The Greatest Regency Romance Novels. Maria EdgeworthЧитать онлайн книгу.
O then, how vain the wish that I pursue!
I would lose all myself, and mix with you;
Involv'd—embodied, with your beauties join,
As fires meet fires, and mingle in their shine;
Absorb'd in bliss, I would dissolving lie,
Become all you, and soul and body die.
Weigh well these symptoms, and then judge, in part,
The poignant anguish of the bleeding heart
Of him, who is, with unutterable love, resplendent charmer,
Your hoping, fearing, languishing adorer,
F. Fineer.
P.S. I propose to fly to the feet of my adorable about five o'clock this afternoon; do not, I beseech you, clip the wings of my devotion, by forbidding my approach.'
How acceptable, to a vain mind is even the meanest testimony of admiration! If Miss Betsy was not charmed with the elegance of this offering, she was at least very well pleased with the pains he took in composing it. In the humour she then was, she would perhaps have rewarded the labour of his brain, with giving him an opportunity of kissing her shoe a second time; but she expected her brother Frank about the hour he mentioned, with some intelligence of Mr. Trueworth, and had engaged to pass the evening abroad, as has been already mentioned.
She sent, however, a very complaisant message by the servant who brought the letter; she ordered he should come up into her dining-room, and then, with a great deal of sweetness, desired him to tell his master, that she was under a necessity of spending the whole day with some relations that were just come to town, therefore entreated he would defer the honour he intended her till some other time.
Mr. Francis Thoughtless did, indeed, call upon her, as she imagined he would: he had been at the lodgings of Mr. Trueworth; but as that gentleman happened to be abroad at the time he went, and he was now obliged to go with his brother on some business relating to the commission he was about to purchase, so he could not stay long enough with her to enter into any conversation of moment.
Miss Betsy had now full two hours upon her hands after her brother left her, to which she had appointed Mr. Munden to come to conduct her to the country-dancing; and as she had not seen Miss Mabel for a good while, and had heard that lady had made her several visits when she was not at home to receive them, she thought to take this opportunity of having nothing else to do, to return part of the debt which civility demanded from her to her friend. Accordingly, she set out in a hackney-coach, but met with an accident by the way, which not only disappointed her intentions, but likewise struck a strange damp on the gaiety of her spirits.
As they were driving pretty fast through a narrow street, a gentleman's chariot ran full against them, with such rapidity, that both received a very great shock, insomuch that the wheels were locked; and it was not without some difficulty, and the assistance of several people, who seeing what had happened, ran out of their shops and houses, that the coachmen were able to keep their horses from going on; which, had they done, both the machines must inevitably have been torn to pieces: there were two gentlemen in the chariot, who immediately jumped out; Miss Betsy screaming, and frighted almost to death, was also helped out of the coach by a very civil tradesman, before whose door the accident had happened; he led her into his shop, and made her sit down, while his wife ran to fetch a glass of water, and some hartshorn-drops.
Her extreme terror had hindered her from discovering who was in the chariot, or whether any one was there; but the gentlemen having crossed the way, and come into the same shop, she presently knew the one to be Sir Bazil Loveit, and the other Mr. Trueworth; her surprize at the sight of the latter was such as might have occasioned some raillery, if it had not been concealed under that which she had sustained before: Sir Bazil approached her with a very respectful bow, and made a handsome apology for the fault his man had committed, in not giving way when a lady was in the coach; to which she modestly replied, that there could be no fault where there was no design of offending. Mr. Trueworth then drawing near, with a very cold and reserved air, told her he hoped she would receive no prejudice by the accident.
'I believe the danger is now over,' said she, struck to the very heart at finding herself accosted by him in a manner so widely different from that to which she had been accustomed: scarce had she the fortitude to bear the shock it gave her; but, summoning to her aid all that pride and disdain could supply her with, to prevent him from perceiving how much she was affected by his behaviour—'I could not, however,' pursued she, with a tone of voice perfectly ironical, 'have expected to receive any consolation under this little disaster from Mr. Trueworth; I imagined, sir, that some weeks ago you had been reposing yourself in the delightful bowers, and sweet recesses, of your country-seat. How often have I heard you repeat with pleasure these lines of Mr. Addison's—
"Bear me, ye gods! t'Umbraia's gentle seats,
Or hide me in sweet Bayia's soft retreats?"
'Yet still I find you in this noisy, bustling town.' She concluded these words with a forced smile; which Mr. Trueworth taking no notice of, replied with the same gravity as before, 'I purposed, indeed, Madam, to have returned to Oxfordshire; but events then unforeseen have detained me.'
While they were speaking, Sir Bazil recollecting the face of Miss Betsy, which till now he had not done, cried, 'I think, Madam, I have had the honour of seeing you before this?'—'Yes, Sir Bazil,' replied she, knowing very well he meant at Miss Forward's, 'you saw me once in a place where neither you, nor anyone else, will ever see me again: but I did not then know the character of the person I visited.' To which Sir Bazil only replying, that he believed she did not, Mr. Trueworth immediately rejoined, that the most cautious might be once deceived.
The emphasis with which he uttered the word once, made Miss Betsy see that he bore still in his mind the second error she had been guilty of in visiting that woman; but she had no time to give any other answer than a look of scorn and indignation, Sir Bazil's footman telling him the chariot was now at liberty, and had received no damage: on which the gentlemen took their leave of her, Mr. Trueworth shewing no more concern in doing so, than Sir Bazil himself, or any one would have done, who never had more than a mere cursory acquaintance with her.
She would not be persuaded to go into the coach again, much less could she think of going on her intended visit; but desired a chair to be called, and went directly home, in order to give vent to those emotions which may easier be conceived than represented.
CHAPTER V
Seems to be calculated rather for the instruction than entertainment of the reader
How great soever was the shock Miss Betsy had sustained in this interview with Mr. Trueworth, he did not think himself much indebted to fortune for having thrown her in his way; he had once loved her to a very high degree; and though the belief of her unworthiness, the fond endearments of one woman, and the real merits of another, had all contributed to drive that passion from his breast, yet as a wound but lately closed is apt to bleed afresh on every little accident, so there required no less than the whole stock of the beautiful and discreet Miss Harriot's perfections, to defend his heart from feeling anew some part of its former pain, on this sudden and unexpected attack.
Happy was it for him, that his judgment concurred with his present inclination, and that he had such unquestionable reasons for justifying the transition he had made of his affections from one object to another; else might he have relapsed into a flame which, if ever it had been attended with any true felicity, must have been purchased at the expence of an infinity of previous disquiets.
He was now become extremely conversant with the family of Sir Bazil, visited there almost every day, was well received by both the sisters, and had many opportunities of penetrating into the real sentiments and dispositions of Miss Harriot; which he found to be such as his most sanguine wishes could have formed for the woman to be blest with whom he would make choice of for a wife. When he compared the steady temper,