work of Miss Fanny Burney, one of the
+      daughters of the celebrated Dr. Charles Burney, himself the author of a
+      'History of Music' that will live so long as the English language has a
+      literature of its own.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Thrale did it all with amazing neatness, Dr. Burney thought; and the
+      attempt that she made to conceal the expression of triumph in the glance
+      that she gave to her guests let him know that his tact had been exercised
+      in the right direction. Mrs. Thrale was not the woman to forget that he
+      had given her such a chance of proving to her friends how intimate was her
+      association with the literary history of the day. She had been for several
+      years the patroness of Dr. Johnson, who had written the best dictionary,
+      and now she was about to take under her protection Miss Burney, who had
+      written the best novel. He knew that Mrs. Thrale was almost as glad to be
+      able to reveal the secret of &ldquo;Evelina&rdquo; as if she had written the book
+      herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And everyone else at the table felt that Mrs. Thrale was indeed an
+      amazingly clever woman; and wondered how Mrs. Cholmondeley would feel when
+      she had learned that she had been forestalled in her quest after the
+      information on which she had placed a value of twenty guineas.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXXIV
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T had all come to
+      her now. She had had her dreams from time to time when working at her
+      novel&mdash;dreams of recognition&mdash;of being received on terms of
+      equality by some of the lesser literary people who had visited the house
+      in St. Martin's Street, and had gone away praising the musical talents of
+      her sisters, but leaving her unnoticed. Her aspirations had been humble,
+      but it seemed to her so stupid to be stupid in the midst of a brilliant
+      household, that she longed to be able to do something that would, at
+      least, cause their visitors of distinction to glance into her corner and
+      recognize her name when it was spoken in their hearing. That was all she
+      longed for at first&mdash;to be recognized as &ldquo;the one who writes,&rdquo; as
+      people recognized &ldquo;the one who plays.&rdquo; But since Signor Rauzzini had come
+      upon the scene her ambitions had widened. She dreamt not merely of
+      recognition, but of distinction, so that he might be proud of her, and
+      that she might not merely be spoken of as the wife of the Roman singer.
+      That dream of hers had invariably been followed by a feeling of depression
+      as she reflected upon the improbability of its ever being realized, and if
+      it should not be realized, all hope of happiness would pass from her life.
+      Thus it was that for some months she had lived with the cold finger of
+      despair constantly pressing upon her heart. She was so practical&mdash;so
+      reasonable&mdash;that she could never yield herself up to the fascination
+      of the Fool's Paradise of dreams; she was ready to estimate her chances of
+      literary success, and the result of the operation was depressing. How
+      could any young woman who had seen so little of life, and who had been so
+      imperfectly educated, have any hope to be received as a writer of
+      distinction? What claim to distinction could such a girl as she advance in
+      the face of the competition that was going on around her in every branch
+      of distinctive work?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For some months her good sense and her clear head were her greatest
+      enemies; evermore bringing her back to the logic of a life in which
+      everything is represented by figures, from a great artistic success to a
+      butcher's bill&mdash;a life in which dreams play a part of no greater
+      significance than the splendid colours clinging about the West in the
+      unalterable routine of the setting sun.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Many times she had awakened in the night to weep as she felt the
+      bitterness of defeat; for her book had been given to the world and the
+      world had received it as the sea receives a stone that is flung upon its
+      surface. That simile of the stone and the sea was constantly recurring to
+      her, and every time she saw that it was weak&mdash;that it fell short of
+      meeting her case, for her book had made no stir whatsoever in the world,
+      whereas a stone, however small it might be, could not be given to the sea
+      without creating some stir on the surface of the waters.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then, quite unexpectedly, had come a whisper from the world to tell
+      her that her book had not been submerged: the whisper had increased in
+      volume until it had sounded in her ears like a shout of acclamation,
+      telling her that the reality had far surpassed her most sanguine dreams,
+      and that common-sense reasoning is sometimes farther astray in its
