He said not one word of his departure to-morrow morning: I could not begin it; my heart would not let me; my spirits were not high: and I am afraid, if that key had been touched, I should have been too visibly affected. My cousins forbore, upon the same apprehension.
He was excessively tender and soothing to me, in his air, his voice, his manner. I thought of what Emily said; that his voice, when he spoke of me, was the voice of love. Dear flattering girl!--But why did she flatter me?
We talked of her next. He spoke of her with the tenderness of a father.
He besought me to love her. He praised her heart.
Emily, said I, venerates her guardian. She never will do any thing contrary to his advice.
She is very young, replied he. She will be happy, madam, in yours. She both loves and reverences you.
I greatly love the dear Emily, sir. She and I shall be always sisters.
How happy am I, in your goodness to her! Permit me, madam, to enumerate to you my own felicities in that of my dearest friends.
Mr. Beauchamp is now in the agreeable situation I have long wished him to be in. His prudence and obliging behaviour to his mother-in-law, have won her. His father grants him every thing through her; and she, by this means, finds that power enlarged which she was afraid would be lessened, if the son were allowed to come over. How just is this reward of his filial duty!
Thus, Lucy, did he give up the merit to his Beauchamp, which was solely due to himself.
Lord W----, he hoped, would be soon one of the happiest men in England: and the whole Mansfield family had now fair prospects opening before them.
Emily [not he, you see] had made it the interest of her mother to be quiet.
Lord and Lady L---- gave him pleasure whenever he saw them, or thought of them.
Dr. Bartlett was in heaven, while on earth. He would retire to his beloved Grandison-hall, and employ himself in distributing, as objects offered, at least a thousand pounds of the three thousand bequeathed to charitable uses by his late friend Mr. Danby. His sister"s fortune was paid. His estates in both kingdoms were improving.--See, madam, said he, how like the friend of my soul I claim your attention to affairs that are of consequence to myself; and in some of which your generosity of heart has interested you.
I bowed. Had I spoken, I had burst into tears. I had something arose in my throat, I know not what. Still, thought I, excellent man, you are not yourself happy!--O pity! pity! Yet, Lucy, he plainly had been enumerating all these things, to take off from my mind that impression which I am afraid he too well knows it is affected with, from his difficult situation.
And now, madam, resumed he, how are all my dear and good friends, whom you more particularly call yours?--I hope to have the honour of a personal knowledge of them. When heard you of our good Mr. Deane? He is well, I hope.
Very well, Sir.
Your grandmamma Shirley, that ornament of advanced years?
I bowed: I dared not to trust my voice.
Your excellent aunt, Selby?
I bowed again.
Your uncle, your Lucy, your Nancy: Happy family! All harmony! all love!
--How do they?
I wiped my eyes.
Is there any service in my power to do them, or any of them? Command me, good Miss Byron, if there be: my Lord W---- and I are one. Our influence is not small.--Make me still more happy, in the power of serving any one favoured by you.
You oppress me, sir, by your goodness!--I cannot speak my grateful sensibilities.
Will you, my dear Mr. Reeves, will you, madam, (to my cousin,) employ me in any way that I can be of use to you, either abroad or at home? Your acquaintance has given me great pleasure. To what a family of worthies has this excellent young lady introduced me!
O, sir! said Mrs. Reeves, tears running down her cheeks, that you were not to leave people whom you have made so happy in the knowledge of the best of men!
Indispensable calls must be obeyed, my dear Mrs. Reeves. If we cannot be as happy as we wish, we will rejoice in the happiness we can have. We must not be our own carvers.--But I make you all serious. I was enumerating, as I told you, my present felicities: I was rejoicing in your friendships. I have joy; and, I presume to say, I will have joy.
There is a bright side in every event; I will not lose sight of it: and there is a dark one; but I will endeavour to see it only with the eye of prudence, that I may not be involved by it at unawares. Who that is not reproached by his own heart, and is blessed with health, can grieve for inevitable evils; evils that can be only evils as we make them so?
Forgive my seriousness: my dear friends, you make me grave. Favour me, I beseech you, my good Miss Byron, with one lesson: we shall be too much engaged, perhaps, by and by.
He led me (I thought it was with a cheerful air; but my cousins both say, his eyes glistened) to the harpsichord: He sung unasked, but with a low voice; and my mind was calmed. O, Lucy! How can I part with such a man?
How can I take my leave of him?--But perhaps he has taken his leave of me already, as to the solemnity of it, in the manner I have recited.
LETTER XXVII
MISS BYRON.--IN CONTINUATION SAt.u.r.dAY MORNING, APRIL 15.
O, Lucy, Sir Charles Grandison is gone! Gone indeed! He set out at three this morning; on purpose, no doubt, to spare his sisters, and friends, as well as himself, concern.
We broke not up till after two. Were I in the writing humour which I have never known to fail me till now, I could dwell upon a hundred things, some of which I can now only briefly mention.
Dinner-time yesterday pa.s.sed with tolerable cheerfulness: every one tried to be cheerful. O what pain attends loving too well, and being too well beloved! He must have pain, as well as we.
Lady Olivia was the most thoughtful, at dinnertime; yet poor Emily! Ah, the poor Emily! she went out four or five times to weep; though only I perceived it.
n.o.body was cheerful after dinner but Sir Charles. He seemed to exert himself to be so. He prevailed on me to give them a lesson on the harpsichord. Lady L---- played: Lady G---- played: we tried to play, I should rather say. He himself took the violin, and afterwards sat down to the harpsichord, for one short lesson. He was not known to be such a master: but he was long in Italy. Lady Olivia indeed knew him to be so.
She was induced to play upon the harpsichord: she surpa.s.sed every body.
Italy is the land of harmony.
About seven at night he singled me out, and surprised me greatly by what he said. He told me, that Lady D---- had made him a visit. I was before low: I was then ready to sink. She has asked me questions, madam.
Sir, sir! was all I could say.
He himself trembled as he spoke.--Alas! my dear, he surely loves me!
Hear how solemnly he spoke--G.o.d Almighty be your director, my dear Miss Byron! I wish not more happiness to my own soul, than I do to you.--In discharge of a promise made, I mention this visit to you: I might otherwise have spared you, and myself--
He stopt there--Then resumed; for I was silent. I could not speak--Your friends will be entreated for a man that loves you; a very worthy young n.o.bleman.--I give you emotion, madam.--Forgive me.--I have performed my promise. He turned from me with a seeming cheerful air. How could he appear to be cheerful!
We made parties at cards. I knew not what I played. Emily sighed, and tears stole down her cheeks, as she played. O how she loves her guardian! Emily, I say--I don"t know what I write!
At supper we were all very melancholy. Mr. Beauchamp was urgent to go abroad with him. He changed the subject, and gave him an indirect denial, as I may call it, by recommending the two Italian ladies to his best services.
Sir Charles, kind, good, excellent! wished to Lord L---- to have seen Mr.
Grandison!--unworthy as that man has made himself of his attention.
He was a few moments in private with Lady Olivia. She returned to company with red eyes.
Poor Emily watched an opportunity to be spoken to by him alone--So diligently!--He led her to the window--About one o"clock it was--He held both her hands. He called her, she says, his Emily. He charged her to write to him.