Lady Mellasin, who never wanted words, and knew how to express herself in the most persuasive terms whenever she pleased to make use of them, had the address to convince the captain that Mr. Goodman was no enemy to his suit, though he would not appear to encourage it.
While the captain was engaged with her ladyship in this discourse, Miss Betsy took the opportunity of telling Mr. Staple that she insisted upon it, that he should be very civil to a rival from whose pretensions he might be certain he had nothing to apprehend; and, moreover, that when she gave him her hand to lead her into the concert-room, he should give his to Miss Flora, without discovering the least marks of discontent: the lover looked on this last injunction as too severe a trial of his patience; but she would needs have it so, and he was under a necessity of obeying, or of suffering much greater mortification from her displeasure.
Soon after this, they all four went to the entertainment in Mr. Goodman's coach, which Lady Mellasin had ordered to be got ready. The captain was mightily pleased with the musick, and had judgment enough in it to know it was better than the band he had on board his ship. 'When they have done playing,' said he, 'I will ask them what they will have to go with me the next voyage.' But Mr. Staple told him it would be affront; that they were men who got more by their instruments than the best officer either by sea or land did by his commission. This mistake, as well as many others the captain fell into, made not only the company he was with, but those who sat near enough to hear him, a good deal of diversion.
Nothing of moment happening either here or at Mr. Goodman's, where they all supped together, it would be needless to repeat any particulars of the conversation; what has been said already of their different sentiments and behaviour, may be a sufficient sample of the whole.
Mr. Goodman had staid abroad till very late that night the concert had been performed, so was not a witness of any thing that had passed after the company came home: but on Lady Mellasin's repeating to him every thing she remembered, was very well pleased to hear that she had reconciled the captain to him; though extremely sorry that the blunt ill-judged affection of that gentleman had exposed him to the ridicule, not only of Miss Betsy, but also of all her followers.
That young lady, in the mean time, was far from having any commiseration for the anxieties of those who loved her; on the contrary, she triumphed in the pains she gave, if it can be supposed that she, who was altogether ignorant of them in herself, could look upon them as sincere in others. But, I am apt to believe, ladies of this cast regard all the professions of love made to them (as, indeed, many of them are) only as words of course—the prerogative of youth and beauty in the one sex, and a duty incumbent on the other to pay: they value themselves on the number and quality of their lovers, as they do upon the number and richness of their cloaths; because it makes them of consideration in the world, and never take the trouble of reflecting how dear it may sometimes cost those to whom they are indebted for indulging this vanity.
That this, at least, was the motive which induced Miss Betsy to treat her lovers in the manner she did, is evident to a demonstration, from every other action of her life. She had a certain softness in her disposition, which rendered her incapable of knowing the distress ofany one, without affording all the relief that was in her power to give; and had she sooner been convinced of the reality of the woes of love, the sooner she had left off the ambition of inflicting them, and, perhaps, have been brought to regard those who laboured under them, rather with too much than too little compassion. But of this the reader will be able to judge on proceeding farther in this history.
There were now three gentlemen, who all of them addressed this young lady on the most honourable terms; yet did her giddy mind make no distinction between the serious passion they had for her, and the idle gallantry she received from those who either had no design in making them, or such as tended to her undoing.
Impatient to hear in what manner Mr. Trueworth would declare himself, and imagining he would come the next day, as he had made so handsome an apology for not having waited on her the preceding one, she told Mr. Staple and Captain Hysom, in order to prevent their coming, that she was engaged to pass that whole afternoon and evening with some ladies of her acquaintance. Neither the captain nor Mr. Staple suspected the truth of what she said; but the former was in too much haste to know some issue of his fate to be quite contented with this delay.
Miss Betsy was not deceived in her expectations. Soon after dinner was over, she was told Mr. Trueworth had sent to know if she was at home, and begged leave to wait upon her. Lady Mellasin having a great deal of company that day in the dining-room, she went into an adjacent one to receive him. He was charmed at finding her alone; a happiness he could not flatter himself with on entering the house: he was assured, by the number of footman that he saw in the hall, that many visitors were there before him. This unexpected piece of good fortune (as he then thought it, especially as he found her playing with the squirrel he had sent to her the day before) so much elated him, that it brightened his whole aspect, and gave a double share of vivacity to his eyes. 'May I hope your pardon, Madam,' said he, 'for presuming to approach you with so trifling a present as that little creature?'—'Oh, Mr. Trueworth!' answered she, 'I will not forgive you if you speak slight of my squirrel, though I am indebted to you for the pleasure he gives me. I love him excessively! You could not have made me a more obliging present.'
'How, Madam!' cried he; 'I should be miserable, indeed, if I had nothing in my power to offer more worthy your acceptance than thatanimal. What think you, Madam, of an adoring and passionately devoted heart?'
'A heart!' rejoined she; 'oh, dear! a heart may be a pretty thing, for aught I know to the contrary: but there is such an enclosure of flesh and bone about it, that it is utterly impossible for one to see into it; and, consequently, to know whether one likes it or not.'
'The heart, Madam, in the sense I mean,' said he, 'implies the soul; which being a spirit, and invisible, can only be known by its effects. If the whole services of mine may render it an oblation, such as may obtain a gracious reception from the amiable Miss Thoughtless, I shall bless the hour in which I first beheld her charms, as the most fortunate one I ever had to boast of.' In ending these words he kissed her hand, with a look full of the greatest respect and tenderness.
She then told him, the services of the soul must needs be valuable, because they were sincere; but, as she knew not of what nature those services were he intended to render her, he must excuse her for not so readily accepting them. On which, it is not to be doubted, but that he assured her they should be only such as were dictated by the most pure affections, and accompanied by the strictest honour.
He was going on with such protestations as may be imagined a man, so much enamoured, would make to the object of his wishes; when he was interrupted by Miss Flora, who came hastily into the room, and told him that her mamma, hearing that he was in the house, expected he would not leave it without letting her have the pleasure of seeing him; that they were just going to tea, and that her ladyship intreated he would join company with those friends she had already with her.
Mr. Trueworth would have been glad to have found some plausible pretence for not complying with this invitation; but as he could not make any that would not be looked on as favouring of ill manners, and Miss Betsy insisted on his going, they all went together into the dining-room.
The lover had now no farther opportunity of prosecuting his suit in this visit; but he made another the next day, more early than before, and found nobody but Mr. Goodman with Miss Betsy, Lady Mellasin and Miss Flora being gone among the shops, either to buy something they wanted, or to tumble over goods, as they frequently did, merely for the sake of seeing new fashions. Mr. Trueworth having never been seen by Mr. Goodman, Miss Betsy presented him to him withthese words—'Sir, this is a gentleman from Oxford, an intimate friend of brother Frank's, and who did me the favour to bring me a letter from him.' There needed no more to make Mr. Goodman know, both who he was, and the business on which he was come. He received him with a great deal of good manners; but, knowing his absence would be most agreeable, after some few compliments, pretended he was called abroad by urgent business, and took his leave.
