Читать книгу: «Evelina, Or, the History of a Young Lady's Entrance into the World», страница 25
LETTER LXIX
EVELINA IN CONTINUATION. Sept. 30th
OH, Sir, what a strange incident have I to recite! what a field of conjecture to open!
Yesterday evening we all went to an assembly. Lord Orville presented tickets to the whole family; and did me the honour, to the no small surprise of all here, I believe, to dance with me. But every day abounds in fresh instances of his condescending politeness; and he now takes every opportunity of calling me his friend and his sister.
Lord Merton offered a ticket to Lady Louisa; but she was so much incensed against him, that she refused it with the utmost disdain: neither could he prevail upon her to dance with him; she sat still the whole evening, and deigned not to look at or speak to him. To me her behaviour is almost the same: for she is cold, distant, and haughty, and her eyes express the greatest contempt. But for Lord Orville, how miserable would my residence here make me!
We were joined in the ball-room by Mr. Coverley, Mr. Lovel, and Lord Merton, who looked as if he was doing penance, and sat all the evening next to Lady Louisa, vainly endeavouring to appease her anger.
Lord Orville began the minuets: he danced with a young lady who seemed to engage the general attention, as she had not been seen here before. She is pretty, and looks mild and good-humoured.
"Pray, Mr. Lovel," said Lady Louisa, "who is that?"
"Miss Belmont," answered he, "the young heiress: she came to the Wells yesterday."
Struck with the name, I involuntarily repeated it; but nobody heard me.
"What is her family?" said Mrs. Beaumont.
"Have you not heard of her, Ma'am?" cried he; "she is only daughter and heiress of Sir John Belmont."
Good Heaven, how did I start! the name struck my ear like a thunderbolt. Mrs. Selwyn, who immediately looked at me, said, "Be calm, my dear, and we will learn the truth of all this."
Till then I had never imagined her to be acquainted with my story; but she has since told me, that she knew my unhappy mother, and was well informed of the whole affair.
She asked Mr. Lovel a multitude of questions; and I gathered from his answers, that this young lady was just come from abroad with Sir John Belmont, who was now in London; that she was under the care of his sister, Mrs. Paterson; and that she would inherit a considerable estate.
I cannot express the strange feelings with which I was agitated during this recital. What, my dearest Sir, can it possibly mean? Did you ever hear of any after-marriage?-or must I suppose, that, while the lawful child is rejected, another is adopted?-I know not what to think! I am bewildered with a contrariety of ideas!
When we came home, Mrs. Selwyn passed more than an hour in my room conversing upon this subject. She says, that I ought instantly to go to town, find out my father, and have the affair cleared up. She assures me I have too strong a resemblance to my dear, though unknown, mother, to allow of the least hesitation in my being owned, when once I am seen. For my part, I have no wish but to act by your direction.
I cannot give any account of the evening; so disturbed, so occupied am I by this subject, that I can think of no other. I have entreated Mrs. Selwyn to observe the strictest secrecy, and she has promised that she will. Indeed, she has too much sense to be idly communicative.
Lord Orville took notice of my being absent and silent; but I ventured not to intrust him with the cause. Fortunately, he was not of the party at the time Mr. Lovel made the discovery.
Mrs. Selwyn says, that if you approve my going to town, she will herself accompany me. I had a thousand times rather ask the protection of Mrs. Mirvan, but, after this offer that will not be possible.
Adieu, my dearest Sir. I am sure you will write immediately, and I shall be all impatience till your letter arrives.
LETTER LXX
EVELINA IN CONTINUATION. Oct. 1st
GOOD God, my dear Sir, what a wonderful tale have I again to relate! even yet, I am not recovered from my extreme surprise.
Yesterday morning, as soon as I had finished my hasty letter, I was summoned to attend a walking party to the Hot Wells. It consisted only of Mrs. Selwyn and Lord Orville. The latter walked by my side all the way; and his conversation dissipated my uneasiness, and insensibly restored my serenity.
