Miss Bydel, pouring forth a volley of interrogatories upon the intentions of Ellis, her expectations, and her means, would have remained; but she reaped so little satisfaction that, tired, at length, herself, she retreated; though not till she had fully caught the attention of Ellis, by the following words: 'I have been very ready, Mrs Ellis, to serve you in your distress; but I hope you won't forget that I always intended to be disbursed by your music teaching: so, if you don't do that any more, I can't see why you won't do this; that you may pay me.' She then took leave. Ellis was far more grieved than offended by this reprimand, which, however gross, did not seem unjust. To judge me, she cried, by my present appearance, my resisting this offer must be attributed to impertinence, ingratitude, or folly. And how can I expect to be judged but by what is seen, what is known? Who is willing to be so generous, who is capable to be so noble, as to believe, or even to conceive, that lonely distress, like mine, may call for respect and forbearance, as well as for pity and assistance?--Oh Lady Aurora!--sole charm, sole softener of my sufferings!--Oh liberal, high-minded Harleigh!--why are there so few to resemble you? And why must your virtues and your kindness, for me, be null? Why am I doomed to seek--so hardly--the support that flies me,--yet to fly the consolation that offers? CHAPTER XXXI The sole hope of Ellis for extrication from these difficulties hung now upon Mr Giles Arbe; whom she had begun to apprehend had forgotten his promise, when, to her great relief, he appeared. Nothing could be less exhilarating than his air and manner. He looked vexed and disconcerted; sat down without answering the civilities of her reception; sucked, for some minutes, the head of his stick; and then began talking to himself; from time to time ejaculating little broken phrases aloud, such as: 'It i'n't right!--It can't be right!--I wish they would not do such things.--Fair young creatures, too, some of them--Fie! fie!--They've no thought;--that's it!--they've no thought.--Mighty good hearts,--and very pretty faces, too, some of 'em;--but sad little empty heads,--except for their own pleasures;--no want of flappers[1] there!--Fie! fie!' [Footnote 1: Swift's Laputa.]