The Greatest Regency Romance Novels. Maria EdgeworthЧитать онлайн книгу.
her, and therefore brought her to London with him, so that her persecution ceased not, he never stirring from her but when the most urgent business obliged him to it.
One night happening to have stayed pretty late abroad, and in company, which occasioned his drinking more plentifully than he was accustomed, Louisa was retired to her chamber in order to go to bed: his love, ever uppermost in his head, would not permit him to think of sleeping without seeing her; accordingly he ran up into her room, and finding she was not undressed, told her he had something to acquaint her with, on which the maid that waited on her withdrew. Tho' the passion he was inspired with could not be heightened, his behaviour now proved it might at least be rendered more ungovernable by being enflamed with wine: He no sooner was alone with her, than he threw himself upon her as she was sitting in a chair, crying, O when my angel, my dear adored Louisa, will you consent to make me blest.--By heaven, I can no longer wait the tedious formalities your modesty demands.--I cannot think you hate me, and must this night ensure you mine. While he spoke these words his lips were so closely cemented to her's, that had there been no other hindrance, it would have been impossible for her to have reply'd.--But terrified beyond measure at the wild disorder of his looks, the expressions he made use of, and the actions that accompanied them, she wanted even the power of repulsing, till seeing her almost breathless, he withdrew his arms which he had thrown round her neck, and contenting himself with holding one of her hands,--Tell me, pursued he, when may I hope a recompence for all I have suffered?--I must, I will have an end of all these fears of offending;--this cruel constaint;--this distance between us.--Few men, Louisa, in the circumstances we both are, would, like me, so long attend a happiness in my power to seize.--Trifle not therefore with a passion, the consequences of which there is no answering for.
O, sir! said she, with a trembling voice, you cannot, from the most generous, virtuous and honourable man living, degenerate into a brutal ravisher.--You will not destroy the innocence you have cherished, and which is all that is valuable in the poor Louisa. She ended these words with a flood of tears, which, together with the sight of the confusion he had occasioned, made him a little recollect himself; and to prevent the wildness of his desires from getting the better of those rules he had resolved to observe, he let go her hand, and having told her that he would press her no farther that night, but expected a more satisfactory answer the next day, went out of her chamber, and left her to enjoy what repose she could after the alarm he had given her.
CHAP. III.
Dorilaus continues his importunities, with some unexpected consequences that attended them.
Poor Louisa concealed the distraction she was in as much as possible she could from the maid, who immediately came into the room on Dorilaus having quitted it, and suffered her to undress, and put her to bed as usual; but was no sooner there, than instead of composing herself to sleep, she began to reflect on what he had said:--the words, that there was no answering for the consequences of a passion such as his, gave her the most terrible idea.--His actions too, this night, seem'd to threaten her with all a virgin had to fear.--She knew him a man of honour, but thought she had too much reason to suspect that if she persisted in refusing to be his wife, that passion which had influenced him, contrary to his character, to make her such an offer, would also be too potent for any consideration of her to restrain him from proceeding to extremities. Having debated every thing within her own mind, she thought she ought not to continue a day longer in the power of a man who loved her to this extravagant degree: where to go indeed she knew not;--she had no friend, or even acquaintance, to whom she might repair, or hope to be received.--How should she support herself then?--which way procure even the most common necessaries of life?--This was a dreadful prospect! yet appeared less so than that she would avoid: even starving lost its horrors when compared either to being compelled to wed a man whom she could not affect as a husband, or, by refusing him, run the risque of forfeiting her honour.--She therefore hesitated but a small time, and having once formed the resolution of quitting Dorilaus's house, immediately set about putting it into execution.
In the first place, not to be ungrateful to him as a benefactor, she sat down and wrote the following letter to be left for him on her table:
SIR,
'Heaven having rendered me of a disposition
utterly incapable of receiving the honour
you would do me, it would be an ill return for
all the unmerited favours you have heaped upon
me to prolong the disquiets I have unhappily occasioned
by continuing in your presence;--besides,
sir, the education you have vouchsafed to
give me has been such, as informs me a person
of my sex makes but an odd figure while in the
power of one of yours possessed of the sentiments
you are.'
'These, sir, are the reasons which oblige me to
withdraw; and I hope, when well considered,
will enough apologize for my doing so, to keep
you from hating what you have but too much
loved; for I beseech you to believe a great truth,
which is, that the most terrible idea I carry with
me is, lest while I fly the one, I should incur the
other; and that, wheresoever my good or ill stars
shall conduct me, my first and last prayers shall
be for the peace, health, and prosperity of my
most generous and ever honoured patron and benefactor.'
'Judge favourably, therefore, of this action,
and rather pity than condemn the unfortunate
LOUISA.'
Having sealed and directed this, she dressed herself in one of the least remarkable and plainest suits she had, taking nothing with her but a little linnen which she crammed into her pockets, and so sat waiting till she heard some of the family were stirring; then went down stairs, and being; seen by one of the footmen, she told him she was not very well, and was going to take a little walk in hopes the fresh air might relieve her; he offered to wait upon her, but she refused, saying, she chose to go alone.
Thus had she made her escape; but, when in the street, was seized with very alarming apprehensions.--She was little acquainted with the town, and knew not which way to turn in search of a retreat.--Resolving, however, to go far enough, at least, from the house she had quitted, she wandered on, almost tired to death, without stopping any where, till chance directed her to a retired nook, where she saw a bill for lodgings on one of the doors.--Here she went in, and finding the place convenient for her present circumstances, hired a small, but neat chamber, telling the people of the house that she was come to town in order to get a service, and till she heard of one to her liking, would be glad to do any needle-work she should be employed in.
The landlady, who happened to be a good motherly sort of woman, replied, that she was pleased with her countenance, or she would not have taken her in without enquiring into her character; and as she seemed not to be desirous of an idle life, she would recommend her to those that should find her work if she stayed with her never so long.
This was joyful news to our fair fugitive; and she blessed heaven for so favourable a beginning of her adventures. The woman was punctual to her promise; and being acquainted with a very great milliner, soon brought her more work than she could do, without encroaching into those hours nature requires for repose: but she seemed not to regret any fatigue to oblige the person who employed her, and sent home all she did so neat, so curious, and well wrought, that the milliner easily saw she had not been accustomed to do it for bread, and was very desirous of having her into the house, and securing her to herself. Louisa thinking it would be living with less care, agreed to go, on this condition,