+      operation than are the promptings of the most unreasonable ambition.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      These were her rose-tinted reflections while driving with her father from
+      Chessington to Streatham, a journey which represented to her the passing
+      from obscurity to distinction, the crossing of the Jordan and the entering
+      into the Land of Promise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny Burney has herself told the story of her father's coming to her at
+      Chessington, and of her dear old friend's reception of the marvellous news
+      that Dr. Burney brought to him&mdash;of the phrases which she overheard
+      while the two men were in a room together&mdash;the incredulous
+      exclamations&mdash;&ldquo;Wonderful&mdash;it's wonderful!&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Why, she has
+      had very little education but what she has given herself&mdash;less than
+      any of the others&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;The variety of characters&mdash;the variety of
+      scenes, and the language&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Wonderful!&rdquo; And then Mr. Crisp's meeting
+      her, catching her by the hands as she was going in to supper, and crying,
+      &ldquo;Why, you little hussy, ain't you ashamed to look me in the face you&mdash;you
+      'Evelina,' you! Why, what a dance you have led me about it!&rdquo; Miss Burney
+      has brought the scene vividly before our eyes in her Diary.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was one of the happiest days of her life; she saw the pride with which
+      her father regarded her, for Dr. Burney was a practical man who valued
+      achievement as it deserved, and was, besides, the best of fathers, and the
+      most anxious to advance the interests of his children. He looked with
+      pride upon his daughter, and talked of her having made Mr. Lowndes a
+      wealthy man. His estimate of her earning powers had increased: he now
+      declared that even if Lowndes had paid a thousand pounds for the book, his
+      profits off it would enable him to buy an estate!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the happiest evening of her life; and now she was in the chaise
+      with her beloved father, driving to Streatham, where they were to dine,
+      and Dr. Johnson was to be of the party. This meant more than recognition,
+      it meant the Land of Promise of her ambitious dreams.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had many matters to reflect upon at this time, but all her reflections
+      led to the one point&mdash;her next meeting with Rauzzini. The truth that
+      had been revealed to her among Sir Joshua Reynolds' superb canvases, that
+      love was more than all else that the world could give her, remained before
+      her, as a luminous fixed star, to be a guide to her life; and the
+      happiness that she now felt was due to the thought that she could go to
+      the man whom she loved, without a misgiving, without fearing that he would
+      hear those dreaded voices of the world saying that he had been a fool to
+      ally himself with a nonentity, or that she would hear the whispers of
+      those who might suggest that she had done very well for herself. She had
+      long before made her resolution only to go to him when she could do so on
+      terms of equality. At that time her resolution seemed to shut her out from
+      all chances of happiness; she knew this, but at the same time she believed
+      that it would shut both of them out from every chance of unhappiness; and
+      so she had allowed it to dominate her life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That was where her common-sense and her reasonableness had their way,
+      prevailing over that blind impulse which she now and again had, to trust
+      to chance&mdash;and love&mdash;to overcome every other consideration, and
+      to give her lover and herself happiness solely by being together. It was
+      such impulses as this that caused love to be referred to as blind. But she
+      was now ready to thank heaven for having given her strength to overcome it
+      and so to give the victory to reason and good sense.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She made up her mind to write to him before she slept that very night,
+      telling him what her resolution had been&mdash;he had called it a mystery,
+      not knowing anything about it&mdash;and asking him to rejoice with her
+      that she had been able to maintain it, so that the barrier which she had
+      seen between them was now swept away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come to me&mdash;come to me&rdquo;&mdash;that would be the burden of her letter
+      to him; she would send it to him and he would come.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The thought made her lean back among the cushions of the chaise and shut
+      her eyes, the better to enclose the vision of happiness that came from her
+      heart. He would come to her and her happiness would be complete.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So she arrived with her father at Thrale Hall and was welcomed by Mrs.
