We have had a great debate about the place in which the nuptial ceremony is to be performed.
Charlotte, the perverse Charlotte, insisted upon not going to church.
Lord G—— dared not to give his opinion; though his father and LadyGertrude, as well as every other person, were against her.
Lord L—— said, that if fine ladies thought so slightly of the office, as that it might be performed anywhere, it would be no wonder, if fine gentlemen thought still more slightly of the obligation it laid them under.
Being appealed to, I said, that I thought of marriage as one of the most solemn acts of a woman's life.
And if of a woman's, of a man's, surely, interrupted Lady L——. If your whimsey, Charlotte, added she, arises from modesty, you reflect upon your sister; and, what is worse, upon your mother.
Charlotte put up her pretty lip, and was unconvinced.
Lady Gertrude laid a heavy hand upon the affectation; yet admires her niece-elect. She distinguished between chamber-vows and church-vows. She mentioned the word decency. She spoke plainer, on Charlotte's unfeeling perverseness. If a bride meant a compliment by it to the bridegroom, that was another thing; but then let her declare as much; and that she was in an hurry to oblige him.
Charlotte attempted to kill her by a look—She gave a worse to Lord G——. And why, whispered she to him, as he sat next her, must thou shew all thy teeth, man?—As Lady Gertrude meant to shame her, I thought I could as soon forgive that lady, as her who was the occasion of the freedom of speech.
But still she was perverse: she would not be married at all, she said, if she were not complied with.
I whispered her, as I sat on the other side of her, I wish, Charlotte, the knot were tied: till then, you will not do even right things, but in a wrong manner.
Dr. Bartlett was not present: he was making a kind visit to my cousins Reeves. When he came in, the debate was referred to him. He entered into it with her, with so much modesty, good sense, propriety, and steadiness, that at last the perverse creature gave way: but hardly would neither, had he not assured her, that her brother would be entirely against her; and that he himself must be excused performing the sacred office, but in a sacred place. She has set her heart on the doctor's marrying her.
The Earl of G—— and Lady Gertrude, as also Lord and Lady L——, went away, not dissatisfied with Charlotte's compliance: she is the most ungraciously graceful young woman I ever knew in her compliances. But Lord G—— was to pay for all: she and I had got together in the study: in bolted Lord G——, perhaps with too little ceremony. She coloured— Hey-day, sir! Who expected you? His countenance immediately fell. He withdrew precipitately. Fie, Charlotte! said I, recollect yourself—and rising, stept to the door, My lord—calling after him.
He came back; but in a little ferment—I hoped, I hoped, madam, as you were not in your own apartment, that I might, that I might have been—
Wherever ladies are by themselves, it is a lady's apartment, my lord, said she, with a haughtiness that sat better on her features, than they would upon almost any other woman's.
He looked, as if he knew not whether he should stay or go. Sit down, my lord, said I; we are not particularly engaged. He came nearer, his hat under his arm, bowing to her, who sat as stately as a princess on her throne: but yet looked disobliged. You give yourself pretty airs, my lord—don't you?
Pretty airs, madam!—Pretty airs!—By my soul, I think, madam—And with such a glow in your face, madam—Taking his laced hat from under his arm, and, with an earnest motion, swinging it backwards and forwards, as unknowing what he did—
What, sir, am I to be buffetted, sir?—
He put his hat under his arm again—Buffetted, madam!—Would toHeaven—
What has Heaven to do with your odd ways, Lord G——?
I beg pardon for intruding, madam—But I thought—
That you had a privilege, sir—But marriage itself, sir, shall not give you a privilege to break into my retirements. You thought, sir—You could not think—So much the worse if you did—
If I have really offended—I will be more circumspect for the future—I beg pardon, madam—Miss Byron, I hope, will forgive me too.
He was going, in great discomposure, and with an air of angry humility.
Charlotte, whispered I, don't be silly—
Come, come, now you have broke in upon us, you may stay—But another time, when you know me to be retired with a friend so dear to me, let it enter into your head, that no third person, unsent for, can be welcome.
Poor man!—How he loves her!—His countenance changed at once to the humble placid: he looked as if he had rather be in fault than she.
Oh! how little did she make him look!