How much it rejoiced the sincerely devoted heart of Mr. Trueworth, to find himself once more alone with the idol of his wishes, may easily be conceived by those who have had any experience of the passion he so deeply felt: but his felicity was of short continuance, and he profited but little by the complaisance of Mr. Goodman.
He was but just beginning to pour forth some part of those tender sentiments, with which his soul overflowed, when he was prevented from proceeding, by a second interruption, much more disagreeable than the former had been.
Mr. Staple, and Captain Hysom, for whom Miss Betsy had not left the same orders she had done the day before, came both to visit her; the former had the advantage of being there somewhat sooner than the other, and accosted her with an air which made the enamoured heart of Mr. Trueworth immediately beat an alarm to jealousy. Mr. Staple, who had seen him there once before, when he brought her brother's letter to her, did not presently know him for his rival, nor imagined he had any other intent in his visits, than to pay his compliments to the sister of his friend.
They were all three engaged in a conversation which had nothing particular in it, when Miss Betsy was told Captain Hysom desired to speak with her; on which she bid the fellow desire him to walk in. 'He is in the back-parlour, Madam,' replied he: 'I told him you had company, so he desires you will come to him there; for he says he has great business with you, and must needs speak with you.' Both Miss Betsy and Mr. Staple laughed immoderately at this message; but Mr. Trueworth, who was not in the secret, looked a little grave, as not knowing what to think of it. 'You would scarce believe, Sir,' said Mr. Staple to him, 'that this embassy came from the court of Cupid; yet I assure you the captain is one of this lady's most passionate admirers.'—'Yes, indeed,' added Miss Betsy; 'and threatens terrible things to every one who should dare to dispute the conquest of my heart withhim.—But go,' continued she to the footman, 'tell him I have friends with me whom I cannot be so rude to leave, and that I insist on his giving us his company in this room.'
The captain, on this, was prevailed upon to come in, though not very well pleased at finding himself obliged to do so by the positive commands of his mistress. He paid his respects, however, in his blunt manner, to the gentlemen, as well as Miss Betsy; and having drawn his chair as near her as he could, 'I hoped, Madam,' said he, 'you would have found an opportunity of speaking to me before now; you must needs think I am a little uneasy till I know what I have to depend upon.'—'Bless me, Sir!' cried she, 'you talk in an odd manner!—and then,' continued she, pointing to Mr. Trueworth, 'this gentleman here, who is a friend of my brother's, will think I have outrun my income, and that you come to dun me for money borrowed of you.'—'No, no,' answered he, 'as to that, you owe me nothing but good-will, and that I think I deserve for the respect I have for you, if it were for nothing else: but, Madam, I should be glad to know some answer to the business I wrote to you upon?'—'Lord, Sir!' replied she, 'I have not yet had time to think upon it, much less to resolve on any thing.'—'That is strange,' resumed he; 'why, you have had three days; and sure that is long enough to think, and resolve too, on any thing.'—'Not for me, indeed, captain,' answered she, laughing: 'but come, here are just four of us—what think you, gentlemen, of a game of quadrille, to kill time?'
Mr. Trueworth and Mr. Staple told her at once, that they approved the notion; and she was just going to call for cards and fishes, when the captain stopped her, saying, 'I never loved play in my life; and have no time to kill, as mayhap these gentlemen have, who, it is likely, having nothing else to do than to dress and visit: I have a great deal of business upon my hands; the ship is taking in her lading, and I do not know but we may sail in six or seven days, so must desire you will fix a day for us to be alone together, that I may know at once what it is you design to do.'—'Fie, captain!' replied she, 'how can you think of such a thing? I assure you, Sir,' added she, with an affected disdain, 'I never make appointments with gentlemen.'
'That I believe,' said he: 'but you should consider that I live a great way off; it is a long walk from Mile End to St. James's, and I hate your jolting hackney-coaches: besides, I may come and come again, and never be able to get a word with you in private in an afternoon, and all the morning I am engaged either at the India House, or atChange; therefore I should think it is better for both of us not to stand shilly-shally, but come to the point at once; for look ye, fair lady, if we happen to agree, there will be little enough time to settle every thing, as I am obliged to go soon.'—'Too little, in my opinion, Sir,' answered she; 'therefore I think it best to defer talking any more of the matter till you come back.'
'Come back!' cried he; 'why, do you consider I shall be gone three years?'—'Really, Sir,' said she, 'as I told you before, I have never considered any thing about it; nor can promise I shall be able to say any more to you at the end of twice the time you mention, than I can do at present, which I assure you is just nothing at all.'
Though both Mr. Trueworth and Mr. Staple had too much good manners to do any thing that might affront the captain, yet neither of them could restrain their laughter so well as to prevent some marks of the inclination they had for it, from being visible in their faces; and, willing to contribute something on their parts to the diversion they perceived she gave herself with a lover so every way unsuitable to her, one told her that it was a great pity she did not consult the captain's convenience; the other said, that it must needs be a vast fatigue for a gentleman, who was accustomed only to walk the quarter-deck, to take a stretch of four miles at once. 'And all to no purpose,' cried he that had spoken first.—'Pray, Madam, give him his dispatch.'
As little acquainted as the captain was with raillery, he had understanding enough to make him see, that Miss Betsy's behaviour to him had rendered him the jest of all the company that visited her; and this he took so ill, that all the liking he before had to her was now turned into contempt. Finding they were going on in the ironical way they had begun—'Look ye, gentlemen,' said he, with a pretty stern countenance, 'I would advise you to meddle only with such things as concern yourselves; you have nothing to do with me, or I with you. If your errand here be as I suspect it is, there sits one who I dare answer will find you employment enough, as long as you shall think it worth your while to dance attendance.—As for you, Madam,' continued he, turning to Miss Betsy, 'I think it would have become you as well to have given me a more civil answer; if you did not approve of my proposals, you might have told me so at first: but I shall trouble neither you nor myself any farther about the matter. I see how it is, well enough; and when next I steer for the coast of matrimony, shall take care to look out for a port not cumbered withrubbish: so, your servant!'
As he was going out of the house, he met Lady Mellasin and Miss Flora just entering, being returned from the ramble above-mentioned: they saw he was very angry, and would fain have persuaded him to turn back; telling him, that if any misunderstanding had happened between him and Miss Betsy, they would endeavour to make it up and reconcile them. To which he replied, that he thanked them for their love; but he had done with Miss Betsy for good and all; that she was no more than a young flirt, and did not know how to use a gentleman handsomely—said, he should be glad to take a bowl of punch with Mr. Goodman before he went on his voyage; but would not come any more to his house, to be scoffed at by Miss Betsy, and those that came after her.
Miss Flora told him, that it was unjust in him to deprive her mamma and herself of the pleasure of his good company for the fault of Miss Betsy; who, she said, she could not help owning, was of a very giddy temper. Lady Mellasin, to what her daughter had said, added many obliging things, in order to prevail on him either to return, or renew his visits hereafter: but the captain was obstinate; and, persisting in his resolution of coming there no more, took his leave; and Miss Flora lost all hope of receiving any benefit from his being rejected by Miss Betsy.