+      Thrale in the porch. When she had made her toilet for dinner she was shown
+      into the drawing-room. As she entered, she was conscious of the presence
+      of several men, and the one nearest to her was, she saw, Signor Rauzzini.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All the men in the room were looking toward her except Rauzzini. He was
+      standing by the side of a small table, presenting his profile to her, and
+      his eyes were gazing across the room at a picture that hung between the
+      windows, a frown on his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was startled, and the blood rushed to her cheeks. It would have done
+      so on her entering the room, even if she had not been surprised to see her
+      lover there when she believed him to be still in France.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had stopped before reaching the middle of the room, and then she was
+      hidden from the view of everybody by a huge mass of manhood in the person
+      of Dr. Johnson. He seemed inclined to embrace her; and as he swung himself
+      close to her, there was no one in the room that had not a moment of
+      trepidation lest he should fall over her and crush her flat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Thrale tripped alongside Fanny, as if ready to die with her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, come, Dr. Johnson,&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;I have no intention of allowing you
+      to monopolize Miss Burney, for that I perceive is your desire. The
+      gentlemen must be presented to her in proper form.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Madam,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;I understood clearly that Miss Burney was coming hither
+      for myself alone, and I have no mind to share so precious a morsel with
+      others. Miss Burney and I are old friends, give me leave to say; I have
+      more than once been interested in a book in the room where she was sitting
+      in her father's house. Come to my arms, Miss Burney, and we shall laugh
+      together at the jealous glances the others cast at me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Burney will sit beside you at dinner, sir, and that must suffice you
+      for the present,&rdquo; said Mrs. Thrale, taking Fanny by the hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Johnson had succeeded, after more than one ineffectual attempt, in
+      grasping Miss Burney's left hand, and in his ponderous playfulness, he
+      refused to relinquish it, so that she had to make her curtsies to the
+      gentlemen with Mrs. Thrale on one side of her and Johnson on the other.
+      There was Mr. Seward and Sir Joshua Reynolds, and two others besides
+      Signor Rauzzini. Each of them had a compliment to offer her, and did so
+      very pleasantly and with great tact.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now that is done, Miss Burney and I can sit together on the sofa, and she
+      will tell me why she loves the Scotch and I will scold her for it,&rdquo; said
+      Johnson complacently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, sir, Miss Burney has not yet greeted Signor Rauzzini,&rdquo; said Mrs.
+      Thrale. &ldquo;You and Miss Burney are already acquainted, I know, Signor
+      Rauzzini, though you did fancy that she was one of the musical girls of
+      St. Martin's Street.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rauzzini took a single step away from the table at which he had remained
+      immovable, and bowed low, without speaking a word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fanny responded. They were separated by at least three yards.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dinner is on the table, sir,&rdquo; announced a servant from the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not sorry,&rdquo; said Johnson. &ldquo;Mrs. Thrale gave me a solemn promise that
+      Miss Burney should sit next to me. That was why I kept my eye on Miss
+      Burney.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And hand too, sir,&rdquo; remarked Mr. Seward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, yes, sir, and hand too, if you insist,&rdquo; said Johnson. &ldquo;And let me
+      tell you, sir, that a Lichfield man will keep his hand on anything he
+      wishes to retain when another Lichfield man is in the same room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His laughter set the ornaments on the mantelpiece a-jingling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And they went in to dinner before the echoes had died away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Thrale kept her promise, and Fanny was placed next to Johnson. But
+      even then he did not let go her hand. He held it in one of his own and
+      patted it gently with the other. Fanny glanced down the table and saw that
+      the eyes of the young Roman were looking in her direction, and that they
+      were flaming. What could he mean, she wondered. She had been at first
+      amazed at his bearing toward her in the drawing-room; but after a moment's
+      thought, she had supposed that he had assumed that distant manner to
+      prevent anyone from suspecting the intimacy there was between them. But
+      what could that angry look in his eyes portend? Was it possible that he
+      could be jealous of Dr. Johnson's awkward attention to her?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was greatly troubled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But if he had, indeed, resented Johnson's attention to her, such a plea
+      was no longer valid after the first dish had been served, for in an
+      instant Johnson's attention was transferred, with increased force, to the
+      plate before him, and during the solid part of the meal, at least, it was
+      never turned in any other direction. Poor Fanny had never seen him eat,
+      nor had she the same privilege in respect of Mr. Thrale. But she needed
+      all the encouragement that her hostess could afford her to enable her to
+      make even the most moderate meal while such distractions were in her
+      immediate neighbourhood; and she came to the conclusion that she had been
+      ridiculously fastidious over the prodigious tea and its service at Mr.