But he has often, as well as in this instance, let her see her power over him. I am afraid she will use it. I now see it is and will be his misfortune that she can vex him without being vexed herself: and what may he expect, who can be treated with feigned displeasure, which, while it seems to be in earnest to him, will be a jest to his wife?
I was very angry with her, when we were alone; and told her, that she would be an enemy, I was afraid, of her own happiness. But she only laughed at me: Happiness, my dear! said she: that only is happiness which we think so. If I can be as happy in my way, as you can be in yours, shall I not pursue it? Your happiness, child, is in the still life. I love not a dead calm: now a tempest, now a refreshing breeze, I shall know how to enjoy the difference—My brother will not be here to turn jest into earnest; as might perhaps be the effect of his mediation—But, heigh-ho, Harriet! that the first week were over, and I had got into my throne!
She ended with an Italian air, contrasted with another heigh-ho; and left me for a few moments.
Poor Lord G——! said I, looking after her.
She returned soon. Poor Lord G——! repeated she: those were the piteous words you threw after me—But if I should provoke him, do you think he would not give me a cuff, or so?—You know he can't return joke for joke; and he must revenge himself some way—If that should be the case, Poor Charlotte, I hope you would say—
Not if you deserved it.
Deserve a cuff, Harriet!—Well, but I am afraid I shall.
Remember next Tuesday, Charlotte!—You must vow obedience—Will you break your vow?—This is not a jesting matter.
True, Harriet. And that it is not, was perhaps one of the reasons that made me disinclined to go to so solemn a place as the church with Lord G——. Don't you think it one with those who insist upon being married in their own chamber?
I believe great people, said I, think they must not do right things in the common way: that seems to me to be one of their fantastic reasons: but the vow is the vow, Charlotte: God is every where.
Now you are so serious, Harriet, it is time to have done with the subject.
I have no sleep in my eyes; and must go on. What keeps me more wakeful is, my real concern for this naughty Miss Grandison, and my pity for Lord G——; for the instance I have given you of her petulance is nothing to what I have seen: but I thought, so near the day, she would have changed her behaviour to him. Surely, the situation her brother is in, without any fault of his own, might convince her, that she need not go out of her path to pick up subjects for unhappiness.
Such a kittenish disposition in her, I called it; for it is not so much the love of power that predominates in her mind, as the love of playfulness: and when the fit is upon her, she regards not whether it is a china cup, or a cork, that she pats and tosses about. But her sport will certainly be the death of Lord G——'s happiness. Pity that Sir Charles, who only has power over her, is obliged to go abroad so soon! But she has principles: Lady Grandison's daughter, Sir Charles Grandison's sister, must have principles. The solemnity of the occasion; the office; the church; the altar;—must strike her: The vow—Will she not regard the vow she makes in circumstances so awful? Could but my Lord G—— assume dignity, and mingle raillery with it, and be able to laugh with her, and sometimes at her, she would not make him her sport: she would find somebody else: A butt she must have to shoot at: but I am afraid he will be too sensible of her smartness: and she will have her jest, let who will suffer by it.
Some of the contents of your last are very agreeable to me, Lucy. I will begin in earnest to think of leaving London. Don't let me look silly in your eyes, my dear, when I come. It was not so very presumptuous in me (was it?) to hope—When all his relations—When he himself—Yet what room for hope did he, could he, give me? He was honest; and I cheated myself: but then all you, my dearest friends, encouraged the cheat: nay, pointed my wishes, and my hopes, by yours, before I had dared (shall I say, or condescended?) to own them to myself.
You may let that Greville know, if you please, that there is no room for his If's, nor, of consequence, any for his menaces. You may own, that I shall soon be in Northamptonshire. This may prevent his and Fenwick's threatened journey to town.
But, Lucy, though my heart has been ever dutifully, as I may say, open to the venerable domestic circle; though it would not have been an honest heart, could it, circumstanced as I was, have concealed itself from Lady D——; and must have been an impenetrable one indeed, if it could have been disguised to the two sisters here—yet, I beseech you, my dear, almost on my knees I beseech you, let not the audacious, the insulting Greville, have ground given him to suspect a weakness in your Harriet, which indelicate minds know not how to judge of delicately. For sex-sake, for example-sake, Lucy, let it not be known, to any but the partial, friendly few, that our grand-mamma Shirley's child, and aunt Selby's niece, has been a volunteer in her affections. How many still more forward girls would plead Mrs. Shirley's approbation of the hasty affection, without considering the circumstances, and the object! So the next girl that run away to a dancing-master, or an ensign, would reckon herself one of Harriet's school.
