Charming fellow!
Cl. O what difficulties has one fatal step involved me in--but there is no necessity for such an appeal to any body. I am resolved on my measures.
Capt. Absolutely resolved, Madam?
Cl. I am.
Capt. What shall I say to your uncle Harlowe, Madam?--Poor gentleman!
how will he be surprised!--You see, Mr. Lovelace--you see, Sir,--turning to me with a flourishing hand--but you may thank yourself--and admirably stalked he from us.
True, by my soul, thought I. I traversed the room, and bit my unpersuasive lips, now upper, now under, for vexation.
He made a profound reverence to her--and went to the window, where lay his hat and whip; and, taking them up, opened the door. Child, said he, to some body he saw, pray order my servant to bring my horse to the door--
Lovel. You won"t go, Sir--I hope you won"t!--I am the unhappiest man in the world!--You won"t go--yet, alas!--But you won"t go, Sir!--there may be yet hopes that Lady Betty may have some weight--
Capt. Dear Mr. Lovelace! and may not my worthy friend, and affectionate uncle, hope for some influence upon his daughter-niece?--But I beg pardon --a letter will always find me disposed to serve the lady, and that as well for her sake as for the sake of my dear friend.
She had thrown herself into her chair: her eyes cast down: she was motionless, as in a profound study.
The Captain bowed to her again: but met with no return to his bow. Mr.
Lovelace, said he, (with an air of equality and independence,) I am your"s.
Still the dear unaccountable sat as immovable as a statue; stirring neither hand, foot, head, nor eye--I never before saw any one in so profound a reverie in so waking a dream.
He pa.s.sed by her to go out at the door she sat near, though the pa.s.sage by the other door was his direct way; and bowed again. She moved not.
I will not disturb the lady in her meditations, Sir.--Adieu, Mr. Lovelace --no farther, I beseech you.
She started, sighing--Are you going, Sir?
Capt. I am, Madam. I could have been glad to do you service; but I see it is not in my power.
She stood up, holding out one hand, with inimitable dignity and sweetness --I am sorry you are going, Sir!--can"t help it--I have no friend to advise with--Mr. Lovelace has the art (or good fortune, perhaps I should call it) to make himself many.--Well, Sir--if you will go, I can"t help it.
Capt. I will not go, Madam; his eyes twinkling. [Again seized with a fit of humanity!] I will not go, if my longer stay can do you either service or pleasure. What, Sir, [turning to me,] what, Mr. Lovelace, was your expedient;--perhaps something may be offered, Madam--
She sighed, and was silent.
REVENGE, invoked I to myself, keep thy throne in my heart. If the usurper LOVE once more drive thee from it, thou wilt never again regain possession!
Lovel. What I had thought of, what I had intended to propose, [and I sighed,] was this, that the dear creature, if she will not forgive me, as she promised, will suspend the displeasure she has conceived against me, till Lady Betty arrives.--That lady may be the mediatrix between us.
This dear creature may put herself into her protection, and accompany her down to her seat in Oxfordshire. It is one of her Ladyship"s purposes to prevail on her supposed new niece to go down with her. It may pa.s.s to every one but to Lady Betty, and to you, Captain Tomlinson, and to your friend Mr. Harlowe (as he desires) that we have been some time married: and her being with my relations will amount to a proof to James Harlowe that we are; and our nuptials may be privately, and at this beloved creature"s pleasure, solemnized; and your report, Captain, authenticated.
Capt. Upon my honour, Madam, clapping his hand upon his breast, a charming expedient!--This will answer every end.
She mused--she was greatly perplexed--at last, G.o.d direct me! said she: I know not what to do--a young unfriended creature! Whom can I have to advise with?--Let me retire, if I can retire.
She withdrew with slow and trembling feet, and went up to her chamber.
For Heaven"s sake, said the penetrated varlet [his hands lifted up]; for Heaven"s sake, take compa.s.sion upon this admirable woman!--I cannot proceed--she deserves all things--
Softly!--d--n the fellow!--the women are coming in.
He sobbed up his grief--turned about--hemm"d up a more manly accent--Wipe thy cursed eyes--He did. The sunshine took place on one cheek, and spread slowly to the other, and the fellow had his whole face again.
The women all three came in, led by that ever-curious Miss Rawlins. I told them, that the lady was gone up to consider of every thing: that we had hopes of her. And such a representation we made of all that had pa.s.sed, as brought either tacit or declared blame upon the fair perverse for hardness of heart and over-delicacy.
The widow Bevis, in particular, put out one lip, tossed up her head, wrinkled her forehead, and made such motions with her now lifted-up, now cast-down eyes, as showed that she thought there was a great deal of perverseness and affectation in the lady. Now-and-then she changed her censuring looks to looks of pity of me--but (as she said) she loved not to aggravate!--A poor business, G.o.d help"s! shrugging up her shoulders, to make such a rout about! And then her eyes laughed heartily-- Indulgence was a good thing! Love was a good thing!--but too much was too much!
Miss Rawlins, however, declared, after she had called the widow Bevis, with a prudish simper, a comical gentlewoman! that there must be something in our story, which she could not fathom; and went from us into a corner, and sat down, seemingly vexed that she could not.
LETTER x.x.xV
MR. LOVELACE [IN CONTINUATION.]
The lady staid longer above than we wished; and I hoping that (lady-like) she only waited for an invitation to return to us, desired the widow Bevis, in the Captain"s name, (who wanted to go to town,) to request the favour of her company.
I cared not to send up either Miss Rawlins or Mrs. Moore on the errand, lest my beloved should be in a communicative disposition; especially as she had hinted at an appeal to Miss Rawlins; who, besides, has such an unbounded curiosity.
Mrs. Bevis presently returned with an answer (winking and pinking at me) that the lady would follow her down.
Miss Rawlins could not but offer to retire, as the others did. Her eyes, however, intimated that she had rather stay. But they not being answered as she seemed to wish, she went with the rest, but with slower feet; and had hardly left the parlour, when the lady entered it by the other door; a melancholy dignity in her person and air.
She sat down. Pray, Mr. Tomlinson, be seated.
He took his chair over against her. I stood behind her"s that I might give him agreed-upon signals, should there be occasion for them.
As thus--a wink of the left eye was to signify push that point, Captain.
A wink of the right, and a nod, was to indicate approbation of what he had said.
My fore-finger held up, and biting my lip, get off of that, as fast as possible.
A right-forward nod, and a frown, swear to it, Captain.
My whole spread hand, to take care not to say too much on that particular subject.
A scowling brow, and a positive nod, was to bid him rise in temper.
And these motions I could make, even those with my hand, without holding up my arm, or moving my wrist, had the women been there; as, when the motions were agreed upon, I knew not but they would.
She hemmed--I was going to speak, to spare her supposed confusion: but this lady never wants presence of mind, when presence of mind is necessary either to her honour, or to that conscious dignity which distinguishes her from all the women I ever knew.
I have been considering, said she, as well as I was able, of every thing that has pa.s.sed; and of all that has been said; and of my unhappy situation. I mean no ill, I wish no ill, to any creature living, Mr.
Tomlinson. I have always delighted to draw favourable rather than unfavourable conclusions; sometimes, as it has proved, for very bad hearts. Censoriousness, whatever faults I have, is not naturally my fault.--But, circ.u.mstanced as I am, treated as I have been, unworthily treated, by a man who is full of contrivances, and glories in them--