At the pump-room I saw Mr. Macartney; I courtsied to him twice ere he would speak to me. When he did, I began to apologize for having disappointed him; but I did not find it very easy to excuse myself, as Lord Orville's eyes, with an expression of anxiety that distressed me, turned from him to me, and me to him, every word I spoke. Convinced, however, that I had really trifled with Mr. Macartney, I scrupled not to beg his pardon. He was then not merely appeased, but even grateful.
He requested me to see him to-morrow; but I had not the folly to be again guilty of an indiscretion; which had already caused me so much uneasiness; and therefore I told him frankly, that it was not in my power at present to see him but by accident; and, to prevent his being offended, I hinted to him the reason I could not receive him as I wished to do.
When I had satisfied both him and myself upon this subject, I turned to Lord Orville, and saw, with concern, the gravity of his countenance. I would have spoken to him, but knew not how; I believe, however, he read my thoughts; for, in a little time, with a sort of serious smile, he said, "Does not Mr. Macartney complain of his disappointment?"
"Not much, my Lord."
"And how have you appeased him?" Finding I hesitated what to answer, "Am I not your brother?" continued he, "and must I not enquire into your affairs?"
"Certainly, my Lord," said I, laughing. "I only wish it were better worth your Lordship's while."
"Let me, then, make immediate use of my privilege. When shall you see Mr. Macartney again?"
"Indeed, my Lord, I can't tell."
"But,-do you know that I shall not suffer my sister to make a private appointment?"
"Pray, my Lord," cried I earnestly, "use that word no more! Indeed you shock me extremely."
"That would I not do for the world," cried he, "yet you know not how warmly, how deeply I am interested, not only in all your concerns, but in all your actions."
This speech-the most particular one Lord Orville had ever made to me, ended our conversation at that time; for I was too much struck by it to make any answer.
Soon after, Mr. Macartney, in a low voice, intreated me not to deny him the gratification of returning the money. While he was speaking, the young lady I saw yesterday at the assembly, with the large party, entered the pump-room. Mr. Macartney turned as pale as death, his voice faultered, and he seemed not to know what he said. I was myself almost equally disturbed, by the crowd of confused ideas that occurred to me. Good Heaven! thought I, why should he be thus agitated?-is it possible this can be the young lady he loved?-
In a few minutes we quitted the pump-room; and, though I twice wished Mr. Macartney good morning, he was so absent he did not hear me.
We did not immediately return to Clifton, as Mrs. Selwyn had business at a pamphlet shop. While she was looking at some new poems, Lord Orville again asked me when I should see Mr. Macartney?
"Indeed, my Lord," cried I, "I know not, but I would give the universe for a few moments' conversation with him!" I spoke this with a simple sincerity, and was not aware of the force of my own words.
"The universe!" repeated he, "Good God, Miss Anville, do you say this to me?"
"I would say it," returned I, "to any body, my Lord."
"I beg your pardon," said he, in a voice that showed him ill pleased, "I am answered."
"My Lord," cried I, "you must not judge hardly of me. I spoke inadvertently; but if you knew the painful suspense I suffer at this moment, you would not be surprised at what I have said."
"And would a meeting with Mr. Macartney relieve you from that suspense?"
"Yes, my Lord, two words might be sufficient."
"Would to Heaven," cried he, after a short pause, "that I were worthy to know their import!"
"Worthy, my Lord!-O, if that were all, your Lordship could ask nothing I should not be ready to answer! If I were but at liberty to speak, I should be proud of your Lordship's enquiries: but, indeed, I am not-I have not any right to communicate the affairs of Mr. Macartney;-your Lordship cannot suppose I have."
"I will own to you," answered he, "I know not what to suppose; yet there seems a frankness even in your mystery-and such an air of openness in your countenance, that I am willing to hope,-" He stopped a moment, and then added, "This meeting, you say, is essential to your repose?"