Poor Mr. Orme! I am sorry he is not well. It is cruel in you, Lucy, at this time, to say, (so undoubtingly,) that his illness is owing to his love of me. You knew that such a suggestion would pain me. Heaven restore Mr. Orme!
But I am vexed, as it cannot be to purpose, that Sir Charles Grandison and I have been named together, and talked of, in your neighbourhood!—He will be gone abroad. I shall return to Northamptonshire: and shall look so silly! So like a refused girl!
'Every body gives me to him, you say'—So much the worse. I wonder what business this every body has to trouble itself about me.
One consolation, however, I shall have in my return; and that is, in myNancy's recovered health; which was so precarious when I set out forLondon.
But I shall have nothing to entertain you with when I am with you: Sir Charles Grandison, Lord and Lady L——, Lady G——, (as now in three or four days she will be), my dear Miss Jervois, Dr. Bartlett, will be all my subject. And have I not exhausted that by pen and ink? O no! The doctor promises to correspond with me; and he makes no doubt but Sir Charles will correspond with him, as usual.
What can the unusually tender friendship be called which he professed for me, and, as I may say, claimed in return from me? I know that he has no notion of the love called Platonic. Nor have I: I think it, in general, a dangerous allowance; and, with regard to our sex, a very unequal one; since, while the man has nothing to fear, the woman has every thing, from the privileges that may be claimed, in an acknowledged confidence, especially in presence. Miss Grandison thus interprets what he said, and strengthens her opinion by some of Dr. Bartlett's late intimations, that he really loves me; but not being at liberty to avow his love, he knew not what to say; and so went as near to a declaration as was possible to do in his circumstances.
But might I not expect, from such a profession of friendship in Sir Charles, an offer of correspondence in absence? And if he made the offer, ought I to decline it? Would it not indicate too much on my side, were I to do so?—And does it not on his, if he make not the offer? He corresponds with Mrs. Beaumont: nobody thinks that any thing can be meant by that correspondence on either side; because Mrs. Beaumont must be at least forty; Sir Charles but six or seven and twenty: but if he makes not the request to Harriet, who is but little more than twenty; what, after such professions of a friendship so tender, will be inferred from his forbearance?
But I shall puzzle myself, and you too, Lucy, if I go on with this sort of reasoning; because I shall not know how to put all I mean into words. Have I not already puzzled you? I think my expression is weak and perplexed—But this offered and accepted friendship between two persons not indelicate, must be perplexing; since he is the only young man in the world, from whom a woman has no dishonour to fear.—Ah, Lucy!—It would be vanity in me, would it not? to suppose that he had more to fear from Harriet, than she has from him; as the virtue of either, I hope, is not questionable? But the event of his Italian visit will explain and reconcile every thing.
I will encourage a drowsy fit that seems to be stealing upon me. If I have not written with the perspicuity I always aim at, allow, Lucy, for the time of night; for spirits not high; and for the subject, that having its delicacies, as well as uncertainties, I am not able to write clearly upon it.
Sir Charles is already returned: he arrived at Windsor on Friday morning; but found that Lord W—— had set out the afternoon of the day before, for the house of his friend Sir Joseph Lawrence, which is but fifteen miles from Mansfield-house.
Upon this intelligence, Sir Charles, wanting to return to town as soon as he could, followed him to the knight's: and having time enough himself to reach Mansfield-house that night, he, by his uncle's consent, pursued his journey thither; to the great joy of the family; who wished for his personal introduction of my lord to Miss Mansfield.
My lord arrived by breakfast-time, unfatigued, and in high spirits: staid at Mansfield-house all day; and promised so to manage, as to be in town to-morrow, in order to be present at his niece's nuptials on Tuesday.
