The Greatest Regency Romance Novels. Maria EdgeworthЧитать онлайн книгу.
among those Wretches, who are for the most part Gentlewomen but by Necessity, few of ’em having had an Education suitable to what they affect to appear, he chang’d the Form of his Conversation, and shew’d her it was not because he understood no better, that he had made use of Expressions so little polite.— In fine, they were infinitely charm’d with each other: He was transported to find so much Beauty and Wit in a Woman, who he doubted not but on very easy Terms he might enjoy; and she found a vast deal of Pleasure in conversing with him in this free and unrestrain’d Manner.They pass’d their Time all the Play with an equal Satisfaction; but when it was over, she found herself involv’d in a Difficulty, which before never enter’d into her Head, but which she knew not well how to get over.—The Passion he profess’d for her, was not of that humble Nature which can be content with distant Adorations:—He resolv’d not to part from her without the Gratifications of those Desires she had inspir’d; and presuming on the Liberties which her suppos’d Function allow’d of, told her she must either go with him to some convenient House of his procuring, or permit him to wait on her to her own Lodgings.—Never had she been in such a Dilemma:Three or four Times did she open her Mouth to confess her real Quality; but the Influence of her ill Stars prevented it, by putting an Excuse into her Head, which did the Business as well, and at the same Time did not take from her the Power of seeing and entertaining him a second Time with the same Freedom she had done this.—She told him, she was under
Obligations to a Man who maintain’d her, and whom she durst not disappoint, having promis’d to meet him that Night at a House hard by.—This Story so like what those Ladies sometimes tell, was not at all suspected by Beauplaisir; and assuring her he wou’d be far from doing her a Prejudice, desir’d that in return for the Pain he shou’d suffer in being depriv’d of her Company that Night, that she wou’d order her Affairs, so as not to render him unhappy the next. She gave a solemn Promise to be in the same Box on the Morrow Evening; and they took Leave of each other; he to the Tavern to drown the Remembrance of his Disappointment; she in a Hackney-Chair hurry’d home to indulge Contemplation on the Frolick she had taken, designing nothing less on her first Reflections, than to keep the Promise she had made him, and hugging herself with Joy, that she had the good Luck to come off undiscover’d.
But these Cogitations were but of a short Continuance, they vanish’d with the Hurry of her Spirits, and were succeeded by others vastly different and ruinous:—All the Charms of Beauplaisir came fresh into her Mind; she languish’d, she almost dy’d for another Opportunity of conversing with him; and not all the Admonitions of her Discretion were effectual to oblige her to deny laying hold of that which offer’d itself the next Night.—She depended on the Strength of her Virtue, to bear her safe thro’ Tryals more dangerous than she apprehended this to be, and never having been address’d by him as Lady,—was resolv’d to receive his Devoirs as a Town-Mistress, imagining a world of Satisfaction to herself in engaging him in the Character of such a one, and in observing the Surprise he would be in to find himself refused by a Woman, who he supposed granted her Favours without Exception.—Strange and unaccountable were the Whimsies she was possess’d of,—wild and incoherent her Desires,—unfix’d and undetermin’d her Resolutions, but in that of seeing Beauplaisir in the Manner she had lately done. As for her Proceedings with him, or how a second Time to escape him, without discovering who she was, she cou’d neither assure herself, nor whether or not in the last Extremity she wou’d do so.—Bent, however, on meeting him, whatever shou’d be the Consequence, she went out some Hours before the Time of going to the Playhouse, and took Lodgings in a House not very far from it, intending, that if he shou’d insist on passing some Part of the Night with her, to carry him there, thinking she might with more Security to her Honour entertain him at a Place where she was Mistress, than at any of his own chusing.
