Your obliged F. L----.
[Footnote 3: This letter does not appear.]
Letter lx.x.xvi.
_General B---- to Mr L----._
Perhaps you are a _little_ unreasonable! Indeed, my dear friend, I do not think you a _little_ unreasonable, but very nearly stark mad. What!
quarrel with your mistress because she is not sorry that your wife is ill, and because she cannot sympathize in your grief for the loss of your son! Where, except perhaps in absurd novels, did you ever meet with these paragons of mistresses, who were so magnanimous and so generous as to sacrifice their own reputations, and then be satisfied to share the only possible good remaining to them in life, the heart of their lover, with a rival more estimable, more amiable than themselves, and who has the advantage of being a wife? This sharing of hearts, this union of souls with this opposition of interests--this metaphysical gallantry is absolute nonsense, and all who try it in real life will find it so to their cost. Why should you, my dear L----, expect such superlative excellence from your Olivia? Do you think that a woman by losing one virtue increases the strength of those that remain, as it is said that the loss of one of our senses renders all the others more acute? Do you think that a lady, by yielding to love, and by proving that she has not sufficient resolution or forbearance to preserve the honour of her s.e.x, gives the best possible demonstration of her having sufficient strength of character to rise superior to all the other weaknesses incident to human, and more especially to female nature--envy and jealousy for instance?
No, no, my good friend, you have common sense, though you lately have been sparing of it in action. You had a wife, and a good wife, and you had some chance of being happy; but with a wife and a mistress, granting them to be both the best of their kind, the probabilities are rather against you. I speak only as a man of the world: morality, you know, is now merely an affair of calculation. According to the most approved tables of happiness, you have made a bad bargain. But be just, at any rate, and do not blame your Olivia for the inconveniences and evils inseparable from the species of connexion that you have been pleased to form. Do you expect the whole course of society and the nature of the human heart to change for your special accommodation? Do you believe in truth by wholesale, and yet in detail expect a happy exception in your own favour?--Seriously, my dear friend, you must either break off this connexion or bear it. I shall see you in a few days.
Yours truly, J. B.
Letter lx.x.xvij.
_Mrs C---- to Miss B----._
L---- Castle.
Leonora has recovered her strength surprisingly. She was so determined to be well, that her body dared not contradict her mind. Her excellent mother has been of the greatest possible service to us, for she has had sufficient influence to prevent her daughter from exerting herself too much. Her grace had a letter from Mr L---- to-day--very short--but very kind--at least all that I heard read of it. He has set my heart somewhat more at ease by the comfortable a.s.surance, that he will not leave England without seeing Lady Leonora. I have the greatest hopes from this interview! I have not felt so happy for many months--but I will not be too sanguine. Mr L---- talks of being here the latter end of this month.
The d.u.c.h.ess, with her usual prudence, intends to leave her daughter before that time, lest Mr L---- should be constrained by her presence, or should imagine that Leonora acts from any impulse but that of her own heart. I also, though much against my inclinations, shall decamp; for he might perhaps consider me as an adviser, caballer, confidante, or at least a troublesome spectator. All reconciliation scenes should be without spectators. Men do not like to be seen on their knees: they are at a loss, like Sir Walter Raleigh in "The Critic;" they cannot get off gracefully.
I am, dear Margaret, Yours affectionately, Helen C----.
Letter lx.x.xviij.
_General B---- to Mr L----._
Friday.
My dear L----,
Ask yourself, in the name of common sense, why you should go to Petersburg with this sentimental coquette, this romantic termagant, of whom I see you are already more than half tired. As to your being bound to her in honour, I cannot see how. Why should you make honour, justice, humanity, and grat.i.tude, plead so finely all on one side, and that the wrong side of the question? Have none of these one word to whisper in favour of anybody in this world but of a worthless mistress, who makes you miserable? I think you have learned from your heroine to be so expert in sentimental logic, that you can change virtues into vices, and vices into virtues, till at last you do not know them asunder. Else why should you make it a point of conscience to abandon your wife--just at the moment, too, when you are thoroughly convinced of her love for you, when you are touched to the soul by her generous conduct, and when your heart longs to return to her?
Please to remember that this Lady Olivia"s reputation was not unimpeached before her acquaintance with you, and do not take more glory or more blame to yourself than properly falls to your share. Do not forget that _poor_ R*** was your predecessor, and do not let this delicate lady rest all the weight of her shame upon you, as certain Chinese culprits rest their portable pillories on the shoulders of their friends.
In two days I shall follow this letter, and repeat in person all the interrogatories I have just put to you, my dear friend. Prepare yourself to answer me sincerely such questions as I shall ask.
Yours truly, J. B.
Letter lx.x.xix.
_From Olivia to Mr L----._
Monday, 12 o"clock.
For a few days did you say? To _bid adieu_? Oh! if once more you return to that fatal castle, that enchanted home, Olivia for ever loses all power over your heart. Bid her die, stab her to the heart, and she will call it mercy, and she will bless you with her dying lips; but talk not of leaving your Olivia! On her knees she writes this, her face all bathed in tears. And must she in her turn implore and supplicate? Must she abase herself even to the dust? Yes--love like hers vanquishes even the stubborn potency of female pride.
Your too fond Olivia.
Letter xc.
_From Olivia to Mr L----._
[Dated a few hours after the preceding.]
Monday, half-past three.
Oh! this equivocating answer to my fond heart! Pa.s.sion makes and admits of no compromise. Be mine, and wholly mine--or never, never will I survive your desertion! I can be happy only whilst I love; I can love only whilst I am beloved with fervency equal to my own; and when I cease to love, I cease to exist! No coward fears restrain my soul. The word suicide shocks not my ear, appals not my understanding. Death I consider but as the eternal rest of the wretched--the sweet, the sole refuge of despair.
Your resolute Olivia.
Letter xci.
_From Olivia to Mr L----._
Tuesday.
Return! return! on the wings of love return to the calm, the prudent, the happy, the transcendently happy Leonora! Return--but not to bid her adieu--return to be hers for ever, and only hers. I give you back your faith--I _give_ you back your promises--you have _taken_ back your heart.
But if you should desire once more to see Olivia, if you should have any lingering wish to bid her a last adieu, it must be this evening.
To-morrow"s sun rises not for Olivia. For her but a few short hours remain. Love, let them be all thy own! Intoxicate thy victim, mingle pleasure in the cup of death, and bid her fearless quaff it to the dregs!----