How will you plume yourself on your sagacity, Cecilia, when you read this account of my love, which you so wisely foretold? I can tell you I am trying to like Mr Arnold as fast as I can; I make him sing and play for this purpose from morning till night, for he is here every day and all day. Lady Grimston holds her head a quarter of a yard higherthan she did before; and looks, as who should say, it wasIthat brought this about. The dean is as frolick as May-day upon it; for he is very fond of Mr Arnold; but tells him he will not forgive him for robbing him of his second wife; for such, he says, he intended me. I think his daughter (a pretty girl of about seventeen) looks a little grave of late. I hope she does not like Mr Arnold herself. I wish my mother would take it into her head that she was in love with him, and that Mr Arnold had promised to marry her; then should I a second time crown me with a willow garland. But there is no fear of this, or rather no hope.
Lady Grimston has given my mothersucha character of Mr Arnold, that if you will take her word for it, there is not a man like him in the world; and my mother firmly believes every syllable she says. She told me to day she would write to Sir George, to give him an account of the matter, and desire his advice. This is a compliment she would not omit paying, for any consideration, tho’ I know my brother’s judgment has now lost all credit with her; and that, let his opinion be what it will, she is firmly resolved on her new plan. Knowing as you do my mother’s firmness, when once she is possessed with a thing, you will not wonder that I did not make attempts to alter her mind, which I knew would be fruitless. She likes Mr Arnold prodigiously; she piques herself on her skill in physiognomy, and says, if she is deceived in this gentleman, she will never again rely on that science. Lady Grimston is so fond of him, that I wonder she did not marry him herself.
We have received two letters from Sir George; one in answer to my mother’s letter, the other to me. I will give them both to you: the following is a copy of that to my mother.
Madam,I thank you for the honour you do me in asking my advice, in regard to the proposal of marriage you have received for my sister; but I am entirely disqualified from giving you any, as I am an absolute stranger both to the person and character of the gentleman you mention; and know no more of him, than that I have heard thereissuch a person, who has some estate in the county where you now you are.As you are absolute mistress of your daughter’s will, as well asof her person, I shall not presume to interfere in this nice point. If the marriage is notalreadyagreed upon (which may be the case, notwithstanding the compliment you do me the favour to pay me), I think it would be generous in you to see Miss B. and hear what she has to say, before you proceed farther; but in this, as in every thing else, your own discretion must guide you.I am,Madam,Your affectionate son,and most obedient servant,George Bidulph.London,Sept. 22.
Madam,
I thank you for the honour you do me in asking my advice, in regard to the proposal of marriage you have received for my sister; but I am entirely disqualified from giving you any, as I am an absolute stranger both to the person and character of the gentleman you mention; and know no more of him, than that I have heard thereissuch a person, who has some estate in the county where you now you are.
As you are absolute mistress of your daughter’s will, as well asof her person, I shall not presume to interfere in this nice point. If the marriage is notalreadyagreed upon (which may be the case, notwithstanding the compliment you do me the favour to pay me), I think it would be generous in you to see Miss B. and hear what she has to say, before you proceed farther; but in this, as in every thing else, your own discretion must guide you.
I am,Madam,Your affectionate son,and most obedient servant,George Bidulph.
London,Sept. 22.
My mother was exceedingly displeased with this letter. She said Sir George had a haughtiness in him that was very offensive to her. I have acquitted myself in applying to him, and shall give myself no farther trouble about him or his opinion. As for Miss B. I think she can hardly be under a necessity of coming to town as yet, and that affair may keep cold, for I have but little curiosity to hear what the poor Soul may be prompted to say, as I am sure I shall be time enough to afford her any assistance she may stand in need of. This was the whole of her observation. My brother’s letter to me is as follows:
Dear Sidney,I received with concern (though I own not with surprize) an account from my mother, of a new treaty of marriage that is on foot between you and a Mr Arnold, of whom I know nothing. Instead of congratulating you upon this occasion, I cannot help condoling with you; for I have a better opinion of your heart than to suppose it can have so soon renounced poor Faulkland. I do not reproach you for your acquiescence in giving him up: Iknowyou could not do otherwise; but why in the name of precipitancy are you to be hurried into wedlock already? You went into the country to recover your health, I thought; prithee, how comes this new husband into your way? I know, child, it is not of your seeking, and do from my heart pity you.I would by no means have you guilty of a breach of duty to our mother; but for Heaven’s sake, why don’t you try your influence over her, to have this sudden scheme of matrimony suspended, till she sees and talks to this girl that Faulkland refers her to? If the wench owns that he was not to blame so much as she herself was, and relinquishes all pretensions to him, don’t you think she (my mother I mean) would in that case remain bound in honour to yield you to his prior claim?Indeed, Sidney, I must blame you for this part of your conduct; it looks like a strange insensibility in you.I know you will urge your perfect submission to your mother’s will; and I know too, thatwillis as absolute as that of an Eastern monarch. I therefore repeat it, I do not mean to reproach you with your compliance, but I am vexed to the heart, and must give it vent.I see plainly that old piece of formality, lady Grimston’s infernal shrivelled paw in all this. For my mother of herself, I am sure, would not have thought of disposing of you, without your liking, so soon after an affair that had created you so much uneasiness, unless it had been suggested to her by somebody. Prithee tell me what sort of man this Arnold really is, for I do not depend on the partial representations I have had of him.I wish Miss B. were come to town, but she is not yet arrived. I enquired for her of Faulkland’s housekeeper, by the name of Jefferis. The woman is at the house at Putney waiting to receive her, but does not know how soon she will come. Would she had been buried before Faulkland saw her!I shall expect a letter from you soon. How comes it that you never mentioned Mr Arnold to me in any that you have writ? But I excuse you, and amYour affectionate brother,G.B.London, Sept. 22.
Dear Sidney,
I received with concern (though I own not with surprize) an account from my mother, of a new treaty of marriage that is on foot between you and a Mr Arnold, of whom I know nothing. Instead of congratulating you upon this occasion, I cannot help condoling with you; for I have a better opinion of your heart than to suppose it can have so soon renounced poor Faulkland. I do not reproach you for your acquiescence in giving him up: Iknowyou could not do otherwise; but why in the name of precipitancy are you to be hurried into wedlock already? You went into the country to recover your health, I thought; prithee, how comes this new husband into your way? I know, child, it is not of your seeking, and do from my heart pity you.
I would by no means have you guilty of a breach of duty to our mother; but for Heaven’s sake, why don’t you try your influence over her, to have this sudden scheme of matrimony suspended, till she sees and talks to this girl that Faulkland refers her to? If the wench owns that he was not to blame so much as she herself was, and relinquishes all pretensions to him, don’t you think she (my mother I mean) would in that case remain bound in honour to yield you to his prior claim?
Indeed, Sidney, I must blame you for this part of your conduct; it looks like a strange insensibility in you.
I know you will urge your perfect submission to your mother’s will; and I know too, thatwillis as absolute as that of an Eastern monarch. I therefore repeat it, I do not mean to reproach you with your compliance, but I am vexed to the heart, and must give it vent.
