Though Mr. Goodman had as yet no intimations of the accidents of that morning, yet was he extremely uneasy; the looks, as well as words of Mr. Staple, in going of his house the day before, were continually in his mind, and he could not forbear apprehending some fatal consequence would, one time or another, attend the levity of Miss Betsy's behaviour and conduct, in regard to her admirers: he was also both surprized and vexed, that Mr. Bloomacre, from whom he expected an explanation of the Westminster Abbey adventure, had not come according to his request. This last motive of his disquiet was, however, soon removed: Mr. Bloomacre, who was no less impatient to clear himself of all blame concerning the transactions of that night, had no sooner finished his affair with Lord ——, and was dismissed by the high-bailiff, than he came directly to Mr. Goodman's, and recited to him, and all the ladies, the whole of what had passed.
Miss Betsy laughed prodigiously; but Mr. Goodman shook his head, on hearing the particulars related by Mr. Bloomacre; and, after that gentleman was gone, reproved, as he thought it his duty to do, the inconsiderateness of her conduct: he told her, that as she was alone, she ought to have left the Abbey as soon as divine service was ended; that, for a person of her sex, age, and appearance, to walk in a place where there were always a great concourse of young sparks, who came for no other purpose than to make remarks upon the ladies, could not but be looked on as very odd by all who saw her. 'There was no rain,' said he, 'till a long time after the service wasended, and you might then, in all probability, have got a chair; or if not, the walk over the Park could not have been a very great fatigue.'
Miss Betsy blushed extremely, not through a conscious shame of imagining what she had done deserved the least rebuke, but because her spirit, yet unbroke, could not bear control: she replied, that as she meant no ill, those who censured her were most in fault. 'That is very true,' answered Mr. Goodman; 'but, my dear child, you cannot but know it is a fault which too many in the world are guilty of. I doubt not of your innocence, but would have you consider, that reputation is also of some value; that the honour of a young maid, like you, is a flower of so tender and delicate a nature, that the least breath of scandal withers and destroys it. In fine, that it is not enough to be good, without behaving in such a manner as to make others acknowledge us to be so.'
Miss Betsy had too much understanding not to be sensible what her guardian said on this occasion was perfectly just; and also that he had a right to offer his advice whenever her conduct rendered it necessary; but could not help being vexed, that any thing she did should be liable to censure, as she thought it merited none: she made no farther reply, however, to what Mr. Goodman said, though he continued his remonstrances, and probably would have gone on much longer, if not interrupted by the coming in of Mr. Chatfree. This gentleman having parted from the two wounded rivals, came directly to Mr. Goodman's, in order to see how Miss Betsy would receive the intelligence he had to bring her.
After paying his compliments to Mr. Goodman, and the other ladies, he came towards Miss Betsy; and looking on her with a more than ordinary earnestness in his countenance, 'Ah, Madam!' said he, 'I shall never hereafter see you without remembering what Cowley says of a lady who might, I suppose, be like you—
"So fatal, and withal so fair,We're told destroying-angels are."'
"So fatal, and withal so fair,We're told destroying-angels are."'
Though Miss Betsy was not at that time in a humour to have any great relish for raillery, yet she could not forbear replying to what this old gentleman said, in the manner in which she imagined he spoke. 'You are at least past the age of being destroyed by any weapons I carry about me,' cried she: 'but, pray, what meaning have you in this terrible simile?'—'My meaning is as terrible as the simile,' answeredhe; 'and though I believe you to be very much the favourite of Heaven, I know not how you will atone for the mischief you have been the occasion of this morning: but it may be,' continued he, 'you think it nothing that those murdering eyes of yours have set two gentlemen a fighting.'
Miss Betsy, supposing no other than that he had heard of the quarrel between Mr. Bloomacre and Lord ——, replied merrily, 'Pray accuse my eyes of no such thing; they are very innocent, I assure you.'—'Yes,' cried Mr. Goodman, and Lady Mellasin at the same time, 'we can clear Miss Betsy of this accusation.'
'What!' rejoined Mr. Chatfree, hastily, 'were not Mr. Staple and Mr. Trueworth rivals for her love?'—'Mr. Staple and Mr. Trueworth!' said Miss Betsy, in a good deal of consternation; 'pray what of them?'—'Oh, the most inveterate duel!' answered he; 'they fought above half an hour, and poor Mr. Staple is dead of his wounds.'—'Dead!' cried Miss Betsy, with a great scream. Lady Mellasin and Miss Flora seemed very much alarmed; but Mr. Goodman was ready to sink from his chair, till Mr. Chatfree, unseen by Miss Betsy, winked upon him, in token that he was not in earnest in what he said.
The distraction in which this young lady now appeared, the concern she expressed for Mr. Staple, and her indignation against Mr. Trueworth, would have made any one think the former had much the preference in her esteem; till Mr. Chatfree, after having listened to her exclamations on this score, cried out on a sudden, 'Ah, Madam! what a mistake has the confusion I was involved in made me guilty of! Alas, I have deceived you, though without designing to do so! Mr. Staple lives, it is Mr. Trueworth who has fallen a sacrifice to his unsuccessful passion for you.' 'Trueworth dead!' cried Miss Betsy; 'O God! and does his murderer live to triumph in the fall of the best and most accomplished man on earth? Oh! may all the miseries that Heaven and earth can inflict, light on him!—Is he not secured, Mr. Chatfree?—Will he not be hanged?'
Mr. Chatfree could hold his countenance no longer; but bursting into a violent fit of laughter, 'Ah, Miss Betsy! Miss Betsy! I have caught you. Mr. Trueworth, I find, then, is the happy man.'—'What do you mean, Mr. Chatfree?' cried Miss Betsy, very much amazed. 'I beg your pardon,' answered he, 'for the fright I have put you in; but be comforted, for Mr. Trueworth is not dead, I assure you; and, I doubt not, lives as much your slave as ever.'—'I do not care what heis, if he is not dead,' said Miss Betsy; 'but, pray, for what end did you invent this fine story?'—'Nay, Madam,' resumed he, 'it is not altogether my own inventing neither; for Mr. Trueworth and Mr. Staple have had a duel this morning, and both of them are wounded, though not so dangerously as I pretended, merely to try, by the concern you would express, which of them you were must inclined to favour; and I have done it i'faith—Mr. Trueworth is the man!'
Lady Mellasin, who had not spoke during all this conversation, now cried out, 'Aye, Mr. Chatfree, we shall soon have a wedding, I believe.'—'Believe, Madam!' said he, 'why your ladyship may swear it! for my part, I will not give above a fortnight for the conclusion; and I will venture to wish the fair bride joy on the occasion, for he is a fine gentleman—a very fine gentleman, indeed! and I think she could not have made a better choice.' With these words he wiped his mouth, and advanced to Miss Betsy, in order to salute her; but, pushing him scornfully back, 'None of your slights, good Mr. Chatfree,' said she; 'if I thought you were in earnest, I would never see the face of Mr. Trueworth more.'
This did not hinder the pleasant old gentleman from continuing his raillery; he plainly told Miss Betsy that she was in love; that he saw the marks of it upon her, and that it was vain for her to deny it. Lady Mellasin laughed very heartily to see the fret Miss Betsy was in, at hearing Mr. Chatfree talk in this manner: but Miss Flora, to whom one would imagine this scene would have been diverting enough, never opened her lips to utter one syllable; but made such grimaces, as had they been taken notice of, would have shewn how little she was pleased with it.
Mr. Goodman had been so much struck with the first account given by Mr. Chatfree, that he was not to be rouzed by any thing that gentleman said afterwards; he reflected, that though the consequences of the encounter between the two rivals had been less fatal than he had been made to imagine, yet it might have happened, and indeed been naturally expected; he could not forbear, therefore, interrupting his friend's mirth, by remonstrating to Miss Betsy, in the most serious terms, the great error she was guilty of, by encouraging a plurality of lovers at the same time: he told her, that gentlemen of Mr. Trueworth's and Mr. Staple's character and fortune, ought not to be trifled with. 'Suppose,' said he, 'that one or both of them had indeed been killed, how could you have answered to yourself, or to the world, the having been the sad occasion?'
'Lord, Sir,' replied Miss Betsy, walking up and down the room in a good deal of agitation, 'what would you have me do? I do not want the men to love me; and if they will play the fool, and fight, and kill one another, it is none of my fault.'
In fine, between Mr. Chatfree's raillery, and Mr. Goodman's admonitions, this poor young lady was teazed beyond all patience; and, finding it impossible to put a stop to either, she flew out of the room, ready to cry with vexation.
