It may be asked, if a woman of this character did not
attract the notice of the world. Her station, no less than
her modes of thinking, excluded her from the concourse of
the opulent and the gay. She kept herself in privacy, her
engagements confined her to her own fireside, and her
neighbors enjoyed no means of penetrating through that
obscurity in which she wrapt herself. There were, no
doubt, persons of her own sex, capable of estimating her
worth, and who could have hastened to raise so much merit
from the indigence to which it was condemned. She might,
at least, have found associates and friends, justly entitled to
her affection. But whether she were peculiarly unfortunate
in this respect, or whether it arose from a jealous and unbending
spirit that would remit none of its claims to respect,
and was backward in its overtures to kindness and intimacy,
it so happened that her hours were, for a long period, enlivened
by no companion but her father and her faithful Lucy.
The humbleness of her dwelling, her plain garb, and the
meanness of her occupation, were no passports to the favor of
the rich and vain. These, added to her youth and beauty,
frequently exposed her to insults, from which, though productive
for a time of mortification and distress, she, for the

[figure description] Page 070.[end figure description]

most part, extricated herself by her spirited carriage, and
presence of mind.

One incident of this kind it will be necessary to mention.
One evening her engagements carried her abroad. She
had proposed to return immediately, finding by experience
the danger that was to be dreaded by a woman young and
unprotected. Somewhat occurred that unavoidably lengthened
her stay, and she set out on her return at a late hour.
One of the other sex offered her his guardianship, but this
she declined, and poceeded homeward alone.

Her way lay through streets but little inhabited, and
whose few inhabitants were of the profligate class. She
was conscious of the inconveniences to which she was exposed,
and therefore tripped along with all possible haste.
She had not gone far before she perceived, through the
dusk, two men standing near a porch before her. She had
gone too far to recede or change her course without exciting
observation, and she flattered herself that the persons
would behave with decency. Encouraged by these reflections,
and somewhat hastening her pace, she went on. As
soon as she came opposite the place where they stood, one
of them threw himself round, and caught her arm, exclaiming,
in a broad tone, “Whither so fast, my love, at this time
of night?” The other, at the same time, threw his arms
round her waist, crying out, “A pretty prize, by G—; just
in the nick of time.”

They were huge and brawny fellows, in whose grasp her
feeble strength was annihilated. Their motions were so
sudden, that she had not time to escape by flight. Her
struggles merely furnished them with a subject of laughter.
He that held her waist, proceeded to pollute her cheeks
with his kisses, and drew her into the porch. He tore her
from the grasp of him who first seized her, who seemed to
think his property invaded, and said, in a surly tone; “What
now, Jemmy? Damn your heart, d'ye think I'll be fobbed?
Have done with your slabbering, Jemmy. First come, first
served;” and seemed disposed to assert his claims by force.

To this brutality, Constantia had nothing to oppose but
fruitless struggles and shrieks for help. Succor was, fortunately,
at hand. Her exclamations were heard by a person
across the street, who instantly ran, and with some

[figure description] Page 071.[end figure description]

difficulty disengaged her from the grasp of the ruffians. He
accompanied her the rest of the way, bestowed on her
every polite attention, and, though pressed to enter the
house, declined the invitation. She had no opportunity of
examining the appearance of her new friend. This, the
darkness of the night and her own panic, prevented.

Next day a person called upon her whom she instantly
recognized to be her late protector. He came with some
message from his sister. His manners were simple and unostentatious,
and breathed the genuine spirit of civility.
Having performed his commission, and once more received
the thanks which she poured forth with peculiar warmth,
for his last night's interposition, he took his leave.

The name of this man was Balfour. He was middleaged,
of a figure neither elegant nor ungainly, and an aspect
that was mild and placid, but betrayed few marks of intelligence.
He was an adventurer from Scotland, whom a
strict adherence to the maxims of trade had rendered opulent.
He was governed by the principles of mercantile
integrity in all his dealings, and was affable and kind, without
being generous, in his treatment of inferiors. He was
a stranger to violent emotions of any kind, and his intellectual
acquisitions were limited to his own profession.

