The Greatest Regency Romance Novels. Maria EdgeworthЧитать онлайн книгу.
happiness.
Sir Bazil also having concluded every thing with the father of his mistress, brought that young lady acquainted with his sisters; who, highly approving their brother's choice, soon treated her, and were treated by her, with the same affection and familiarity as if already united.
There were few hours, excepting those allotted by nature and custom for repose, which this amiable company did not pass together. The old gentleman, who was extremely good-humoured when nothing relating to the parting with his money came on the carpet, would frequently make one among them; and being one day more than ordinarily chearful, told Mr. Trueworth that, as he found the two weddings were to be solemnized in one day, and he should give his daughter's hand to Sir Bazil, desired he might also have the honour of bestowing Miss Harriot's upon him: to which Mr. Trueworth replied, that he should joyfully receive her from any hands, but more particularly from his; and that he took the offer he made as a very great favour. On this, the other grew very gay, and said abundance of merry things, to the no small expence of blushes both in his daughter and Miss Harriot.
It is impossible for any lover, while waiting for the consummation of his wishes, to enjoy a more uninterrupted felicity than did Sir Bazil and Mr. Trueworth—continually blest with the society of their mistresses, and receiving from them all the marks that a virtuous affection could bestow: yet both of them found it requisite to contrive every day some new party of pleasure or other, in order to beguile the necessary, though to them tedious, time it took up in drawing of writings, and other preparations for the much longed-for nuptials; which Mrs. Wellair did not fail to do all on her part to hasten, being impatient to return to her family, whence she had been absent longer than she had intended.
Sir Bazil and Mr. Trueworth having been taking a little walk in the Park one morning, the former finding himself so near the habitation of Miss Mabel, could not forbear calling on her, though she was to dine that day at his house, and Mr. Trueworth accompanied him. That lady was then at her toilette, but made no scruple of admitting them into her dressing-room, where they had scarce seated themselves, when her woman, who was waiting, was called out by a footman to speak to some people, who, he said, were very importunate to see Miss Mabel, and would take no answer from him.
'Rude guests, indeed,' cried Miss Mabel, 'that will not take an answer from a servant!—Who are they?'—'I never saw them before, Madam,' replied the footman: 'but the one is a woman of a very mean appearance, and the other, I believe, is a soldier. I told them your ladyship had company, and could not be seen; but the man said he only begged one word with you; that he has just come from abroad, and wanted to know where he might see his child, and a deal of such stuff. The woman is almost as impertinent as the man; and I cannot get them from the door.'
'I will lay my life upon it, Madam,' said the waiting maid, 'that this is the father of the child that you and Miss Betsy Thoughtless have been so good to keep ever since the mother's death.'—'I verily believe thou hast hit upon the right!' cried Miss Mabel. 'Pr'ythee go down; and, if it be as thou imaginest, bid them come up—I will see them.'
The maid went as she was ordered, and immediately returned with two persons, such as the footman had described. The woman was the first that advanced, and, after dropping two or three curtseys to each of the company, addressed herself to Miss Mabel in these words—'I do not know, Madam,' said she, 'whether your ladyship may remember me; but I nursed poor Mrs. Jinks, your ladyship's sempstress and clear-starcher, all the time of her lying-in, when your ladyship and Madam Betsy Thoughtless were so good as to stand godmothers, and afterwards took the child, that it might not go to the parish.'
'I remember you very well,' said Miss Mabel: 'but, pray, what is your business with me now?'—'Why, Madam,' said she, 'your ladyship must know, that Mrs. Jinks's husband has seen his folly at last—has left the army, and is resolved to take up and settle in the world: so, Madam, if your ladyship pleases, he would willingly have his child.'
'O doubtless, he may have his child!' rejoined Miss Mabel.—'But, hark'e, friend,' continued she, turning to the man, 'are you able to keep your child?'—'Yes, Madam,' answered he, coming forward, 'thank God, and good friends. I had an uncle down in Northamptonshire, who died a while ago, and left me a pretty farm there; and so, as my neighbour here was telling you, I would not have my child a burden to any body.'—'If we had thought it a burden,' said Miss Mabel, 'we should not have taken it upon us; however, I am glad you are in circumstances to maintain it yourself. Your wife was a very honest, industrious woman, and suffered a great deal through your neglect; but I hope you will make it up in the care of the child she has left behind.'
'Aye, Madam,' replied he, wiping his eyes, 'I have nothing else to remember her! I did not use her so well as she deserved, that's certain: but I have sowed all my wild oats, as the saying is; and I wish she were alive to have the benefit of it.'
'That cannot be,' interrupted the woman; 'so don't trouble good Madam with your sorrowful stories. If her ladyship will be so good only to give us directions where to find the child; for we have been to Madam Betsy's, and her ladyship was not at home; so we made bold to come here.'—'Yes, Madam,' cried he, 'for my colonel comes to town in a day or two, and I shall get my discharge, and have no more to do with the service; so would willingly have my child to take down with me to the farm.'
Miss Mabel made no other answer to this, than saying it was very well; and immediately gave them the direction they requested to Goody Bushman's, at Denham. 'I cannot tell you exactly where the house is,' said she: 'but you will easily find her; the husband is a gardener, and she has been a nurse for many years.'
The fellow seemed extremely pleased, thanked her as well as he could in his homely fashion, and desired she would be so kind as to give his duty to the other lady, and thank her also, for her part of the favours both his wife and child had received; nor had he forgot his manners so far as not to accompany the testimonies of his gratitude with a great many low scrapes, till he got quite out of the room.
After this, Sir Bazil began to grow a little pleasant with Miss Mabel concerning the motherly part she had been playing. 'You do me more honour than I deserve,' said she, laughing; 'for it was but half a child I had to take care of; so, consequently, I could but be half a mother. I am glad, however,' continued she, more seriously, 'that my little goddaughter has found a father.'
While they were talking in this manner, the old gentleman happening to come in, and hearing Sir Bazil was above with his daughter, sent to desire to speak with him in his closet.
Miss Mabel being now alone with Mr. Trueworth, thought she saw something in his countenance which very much surprized her. 'You are pensive, Sir!' said she. 'I hope the mention we have been making of Miss Betsy has given you no alarm.'—'A very great one,' answered he; 'but not on the account you may, perhaps, imagine. I have wronged that lady in the most cruel manner; and, though the injury I have done her went no farther than my own heart, yet I never can forgive myself for harbouring sentiments which, I now find, were so groundless and unjust.'
As it was not possible for Miss Mabel to comprehend the meaning of these words, she intreated him, somewhat hastily, to explain the mystery they seemed to contain: on which he made no scruple of repeating to her the substance of the letter he had received; his going down to Denham, in order to convince himself more fully; and the many circumstances which, according to all appearances, corroborated the truth of that infamous scandal.
Never was astonishment equal to that Miss Mabel was in on hearing the narrative of so monstrous a piece of villainy. 'Good God!' cried she, 'I know Miss Betsy has many enemies, who set all her actions in the worst light, and construe every thing she says and does into meanings she is ignorant of herself: but this is so impudent, so unparalleled a slander, as I could not have thought the malice of either men or devils could have invented!'
'Indeed, Madam,' said Mr. Trueworth, 'should fortune ever discover to me the author of this execrable falsehood, I know no revenge I could take that would be sufficient, both for traducing the innocence of that lady, and the imposition practised upon myself.' Miss Mabel agreed with him, that no punishment could be too bad for the inventors of such cruel aspersions; and, having a little vented her indignation on all who were capable of the like practices, 'I suppose, then,' said she, 'that it was owing to this wicked