She was no sooner gone, than Mr. Goodman took Mr. Chatfree into his closet; and, having learned from him all the particulars of the late duel, and consulted with him what was proper to be done to prevent any farther mischief of the like sort, they went together to Mr. Staple's lodging, in order to use their utmost endeavours to prevail on that gentleman to desist the prosecution of his addresses to Miss Betsy.
Though Mr. Goodman, under whose care and in whose house Miss Betsy had been for upwards of a year, knew much more of that young lady's humour and disposition than Mr. Chatfree, who saw her but seldom, could possibly do, and could not be brought to think, as he did, that the merits of Mr. Trueworth had made any effectual impression on her heart; yet he imagined, that to propogate such an opinion to Mr. Staple, would conduce very much to persuade him to break off his courtship, which was a thing very much desired by Mr. Goodman, as he was certain the continuance of it would be attended with almost insurmountable difficulties, and create many vexations and disputes, when Mr. Francis Thoughtless came to town.
The two old gentlemen went on together, discoursing on this affair, till they came to the lodgings of Mr. Staple; where they found him in an easy chair, leaning on a table, with papers and a standish before him. They perceived he had been writing, for the pen was not out of his hand when they entered the room: he threw it down, however, as soon as he saw them, and rose to receive them with a great deal of politeness, though accompanied with an air, which, in spite of his endeavours to conceal it, discovered he laboured under an extraordinary dejection of spirits.
'I am glad,' said Mr. Chatfree, pointing to the pen, 'to see you are able to make use of that weapon, as I feared your arm had been too much prejudiced by another.'—'I have found some difficulty, indeed, in doing it,' replied the wounded gentleman; 'but something, which seemed to me a case of necessity, obliged me to exert my utmostefforts for that purpose.'
After the first civilities were over, and they were all seated, Mr. Goodman and Mr. Chatfree began to open the business upon which they came. Mr. Goodman represented to him, in the most pathetick terms, the deep concern he had been in, for having ever encouraged his addresses to Miss Betsy; and excused himself for having done so, by his ignorance, at the time, that Mr. Trueworth had been previously recommended by her brother. He then gave him some hints, that the civilities Miss Betsy had treated him with, he feared, were rather owing to that little vanity which is generally the companion of youth and beauty, than to that real regard which his passion and person merited from her; and said, he heartily wished to see him withdraw his affections from an object, where he could not now flatter him with the least hope of a suitable return.
'No, no!' cried Mr. Chatfree, interrupting him hastily, 'you may take my word, she is as much in love as a girl of her temper can be with Mr. Trueworth; and I do not doubt but you will all see the effects of it as soon as her brother comes to town.' Mr. Goodman, on this, took an opportunity of telling Mr. Staple, that the ascendant that young gentleman had over his sister, and the zeal he expressed for the interest of his friend, would certainly go a great way in determining the point; and added, that if it were true, as his friends suggested, that she really had an inclination for Mr. Trueworth, she would then avow it, and make a merit of it to her brother, as if done merely in regard to him.
Many other arguments were urged by these two gentlemen, in order to convince Mr. Staple of the little probability there was in succeeding with Miss Betsy: all which he listened to attentively, never interrupting what either of them said; till, perceiving they had ended all they had to offer on the subject, he made them this reply.
'Gentlemen,' said he, 'I am infinitely obliged to you both for this visit, and the friendly purpose of it; which, I perceive, was to give me that advice which you might reasonably think I wanted. I have heard, and I believe have not lost one word, at least, I am sure, no part of the meaning, of what you have delivered. I own there is a great justice in every thing you have alledged; and am pleased to think the arguments you bring, are such as, before your coming here, I had myself brought against the folly of my own unhappy passion for Miss Betsy. But, gentlemen, it is not that I am capable of being deterredfrom prosecuting it, by any thing I might have to apprehend, either by her own inclinations or her brother's persuasions; but for other reasons, which at present, perhaps, you may be ignorant of, yet are such as to conceal I should but half be just. Be pleased, Sir,' he continued, addressing himself to Mr. Goodman, and giving him a paper, 'to read that letter, and see what my resolutions are, and the motives I have for them.'
Mr. Goodman was beginning to look over the paper; but Mr. Staple requested he would read it aloud, as he desired that Mr. Chatfree should be partaker of the contents: on which he read, with an audible voice, these lines.
'To Charles Trueworth, Esq.Sir,When I proposed the decision of our fate by force of arms, I offered, at the same time, that the glory of serving Miss Betsy should be the victor's triumph. This your too great modesty declined: but, Sir, though you scorned to accept the advantage your superior skill acquired, your generosity, in spite of you, has gained. I love Miss Betsy; and would have maintained my claim against all who should have dared dispute her with me, while justice and while honour permitted me to do so: but though I am unfortunate, I never can be base. My life, worthless as it is, has twice been in your power; and I should be no less hateful to myself, than contemptible to the world, should I offer to interrupt the peace of him that gave it. May you be as successful in love as you have been in fight, and the amiable object be convinced of her own happiness in making yours! I desist for ever from the vain hopes I once was flattered with; and the first wish my soul now harbours is, to be worthy the title of your friend, as I am bound to avow myself, with the greatest sincerity, Sir, your most obliged and most humble servant,T. Staple.'
'To Charles Trueworth, Esq.
Sir,
When I proposed the decision of our fate by force of arms, I offered, at the same time, that the glory of serving Miss Betsy should be the victor's triumph. This your too great modesty declined: but, Sir, though you scorned to accept the advantage your superior skill acquired, your generosity, in spite of you, has gained. I love Miss Betsy; and would have maintained my claim against all who should have dared dispute her with me, while justice and while honour permitted me to do so: but though I am unfortunate, I never can be base. My life, worthless as it is, has twice been in your power; and I should be no less hateful to myself, than contemptible to the world, should I offer to interrupt the peace of him that gave it. May you be as successful in love as you have been in fight, and the amiable object be convinced of her own happiness in making yours! I desist for ever from the vain hopes I once was flattered with; and the first wish my soul now harbours is, to be worthy the title of your friend, as I am bound to avow myself, with the greatest sincerity, Sir, your most obliged and most humble servant,
T. Staple.'
'Nothing,' said Mr. Goodman, as soon as he had done reading, 'can equal your generosity in forming this resolution, but the wisdom in persisting in it; and if I find you do so, shall have more reason to congratulate you upon it, than I should think I had on the success of your wishes in marrying Miss Betsy.'
'I should laugh now,' cried Mr. Chatfree, 'if Mr. Trueworth, in a fit of generosity too, should also take it into his head to resign hispretensions, and chuse to wear the willow, instead of the myrtle-garland, because you do so.'—'He has already proved his generosity,' replied Mr. Staple, with a sigh, which he was unable to restrain, 'and has no need to give the severe testimony you mention, if he is so happy as you seem to think he is: but,' continued he, 'it is not my business to examine who yields, or who pursues, Miss Betsy. I am fixed in my determination to see her no more; and, as soon as I am recovered from the hurts I have received on her account, will go into the country, and seek a cure in absence for my unavailing passion.'
Neither Mr. Goodman nor Mr. Chatfree were so old as to have forgot how hard it is for a youthful heart to give up it's darling wishes, and sacrifice desire to discretion. They said abundance of handsome things, omitting nothing which they imagined might add to the fortitude of his present way of thinking. He, on the other hand, to take from them all remains of doubt concerning the sincerity of his intentions, sealed the letter he had wrote to Mr. Trueworth, and sent it to that gentleman, while they were in the room.
Mr. Goodman was extremely pleased in his mind, that an affair, which, for some time past, had given him a good deal of anxiety, was in so fair a way of being ended without farther mischief: he took no notice, however, on his return home, at least, not before Miss Betsy, of the visit he had been making, or that he knew any thing more of Mr. Staple, than what she had been told herself by Mr. Chatfree.
In the mean time, this young lady affected to appear more grave than ordinary: I say, affected to be so; for as she had been at first shocked by Mr. Chatfree's report, and afterwards teazed by his raillery, and then reprimanded on the score of her conduct by Mr. Goodman, she was not displeased in her heart at the dangerous proof which the two lovers had given her of their passion.
She lost, however, great part of the satisfaction this adventure might have afforded her, for want of a proper person to whom she might have talked freely on it. She had, indeed, many acquaintances, in some of whom she, doubtless, might have confided; but she did not chuse to be herself the reporter of this story to any one who had not heard of it from other hands; and Miss Flora, who knew the whole, and was her companion and bedfellow, was grown of late so sullen and peevish, as not to be capable of either giving or receiving any diversion in discourses of that nature.
