The Greatest Regency Romance Novels. Maria EdgeworthЧитать онлайн книгу.
ease, unaffected chearfulness, mixed with a becoming reserve, which that young lady testified in all her words and actions, with the capricious turns, the pride, the giddy lightness, he had observed in the behaviour of Miss Betsy, his admiration of the one was increased by his disapprobation of the other.
How great a pity it is, therefore, that a young lady, like Miss Betsy, so formed by heaven and nature to have rendered any man compleatly happy in possessing her, inferior to her fair competitor neither in wit, beauty, nor any personal or acquired endowment, her inclinations no less pure, her sentiments as noble, her disposition equally generous and benign; should, through her own inadvertency, destroy all the merit of so many amiable qualities; and, for the sake of indulging the wanton vanity of attracting universal admiration, forfeit, in reality, those just pretensions to which otherwise she had been entitled to from the deserving and the discerning few!
Mr. Trueworth, as the reader may have observed, did not all at once withdraw his affections from the first object of them, nor transmit them to the second but on very justifiable motives. The levity of Miss Betsy, and other branches of ill conduct, had very much weaned her from his heart before the wicked artifices of Miss Flora had rendered her quite contemptible in his opinion, and had not wholly devoted himself to the beauties of Miss Harriot, till he was quite convinced the perfections of her mind were such as could not fail of securing the conquest which her eyes had gained.
He did not however presently declare himself; he saw the friendship between the two sisters would be somewhat of an obstacle to his hopes; he had heard that Miss Harriot had rejected several advantageous proposals of marriage, merely because she would not be separated from Mrs. Wellair; he also found, that Sir Bazil, though for what reason he could not guess, seemed not very desirous of having his sister disposed of: the only probable way, therefore, he thought, of obtaining his wishes, was to conceal them till he found the means of insinuating himself so far into the good graces both of the one and the other, as to prevent them from opposing whatever endeavours he should make to engage their sister to listen to his suit.
The strategem had all the effect for which it was put in practice: the intimacy he had long contracted with Sir Bazil now grew into so perfect a friendship, that he scarce suffered a day to pass without an invitation to his house. Mrs. Wellair expressed the highest esteem and liking of his conversation; and Miss Harriot herself, not imagining of what consequence every word that fell from her was to him, said a thousand obliging things on his account; particularly, one day, after they had been singing a two-part song together, 'How often,' cried she to her sister, 'shall we wish for this gentleman, when we get into the country, to act the principal part in our little operas!'
All this he returned in no other manner than any man would have done who had no farther aim than to shew his wit and gallantry: so much of his happiness, indeed, depended upon the event, that it behoved him to be very cautious how he proceeded; and it is likely he would not have ventured to throw off the mask of indifference so soon as he did, if he had not been emboldened to it by an unexpected accident.
Among the number of those who visited the sisters of Sir Bazil, there was a young lady called Mrs. Blanchfield; she was born in the same town with them, but had been some time in London, on account of the death of an uncle, who had left her a large fortune: she had a great deal of vivacity and good-humour, which rendered both her person and conversation very agreeable; she passed in the eyes of most people for a beauty; but her charms were little taken notice of by Mr. Trueworth, though she behaved towards him in a manner which would have been flattering enough to a man of more vanity, or who had been less engrossed by the perfections of another.
By what odd means does fortune sometimes bring about those things she is determined to accomplish! Who could have thought this lady, with whom Mr. Trueworth had no manner of concern, and but a slight acquaintance, should even, unknowing it herself, become the happy instrument of having that done for him which he knew not very well how to contrive for himself? yet so it proved, in effect, as the reader will presently perceive.
Happening to call one morning on Sir Bazil while he was dressing 'O Trueworth!' said he, 'I am glad you have prevented me; for I was just going to your lodgings: I have something to acquaint you with, which I fancy you will think deserves your attention.'—'I suppose,' replied Mr. Trueworth, 'you would not tell me any thing that was not really so: but, pray, what is it?'