I see plainly that old piece of formality, lady Grimston’s infernal shrivelled paw in all this. For my mother of herself, I am sure, would not have thought of disposing of you, without your liking, so soon after an affair that had created you so much uneasiness, unless it had been suggested to her by somebody. Prithee tell me what sort of man this Arnold really is, for I do not depend on the partial representations I have had of him.
I wish Miss B. were come to town, but she is not yet arrived. I enquired for her of Faulkland’s housekeeper, by the name of Jefferis. The woman is at the house at Putney waiting to receive her, but does not know how soon she will come. Would she had been buried before Faulkland saw her!
I shall expect a letter from you soon. How comes it that you never mentioned Mr Arnold to me in any that you have writ? But I excuse you, and am
Your affectionate brother,G.B.
London, Sept. 22.
You see this is Sir George himself, my dear, a mixture of petulancy and indelicacy. There is one thing in him, however, commendable; his steady adherence to his friend’s interests. You find how impossible for me it is to shew such a letter to my mother: by his strange unguarded manner of writing, which he does not consider, he defeats his own purposes; for if any use could be made of that part of his letter relative to Miss B. I could not shew my mother part, without letting her see the whole: but that is not to be done; and I can only thank my good fortune that I received this, and the last letter from him, without her knowlege.
I will now give you my answer to this letter, which I wrote, by the return of the post.
Dear Brother,I thank you for your condolements, but can assure you my heart is not in such a situation as to require any. I own I had all the esteem for Mr Faulkland, which I thought his merit deserved. Duty to my good mother, and an undeniable blemish in his character, first wrought a change in my sentiments towards him: my own peace of mind now requires me to improve that change into indifference.You do me justice in supposing that I should never think of seeking a husband; and you have formed as right a judgment in regard to lady Grimston’s being the promoter of this union. As for Mr Arnold, though perhaps (had I never known your friend) he might not have been the man of my choice, yet have I no dislike to him. I believe him to be a very worthy gentleman; and that my mother has not been partial in her representations. I am sure, at least, she has said nothing of him but what she has seen, or been told, and has good reason to believe.I wish, dear brother, you had writ with more caution, that I might have laid before my mother what you said in relation to Miss B. It may have its weight with me, though I cannot answer for its having any with her. Do you forget her having told me, that she conceived a sort of horror at the thoughts of my marrying Mr Faulkland? She cannot but be sensible, that Miss B. is not without her share of blame in that affair, which has so perplexed us all. But you know too that does not exculpate Mr Faulkland. The young lady’s relinquishing her hopes (for a claim I think she does not make), would only the more excite my mother’s compassion, and interest her in her favour. To sum up the whole in one word, my mother is resolved, and you yourself acknowlege that her will is absolute. She has used the most irresistible argument to obtain my consent,viz.that it would makeherhappy. Spare then, my dear brother, unkind reflections on any part of my behaviour; for I am determined to pursue, through life, that rule of conduct, which I have hitherto invariably adhered to; I mean that of preferring to my own the happiness of those who are most dear to me.I am, &c.
Dear Brother,
I thank you for your condolements, but can assure you my heart is not in such a situation as to require any. I own I had all the esteem for Mr Faulkland, which I thought his merit deserved. Duty to my good mother, and an undeniable blemish in his character, first wrought a change in my sentiments towards him: my own peace of mind now requires me to improve that change into indifference.
You do me justice in supposing that I should never think of seeking a husband; and you have formed as right a judgment in regard to lady Grimston’s being the promoter of this union. As for Mr Arnold, though perhaps (had I never known your friend) he might not have been the man of my choice, yet have I no dislike to him. I believe him to be a very worthy gentleman; and that my mother has not been partial in her representations. I am sure, at least, she has said nothing of him but what she has seen, or been told, and has good reason to believe.
I wish, dear brother, you had writ with more caution, that I might have laid before my mother what you said in relation to Miss B. It may have its weight with me, though I cannot answer for its having any with her. Do you forget her having told me, that she conceived a sort of horror at the thoughts of my marrying Mr Faulkland? She cannot but be sensible, that Miss B. is not without her share of blame in that affair, which has so perplexed us all. But you know too that does not exculpate Mr Faulkland. The young lady’s relinquishing her hopes (for a claim I think she does not make), would only the more excite my mother’s compassion, and interest her in her favour. To sum up the whole in one word, my mother is resolved, and you yourself acknowlege that her will is absolute. She has used the most irresistible argument to obtain my consent,viz.that it would makeherhappy. Spare then, my dear brother, unkind reflections on any part of my behaviour; for I am determined to pursue, through life, that rule of conduct, which I have hitherto invariably adhered to; I mean that of preferring to my own the happiness of those who are most dear to me.
I am, &c.
Mr Arnold has so many advocates here, that his interest cannot fail of being promoted. Mrs Vere admires him; the Dean commends him; my mother praises him; lady Grimston extols him to the skies. No one is silent, but the young girl that I mentioned to you before; she only colours and hangs down her head when he is spoken of. I really begin to fear that the poor thing loves him; but he never made any addresses to her, and I hope does not suspect it.
Things are now gone so far, that my mother and lady Grimston talked to day of settlements. Mr Arnold receives but twelve hundred pounds a year from his estate; his brother’s widow, as I have already told you, having a jointure upon it of three hundred pounds a year. She lives intirely in London, and is, I am told, a very imprudent woman, and not at all esteemed by the family. The elder Mr Arnold and she were married several years, but never had a child; the last two years of his life his wife and he lived separate, her conduct having given room for some suspicions, very injurious to her husband’s honour.
The Arnold estate was originally a very considerable one, but has been dissipated by the extravagance of the successive possessors. What remains, however, is quite clear, and is likely to be kept so by the good management of the present owner. His late brother was exceedingly remiss in his affairs, and spent most of his time in London; and if it had not been for Mr Arnold, the mansion-house would have fallen to the ground; but his brother lent it to him, and he kept it in repair for his own use, as he is fond of the place: though he has a pretty house in Kent, belonging to another estate of about three hundred pounds a year, which came to him by his mother, for he is the son of a second marriage. And this, till his brother’s death, was the whole of his income; but he is so good an oeconomist, that he always made a genteeler figure on his three hundred pounds a year, than his brother did on twelve.
My mother, who you know is integrity itself, thinks that I ought not to have more settled on me than the widow of Mr Arnold’s brother had, whose fortune was superior to mine. Mr Arnold makes a much handsomer proposal; lady Grimston is for laying hold of it. The Dean was for striking a medium. I do not care how they settle it; but I fancy my mother will have her own way in this.
She purposes going to town next week, that the wedding—(bless me!whose wedding is it that I am talking of so coolly?) well—that it may be celebrated in her own house. This to be sure will send Sir George directly out of it. I cannot help it; I am born to give, and to receive vexation.
Mr Arnold speaks of taking a house in London, where my mother is to have an apartment whenever she chuses to be in town. This is a pleasing circumstance to me; and shelikewiseproposes our being sometimes with her at Sidney-castle. That is a prospect which loses much of its charms, by the reflection that my dear Cecilia is not there.