"I did not say that, my Lord; but yet I have the most important reasons for wishing to speak to him."
He paused a few minutes; and then said, with warmth, "Yes, you shall speak to him!-I will myself assist you!-Miss Anville, I am sure, cannot form a wish against propriety: I will ask no questions, I will rely upon her own purity, and, uninformed, blindfold as I am, I will serve her with all my power!" And then he went into the shop, leaving me so strangely affected by his generous behaviour, that I almost wished to follow him with my thanks.
When Mrs. Selwyn had transacted her affairs, we returned home.
The moment dinner was over, Lord Orville went out, and did not come back till just as we were summoned to supper. This is the longest time he has spent from the house since I have been at Clifton; and you cannot imagine, my dear Sir, how much I missed him. I scarce knew before how infinitely I am indebted to him alone for the happiness I have enjoyed since I have been at Mrs. Beaumont's.
As I generally go down stairs last, he came to me, the moment the ladies had passed by, and said, "Shall you be at home tomorrow morning?"
"I believe so, my Lord."
"And will you then receive a visitor for me?"
"For you, my Lord?"
"Yes:-I have made acquaintance with Mr. Macartney, and he has promised to call upon me to-morrow about three o'clock."
And then, taking my hand, he led me down stairs.
O, Sir!-was there ever such another man as Lord Orville?-Yes, one other now resides at Berry Hill!
This morning there has been a great deal of company here; but at the time appointed by Lord Orville, doubtless with that consideration, the parlour is almost always empty, as every body is dressing.
Mrs. Beaumont, however, was not gone up stairs when Mr. Macartney sent in his name.
Lord Orville immediately said, "Beg the favour of him to walk in. You see, Madam, that I consider myself as at home."
"I hope so," answered Mrs. Beaumont, "or I should be very uneasy."
Mr. Macartney then entered. I believe we both felt very conscious to whom the visit was paid: but Lord Orville received him as his own guest; and not merely entertained him as such while Mrs. Beaumont remained in the room, but for some time after she had left it, a delicacy that saved me from the embarrassment I should have felt, had he immediately quitted us.
In a few minutes, however, he gave Mr. Macartney a book,-for I, too, by way of pretence for continuing in the room, pretended to be reading,-and begged he would be so good as to look it over, while he answered a note, which he would dispatch in a few minutes, and return to him.
When he was gone, we both parted with our books; and Mr. Macartney, again producing the paper with the money, besought me to accept it.
"Pray," said I, still declining it, "did you know the young lady who came into the pump-room yesterday morning?"
"Know her!" repeated he, changing colour, "Oh, but too well!"
"Indeed!"
"Why, Madam, do you ask?"
"I must beseech you to satisfy me further upon this subject; pray tell me who she is."
"Inviolably as I meant to keep my secret, I can refuse you, Madam, nothing;-that lady-is the daughter of Sir John Belmont!-of my father!"
"Gracious Heaven!" cried I, involuntarily laying my hand on his arm, "you are then-" my brother, I would have said, but my voice failed me, and I burst into tears.
"Oh, Madam," cried he, "what does this mean?-what can thus distress you?"
I could not answer, but held out my hand to him. He seemed greatly surprised, and talked in high terms of my condescension.
"Spare yourself," cried I, wiping my eyes, "spare yourself this mistake,-you have a right to all I can do for you; the similarity of our circumstances-"
We were then interrupted by the entrance of Mrs. Selwyn; and Mr. Macartney, finding no probability of our being left alone, was obliged to take leave, though, I believe, very reluctantly, while in such suspense.
Mrs. Selwyn, then, by dint of interrogatories, drew from me the state of this affair. She is so penetrating, that there is no possibility of evading to give her satisfaction.