+      Barlowe's in the Poultry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Mrs. Thrale was as tactful and as chatty as ever, and Mr. Seward made
+      pleasant conversation for her, sitting, as he did, on the other side from
+      Johnson. When Johnson was eating, his fellow guests understood that their
+      chance was come to express their views without a dread of being
+      contradicted by him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But from the feebleness of her contribution to the chat of the table, Mrs.
+      Thrale as well as Mr. Seward perceived that all they had been told about
+      the timidity of little Miss Burney was even less than the truth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But for that matter, Signor Rauzzini, who had been placed between Mrs.
+      Thrale and Dr. Burney, was found by both of them to be also singularly
+      averse from joining in the conversation, whether in reply to Burney, who
+      addressed him in Italian, or to his hostess, who spoke French to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As Mrs. Thrale talked a good deal herself, however, she rose with an
+      impression that there had been no especial lack of brilliancy at the
+      table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She took Fanny away with her, her determination being that if she should
+      fail to draw this shy young creature out of her shell, she would at any
+      rate convince her that her hostess was deserving of the reputation which
+      she enjoyed for learning, combined with vivacity, so that their
+      companionship could not be otherwise than profitable after all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXXV
+    </h2>
+    <p class="pfirst">
+      <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T was not yet six
+      o'clock and the sun was not due to set for more than another hour. The
+      evening was a lovely one. From the shrubberies around the house came the
+      liquid notes of countless blackbirds and thrushes, and above the trees of
+      the park the cawing of the rooks as they wheeled above their nests and
+      settled upon the branches.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We shall sit on the terrace for half an hour, if you have a mind to,&rdquo;
+       said Mrs. Thrale, taking Fanny through the drawing-room into a smaller
+      room that opened upon a long terrace above the beds of the flower-garden.
+      Here were several seats and a small table bearing writing materials.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here I do most of my correspondence in the summer,&rdquo; said Mrs. Thrale.
+      &ldquo;Sitting at that table in the open air, I have few distractions, unless I
+      choose to accept the birds as such; and here I hope you will begin a new
+      novel, or better still, a comedy that Mr. Sheridan will produce, with Mrs.
+      Abington in her most charming gowns&mdash;you must give your namesake a
+      chance of wearing a whole trunkful of gowns.&rdquo; They seated themselves, and
+      Mrs. Thrale continued:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now I have confided in you how I do my simple work, and I wish to hear
+      from you by what means you found time to write your novel. That is the
+      greatest secret of all associated with 'Evelina'&mdash;so your father
+      thinks. Mrs. Burney I always knew as a model housekeeper&mdash;a model
+      manager of a family, and how you could contrive to write a single page
+      without her knowledge is what baffles me as well as your father.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To tell you all would, I fear, be to confess to a lifetime of duplicity,&rdquo;
+       said Fanny. &ldquo;I am sometimes shocked now when I reflect upon my
+      double-dealing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me how you first came to stray from the paths of virtue&mdash;such a
+      story is invariably interesting,&rdquo; said Mrs. Thrale.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My story is like all the others,&rdquo; replied Fanny. &ldquo;I only meant to turn
+      aside a little way, but soon I lost myself and I knew that there was no
+      retracing my steps.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Alas, alas, the old story!&rdquo; said Mrs. Thrale, with a long-drawn sigh.
+      &ldquo;Well, happily, you were not able to retrace your steps.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I had no idea that the story would grow upon me as it did,&rdquo; said Fanny.