The greatest part of the time that Mr. Trueworth and Mr. Staple staid with Miss Betsy, was taken up with talking of Captain Hysom; his passion, his behaviour, and the manner in which he received his dismission, afforded, indeed, an ample field for conversation: Lady Mellasin and Miss Flora, relating the answers he had given them on their pressing him to come back, Mr. Trueworth said, that it must be owned, that he had shewn a strength of resolution which few men in love could boast of.
'Love, Sir, according to my notions of that passion,' replied Mr. Staple, 'is not one to be felt by every heart; many deceive themselves in this point, and take for it what is in reality no more than a bare liking of a beautiful object: the captain seems to me to have a soul, as well as form, cast in too rough a mould to be capable of those refined and delicate ideas, which alone constitute and are worthy to be called love.'
'Yet,' said Lady Mellasin, 'I have heard Mr. Goodman give him an excellent character; and, above all, that he is one of the best-natured men breathing.'—'That may be, indeed, Madam,' resumed Mr. Staple; 'and some allowances ought to be made for the manner in which he has been bred: though,' added he, 'I have known many commanders, not only of Indiamen, but of other trading-vessels, who have all their life-time used the sea, yet have known how to behave with politeness enough when on shore.'
Mr. Trueworth agreed with Mr. Staple, that though the amorous declarations of a person of the captain's age, and fashion of bringingup, to one of Miss Betsy's, exposed him to the deserved ridicule of as many as knew it, yet ought not his particular foible to be any reflection on his occupation, which merited to be held in the greatest veneration, as the strength and opulence of the nation was owing to its commerce in foreign parts.
This was highly obliging to Mr. Staple, whose father had been a merchant; and Mr. Trueworth being the first who took his leave, perceiving the other staid supper, he said abundance of handsome things in his praise; and seemed to have conceived so high esteem of him, that Miss Betsy was diverted in her mind to think how he would change his way of speaking, when once the secret of his rivalship should come out, as she knew it could not fail to do in a short time.
But as easy as Mr. Staple was at present on this occasion, Mr. Trueworth was no less anxious and perplexed: he was convinced that the other visited Miss Betsy on no other score than that of love; and it appeared to him equally certain, by the freedom with which he saw him treated by the family, that he was likewise greatly encouraged, if not by Miss Betsy herself, at least by her guardian.
His thoughts were now wholly taken up with the means by which he might gain the advantage over a rival, whom he looked upon as a formidable one, not only for his personal accomplishments, but also for his having the good fortune to address her before himself. All he could do was to prevent, as much as possible, all opportunities of his entertaining Miss Betsy in private, till the arrival of Mr. Francis Thoughtless, from whose friendship, and the influence he had over his sister, he hoped much.
He waited on her the next day very early: Mr. Goodman happening to dine that day later than ordinary, on account of some friends he had with him, and the cloth not being drawn, Miss Betsy went and received him in another room. Having this favourable opportunity, he immediately began to prepare for putting into execution one of those strategems he had contrived for separating her from Mr. Staple. After some few tender speeches, he fell into a discourse concerning the weather; said, he was sorry to perceive the days so much shortened—that summer would soon be gone; and added, that as that beautiful season could last but a small time, the most should be made of it. 'I came,' said he, 'to intreat the favour of you and Miss Flora, to permit me to accompany you in an airing through Brompton, Kensington, Chelsea, and the other little villages on this side of London.'
Miss Betsy replied, that she would go with all her heart, and believed she could answer the same for Miss Flora, there being only two grave dons and their wives within, whom she would be glad to be disengaged from: 'But if not,' said she, 'I can send for a young lady in the neighbourhood, who will be glad to give us her company.'
She sent first, however, to Miss Flora, who immediately came in; and, the proposal being made, accepted it with pleasure; and added, that she would ask her mamma for orders for the coach to be got ready. 'It need not, Madam,' said Mr. Trueworth; 'my servant is here, and he shall get one from Blunt's.' But Miss Flora insisted on their going in Mr. Goodman's; saying, she was certain neither he nor her mamma would go out that day, as the company they had were come to stay; on which Mr. Trueworth complied.
When she had left the room—'Ah, Madam!' said he to Miss Betsy, 'could I flatter myself with believing I owed this condescension to any other motive than your complaisance, to a person who has some share in your brother's friendship, I should be blessed indeed; but, ah! I see I have a rival—a rival dangerous to my hopes, not only on the account of his merits, but also as he had the honour of declaring his passion before me: the fortunate Mr. Staple,' added he, kissing her hand, 'may, perhaps have already made some impression on that heart I would sacrifice my all to gain; and I am come too late.'
'Rather too soon,' replied she, smiling; 'both of you equally too soon, admitting his sentiments for me to be as you imagine; for I assure you, Sir, my heart has hitherto been entirely my own, and is not very likely to incline to the reception of any guest of the nature you mean, for yet a long—long time. Whoever thinks to gain me, must not be in a hurry, like Captain Hysom.'
Mr. Trueworth was about to make some passionate reply, when Miss Flora returned, and told them the coach would be ready immediately, for she herself had spoke to the coachman, and bid him put the horses to with all the haste he could; on which the lover expressed his sense of the obligation he had to her for taking this trouble in the politest terms.
A person of much less discernment than this gentleman, might easily perceive, that the way to be agreeable to Miss Betsy, was not to be too serious; he therefore assumed all the vivacity he was master of, both before they went, and during the whole course of the little tour they made, in which it is not to be doubted but he regaled them with every thing the places they passed through could furnish.
The ladies were so well pleased, both with their entertainment and the company of the person who entertained them, that they seemed not in haste to go home; and he had the double satisfaction of enjoying the presence of his mistress, and of giving at least one day's disappointment to his rival: he was confirmed in the truth of this conjecture, when, on returning to Mr. Goodman's, which was not till some hours after close of day, the footman who opened the door told Miss Betsy that Mr. Staple had been to wait upon her.
After this it may be supposed he had a night of much more tranquillity than the preceding one had afforded him. The next morning, as early as he thought decency permitted, he made a visit to Miss Betsy, under the pretence of coming to enquire if her health had not suffered by being abroad in the night air, and how she had rested. She received him with a great deal of sprightliness; and replied, she found herself so well after it, as to be ready for such another jaunt whenever he had a fancy for it. 'I take you at your word, Madam,' cried he, transported to hear she anticipated what he came on purpose to intreat. 'I am ready this moment, if you please,' continued he; 'and we will either take a barge, and go up the river, or a coach to Hampstead, just to diversify the scene: you have only to say which you chuse.'