All preliminaries are settled. There has been a fuss with parchments this week past. My mother has carried her point, in regard to the jointure; and has made choice of that little estate in Kent to be settled on me, as it is a complete three hundred pounds a year, detached intirely from the rest, and has a pretty house on it. This was all she would accept of, though, to do Mr Arnold justice, he would have been much more liberal; but, my mother says, a single woman, bred in retirement as I have been, who cannot live on that, does not deserve to live at all; adding, that as the estate was already subject to one jointure, and the widow so young a woman; if it should be also my misfortune to become one early, a great part of the fortune would be swallowed by dowagers, and the heir not have enough to support his rank.
This morning my mother, lady Grimston, the Dean, and Mr Arnold (who is the idol of them all) took a rumbling together in the old coach, by way of taking the air, in a dusty road; and what do you think was the result of their deliberations in this jaunt? Why truly lady Grimston, proud of her handy-work, would needs see it accomplished; and nothing will serve her, but I must be married at her house. My mother opposed it at first, but the Dean seconded the proposal, that he might have (as he expressed himself) the satisfaction of contributinghimselfto make Mr Arnold happy; and Mr Arnold (audaciously expecting, I suppose, that this would hasten the ceremony) joined his intreaties so effectually, that my mother was obliged to yield.
What a tormenting old woman is this lady Grimston! I hoped, atleast, for the respite of a month, by getting to London. I thought first to have delayed the time of our going to town, and then to have faddled away a good while longer under pretence of preparations; though there is but little room for that now, as all my fineries, destined I thought to another purpose, are lying quietly in my trunks at home. But then one might have contrived many little occasions of delay. There was a house to be fixed upon, and I had twenty things to do, and, as my mother says, many things fall out between the cup and the lip. But all my expectations are blown away, and I have but one poor fortnight given me to recollect my scattered thoughts, when they are all to be centered in Mr Arnold. I am not merry, my Cecilia, but I am determined not to appear sad; neither am I so; I hope I have no reason.
My mother purposes writing again to Sir George, to desire his presence at my marriage. I hope he will behave respectfully to every one here, if he should come.
Mr Arnold has writ to town, to bespeak a new chariot; he will do nothing in regard to the house, till I am on the spot to please myself. I intend sending Patty to town, to bring me down my bridal trappings.
Mr Arnold has given some necessary orders for the new decking of his person, as well as some of the apartments in the old mansion-house, which seem a little to want refurnishing; most of the goods having been inhabitants there since the time of his great grandfather.
My mother’s last letter to Sir George has produced the following answer, which he sent by Patty, when she returned down here with my cloaths.
Madam,I am sorry I cannot accept of the invitation you favour me with, to be present at my sister’s nuptials. Some affairs in Wiltshire require my immediate attendance; and I had settled matters before I received your summons, so as to set out as on this day. I wish you all imaginable satisfaction in your new son-in-law; and my sister abundance of happiness in her spouse.I am, Madam, &c.
Madam,
I am sorry I cannot accept of the invitation you favour me with, to be present at my sister’s nuptials. Some affairs in Wiltshire require my immediate attendance; and I had settled matters before I received your summons, so as to set out as on this day. I wish you all imaginable satisfaction in your new son-in-law; and my sister abundance of happiness in her spouse.
I am, Madam, &c.
I am glad Sir George does not come down; I am sure if he did, his behaviour would be such, as would render him no very acceptable guest at Grimston-hall.
A week, but a short week, to come, before my fate is irrevocably fixed; or revocable only by the hand of death! This reflection, solemn as it is, does not alarm me; because, after again calling my heart to the strictest account, I think Icanpronounce it intirely free. Mr Arnold will soon have an indisputable right to it; and it is my firm purpose to use my utmost endeavours to give him intire possession of it. He every day gains upon my esteem. If his talents are not so glittering as I have seen some others possessed of, he is nevertheless master of an exceedingly good understanding, which a sort of diffidence in his manner does not suffer him to shew at once to the best advantage. His temper is extremely sweet, and he seems to have an openness of heart (when he throws off a little shyness which he has contracted) that is exceedingly engaging. His love for me appears as fervent as I believe it sincere; and I should be ungrateful not to do my utmost to return it.
How precipitate has been my fortune? Twice within these three months have I been almost at the eve of my intended nuptials. Those whichwereto have been, I thought as certain as those which arenowto be solemnized within two days. Who knows what may still happen to frustrate our present designs?—No—there is not another Miss B. to interpose. Mr Arnold seems to be one of those who are born to pass quietly through life. He has already attained to the age of thirty, without one event ever happening to him, but such as happen to every man every day. May no future storm ever interrupt his or my tranquility! for they will soon be one and the same thing.
The die is thrown, my Cecilia, and thy Sidney is the wife of Mr Arnold! This day we were married; the good Dean joined our hands, and his daughter was one of my bride-maids. The poor girl was taken ill during the ceremony, and was obliged to leave the church, which has confirmed me in my suspicions—Oh! how I pity her! I believe indeed she only feigned illness for an excuse to retire. Mrs Vere wentout with her, but she would not suffer her to attend her home. She promised to dine with us, if she should be better; and so she did, and seemed chearful and pretty well; but I thought she looked as if she had been crying. She made my heart ache—but I am in hopes it is but a slight wound; she is exceedingly lively, and, I dare say, will soon get the better of it.
Lady Grimston was downright tiresome with her compliments; and preached an hour long about the duty of children to their parents; and how good a wife that woman was likely to make, who had always been exemplary in her filial obedience. Ah! lady Grimston, thought I, by what I have heard of you, you did not seem to number obedience amongst wife-like virtues in your own case, though you can preach it up to others. But I knew this sermon was chiefly intended for poor Mrs Vere’s use. My mother was all kindness and complacency. She seemed so delighted, that I rejoiced in having had it in my power to give her so much happiness. Lady Grimston did the honours of her house on this occasion with great magnificence, and I believe I need not tell you, with most exquisite decorum. Indeed this wedding was conducted with such a decent festivity, so rationally on all sides, and such a comfortable privacy, that I was not half so much shocked as I expected to have been.
We have no company here besides the family of the house, my dear good old Dean, his lady and daughter, one young lady more, and a relation of Mr Arnold’s; a gentleman who came from London on purpose to be present on this (as it is called) joyful occasion.
We shall leave this house to-morrow, Mr Arnold and I, I mean. I am to be put into possession of the old mansion of Arnold-abbey. My mother is to continue with lady Grimston a week or a fortnight longer, and then she goes to London on no other call, as she says, but to see and administer comfort to poor Miss B. who she supposes will be by that time come to her retreat.
I believe I shall remain in the country while the weather continues pleasant, but am not yet determined.