His demeanor was tranquil and uniform. He was sparing
of words, and these were uttered in the softest manner. In
all his transactions, he was sedate and considerate. In his
dress and mode of living, there were no appearances of parsimony,
but there were, likewise, as few traces of profusion.

His sister had shared in his prosperity. As soon as his
affairs would permit, he sent for her to Scotland, where she
had lived in a state little removed from penury, and had for
some years, been vested with the superintendence of his
household. There was a considerable resemblance between
them in person and character. Her profession, or those
arts in which her situation had compelled her to acquire
skill; had not an equal tendency to enlarge the mind, as
those of her brother, but the views of each were limited to
one set of objects. His superiority was owing, not to any
inherent difference, but to accident.

Balfour's life had been a model of chasteness and regularity:
though this was owing more to constitutional coldness

[figure description] Page 072.[end figure description]

and a frugal spirit, than to virtuous forbearance; but, in his
schemes for the future, he did not exclude the circumstance
of marriage. Having attained a situation secure, as the
nature of human affairs will admit, from the chances of poverty,
the way was sufficiently prepared for matrimony. His
thoughts had been for some time employed in the selection
of a suitable companion, when this rencounter happened with
Miss Dudley.

Balfour was not destitute of those feelings which are called
into play by the sight of youth and beauty in distress.
This incident was not speedily forgotten. The emotions
produced by it were new to him. He reviewed them oftener,
and with more complacency, than any which he had
before experienced. They afforded him so much satisfaction,
that, in order to preserve them undiminished, he resolved
to repeat his visit. Constantia treated him as one from
whom she had received a considerable benefit. Her sweetness
and gentleness were uniform, and Balfour found that
her humble roof promised him more happiness than his own
fireside, or the society of his professional brethren.

He could not overlook, in the course of such reflections
as these, the question relative to marriage, and speedily determined
to solicit the honor of her hand. He had not
decided without his usual foresight and deliberation; nor
had he been wanting in the accuracy of his observations and
inquiries. Those qualifications, indeed, which were of chief
value in his eyes, lay upon the surface. He was no judge
of her intellectual character, or of the loftiness of her morality.
Not even the graces of person, or features, or manners,
attracted much of his attention. He remarked her admirable
economy of time, and money, and labor, the simplicity
of her dress, her evenness of temper, and her love of seclusion.
These were essential requisites of a wife in his apprehension.
The insignificance of his own birth, the lowness
of his original fortune, and the efficacy of industry and temperance
to confer and maintain wealth, had taught him indifference
as to birth or fortune in his spouse. His moderate
desires in this respect were gratified, and he was anxious
only for a partner that would aid him in preserving,
rather than in enlarging his property. He esteemed himself

[figure description] Page 073.[end figure description]

eminently fortunate in meeting with one in whom every matrimonial
qualification concentred.

He was not deficient in modesty, but he fancied that, on
this occasion, there was no possibility of miscarriage. He
held her capacity in deep veneration, but this circumstance
rendered him more secure of success. He conceived this
union to be even more eligible with regard to her than to
himself; and confided in the rectitude of her understanding,
for a decision favorable to his wishes.

Before any express declaration was made, Constantia
easily predicted the event from the frequency of his visits, and
the attentiveness of his manners. It was no difficult task to
ascertain this man's character. Her modes of thinking were,
in few respects, similar to those of her lover. She was eager
to investigate, in the first place, the attributes of his mind.
His professional and household maxims were not of inconsiderable
importance, but they were subordinate considerations.
In the poverty of his discourse and ideas, she quickly
found reasons for determining her conduct.

Marriage she had but little considered, as it is in itself.
What are the genuine principles of that relation, and what
conduct with respect to it, is prescribed to rational beings, by
their duty, she had not hitherto investigated. But she was
not backward to inquire what are the precepts of duty, in
her own particular case. She knew herself to be young;
she was sensible of the daily enlargement of her knowledge;
every day contributed to rectify some error or confirm some
truth. These benefits she owed to her situation, which,
whatever were its evils, gave her as much freedom from restraint
as is consistent with the state of human affairs. Her
poverty fettered her exertions, and circumscribed her pleasures.
Poverty, therefore, was an evil, and the reverse of
poverty to be desired. But riches were not barren of constraint,
and its advantages might be purchased at too dear a
rate.