She then told him there was a necessity of deferring their ramble till the afternoon, because Miss Flora was abroad, and would not return till dinner-time. 'As to what route we shall take, and every thing belonging to it,' said she, 'I leave it entirely to you; I know nobody who has a more elegant taste, or a better judgment.'—'I have taken care,' replied he, 'to give the world a high opinion of me in both, by making my addresses to the amiable Miss Betsy: but, Madam,' pursued he, 'since we are alone, will you give me leave to tell you how I have employed my hours this morning?'—'Why—in dressing—breakfasting—and, perhaps, a little reading!' answered she. 'A small time, Madam, suffices for the two former articles with me,' resumed he; 'but I have, indeed, been reading: happening to dip into the works of a poet, who wrote near a century ago, I found some words so adapted to the situation of my heart, and so agreeable to the sense of the answer I was about to make yesterday to what you said, concerning the persistence of a lover, that I could not forbear putting some notes to them, which I beg you will give me your opinion of.'
In speaking these words, he took a piece of paper out of his pocket, and sung the following stanza.
I.'The patriarch, to gain a wifeChaste, beautiful, and young,Serv'd fourteen years, a painful life,And never thought it long.II.Oh! were you to reward such cares,And life so long would stay,Not fourteen, but four hundred years,Would seem but as one day.'
I.
'The patriarch, to gain a wifeChaste, beautiful, and young,Serv'd fourteen years, a painful life,And never thought it long.
II.
Oh! were you to reward such cares,And life so long would stay,Not fourteen, but four hundred years,Would seem but as one day.'
Mr. Trueworth had a fine voice, and great skill in musick, having perfected himself in that science from the best masters when he was in Italy. Miss Betsy was so charmed both with the words and the notes, that she made him sing them several times over, and afterwards set them down in her musick-book, to the end that she might get them by heart, and join her voice in concert with her spinnet.
Mr. Trueworth would not make his morning visit too long, believing it might be her time to dress against dinner, as she was now in such a dishabille as ladies usually put on at their first rising: so, after having received a second promise from her of giving him her company that day abroad, took his leave, highly satisfied with the progress he imagined he had made in her good graces.
The wind happening to grow a little boisterous, though the weather otherwise was fair and clear, made Mr. Trueworth think a land journey would be more agreeable to the ladies, than to venture themselves upon the water: he therefore procured a handsome livery-coach; and, attended by his two servants, went to Mr. Goodman's. The ladies were already in expectation of him, and did not make him wait a moment.
Nothing extraordinary happening at this entertainment, nor at those others, which, for several succeeding days, without intermission, Mr. Trueworth prevailed on his mistress to accept, it would be superfluous to trouble the reader with the particulars of them.
Mr. Staple all this time was very uneasy: he had not seen Miss Betsy for a whole week; and, though he knew not as yet, that he was deprived of that satisfaction, by her being engrossed by a rival, yet he now began to be sensible she had less regard for him than he hadflattered himself he had inspired her with; and this of itself was a sufficient mortification to a young gentleman, who was not only passionately in love, but also could not, without being guilty of great injustice to his own merits, but think himself not altogether unworthy of succeeding. This, however, was no more than a slight sample of the inquietudes which the blind god sometimes inflicts on hearts devoted to him; as will hereafter appear in the progress of this history.
Mr. Trueworth, who was yet far from being acquainted with the temper of the object he adored, now thought he had no reason to despair of being one day in possession of all he aimed to obtain; it seemed certain, to him, at least, that he had nothing to apprehend from the pretensions of a rival, who at first he had looked upon as so formidable, and no other at present interposed between him and his designs.
Miss Betsy, in the mean while, wholly regardless of who hoped, or who despaired, had no aim in any thing she did, but merely to divert herself; and to that end laid hold of every opportunity that offered. Mr. Goodman, having casually mentioned, as they were at supper, that one Mr. Soulguard had just taken orders, and was to preach his first sermon at Westminster Abbey the next day, she presently had a curiosity of hearing how he would behave in the pulpit; his over-modest, and, as they termed it, sheepish behaviour in company, having, as often as he came there, afforded matter of ridicule to her and Miss Flora. These two young ladies therefore, talking on it after they were in bed, agreed to go to the cathedral, not doubting but they should have enough to laugh at, and repeat to all those of their acquaintance who had ever seen him.
What mere trifles, what airy nothings, serve to amuse a mind to not taken up with more essential matters! Miss Betsy was so full of the diversion she should have in hearing the down-looked bashful Mr. Soulguard harangue his congregation, that she could think and talk of nothing else, till the hour arrived when she should go to experiencewhat she had so pleasant an idea of.
Miss Flora, who had till now seemed as eager as herself, cried all at once, that her head ached, and that she did not care for stirring out. Miss Betsy, who would fain have laughed her out of it, told her, she had only got the vapours; that the parson would cure her; and such like things: but the other was not to be prevailed upon by all Miss Betsy, or even Lady Mellasin herself, could say; and answered, with some sullenness, that positively she would not go. Miss Betsy was highly ruffled at this sudden turn of her temper, as it was now too late to send for any other young lady of her acquaintance to go with her; resolving, nevertheless, not to baulk her humour, she ordered a chair to be called, and went alone.
Neither the young parson's manner of preaching, nor the text he chose, being in any way material to this history, I shall therefore pass over the time of divine service; and only say, that after it was ended Miss Betsy passing towards the west gate, and stopping to look on the fine tomb, erected to the memory of Mr. Secretary Craggs, was accosted by Mr. Bloomacre, a young gentleman who sometimes visited Lady Mellasin, and lived at Westminster, in which place he had a large estate.
He had with him, when he came up to her, two gentlemen of his acquaintance, but who were entire strangers to Miss Betsy: 'What,' said he, 'the celebrated Miss Betsy Thoughtless! Miss Betsy Thoughtless! the idol of mankind! alone, unattended by any of her train of admirers, and contemplating these mementos of mortality!'—'To compliment my understanding,' replied she, gaily, 'you should rather have told me I was contemplating the mementos of great actions.'—'You are at the wrong end of the cathedral for that, Madam,' resumed he; 'and I don't remember to have heard anything extraordinary of the life of this great man, whose effigy makes so fine a figure here, except the favours he received from the ladies.'
'It were too much, then, to bestow them on him both alive and dead,' cried she; 'therefore we will pass on to some other.'
Mr. Bloomacre had a great deal of wit and vivacity; nor were his two companions deficient in either of these qualities: so that, between the three, Miss Betsy was very agreeably entertained. They went round from tomb to tomb; and the real characters, as well as epitaphs, some of which are flattering enough, afforded a variety of observations. In fine, the conversation was so pleasing to Miss Betsy,that she never thought of going home till it grew too dark to examine either the sculpture, or the inscriptions; so insensibly does time glide on, when accompanied with satisfaction.
But now ensued a mortification, which struck a damp on the sprightliness of this young lady: she had sent away the chair which brought her, not doubting but that there would be others about the church-doors. She knew not how difficult it was to procure such a vehicle in Westminster, especially on a Sunday. To add to her vexation, it rained very much, and she was not in a habit fit to travel on foot in any weather, much less in such as this.
