The Greatest Regency Romance Novels. Maria EdgeworthЧитать онлайн книгу.
of Lady Mellasin's and her daughter Flora's adventures while on this side the globe
While this unhappy little family were in their concealment, each of them set their whole wits to work to find some means by which Lady Mellasin might be extricated from that terrible dilemma she had brought herself into.
But as this was a thing in it's very nature, as affairs had been managed, morally impossible to be accomplished, all their endeavours to that purpose only served to shew them the extreme vanity of the attempt, and consequently to render them more miserable.
Despair, at length, and the near prospect of approaching want, so humbled the once haughty spirit of Lady Mellasin, that she resolved on writing to Mr. Edward Goodman—to make use of all her rhetorick to soothe him into forgiveness for the troubles she had occasioned him—and, in fine, to petition relief from the very man whom she had made use of the most villainous arts to prejudice.
The contents of her letter to that much-injured gentleman were as follows.
'To Edward Goodman, Esq.
Sir,
Appearances are so much against me that I scarce dare say I am innocent, though I know myself so, as to any intention of doing you injustice: I cannot, however, forbear giving you a short sketch of the imposition which has been practiced upon me, and in my name attempted to be put on you.
The will, which has occasioned this long contest between us, was brought me by a person who told me he had drawn it up exactly according to my late husband's instructions, the very evening before he died; the subscribing witnesses gave me the same assurance; and also added, that Mr. Goodman was so well convinced of my integrity, and the wrong he had done me by suspecting it, that had he lived only to the next morning, he had resolved to send for me home, and be reconciled to me in the face of the world: so that, if the thing was a piece of forgery, these men are only guilty—I am entirely free from any share in it.
But as these proceedings, which I have unhappily been prevailed upon to countenance, have given you a great deal of trouble and expence, I sincerely ask your pardon for it: this is all the atonement I can make to Heaven for offences more immediately my own.
I am very sensible, notwithstanding, that, by what I have done, I have not only forfeited my claim to such part of the effects of Mr. Goodman as appertain to the widow of an eminent and wealthy citizen, but, likewise, all my pretensions to the friendship and favour of the person he has made his heir: yet, Sir, however guilty I may seem to you, or how great my faults in reality may have been, I cannot help being of opinion that, when you remember I was once the wife of an uncle, whose memory you have so much cause to value, you will think the name and character I have borne, ought to defend me from publick infamy, parish-alms, and beggary.
Reduced as I am, it would ill become me to make any stipulations, or lay a tax on the goodness I am necessitated to implore. No, Sir; as I can now demand nothing, so, also, I can hope for nothing but from your compassion and generosity; and to these two amiable qualities alone shall ascribe whatever provision you shall think fit to make for me out of that abundance I was once in full possession of.
I shall add no more, than to intreat you will consider, with some portion of attention and good-nature, on what I have lately been, and what I at present am, the most unfortunate, and most forlorn of womankind,
M. Mellasin Goodman.
P.S. My daughter Flora, the innocent partner of my griefs and sufferings, will have the honour to deliver this to you, and, I hope, return with a favourable answer.'
Lady Mellasin chose to send Miss Flora with this letter, as believing her agreeable person, and manner of behaviour, would have a greater effect on that youthful heart of the person it was addressed to, than could have been expected from the formal and affected gravity of Mrs. Prinks.
It is not unlikely, too, but that she might flatter herself with the hopes of greater advantages by her daughter's going in person to Mr. Goodman's, than those which her letter had petitioned for. She had often heard and read of men whose resentment had been softened and melted into tenderness on the appearance of a lovely object: as the poet somewhere or other expresses it—
'Beauty, like ice, our footing does betray;
Who can tread sure on the smooth, slipp'ry way?'
Miss Flora herself was also very far from being displeased at going on this errand; and as it was not proper for her to dress in the manner she would have done on making a visit to any other person, it cost her some time, before her setting out, to equip herself in such a deshabille as she thought would be most genteel and become her best.
She had the good fortune to find Mr. Goodman at home, and was immediately introduced to him. He was a little surprized at a visit made him by a young lady whom he had never seen before; but not enough to prevent him from receiving her with the utmost complaisance. He saluted her, seated her in a chair, and then asked her what commands she had to favour him with: on which, taking out the letter, and giving it to him, 'This, Sir,' said she, with a deep sigh, 'will inform you of the request that brings me here.'
Mr. Goodman read it hastily over; but, while he was doing so, could not forbear shaking his head several times; yet spoke nothing till after a pause of some minutes. 'Madam,' said he, 'as this is a business which I could not expect to have heard of, I must confess myself altogether unprepared how to proceed in it. If Lady Mellasin,' added he, 'will give herself the trouble to send in three or four days, she may depend on an answer from me.'
The coldness of these words, and the distant air he assumed while speaking them, so widely different from that with which he had accosted this lady on her first entrance, made her presently see she had nothing to hope from this embassy on her own account, and made her also tremble for that of her mother.
As he urged her not to stay, nor even gave the least hint that he was desirous of her doing so, she rose, and, with a most dejected air, took her leave; telling him, in going out, that she should not fail of acquainting Lady Mellasin with his commands; who, she doubted not, would be punctual in obeying them.
Mr. Goodman was, indeed, too well acquainted with the character of Miss Flora to be capable of receiving any impression from the charms nature had bestowed upon her, even though they had been a thousand times more brilliant than in effect they were, and she had not been the daughter of a woman who had rendered herself so justly hateful to him.
Lady Mellasin was shocked to the very soul at being told the reception her daughter had met with; and could not help looking upon it as a very bad omen of her future success. She doubted but by his saying that he must have time for deliberation, he meant that he would do nothing in this point, without having first consulted his friends; and she had no reason to expect that any of those he conversed with would give counsel in her favour.
To be reduced from a state of opulence and respect to one of poverty, contempt, and wretchedness, is terrible indeed! but much more so when accompanied with a consciousness of having deserved, by our vices and ill conduct, all the misfortunes we complain of.
Lady Mellasin having no pleasing reflection of having done her duty in any one point of life, it would not have been strange if, thus destitute of comfort from within, all succour from without, she had yielded herself to the last despair.
She, nevertheless, amidst all the distraction of her thoughts, still continued to testify a resolution seldom to be found among women of her abandoned principles; never departing from this maxim, that, in the worst of events, nothing was to be neglected. On the third day she sent Mrs. Prinks to wait upon Mr. Goodman for his answer; having experienced the little effect her daughter's presence had produced.
It is a thing well worth the observation of all degrees of people, that the truly generous never keep long in suspense the persons they think proper objects of their bounty. A favour that costs too much pains in obtaining, loses great part of it's value—it palls upon the mind of the receiver, and looks more like being extorted than bestowed.
Mr. Cowley, though a man whose great merit, one would think, should have set him above the necessity of making any request of