# Marriage (Ferrier)/Chapter XXIII

"This sort of person is skilled to assume the appearance of all virtues and all good qualities; but their favourite mask is universal benevolence. And the reason why they prefer this disguise to all others, is, that it tends to conceal its opposite, which is, indeed, their true character—an universal selfishness."
—KNOX'S Essays.
ALTHOUGH, on her return, Mary read her mother's displeasure in her looks, and was grieved at again having incurred it, she yet felt it a duty towards her father to persevere in her attentions to his aunt. She was old, poor, and unknown, plain in her person, weak in her intellects, vulgar in her manners; but she was related to her by ties more binding than the laws of fashion or the rules of taste. Even these disadvantages, which, to a worldly mind, would have served as excuses for neglecting her, to Mary's generous nature were so many incentives to treat her with kindness and attention. Faithful to her promise, therefore, she repaired to Milsom Street, and found her aunt all impatience for her arrival, with the letter so firmly grasped in both hands, that she seemed almost afraid to trust anyone with a glance at the direction.
"This letter, Mary," said she, when they were seated in the carriage, "will be a great thing for me, and especially for you. I got it from Mrs. Menzies, through Mrs. M'Drone, whose friend, Mrs. Campbell's half-sister, Miss Grant, is a great friend of Mrs. Fox's, and she says she is a most charming woman. Of course she is no friend to the great Fox; or you know it would have been very odd in me, with Sir Sampson's principles, and my poor brother's principles, and all our own principles, to have visited her. But she's quite of a different family of Foxes: she's a Fox of Peckwell, it seems—a most amiable woman, very rich, and prodigiously charitable. I am sure we have been most fortunate in getting a letter to such a woman." And with this heartfelt ejaculation they found themselves at Mrs. Fox's.
Everything corresponded with the account of this lady's wealth and consequence; the house was spacious and handsomely furnished, with its due proportion of livery servants; and they were ushered into a sitting-room which was filled with all the 'wonders of nature and art,—Indian shells, inlaid cabinets, ivory boxes, stuffed birds, old china, Chinese mandarins, stood disclosed in all their charms. The lady of this mansion was seated at table covered with works of a different description: it exhibited the various arts of woman, in regular gradation, from the painted card-rack and gilded firescreen, to the humble thread-paper and shirt-button. Mrs. Fox was a fine, fashionable-looking woman, with a smooth skin, and still smoother address. She received her visitors with that overstrained complaisance which, to Mary's nicer tact, at once discovered that all was hollow; but poor Miss Grizzy was scarcely seated before she was already transfixed with admiration at Mrs. Fox's politeness, and felt as if her whole life would be too short to repay such kindness. Compliments over—the weather, etc., discussed, Mrs. Fox began:
"You must be surprised, ladies, to see me in the midst of such a litter, but you find me busy arranging the works of some poor protégées of mine. A most unfortunate family!—I have given them what little instruction I could in these little female works; and you see," putting a gaudy work-basket into Grizzy's hands, "it is astonishing what progress they have made. My friends have been most liberal in their purchases of these trifles, but I own I am a wretched beggar. They are in bad hands when they are in mine, poor souls! The fact is, I can give, but I cannot beg. I tell them they really must find somebody else to dispose of their little labours—somebody who has more of what I call the gift of begging than I am blest with."
Tears of admiration stood in Grizzy's eye; her hand was in her pocket. She looked to Mary, but Mary's hands and eyes betrayed no corresponding emotions; she felt only disgust at the meanness and indelicacy of the mistress of such a mansion levying contributions from the stranger within her door.
Mrs. Fox proceeded: "That most benevolent woman Miss Gull was here this morning, and bought no less than seven of these sweet little pincushions. I would fain have dissuaded her from taking so many—it really seemed such a stretch of virtue; but she said, 'My dear Mrs. Fox, how can one possibly spend their money better than in doing a good action, and at the same time enriching themselves?'"
Grizzy's purse was in her hand. "I declare that's very true. I never thought of that before; and I'm certain Lady Maclaughlan will say the very same; and I'm sure she will be delighted—I've no doubt of that—to take a pincushion; and each of my sisters I'm certain, will take one, though we have all plenty of pincushions; and I'll take one to myself, though I have three, I'm sure, that I've never used yet."