They went down into the cloisters, in order to find some person whom they might send either for a coach or chair, for the gentlemen would have been glad of such conveniences for themselves, as well as Miss Betsy: they walked round and round several times, without hearing or seeing any body; but, at last, a fellow, who used to be employed in sweeping the church-doors, offered his service to procure them what they wanted, in case there was a possibility of doing it: they promised to gratify him well for his pains; and he ran with all the speed he could, to do as he had said.
The rain and wind increased to such a prodigious height, that scarce was ever a more tempestuous evening. Almost a whole hour was elapsed, and the man not come back; so that they had reason to fear neither coach nor chair was to be got. Miss Betsy began to grow extremely impatient; the gentlemen endeavoured all they could to keep her in a good humour: 'We have a good stone roof over our heads, Madam,' said one of them, 'and that at present shelters us from the inclemency of the elements.'—'Besides,' cried another, 'the storm cannot last always; and when it is a little abated, here are three of us, we will take you in our arms by turns, and carry you home.' All this would not make Miss Betsy laugh, and she was in the utmost agitation of mind to think what she should do; when, on a sudden, a door in that part of the cloister, which leads to Little Dean's Yard was opened, and a very young lady, not exceeding eleven years of age, but very richly habited, came running out, and taking Miss Betsy by the sleeve, 'Madam,' said she, 'I beg to speak with you.' Miss Betsy was surprized; but, stepping some paces from the gentleman, to hear what she had to say, the other drawing towards the door, cried, 'Please, Madam, to come in here!' On which she followed, and the gentlemen stood about some four or five yards distant. Miss Betsy had no sooner reached the threshold, which had a step down into thehall, and pulling her gently down, as if to communicate what she had to say with the more privacy, than a footman, who stood behind the door, immediately clapped it to, and put the chain across, as if he apprehended some violence might be offered to it. Miss Betsy was in so much consternation, that she was unable to speak one word; till the young lady, who still had hold of her hand, said to her, 'You may thank Heaven, Madam, that our family happened to be in town, else I do not know what mischief might have befallen you.'—'Bless me!' cried Miss Betsy, and was going on; but the other interrupted her, saying, hastily, as she led her forward, 'Walk this way; my brother will tell you all.' Miss Betsy then stopped short, 'What means all this?' said she: 'Where am I, pray, Miss? Who is your brother?' To which the other replied, that her brother was the Lord Viscount ——, and that he at present was the owner of that house.
The surprize Miss Betsy had been put in by this young lady's first accosting her, was not at all dissipated by these words, but had now an equal portion of curiosity added to it: she longed to know the meaning of words, which at present seemed so mysterious to her, and with what kind of mischief she had been threatened, that she readily accompanied her young conductress into a magnificent parlour, at the upper end of which sat the nobleman she had been told of. 'I am extremely happy,' said he, as soon as he saw her enter, 'that Providence has put it in my power to rescue so fine a lady, from the villainy contrived against her.'
Miss Betsy replied, that she should always be thankful for any favours conferred upon her; but desired to know of what nature they were, for which she was indebted to his lordship; he then told her, that the persons she had been with had the most base designs upon her; that he had heard from a closet-window, where he was sitting, two of them lay a plot for carrying her off in a hackney-coach; and added, that being struck with horror at the foul intention, he had contrived, by the means of his sister, to get her out of their power; 'For,' said he, 'I know one of them to be so bloody a villain, that had I gone out myself, I must have fallen a sacrifice to their resentment.'
Miss Betsy was quite confounded; she knew not how to question the veracity of a nobleman, who could have no view or interest to deceive her; yet it was equally incongruous to her, that Mr. Bloomacre could harbour any designs upon her of that sort his lordship mentioned; she had several times been in company with that gentleman, and he had never behaved towards her in a manner whichcould give her room to suspect he had any dishonourable intentions towards her: but then, the treatment she had received from the gentleman-commoner at Oxford, reminded her, that men of an amorous complexion want only an opportunity to shew those inclinations, which indolence, or perhaps indelicacy, prevents them from attempting to gratify by assiduities and courtship.
After having taken some little time to consider what she should say, she replied that she was infinitely obliged to his lordship for the care he took of her, but might very well be amazed to hear those gentlemen had any ill designs upon her, two of whom were perfect strangers, and the other often visited at the house where she was boarded. As for the sending for a coach, she said it was by her own desire, if no chair could be procured: and added, that if his lordship had no other reason to apprehend any ill was meant to her, she could not, without injustice, forbear to clear up the mistake.
Lord —— was a little confounded at these words; but, soon recovering himself, told her that she knew not the real character of the persons she had been with; that Bloomacre was one of the greatest libertines in the world; that, though she might agree to have a coach sent for, she could not be sure to what place it would carry her; and that he heard two of them, while the third was entertaining her, speak to each other in a manner which convinced him the most villainous contrivance was about to be practised on her.
A loud knocking at the door now interrupted their discourse; both his lordship and his sister seemed terribly alarmed: all the servants were called, and charge given not to open the door upon any account, to bar up the lower windows; and to give answers from those above, to whoever was there. The knocking continued with greater violence than it began, and Miss Betsy heard the gentlemen's voices talking to the servant; and, though she could not distinguish what they said, found there were very high words between them. My lord's sister ran into the hall to listen; then came back, crying, 'O what terrible oaths!—I am afraid they will break open the door!'—'No,' replied Lord ——; 'it is too strong for that: but I wish we had been so wise as to send for a constable.' One of the servants came down, and repeated what their young lady had said; adding, that the gentlemen swore they would not leave the place till they had spoke with the lady, who they said had been trepanned into that house. On this, 'Suppose, my lord,' said Miss Betsy, 'I go to the door and tell them that I will not go with them.'—'No, Madam,' answered Lord ——, 'I cannot consent my doorshould be opened to such ruffians; besides that they would certainly seize and carry you off by force, I know not what mischief they might do my poor men, for having at first refused them entrance.' She then said she would go up to the window, and answer them from thence; but he would not suffer her to be seen by them at all: and, to keep her from insisting on it, told her a great many stories of rapes, and other mischiefs, that had been perpetrated by Bloomacre, and those he kept company with.
All this did not give Miss Betsy those terrors, which, it is very plain his lordship and sister endeavoured to inspire her with; yet would she say no more of appearing to the gentlemen, as she found he was so averse to it.
At length the knocking ceased; and one of the footmen came down, and said that those who had given his lordship this disturbance had withdrawn from the door, and he believed they were gone quite out of the cloisters: but this intelligence did not satisfy Lord ——; he either was, or pretended to be, in fear that they were still skulking in some corner, and would rush in if once they saw the door opened. There was still the same difficulty as ever, how Miss Betsy should get home; that is, how she should get safely out of the house; for, the rain being over, the servants said they did not doubt but they should be able to procure a chair or coach: after much debating on this matter, it was thus contrived.