As for Sir Charles, he made the Mansfield family happy in his company the whole Friday evening; inquiring into their affairs relating to the oppression they lay under; pointing out measures for redress; encouraging Miss Mansfield; and informing the brothers, that the lawyers he had consulted on their deeds, told him, that a new trial might be hoped for; the result of which, probably, would be a means to do them justice, so powerfully protected and assisted as they would now be; for new lights had broke in upon them, and they wanted but to recover a deed, which they understood was in the hands of two gentlemen, named Hartley, who were but lately returned from the Indies. Thus prepared, the Mansfields also were in high spirits, the next morning; and looked, Sir Charles said, on each other, when they met, as if they wanted to tell each other their agreeable dreams.
Sir Charles, in his way, had looked in upon Sir Harry Beauchamp, and his lady. He found Sir Harry in high spirits, expecting the arrival of his son; who was actually landed from Calais, having met there his father's letter, allowing him to return to England, and wishing in his own, and in Lady Beauchamp's name, his speedy arrival.
Sir Charles's impatience to see his friend, permitted him only to breakfast with my lord and the Mansfields; and to know the opinion each party formed of the other, on this first interview; and then he set out to Sir Harry Beauchamp's. What an activity!—Heaven reward him with the grant of his own wishes, whatever they be, and make him the happiest of men!
My lord is greatly taken with the lady, and her whole family. Well he may, Sir Charles says. He blessed him, and called himself blessed in his sister's son, for his recommendation of each to the other. The lady thinks better of him, as her mother owned to Sir Charles, than she thought she should, from report.
I begin to think, Lucy, that those who set out for happiness are most likely to find it, when they live single till the age of fancy is over. Those who marry while it lasts, are often disappointed of that which they propose so largely to themselves: while those who wed for convenience, and deal with tolerable honesty by each other, are at a greater certainty. Tolerable, I repeat, since, it seems, we are to expect that both parties will turn the best side of the old garment outward. Hence arises consolation to old maidens, and cautions against precipitation— Expatiate, my dear, on this fruitful subject: I would, were I at leisure.
Sir Charles says that he doubts not, but Lord W—— will be as happy a man as he wishes to be, in less than a month.
The deuse is in this brother of mine, whispered Miss Grandison, to me, for huddling up of marriages! He don't consider, that there may be two chances for one, that his honest folks may in half a year's time, bless him the contrary way.
Sir Charles told us, that he had desired Lord W—— to give out every where (that the adversaries of the Mansfield family might know it) his intended alliance; and that he and his nephew were both determined to procure a retrospection of all former proceedings.
Sir Charles got to Sir Harry Beauchamp's a little before his friend arrived. Sir Harry took him aside at his alighting, and told him, that Lady Beauchamp had had clouds on her brow all the day, and he was afraid, would not receive his son with the graciousness that once he hoped for from her: but, that he left him to manage with her. She never, said he, had so high an opinion either of man or woman as she has of you.
Sir Charles addressed himself to her, as not doubting her goodness upon the foot of their former conversation; and praised her for the graces that however appeared but faintly in her countenance, till his compliments lighted them up, and made them shine full out in it. He told her, that his sister and Lord G—— were to be married on the following Tuesday. He himself, he said, should set out for Paris on Friday after: but hoped to see a family intimacy begun between his sisters and Lady Beauchamp; and between their lords, and Sir Harry, and Mr. Beauchamp. He applauded her on the generosity of her intentions, as declared to him in their former conference; and congratulated her on the power she had, of which she made so noble an use, of laying, at the same time, an obligation on the tenderest of husbands, and the most deserving of sons: whose duty to her he engaged for.
All this set her in high good humour; and she took to herself, and bridled upon it, to express myself in Charlotte's manner, the praises and graces this adroit manager gave her, as if they were her unquestionable due.
This agreeable way they were all in, Sir Harry transported with his lady's goodness, when Mr. Beauchamp arrived.
The young gentleman bent his knee to his stepmother, as well as to his father, and thanked her for the high favours his father had signified to him by letter, that he owed to her goodness. She confirmed them; but, Sir Charles observed, with an ostentation that shewed she thought very highly of her own generosity.
They had a very cheerful evening. Not one cloud would hang on Lady Beauchamp's brow, though once or twice it seemed a little overshadowed, as Mr. Beauchamp displayed qualities for which his father was too ready to admire him. Sir Charles thought it necessary to caution Sir Harry on this subject; putting it in this light, that Lady Beauchamp loved her husband so well, that she would be too likely to dread a rivalry in his affections from a son so very accomplished. Sir Harry took the hint kindly.