Is not this a strange event? Good Heaven! how little did I think that the visits I so unwillingly paid at Mr. Branghton's would have introduced me to so near a relation! I will never again regret the time I spent in town this summer: a circumstance so fortunate will always make me think of it with pleasure. * * * * * *
I have just received your letter,-and it has almost broken my heart!-Oh, Sir! the illusion is over, indeed! how vainly have I flattered, how miserably deceived myself! Long since, doubtful of the situation of my heart, I dreaded a scrutiny;-but now, now that I have so long escaped, I began, indeed, to think my safety insured, to hope that my fears were causeless, and to believe that my good opinion and esteem of Lord Orville might be owned without suspicion, and felt without danger;-miserably deceived, indeed! His sight is baneful to my repose;-his society is death to my future tranquillity! Oh, Lord Orville! could I have believed that a friendship so grateful to my heart, so soothing to my distresses, a friendship, which, in every respect, did me so much honour, would only serve to embitter all my future moments!-What a strange, what an unhappy circumstance, that my gratitude, though so justly excited, should be so fatal to my peace!
Yes, Sir, I will quit him;-would to Heaven I could at this moment! without seeing him again,-without trusting to my now conscious emotion!-Oh, Lord Orville, how little do you know the evils I owe to you! how little suppose that, when most dignified by your attention, I was most to be pitied,-and when most exalted by your notice, you were most my enemy!
You, Sir, relied upon my ignorance;-I, alas, upon your experience; and, whenever I doubted the weakness of my heart, the idea that you did not suspect it, reassured me,-restored my courage, and confirmed my error!-Yet am I most sensible of the kindness of your silence.
Oh, Sir! why have I ever quitted you? why been exposed to dangers to which I am so unequal?
But I will leave this place, leave Lord Orville,-leave him, perhaps, for ever!-no matter; your counsel, your goodness, may teach me how to recover the peace and the serenity of which my unguarded folly has beguiled me. To you alone do I trust,-in you alone confide, for every future hope I may form.
The more I consider the parting with Lord Orville, the less fortitude do I feel to bear the separation;-the friendship he has shown me,-his politeness,-his sweetness of manners,-his concern in my affairs,-his solicitude to oblige me,-all, all to be given up!-
No, I cannot tell him I am going,-I dare not trust myself to take leave of him,-I will run away without seeing him:-implicitly will I follow your advice, avoid his sight, and shun his society!
To-morrow morning I will set off for Berry Hill. Mrs. Selwyn and Mrs. Beaumont shall alone know my intention. And to-day-I will spend in my own room. The readiness of my obedience is the only atonement I can offer for the weakness which calls for its exertion.
Can you, will you, most honoured, most dear Sir! sole prop by which the poor Evelina is supported,-can you, without reproach, without displeasure, receive the child you have so carefully reared,-from whose education better fruit might have been expected, and who, blushing for her unworthiness, fears to meet the eye by which she has been cherished?-Oh, yes, I am sure you will! Your Evelina's errors are those of the judgment; and you, I well know, pardon all but those of the heart!
LETTER LXXI
EVELINA IN CONTINUATION. Clifton, October 1st
I HAVE only time, my dearest Sir, for three words, to overtake my last letter, and prevent your expecting me immediately; for, when I communicated my intention to Mrs. Selwyn, she would not hear of it, and declared it would be highly ridiculous for me to go before I received an answer to my intelligence concerning the journey from Paris. She has, therefore, insisted upon my waiting till your next letter arrives. I hope you will not be displeased at my compliance, though it is rather against my own judgment: but Mrs. Selwyn quite overpowered me with the force of her arguments. I will, however, see very little of Lord Orville; I will never come down stairs before breakfast; give up all my walks in the garden; seat myself next to Mrs. Selwyn; and not merely avoid his conversation, but shun his presence. I will exert all the prudence and all the resolution in my power, to prevent this short delay from giving you any further uneasiness.
Adieu, my dearest Sir. I shall not now leave Clifton till I have your directions.