Lord —— had a window that looked into the yard of one of the prebendaries; a footman was to go out of the window to the back-door of that reverend divine, relate the whole story, and beg leave to go through his house: that request being granted, the footman went, and returned in less than half an hour, with the welcome news that a chair was ready, and waited in College Street. Miss Betsy had no way of passing, but by the same the footman had done, which she easily did, by being lifted by my lord into the window, and descending from it by the help of some steps placed on the other side by the servants of the prebendary.
It would be superfluous to trouble the reader with any speeches made by Lord ——, and his sister, to Miss Betsy, or the replies she made to them; I shall only say, that passing through his house, and the College Garden, at the door of which the chair waited, she went into it, preceded by Lord ——'s footman, muffled up in a cloak, and without a flambeau, to prevent being known, in case she should be met by Bloomacre, or either of his companions: and with thisequipage she arrived safe at home, though not without a mind strangely perplexed at the meaning of this adventure.
It was near ten o'clock when Miss Betsy came home; and Mr. Goodman, who had been very uneasy at her staying out so late, especially as she was alone, was equally rejoiced at her return; but, as well as Lady Mellasin, was surprized on hearing by what accident she had been detained—they knew not how to judge of it—there was no circumstance in the whole affair which could make them think Mr. Bloomacre had any designs of the sort Lord —— had suggested: yet did Mr. Goodman think himself obliged, as the young lady's guardian, to go to that gentleman, and have some talk with him concerning what had passed. Accordingly, he went the next morning to his house; but, not finding him at home, left word with his servant that he desired to speak with him as soon as possible: he came not, however, the whole day, nor sent any message to excuse his not doing so; and this neglect gave Mr. Goodman, and Miss Betsy herself, some room to suspect he was no less guilty than he had been represented, since had he been perfectly innocent, it seemed reasonable to them to think he would have come, even of his own accord, to have learned of Miss Betsy the motive of her leaving him in so abrupt and odd a manner—but how much they wronged him will presently appear, and they were afterwards convinced.
There was an implacable animosity between Lord —— and Mr. Bloomacre, on account of the former's pretending a right to some lands which the other held, and could not be dispossessed of by law. As his lordship knew Mr. Bloomacre was not of a disposition to bearan affront tamely, he had no other way to vent his spleen against him, than by villifying and traducing him in all companies he came into; but this he took care to do in so artful a manner, as to be enabled either to evade, or render what he said impossible to be proved, in case he were called to an account for it.
The affair of Miss Betsy, innocent as it was, he thought gave him an excellent opportunity of gratifying his malice: he went early the next morning to the dean, complained of an insult offered to his house by Mr. Bloomacre, on the score of his sister having brought in a young lady, whom that gentleman had detained in the cloisters, and was going to carry off, by the assistance of some friends he had with him, in a hackney-coach.
The dean, who was also a bishop, was extremely incensed, as well he might, at so glaring a profanation of that sacred place; and the moment Lord —— had taken his leave, sent for Mr. Bloomacre to come to him. That gentleman immediately obeying the summons, the bishop began to reprimand him in terms, which the occasion seemed to require from a person of his function and authority: Mr. Bloomacre could not forbear interrupting him, though with the greatest respect, saying nothing could be more false and base, than such an accusation; that whoever had given such an information was a villain, and merited to be used as such. The prelate, seeing him in this heat, would not mention the name of his accuser; but replied coolly, that it was possible he might be wronged; but to convince him that he was so, he must relate to him the whole truth of the story, and on what grounds a conjecture so much to the disadvantage of his reputation had been formed. On which Mr. Bloomacre repeated every thing that had passed; and added, that he was well acquainted with the family where the young lady was boarded, and that he was certain she would appear in person to justify him in this point, if his lordship thought it proper. 'But,' said the bishop, 'I hear you affronted the Lord ——, by thundering at his door, and abusing his servants.'—'No, my lord,' answered Mr. Bloomacre, 'Lord ——, though far from being my friend, will not dare to alledge any such thing against me. We were, indeed, a little surprized to see the young lady, who was with us, snatched away in so odd a fashion by his sister, who we easily perceived had not the least acquaintance with her. We continued walking, however, in the cloister, till the man whom we had sent for a coach returned, and told us he had got one, and that it waited at the gate. We then, indeed, knocked at Lord ——'sdoor; and being answered from the windows by the servants, in a very impertinent manner, I believe we might utter some words not very respectful either of his lordship or his sister, whose behaviour in this affair I am as yet entirely ignorant how to account for.'
The bishop paused a considerable time; but on Mr. Bloomacre's repeating what he had said before, concerning bringing the young lady herself to vouch the truth of what he had related to his lordship, replied, that there was no occasion for troubling either her or himself any farther; that he believed there had been some mistake in the business, and that he should think no more of it: on which Mr. Bloomacre took his leave.
Though the bishop had not mentioned the name of Lord —— to Mr. Bloomacre, as the person who had brought this complaint against him, yet he was very certain, by all circumstances, that he could be indebted to no other for such a piece of low malice; and this, joined to some other provocations he had received from the ill-will of that nobleman, made him resolve to do himself justice.
He went directly from the deanry in search of the two gentlemen who had been with him in the Abbey when he happened to meet Miss Betsy; and, having found them both, they went to a tavern together, in order to consult on what was proper to be done, for the chastisement of Lord ——'s folly and ill-nature.
Both of them agreed with Mr. Bloomacre, that he ought to demand that satisfaction which every gentleman has a right to expect from any one who has injured him, of what degree soever he be, excepting those of royal blood. Each of them was so eager to be his second in this affair, that they were obliged to draw lots for the determination of the choice: he who had the ill-luck, as he called it, to draw the shortest cut, would needs oblige them to let him be the bearer of the challenge, that he might at least have some share in inflicting the punishment, which the behaviour of that unworthy lord so justly merited.
The challenge was wrote—the place appointed for meeting was the field behind Montague House: but the gentleman who carried it, brought no answer back; his lordship telling him only that he would consider on the matter, and let Mr. Bloomacre know his intentions.
Mr. Bloomacre, as the principal, and the other as his second, were so enraged at this, that the latter resolved to go himself, and force a more categorical answer. He did so; and Lord —— having had time to consult his brother, and, as it is said, some other friends, told him heaccepted the challenge, and would be ready with his second at the time and place appointed in it.
Mr. Bloomacre did not go home that whole day, therefore knew nothing of the message that had been left for him by Mr. Goodman, till it was too late to comply with it; but this seeming remissness in him was not all that troubled the mind of that open and honest-hearted guardian of Miss Betsy. Mr. Trueworth and Mr. Staple had both been at his house the day before: the former, on hearing his mistress was abroad, left only his compliments, and went away, though very much pressed to come in by Miss Flora, who seeing him through the parlour-window, ran to the door herself, and intreated he would pass the evening there. Mr. Staple came the moment after, and met his rival coming down the steps that led up to the door; Mr. Trueworth saluted him, in passing, with the usual complaisance, which the other returned in a very cool manner, and knocked hastily at the door. 'I imagine,' said he to the footman who opened it, 'that Miss Betsy is not at home, by that gentleman's having so early taken leave: but I would speak with Mr. Goodman, if he be at leisure.'