It is certain, however, that there never was a more astonishing alteration in the temper of any one person in so short a time, than inthat of Miss Flora: her once gay and sprightly behaviour, which, without being a beauty, rendered her extremely agreeable, was now become all dull and gloomy. Instead of being fond of a great deal of company, she now rather chose to avoid than covet the society of any one: she said but little; and, when she spoke, it was only to contradict whatever she heard alledged by others. A heavy melancholy, mixed with an ill-natured frown, perpetually loured upon her brow: in fine, if she had been a little older, she might have sat for the picture of Envy. Miss Betsy, by being most with her, felt most the effects of her bad humour; but as she thought she could easily account, the sweetness of her disposition made her rather pity than resent the change.
A young linen-draper, of whom Lady Mellasin sometimes bought things, had taken a great fancy to Miss Flora; and not doubting but she had a fortune in some measure answerable to the appearance she made, got a friend to intercede with Lady Mellasin, for leave to pay his respects to her daughter. This being granted, he made several visits to the house, and was very well received by Miss Flora herself, as well as by those who had the disposal of her; till, coming on the topick of fortune, Mr. Goodman plainly told him, that having many relations of his own to provide for, the most he could spare to Miss Flora was five hundred pounds. The draper's passion was very much damped on hearing his mistress's portion was like to be so small: he told Mr. Goodman, that though he was very much charmed with the person and behaviour of the young lady, and should be proud of the honour of an alliance with such a family, yet as he was a young man, and but lately set up for himself, he wanted money to throw into trade, and could not think of marrying without more than three times the sum offered. He added, that a young lady of her birth, and bringing up, would expect to live as she had been accustomed, which he could no way promise she should do, without a fortune sufficient to defray the expence.
Mr. Goodman thought the reasons he gave were very just; and as he was unwilling to stretch his hand any farther than he had said, and was too honest to promise more than he intended to perform, replied, with the same freedom that the other had spoke, that in truth he did not think Flora would make a fit wife for a tradesman; that the girl was young enough, not ugly; and it was his opinion that she should wait till a more suitable match should offer. In a word, Mr. Goodman's answer put a final stop to the courtship; and though MissFlora affected to disdain the mercenary views, as she termed them, of the draper, and never spoke of him but with the utmost contempt, yet her melancholy coming on soon after he had desisted his addresses, made Miss Betsy think she had reason to impute it to no other cause; and therefore, in mere compassion to this imaginary mortification, was so far from retorting any of those little taunts and malicious innuendoes, with which she was continually treated by the other, that she took all the pains she could to alleviate the vexation she saw her in, and soothe her into a better humour.
The reader will probably think as Miss Betsy did: but the falsity of this conjecture, and the cruel return the good-nature of that young lady met with, will in due time and place appear.
According to the common rule of honour among gentlemen, Mr. Trueworth had certainly behaved so, as not to have either that, or his good nature, called in question: but this was not enough to satisfy him; he could not be easy under the reflection, that the obligations he had conferred gave a painful gratitude to the receiver.
He was deeply affected with Mr. Staple's letter; he doubted not but that gentleman, in forcing himself to resign his pretensions to Miss Betsy, must suffer the extremest agonies; and heartily commiserating a case, which, had fortune so decreed, might have been his own, immediately wrote to him in the following terms.
'To T. Staple, Esq.Sir,I am ashamed to find the little I have done so much over-rated by a person, who, I am certain, is capable of the greatest things; but should be involved in more confusion still, should any consideration of me, or my happiness, prevail on you to become an enemy to your own. I am altogether unacquainted with what kind of sentiments either of us is regarded by the fair object of our mutual wishes. It is highly probable her young heart may, as yet, be quite insensible of those we have endeavoured to inspire it with: for my own part, as I have yet no reason to despair, so I have had also but little room for hope. You, Sir, have an equal chance, for any thing I know, or can boast of to the contrary; and, as you saw I refused to hazard mypretensions on the point of the sword, neither justice nor honour requires you should forfeit yours, though an accident gave me the advantage of you in the field. It is by Miss Betsy herself our fate is to be judged. It is yet a moot-point whether either of us will succeed in the attempt of pleasing her. We may, perhaps, contend for an airy expectation; while another, more fortunate, shall bear away the prize from both: but if one of us is decreed to be the happy man, on which soever the lot shall fall, he ought not to incur the hatred of the other.I gladly embrace the offer of your friendship; and whatever is the fortune of our love, should in that, as in all other events, endeavour to prove, that I am, with an equal sincerity, Sir, your very much obliged, and most humble servant,C. Trueworth.'
'To T. Staple, Esq.
Sir,
I am ashamed to find the little I have done so much over-rated by a person, who, I am certain, is capable of the greatest things; but should be involved in more confusion still, should any consideration of me, or my happiness, prevail on you to become an enemy to your own. I am altogether unacquainted with what kind of sentiments either of us is regarded by the fair object of our mutual wishes. It is highly probable her young heart may, as yet, be quite insensible of those we have endeavoured to inspire it with: for my own part, as I have yet no reason to despair, so I have had also but little room for hope. You, Sir, have an equal chance, for any thing I know, or can boast of to the contrary; and, as you saw I refused to hazard mypretensions on the point of the sword, neither justice nor honour requires you should forfeit yours, though an accident gave me the advantage of you in the field. It is by Miss Betsy herself our fate is to be judged. It is yet a moot-point whether either of us will succeed in the attempt of pleasing her. We may, perhaps, contend for an airy expectation; while another, more fortunate, shall bear away the prize from both: but if one of us is decreed to be the happy man, on which soever the lot shall fall, he ought not to incur the hatred of the other.
I gladly embrace the offer of your friendship; and whatever is the fortune of our love, should in that, as in all other events, endeavour to prove, that I am, with an equal sincerity, Sir, your very much obliged, and most humble servant,
C. Trueworth.'
Mr. Staple read this letter many times over; but received not all the satisfaction which the author intended it should give him: although he acknowledged the generosity of his rival, yet he could not conceive there was a possibility for a man in love to be easy under the addresses of another, without knowing himself secure of not being prejudiced by them. He therefore concluded, that Mr. Chatfree was right in his conjecture; and that Miss Betsy only waited for her brother's coming to town, to declare in favour of Mr. Trueworth.
This gentleman had a great share of spirit, and some pride; and these making him disdain to pursue a fruitless aim, and suffering himself to be publickly overcome by Mr. Trueworth in love, as he had been in fight, very much contributed to enable him to keep that resolution he had formed in the presence of Mr. Goodman and Mr. Chatfree.
He answered to Mr. Trueworth's letter, however, with the utmost complaisance; but without letting him know any part of his intentions in relation to Miss Betsy, fearing lest any farther contest on this affair might draw from that gentleman fresh proofs of a generosity to which already he looked upon himself as too much obliged.
Miss Betsy, little suspecting what had passed between her two lovers since their meeting in the Green Park, received Mr. Trueworth, when he came to visit her the same day, as usual, with a great deal of good-humour. She took not any notice that she had heard of the duel, imagining that he would himself inform her of it; and he not thinking it would become him to do so, as having the advantage of his rival, it is probable there would have been nomention made of it, if Lady Mellasin had not come into the room, and told him, that she would not have broke in upon his conversation with Miss Betsy, if it had been possible for her to have resisted the pleasure of congratulating him, not only on his safety, but also on his coming off victor in the field of battle.
The modesty of Mr. Trueworth would not suffer him to hear these last words without blushing; but, soon recovering himself, 'Fortune, Madam,' answered he, 'is not always the most favourable to the most deserving: her partial smiles will never make me vain or happy; unless,' continued he, looking tenderly on Miss Betsy, 'she would add to her indulgence here, and give me room to hope my services to this lady might one day be crowned with the same success as she this morning gave my sword.'—'The one,' said Miss Betsy, smiling, 'has nothing to do with the other; and I do not know how to think a man, who really wishes nothing so much as to appear agreeable in the eyes of his mistress, would run the hazard of making the contemptible figure of a culprit at the bar of a court of judicature.'
They then fell into some discourse on duelling; and Mr. Trueworth could not help joining with the ladies, in condemning the folly of that custom, which, contrary to the known laws of the land, and oftentimes contrary to his own reason too, obliges the gentleman either to obey the call of the person who challenges him to the field, or, by refusing, submits himself not only to all the insults his adversary is pleased to treat him with, but also to be branded with the infamous character of a coward by all that know him.