We took leave of lady Grimston this morning, or rather of her house; for her ladyship, my dear mother, and all the good folks that were our guests at Grimston-hall, are to dine with us to-day at Arnold-abbey. I desired I might be permitted to go home without any parade, and in as private a manner as possible; for you know how I hate a bustle. MrArnold very obligingly indulged me in this request, and conducted my sweet Mrs Vere and me home in his coach, at eight of the clock this morning. I found every thing in exact order at Arnold-abbey. The house is very spacious and convenient, though very old-fashioned. Some of the rooms, however, are newly fitted up, perfectly neat and handsome. The servants are orderly and well-behaved, and every thing seems to be exactly well regulated. You may be sure I have taken my own Patty home with me; I intend to constitute her housekeeper, and give her an additional salary for her additional trouble. Mr Arnold had nobody in that capacity before, as his household had not been settled since the acquisition of his fortune, and he reserved the chusing of so material a domestic to me; but as I do not love to multiply servants, and know that Patty is very capable of the place, I shall take no other.
Visitors still in abundance: all the gentry in the neighbourhood for some miles about have been to pay us their compliments; at least, I hope by this time they haveallbeen here, for we have not had a minute to ourselves these three days. It will take me up ten to return them, as many of the families live at a good distance from hence.
Mr Arnold, whose mourning has been laid aside since our wedding day, seems to have a very good taste in dress; he is perfectly well shaped, and appears to great advantage in colours; in short, he is more amiable than I thought he was. It is with great pleasure that I observe my young acquaintance, on whose heart I feared Mr Arnold had made an impression, has recovered her usual vivacity. With people extremely full of spirits, love is not apt to sink very deep, or last long, when it does not meet with a return.
My mother sets out for London to-morrow, and Mr Arnold has proposed to me, that he and I should accompany her. He says, he wants to look out for a house, and should like to fix in one before the weather advances; and that we may take up our abode at my mother’s till our house is ready for us. My mother is charmed at this proposal: she dreads the thought of parting with me; and as she intends going (after a convenient stay in London) down to Sidney-castle, if I remain here, our separation must be immediate. I know this is Mr Arnold’s kind reason for desiring me to go; he thinks I shall be less affected atparting with my mother, when in the midst of the various scenes which London affords, than I should be if I were to continue here. He does not give this for a reason, but I know it is his true one; for he is not fond of London himself, especially at a season of the year, when the country is so much more agreeable. I thanked him for this mark of his tenderness, and am determined to go.
Once more returned to London in very good spirits, after a stay of little more than two months in Essex, in which time so material and unexpected a change has been made in my condition.
Lady Grimston took a most affectionate leave of my mother and asked her, with more tenderness than I thought her capable of, How many ages would it be before they should meet again? As for Mr Arnold and me, she considers us her neighbours. The Dean pleases himself with that expectation too; and the dear Mrs Vere, who shed tears at bidding me adieu, promises herself the happiness (as she kindly expressed herself) of spending many delightful days with me next summer. She set out on her return to her own house, at the same time that we left ours to go to town.
My brother is still in Wiltshire; but I find he did not leave town at the time he mentioned in his letter to my mother, nor for some days after. This Patty learnt from the servants; but I hope it will not come to my mother’s ears, for she would take it extremely ill of him.
Mr Arnold, for the first time, mentioned, that he was very much disappointed in not having had the honour of seeing Sir George at his house in the country; but he hoped, when he came to town, his brother and he should make up for this, by being the more together. I wish Sir George may behave as he ought to this deserving brother. Mr Arnold little imagines how much he was an enemy to this match, and much less his reason for it. I should be very sorry Mr Arnold were to know how near I was being married to another man; it might give a delicate mind pain, lest there should remain any traces of this former attachment in the breast of the woman he loves; but I hope there is no danger of his hearing of it, certainly no one would be so indiscreet as to mention it to him. Mr Arnold has lived chiefly in the country, and may never have heard of Mr Faulkland, as he was so short a time returned from his travels, on which he had been absent more than five years; and as he is now out of the kingdom, probably he will not be spoken of. I have begged of my mother, who is naturallycommunicative, never to name Mr Faulkland to Mr Arnold, and have given my reasons for desiring this. She says, she thinks it would be better to tell him the whole affair at once; but I cannot agree with her in that opinion; and have at last prevailed on her to promise me she will not speak of it.
My mother drove out in my new chariot to-day (a very gay fine one it is), and went to Putney, to enquire after Miss B. by the name of Mrs Jefferis. She soon found the house, a very neat box, with a pretty garden behind it. The door was opened by a servant maid; and my mother being told the lady was at home, sent in her name; and was immediately conducted up stairs into a very elegant little dressing-room, where the lady was sitting at her toilet; and Mr Faulkland’s housekeeper (whom my mother had seen before) assisting to dress her head. On my mother’s entering the room, Miss B. rose off her chair, and soon discovered by her shape (for she was without her stays), that it was high time for her to seek a place of concealment. The housekeeper immediately withdrew; and the young lady seemed in the utmost confusion; my mother says, she herself was at a loss how to begin the conversation, but Miss B. relieved her, and spoke first. She thanked her for the honour she did her by so charitable a visit, which, she said, Mr Faulkland had long ago made her hope for; and which she must consider as the greatest consolation in her present unhappy circumstances.
My mother placed herself by her. Madam, said she, Mr Faulkland made it a point with me before he left England, that I should see you, and afford you all the assistance in my power, or that you should stand in need of. You seem to be commodiously situated here, and I understand have a very careful good woman to attend you.
I have so, madam, she answered; but the most material circumstance is wanting to my relief: Mr Faulkland!—He is not here. Tears started into her eyes as she spoke. You were apprised of his absence, said my mother, before you came to town. I was, madam, and with the cause of it; she hung down her head and was silent.
My mother reassumed the conversation. She told her, she thought it a most providential discovery, that had given her the knowlege of Mr Faulkland’s ill behaviour, time enough to prevent his marriage with her daughter; assuring her, she would not, for the universe, have had me the wife of a man under such ties, as she must consider MrFaulkland to be. Miss B. brightned up a little upon my mother’s saying this. Did Mr Faulkland ever tell you, madam, how the unhappy affair happened? My mother told her, she knew not particulars; that she had been referred to her for a full explanation; that Mr Faulkland had always endeavoured to excuse himself; and went so far as to say, He was sure the lady herself would acquit him in a great measure. Ah! madam! Miss B. cried, and shook her head. ’Tis as I suspected, said my mother, Mr Faulkland is an ungenerous man. A young lady of your modest appearance, I am sure he must have taken more pains to seduce, than he will acknowlege. Miss B blushed exceedingly—Oh! madam, you have a charitable, generous heart, I wasindeedseduced. I knew it, replied my mother. Did he promise to marry you? She coloured deeper than before. I will not accuse him of that, madam. My mother proceeded; You have a relation, madam; I understand she was accessary to your misfortune. Yes, the barbarous woman, answered the lady, she was the contriver of my destruction; and if I could have avoided it, I would never have seen her face again. Tears of grief and indignation again burst from her eyes. Have comfort, madam, said my mother, all may end well yet. I can have no hopes, answered Miss B. Mr Faulkland flies me, you see, nor can I ever expect to recover his heart, since so charming a young lady, as I hear Miss Bidulph is, has possession of it; and though your goodness disappointed him in his late views, he may not yet despair. I found by this, continued my mother, that Miss B knew nothing of your being married, and made haste to tell her. I never saw joy so visible in a countenance. She clasped her hands together; Dear madam! what do you tell me? How you revive my drooping heart! then I am notquitehopeless, there is apossibilityin my favour.