Allowing that the wife is enriched by marriage, how humiliating
were the conditions annexed to it in the present
case? The company of one with whom we have no sympathy,
nor sentiments in common, is, of all species of solitude,
the most loathsome and dreary. The nuptial life is

[figure description] Page 074.[end figure description]

attended with peculiar aggravations, since the tie is infrangible,
and the choice of a more suitable companion, if such a
one should offer, is forever precluded. The hardships of
wealth are not incompensated by some benefits, but these
benefits, false and hollow as they are, cannot be obtained by
marriage. Her acceptance of Balfour would merely aggravate
her indigence.

Now she was at least mistress of the product of her own
labor. Her tasks were toilsome, but the profits, though
slender, were sure, and she administered her little property
in what manner she pleased. Marriage would annihilate this
power. Henceforth she would be bereft even of personal
freedom. So far from possessing property, she herself would
become the property of another.

She was not unaware of the consequences flowing from
differences of capacity; and, that power, to whomsoever legally
granted, will be exercised by the most addressful; but
she derived no encouragement from these considerations.
She would not stoop to gain her end by the hateful arts of
the sycophant; and was too wise to place an unbounded reliance
on the influence of truth. The character, likewise, of
this man sufficiently exempted him from either of those influences.

She did not forget the nature of the altar vows. To abdicate
the use of her own understanding, was scarcely justifiable
in any case, but to vow an affection that was not felt,
and could not be compelled, and to promise obedience to
one, whose judgment was glaringly defective, were acts atrociously
criminal. Education, besides, had created in her an
insurmountable abhorrence of admitting to conjugal privileges,
the man who had no claim upon her love. It could not be
denied that a state of abundant accommodation was better
than the contrary, but this consideration, though in the most
rational estimate, of some weight, she was not so depraved
and effeminate as to allow to overweigh the opposite evils.
Homely liberty was better than splendid servitude.

Her resolution was easily formed, but there were certain
impediments in the way of its execution. These chiefly
arose from deference to the opinion, and compassion for the
infirmities of her father. He assumed no control over her
actions. His reflections in the present case, were rather

[figure description] Page 075.[end figure description]

understood than expressed. When uttered it was with the
mildness of equality, and the modesty of persuasion. It was
this circumstance that conferred upon them all their force.
His decision, on so delicate a topic, was not wanting in sagacity
and moderation; but, as a man, he had his portion of
defects, and his frame was enfeebled by disease and care;
yet he set no higher value on the ease and independence of
his former condition, than any man of like experience.
He could not endure to exist on the fruits of his daughter's
labor. He ascribed her decision to a spirit of excessive refinement,
and was, of course, disposed to give little quarter
to maiden scruples. They were phantoms, he believed,
which experience would dispel. His morality, besides, was
of a much more flexible kind; and the marriage vows were,
in his opinion, formal and unmeaning, and neither in themselves,
nor in the apprehension of the world, accompanied
with any rigorous obligation. He drew more favorable omens
from the known capacity of his daughter, and the flexibility
of her lover.

She demanded his opinion and advice. She listened to
his reasonings, and revolved them with candor and impartiality.
She stated her objections with simplicity, but the difference
of age and sex was sufficient to preclude agreement.
Arguments were of no use but to prolong the debate; but,
happily, the magnanimity of Mr. Dudley would admit of no
sacrifice. Her opinions, it is true, were erroneous; but he
was willing that she should regulate her conduct by her own
conceptions of right, and not by those of another. To refuse
Balfour's offers was an evil, but an evil inexpressibly
exceeded by that of accepting them contrary to her own
sense of propriety.