Nothing material enough to be related happened in this visit, except that Miss Flora, who had been abroad when Mr. Trueworth came, and returned home a short time before he went away, talked much more in half an hour than she had done for some whole days past; but it was in so cold a manner, sometimes praising, sometimes blaming, his conduct in regard to the transactions of that morning, that he could not well determine in his mind, whether she was a friend or an enemy to the success of his passion. Miss Betsy herself was a little surprized; but nothing relating to that young lady dwelt much upon her mind, as she really thought she had no design in any thing she said or did. The behaviour of Mr. Staple ran much more in her head: she knew he was pretty much wounded, and therefore might suppose him unable to wait on her in person; but having expected he would send his compliments to her, either by letter or message, and finding he did neither the whole day, it seemed to her athing too strange to be accounted for. She was, however, eased of the suspense she was in on that score, by receiving from him, as she was at breakfast the next morning, the following epistle.
'To Miss Betsy Thoughtless.Madam,A brother's recommendations, superior merit, and your own inclination, have all united to plead my rival's cause, and gain the verdict against unhappy me! I ought more early to have seen the vanity of attempting to succeed where Mr. Trueworth was the candidate; yet, hurried by the violence of my passion, I rushed into an action, which, by adding to his glory, has shewn my demerits in a more conspicuous light than ever.It would be needless to repeat what happened yesterday: I cannot doubt, Madam, but you are well acquainted with all the particulars of my folly, and the just punishment it met with. I have only to say, the generosity of my rival, and my conqueror, has restored me to my lost reason, and convinced me, that whatever preference he may be so happy as to have gained in your esteem, he is indebted for it to the excellence of your good sense, and not to that partial fancy, which frequently misguides the choice of persons of your sex and age.I would have waited on you in person, to take my everlasting leave; but I am not certain how far I ought to depend on the strength of my resolution in your presence. Permit, therefore, my pen to do that which my tongue would falter in performing. Yes, Madam, I must forego, renounce for ever, those glorious expectations with which so lately I had flattered my fond heart; henceforth must think on you as the fallen father of mankind did on the tree of life; the merits of my too accomplished rival are the flaming swords which drive me from my once hoped for paradise; and, while I mourn my unhappy state, compel me to own it to be just. Farewel, O most amiable of your sex! farewel, for ever! I have troubled you too long, and have no excuse to make, but that it is the last you shall receive from me. May the blessed guardians of the fair and good be your constant directors, and shield you from all ills! Be assured, that till I cease to exist, I shall not cease to be, with the sincerest good wishes, Madam, your most faithful, though unfortunate, humble servant,T. Staple.'
'To Miss Betsy Thoughtless.
Madam,
A brother's recommendations, superior merit, and your own inclination, have all united to plead my rival's cause, and gain the verdict against unhappy me! I ought more early to have seen the vanity of attempting to succeed where Mr. Trueworth was the candidate; yet, hurried by the violence of my passion, I rushed into an action, which, by adding to his glory, has shewn my demerits in a more conspicuous light than ever.
It would be needless to repeat what happened yesterday: I cannot doubt, Madam, but you are well acquainted with all the particulars of my folly, and the just punishment it met with. I have only to say, the generosity of my rival, and my conqueror, has restored me to my lost reason, and convinced me, that whatever preference he may be so happy as to have gained in your esteem, he is indebted for it to the excellence of your good sense, and not to that partial fancy, which frequently misguides the choice of persons of your sex and age.
I would have waited on you in person, to take my everlasting leave; but I am not certain how far I ought to depend on the strength of my resolution in your presence. Permit, therefore, my pen to do that which my tongue would falter in performing. Yes, Madam, I must forego, renounce for ever, those glorious expectations with which so lately I had flattered my fond heart; henceforth must think on you as the fallen father of mankind did on the tree of life; the merits of my too accomplished rival are the flaming swords which drive me from my once hoped for paradise; and, while I mourn my unhappy state, compel me to own it to be just. Farewel, O most amiable of your sex! farewel, for ever! I have troubled you too long, and have no excuse to make, but that it is the last you shall receive from me. May the blessed guardians of the fair and good be your constant directors, and shield you from all ills! Be assured, that till I cease to exist, I shall not cease to be, with the sincerest good wishes, Madam, your most faithful, though unfortunate, humble servant,
T. Staple.'
Miss Betsy was astonished to that degree, on reading so unexpected a declaration, that she could scarce believe she was awakefor some moments, and thought it all a dream—she broke off, and made several pauses in the reading; crying out, 'Good God! It is impossible! What does the man mean! How came such stuff into his head? He is mad, sure!'
Mr. Goodman, who had some notion of what had put her into this ferment, and was willing to be more confirmed, asked her, in a pleasant way, what had occasioned it. 'Indeed, Sir,' replied Miss Betsy, endeavouring to compose herself, 'I have been so confounded, that I knew not where I was, or who was in the room.—I ask your pardon; but this, I hope, will plead my excuse,' continued she, throwing the letter on the table; 'your friend has given over his suit to me, which I am very glad of; but the motives, which he pretends obliges him to it, are so odd and capricious, as not to be accounted for.'
'Given over his suit!' cried Lady Mellasin, hastily. 'Oh! pray let us hear on what pretence!' On which Mr. Goodman read the letter aloud, the very repetition of which renewed Miss Betsy's agitations. 'He has acted,' said Mr. Goodman, as soon as he had done reading, 'like a man of sense and resolution; and I see no cause why you should be disconcerted at the loss of a lover, whose pretensions you did not design to favour.'—'He was very hasty, however,' cried Miss Betsy, scornfully, 'in concluding for me. What! did the man think I was to be won at once? Did he imagine his merits were so extraordinary, that there required no more to obtain, than barely to ask? But I give myself no concern on that score, I assure you, Sir: it is the insolence of his accusing me of being in love that vexes me. Who told him, I wonder, or how came such a thing into his head, that Mr. Trueworth had the preference in my esteem? By the manner in which he speaks of him in this letter, he has found more perfections in him than ever I did, and would make one think he were himself enamoured of his rival's merits.'
In answer to all this, he told her, with a serious air, that Mr. Staple was bound, by all those ties which engage a noble mind, to act in the manner he had done; that he had been twice indebted to Mr. Trueworth for his life; and that the whole behaviour of that gentleman towards him, both during the combat, and after it was over, demanded all the returns that gratitude could pay.
He afterwards ran into a detail of all the particulars of what had passed between the two rivals, many of which the ladies were ignorant of before. Lady Mellasin joined with her husband inextolling the greatness of soul which Mr. Trueworth had shewn on this occasion: but Miss Flora said little; and what she did, was rather in praise of Mr. Staple. 'Mr. Trueworth,' cried she, 'is a fine gentleman enough; but has done no more than what any man of honour would do; and, for my part, I think that Mr. Staple, in putting the self-denial he has now shewn in practice, discovers more of the hero and philosopher than the other has done.'
The conversation on this topick lasted some time, and probably would not have broke off so soon, if it had not been interrupted by two young ladies coming in to ask Miss Betsy and Miss Flora if they were not for the Park that morning. To which they having agreed, and promised to call on them in their way, went up into their chamber, in order to prepare themselves for the walk proposed.
Miss Flora, who had been deterred from saying all she had a mind to do, on the affair between Miss Betsy's two lovers, now took this opportunity of giving her tongue all the latitude it wanted. They were no sooner come into the chamber, than, 'Lord, my dear,' cried she, with a tone vastly different from that in which she had spoke to her of late, 'how vexed am I for you! It will certainly go all about the town, that you are in love with Trueworth; and there will be such cabals, and such whispering about it, that you will be plagued to death: I could tear him to pieces, methinks; for I am sure he is a vain fellow, and the hint must come first from himself.'
'I never saw any thing like vanity in him,' replied Miss Betsy; 'and I am rather inclined to believe Mr. Staple got the notion from the idle rattle of Mr. Chatfree.'—'Mr. Chatfree,' said Miss Flora, 'thought of no such thing himself, till he had been at the tavern with Mr. Trueworth; but, if I was in your place, I would convince Mr. Staple, and the world, that I was not capable of the weakness imputed to me.'
'Why, what would you have me do?' cried Miss Betsy. 'I would have you write to Mr. Staple,' answered the other, 'and let him know the deception his rival has put upon him.' Miss Betsy, who had always an aversion to any thing of this kind, and thought it too great a condescension to write on any score to a man who had pretended love to her, shook her head at this proposal, and exclaimed against it with the utmost vehemence.
Miss Flora made use of all the arguments she could think on, tobring her off from what she called so ill-judged a pride: among other things, she told her, that, in compassion to the despair that gentleman had so feelingly expressed in his letter, she ought to give him the consolation of knowing, that if he had not gained so far on her affections as he wished, it was not because his rival had gained more; and added, that the steps she persuaded her to take, were such as common justice to her own character had a right to exact from her.