She then asked my mother if Mr Faulkland had acquainted her with her real name, or that of her relation. My mother, who had once or twice called her by the name of Jefferis, assured her he had not. That was generous in him, said she; hecanbe generous insomepoints. But I have no reason to conceal it from so prudent and worthy a lady as you are; my real name is Burchell; that of my cruel relation I will forbear to mention, out of respect to my good uncle, whose wife she is. Mr Faulkland, she added, left a Bill of five hundred pounds with his housekeeper, to provide every thing for me that I should want; with assurances that he would take the tenderest care of—the poor young creature hesitated, and could proceed no farther; but my mother said she understood her meaning. They had a good dealmore discourse: my mother promised to see her often during her confinement, and took her leave.
She tells me, she is extremely pretty, and has such an air of innocence and simplicity, as very much engages one in her favour.
I have set down this whole conversation, with every other particular, exactly as my mother related it.
She, who has a most circumstantial memory, repeated it word for word; and I, from a custom of throwing upon paper every thing that occurs to me, have habituated myself to retain the minutest things.
I know not, my dear, whether you will be of my opinion; but I cannot help thinking, that there was something like art in Miss Burchell’s behaviour, far from that candour which Mr Faulkland seemed to expect from her. My mother mentioned thepainsthat she supposed had been taken toseduceher; her deep blush at this hint, makes me suspect that her answer was not dictated by sincerity. She saw my mother was not acquainted with the particulars, and that she was willing to pass a favourable judgment on her fault; it looks to me as if she laid hold of this prejudice—and yet sheownedthat Mr Faulkland had never promised to marry her—I know not what to think; but there appears to me, upon the whole, something evasive and disingenuous in her conduct. My mother, who is all openness and integrity, saw it not in this light. But be it as it may, it is no longer of any consequence to me, which was most to blame, the gentleman or the lady: Miss Burchell is certainly the injured Person; perhaps I too may have wronged her in my surmises; if I have, I beg her pardon; the observations I have made on her behaviour are onlyen passant, and I do from my heart wish Mr Faulkland would make her his wife. You may perceive, from what I have told you, how little this interview was likely to produce in Mr Faulkland’s favour, had it even been brought about sooner. My mother is now more than ever confirmed in her opinion, that the poor young creature has been deceived; and she prays, that Mr Faulkland may not be overtaken with a judgment, which she thinks nothing but his marrying the girl can avert.
We have at length fixed upon a house to our liking, a handsome convenient one in St James’s-street. We are preparing to get it furnished as fast as we can, that we may go into it; for if my brother should come to town, I knowourbeing with my mother will be an objectionto his lodging in her house: this I should be sorry for, as she told him he might make use of it while it remained in her hands.
Thank my stars! I have got over the fatigue of receiving and paying a second round of bridal visits, and I am really so tired of it, that, uninviting as the season is, I could wish myself in quiet at Arnold-abbey; but I cannot think of leaving London while my mother continues in it, and she is now resolved to do so till Miss Burchell, or rather, on this occasion, Mrs Jefferis, is brought to-bed. You can’t imagine how sollicitous she is about her; every time she sees her she seems more and more pleased with her. I am very glad it has happened so, for the poor young woman’s sake; my mother is as warm in her attachments as in her resentments. She visits her almost every second day; for the poor thing it seems is ill at present, and can’t leave her chamber. She tells me she is extremely melancholy, and seems much to dread the approaching hour. I greatly honour my mother for her humanity towards her: in her terrifying situation she must want the tenderness of a well-bred as well as a sensible friend; for it must be a melancholy thing, in such circumstances, to have no one about her but servants, and those strangers too.
She told my mother, that her altered looks, and frequent sicknesses, gave her aunt (who was privy to the cause of it) a pretence for asking her uncle’s permission for Miss to go to Bath, which she told him would do her more good than any thing. He consented, and supposed she was actually gone thither under the care of a lady, whom her aunt named, who was really going there in order to settle for life, and to whose house she went for a day or two to give a colour to this story. Her aunt contrived that she should not take any servant with her; giving it for a reason, that as she might be as well attended by the lady’s servants with whom she lodged, and be considered by her as one of the family, a maid would only be an unnecessary incumbrance. She added, that her uncle was so afflicted with the gout, that he never stirred abroad, and saw very little company, so that it was not likely he should ever be undeceived.
We have just received a very odd piece of news, that I own has a little alarmed me. It is, that the widow of Mr Arnold’s brother is found to be with child. There was no mention of this at the time her husbanddied, nor indeed any cause to suspect it; but the strongest presumptions in the world to the contrary, as her husband and she lived a-part. It has not been even whispered, till since our arrival in town. The lady pretends that she was not conscious of it herself till within this fortnight; yet her husband has been dead four months. This I am told is very possible, though not very common. She has herself wrote a letter to Mr Arnold, to inform him of it; at the same time declaring, that she and her late husband had been reconciled a little before his death; and that, had he recovered, she was to have lived with him again. All this is very strange. The elder Mr Arnold killed himself with excessive drinking. His death approached him by slow degrees; but as he could never be persuaded to think it near, he took not the least care either of his spiritual or temporal concerns. His brother was in the country when he was seized with his last illness, which he had precipitated by some extravagant excess. He was almost at the last extremity before he could be prevailed on to let a physician attend him, or suffer his brother to be sent for. In regard to the latter, he told those about him, that as he was his heir, of course he had made no will. He mentioned not his wife. The jointure which had been settled on her, he allowed her for a separate maintenance. They had for a long time pursued separate pleasures, and none of his friends knew that they had ever met, or so much as seen one another from the time they parted. My Mr Arnold arrived in town just time enough to close his brother’s eyes; he was speechless when he came, and expired in less than an hour after he entered his chamber.
As his wife had been very obnoxious to the family, there was little notice taken of her by them, more than what common forms require. She seemed as indifferent about the death of herhusband, as she had been towards him in his life-time; and did not then hint a word of this reconciliation between them, or of her having had an interview with him. I am told, she is a very weak, as well as a very loose woman; and Mr Arnold thinks she has got into the hands of some designing person. However that matter may be, it is a serious affair; and he designs to take the opinion of an eminent lawyer upon it. My poor dear mother is frightned sadly. If this child should make its appearance in the world time enough to prove the possibility of its being the offspring of the late Mr Arnold, she says, it must be considered by the law as his heir, notwithstanding the husband and wife lived apart. Mr Arnold laughs, or affects to laugh at this; weshall, however, wait with patience till the lady is brought to bed.
Our house is intirely fitted up, and we shall remove into it this evening; my mother chuses to continue in her own, though Mr Arnold presses her to accept of an apartment in ours; but we shall be near neighbours, and she does not like to change.
We have received the opinion of our lawyers, who tell us, that in case the child should be born within such a period of time, as to give colour to its claim, yet the lady must prove her assertion, in regard to the pretended meeting between her and her husband; which it is imagined is not in her power to do; and her indifferent character, together with several favourable circumstances which Mr Arnold has on his side, makes them quite sanguin in their expectations of overturning her claim. We are, however, likely to be engaged in a disagreeable law-suit; but as Mr Arnold seems perfectly easy about the issue of it, I will make myself so too.