He was then shewed into the back-parlour, which was the room where Mr. Goodman generally received those persons who came to him upon business. On hearing who it was that asked for him, he was a little surprized, and desired he would walk up stairs: but Mr. Staple not knowing but there might be company above, returned for answer, that he had no more than a word or two to say to him, and that must be in private; on which the other immediately came down to him.
This young lover having by accident been informed, not only that Mr. Trueworth made his addresses to Miss Betsy, but also that it was with him she had been engaged during all that time he had been deprived of seeing her, thought it proper to talk with Mr. Goodman concerning this new obstacle to his wishes. That worthy gentleman was extremely troubled to be questioned on an affair, on which he had given Miss Betsy his word not to interfere: but finding himself very much pressed by a person whose passion he had encouraged, and who was the son of one with whom he had lived in a long friendship, he frankly confessed to him that Mr. Trueworth was indeed recommended to Miss Betsy by her brother; told him he was sorry the thing had happened so, but had nothing farther to do with it; that the young lady was at her own disposal, as to the article of marriage; that he was ignorant how she would determine; and that it must be from herself alone he could learn what it was he mightexpect or hope.
Mr. Staple received little satisfaction from what Mr. Goodman had said; but resolved to take his advice, and, if possible, bring Miss Betsy to some eclaircissement of the fate he was to hope or fear. Accordingly, he came the next morning to visit her; a liberty he had never taken, nor would now, if he had not despaired of finding her in the afternoon.
She gave herself, however, no airs of resentment on that account: but when he began to testify his discontent concerning Mr. Trueworth, and the apprehensions he had of his having gained the preference in her heart, though the last who had solicited that happiness, she replied, in the most haughty tones, that she was surprized at the freedom he took with her; that she was, and ever would be, mistress of her actions and sentiments, and no man had a right to pry into either; and concluded with saying, that she was sorry the civilities she had treated him with, should make him imagine he had a privilege of finding fault with those she shewed to others.
It is not to be doubted but that he made use of all the arguments in his power to convince her, that a true and perfect passion was never unaccompanied with jealous fears. He acknowledged the merits of Mr. Trueworth: 'But,' added he, 'the more he is possessed of, the more dangerous he is to my hopes.' And then begged her to consider the torments he had suffered, while being so long deprived of her presence, and knowing, at the same time, a rival was blessed with it.
Miss Betsy was not at this time in a humour either to be persuaded by the reasons, or softened by the submissions, of her lover: and poor Mr. Staple, after having urged all that love, wit, despair, and grief, could dictate, was obliged to depart more dissatisfied than he came.
In going out he saw Mr. Goodman in the parlour, who gave him the 'Good morning!' as he passed. 'A sad one it has been to me,' answered he, with somewhat of horror in his countenance: 'but I will not endure the rack of many such.' With these words he flung out of the house, in order to go about what, perhaps, the reader is not at a loss to guess at.
Well may the God of Love be painted blind! Those devoted to his influence are seldom capable of seeing things as they truly are; the smallest favour elates them with imaginary hopes, and the least coolness sinks then into despair: their joys, their griefs, their fears, more frequently spring from ideal rather than effective causes. Mr. Staple judged not that Miss Betsy refused to ease his jealous apprehensions on the score of Mr. Trueworth, because it was her natural temper to give pain to those that loved her, but because she really had an affection for that gentleman. Looking on himself, therefore, as now abandoned to all hope, rage and revenge took the whole possession of his soul, and chased away the softer emotions thence.
Having heard Mr. Trueworth say he lodged in Pall Mall, he went to the Cocoa Tree; and there informing himself of the particular house where his rival might be found, sat down and wrote the following billet.
'To Charles Trueworth, Esq.Sir,Both our wishes tend to the possession of one beautiful object; both cannot be happy in the accomplishment: it is fit, therefore, the sword should decide the difference between us, and put an end to those pretensions on the one side or the other, which it is not probable either of us will otherwise recede from. In confidence of yourcomplying with this proposal, I shall attend you in the Green Park, between the hours of seven and eight to-morrow morning. As the affair concerns only ourselves, I think it both needless and unjust to engage any of our friends in it; so shall come alone, and expect you will do the same to, Sir, your humble servant,T. Staple.'
'To Charles Trueworth, Esq.
Sir,
Both our wishes tend to the possession of one beautiful object; both cannot be happy in the accomplishment: it is fit, therefore, the sword should decide the difference between us, and put an end to those pretensions on the one side or the other, which it is not probable either of us will otherwise recede from. In confidence of yourcomplying with this proposal, I shall attend you in the Green Park, between the hours of seven and eight to-morrow morning. As the affair concerns only ourselves, I think it both needless and unjust to engage any of our friends in it; so shall come alone, and expect you will do the same to, Sir, your humble servant,
T. Staple.'
Mr. Trueworth was at home; and, on receiving this, immediately, and without the least hesitation, wrote and sent back, by the same messenger, the following answer.
'To T. Staple, Esq.Sir,Though I cannot but think the decision of our fate ought to be left entirely to the lady herself, (to whom, whatever be the fortune of the sword, it must at last be referred) yet, as I cannot, without being guilty of injustice to my own honour and pretensions, refuse you the satisfaction you require, shall not fail to meet you at the time and place mentioned in yours; till when, I am, Sir, your humble servant,C. Trueworth.'
'To T. Staple, Esq.
Sir,
Though I cannot but think the decision of our fate ought to be left entirely to the lady herself, (to whom, whatever be the fortune of the sword, it must at last be referred) yet, as I cannot, without being guilty of injustice to my own honour and pretensions, refuse you the satisfaction you require, shall not fail to meet you at the time and place mentioned in yours; till when, I am, Sir, your humble servant,
C. Trueworth.'
By the stile of this letter, it may be easily perceived that Mr. Trueworth was not very well pleased with this combat, though the greatness of his courage and spirit would not permit him to harbour the least thought of avoiding it: yet, whatever his thoughts were on this occasion, he visited Miss Betsy the same day, and discovered no part of them in his countenance; his behaviour, on the contrary, was rather more sprightly than usual. He proposed to the two young ladies to go on some party of pleasure. Miss Betsy replied, with her accustomed freedom, that she should like it very well; but Miss Flora, who had been for three or four days past very sullen and ill-humoured, said one minute she would go, and the next that she would not; and gave herself such odd and capricious airs, that Miss Betsy told her she believed her head was turned: to which the other replied, tartly, that if the distemper was catching, it would be no wonder she should be infected, having it always so near her. Miss Betsy replied, that she knew no greater proof of madness than to punish one's self in the hope of mortifying another: 'But that shall never be my case,' continued she; 'as you will find.' Then turning to Mr. Trueworth, 'If you will accept of my company, without Miss Flora,' said she, laughing, 'we will take a walk into the Park.' It is notto be doubted but that the lover gladly embraced this opportunity of having his mistress to himself. 'It is like Miss Betsy Thoughtless,' cried Miss Flora; 'and only like herself, to go abroad with a man alone.' Miss Betsy regarded not this reproach; but, catching up her fan and gloves, gave Mr. Trueworth her hand, to lead her where she had proposed, leaving the other so full of spite, that the tears gushed from her eyes.
