Self-control: A Novel. Mary Brunton
quest of it.
Laura followed her down stairs, to ask from Mrs Dawkins a direction to a picture-dealer, to whom she might dispose of her performance. Mrs Dawkins said she knew of no such person; but directed Laura to a printshop, the master of which was her acquaintance, where she might get the intelligence she wanted.
On the following morning, as soon as Captain Montreville had set out for Richmond, his daughter, sending for a hackney coach, departed on the most interesting business she had ever undertaken. Her heart fluttered with expectation – her step was buoyant with hope, and she sprung into the carriage with the lightness of a sylph. Stopping at the shop which her landlady recommended, she was there directed to several of the professional people for whom she was enquiring, and she proceeded to the habitation of the nearest. As she entered the house, Laura changed colour, and her breath came quick. She stopped a moment to recover herself, and then followed her conductor into the presence of the connoisseur. Struck with the sight of so elegant a woman, he rose, bowed very low, and supposing that she came to make some addition to her cabinet, threw open the door of his picture-room, and obsequiously hoped that she might find something there worthy of her attention. Laura modestly undeceived him, saying, that she had brought in the carriage which waited for her, a picture which she wished to dispose of. This statement instantly put to flight the servility of her hearer; who, with completely recovered consequence, inquired the name of the artist; and being answered, that the picture was not the work of a professional man, wrinkled his nose into an expression of ineffable contempt, and said – 'I make it a rule never to buy any of these things – they are generally such vile daubs. However to oblige so pretty a lady,' added he, (softening his contumelious aspect into a leer), 'I may look at the thing, and if it is at all tolerable' – 'There is no occasion to give you that trouble,' said Laura, turning away with an air which again half convinced the man that she must be a person of consequence. He muttered something of 'thinking it no trouble;' to which she gave no attention, but hastened to her carriage, and ordered the coachman to drive to the show-room of an Italian.
Laura did not give him time to fall into the mistake of the other, but instantly opened her business; and Mr Sonini was obligingly running himself to lift the picture from the carriage, when it was brought in by Mrs Dawkins' maid, whom Laura had requested to attend her. Having placed the picture, the Italian retreated a few paces to examine the effect, and then said – 'Ah! I do see – dis is leetle after de manner of Correggio – very pretty – very pretty, indeed.' The hopes of Laura rose high at these encouraging words; but suffered instantaneous depression, when he continued, with a shake of his head, 'but 'tis too new – quite moderne – painted in dis contri. – Painter no name – de picture may be all so good as it vil – it never vil sell. Me sorry,' added he, reading Laura's look of disappointment, 'me sorry displease such bell angela; but cannot buy.' 'I am sorry for it,' said Laura, and sighing heavily, she courtesied and withdrew.
Her next attempt was upon a little pert-looking man, in a foreign dress, and spectacles. 'Hum,' said he, 'a picture to sell – well, let us see't. – There, that's the light. Hum – a poor thing enough – no keeping – no costûme. Well, Ma'am, what do you please to ask for this?' 'I should be glad, Sir, that you would fix a price on it.' 'Hum – well – let me think – I suppose five guineas will be very fair.' At this proposal, the blood mounted to the cheeks of Laura; and she raised her eyes to examine whether the proposer really had the confidence to look her in the face. But finding his eye steadily fixed on her, she transferred her suspicions from the honesty of the bidder to the merits of her piece, and mildly answering, 'I shall not, I think, be disposed to part with it at that price,' she motioned to the servant to carry it back to the coach.
One trial still remained; and Laura ordered her carriage to an obscure street in the city. She was very politely received by Mr Collins, – a young man who had himself been an artist; but whom bad health had obliged to relinquish a profession which he loved. 'This piece has certainly great merit,' said he, after examining it, 'and most gladly would I have made the purchase; but my little room is at present overstocked, and, to own the truth to you, the picture is worth more than my wife and four little ones can afford to venture upon speculation, and such is the purchase of the work, however meritorious, of an unknown artist. But if you were to place it in the exhibition, I have no doubt that it would speedily find a purchaser.' The prospect which the Exhibition held forth, was far too distant to meet the present exigency; for Laura well knew that her father would find almost immediate occasion for the price of her labours; and with a heavy sigh she returned to her carriage.
What now remained but to return home with the subject of so much fruitless toil. Still, however, she determined to make one effort more, and returned to inquire of the printseller, whether he knew any other person to whom she could apply? He had before given his whole list, and could make no addition to it. But observing the expression of blank disappointment which overcast her face, he offered, if she would trust him with the picture, to place it where it would be seen by his customers, and expressed a belief that some of them might purchase it. Laura thankfully accepted the offer, and after depositing with him her treasure, which had lost much of its value in her eyes, and naming the price she expected, she returned home; making on her way as many sombrous reflections on the vanity and uncertainty of all sublunary pursuits, as ever were made by any young lady in her eighteenth year.
She sat down in her now solitary parlour – suffered dinner to be placed before her and removed, without knowing of what it consisted; and when the servant who brought it disappeared, began, like a true heroine, to vent her disappointment in tears. But soon recollecting that, though she had no joyful surprize awaiting her father, she might yet gladden it with a smiling welcome, she started up from her melancholy posture – bathed her eyes – placed the tea equipage – ordered the first fire of the season to displace the faded fennel in the chimney – arranged the apartment in the nicest order – and had just given to everything the greatest possible appearance of comfort, when her father arrived. She had need, however, of all her firmness, and of all the elation of conscious self-control, to resist the contagious depression of countenance and manner with which Captain Montreville accosted her. He had good reason for his melancholy. Mr Baynard, his early acquaintance, almost the only person known to him in this vast city, had that morning breathed his last. All access to his papers was of course at present impossible; and until a person could be chosen to arrange his affairs, it would be impracticable for Captain Montreville to ascertain whether there existed any voucher for the payment of the price of the annuity. Harassed by his repeated disappointments, and unendowed by nature with the unbending spirit that rises in disaster, he now declared to Laura his resolution to remain in London only till a person was fixed upon for the management of Mr Baynard's affairs – to lay before him the circumstances of his case – and then to return to Scotland, and trust to a correspondence for concluding the business.
At this moment nothing could have been further from Laura's wish than to quit London. She was unwilling to forfeit her remaining hope that her picture might find a purchaser, and a still stronger interest bound her to the place which was so soon to be the residence of Hargrave. But she saw the prudence of her father's determination – she felt the necessity of relinquishing a mode of life so unsuitable to his scanty income, and she cheerfully acquiesced in his proposal of returning home. Still some time must elapse, before their departure; and she indulged a hope, that ere that time expired, the produce of her labours might lighten their pecuniary difficulties.
Captain Montreville retired early; and Laura, wearied out with the toils and the disappointments of the day, gladly resigned herself to the sleep of innocence.
Laura was indebted partly to nature, but more to her own exertion, for that happy elasticity of spirit which easily casts off lighter evil, while it readily seizes, and fully enjoys, pleasure of moderate intensity, and of frequent attainment. Few of the lesser sorrows of youth can resist the cheering influence of early morn; and the petty miseries which, in the shades of evening, assume portentous size and colour, diminish wonderfully in the light of the new-risen sun. With recovered spirits, and reviving hopes, Laura awoke to joys which the worldly know not, – the joys of pious gratitude – of devout contemplation – of useful employment; and so far was her persevering spirit from failing under the disappointments of the preceding day, that she determined to begin a new picture from the moment she was settled at Glenalbert, to compose it with more care, and finish