Difficulties, likewise, arose from the consideration of what
was due to the man who had already benefited her, and
who, in this act, intended to confer upon her further benefit.
These, though the source of some embarrassments, were not
sufficient to shake her resolution. Balfour could not understand
her principal objections. They were of a size altogether
disproportioned to his capacity. Her moral speculations
were quite beyond the sphere of his reflections. She
could not expatiate, without a breach of civility, on the

[figure description] Page 076.[end figure description]

disparity of their minds, and yet this was the only or principal
ground on which she had erected her scruples.

Her father loved her too well not to be desirous of relieving
her from a painful task, though undertaken without necessity,
and contrary to his opinion. Refer him to me,
said he; I will make the best of the matter, and render your
refusal as palatable as possible, but do you authorize me to
make it absolute, and without appeal?—

My dear father! how good you are! but that shall be
my province. If I err, let the consequences of my mistake
be confined to myself. It would be cruel indeed, to make
you the instrument in a transaction which your judgment disapproves.
My reluctance was a weak and foolish thing.
Strange, indeed, if the purity of my motives will not bear me
out on this, as it has done on many more arduous occasions.

Well, be it so; that is best I believe. Ten to one but I,
with my want of eyes, would blunder, while yours will be of
no small use, in a contest with a lover. They will serve you
to watch the transitions in his placid physiognomy, and overpower
his discontents.

She was aware of the inconveniences to which this resolution
would subject her, but since they were unavoidable,
she armed herself with the requisite patience. Her apprehensions
were not without reason. More than one conference
was necessary to convince him of her meaning, and in
order to effect her purpose, she was obliged to behave with
so much explicitness, as to hazard giving him offence. This
affair was productive of no small vexation. He had put too
much faith in the validity of his pretensions, and the benefits
of perseverance, to be easily shaken off.

This decision was not borne by him with as much patience
as she wished. He deemed himself unjustly treated, and
his resentment exceeded those bounds of moderation which
he prescribed to himself on all other occasions. From his
anger, however, there was not much to be dreaded, but, unfortunately,
his sister partook of his indignation and indulged
her petulance, which was enforced by every gossiping and
tatling propensity, to the irreparable disadvantage of Constantia.

She owed her support to her needle. She was dependent
therefore on the caprice of customers. This caprice

[figure description] Page 077.[end figure description]

was swayable by every breath, and paid a merely subordinate
regard, in the choice of workwomen, to the circumstances
of skill, cheapness and diligence. In consequence
of this, her usual sources of subsistence began to fail.

Indigence, as well as wealth, is comparative. He, indeed,
must be wretched, whose food, clothing and shelter are limited,
both in kind and quantity, by the standard of mere necessity;
who, in the choice of food, for example, is governed
by no consideration but its cheapness, and its capacity to
sustain nature. Yet to this degree of wretchedness was Miss
Dudley reduced.

As her means of subsistence began to decay, she reflected
on the change of employment that might become necessary.
She was mistress of no lucrative art, but that which now
threatened to be useless. There was but one avenue
through which she could hope to escape from the pressure
of absolute want. This, she regarded with an aversion,
that nothing but extreme necessity, and the failure of every
other expedient, would be able to subdue. This was the
hiring herself as a servant. Even that could not answer all
her purposes. If a subsistence were provided by it for
herself, whither should her father, and her Lucy betake
themselves for support.

Hitherto her labor had been sufficient to shut out famine
and the cold. It is true she had been cut off from all the
direct means of personal or mental gratification; but her
constitution had exempted her from the insalutary effects of
sedentary application. She could not tell how long she
could enjoy this exemption, but it was absurd to anticipate
those evils which might never arrive. Meanwhile, her situation
was not destitute of comfort. The indirect means of
intellectual improvement, in conversation and reflection, the
inexpensive amusement of singing, and, above all, the consciousness
of performing her duty, and maintaining her independence
inviolate, were still in her possession. Her
lodging was humble, and her fare frugal, but these, temperance
and a due regard to the use of money, would require
from the most opulent.