It is likely the reader will be pretty much surprized, that Miss Flora, who had always seemed more ready than even Miss Betsy herself, to accept of invitations of the sort Mr. Trueworth had made, should now, all at once, become so averse: but his curiosity for an explanation of this matter must be for a while postponed; others, for which he may be equally impatient, requiring to be first discussed.
Two duels having been agreed upon to be fought on the same morning, the respect due to the quality of L——, demands we should give that wherein he was concerned, the preference in the repetition.
The hour appointed being arrived, Lord —— and his brother came into the field: Mr. Bloomacre and his friend appeared immediately after. 'You are the persons,' said Lord ——, in an exulting tone, 'who made the invitation; but we are the first at table.'—'It is not yet past the time,' replied Bloomacre, looking on his watch; 'but the later we come, the more eagerly we shall fall to.' In that instant all their swords were drawn; but they had scarce time to exchange one thrust, before a posse of constables, with their assistants, armed with staves and clubs, rushed in between them, beat down their weapons, and carried them all four to the house of the high-bailiff of Westminster.
That gentleman, by virtue of his office, made a strict examination into what had passed; and, having heard what both parties had to say, severely reprimanded the one for having given the provocation, and the other for the manner in which it was resented: he told them he had a right, in order to preserve the peace of Westminster, and the liberties of it, to demand, that they should find sureties for their future behaviour; but, in regard to their quality and character, he would insist on no more than their own word and honour that the thing should be mutually forgot, and that nothing of the same kind, which now had been happily prevented, should hereafter be attempted.
Lord —— submitted to this injunction with a great deal of readiness; and Mr. Bloomacre, seeing no other remedy, did the same: after which the high bailiff obliged them to embrace, in token of thesincerity of their reconciliation.
Thus ended an affair which had threatened such terrible consequences. It made, however, a very great noise; and the discourse upon it was no way to the advantage of Lord ——'s character, either for generosity or courage. Let us now see the sequel of the challenge sent by Mr. Staple to Mr. Trueworth.
These gentlemen met almost at the same time, in the place the challenger had appointed: few words served to usher in the execution of the fatal purpose; Mr. Staple only said, 'Come on, Sir! Love is the word, and Miss Betsy Thoughtless be the victor's prize.' With these words he drew his sword; Mr. Trueworth also drew his; and, standing on his defence, seeing the other was about to push, cried, 'Hold, Sir! your better fortune may triumph over my life, but never make me yield up my pretensions to that amiable lady: if I die, I die her martyr, and wish not to live but in the hope of serving her.' These words making Mr. Staple imagine, that his rival had indeed the greatest encouragement to hope every thing, added to the fury he was before possessed of, 'Die, then, her martyr!' said he; and running upon him with more force than skill, received a slight wound in his own breast, while aiming to the other's heart.
It would be needless to mention all the particulars of this combat; I shall only say, that the too great eagerness of Mr. Staple, gave the other an advantage over him, which must have been fatal to him from a less generous enemy: but the temperate Mr. Trueworth seemed to take an equal care to avoid hurting his rival, as to avoid being hurt by him; seeing, however, that he was about to make a furious push at him, he ran in between, closed with him, and Mr. Staple's foot happening to slip, he fell at full-length upon the earth, his sword at the same time dropped out of his hand, which Mr. Trueworth took up. 'The victory is yours,' cried he; 'take also my life, for I disdain to keep it.'—'No,' replied Mr. Trueworth, 'I equally disdain to take an advantage, which mere chance has given me: rise, Sir, and let us finish the dispute between us, as becomes men of honour.' With these words he returned to him his sword. 'I should be unworthy to be ranked among that number,' said Mr. Staple, on receiving it, 'to employ this weapon against the breast, whose generosity restored it, were any thing but Miss Betsy at stake: but, what is life! what is even honour, without the hope of her! I therefore accept your noble offer; and death or conquest be my lot!' They then renewed the engagement with greater violence than before: after several passes,Mr. Trueworth's dexterity could not hinder him from receiving a wound on his left-side; but he gave the other, at the same time, so deep a one in his right-arm, that it deprived him in an instant of the power of continuing the fight; on which Mr. Trueworth dropping the point of his sword, ran to him, 'I am sorry, Sir,' said he, 'for the accident that has happened; I see you are much hurt: permit me to assist you as well as I am able, and attend you where proper care may be taken of you.'—'I do not deserve this goodness,' answered Mr. Staple; 'but it is the will of Heaven that you vanquish every way.'
Mr. Trueworth then seeing the blood run quite down upon his hand, stripped up the sleeve, and bound the wound from which it issued, as tight as he could with his handkerchief, after which they went together to an eminent surgeon near Piccadilly. On examination of his wounds, neither that in his arm, nor in his breast, appeared to be at all dangerous, the flesh being only pierced, and no artery or tendon touched. Mr. Trueworth seemed only assiduous in his cares for the hurts he had given his rival, without mentioning the least word of that which he had received himself, till an elderly gentleman, who happened to be with the surgeon when they came in, and had all the time been present, perceiving some blood upon the side of his coat, a little above the hip, cried out, 'Sir, you neglect yourself. I fear you have not escaped unhurt.'—'A trifle,' said Mr. Trueworth, 'a mere scratch, I believe; it is time enough to think of that.' Nor would he suffer the surgeon, though he bled very fast, to come near him, till he had done with Mr. Staple. It was, indeed, but a slight wound which Mr. Trueworth had received, though happening among a knot of veins, occasioned the effusion of a pretty deal of blood; for the stopping of which the surgeon applied an immediate remedy, and told him that it required little for a cure besides keeping it from the air.
Mr. Staple, who had been deeply affected with the concern this generous enemy had expressed for him, was equally rejoiced at hearing the wound he had given him would be attended with no bad consequences. Every thing that was needful being done for both, the old gentleman prevailed upon them to go with him to a tavern a few doors off, having first obtained the surgeon's leave; who told him a glass or two of wine could be of no prejudice to either.
This good-natured gentleman, who was called Mr. Chatfree, used to come frequently to Mr. Goodman's house, had some knowledge of Mr. Staple; and, though he was wholly unacquainted with Mr.Trueworth, conceived so great an esteem for him, from his behaviour towards the person he had fought with, that he thought he could not do a more meritorious action, than to reconcile to each other two such worthy persons. What effect his endeavours, or rather their own nobleness of sentiments produced, shall presently be shewn.