The Greatest Regency Romance Novels. Maria EdgeworthЧитать онлайн книгу.
the man who would be a husband, and also of being well assured of one's own heart.'
Mr. Thoughtless then told her, with some warmth, that he found she was relapsing into a humour and way of thinking which could not in the end but bring ruin on herself and disgrace to all her family; and added, that for his part he should meddle no more in her affairs. The tender soul of Miss Betsy was deeply affected at these words: she loved her brothers, and could not bear their displeasure; the thought of having any disagreement with them was dreadful to her; yet the putting a constraint on her inclinations to oblige them was no less so. In this dilemma, whether she complied, or whether she refused, she found herself equally unhappy.
One moment she was opening her mouth to yield a ready assent to all that was requested of her on the score of Mr. Munden; the next to confess, that she neither liked nor loved that gentleman, and knew not whether she should ever be able to resolve on a marriage with him; but her sincerity forbade the one, and her fears of offending gave a check to the other; and both together kept her entirely silent.
'You ought, methinks, however,' resumed Mr. Thoughtless, 'to have spared Mr. Munden the trouble of laying open his circumstances, and me that of examining into them.'—'I should undoubtedly have done so, Sir,' answered she, 'if I had been entirely averse to the proposals of Mr. Munden; therefore, both you and he are too hasty in judging. You know, brother, that Sir Ralph and my dear Lady Trusty will be in town in a very few days; and I am willing to have the approbation of as many of my friends as possible, in a thing of so much consequence to my future peace.'
Mr. Thoughtless was now somewhat better satisfied than he had been; and after recommending to her a constancy of mind and resolution, took his leave of her.
This conversation having a little dissipated those gay imaginations she was before possessed of, she began to consider seriously what she meant by all this, and what it availed her to give both her lover and brothers so much matter of complaint against her: she reflected that she had now gone so far with that gentleman, that neither honour towards him, nor regard to her own reputation, would well suffer her to go back. 'Since it is so, then,' said she to herself, 'to what end do I take all this trouble to invent excuses for delaying what must one day necessarily be?
'Yet, wherefore must it be?' continued she; 'I have made no promise; and if a better offer should happen, I see no reason that obliges me to reject it: for example, if Mr. Trueworth or such a one as Mr. Trueworth, (if his equal is to be found in nature) neither my brothers, nor the world, I fancy, would condemn me for quitting Mr. Munden.
'Why, then,' cried she, 'need I make all this haste to put myself out of the way of fortune? I am young enough; have lost no part of what has attracted me so many admirers; and, while my heart and hand are free, have, at least, a chance of being more happy than Mr. Munden can make me.'
In a word, being fully persuaded in her mind that the lady, who had supplanted her in Mr. Trueworth's affections, was dead, she imagined there was a probability he might renew his addresses to herself; she wished, at least, to make the experiment; and, to that end, resolved to give no promise to Mr. Munden: yet would she not allow herself to think she loved the other, but only that she would give him the preference, as he was a match of more advantage.
Nothing is more certain, nor, I believe, more obvious to the reader, than that this young lady, almost from the time of Mr. Trueworth's quitting her, had entertained a growing inclination for him, which the late service he had rendered had very much increased: but this her pride would not suffer her to own, even to herself, as the comick poet truly says—
'For whatso'er the sages charge on pride,
The angels fall, and twenty faults beside;
On earth, 'tis sure, 'mong us of mortal calling,
Pride saves man oft, and woman too, from falling.'
CHAPTER XXI
Presents the reader with some prognosticks, on events in futuro
The reader will easily suppose that, in the present disposition of Miss Betsy's heart, Mr. Munden met with but an indifferent reception from her; she avoided his company as much as possible; and, when obliged to receive a visit from him, could not bring herself to treat him with any thing more than a cold civility. He complained of her cruelty—told her he had expected better things from her after her brothers had approved his flame: he pressed her, in the most pathetick terms he was master of, to let him know when the happy day would arrive, which should put an end to the long series of his hopes and fears.
It is certain, that if this gentleman had loved with that warmth and sincerity which some men have done, he must have been very unhappy during his courtship to Miss Betsy; but he was altogether insensible of the delicacies of the passion he professed—he felt not the pains he affected to languish under—he could support the frowns, or even the slights, of his mistress, without any other anxiety than what his pride inflicted.
It was, therefore, rather owing to this last propensity in his nature, than any emotions of a real tenderness for Miss Betsy, which had made him persevere in his addresses to her. All his acquaintance knew he had courted her a long time; some of them had been witness of her treatment of him: and he was unwilling it should be said of him, that he had made an offer of his heart in vain.
He had, at first, indeed, a liking for her person; he had considered her beauty, wit, and the many accomplishments she was possessed of, were such as would render his choice applauded by the world. The hopes of gaining her in a short time, by the encouragement she had given his addresses, had made him pursue her with vigour; but the delays—the scruples—the capriciousness of her humour—the pretences she of late had made to avoid giving him a definitive answer—had, at length, palled all the inclination he once had for her; and even desire was deadened in him, on so many disappointments.
It is, therefore, a very ill-judged thing in the ladies, to keep too long in play the man they ever design to marry: and, with all due deference to that great wit and poet, Sir John Suckling, there are very few examples which verify his maxim, that—
' 'Tis expectation makes the blessing dear.'
According to my opinion, which is founded on observation, another author, who wrote much about the same time with Sir John, has given us a more true idea of what a tedious courtship may produce, especially on the side of the man. In a matrimonial dialogue, he makes the husband excuse the coldness complained of by his wife, in these terms—
'Unequal lengths, alas! our passions run;
My love was quite worn out, ere yours begun.'
This being the case with Mr. Munden, it rendered Miss Betsy little less indifferent to him, in reality, than he had ever been to her: to which another motive, perhaps, might also be added, viz. that of his indulging himself with amusements with other fair-ones, of a more kind complexion; for continency (as will hereafter appear) was not among the number of that gentleman's virtues.
But enough of Mr. Munden for the present. It is now highly proper to give the reader some account what Mr. Trueworth was doing while Miss Betsy was entertaining sentiments for him, which he had long since ceased the ambition of inspiring her with.
Difficult was it for him to get over the mingled astonishment and vexation which the detection of the wickedness of Miss Flora had involved him in. The remembrance of those guilty moments, in which he had indulged a tender intercourse with a woman of her abandoned principles, filled him with the most bitter remorse, and rendered him almost hateful to himself.
To recollect that he had been the instrument of her base designs on Miss Betsy, and how cruelly he had wronged that lady by a too rash belief, was, of itself, sufficient to inflame his rage; but when he reflected on this last act of baseness, which, if not providentially discovered, might have made his dear Harriot entertain suspicions of him fatal to her peace, if not totally destructive of their mutual happiness, the shock of such a misfortune, though happily frustrated, was more than he could