Miss Betsy heard, but was not to be prevailed upon by all she could say on this subject; but the other, who had a greater share of artifice than perhaps was ever known in one of her years, would not give over the design she had formed in her head; and, perceiving that the writing to a man was the greatest objection Miss Betsy had to letting Mr. Staple know she was not so much attached to his rival as he imagined, took another way of working her to her purpose, which she thought would be less irksome.
'Well, then, my dear Miss Betsy,' said she, in the most flattering accent, 'I will tell you the only method you can take, and I am glad I have been so lucky to hit upon it: you shall let me go and make Mr. Staple a visit, as of my own accord; I shall take care not to drop a syllable that may give him room to think you know of my coming; but yet, as he may suppose I am enough in your secrets to be mistress of this, or at least not altogether a stranger to it, he will, doubtless, say something to me concerning the matter; but if he should not, it will be easy for me, in the way of discourse, and as it were by chance, to express myself in such terms as will entirely clear you, and rid him of all the apprehensions he is under, of your being in love with Mr. Trueworth.'
Miss Betsy was not in her heart at all averse to Mr. Staple's having that eclaircissement Miss Flora had mentioned, and was much less shocked at this proposal than she had been at the former, offered to her consideration for that purpose; yet did not seem to come into it, till the other had lavished all the arguments that woman, witty and wilful to obtain her ends, could urge to prevail on her to do so; and at last consented not to the execution, without exacting from Miss Flora the most solemn vow of an inviolable secrecy.
This project being concluded on, and everything relating to it settled while they were dressing, they went together according to their promise, to the ladies who expected them, and then accompanied them into the Park: but as if this was to be a day of surprizes to Miss Betsy, she here met with something which gave her,at least, an equal share with that she had received from the letter of Mr. Staple.
They had not gone many yards in the Mall before they saw three gentlemen coming towards them; one of whom, as they drew nearer to each other, Miss Betsy and Miss Flora presently knew to be the son of Alderman Saving, though he was grown fatter, more ruddy, and in many respects much altered from what he was when he visited at Mr. Goodman's.
As our young ladies had not heard of this gentleman's return to England, it was natural for them, especially Miss Betsy, after what had passed between them, to be in some little surprize at the sudden sight of him; he was in some confusion too: but both parties had presence enough of mind to recover themselves, so as to salute as persons would do, who never had any thing more than an ordinary acquaintance with each other.
After the civilities common to people who thus meet by accident, Mr. Saving asked the ladies leave for himself and friends to join company; which being readily granted, they all walked up the Mall together; but the place being pretty full, were obliged to divide themselves, and walk in couples, or as it happened. During this promenade, Mr. Saving found an opportunity of saying to Miss Betsy, unheard by any of the others, 'Madam, I have something to acquaint you with, of great consequence to yourself: it is improper for me either to come or write to you at Mr. Goodman's, therefore wish you would appoint some place where I might speak with you.'
Miss Betsy was very much startled at his mentioning such a thing, and replied, 'No, Mr. Saving, I do not make a practice of consenting to assignations with men; nor have yet forgot that which I consented to with you.'—'I am very well able to clear myself of any fault on that score,' said he: 'but, Madam, to ease you of those apprehensions, which might, perhaps, make you think yourself obliged to keep me at a distance, it is proper to acquaint you, that I am married, and that it is only through a friendly regard for your honour and peace, that I would warn you against the perfidy of a pretended friend.' Perceiving she started at these words, and repeated them two or three times over, 'Yes, Madam,' resumed he; 'and if you will permit me to speak with you in a proper place, will bring with me an unquestionable proof of the truth of what I say.'
One of the ladies happening to turn back to say something to Miss Betsy, prevented him from adding farther; but what he had alreadyspoke, made a very deep impression on her mind. She could not conceive who the false friend should be that he had mentioned, unless it were Miss Flora; but though she had seen many instances of her insincerity, was not able to form any conjecture what she could have been guilty of to her, that Mr. Saving, who had been so long absent, could possibly be made acquainted with.
Thinking, however, that she ought not to deny herself the satisfaction of the eclaircissement he offered, especially as it was now to be given, not by a lover, but a friend, she sought and found a moment before they left the Mall, of saying to him without the notice of the company. 'Sir, I have considered on the hint you gave me; whatever concerns my honour, or my peace, must certainly merit my attention: I have an acquaintance in St. James's palace, whom I will visit as soon as dinner is over; if you walk a turn or two in the gallery leading to the Chapel Royal, you will see me pass that way between four and five o'clock.' To this Mr. Saving replied, that he would not fail to attend her there.
Miss Flora, who had been informed by Miss Betsy, after they had parted from Mr. Saving, that he was married, was full of the news when she came home: but Mr. Goodman, to whom the whole story of that affair had been related by the alderman, said, that the young gentleman had done very wisely, in complying with the commands of his father; and added, that the lady had a very agreeable person, a large fortune, and, above all, was extremely modest and discreet, so that there was no room to doubt his happiness. There was some farther discourse at table, concerning this new-wedded pair; but Miss Betsy took little part in it, as giving herself no pains for the interests of a person for whom she never had any thing but the most perfect indifference.
She was, notwithstanding, impatient enough for the account she expected to receive from him; and, without saying one word, either to Miss Flora, or any of the family, where she was going, went at the time prefixed to the place she had appointed to meet him.
Mr. Saving, to avoid being accused of want of punctuality in the affairs of friendship, as he had been in those of love, came somewhat before his time into the palace. As she ascended the great stairs, she saw him looking through one of the windows, waiting her approach; which greatly pleased her, as she would not have thought it proper to have walked there alone, nor would have been willing to have departed without the gratification of that curiosity his words hadexcited in her.
Excepting the time of divine service, and when the king, or any of the royal family go to chapel, few places are more retired than this gallery; none, besides the officers of the household passing on business into some of the apartments, scarce ever going into it; so that the choice Miss Betsy made, in her appointment with Mr. Saving, was extremely judicious.
As the business on which they met, was of a nature very different from love and gallantry, and time was precious to them both, they needed not many compliments to usher in what Mr. Saving had to say: he only, to excuse his behaviour to her, while he professed himself her lover, was beginning to relate the sudden manner in which he had been forced abroad; but she stopped him from going on, by telling him she had heard the whole story of that affair from Mr. Goodman, to whom the alderman had made no secret of it.
'I have only, then,' said he, 'to acquaint you, Madam, that soon after my arrival in Holland, looking over some papers that my father had put into my portmanteau for my instruction in the business I was sent to negociate, I found among them a letter, which, doubtless, in the hurry he was in, he had shuffled with the others through mistake, which, pray, Madam,' continued he, giving her a paper, 'be pleased to peruse, and tell me whether honour and justice did not oblige me to take the first opportunity of cautioning you against the baseness and malice of a person you might otherwise, perhaps, confide in, on matters of more consequence to your peace than any thing on my account could be.'
Miss Betsy had no sooner taken the paper, and looked on the superscription, which was to Alderman Saving, than she cried out, with great amazement, 'Bless me! this is Miss Flora's hand.'—'I think,' said Mr. Saving, 'that I might safely venture to affirm it upon oath, having often seen her writing; and have even some of it at this instant by me, in a song she copied for me, on my first acquaintance with her: but read, Madam,' pursued he, 'read the wicked scroll; and see the methods she took to prevail on a father to banish from his presence, and the kingdom, an only son, and to traduce that innocence and virtue, which she hated, because incapable of imitating.'
On this, Miss Betsy, trembling between a mixture of surprize and anger, hastily unfolded the letter, and found in it these lines, wrote in the same hand with the superscription.
'Sir,The real esteem I have for all persons of honesty and probity, obliges me to give you this seasonable warning of the greatest misfortune that can possibly befal a careful and a tender parent, as I know you are: but, not to keep you in suspense; your son, Sir, your only, your darling son! that son whom you have educated with so much tenderness, and who is so deservedly dear to you, is on the verge of ruin; his unhappy acquaintance with Mr. Goodman's family has subjected him to the artifices of a young girl, whose little affairs are in the hands of that gentleman. She is a great coquette, if I had said jilt too, I believe the injustice I should have done her character would not have been much; but as her share, either of fortune or reputation, is very small, I cannot condemn her for putting in practice all the strategems in her power of securing to herself a future settlement by marriage. I should, Sir, only be sorry that the lot should fall upon your son; as I know, and the world acknowledges, him to be a gentleman of much more promising expectations. It is, however, a thing I fear too near concluded; he loves her to distraction, will venture every thing for the gratification of his passion: she has a great deal of cunning, though little understanding in things more becoming of her sex; she is gay, vain, and passionately fond of gaming, and all the expensive diversions of the town. A shocking and most terrible composition for a wife! Yet such will she very speedily be made by the poor infatuated Mr. Saving, if you, Sir, in your paternal wisdom, do not find some way to put a stop to his intentions. The original of the picture I have been representing, is called Miss Betsy Thoughtless, a name well known among the gallant part of the town. I hope you will take the above intelligence in good part, as it is meant, with the greatest sincerity, and attachments to your interests, by, Sir, your most humble, but unknown servant,A. Z.P.S. Sir, your son is every day at Mr. Goodman's; and if you will take the trouble to set a watch over him, or send any person to enquire in the neighbourhood, it will be easy for you to satisfy yourself in the truth of what I have related.'