Mr. Beauchamp was under a good deal of concern at Sir Charles's engagements to leave England so soon after his arrival; and asked his father's leave to attend him. Sir Harry declared, that he could not part with him. Sir Charles chid his friend, and said, it was not quite so handsome a return as might have been expected from his Beauchamp, to the joyful reception he had met with from his father, and Lady Beauchamp. But she excused the young gentleman, and said, she wondered not, that any body who was favoured with his friendship, should be unwilling to be separated from him.
Sir Charles expresses great satisfaction in Mr. Beauchamp's being arrived before his departure, that he may present to us, himself, a man with whom he is sure we shall all be delighted, and leave him happy in the beloved society which he himself is obliged to quit.
A repining temper, Lucy, would consider only the hardship of meeting a long-absent friend, just to feel the uneasiness of a second parting: but this man views every thing in a right light. When his own happiness is not to be attained, he lays it out of his thoughts, and, as I have heretofore observed, rejoices in that of others. It is a pleasure to see how Sir Charles seems to enjoy the love which Dr. Bartlett expresses for this friend of them both.
Sir Charles addressed himself to me, on several occasions, in so polite, in so tender a manner, that every one told me afterwards, they are sure he loves me. Dr. Bartlett at the time, as he sat next me, whispered, on the regret expressed by all on losing him so soon—Ah, madam!—I know, and pity, my patron's struggles!—Struggles, Lucy! What could the doctor mean by this whisper to me? But I hope he guesses not at mine! If he does, would he have whispered his pity of Sir Charles to me?—Come, Lucy, this is some comfort, however; and I will endeavour to be brave upon it, that I may not, by my weakness, lessen myself in the doctor's good opinion.
It was agreed for Charlotte, (whose assent was given in these words—'Do as you will—or, rather, as my brother will—What signifies opposing him?') that the nuptials shall be solemnized, as privately as possible, at St. George's church. The company is to drop in at different doors, and with as few attendants as may be. Lord W——, the Earl of G——, and Lady Gertrude, Lord and Lady L——, Miss Jervois, and your Harriet, are to be present at the ceremony. I was very earnest to be excused, till Miss Grandison, when we were alone, dropt down on one knee, and held up her hands, to beg me to accompany her. Mr. Everard Grandison, if he can be found, is to be also there, at Sir Charles's desire.
Dr. Bartlett, as I before hinted, at her earnest request, is to perform the ceremony. Sir Charles wished it to be at his own parish-church: but Miss Grandison thought it too near to be private. He was indifferent, as to the place, he said—So it was at church; for he had been told of the difficulty we had to get Charlotte to desist from having it performed in her chamber; and seemed surprised.—Fie, Charlotte! said he—An office so solemn!—Vows to receive and pay, as in the Divine Presence—
She was glad, she told me, that she had not left that battle to be fought with him.
Lord W—— is come. Lord and Lady L—— are here. They, and Miss Grandison, received him with great respect. He embraced his nieces in a very affectionate manner. Sir Charles was absent. Lord W—— is in person and behaviour a much more agreeable man than I expected him to be. Nor is he so decrepit with the gout, as I had supposed. He is very careful of himself, it seems. This world has been kind to him; and I fancy he makes a great deal of a little pain, for want of stronger exercises to his patience; and so is a sufferer by self-indulgence. Had I not been made acquainted with his free living, and with the insults he bore from Mrs. Giffard, with a spirit so poor and so low, I should have believed I saw not only the man of quality, but the man of sense, in his countenance. I endeavoured, however, as much as I could, to look upon him as the brother of the late Lady Grandison. Had he been worthy of that relation, how should I have reverenced him!
But whatever I thought of him, he was highly taken with me. He particularly praised me for the modesty which he said was visible in my countenance. Free-livers, Lucy, taken with that grace in a woman, which they make it their pride to destroy! But all men, good and bad, admire modesty in a woman: And I am sometimes out of humour with our sex, that they do not as generally like modesty in men. I am sure that this grace, in Sir Charles Grandison, is one of his principal glories with me. It emboldens one's heart, and permits one to behave before him with ease; and, as I may say, with security, in the consciousness of a right intention.
