The Greatest Regency Romance Novels. Maria EdgeworthЧитать онлайн книгу.
Harriot suffered her to ruge her on this point for a considerable time; but at last replied, in a low and hesitating voice, that she would be guided by her friends, who, she was perfectly convinced, had her interest at heart, and knew much better than herself what conduct she ought to observe. To which Mrs. Wellair replied, that she doubted not but the end would abundantly justify the advice that had been given her.
The first thing this lady did in the morning, was to go to her brother's chamber, and acquaint him with all that had passed between herself and Miss Harriot; after which they agreed together, that Mr. Trueworth should have an opportunity that very day of making his addresses to her.
Though Sir Bazil thought it needless to add any thing to what was already done, yet he could not forbear taking an occasion, when they were at breakfast, to mention Mr. Trueworth's name, and the many good qualities he was possessed of. Mrs. Wellair joined in the praises her brother gave him; but Miss Harriot spoke not a word: on which, 'Are you not of our opinion, sister?' cried he to her. 'Yes, brother,' answered she; 'Mr. Trueworth is certainly a very fine gentleman.'—'How cold is such an expression,' resumed Sir Bazil, 'and even that extorted!'—'You would not, sure, Sir,' said she, a little gaily, 'have me in raptures about him, and speak as if I were in love with him?'
'Indeed, but I would!' cried Sir Bazil; 'and, what is more, would also have you be so: he deserves it from you; and, as you must some time or other be sensible of the tender passion, you cannot do it at more suitable years.'—'I see no necessity,' replied she, 'for my being so at any years.'
'It is a sign, then,' said he, 'that you have not consulted nature. Have you never read what Lord Lansdown has wrote upon this subject? If you have not, I will repeat it to you—
"In vain from Fate we strive to fly;
For, first or last, as all must die,
So, 'tis decreed by those above,
That, first or last, we all must love."'
'Poets are not always prophets,' answered she, laughing. 'It depends upon Mr. Trueworth himself,' said Sir Bazil, 'to prevent you from giving the lie to the prediction. If he fails, I shall believe no other man in the world will ever have the power to engage you to fulfil it; he dines here to-day. Sister Wellair and I are obliged to go abroad in the afternoon; so must desire you to make tea, and entertain him, as well as you can, till we come back.'
'I see you are both in the plot against me,' cried she; 'but I shall endeavour to behave so as not to affront your guest; yet, at the same time, be far from making good your oracle.'
A gentleman coming in to Sir Bazil, broke off their discourse, and relieved Miss Harriot from any farther persecution at this time. It was not that she disliked either the person or conversation of Mr. Trueworth, or that she was tired with the praises given him by her brother and sister; on the contrary, she found a thousand things which they had not mentioned, to admire in him: in fine, he was, in reality, less indifferent to her than she herself imagined; but there was a certain shyness in her disposition, which mingled some share of pain with the pleasure of hearing him spoke of as her lover.
She was sensible this propensity, which nature had implanted, was a weakness in her; but, though she used her utmost efforts for overcoming it, she found herself unequal to the task. In vain she considered, that the addresses of a man of such perfect honour and politeness as Mr. Trueworth, could not but be accompanied with the most profound respect: in vain she called to mind the example of other ladies, whom she had seen behave in the company of those who professed themselves their lovers, with the greatest ease and sprightliness; the very sight of Mr. Trueworth, as she saw him from her chamber-window, talking with her brother in the garden, threw her heart into palpitations, which all the reason she was mistress of could not enable her to quiet; but, when obliged to go down and sit with him at table, her confusion increased, by being more near the object which occasioned it. She endeavoured to treat him with the same freedom she had been accustomed; but it was not in her power: in fine, never woman suffered more in constraining herself to be silent and demure, than she did in constraining herself to be talkative and gay.
What, then, became of her, when Sir Bazil and Mrs. Wellair, after making a formal excuse for a short absence, went out, and left her exposed to the solicitations of a passion which her timid modesty had made her so much dread.
The moment Mr. Trueworth saw himself alone with her, he approached her with the most tender and respectful air. 'How often, Madam, have I languished for an opportunity, such as this, of telling you how much my soul adores you! My dear friend, Sir Bazil, has assured me he has prepared you to forgive the boldness of my flame, and that, for his sake, you will vouchsafe to listen to my vows; but it is from myself alone you can be convinced of the ardency of the love you have inspired.'
'My brother, Sir,' answered she, blushing, 'has, indeed, informed me that I have obligations to you of a nature which I was as far from expecting as I am far from deserving.' Here Mr. Trueworth began to run into some praises on the charms which had subdued his heart; which, though no more than dictated by his real sentiments, seemed to her too extravagant, and beyond what her modesty would suffer her to endure. 'Hold, Sir!' cried she, interrupting him; 'if you would have me believe your professions are sincere, forbear, I beseech you, to talk to me in this manner. It is an ill-judged policy, methinks, in you men, to idolize the women too much you wish would think well of you. If our sex are, in reality, so vain as you generally represent us, on whom but yourselves can the fault be laid? And if we prove so weak as to imagine ourselves such as either the flattery or the partial affection of the lover paints us, we shall be apt to take every thing as our due, and think little gratitude is owing for the offering he makes us of his heart.'
Mr. Trueworth was perfectly ravished at hearing her speak thus; but durst not express himself with too much warmth on the occasion. 'It must be confessed, Madam,' replied he, 'that the beauties of the person, when not accompanied by those of the mind, afford but a short-lived triumph to the fair possessor; they dazzle at first sight, and take the senses, as it were, by surprize; but the impression soon wears off, and the captivated heart gains it's former liberty: nay, perhaps, wonders at itself for having been enslaved; whereas those darts which fly from the perfections of the mind, penetrate into the soul, and fix a lasting empire there. But when both these charms shall happen to be united, as in the lovely Harriot,' continued he, taking one of her hands and kissing it; 'when in the most enchanting form that nature ever made, is found a soul enriched with every virtue, every grace—how indissoluble is the chain! how glorious the bondage!'
'Love is a theme I have never made my study,' answered she; 'but, according to my notions of the matter, those gentlemen who pretend to be affected by it, give themselves more trouble than they need. As that passion is generally allowed rather to be the child of fancy, than of real merit in the object beloved, I should think it would be sufficient for any man, in his addresses to a lady, to tell her that she happens to hit his taste—that she is what he likes; without dressing her up in qualities which, perhaps, have no existence but in his own imagination.'
'Where love is founded on beauty alone, as I have already said,' resumed Mr. Trueworth, 'the instructions you give, Madam, are certainly very just; for, indeed, no farther could be warranted by sincerity: but where reason directs the lover's choice, and points out those excellences which alone can make him happy in the possession of his wishes, ideas more sublime will naturally arise, and we can never too much admire, or praise, what is immediately from the divine source of perfection! It is not, O charming Harriot!' pursued he, looking on her with the utmost tenderness; 'it is not these radiant eyes, that lovely mouth, nor that sweet majesty that shines through all your air, but it is the heaven within that I adore: to that I pay my present worship, and on that build all my hopes of future bliss!'
Miss Harriot was about to make some reply; but his looks, the vehemence with which he uttered these last words, and the passionate gesture which accompanied them, made her relapse into her former bashfulness, from which she had a little recovered herself, and again deprived her of the power of speech.
'You give up the point, then, my angel!' cried he, perceiving she was silent; 'and I am glad you do; for had you continued to prohibit my expatiating on these matters, which made me your adorer, I must have maintained the