'What! you have made a conquest here, it seems,' resumed Sir Bazil; 'and may say, with Caesar, "Veni, vidi, vici!" Did your guardian angel, or no kind tattling star, give you notice of your approaching happiness, that you might receive the blessing with moderation?—Mr. Trueworth, not able to conceive what it was he meant, but imagining there was some mystery contained in this raillery, desired him to explain; 'For,' said he, 'the happiness you promise cannot come too soon.'
'You will think so,' replied Sir Bazil, 'when I tell you a fine lady, a celebrated toast, and a fortune of twenty thousand pounds in her own hands, is fallen in love with you.'—'With me!' cried Mr. Trueworth; 'you are merry this morning, Sir Bazil?'—'No, faith, I am serious,' resumed the other; 'the lady I speak of is Mrs. Blanchfield. I have heard her say abundance of handsome things of you myself; such as, that you were a very fine gentleman, that you had a great deal of wit, and sung well; but my sisters tell me, that when she is alone with them, she asks a thousand questions about you; and, in fine, talks of nothing else: so that, according to this account, a very little courtship would serve to make you master both of her person and fortune. What say you?'
'That I am neither vain enough to believe,' answered Mr. Trueworth, 'nor ambitious enough to desire, such a thing should be real.'—'How!' cried Sir Bazil, in some surprize; 'why, she is reckoned one of the finest women in town; has wit, good-nature; is of a good family, and an unblemished reputation. Then, her fortune! Though I know your estate sets you above wanting a fortune with a wife, yet I must tell you a fortune is a very pretty thing: children may come; and a younger brood must be provided for.'
'You argue very reasonably indeed,' replied Mr. Trueworth: 'but, pray,' pursued he, 'as you are so sensible of this lady's perfections, how happened it that you never made your addresses to her yourself?'—'I was not sure she would like me so well as she does you,' said he; 'besides, to let you into the secret, my heart was engaged before I ever saw her face, and my person had been so too by this time, but for an unlucky rub in my way.'
'What! Sir Bazil, honourably in love!' cried Mr. Trueworth. 'Aye, Charles! There is no resisting destiny,' answered he; 'I that have ranged through half the sex in search of pleasure; doated on the beauty of one, the wit of another, admired by turn their different charms, have at last found one in whom all I could wish in woman is comprized, and to whom I an unalterably fixed, beyond, even, I think, a possibility of change.'
'May I be trusted with the name of this admirable person', said Mr. Trueworth, 'and what impedes your happiness?'—'You shall know all,' replied Sir Bazil: 'in the first place, she is called Miss Mable.'—'What! Miss Mable of Bury Street!' cried Mr. Trueworth hastily. 'The same,' replied Sir Bazil: 'you know her, then?'—'I have seen her,' said Mr. Trueworth, 'in company with a lady I visited some time ago; and believe she is, in reality, the original of that amiable picture you have been drawing.'
'It rejoices me, however, that you approve my choice,' said Sir Bazil: 'but her father is, without exception, the most sordid, avaricious wretch, breathing; he takes more pleasure in counting over his bags than in the happiness of an only child; he seems glad of an alliance with me—encourages my pretensions to his daughter—is ready to give her to me to-morrow, if I please: yet refuses to part with a single shilling of her portion till he can no longer keep it; that is, he will secure to me ten thousand pounds after his decease; and adds, by way of cajole, that, perhaps, he will then throw in a better penny; but is positively determined to make no diminution of his substance while he lives. These,' continued he, 'are the only terms on which he will give his consent; and this it is which has so long delayed my marriage.'
Mr. Trueworth could not here forbear making some reflections on the cruelty and injustice of those parents who, rather than divide any part of their treasures with their children, suffer them to let slip the only crisis that could make their happiness. After which, Sir Bazil went on in his discourse.
'It is not,'