I am more and more reconciled to my lot, my dear Cecilia, every day that I live. Mr Arnold’s assiduity and tenderness towards me deserve the gratefullest return my heart can make him; and I am convinced it is not necessary to be passionately in love with the man we marry, to make us happy. Constancy, good sense, and a sweet temper, must form a basis for a durable felicity. The two latter I am sure Mr Arnold possesses; Oh! may I never experience his want of the former! I hope my own conduct will for ever ensure to me his love. That only can secure the tranquility of my future days.
My brother arrived in town last night; and came this morning in company with my mother (and I am sure at her request) to make us a formal visit. My kind Mr Arnold received him with tenderness; Sir George was coldly polite. He owned, however, to my mother, upon her asking him his opinion of his brother-in-law, that he seemed to be agood clever sort of a fellow. I wish I could cultivate a friendship between them; it will not be Mr Arnold’s fault if there is not; but Sir George, you know, is not of a very pliant disposition.
He asked my mother, when they were alone, Whether she had yet seen Miss B or Mrs Jefferis (for he knew her by no other name) andwhat she had to say for herself? My mother told him, he had better not touch upon that string. I will be hanged, replied Sir George, if the artful young baggage has not imposed upon you. My mother, who is always angry at having her sagacity called in question, told Sir George he was rude, and she should give him no satisfaction on that head. My brother answered, as it wasnowof no consequence, what the wench affirmed or denied, he had no farther curiosity about her. My mother called him a bear, and so the enquiry ended.
I congratulate you, my sister, my friend, my ever beloved Cecilia. Happy! happy may you be in your nuptials! but in the midst of my joy for your being so nobly and worthily bestowed, self-love forces a sigh from me. I have lost the pleasing hope of seeing you, at the time fixed for your return. The station your husband holds at the court of Vienna, will, I fear, long detain my beloved in a foreign land. But you are not amongst strangers; a husband, a brother, and tender parent, must make every part of the globe equally your home. I will therefore seek for my contentment in your’s, and rest satisfied with believing that you will always continue to love me.
I begin to find my thoughts so dissipated, that I am angry with myself; Mr Arnold’s excessive indulgence will spoil me; he is always contriving new scenes of pleasure, and hurries me from one to the other. I do not wish to be perpetually fluttering about. The calm domestic life you know was always my choice; but I will not oppose my kind Mr Arnold in his fond desire of pleasing me: besides, I find that by his constantly gallanting me to public places, he begins himself to acquire a sort of relish for them, which he did not use to have; at least his prudence made him so to conform to the necessity of his circumstances, while his fortune was small, that he never indulged himself in any of the fashionable expensive amusements; nor does he now in any, but such as I partake of with him. I find he is by nature open and liberal to excess. I must take care, without his being conscious of it, to be a gentle check upon his bounteous spirit; I mean only so far as it regards myself: indeed this is the most material point, for in every other instance his generosity is regulated by prudence. I am every hour more obliged to him, and should hate myself if I did not find that he had an intire possession of my love.
Sir George hardly ever comes near us but by formal invitation, and then his behaviour to Mr Arnold is so very civil, and so very distant, that it mortifies me exceedingly. Mr Arnold cannot but perceive it; but either his tenderness for me makes him take no notice of it, or else, not being well enough acquainted with my brother to know his disposition, he may impute his coldness to his natural temper.
My mother says, he never names Mr Faulkland or Miss Burchell to her. I wish Sir George could entirely forget that unhappy affair.
There is a story propagated by the widow Arnold, about the meeting between her and her husband; the circumstances of which are as follows: She says, she had dined one day in the city, and was returning home to her lodgings in York-buildings in a hackney coach; that the driver, by his carelessness in coming along the Strand, had one of his fore wheels taken off by a Waggon, which accident obliged her to alight: the footboy, who was behind the coach, had by the jolt been thrown off, and received a hurt, which made it necessary to have him carried into a shop for assistance. That the lady herself, being no otherwise injured than by a little fright, found that she was so near home, that she did not think it worth while to wait for another carriage, but pursued her way on foot. It was a fine dry evening, about nine o’clock; and though there was no light but what the lamps afforded, yet as the streets were full of people, she had no apprehensions of danger.
In this situation she was accosted by two gentlemen, who, seeing a lady well dressed and alone, insisted on seeing her safe to her lodgings. However disagreeable such an encounter was, she said she did not give herself much concern about it, as she was so near home, and expected to shake off her new acquaintance at the door of the house where she lodged; and accordingly, when she got there, she told them she was at home, and wished them a good night; but the impertinents were not so easily to be put off. The door having been opened by the maid of the house, they both rushed in; her landlady, a single woman, happened to be abroad and there was no man in the house.
Mrs Arnold thought she had no way left, but to run up to her dining-room, and lock herself in; but in this she was prevented, as the gentlemen, whom the servant of the house vainly endeavoured to oppose, got up stairs almost as soon as she did. Her own maid, onhearing the rap at the door, had lighted candles in the dining-room; the two sparks entered with her; but how was she surprized to find that one of them was her husband. Her fright, she said, had prevented her from discovering this sooner, as she had not looked in either of their faces, though there was a light in the hall; and Mr Arnold’s being half drunk, she supposed, was the reason of his not perceiving sooner who she was.
The astonishment that they both were in, and the exclamation that each made in their turn, soon informed the companion of Mr Arnold who the lady was. He congratulated them both on this fortunate mistake, and saying, since chance had been so propitious to Mr Arnold as to throw him into the arms of so charming a woman, he hoped his discovering her to be his wife would not render her the less agreeable to him; but that this unexpected meeting might be a means of re-uniting them in their former amity.
Mr Arnold, she says, in the presence of this gentleman, advanced with open arms to embrace her, which she not declining, his friend having again felicitated them on their reconciliation, took his leave, and Mr Arnold remained with his lady.
That at parting, which was not till late, (as she would not, on account of her reputation, permit him to pass the night at her lodgings) he promised to bring her home to his house in a day or two; but unfortunately for her he was taken ill in the interim, which she did not know of, till she had an account that Mr Arnold had lost his senses. The reason she assigned for not enquiring after him sooner was, that her pride would not suffer her to make any advances to a man, who had been so injurious as to part with her; and she thought it his duty to recall her, without her taking any step towards it.
This story seems plausible; yet none of our friends believe a word of it, and imagine somebody has contrived it for her. The gentleman, who was the companion of Mr Arnold that night, she says, can at a proper time be produced as a witness, as also her own maid, who can testify the truth of this story. In the mean time this maid is kept out of the way, and nobody can guess at the gentleman, for his name is kept a profound secret.
I am delighted at the sweetness of Mr Arnold’s temper: vexatious as this affair is likely to be, even at the best, he does not suffer it to interrupt our pleasures or his own good humour. On the contrary, he is the more studious of promoting every thing, which he thinks will entertain me.