+      &ldquo;I really only meant it to be a diversion for our dear friend, Mr. Crisp,
+      and an exercise for myself. I wrote a scrap now and again at odd moments&mdash;when
+      I was supposed to be writing to Mr. Crisp, or copying out my father's
+      notes for his History, at home as well as at Ches-sington, and when I was
+      staying at Lynn; and so the thing grew and grew until I was afraid to look
+      at what I had perpetrated.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are paraphrasing <i>Macbeth</i>, my dear: 'I am afeared to think what
+      I have done: Look on't again I dare not,'&rdquo; said the elder lady. &ldquo;But with
+      all you were able to prepare your father's great work for the press&mdash;he
+      told me as much; so that what your double-dealing comes to is that you did
+      his writing as well as your own, and at the same time neglected none of
+      your ordinary household duties&mdash;if you had done so Mrs. Burney would
+      have informed you of it, I have no doubt. An excellent housewife, Mrs.
+      Burney! And now you shall tell me how you contrived to bring together so
+      marvellous a group of characters&mdash;you who have lived so short a time
+      in the world, and had so small an amount of experience.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should like someone to answer that question for me,&rdquo; said Fanny. &ldquo;It
+      was not until I read the book in print that I began to be surprised at it,
+      and to wonder how it came to be written and how those characters had found
+      their way into it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But this question was too interesting a one not to be pursued by Mrs.
+      Thrale; and for half an hour she put inquiry after inquiry to Fanny
+      respecting the characters, the incidents and the language of &ldquo;Evelina.&rdquo;
+       Mrs. Thrale was certainly determined to place herself in a position to
+      prove to her friends that Miss Burney had made a <i>confidante</i> of her
+      in all matters, down to the smallest detail of the book.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In ordinary circumstances Fanny would have been delighted to give her her
+      confidence in regard to these particulars&mdash;she had always a childlike
+      pleasure in talking about her books&mdash;but at this time she only did so
+      with a great effort. For while Mrs. Thrale was plying her with questions
+      about &ldquo;Evelina,&rdquo; there was ever before Fanny the unanswered question as to
+      what Rauzzini meant by his coldness and formality both before dinner and
+      during that meal. What did he mean by looking at her with that reproachful
+      frown upon his face? What did he mean by averting his eyes from her when
+      he had a chance of exchanging confidences with her, as he had often done
+      before? What did he mean by sitting at the table without addressing a
+      single word to her?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      These were the questions which she was struggling in vain to answer to her
+      own satisfaction all the time that Mrs. Thrale was putting inquiry after
+      inquiry to her upon a matter that Fanny now regarded as insignificant
+      compared with the one that she was trying to answer for herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Thrale was just beginning a series of questions on the subject of the
+      comedy which she meant Miss Burney to write, when a servant appeared with
+      a message for the former.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tiresome!&rdquo; exclaimed Fanny's hostess, rising. &ldquo;Here is some insignificant
+      household matter that can only be dealt with by the mistress&mdash;summer
+      frocks for two girls: the carrier has brought some boxes&mdash;the summer
+      has come upon us before spring has prepared us for its arrival, and there
+      has been a despairing cry heard in the nursery. I need not excuse myself
+      to you, Miss Burney. You will spare me for ten minutes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Burney hoped that the feeling of relief of which she was conscious
+      did not show itself on her face, when she expressed the hope that Mrs.
+      Thrale would not think of her; she would be quite happy with the birds.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And the comedy&mdash;do not forget the comedy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Burney laughed, but before her hostess had reached the door leading
+      off the terrace, she was once more immersed in that question:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What does he mean by his change of attitude in regard to me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was serious&mdash;so much she knew. He had heard something that had
+      caused him to change. But what could he have heard? What manner of man was
+      he that would allow himself to be so influenced by anything that he might
+      hear against her, without first coming to her for an explanation?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her mind went back to the evening when they had first met. It was in St.
+      Martin's Street. He was there on the invitation of Dr. Burney: but it
+      seemed that he had become conscious of a sympathy existing between her and
+      himself, for he had remained by her side for a full hour while the others
+      in the room were singing and playing on the piano, and he had held her
+      hand at parting, expressing the hope, which his eyes confirmed, that they
+      would soon meet again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And they had met again and again until one evening they found themselves
+      alone in an anteroom to the apartment where a musical programme was being
+      performed at a great house. Then he had told her that his happiness
+      depended on her returning the love which he bore her; and startled though
+      she had been, yet when he took her hand all her shyness seemed to vanish
+      and she confessed....