'Sir,
The real esteem I have for all persons of honesty and probity, obliges me to give you this seasonable warning of the greatest misfortune that can possibly befal a careful and a tender parent, as I know you are: but, not to keep you in suspense; your son, Sir, your only, your darling son! that son whom you have educated with so much tenderness, and who is so deservedly dear to you, is on the verge of ruin; his unhappy acquaintance with Mr. Goodman's family has subjected him to the artifices of a young girl, whose little affairs are in the hands of that gentleman. She is a great coquette, if I had said jilt too, I believe the injustice I should have done her character would not have been much; but as her share, either of fortune or reputation, is very small, I cannot condemn her for putting in practice all the strategems in her power of securing to herself a future settlement by marriage. I should, Sir, only be sorry that the lot should fall upon your son; as I know, and the world acknowledges, him to be a gentleman of much more promising expectations. It is, however, a thing I fear too near concluded; he loves her to distraction, will venture every thing for the gratification of his passion: she has a great deal of cunning, though little understanding in things more becoming of her sex; she is gay, vain, and passionately fond of gaming, and all the expensive diversions of the town. A shocking and most terrible composition for a wife! Yet such will she very speedily be made by the poor infatuated Mr. Saving, if you, Sir, in your paternal wisdom, do not find some way to put a stop to his intentions. The original of the picture I have been representing, is called Miss Betsy Thoughtless, a name well known among the gallant part of the town. I hope you will take the above intelligence in good part, as it is meant, with the greatest sincerity, and attachments to your interests, by, Sir, your most humble, but unknown servant,
A. Z.
P.S. Sir, your son is every day at Mr. Goodman's; and if you will take the trouble to set a watch over him, or send any person to enquire in the neighbourhood, it will be easy for you to satisfy yourself in the truth of what I have related.'
The consternation Miss Betsy was in on reading this cruel invective, was such as for some moments deprived her of the power of speaking. Mr. Saving could neither wonder at, nor blame, so just aresentment; yet, to mitigate it in part, he confessed to her a secret, which, till then, she had been wholly ignorant of.
'Though nothing, Madam,' said he, 'can excuse the crime she has been guilty of towards you, yet permit me to acquaint you, that the malice is chiefly levelled against me; and you are only wounded through my sides.'
'How can that be?' cried she. 'She does justice to your character, while she defames mine in the most barbarous manner.'—'Mere artifice, Madam,' answered he, 'to work my father to her purpose, as I will presently convince you.'
He then told her, that before he ever had the honour of seeing her, he had treated Miss Flora with some gallantries; 'Which,' said he, 'her vanity made her take as the addresses of a serious passion, till those she found I afterwards made to you convinced her to the contrary. This Madam,' continued he, 'I am well assured of by her laying hold of every opportunity to reproach my inconstancy, as she has termed it. Finding how little I regarded all she said to me on that score, and still persisted in my devoirs to you, she doubtless had recourse to this most wicked strategem to cut me off from all hope, even though it had been in my power to have inclined you to favour my suit.'
Miss Betsy found this supposition so reasonable, and so conformable to the temper of Miss Flora, that she agreed with Mr. Saving in it. She did not now wonder at her wishing to be revenged on him; but could not brook with patience the method she took for being so: and said, that if Mr. Goodman did not do her justice on the author of so infamous a libel, she would immediately quit the house, and chuse another guardian.
'Hold, Madam,' said he; 'I must intreat you will give me leave to remind you of the consequences that may possibly attend your taking such a step. I own, with you, that treachery and calumny, such as hers, cannot be too severely exposed and punished: but, Madam, consider, that in order to do this, the accident which brought the letter into my possession, and the opportunity you have allowed me of presenting it to you, must be made known; the latter of which, you may be confident, she would not fail to make such representations of, as would not only hurt me, both with my father and my wife, but also furnish the malicious world, too apt to judge by appearances, with some pretence for casting a blemish on your own reputation.'
These remonstrances has some part of the effect they wereintended for on the mind of Miss Betsy; yet, having an aversion to dissimulation, and not knowing whether she could be able to conceal either her resentment, or the cause of it, she cried out hastily, without considering what she said, 'Why, then, did you let me know the injury done me, since it is improper for me to do any thing that might extort a reparation?'
'I could not, Madam,' replied he, 'behold you harbouring a snake in your bosom, without warning you of the sting. I am certain the easing you of my troublesome addresses has been no cause of mortification; and it was not that you should revenge what she has already done, but to put you upon your guard against any thing she may hereafter attempt to do, that I resolved to take the first opportunity of letting you see what she was capable of.'
Miss Betsy was by this time fully persuaded by his arguments; but could not forbear complaining of the difficulties it would be to her to look, or speak civilly, to sleep in the same bed, or behave in any respect as she had been accustomed, towards so unworthy a creature. She thanked him, however, for his good intentions to her; and, before they parted, promised to follow his advice, if it were only, as she said, from the consideration that to act in a different manner might be a prejudice to his domestick peace.
Miss Betsy, after having taken leave of Mr. Saving, went to the apartment of her friend; where she staid supper, not because she was at that time capable of being entertained either with the elegancies of the table, or the company, which happened to be pretty numerous, but merely to amuse and recover herself from the shock which the late discovery of Miss Flora's infidelity had given her.
On her coming home, she found the family not yet gone to bed, though it was then near one o'clock. Mr. Goodman was in high good-humour; and said to her, 'Miss Betsy, you have lost some hours of contentment by being abroad. Mr. Trueworth has been here, and did us the favour to pass the whole evening with us: but that is not all; three letters have been left for you. Two of them came by the post, and are, I know, by the superscriptions, from Mr. Francis Thoughtless and Lady Trusty; the other, I am informed, was left for you by a porter: but your curiosity must wait for these—I have still better news for you. Your eldest brother, Mr. Thomas Thoughtless, is coming home: I have received a letter from him, which tells me he has finished his tour, and we shall soon have him among us. See,' continued he, 'what he says.'
In speaking these words, he took the letter out of his pocket, and gave her to read. It contained these lines.
'To Mr. Goodman.Worthy Sir,I have been for upwards of a month detained on a party of pleasure,at the chateau of Monsieur le Marquis de St. Amand; so was not so happy to receive yours of the seventh and twenty-second instant till yesterday, when I returned to Paris. I thank you for the long and particular account you give me of those affairs which are entrusted to your care. As to what you tell me concerning my brother Frank's having left the university, I am not sorry for it; nor can at all wonder, that a young fellow of his metal should be willing to exchange the hopes of a mitre for a truncheon. I have not heard from him since I left Florence; but believe it is owing to his want of knowing where to direct to me, my stages afterwards having been pretty uncertain: but finding by yours that he is now with Sir Ralph Trusty, shall accompany a letter I am obliged to send to that gentleman with one to him. I forgive my sister's not writing when you did, as you give me some hints she is likely soon to become a bride; a matter, I confess, sufficient to engross the whole thoughts of a young lady. Be pleased to assure her of my good wishes in this, and all other events. As you say she has two very advantageous offers, I flatter myself, through your good advice and inspection, she will take the best.In my last, I mentioned somewhat of a design I had to pass a few months in the southern parts of this kingdom; but I have since changed my mind, and am determined on returning to my native country with all possible expedition. I believe you may expect me in three or four weeks at farthest. If, Sir, you could within that time hear of a house, agreeably situated, for my use, I should esteem it as a considerable addition to the favours our family, and myself in particular, have received from you since the death of our dear father. I should approve of St. James's Square, if rents are not too exorbitant; for, in that case, a house in any of the adjoining streets must content me. I would not willingly exceed an hundred, or an hundred and ten pounds, per annum; but would be as near the Park and Palace as possible.I kiss Lady Mellasin's and her fair daughter's hands; and am, with very great respect, Sir, your most obliged, and most obedient servant,T. Thoughtless.'
'To Mr. Goodman.