At length the poor Miss Burchell is happily rid of her burden; a pretty little boy, my mother says it is: it was, immediately after its birth, at which my mother was present, privately baptized by the name of Orlando, and sent away with its nurse, a careful body, who had been before provided for it. It passes for the son of a captain Jefferis, abroad with the army. Miss Burchell would never suffer the nurse to see her; for as she intends to reassume her own name, as soon as she shall be in a condition to leave her present retirement, she would not chuse to be known by the woman, in case of her going to see her child. Every thing was managed with so much privacy, and Miss Burchell has lived so perfectly recluse, nobody visiting her but my mother, that in all probability this affair will always remain an intire secret.
My mother says, that as soon as Miss Burchell (to whom she considers herself as a kind of patroness) is tolerably recovered, she will go down to Sidney-castle; for she thinks herself in a strange land any where but there. And would you believe it my dear, she has taken such a fancy to Miss Burchell, that she talks of inviting her down with her, if she can obtain her uncle’s leave. The girl must certainly have some very amiable qualities, so to captivate my mother, or she has an immensity of art. I dare say the young lady will gladly accept of her invitation; it will undoubtedly be a most eligible situation for her. I do not know what Sir George may say to her carrying her humanity so far, as he hates the name of this poor girl; but no matter, it may be a means of preserving her character, which probably she might not long keep, if she returned to live with so vile a woman as I conclude her aunt to be; nor can she have any colour for quitting her, whilst her uncle lives; for I find she is an orphan, and has no relation but him. She must however go home for a while, in order to get leave from him for this visit to Sidney-castle.
I am told the widow Arnold computes the time of her lying-in about the latter end of the next month; if it should so happen, she saves her distance, as her husband died in July, a little before we went to Grimston-hall. Mr Arnold treats the affair very lightly, and is only concerned at seeing my mother so much affected by it. For my part, I form my behaviour upon Mr Arnold’s conduct, and as long as heappears easy, I shall certainly be so too.
My brother throws out some unkind reflections: he says, he wonders the old Sybil at Grimston-hall did not foresee this; and congratulates me on my good fortune, in having my jointure settled on that part of the estate which is not disputed. I really think he shews a sort of ill-natured triumph even in his condolements; for he generally concludes them with thanking his stars thathehad no hand in the match. I trust in God we shall none of us have any cause to repent it. I am sure I never shall; for if Mr Arnold were reduced to the lowest ebb of fortune, I should find my consolation in his kindness and affection.
My mother is preparing to leave town. Miss Burchell is quite recovered, and purposes going down to the country, to obtain her uncle’s consent for the intended visit. She says, she can easily tell him she made an acquaintance with lady Bidulph in her late excursion to Bath, from whom she received an invitation, and she is sure he will not refuse to let her accept it.
Sir George laughs exceedingly at this plan. He says his mother ought not to be surprized at Faulkland’s falling into the girl’s snares, since she herself has done the same; but he supposes my mother thinks she is doing a very meritorious action, in affording an asylum to this injured innocence. I give you my brother’s words, for I assure you, as to myself, I approve of my mother’s kindness to her, and think it may be a means of preserving the girl from future mischief.
Miss Burchell is gone to the country, and this morning, for the first time, severed me from the best of mothers. I cannot recover my spirits; I have wept all day. Mr Arnold, ever good and obliging, would needs accompany her some miles on her journey; you may be sure I was not left behind. Sir George was so polite as to say, He would escort her down to Sidney-castle. I was surprized at it; for he does not often do obliging things. My mother gladly accepted of his company, and said, she would make him her prisoner, when she had him there; for she should be quite melancholy without me for a time. Now though I should be very unwilling not to allow the merit of a good-natured action to Sir George, yet do I attribute this in some measure to its answering a purpose of convenience to himself. Youknow, before his illness sent him to the Spa, he always spent his summers with us at the Castle, though he has another very convenient house on his estate. When he was in London, he never had any thing but lodgings, for which I have often been angry with him. My mother, since his return, made him a compliment of her house; but as the time she took it for is now expired, and it is let to another family, he could no longer continue in it. Mr Arnold, in the most affectionate manner, pressed him to accept of an apartment with us, which he declined. Now as he could not, without shewing us an apparent slight, continue in town in other lodgings, I believe he, for this reason, preferred going down with my mother. Be it as it may, I am very glad that she will have his company; for I make no doubt of his staying with her some time, unless Miss Burchell should frighten him away.
I have been so cast down since my mother’s departure, that Mr Arnold’s obliging tender assiduity to please and entertain me seems redoubled; but indeed I am wearied with a continual round of noisy pleasures, and long to get back to Arnold-abbey. I hope to be there in about three weeks, or a month at farthest. My mother has dispensed with our going down to her this summer. She thinks it might be attended with inconveniences to me, and talks of coming to town again in a few months; but I shall insist on her not giving herself the fatigue of so long a journey, unless she comes to stay all the next winter with us.
My mother writes me word that Miss Burchell has obtained leave of her uncle, and is come to Sidney-castle: she says, she never saw a better behaved young creature. Sir George has taken so much offence at her coming, that he talks of going to his own house. My mother adds, ‘He behaves however, with manners, but I shall not press him to stay.’
An important birth, my Cecilia! the widow Arnold has produced a young miss. I assure you the little damsel has been ushered into life with all the ceremony due to a young heiress; and her mother introduces her as one, whom an unjust uncle debars of her right.Now you must know, that upon an exact calculation, this little girl has made her appearance just twelve days later than she ought to have done, to prove her legitimacy, dating the possibility of her being Mr Arnold’s, from the very day whereon he took that illness of which he died, and which confined him for five days to his bed. In all that time, his servants never left him for a minute; this has occasioned various speculations; our lawyers say that it is enough to destroy her pretensions; but some physicians, who have been consulted on the occasion, are of a contrary opinion; and declare they have known instances of children being born, even so long after the stated time alloted by nature for their coming into life.
It is a very unlucky affair, and has involved us in a law-suit. Who the person is that secretly abets the widow, we cannot find out; but it is certain she has somebody; every one believes this is an infamous and unjust claim; and the woman’s folly almost frees her from the suspicion of its being of her own contriving.
You cannot imagine, my Cecilia, how happy I think myself, after such a hurrying winter as I have had, to find myself once more restored to my favourite pleasures, the calm delights of solitude. Arnold-abbey seems a paradise to me now.
Lady Grimston shewed me a specimen of her humour this morning, in talking of the widow Arnold. She said she was anharlot, that having already disgraced the family, now wanted to beggar them; but that if Mr Arnold did not make an example of her, she would never own him for a kinsman.
My chearful old Dean says, he is now completely happy, having lived to see his daughter married (while we were in town) very much to his and her satisfaction. I am heartily glad of it, neither am I sorry (for her sake) that she has left the country.
Mrs Vere is come to spend a few weeks with me according to her promise. She is a truly amiable creature; her disposition so gentle, her temper so mild, such a sweet humility in her whole deportment, that it astonishes me her mother can still persist in her unkindness to her. But the eldest daughter was always her darling, who I understand is pretty much of her mother’s own cast; and makes a very termagant wife to a very turbulent husband. So that notwithstandingtheir title (for he is a Baronet) and immense riches, they are a very miserable pair.
