The Greatest Regency Romance Novels. Maria EdgeworthЧитать онлайн книгу.
nor hearing any mention made of him, at least that she took notice of, the imagination went out of her head.
This account of him, however, brought to her memory every thing she had observed concerning him, and was very well convinced she had seen nothing, either in his person or deportment, that was not perfectly agreeable; yet, not withstanding all this, and the high encomiums given of him by a brother, who she knew would not deceive her, she was a little vexed to find herself pressed by one so dear and so nearly related to her, to think of him as a man she ever intended to marry: she thought she could be pleased to have such a lover, but could not bring herself to be content that he ever should be a husband. She had too much good sense not to know it suited not with the condition of wife to indulge herself in the gaieties she at present did; which though innocent, and, as she thought, becoming enough in the present state she now was, might not be altogether pleasing to one who, if he so thought proper, had the power of restraining them. In fine, she looked upon a serious behaviour as unsuitable to one of her years; and therefore resolved not to enter into a condition which demanded some share of it, at least for a long time; that is, when she should be grown weary of the admiration, flatteries, and addresses of the men, and no longer find any pleasure in seeing herself preferred before all the women of her acquaintance.
Though it is certain that few young handsome ladies are without some share of the vanity here described, yet it is to be hoped there are not many who are possessed of it in that immoderate degree Miss Betsy was. It is, however, for the sake of those who are so, that these pages are wrote, to the end they may use their utmost endeavours to correct that error, as they will find it so fatal to the happiness of one who had scarce any other blameable propensity in her whole composition.
This young lady was full of meditation on her new conquest, and the manner in which she should receive the victim, who was so shortly to prostrate himself at the shrine of her beauty, when she heard somebody run hastily up stairs, and go into Lady Mellasin's dressing-room, which being adjacent, as has been already taken notice of on a very remarkable occasion, she stepped out of the chamber to see who was there, and found Mrs. Prinks very busy at a cabinet, where her ladyship's jewels were always kept: 'So, Mrs. Prinks,' said she, 'is my lady come home?'—'No, Miss,' replied the other; 'her ladyship is certainly the most compassionate best woman in the world: her cousin is very bad indeed, and she has sent me for a bottle of reviving drops, which I am going back to carry.' With these words she shuffled something into her pocket, and having locked the cabinet again, went out of the room saying—'Your servant, Miss Betsy; I cannot stay, for life's at stake.'
This put Miss Betsy in the greatest consternation imaginable: she knew Lady Mellasin could have no drops in that cabinet, unless they were contained in a phial of no larger circumference than a thimble, the drawers of it being very shallow, and made only to hold rings, croceats, necklaces, and such other flat trinkets: she thought there was something very odd and extraordinary in the whole affair. A strange woman coming in so abrupt a manner, her refusing to give the letter to any one but Lady Mellasin herself, her ladyship's confusion at the receipt of it, her disguising herself, and going out with Prinks in that violent hurry, the latter being sent home, her taking something out of the casket, and her going back again; all these incidents, I say, when put together, denoted something of a mystery not easily penetrated into.
Miss Betsy, however, was not of a disposition to think too much, or too deeply, on those things which the most nearly concerned herself, much less on such as related entirely to other people; and Miss Flora coming home soon after, and relating what conversation had passed in the visits she had been making, and the dresses the several ladies had on, and such other trifling matters, diverted the other from those serious reflections, which might otherwise, perhaps, have lasted somewhat longer.
When Miss Flora was undressed, they went down together into the parlour, where they found Mr. Goodman extremely uneasy, that Lady Mellasin was not come home. He had been told in what manner she went out, and it now being grown dark, he was frighted lest any ill accident should befal her, as she had no man-servant, nor any one with her but her woman, whom, he said, he could not look on as a sufficient guard for a lady of quality, against those insults, which night, and the libertinism of the age, frequently produced.
This tender husband asked the young ladies a thousand questions, concerning the possibility of guessing to whom, and to what part of the town, she was gone, in order that he might go himself, or send a servant to conduct her safely home: but neither of them were able to inform him any thing farther than what has already been related; that she had been sent for to a sick relation, who, as it appeared to them, had been very pressing to engage her ladyship to that charitable office.
Mr. Goodman then began to endeavour to recollect the names, and places of abode, of all those he had ever heard her say were of her kindred, for she had never suffered any of them to come to the house, under pretence that some of them had not behaved well, and that others being fallen to decay, and poor, might expect favours from her, and that she would suffer nobody belonging to her to be burdensome to him.
He was, notwithstanding, about to send his men in search of his beloved lady, though he knew not where to direct them to go, when she and Mrs. Prinks came home: he received her with all the transports a man of his years could be capable of, but gently chid her for the little care she had taken of herself, and looking on her, as Mrs. Prinks was pulling off her hood, 'Bless me, my dear,' said he, 'what was your fancy for going out in such a dress?'—'My cousin,' replied she, 'is in very wretched circumstances, lives in a little mean lodging, and, besides, owes money; if I had gone any thing like myself, the people of the house might have expected great things from me. I am very compassionate, indeed, to every one under misfortunes; but will never squander Mr. Goodman's money for their relief.'
'I know thou art all goodness,' said the old gentleman, kissing her with the utmost tenderness: 'but something,' continued he, 'methinks, might be spared.'—'Leave it to me, Mr. Goodman,' answered she; 'I know best; they have not deserved it from me.' She then told a long story, how kind she had been to this cousin, and some others of her kindred, in her first husband's time, and gave some instances of the ill use they had made of her bounties. All she said had so much the appearance of truth, that even Miss Betsy, who was far from having a high opinion of her sincerity, believed it, and thought no farther of what had passed; she had, indeed, in a short time, sufficient businesses of her own to take up all her mind.
Mr. Goodman, the very next day, brought home a very agreeable young gentleman to dine with him; who, though he paid an extraordinary respect to Lady Mellasin, and treated her daughter with the utmost complaisance, yet in the compliments he paid to Miss Betsy, there was something which seemed to tell her she had inspired him with a passion more tender than bare respect, and more sincere than common complaisance.
She had very penetrating eyes this way, and never made a conquest without knowing she did so; she was not, therefore, wanting in all those little artifices she had but too much made her study, in order to fix the impression she had given this stranger as indelible as possible: this she had a very good opportunity for doing; he staid the whole afternoon, drank tea with the ladies, and left them not till a crowd of company coming in, he thought good manners obliged him to retire.
Miss Betsy was filled with the most impatient curiosity to know the name and character of this person, whom she had already set down in her mind as a new adorer: she asked Miss Flora, when they were going to bed, as if it were a matter of indifference to her, and merely for the sake of chat, who that gentleman was who had dined with them, and made so long a visit; but that young lady had never seen him before, and was as ignorant of every thing concerning him as herself.
Miss Betsy, however, lost no part of her repose that night, on this account, as she doubted not but she should very soon be informed by himself of all she wished to know: she was but just out of bed the next morning, when a maid-servant came into the chamber and delivered a letter to her, which she told her was brought by a porter, who waited for an answer.
Miss Betsy's heart fluttered at the mention of a letter, flattering herself it came from the person who at present engrossed her thoughts; but on taking it from the maid, found a woman's hand on the superscription, and one perfectly known to her, though at that instant she could not recollect to whom it belonged: she was a good