Now, retrenchments must be made even from this penurious
provision. Her exertions might somewhat defer, but

[figure description] Page 078.[end figure description]

could not prevent the ruin of her unhappy family. Their
landlord was a severe exacter of his dues. The day of
quarterly payment was past, and he had not failed in his
usual punctuality. She was unable to satisfy his demands,
and Mr. Dudley was officially informed, that unless payment
was made before a day fixed, resort would be had to the
law, in that case made and provided.

This seemed to be the completion of their misfortunes.
It was not enough to soften the implacability of their landlord.
A respite might possibly be obtained from this harsh
sentence. Intreaties might prevail upon him to allow of
their remaining under this roof for some time longer; but
shelter at this inclement season was not enough. Without
fire they must perish with the cold; and fuel could be procured
only for money, of which the last shilling was expended.
Food was no less indispensable, and, their credit being
gone, not a loaf could be extorted from the avarice of the
bakers in the neighborhood.

The sensations produced by this accumulation of distress
may be more easily conceived than described. Mr. Dudley
sunk into despair, when Lucy informed him that the
billet of wood she was putting on the fire was the last.
Well, said he, the game is up. Where is my daughter?—
The answer was that she was up stairs.

Why, there she has been this hour. Tell her to come
down and warm herself. She must needs be cold and here
is a cheerful blaze. I feel it myself. Like the lightning
that precedes death, it beams thus brightly, though, in a few
moments, it will be extinguished forever. Let my darling
come, and partake of its comforts before they expire.

Constantia had retired in order to review her situation,
and devise some expedients that might alleviate it. It was
a sore extremity to which she was reduced. Things had
come to a desperate pass, and the remedy required must
be no less desperate. It was impossible to see her father
perish. She herself would have died before she would
have condescended to beg. It was not worth prolonging a
life which must subsist upon alms. She would have wandered
into the fields at dusk, have seated herself upon an
unfrequented bank, and serenely waited the approach of
that death, which the rigors of the season would have

[figure description] Page 079.[end figure description]

rendered sure. But, as it was, it became her to act in a
very different manner.

During her father's prosperity, some mercantile intercourse
had taken place between him and a merchant of this
city. The latter, on some occasion, had spent a few nights
at her father's house. She was greatly charmed with the
humanity that shone forth in his conversation and behavior.
From that time to this, all intercourse had ceased. She was
acquainted with the place of his abode, and knew him to be
affluent. To him she determined to apply as a suppliant in
behalf of her father. She did not inform Mr. Dudley of
this intention, conceiving it best to wait till the event had
been ascertained, for fear of exciting fallacious expectations.
She was further deterred by the apprehension of awakening
his pride, and bringing on herself an absolute prohibition.

She arrived at the door of Mr. Melbourne's house, and
inquiring for the master of it, was informed that he had
gone out of town, and was not expected to return within a
week.

Her scheme, which was by no means unplausible, was
thus completely frustrated. There was but one other resource,
on which she had already deliberated, and to which
she had determined to apply, if that should fail. That was
to claim assistance from the superintendents of the poor.
She was employed in considering to which of them, and in
what manner she should make her application, when she
turned the corner of Lombard and Second streets. That
had scarcely been done, when, casting her eyes mournfully
round her, she caught a glimpse of a person whom she instantly
recognised, passing into the market place. She
followed him with quick steps, and, on a second examination,
found that she had not been mistaken. This was no other
than Thomas Craig, to whose malignity and cunning, all her
misfortunes were imputable.

She was at first uncertain what use to make of this discovery.
She followed him almost instinctively, and saw him
at length enter the Indian Queen Tavern. Here she stopped.
She entertained a confused conception, that some
beneficial consequences might be extracted from this event.
In the present hurry of her thoughts she could form no satisfactory
conclusion; but it instantly occurred to her that it

[figure description] Page 080.[end figure description]

would, at least be proper to ascertain the place of his abode.
She stept into the inn, and made the suitable inquiries. She
was informed that the gentleman had come from Baltimore,
a month before, and had since resided at that house. How
soon he meant to leave the city, her informant was unable
to tell.

Having gained this intelligence, she returned home, and
once more shut herself in her chamber to meditate on this
new posture of affairs.