They were lately to pay lady Grimston a visit; but there happened such a frecas, that probably it may be the last she will ever receive from them. The husband, it seems, though very rough and surly in his nature, is, notwithstanding, a well-meaning man, and not void of humanity; which had induced him to give a small portion to a young girl, a distant relation of his own, who had been left an orphan. She was beloved by the son of a substantial farmer, a tenant of the baronet’s, and had an equal affection for him; but the young man, depending entirely on his father for his future prospects, durst not take a wife without something to begin the world with; for his father had just put him into the management of one of his farms. The young lady and her mother (who was a widow, and is but lately dead) had boarded for some years at this honest farmer’s house, and in that time a mutual love had been contracted between the young people. The old man himself liked the girl so well for a daughter-in-law, that his only objection was her want of fortune; but this was such an obstacle as was not to be surmounted by a man, who, being accustomed to earn money by indefatigable industry, put the utmost value upon it. His regard to his son’s happiness, however, made him resolve to try an experiment in his favour, and accordingly he plucked up courage, and went to his landlord. He told him, in his own blunt way, that he came to speak to him in behalf of a poor young gentlewoman that was his (Sir William’s) relation. I have a son that loves her, said he, and she loves him, but I cannot afford to let the boy marry a wife that has nothing; and you know she has no portion. I would not desire much with her, for she is a good girl, and very housewifely; but if you will be so kind to give her something to set them a going a little, I shall be content; if not, you will be the cause of my son’s losing a wife, for he swears he will never marry any other woman, and she, poor thing, may pine away for love. I do not desire this match out of the ambition of having my boy related to you, but because I think the girl is an honest girl, and may make him happy.
The rough honesty of the farmer pleased his landlord so well, that he gave the young woman five hundred pounds, to set them a going, as the old yeoman termed it. Though this sum was but a trifle to a man of his fortune, and the giving it was a praise-worthy action, yet did it exceedingly displease his lady, especially as he had not thought proper to consult her on the occasion. She was not contentedwith venting her indignation on her husband at home, but she renewed the quarrel, by complaining to lady Grimston, that her opinion and advice were not only despised, but that Sir William was lavishing away the fortuneshehad brought him upon atribeof poor relations of his own. Lady Grimston immediately took fire; she could not bear the thoughts of having her daughter’s authority of less weight in his family, than her own had been, and she attacked her son-in-law with acrimony on the subject. His answer to her was short. Look ye, lady Grimston, you made a very obstreperous wife to a very peacable husband; your daughter, I find, is mightily disposed to follow your example; but as I am not quite so tame as my father-in-law was, I will suffer her to see as little of it as may be. With this he turned from her, and ordering his coach and six to be got ready immediately, with very little ceremony he forced his wife into it, and carried her home directly, leaving lady Grimston foaming with rage. The altercation had been carried on with so little caution, that the servants heard it, and the story is the jest of the neighbourhood.
I confess I am not sorry for this breach; it may be the better for poor Mrs Vere; for though her mother’s jointure reverts to a male relation, on whom the estate was settled, yet as lady Grimston has a large personal fortune, it is in her power to make her daughter full amends for the injury she did her.
Mr Arnold is improving his gardens, and taking in a great deal more ground to enlarge them. I do not express the least dissatisfaction at this, tho’ I own I could wish he would not engage in new expences on an estate which is now in litigation; but our lawyers are so sanguin, that they encourage him to proceed.
[The following is writ in the hand of the lady, who gave the editor these papers: ‘Here follows an interval of four months; in which time, though the Journal was regularly continued, nothing material to her story occured, but the birth of a daughter, after which she proceeds.’]
How delightful are the new sensations, my dear Cecilia, that I feel hourly springing in my heart! Surely the tenderness of a mother can never be sufficiently repaid; and I now more than ever rejoice in having, by an obedience, which perhaps I once thought had somelittle merit in it, contributed so much to the repose of a parent, to whom I have such numberless obligations. I never see my little girl, but I think such were the tender sentiments, the sweet anxieties, that my honoured and beloved mother felt when her Sidney was such a brat as this. Then I say, surely I have a right to all the duty, all the filial love that this creature can shew me, in return for my fondness. As for Mr Arnold, he idolizes it; you never saw so good a nurse as he makes. Lady Grimston declares, we are both in a fair way of ruining the child, and advises us to send it out of the house, that we may not grow too fond of it; but we shall hardly take her counsel.
I informed you before that Miss Burchell had been summoned home by her uncle, who was then very ill. She has lately written an account to my mother of his death; and that as she has now her fortune in her own hands, she intends immediately to quit her aunt, and look out for some genteel and reputable family in London (where it seems she chuses to reside) to lodge with.
My mother, in her letter to me, expresses great satisfaction at her resolution to leave her aunt, but is not without her fears, that so pretty a young woman, left to her own guidance, may be liable to danger; though she thinks both her natural disposition, and her good sense, sufficient to guard her against actual evil.
Our lawyer writes us a word, that he has had an offer of a composition, proposed by the widow Arnold’s people: he says, though the sum they mention is a very round one, yet it plainly indicates the weakness of their hopes; and concludes with telling Mr Arnold, that if six-pence would buy them off, he should not, with his consent, give it to them; as it would tacitly admit the legality of their claim, and might be productive of troublesome consequences hereafter; and therefore he would by all means have the issue fairly tried. Mr Arnold laughs heartily at the proposal, but says he is very much obliged to the lady for condescending to give up more than half, when her daughter has a right to the whole; without whose consent he supposes it is not in the mother’s power to make terms.
I wish we were rid of this troublesome affair, as it must hurry us to town sooner than we intended, and the country is still delightful.
Again we have quitted our sweet retirement for the noise and bustleof London; but this law-business, it seems, must be closely pursued, though our antagonist’s motions seem a little dilatory. We cannot find out the secret spring that sets the machine a-going; the wheels however do not seem to move with such alacrity as they did; though the widow still talks big, and says, we shall repent of having rejected her offer.
My brother is arrived in town, but took care to settle himself in handsome commodious lodgings before he paid us a visit, for fear, I suppose, that we should again press him to accept of apartments in our house. I see he is determined to keep up nothing more than an intercourse barely civil. Mr Arnold cannot but be disgusted with his behaviour, but he is too delicate to take notice of it to me.
I am disappointed in my hopes of seeing my dear mother in town this winter. Her apartment was ready for her, and I delighted myself with the thoughts of seeing her in possession of it, at least for a few months; but she writes me word that her old rheumatick complaint is returned on her with such violence, that she cannot think of undertaking the journey. Sadly am I grieved at this news, and shall long to have the winter over, that Mr Arnold and I may fly to Sidney-castle; he has promised me this satisfaction early in the summer.
My mother informs me that Miss Burchell constantly corresponds with her: she tells her that her aunt is come to town to sollicit for her pension, but that she never sees her; and as she means to drop all correspondence with her, she does not intend even to let her know where she lodges. I commend Miss Burchell highly for this, as the acquaintance of such a woman may be hurtful to her reputation.