"My dear Miss Douglas, you really are, I could almost say, too good. Two and two's four, and one's five—five half-crowns! My poor protégées! you will really be the making of their fortune!"
Grizzy, with trembling hands, and a face flushed with conscious virtue, drew forth the money from her little hoard.
But Mrs. Fox did not quit her prey so easily. "If any of your friends are in want of shirt-buttons, Miss Douglas, I would fain recommend those to them. They are made by a poor woman in whom I take some interest, and are far superior to any that are to be had from the shops. They are made from the very best materials. Indeed, I take care of that, as" (in a modest whisper) "I furnish her with the material myself; but the generality of those you get to purchase are made from old materials. I've ascertained that, and it's a fact you may rely upon."
Poor Grizzy's hair stood on end, to hear of such depravity in a sphere where she had never even suspected it; but, for the honour of her country, she flattered herself such practices were there unknown; and she was entering upon a warm vindication of the integrity of Scotch shirt-buttons, when Mrs. Fox coolly observed—
"Indeed, our friend Miss Grant was so conscious of the great superiority of these buttons over any others, that she bespoke thirty-six dozen of them to take to Scotland with her. In fact, they are the real good old-fashioned shirt-buttons, such as I have heard my mother talk of; and for all that, I make a point of my poor woman selling them a penny a dozen below the shop price; so that in taking twelve dozen, which is the common quantity, there is a shilling saved at once."
Grizzy felt as if she would be the saving of the family by the purchase of these incomparable shirt buttons, and, putting down her five shillings, became the happy possessor of twelve dozen of them.
Fresh expressions of gratitude and admiration ensued, till Grizzy's brain began to whirl even more rapidly than usual, at the thought of the deeds she had done.
"And now," said Mrs. Fox, observing her eyes in a fine frenzy rolling from her lapful of pincushions and shirt buttons, to a mandarin nearly as large as life, "perhaps, my dear Miss Douglas, you will do me the favour to take a look of my little collection."
"Favour!" thought Grizzy; "what politeness!" and she protested there was nothing she liked so much as to look at everything, and that it would be the greatest favour to show her anything. The mandarin was made to shake his head—a musical snuffbox played its part—and a variety of other expensive toys were also exhibited.
Mary's disgust increased. "And this woman," thought she, "professes to be charitable amidst all this display of selfish extravagance. Probably the price of one of these costly baubles would have provided for the whole of these poor people for whom she affects so much compassion, without subjecting her to the meanness of turning her house into a beggar's repository." And she walked away to the other end of the room to examine some fine scriptural paintings.
"Here," said Mrs. Fox to her victim, as she unlocked a superb cabinet, "is what I value more than my whole collection put together. It is my specimens of Scotch pebbles; and I owe them solely to the generosity and good-will of my Scotch friends. I assure you that is a proud reflection to me. I am a perfect enthusiast in Scotch pebbles, and, I may say, in Scotch people. In fact, I am an enthusiast in whatever I am interested in; and at present, I must own, my heart is set upon making a complete collection of Scotch pebbles."
Grizzy began to feel a sort of tightness at her throat, at which was affixed a very fine pebble brooch pertaining to Nicky, but lent to Grizzy, to enable her to make a more distinguished figure in the gay world.
"Oh!" thought she, "what a pity this brooch is Nicky's, and not mine; I would have given it to this charming Mrs. Fox. Indeed, I don't see how I can be off giving it to her, even although it is Nicky's."
"And, by-the-bye," exclaimed Mrs. Fox, as if suddenly struck with the sight of the brooch, "that seems a very fine stone of yours. I wonder I did not observe it sooner; but, indeed, pebbles are thrown away in dress. May I beg a nearer view of it?"
Grizzy's brain was now all on fire. On the one hand there was the glory of presenting the brooch to such a polite, charitable, charming woman; on the other, there was the fear of Nicky's indignation. But then it was quite thrown away upon Nicky—she had no cabinet, and Mrs. Fox had declared that pebbles were quite lost anywhere but in cabinets, and it was a thousand pities that Nicky's brooch should be lost. All these thoughts Grizzy revolved with her usual clearness, as she unclasped the brooch, and gave it into the hand of the collector.