Worthy Sir,
I have been for upwards of a month detained on a party of pleasure,at the chateau of Monsieur le Marquis de St. Amand; so was not so happy to receive yours of the seventh and twenty-second instant till yesterday, when I returned to Paris. I thank you for the long and particular account you give me of those affairs which are entrusted to your care. As to what you tell me concerning my brother Frank's having left the university, I am not sorry for it; nor can at all wonder, that a young fellow of his metal should be willing to exchange the hopes of a mitre for a truncheon. I have not heard from him since I left Florence; but believe it is owing to his want of knowing where to direct to me, my stages afterwards having been pretty uncertain: but finding by yours that he is now with Sir Ralph Trusty, shall accompany a letter I am obliged to send to that gentleman with one to him. I forgive my sister's not writing when you did, as you give me some hints she is likely soon to become a bride; a matter, I confess, sufficient to engross the whole thoughts of a young lady. Be pleased to assure her of my good wishes in this, and all other events. As you say she has two very advantageous offers, I flatter myself, through your good advice and inspection, she will take the best.
In my last, I mentioned somewhat of a design I had to pass a few months in the southern parts of this kingdom; but I have since changed my mind, and am determined on returning to my native country with all possible expedition. I believe you may expect me in three or four weeks at farthest. If, Sir, you could within that time hear of a house, agreeably situated, for my use, I should esteem it as a considerable addition to the favours our family, and myself in particular, have received from you since the death of our dear father. I should approve of St. James's Square, if rents are not too exorbitant; for, in that case, a house in any of the adjoining streets must content me. I would not willingly exceed an hundred, or an hundred and ten pounds, per annum; but would be as near the Park and Palace as possible.
I kiss Lady Mellasin's and her fair daughter's hands; and am, with very great respect, Sir, your most obliged, and most obedient servant,
T. Thoughtless.'
Miss Betsy was very glad to find a brother, who had now been near five years abroad, was at last coming home, and much more so, that he intended to set up housekeeping in London; because, as doubting not he would be pleased to have her with him, she should have a fairpretence for quitting Mr. Goodman's house, and the society of Miss Flora, who had now rendered herself so irksome to her.
This did not hinder her, however, from reproaching Mr. Goodman for having mentioned to her brother any thing in relation to her lovers. 'You see, Sir,' said she, 'that the one of them has already abandoned me; and you will also see, in a short time, that the other will be little the better for his rival's resignation.'
To this Mr. Goodman pleasantly replied, that whatever she pretended at present, he believed better things from her good-sense, and the merits of Mr. Trueworth: to which Miss Betsy, unwilling to prolong the conversation, only told him he would find himself mistaken; and ran hastily up stairs, to examine the contents of those letters which, she had heard, lay on her toilette, ready for her perusal. The first she broke open was from Miss Forward; knowing it to be hers by the hand, and eager to see the event of a fate, which, by the history she had given her, had appeared so doubtful.
'To Miss Betsy Thoughtless.Dear Miss Betsy,Since I saw you I have been driven to the last despair. The kind supply you left with me was quite exhausted; and I must infallibly have perished, through want of the common necessaries of life, and the cruel usage of my mercenary landlady, if my poor aunt in the country had not sent me a little present, which, for a small space of time, afforded relief; but accompanied with the melancholy account that my father was inexorable to her persuasions, would not hear of my return to L——e, and vowed never to see me more, or own me for his child. Soon was I again reduced to the lowest ebb of misery; had scarce sufficient to furnish the provisions of another day, and was even threatened to be turned out of doors by the inhuman hag; who, I very well remember, you said had her soul pictured in her countenance. But, my dear friend, in the midst of this distress, and when I thought no human help was near, my affairs took a most sudden and unexpected turn. Fortune threw in my way a kinsman of my mother's, whom I had never seen, or even heard of before: he compassionated my calamitous condition, removed me from that distant place, allows me a handsome maintenance, and has promised to continue it, till nature, and the endeavours of my good aunt, shall work my father to a more gentle temper.I long to see you, and would have waited on you to return themoney you were so kind to lend me; but knew not whether it were proper for me to do so, as I am wholly unacquainted with the family where you are. A visit from you would, therefore, now be doubly agreeable, as I am lodged in a house less unworthy to receive you, than that wretched one to which I before took the liberty to make you an invitation.You may find me now at Mr. Screener's, the very next door to the Bedford Head, in Tavistock Street, in Covent Garden; where, I flatter myself, your good-nature will soon bring you to her, who is impatient for that happiness, and will always be, dear Miss Betsy, your very affectionate, and most humble servant,A. Forward.P.S. I had forgot to tell you that I am every Friday engaged at my above-mentioned good cousin's; and should never have forgiven myself, if, by this omission, you had lost your labour, and I the pleasure of your company.'
'To Miss Betsy Thoughtless.
Dear Miss Betsy,
Since I saw you I have been driven to the last despair. The kind supply you left with me was quite exhausted; and I must infallibly have perished, through want of the common necessaries of life, and the cruel usage of my mercenary landlady, if my poor aunt in the country had not sent me a little present, which, for a small space of time, afforded relief; but accompanied with the melancholy account that my father was inexorable to her persuasions, would not hear of my return to L——e, and vowed never to see me more, or own me for his child. Soon was I again reduced to the lowest ebb of misery; had scarce sufficient to furnish the provisions of another day, and was even threatened to be turned out of doors by the inhuman hag; who, I very well remember, you said had her soul pictured in her countenance. But, my dear friend, in the midst of this distress, and when I thought no human help was near, my affairs took a most sudden and unexpected turn. Fortune threw in my way a kinsman of my mother's, whom I had never seen, or even heard of before: he compassionated my calamitous condition, removed me from that distant place, allows me a handsome maintenance, and has promised to continue it, till nature, and the endeavours of my good aunt, shall work my father to a more gentle temper.
I long to see you, and would have waited on you to return themoney you were so kind to lend me; but knew not whether it were proper for me to do so, as I am wholly unacquainted with the family where you are. A visit from you would, therefore, now be doubly agreeable, as I am lodged in a house less unworthy to receive you, than that wretched one to which I before took the liberty to make you an invitation.
You may find me now at Mr. Screener's, the very next door to the Bedford Head, in Tavistock Street, in Covent Garden; where, I flatter myself, your good-nature will soon bring you to her, who is impatient for that happiness, and will always be, dear Miss Betsy, your very affectionate, and most humble servant,
A. Forward.
P.S. I had forgot to tell you that I am every Friday engaged at my above-mentioned good cousin's; and should never have forgiven myself, if, by this omission, you had lost your labour, and I the pleasure of your company.'
Miss Betsy, who little doubted the sincerity of this epistle, was very much touched with it, and resolved to comply with the invitation it contained in a short time. She now began to grow pretty sleepy; and would probably have deferred the persual of the other two letters till next morning, if Miss Flora had not come up to go to bed. To avoid, therefore, entering into any conversation with her, she took up the first that came to hand, and found the contents as follows.
'To Miss Betsy Thoughtless.My dear sister,As Mr. Goodman's endeavours for procuring me a commission, have not yet been attended with the desired success, I have been prevailed upon, by the solicitations of my friends, to give them my promise of passing some part of the hunting season in L——e; so shall not see you so soon as my last might make you expect. But I will not dissemble so far as to tell you, that to give you this information is the chief motive of my writing to you at present. No, my dear Betsy! it is one of much more consequence that now directs my pen. It is to give you such remonstrances, as, I fear, you stand but in too much need of; to beware how you disregard the smiles of fortune, and become the enemy of your own happiness. I received a letter yesterday from Mr. Trueworth; he complains sadly of my staying in the country, and seems to think my presence necessary for the advancement of hiscourtship to you. I shall be always glad to be obliged by you on any score; but extremely sorry to find my interests with you, as a brother, should have more effect on you than your own reason, and the merits of one of the most deserving men on earth. I have no pretence to claim any authority over you by the ties of blood; but may certainly flatter myself with having some influence over you as a friend—enough, at least, I hope, to prevail on you to consider seriously on this matter; and am persuaded, that if you once bring yourself to do so, Mr. Trueworth will want no other advocate to plead his cause than your own understanding. I am willing to believe the assurance you gave me in your last, of your heart being free from any impressions yet endeavoured to be made upon it: did I think otherwise, I should be entirely silent on this occasion. I would be far, my dear sister, from opposing your inclinations; I would only wish to direct them where there is a prospect of the most felicity. Let me conjure you, therefore, to open your unprejudiced eyes, nor be wilfully blind to the good intended for you by your better stars. As you can never expect proposals of more advantage than those the love of Mr. Trueworth has inclined him to make you, I may be pretty confident, that you have not a friend in the world who would not highly condemn your want of giving due attention to it. Forgive the warmth with which I express myself, as it springs from the sincerest zeal for the establishment of your interest and happiness, than which nothing is more at the heart of him, who is, with the most tender regard, dear sister, your very affectionate friend, and brother,F. Thoughtless.'
