Upon further observation, nevertheless, her compassion for the milliner and the work-women somewhat diminished; for she found that their notions of probity were as lax as those of their customers were of justice; and saw that their own rudeness to those who had neither rank nor fortune, kept pace with the haughtiness which they were forced to support, from those by whom both were possessed. Every advantage was taken of inexperience and simplicity; every article was charged, not according to its value, but to the skill or ignorance of the purchaser; old goods were sold as if new; cheap goods as if dear; and ancient, or vulgar ornaments, were presented to the unpractised chafferer, as the very pink of the mode.
The rich and grand, who were capricious, difficult, and long in their examinations, because their time was their own; or rather, because it hung upon their hands; and whose utmost exertion, and sole practice of exercise consisted in strolling from a sofa to a carriage, were instantly, and with fulsome adulation, attended; while the meaner, or economical, whose time had its essential appropriations, and was therefore precious, were obliged to wait patiently for being served, till no coach was at the door, and every fine lady had sauntered away. And even then, they were scarcely heard when they spoke; scarcely shewn what they demanded; and scarcely thanked for what they purchased.
14
'And my uncle! My so amiable, so pious uncle? Where is he?'
15
'My lord the Bishop? Oh yes! yes! amiable indeed! pure! without blemish! He will soon, I believe, be here; or I shall have some intelligence from him; and then my fate will be known to me!'
16
'Ah, should he come hither! should I be blest again by his sight, I should feel, once more, even in the midst of my desolation, a sensation of joy such as thou, only, as yet, hast been able to re-awaken!'
17
''Tis at Brighthelmstone, then, 'tis here that we must dwell! Here, where I seem not yet, entirely, to have lost my darling boy! Oh my friend! my dearest, best loved friend! 'tis to him to my child, that I am indebted for seeing thee again! 'tis in visiting his remains that I have met my Juliet! Oh thou! my child! my angel! 'tis to thee, to thee, I am indebted for my friend! Even thy grave offers me comfort! even thy ashes desire to bless me! Thy remains, thy shadow, would do good, would bring peace to thy unhappy mother!'
18
Residing in, and, in 1795! at the foot of Norbury Park.