Ellis, amazed, exclaimed, 'Can you mean, Madam,--can Lady Kendover mean--to propose my performing in public?' 'Precisely that. 'Tis the only way in the world to settle the business, and conquer all parties.' 'If so, Madam, they can never be conquered! for never, most certainly never, can I perform in public!' 'And why not? You'll do vastly well, I dare say. Why should you be so timid? 'Tis the best way to gain you admission into great houses; and if your performance is applauded, you'll have as many scholars as you like; and you may be as impertinent as you will. Your humility, now, won't make you half so many friends, as a set of airs and graces, then, will make you partizans.' 'I am much obliged to you for a recommendation so powerful, Madam,' answered Ellis, dryly; 'but I must entreat you to pardon my inability to avail myself of it; and my frank declaration, that my objections to this plan are unsuperable.' Miss Arbe only treated this as an ignorant diffidence, scarcely worth even derision, till Ellis solemnly and positively repeated, that her resolution not to appear in public would be unalterable: she then became seriously offended, and, slightly wishing her good night, ran down stairs; without making any other answer to her enquiry, concerning the request in her note, than that she knew not what it meant, and could not stay another moment. Ellis, now, was deeply disturbed. Her first impulse was to write to Lady Aurora, and implore her protection; but this wish was soon subdued by an invincible repugnance, to drawing so young a person into any clandestine correspondence. Yet there was no one else to whom she could apply. Alas! she cried, how wretched a situation!--And yet,--compared with what it might have been!--Ah! let me dwell upon that contrast!--What, then, can make me miserable? With revived vigour from this reflection, she resolved to assume courage to send in all her accounts, without waiting any longer for the precarious assistance of Miss Arbe. But what was to follow? When all difficulty should be over with respect to others, how was she to exist herself? Music, though by no means her only accomplishment, was the only one which she dared flatter herself to possess with sufficient knowledge, for the arduous attempt of teaching what she had learnt. Even in this, she had been frequently embarrassed; all she knew upon the subject had been acquired as a _diletante_, not studied as an artist; and though she was an elegant and truly superiour performer, she was nearly as deficient in the theoretical, as she was skilful in the practical part of the science of which she undertook to give lessons.