"And how? Pray tell me how?"
"To tell you-is death to me! yet I will tell you.-I have a right to your a.s.sistance,-you have deprived me of the only resource to which I could apply,-and therefore-"
"Pray, pray speak," cried I, putting my hand into my pocket; "they will be down stairs in a moment!"
"I will, Madam.-Can you-will you-I think you will!-may I then-" he stopped and paused; "say, will you"-then, suddenly turning from me, "Great Heaven, I cannot speak!" and he went back to the shop.
I now put my purse in my hand, and following him, said, "If, indeed, Sir, I can a.s.sist you, why should you deny me so great a satisfaction? Will you permit me to-"
I dared not go on; but with a countenance very much softened, he approached me and said, "Your voice, Madam, is the voice of compa.s.sion!-such a voice as these ears have long been strangers to!"
Just then young Branghton called out vehemently to me to come up stairs. I seized the opportunity of hastening away: and therefore saying, "Heaven, Sir, protect and comfort you!" I let fall my purse upon the ground, not daring to present it to him, and ran up stairs with the utmost swiftness.
Too well do I know you, my ever honoured Sir, to fear your displeasure for this action: I must, however, a.s.sure you, I shall need no fresh supply during my stay in town, as I am at little expense, and hope soon to return to Howard Grove.
Soon, did I say! when not a fortnight is yet expired of the long and tedious month I must linger out here!
I had many witticisms to endure from the Branghtons, upon account of my staying so long with the Scotch mope, as they call him; but I attended to them very little, for my whole heart was filled with pity and concern. I was very glad to find the Marybone scheme was deferred, another shower of rain having put a stop to the dissension upon this subject; the rest of the evening was employed in most violent quarrelling between Miss Polly and her brother, on account of the discovery made by the latter of the state of her apartment.
We came home early; and I have stolen from Madame Duval and M. Du Bois, who is here for ever, to write to my best friend.
I am most sincerely rejoiced, that this opportunity has offered for my contributing what little relief was in my power to this unhappy man; and I hope it will be sufficient to enable him to pay his debts to this pitiless family.
LETTER XLIX.
MR. VILLARS TO EVELINA. Berry Hill.
DISPLEASURE? my Evelina!-you have but done your duty; you have but shown that humanity without which I should blush to own my child. It is mine, however, to see that your generosity be not repressed by your suffering from indulging it; I remit to you, therefore, not merely a token of my approbation, but an acknowledgment of my desire to partic.i.p.ate in your charity.
O my child, were my fortune equal to my confidence in thy benevolence, with what transport should I, through thy means, devote it to the relief of indigent virtue! yet let us not repine at the limitation of our power; for while our bounty is proportioned to our ability, the difference of the greater or less donation can weigh but little in the scale of justice.
In reading your account of the misguided man, whose misery has so largely excited your compa.s.sion, I am led to apprehend that his unhappy situation is less the effect of misfortune than of misconduct. If he is reduced to that state of poverty represented by the Branghtons, he should endeavour, by activity and industry, to retrieve his affairs, and not pa.s.s his time in idle reading in the very shop of his creditor.
The pistol scene made me shudder; the courage with which you pursued this desperate man, at once delighted and terrified me. Be ever thus, my dearest Evelina, dauntless in the cause of distress! let no weak fears, no timid doubts, deter you from the exertion of your duty, according to the fullest sense of it that Nature has implanted in your mind. Though gentleness and modesty are the peculiar attributes of your s.e.x, yet fort.i.tude and firmness, when occasion demands them, are virtues as n.o.ble and as becoming in women as in men: the right line of conduct is the same for both s.e.xes, though the manner in which it is pursued may somewhat vary, and be accommodated to the strength or weakness of the different travellers.
There is, however, something so mysterious in all you have seen or heard of this wretched man, that I am unwilling to stamp a bad impression of his character upon so slight and partial a knowledge of it. Where any thing is doubtful, the ties of society, and the laws of humanity, claim a favourable interpretation; but remember, my dear child, that those of discretion have an equal claim to your regard.
As to Sir Clement Willoughby, I know not how to express my indignation at his conduct. Insolence so insufferable, and the implication of suspicions so shocking, irritate me to a degree of wrath, which I hardly thought my almost worn-out pa.s.sions were capable of again experiencing. You must converse with him no more: he imagines, from the pliability of your temper, that he may offend you with impunity; but his behaviour justifies, nay, calls for your avowed resentment; do not, therefore, hesitate in forbidding him your sight.
The Branghtons, Mr. Smith, and young Brown, however ill-bred and disagreeable, are objects too contemptible for serious displeasure; yet I grieve much that my Evelina should be exposed to their rudeness and impertinence.
The very day that this tedious month expires, I shall send Mrs. Clinton to town, who will accompany you to Howard Grove. Your stay there will, I hope, be short; for I feel daily an increasing impatience to fold my beloved child to my bosom! ARTHUR VILLARS.
LETTER L.