LETTER LXXII
EVELINA IN CONTINUATION. October 2nd
YESTERDAY, from the time I received your kind, though heart-piercing letter, I kept my room,-for I was equally unable and unwilling to see Lord Orville; but this morning, finding I seemed destined to pass a few days longer here, I endeavoured to calm my spirits, and to appear as usual; though I determined to avoid him to the utmost of my power. Indeed, as I entered the parlour, when called to breakfast, my thoughts were so much occupied with your letter, that I felt as much confusion at his sight, as if he had himself been informed of its contents.
Mrs. Beaumont made me a slight compliment upon my recovery, for I had pleaded illness to excuse keeping my room: Lady Louisa spoke not a word; but Lord Orville, little imagining himself the cause of my indisposition, enquired concerning my health with the most distinguishing politeness. I hardly made any answer; and, for the first time since I have been here, contrived to sit at some distance from him.
I could not help observing that my reserve surprised him; yet he persisted in his civilities, and seemed to wish to remove it. But I paid him very little attention; and the moment breakfast was over, instead of taking a book, or walking in the garden, I retired to my own room.
Soon after, Mrs. Selwyn came to tell me, that Lord Orville had been proposing I should take an airing, and persuading her to let him drive us both in his phaeton. She delivered the message with an archness that made me blush; and added, that an airing, in my Lord Orville's carriage, could not fail to revive my spirits. There is no possibility of escaping her discernment; she has frequently rallied me upon his Lordship's attention,-and, alas!-upon the pleasure with which I have received it! However, I absolutely refused the offer.
"Well," said she, laughing, "I cannot just now indulge you with any solicitation; for, to tell you the truth, I have business to transact at the Wells, and am glad to be excused myself. I would ask you to walk with me; -but since Lord Orville is refused, I have not the presumption to hope for success."
"Indeed," cried I, "you are mistaken; I will attend you with pleasure."
"O rare coquetry!" cried she, "surely it must be inherent in our sex, or it could not have been imbibed at Berry Hill."
I had not spirits to answer her, and therefore put on my hat and cloak in silence.
"I presume," continued she, drily, "his Lordship may walk with us."
"If so, Madam," said I, "you will have a companion, and I will stay at home."
"My dear child," cried she, "did you bring the certificate of your birth with you?"
"Dear Madam, no!"
"Why then, we shall never be known again at Berry Hill."
I felt too conscious to enjoy her pleasantry; but I believe she was determined to torment me, for she asked if she should inform Lord Orville that I desired him not to be of the party?
"By no means, Madam; but, indeed, I had rather not walk myself."
"My dear," cried she, "I really do not know you this morning,-you have certainly been taking a lesson of Lady Louisa."
She then went down stairs; but presently returning, told me she had acquainted Lord Orville that I did not choose to go out in the phaeton, but preferred a walk, tete-e-tete with her, by way of variety.
I said nothing, but was really vexed. She bad me go down stairs, and said she would follow me immediately.
Lord Orville met me in the hall. "I fear," said he, "Miss Anville is not yet quite well?" and he would have taken my hand, but I turned from him, and courtsying slightly, went into the parlour.
Mrs. Beaumont and Lady Louisa were at work: Lord Merton was talking with the latter; for he has now made his peace, and is again received into favour.
I seated myself, as usual, by the window. Lord Orville, in a few minutes, came to me, and said, "Why is Miss Anville so grave?"
"Not grave, my Lord," said I, "only stupid;" and I took up a book.
"You will go," said he, after a short pause, "to the assembly to-night?"
"No, my Lord, certainly not."
"Neither then will I; for I should be sorry to sully the remembrance I have of the happiness I enjoyed at the last."
Mrs. Selwyn then coming in, general enquiries were made to all but me, of who would go to the assembly? Lord Orville instantly declared he had letters to write at home; but every one else settled to go.
I then hastened Mrs. Selwyn away, though not before she had said to Lord Orville, "Pray, has your Lordship obtained Miss Anville's leave to favour us with your company?"