THE appointed Hour being arriv’d, she had the Satisfaction to find his Love in his Assiduity: He was there before her; and nothing cou’d be more tender than the Manner in which he accosted her: But from the first Moment she came in, to that of the Play being done, he continued to assure her no Consideration shou’d prevail with him to part from her again, as she had done the Night before; and she rejoic’d to think she had taken that Precaution of providing herself with a Lodging, to which she thought she might invite him, without running any Risque, either of her Virtue or Reputation.—Having told him she wou’d admit of his accompanying her home, he seem’d perfectly satisfy’d; and leading her to the Place, which was not above twenty Houses distant, wou’d have order’d a Collation to be brought after them. But she wou’d not permit it, telling him she was not one of those who suffer’d themselves to be treated at their own Lodgings; and as soon she was come in, sent a Servant, belonging to the House, to provide a very handsome Supper, and Wine, and every Thing was serv’d to Table in a Manner which shew’d the Director neither wanted Money, nor was ignorant how it shou’d be laid out.
This Proceeding, though it did not take from him the Opinion that she was what she appeared to be, yet it gave him Thoughts of her, which he had not before.—He believ’d her a Mistress,but believ’d her to be one of a superior Rank, and began to imagine the Possession of her would be much more Expensive than at first he had expected: But not being of a Humour to grudge any Thing for his Pleasures, he gave himself no farther Trouble, than what were occasioned by Fears of not having Money enough to reach her Price, about him.
SUPPER being over, which was intermixed with a vast deal of amorous Conversation, he began to explain himself more than he had done; and both by his Words and Behaviour let her know, he would not be denied that Happiness the Freedoms she allow’d had made him hope.—It was in vain; she would have retracted the Encouragement she had given:—In vain she endeavoured to delay, till the next Meeting, the fulfilling of his Wishes:—She had now gone too far to retreat:—He was bold;—he was resolute: She fearful,—confus’d, altogether unprepar’d to resist in such Encounters, and rendered more so, by the extreme Liking she had to him.—Shock’d, however, at the Apprehension of really losing her Honour, she struggled all she could, and was just going to reveal the whole Secret of her Name and Quality, when the Thoughts of the Liberty he had taken with her, and those he still continued to prosecute, prevented her, with representing the Danger of being expos’d, and the whole Affair made a Theme for publick Ridicule.—Thus much, indeed, she told him, that she was a Virgin, and had assumed this Manner of Behaviour only to engage him. But that he little regarded, or if he had, would have been far from obliging him to desist;—nay, in the present burning Eagerness of Desire, ’tis probable, that had he been acquainted both with who and what she really was, the Knowledge of her Birth would not have influenc’d him with Respect sufficient to have curb’d the wild Exuberance of his luxurious Wishes, or made him in that longing,—that impatient Moment, change the Form of his Addresses. In fine, she was undone; and he gain’d a Victory, so highly rapturous, that had he known over whom, scarce could he have triumphed more. Her Tears, however, and the Distraction she appeared in, after the ruinous Extasy was past, as it heighten’d his Wonder, so it abated his Satisfaction:—He could not imagine for what Reason a Woman, who, if she intended not to be a Mistress, had counterfeited the Part of one, and taken so much Pains to engage him, should lament a Consequence which she could not but expect, and till the last Test, seem’d inclinable to grant; and was both surpris’d and troubled at the Mystery.—He omitted nothing that he thought might make her easy; and still retaining an Opinion that the Hope of Interest had been the chief Motive which had led her to act in the Manner she had done, and believing that she might know so little of him, as to suppose, now she had nothing left to give, he might not make that Recompence she expected for her Favours: To put her out of that Pain, he pulled out of his Pocket a Purse of Gold, entreating her to accept of that as an Earnest of what he intended to do for her; assuring her, with ten thousand Protestations, that he would spare nothing, which his whole Estate could purchase, to procure her Content and Happiness. This Treatment made her quite forget the Part she had assum’d, and throwing it from her with an Air of Disdain, Is this a Reward (said she) for Condescentions, such as I have yeilded to?—Can all the Wealth you are possess’d of, make a Reparation for my Loss of Honour?—Oh! no, I am undone beyond the Power of Heaven itself to help me!—She uttered many more such Exclamations; which the amaz’d Beauplaisir heard without being able to reply to, till by Degrees sinking from that Rage of Temper,