EVELINA TO THE REV. MR. VILLARS. Holborn, June 27th.
I HAVE just received, my dearest Sir, your kind present, and still kinder letter. Surely, never had orphan so little to regret as your grateful Evelina! Though motherless, though worse than fatherless, bereft from infancy of the two first and greatest blessings of life, never has she had cause to deplore their loss; never has she felt the omission of a parent"s tenderness, care, or indulgence; never, but from sorrow for them, had reason to grieve at the separation! Most thankfully do I receive the token of your approbation, and most studiously will I endeavour so to dispose of it, as may merit your generous confidence in my conduct.
Your doubts concerning Mr. Macartney give me some uneasiness. Indeed, Sir, he has not the appearance of a man whose sorrows are the effect of guilt. But I hope, before I leave town, to be better acquainted with his situation, and enabled, with more certainty of his worth, to recommend him to your favour.
I am very willing to relinquish all acquaintance with Sir Clement Willoughby, as far as it may depend upon myself so to do; but, indeed I know not how I should be able to absolutely forbid him my sight.
Miss Mirvan, in her last letter, informs me that he is now at Howard Grove, where he continues in high favour with the Captain, and is the life and spirit of the house. My time, since I wrote last, has pa.s.sed very quietly, Madame Duval having been kept at home by a bad cold, and the Branghtons by bad weather. The young man, indeed, has called two or three times; and his behavior, though equally absurd, is more unaccountable than ever: he speaks very little, takes hardly any notice of Madame Duval, and never looks at me without a broad grin. Sometimes he approaches me, as if with intention to communicate intelligence of importance; and then, suddenly stopping short, laughs rudely in my face.
O how happy shall I be, when the worthy Mrs. Clinton arrives!
June 29th.
Yesterday morning, Mr. Smith called to acquaint us that the Hampstead a.s.sembly was to be held that evening; and then he presented Madame Duval with one ticket, and brought another to me. I thanked him for his intended civility, but told him I was surprised he had so soon forgotten my having already declined going to the ball.
"Lord, Ma"am," cried he, "how should I suppose you was in earnest? come, come, don"t be cross; here"s your Grandmama ready to take care of you, so you can have no fair objection, for she"ll see that I don"t run away with you. Besides, Ma"am, I got the tickets on purpose."
"If you were determined, Sir," said I, "in making me this offer, to allow me no choice of refusal or acceptance, I must think myself less obliged to your intention than I was willing to do."
"Dear Ma"am," cried he, "you"re so smart, there is no speaking to you;-indeed you are monstrous smart, Ma"am! but come, your Grandmama shall ask you, and then I know you"ll not be so cruel."
Madame Duval was very ready to interfere; she desired me to make no further opposition, said she should go herself, and insisted upon my accompanying her. It was in vain that I remonstrated; I only incurred her anger: and Mr. Smith having given both the tickets to Madame Duval with an air of triumph, said he should call early in the evening, and took leave.
I was much chagrined at being thus compelled to owe even the shadow of an obligation to so forward a young man; but I determined that nothing should prevail upon me to dance with him, however my refusal might give offence.
In the afternoon, when he returned, it was evident that he purposed to both charm and astonish me by his appearance: he was dressed in a very showy manner, but without any taste; and the inelegant smartness of his air and deportment, his visible struggle against education to put on the fine gentleman, added to his frequent conscious glances at a dress to which he was but little accustomed, very effectually destroyed his aim of figuring, and rendered all his efforts useless.
During tea entered Miss Branghton and her brother. I was sorry to observe the consternation of the former, when she perceived Mr. Smith. I had intended applying to her for advice upon this occasion, but had been always deterred by her disagreeable abruptness. Having cast her eyes several times from Mr. Smith to me, with manifest displeasure, she seated herself sullenly in the window, scarce answering Madame Duval"s enquiries; and when I spoke to her, turning absolutely away from me.
Mr. Smith, delighted at this mark of his importance, sat indolently quiet on his chair, endeavouring by his looks rather to display, than to conceal, his inward satisfaction.
"Good gracious!" cried young Branghton, "why, you"re all as fine as a five-pence! Why, where are you going?"
"To the Hampstead ball," answered Mr. Smith.
"To a ball!" cried he. "Why, what, is aunt going to a ball? Ha, ha, ha!"
"Yes, to be sure," cried Madame Duval; "I don"t know nothing need hinder me."
"And pray, aunt, will you dance too?"
"Perhaps I may; but I suppose, Sir, that"s none of your business, whether I do or not."
"Lord! well, I should like to go! I should like to see aunt dance of all things! But the joke is, I don"t believe she"ll get ever a partner."
"You"re the most rudest boy ever I see," cried Madame Duval, angrily: "but, I promise you, I"ll tell your father what you say, for I"ve no notion of such vulgarness."
"Why, Lord, aunt, what are you so angry for? there"s no speaking a word, but you fly into a pa.s.sion: you"re as bad as Biddy, or Poll, for that, for you"re always a-scolding."