'To Miss Betsy Thoughtless.
My dear sister,
As Mr. Goodman's endeavours for procuring me a commission, have not yet been attended with the desired success, I have been prevailed upon, by the solicitations of my friends, to give them my promise of passing some part of the hunting season in L——e; so shall not see you so soon as my last might make you expect. But I will not dissemble so far as to tell you, that to give you this information is the chief motive of my writing to you at present. No, my dear Betsy! it is one of much more consequence that now directs my pen. It is to give you such remonstrances, as, I fear, you stand but in too much need of; to beware how you disregard the smiles of fortune, and become the enemy of your own happiness. I received a letter yesterday from Mr. Trueworth; he complains sadly of my staying in the country, and seems to think my presence necessary for the advancement of hiscourtship to you. I shall be always glad to be obliged by you on any score; but extremely sorry to find my interests with you, as a brother, should have more effect on you than your own reason, and the merits of one of the most deserving men on earth. I have no pretence to claim any authority over you by the ties of blood; but may certainly flatter myself with having some influence over you as a friend—enough, at least, I hope, to prevail on you to consider seriously on this matter; and am persuaded, that if you once bring yourself to do so, Mr. Trueworth will want no other advocate to plead his cause than your own understanding. I am willing to believe the assurance you gave me in your last, of your heart being free from any impressions yet endeavoured to be made upon it: did I think otherwise, I should be entirely silent on this occasion. I would be far, my dear sister, from opposing your inclinations; I would only wish to direct them where there is a prospect of the most felicity. Let me conjure you, therefore, to open your unprejudiced eyes, nor be wilfully blind to the good intended for you by your better stars. As you can never expect proposals of more advantage than those the love of Mr. Trueworth has inclined him to make you, I may be pretty confident, that you have not a friend in the world who would not highly condemn your want of giving due attention to it. Forgive the warmth with which I express myself, as it springs from the sincerest zeal for the establishment of your interest and happiness, than which nothing is more at the heart of him, who is, with the most tender regard, dear sister, your very affectionate friend, and brother,
F. Thoughtless.'
While Miss Betsy was reading these letters, Miss Flora, who immediately followed her into the chamber, would fain have interrupted her by one impertinent question or another: but receiving no answer to any thing she said, gave over speaking, and went directly to bed; and Miss Betsy breaking open the third and last letter she had to peruse, found it contained as follows.
'To Miss Betsy Thoughtless.My dear Miss Betsy,I had wrote to you before, if I had not been prevented by an inflammation in my eyes, which, for some time past, has rendered my pen of no use to me; and I did not chuse to employ an amanuensis in what I have to say to you; but now take the first opportunity, beingsomewhat better, of giving you that advice, which, it may be reasonably supposed, a person of your years and experience of the world may stand in need of; or, if not so, will be of some service in corroborating the good sentiments you are already inspired with.It was with an extreme concern I heard what happened on your account at Oxford; and hope you have so well reflected on the danger you were in, the consequences that attended it, and how much worse might probably have ensued, as to be ever since more circumspect and careful with what company you trust yourself. I am far from reproaching you with the effects of an accident altogether unforeseen, and impossible to be even guessed at by you; but would beg you to keep always in your mind, that what has been, may, some time or other, be again; and that repeated inadvertencies may make Heaven weary of continuing it's protection. But, my dear Miss Betsy, it is not in my apprehensions of your own conduct, that the greatest part of my fear for you consists: the world, alas! and more particularly the place you live in, affords but too many wretches, of both sexes, who make it their business to entrap unwary innocence; and the most fair pretences are often the cover to the most foul designs! There are so many daily instances of the strictest caution not being always a sufficient security against the snares laid for our destruction, that I look on it as half a miracle, when a young woman, handsome, and exposed as you are, escapes unprejudiced, either in her virtue or reputation. Consider, my dear child, you who have no tender mother, whose precepts and example might keep you steady in the paths of prudence: no father, whose authority might awe the daring libertine from any injurious attack; and are but too much mistress of yourself. In fine, thus environed with temptations, I see no real defence for you but in a good husband. I have ever condemned rushing too early into marriage, and of risking, for the sake of one convenience, the want, perhaps, of a thousand others; but when an offer happens to be made, equally honourable and advantageous, and which affords an almost assured prospect of every thing necessary to compleat the happiness of that state, it cannot be too soon in life accepted. I hear, with pleasure, that an offer, such as I have been describing, is now presented to you; and it would give me an adequate concern to hear that you had rejected it. I need not tell you I mean Mr. Trueworth; for though there be many others who make their addresses to you on the same score, yet I am entirely ignorant of every thing relating to them; but I am well assured, not only by your brother's testimony, butby several gentlemen of this county, that in the fortune, person, and amiable qualities, of that gentleman, are comprized all that you either can or ought to wish in a husband. Trifle not, then, with a heart so deserving of you; scruple not to become a wife, when merit, such as his, invites, and so many reasons concur to urge you to consent. Believe me, there is more true felicity in the sincere and tender friendship of one man of honour, than in all the flattering pretensions of a thousand coxcombs. I have much more to say to you on this head; but shall defer, till you let me know with what kind of sentiments it is that you regard the gentleman I have been speaking of; which I beg you will do without disguise. Be satisfied that the secret of your real inclinations will be as safe in my keeping as your own; and that I am, with the most perfect amity, my dear Miss Betsy, your constant friend, and humble servant,M. Trusty.'
'To Miss Betsy Thoughtless.
My dear Miss Betsy,
I had wrote to you before, if I had not been prevented by an inflammation in my eyes, which, for some time past, has rendered my pen of no use to me; and I did not chuse to employ an amanuensis in what I have to say to you; but now take the first opportunity, beingsomewhat better, of giving you that advice, which, it may be reasonably supposed, a person of your years and experience of the world may stand in need of; or, if not so, will be of some service in corroborating the good sentiments you are already inspired with.
It was with an extreme concern I heard what happened on your account at Oxford; and hope you have so well reflected on the danger you were in, the consequences that attended it, and how much worse might probably have ensued, as to be ever since more circumspect and careful with what company you trust yourself. I am far from reproaching you with the effects of an accident altogether unforeseen, and impossible to be even guessed at by you; but would beg you to keep always in your mind, that what has been, may, some time or other, be again; and that repeated inadvertencies may make Heaven weary of continuing it's protection. But, my dear Miss Betsy, it is not in my apprehensions of your own conduct, that the greatest part of my fear for you consists: the world, alas! and more particularly the place you live in, affords but too many wretches, of both sexes, who make it their business to entrap unwary innocence; and the most fair pretences are often the cover to the most foul designs! There are so many daily instances of the strictest caution not being always a sufficient security against the snares laid for our destruction, that I look on it as half a miracle, when a young woman, handsome, and exposed as you are, escapes unprejudiced, either in her virtue or reputation. Consider, my dear child, you who have no tender mother, whose precepts and example might keep you steady in the paths of prudence: no father, whose authority might awe the daring libertine from any injurious attack; and are but too much mistress of yourself. In fine, thus environed with temptations, I see no real defence for you but in a good husband. I have ever condemned rushing too early into marriage, and of risking, for the sake of one convenience, the want, perhaps, of a thousand others; but when an offer happens to be made, equally honourable and advantageous, and which affords an almost assured prospect of every thing necessary to compleat the happiness of that state, it cannot be too soon in life accepted. I hear, with pleasure, that an offer, such as I have been describing, is now presented to you; and it would give me an adequate concern to hear that you had rejected it. I need not tell you I mean Mr. Trueworth; for though there be many others who make their addresses to you on the same score, yet I am entirely ignorant of every thing relating to them; but I am well assured, not only by your brother's testimony, butby several gentlemen of this county, that in the fortune, person, and amiable qualities, of that gentleman, are comprized all that you either can or ought to wish in a husband. Trifle not, then, with a heart so deserving of you; scruple not to become a wife, when merit, such as his, invites, and so many reasons concur to urge you to consent. Believe me, there is more true felicity in the sincere and tender friendship of one man of honour, than in all the flattering pretensions of a thousand coxcombs. I have much more to say to you on this head; but shall defer, till you let me know with what kind of sentiments it is that you regard the gentleman I have been speaking of; which I beg you will do without disguise. Be satisfied that the secret of your real inclinations will be as safe in my keeping as your own; and that I am, with the most perfect amity, my dear Miss Betsy, your constant friend, and humble servant,
M. Trusty.'
The time of night did not permit Miss Betsy to give these letters all the attention which the writers of them, doubtless, desired she should do; but she locked them carefully in her cabinet, resolving to consider the purport of them more seriously before she returned any answer.