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A sound behind her only served to make her memory seem more vivid, for it
+      was his voice that reached her ear and it was singing the same aria that
+      he had come from singing on that evening&mdash;the passionate &ldquo;<i>Lascia
+      ch'io pianga</i>&rdquo; of Handel. Once more she was listening to the strains&mdash;they
+      came from one of the rooms that opened upon the terrace&mdash;and now the
+      chords of the accompaniment were struck with a vehemence that had been
+      absent from her father's playing to Rauzzini's singing upon that occasion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She listened as if in a dream while the noble, despairing strain went on
+      to its close, and the melody sobbed itself into silence&mdash;a silence
+      that the birds among the roses seemed unwilling to break, for only an
+      occasional note of a thrush was in the air....
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She heard the sound of the door opening a little way down the terrace&mdash;of
+      a foot upon the flagged path. She did not raise her head, but she knew
+      that he was there&mdash;only a few yards away from her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Through the silence there came the cawing of rooks far away among the
+      trees of the park.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then all at once she heard his sudden exclamation of surprise. He had not
+      seen her at first; he saw her now.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>Dio mio! ella è qui!</i>&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Still she did not turn her head toward him. More than a minute had passed
+      before she heard his slow steps as he approached her. He was beside her
+      for quite as long before he spoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did not know that you were here,&rdquo; he said in a low voice. &ldquo;But I am
+      glad. It is but right that I should say good-bye to you alone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she looked up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why&mdash;why&mdash;why?&rdquo; she cried almost piteously. &ldquo;Why should you say
+      good-bye? What has made the change in you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is not I who have changed: it is you,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;I loved the sweet,
+      modest, untarnished jewel of a girl&mdash;a pearl hidden away from the
+      sight of men in a dim sea-cave&mdash;a violet&mdash;ah, I told you how I
+      loved the violet that hides itself from every eye&mdash;that was what you
+      were when I loved you, and I hoped to return to your side and find you the
+      same. Well, I return and&mdash;ah, where is the exquisite shrinking one
+      that I looked for? Gone&mdash;gone&mdash;gone for ever, and in her place I
+      find one whose name is in every mouth&mdash;not a soft, gentle girl, but a
+      woman who has put her heart into a book&mdash;<i>Dio mio!</i> A woman who
+      puts her heart into a book is like a woman who disrobes in a public place&mdash;worse&mdash;worse&mdash;she
+      exposes a heart that should be sacred&mdash;feelings that it would be a
+      gross indelicacy to exhibit to the eyes of man!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And that is how you think of me on account of what I have done?&rdquo; said
+      she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How can I think anything else?&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;I told you that I loved you
+      because you were so unlike others&mdash;because you were like a child for
+      timidity and innocence of the world. I told you on that last evening we
+      were together how greatly I admired the act of Miss Linley in turning her
+      back upon the platform where she had sung and vowing never to return to it&mdash;that
+      was what I told you I loved&mdash;I who have seen how the nature&mdash;the
+      womanly charm of every woman suffers by reason of her appealing to the
+      public for money&mdash;for applause. That beautiful creature forsook the
+      platform before it was too late&mdash;before the evil influence could work
+      her ruin. But you&mdash;what do I hear the day I return to England?&mdash;you
+      have put your heart&mdash;your soul, into a book that causes your name to
+      be tossed about from mouth to mouth&mdash;Fanny Burney&mdash;Fanny Burney&mdash;Fanny
+      Burney&mdash;I hear that name, which I regarded as sacred, spoken as
+      freely as men speak the name of their Kitty Fisher&mdash;their Polly
+      Kennedy&mdash;their Fanny Abington! These are public characters&mdash;so
+      are you&mdash;oh, my God! so are you. You should have heard how you were
+      discussed in that room behind us before you arrived to-day&mdash;that
+      gross man Johnson&mdash;he called you by a dozen pet names as if he had a
+      right&mdash;'Fan'&mdash;'Fannikin'&mdash;I know not what&mdash;' a shy
+      rogue '&mdash;that was another! They laughed! They did not see the
+      degradation of it. You were a toy of the public&mdash;the vulgar crowd!