"I have not, Madam," answered he, "had the vanity to ask it."
During our walk, Mrs. Selvyn tormented me unmercifully. She told me, that since I declined any addition to our party, I must, doubtless, be conscious of my own powers of entertainment; and begged me, therefore, to exert them freely. I repented a thousand times having consented to walk alone with her; for though I made the most painful efforts to appear in spirits, her raillery quite overpowered me.
We went first to the pump-room. It was full of company; and the moment we entered, I heard a murmuring of, "That's she!" and, to my great confusion, I saw every eye turned towards me. I pulled my hat over my face, and, by the assistance of Mrs. Selwyn, endeavoured to screen myself from observation, nevertheless, I found I was so much the object of general attention, that I entreated her to hasten away. But unfortunately she had entered into conversation, very earnestly, with a gentleman of her acquaintance, and would not listen to me; but said, that if I was tired of waiting, I might walk on to the milliner's with the Miss Watkins, two young ladies I had seen at Mrs. Beaumont's, who were going thither.
I accepted the offer very readily, and away we went. But we had not gone three yards, before we were followed by a party of young men, who took every possible opportunity of looking at us, and, as they walked behind, talked aloud, in a manner at once unintelligible and absurd. "Yes," cried one," 'tis certainly she!-mark but her blushing cheek!"
"And then her eye -her downcast eye!"-cried another.
"True, oh most true," said a third, "every beauty is her own!"
"But then," said the first, "her mind,-now the difficulty is, to find out the truth of that, for she will not say a word."
"She is timid," answered another; "mark but her timid air."
During this conversation, we walked on silent and quick; as we knew not to whom it was particularly addressed, we were all equally ashamed, and equally desirous to avoid such unaccountable observations.
Soon after we were caught in a shower of rain. We hurried on; and these gentlemen, following us, offered their services in the most pressing manner, begging us to make use of their arms; and, while I almost ran, in order to avoid their impertinence, I was suddenly met by Sir Clement Willoughby!
We both started; "Good God!" he exclaimed, "Miss Anville!" and then, regarding my tormentors with an air of displeasure, he earnestly enquired, if any thing had alarmed me?
"No, no;" cried I, for I found no difficulty now to disengage myself from these youths, who, probably, concluding from the commanding air of Sir Clement, that he had a right to protect me, quietly gave way to him, and entirely quitted us.
With his usual impetuosity, he then began a thousand enquiries, accompanied with as many compliments; and he told me, that he arrived at Bristol but this morning, which he had entirely devoted to endeavours to discover where I lodged.
"Did you know, then," said I, "that I was at Bristol?"
"Would to Heaven," cried he, "that I could remain in ignorance of your proceedings with the same contentment you do of mine! then should I not for ever journey upon the wings of Hope, to meet my own despair! You cannot even judge of the cruelty of my fate; for the ease and serenity of your mind incapacitates you from feeling for the agitation of mine!"
The ease and serenity of my mind! alas, how little do I merit those words!
"But," added he, "had accident brought me hither, had I not known of your journey, the voice of fame would have proclaimed it to me instantly upon my arrival."
"The voice of fame!" repeated I.
"Yes, for yours was the first name I heard at the pump-room. But had I not heard your name, such a description could have painted no one else."
"Indeed," said I, "I do not understand you." But just then arriving at the milliner's our conversation ended; for Miss Watkins called me to look at caps and ribbons.
Sir Clement, however, has the art of being always at home; he was very soon engaged, as busily as ourselves, in looking at lace ruffles; yet he took an opportunity of saying to me, in a low voice, "How charmed I am to see you look so well! I was told you were ill;-but I never saw you in better health,-never more infinitely lovely!"
I turned away to examine the ribbons, and soon after Mrs. Selwyn made her appearance. I found that she was acquainted with Sir Clement; and her manner of speaking to him convinced me that he was a favourite with her.