"Bless me, my dear Miss Douglas, this is really a very fine stone! I had no conception of it when I saw it sticking in your throat. It looks quite a different thing in the hand; it is a species I am really not acquainted with. I have nothing at all similar to it in my poor collection. Pray, can you tell me the name of it, and where it is found, that I may at least endeavour to procure a piece of it."
"I'm sure I wish to goodness my sister Nicky was here—I'm certain she would—though, to be sure, she has a great regard for it; for it was found on the Glenfern estate the very day my grandfather won his plea against Drimsydie; and we always called it the lucky stone from that."
"The lucky stone! what a delightful name! I shall never think myself in luck till I can procure a piece of your lucky stone. I protest, I could almost go to Scotland on purpose. Oh, you dear lucky stone!" kissing it with rapture.
"I'm sure—I'm almost certain—indeed, I'm convinced, if my sister Nicky was here, she would be delighted to offer— It would certainly be doing my sister Nicky the greatest favour, since you think it would be seen to so much greater advantage in your cabinet, which, for my own part, I have not the least doubt of, as certainly my sister Nicky very seldom wears it for fear of losing it, and it would be a thousand pities if it was lost; and, to be sure, it will be much safer locked up—nobody can dispute that—so I am sure it's by far the best thing my sister Nicky can do—for certainly a pebble brooch is quite lost as a brooch."
"My dear Miss Douglas! I am really quite ashamed! This is a perfect robbery, I protest! But I must insist upon your accepting some little token of my regard for Miss Nicky in return." Going to her charity-table, and returning with a set of painted thread-papers, "I must request the favour of you to present these to Miss Nicky, with my kind regards, and assure her I shall consider her lucky stone as the most precious jewel in my possession."
The whole of this scene had been performed with such rapidity that poor Grizzy was not prepared for the sudden metamorphose of Nicky's pebble brooch into a set of painted thread-papers, and some vague alarms began to float through her brain.
Mary now advanced, quite unconscious of what had been going on; and having whispered her aunt to take leave, they departed. They returned in silence. Grizzy was so occupied in examining her pincushions and counting her buttons, that she never looked up till the carriage stopped in Milsom Street.
Mary accompanied her in. Grizzy was all impatience to display her treasures; and as she hastily unfolded them, began to relate her achievements. Lady Maclaughlan heard her in silence, and a deep groan was all that she uttered; but Grizzy was too well accustomed to be groaned at, to be at all appalled, and went on, "But all that's nothing to the shirt-buttons, made of Mrs. Fox's own linen, and only five shillings the twelve dozen; and considering what tricks are played with shirt-buttons now—I assure you people require to be on their guard with shirt-buttons now."
"Pray, my dear, did you ever read the 'Vicar of Wakefield?'"
"The 'Vicar of Wakefield?' I—I think always I must have read it:—at any rate, I'm certain I've heard of it."
"Moses and his green spectacles was as one of the acts of Solomon compared to you and your shirtbuttons. Pray, which of you is it that wears shirts?"
"I declare that's very true—I wonder I did not think of that sooner—to be sure, none us wear shirts since my poor brother died."
"And what's become of her brooch?" turning to Mary, who for the first time observed the departure of Nicky's crown jewel.
"Oh, as to the brooch," cried Grizzy, "I'm certain you'll all think that well bestowed, and certainly it has been the saving of it." Upon which she commenced a most entangled narrative, from which the truth was at length extracted.
"Well," said Lady Maclaughlan, "there are two things God grant I may never become,—an, amateur in charity, and a collector of curiosities. No Christian can be either—both are pickpockets. I wouldn't keep company with my own mother were she either one or other—humph!"
Mary was grieved at the loss of the brooch; but Grizzy seemed more than ever satisfied with the exchange, as Sir Sampson had taken a fancy for the thread-papers, and it would amuse him for the rest of the day to be told every two minutes what they were intended for. Mary therefore left her quite happy, and returned to Beech Park.