But what were Lord W——'s praises of his nephew! He called him, the glory of his sex, and of human nature. How the cheeks of the dear Emily glowed at the praises given to her guardian!—She was the taller for them: when she moved, it was on tiptoe; stealing as it were, across the floor, lest she should lose any thing that was said on a subject so delightful to her.
My lord was greatly pleased with her too. He complimented her as the beloved ward of the best of guardians. He lamented, with us, the occasion that called his nephew abroad. He was full of his own engagements with Miss Mansfield, and declared that his nephew should guide and govern him as he pleased in every material case, respecting either the conduct of his future life, or the management and disposition of his estate; declaring, that he had made his will, and, reserving only his lady's jointure, and a few legacies, had left every thing to him.
How right a thing, even in policy, is it, my dear, to be good and generous.
I must not forget, that my lord wished with all his soul, that was his expression, that he might have the honour of giving to his nephew my hand in marriage.
I could feel myself blush. I half-suppressed a sigh: I would have wholly suppressed it, if I could. I recovered the little confusion, his too plainly expressed wish gave me, by repeating to myself the word CLEMENTINA.
This Charlotte is a great coward. But I dare not tell her so, for fear of a retort. I believe I should be as great a one in her circumstances, so few hours to one of the greatest events of one's life! But I pretend not to bravery: yet hope, that in the cause of virtue or honour I should be found to have a soul.
I write now at my cousin's. I came hither to make an alteration in my dress. I have promised to be with the sweet Bully early in the morning of her important day.
Miss Grandison is no longer to be called by that name. She is Lady G——. May she make Lord G—— as happy as I dare say he will make her, if it be not her own fault!
I was early with her, according to promise. I found her more affected than she was even last night with her approaching change of condition. Her brother had been talking to her, she said; and had laid down the duties of the state she was about to enter into, in such a serious manner, and made the performance of them of so much importance to her happiness both here and hereafter, that she was terrified at the thoughts of what she was about to undertake. She had never considered matrimony in that formidable light before. He had told her, that he was afraid of her vivacity; yet was loath to discourage her cheerfulness, or to say any thing that should lower her spirits. All he besought of her was, to regard times, tempers, and occasions; and then it would be impossible but her lively humour must give delight not only to the man whom she favoured with her hand, but to every one who had the pleasure of approaching her. If, Charlotte, said he, you would have the world around you respect your husband, you must set the example. While the wife gives the least room to suspect, that she despises her husband, she will find that she subjects him to double contempt, if he resents it not; and if he does, can you be happy? Aggressors lay themselves open to severe reprisals. If you differ, you will be apt to make by-standers judges over you. They will remember, when you are willing to forget; and your fame will be the sport of those beneath you, as well in understanding as degree.
She believed, she told me, that Lord G—— had been making some complaints of her. If he had—
Hush, my dear, said I—Not one word of threatening: are you more solicitous to conceal your fault, than to amend it?
No—But you know, Harriet, for a man, before he has experienced what sort of a wife I shall make, to complain against me for foibles in courtship, when he can help himself if he will, has something so very little—
Your conscience, Charlotte, tells you, that he had reason for complaint; and therefore you think he has complained. Think the best of Lord G—— for your own reputation's sake, since you thought fit to go thus far with him. You have borne nothing from him: he has borne a great deal from you.
I am fretful, Harriet; I won't be chidden: I will be comforted by you: you shall sooth me: are you not my sister? She threw her arms round me, and kissed my cheek.
I ventured to rally her, though I was afraid of her retort, and met with it: but I thought it would divert her. I am glad, my dear, said I, that you are capable of this tenderness of temper: you blustering girls—But fear, I believe, will make cowards loving.
Harriet, said she, and flung from me to the window, remember this: may I soon see you in the same situation! I will then have no mercy upon you.
The subject, which Sir Charles led to at breakfast, was the three weddings of Thursday last. He spoke honourably of marriage, and made some just compliments to Lord and Lady L——; concluding them with wishes, that his sister Charlotte and Lord G—— might be neither more nor less happy than they were. Then turning to Lord W——, he said, he questioned not his lordship's happiness with the lady he had so lately seen; for I cannot doubt, said he, of your lordship's affectionate gratitude to her, if she behaves, as I am sure she will.
