The Greatest Regency Romance Novels. Maria EdgeworthЧитать онлайн книгу.
Mellasin.
P.S. Having heard you say letters were left for you at this place, and that you stepped in once or twice every day, I thought it more proper to direct for you here than at your own lodgings. Once more adieu.—Do not fail to meet me at the hour.'
Scarce could the ghost of a forsaken mistress, drawing his curtains at the dead of night, have shocked Mr. Trueworth more than this epistle. He had, indeed, done no more than any man of his age and constitution would have done, if tempted in the manner he had been; yet he reproached himself severely for it. He knew how little this unhappy creature had her passions in subjection; and, though all the liking he ever had for her was now swallowed up in his honourable affections for Miss Harriot, yet he was too humane and too generous not to pity the extravagance of a flame he was no longer capable of returning. He wanted her to know there was a necessity for their parting; but knew not how to do it without driving her to extremes! He hated all kind of dissimulation; and, as neither his honour nor his inclinations would permit him to continue an amorous correspondence with her, he was very much at a loss how to put an end to it, without letting her into the real cause; which, as yet, he thought highly improper to do.
It cost him some time in debating within himself how he should behave in an affair which was, indeed, in the present situation of his heart, pretty perplexing: he considered Miss Flora as a woman of condition—as one who tenderly loved him—and as one who, on both these accounts, it would not become him to affront. He reflected also, that a woman, who had broke through all the rules of virtue, modesty, and even common decency, for the gratification of her wild desires, might, when denied that gratification, be capable of taking such steps as might not only expose her own character, but with it so much of his as might ruin him with Miss Harriot. He found it, therefore, highly necessary to disguise his sentiments, and act towards her in such a manner as should wean her affections from him by degrees, without his seeming to intend or wish for such an event.
He had but just come to this determination, when he was told from the bar that a lady in a hackney-coach desired to speak with him. He went directly to her; but, instead of ordering the man to drive to any particular house, bid him drive as slowly as he could round St. James's Square.
This very much startling her, she asked him what he meant. 'Are all the houses of entertainment in the town,' said she, 'shut up, that we must talk to each other in the street?'—'It is impossible for me, Madam,' answered he, 'to have the pleasure of your company this evening. I am engaged with some gentleman at the house where you found me, and have given my promise to return in ten minutes.' These words, and the reserved tone in which he spoke them, stabbed her to the heart. 'Ungenerous man!' cried she, 'is it thus you repay the most tender and ardent passion that ever was!'—'You ladies,' said he, 'when once you give way to the soft impulse, are apt to devote yourselves too much to it; but men have a thousand other amusements, which all claim a share in the variegated scenes of life. I am sorry, therefore, to find you disquieted in the manner your letter intimates. Love should be nursed by laughing, ease, and joy: sour discontent, reproaches, and complaints, deform it's native beauty, and render that a curse, which otherwise would be the greatest of our blessings. I beg you, therefore,' continued he, with somewhat more softness in his voice, 'for your own sake, to moderate this vehemence. Be assured I will see you as often as possible; and shall always think of you with the regard I ought to do.'
Perceiving she was in very great agonies, he threw his arms about her waist, and gave her a very affectionate salute; which, though no more than a brother might have offered to a sister, a little mitigated the force of her grief. 'I see I am undone!' cried she. 'I have lost your heart, and am the most wretched creature upon earth!'—'Do not say so,' replied he. 'I never can be ungrateful for the favours you have bestowed upon me; but discretion ought to be observed in an amour, such as ours. I have really some affairs upon my hands, which for a time will very much engross me. Make yourself easy, then; resume that gaiety which renders you so agreeable to the world; and, depend upon it, that to make me happy, you must be so yourself.'—'When, then, shall I see you?' cried she, still weeping, and hanging on his breast. 'As soon as convenience permits I will send to you,' said he; 'but there is a necessity for my leaving you at present.'
He then called to the coachman to drive back to the house where he had taken him up. It is not to be doubted but she made use of all the rhetorick of desperate dying love, and every other art she was mistress of, to engage him to prefix some time for their meeting; but he would not suffer himself to be prevailed upon so far: and he left her with no other consolation than a second embrace, little warmer than the former had been, and a repetition of the promise he had made of writing to her in a short time.
CHAPTER VII
May be called an appendix to the former, as it contains only some passages subsequent to the preceding occurrences.
What pain soever the good-nature and generosity of Mr. Trueworth had made him suffer, at the sight of the unfortunate Miss Flora's distress, it was dissipated by recalling to his mind the pleasing idea Sir Bazil had inspired in him, of succeeding in his wishes with the amiable Miss Harriot.
What sleep he had that night, doubtless, presented him with nothing but the delightful images of approaching joys; and, possibly, might give him some intimation of what was in those moments doing for him by those who were waking for his interest.
Mrs. Wellair, who was extremely cautious how she undertook any thing, without being fully convinced it was right, and no less industrious in accomplishing whatever she had once undertook, had employed all the time she had with her sister, before dinner, in representing to her, in the most pathetick terms, the passion Mr. Trueworth had for her, the extraordinary merits he was possessed of, and the many advantages of an alliance with him: but Miss Harriot was modest to that excess, that to be told, though from the mouth of a sister, she had inspired any inclinations of the sort she mentioned, gave her the utmost confusion. She had not considered the difference of sexes, and could not hear that any thing in her had reminded others of it, without blushing. The effects of her beauty gave her rather a painful than a pleasing sensation; and she was ready to die with shame at what the most part of women are studious to acquire, and look on as their greatest glory.
She offered nothing, however, in opposition to what Mrs. Wellair had said concerning the person or amiable qualities of Mr. Trueworth; neither, indeed, had she a will to do it. She had been always highly pleased with his conversation, and had treated him with the same innocent freedom she did her brother; and she was now afraid, that it was her behaving to him in this manner that had encouraged him to think of making his addresses to her as a lover. She looked back with regret on every little mark of favour she had shewn him, lest he should have construed them into a meaning which was far distant from her thoughts; and these reflections it was that occasioned that unusual pensiveness which Sir Bazil had observed in her at dinner, and which had given him some apprehensions proceeded from a cause less favourable to his friend.
Mrs. Wellair was not at all discouraged by the manner in which her sister had listened to this overture: she knew that several proposals of the same nature had been made to her in the country; all which she had rejected with disdain—a certain air of abhorrence widely different to what she testified on account of Mr. Trueworth; and this prudent lady rightly judged, that he had little else to combat with than the over-bashfulness of his mistress.
At night, on going to bed, she renewed the discourse; and pursued the theme she had begun with such success, that she brought Miss Harriot to confess she believed there was no man more deserving to be loved than Mr. Trueworth. 'But, my dear sister,' said she, 'I have no inclination to marry, nor to leave you: I am quite happy as I am, and desire to be no more so.' To which the other replied, that was childish talking; that she would, doubtless, marry some time or other; that she might, perhaps, never have so good an offer, and could not possibly have a better; therefore advised her not to slip the present opportunity; but, whenever Mr. Trueworth should make a declaration of his passion to herself, to receive it in such a manner as should not give him any room to imagine she was utterly averse to his pretensions.
Miss