When their mutual compliments were over, she turned to me, and said, "Pray, Miss Anville, how long can you live without nourishment?"
"Indeed, Ma'am," said I, laughing, "I have never tried."
"Because so long, and no longer," answered she, "you may remain at Bristol."
"Why, what is the matter, Ma'am?"
"The matter!-why, all the ladies are at open war with you,-the whole pump-room is in confusion; and you, innocent as you pretend to look, are the cause. However, if you take my advice, you will be very careful how you eat and drink during your stay."
I begged her to explain herself: and she then told me, that a copy of verses had been dropped in the pump-room, and read there aloud: "The beauties of the Wells," said she, "are all mentioned, but you are the Venus to whom the prize is given."
"Is it then possible," cried Sir Clement, "that you have not seen these verses?"
"I hardly know," answered I, "whether any body has."
"I assure you," said Mrs. Selwyn, "if you give me the invention of them, you do me an honour I by no means deserve."
"I wrote down in my tablets," said Sir Clement, "the stanzas which concern Miss Anville this morning at the pump-room; and I will do myself the honour of copying them for her this evening."
"But why the part that concerns Miss Anville?" said Mrs. Selwyn; "Did you ever see her before this morning?"
"O yes," answered he, "I have had that happiness frequently at Captain Mirvan's. Too, too frequently!" added he, in a low voice, as Mrs. Selwyn turned to the milliner: and as soon as she was occupied in examining some trimmings, he came to me, and almost whether I would or not, entered into conversation with me.
"I have a thousand things," cried he, "to say to you. Pray where are you?"
"With Mrs. Selwyn, Sir."
"Indeed!-then, for once, chance is my friend. And how long have you been here?"
"About three weeks."
"Good Heaven! what an anxious search have I had, to discover your abode, since you so suddenly left town! The termagant, Madame Duval, refused me all intelligence. Oh, Miss Anville, did you know what I have endured! the sleepless, restless state of suspense I have been tortured with, you could not, all cruel as you are, you could not have received me with such frigid indifference?"
"Received you, Sir!"
"Why, is not my visit to you?" Do you think I should have made this journey, but for the happiness of again seeing you?"
"Indeed it is possible I might,-since so many others do."
"Cruel, cruel girl! you know that I adore you! you know you are the mistress of my soul, and arbitress of my fate!"
Mrs. Selwyn then advancing to us, he assumed a more disengaged air, and asked, if he should not have the pleasure of seeing her in the evening at the assembly?
"Oh, yes," cried she, "we shall certainly be there; so you may bring the verses with you, if Miss Anville can wait for them so long."
"I hope then," returned he, "that you will do me the honour to dance with me?"
I thanked him, but said I should not be at the assembly.
"Not be at the assembly?" cried Mrs. Selwyn, "Why, have you, too, letters to write?"
She looked at me with a significant archness, that made me colour; and I hastily answered, "No, indeed, Ma'am!"
"You have not!" cried she, yet more drily; "then pray, my dear, do you stay at home to help,-or to hinder others?"
"To do neither, Ma'am," answered I, in much confusion; "so, if you please, I will not stay at home."
"You allow me, then," said Sir Clement, "to hope for the honour of your hand?"
I only bowed,-for the dread of Mrs. Selwyn's raillery made me not dare refuse him.
Soon after this we walked home: Sir Clement accompanied us; and the conversation that passed between Mrs. Selwyn and him was supported in so lively a manner, that I should have been much entertained, had my mind been more at ease: but, alas! I could think of nothing but the capricious, the unmeaning appearance which the alteration in my conduct must make in the eyes of the Lord Orville! And much as I wished to avoid him, greatly as I desire to save myself from having my weakness known to him,-yet I cannot endure to incur his ill opinion,-and, unacquainted as he is with the reasons by which I am actuated, how can he fail contemning a change to him so unaccountable?