+      Ah, you saw how that gross man, who fed himself as a wolf, tucked you
+      under his arm and the others only smiled! Oh, I was shocked&mdash;shocked!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I felt proud&mdash;prouder than I have felt in my life,&rdquo; said she.
+      &ldquo;But now I see what I have lost&mdash;forfeited. Listen to me and I will
+      tell you what my dream was. I had written that book, but I had no hope of
+      printing it until I met you and heard from your lips&mdash;all that I
+      heard.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was the truth&mdash;then: I loved you&mdash;then.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I knew that it was the truth. But who was I that I should be beloved by
+      you? I felt that it would be unendurable to me to hear people refer to us&mdash;as
+      I knew they would&mdash;the great singer who had stooped to a nonentity.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! that was the charm!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who except you would have said so? I knew what they would say, and I made
+      up my mind that I would not go to you except as an equal. I wanted you to
+      marry someone of whom you would feel proud, and I thought that I had a
+      little gift which I would lay at your feet. I did my best to perfect it
+      for your sake; but even when the book was printed I would not give you my
+      promise until I had assured myself that the gift would be pronounced
+      worthy of your acceptance. That was why I put you off for so many months.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, that was your mystery&mdash;you called it a mystery.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That was my secret&mdash;my mystery. Never mind; I thought that my hope
+      was realized when everyone about me was talking of the book and when
+      people whose opinion was valuable had said it was good&mdash;my one
+      thought, God knows, was that I could go to you&mdash;that I could make you
+      happy, since I should be thought by the world to be in some measure at
+      least, worthy of you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My poor child! you have not made me happy, but miserable. No one can make
+      me happy now. I do not love you now&mdash;you are a different person now,
+      and you can never return to be what you were. That is the worst of all:
+      you can never return to your former innocence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can bear to hear you say even that; for now I perceive the mistake I
+      made. I should not have thought of the difference between us: I should
+      only have had one thought&mdash;that you had offered me your love and that
+      I was ready to offer you my love. That should have been enough for me. You
+      were right, I was wrong. Good-bye.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked at her for a few moments&mdash;tears were in his eyes and on his
+      cheeks&mdash;then he turned away with a passionate gesture, crying in his
+      native tongue:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mother&mdash;mother in heaven! I loved her because she was of a nature
+      the same as yours&mdash;saint-like as a lily&mdash;shrinking from the
+      world&mdash;in the world but having nothing in common with the world. I
+      loved her because I thought that she was as you were. I will not be a
+      traitor to your ideal&mdash;to your memory.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He returned to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am alone in the world; but I know that the spirit of that saint, my
+      mother, looks down upon me from her heaven, and will comfort me. My heart
+      is broken. <i>Addio! Addio!</i> I do not mean to be cruel&mdash;tell me
+      that you do not accuse me of being cruel!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not accuse you. I think I understand you&mdash;that is all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>Addio&mdash;addio&mdash;addio!</i>&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The sound of his voice grew less with every word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was alone in the silence of the twilight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Not for long, however. She heard the voice of Mrs. Thrale in the room
+      behind her, followed by the protests of Dr. Johnson.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Burney and I want to have an undisturbed talk together about writing
+      books,&rdquo; Mrs. Thrale was saying as she came out upon the terrace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Books, madam; any fool can talk of books, and a good many fools avail
+      themselves of the licence,&rdquo; cried Johnson. &ldquo;Miss Burney and I are going to
+      talk about life. Books are not life, Miss Burney.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir,&rdquo; said Miss Burney slowly; &ldquo;books are not life&mdash;books are
+      not life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <h3>
+      THE END
+    </h3>
+    <div style="height: 6em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Fanny's First Novel, by Frank Frankfort Moore
+
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+</pre>
+
+  </body>
+</html>
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author	nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org>	2025-02-05 19:48:26 -0800
committer	nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org>	2025-02-05 19:48:26 -0800
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parent	da159c85c9d5d1c6945443960533e01e7ec7703f (diff)