My lord had tears in his eyes. Never man had such a nephew as I have, said he. All the joy of my present prospects, all the comforts of my future life, are and will be owing to you.
Here had he stopt, it would have been well: but turning to me, he unexpectedly said, Would to God, madam, that you could reward him! I cannot; and nobody else can.
All were alarmed for me; every eye was upon me. A sickishness came over my heart—I know not how to describe it. My head sunk upon my bosom. I could hardly sit; yet was less able to rise.
Sir Charles's face was overspread with blushes. He bowed to my lord. May the man, said he, who shall have the honour to call Miss Byron his, be, if possible, as deserving as she is! Then will they live together the life of angels.
He gracefully looked down; not at me; and I got a little courage to look up: yet Lady L—— was concerned for me: so was Lord L——: Emily's eye dropt a tear upon her blushing cheek.
Was it not, Lucy, a severe trial?—Indeed it was.
My Lord, to mend the matter, lamented very pathetically, that Sir Charles was under an obligation to go abroad; and still more, that he could not stay to be present at the celebration of his nuptials with Miss Mansfield.
The Earl, Lord G——, Lady Gertrude, and the doctor, were to meet the bride and us at church. Lord and Lady L——, Sir Charles, and Emily, went in one coach: Miss Grandison and I in another.
As we went, I don't like this affair at all, Harriet, said she. My brother has long made all other men indifferent to me. Such an infinite difference!
Can any body be happier than Lord and Lady L——, Charlotte? Yet LadyL—— admires her brother as much as you can do.
They happy!—And so they are. But Lady L——, soft soul! fell in love with Lord L—— before my brother came over. So the foundation was laid: and it being a first flame with her, she, in compliment to herself, could not but persevere. But the sorry creature Anderson, proving a sorry creature, made me despise the sex: and my brother's perfections contributed to my contempt of all other men.
Indeed, my dear, you are wrong. Lord G—— loves you: but were Sir Charles not your brother, it is not very certain, that he would have returned your love.
Why, that's true. I believe he would not, in that case, have chosen me. I am sure he would not, if he had known you: but for the man one loves, one can do any thing, be every thing, that he would wish one to be.
Do you think you cannot love Lord G——? For Heaven's sake, Charlotte, though you are now almost within sight of the church, do not think of giving your hand, if you cannot resolve to make Lord G—— as happy, as I have no doubt he will make you, if it be not your own fault.
What will my brother say? What will—
Leave that to me. I will engage Sir Charles and Dr. Bartlett to lend me their ear in the vestry; and I am sure your brother, if he knows that you have an antipathy to Lord G——, or that you think you cannot be happy with him, will undertake your cause, and bring you off.
Antipathy! That's a strong word, Harriet. The man is a good-natured silly man—
Silly! Charlotte!—Silly then he must be for loving you so well, who, really, have never yet given him an opportunity to shew his importance with you.
I do pity him sometimes.
The coach stopt:—Ah, Lord! Harriet! The church! The church!
Say, Charlotte, before you step out—Shall I speak to your brother, andDr. Bartlett, in the vestry?
I shall look like a fool either way.
Don't act like one, Charlotte, on this solemn occasion. Say, you will deserve, that you will try to deserve, Lord G——'s love.
Sir Charles appeared. Lord help me!—My brother!—I'll try, I'll try, what can be done.
He gave each his hand in turn: in we flew: the people began to gather about us. Lord G—— all rapture, received her at the entrance. Sir Charles led me: and the Earl and Lady Gertrude received us with joy in their countenances. I overheard the naughty one say, as Lord G—— led her up to the altar, You don't know what you are about, man. I expect to have all my way: remember that's one of my articles before marriage.
He returned her an answer of fond assent to her condition. I am afraid, thought I, poor Lord G——, you will be more than once reminded of this previous article.
When she was led to the altar, and Lord G—— and she stood together, she trembled. Leave me not, Harriet, said she.—Brother! Lady L——!
I am sure she looked sillier than Lord G—— at that instant.
The good doctor began the office. No dearly beloveds, Harriet! whispered she, as I had said, on a really terrible occasion. I was offended with her in my heart: again she whispered something against the office, as the doctor proceeded to give the reasons for the institution. Her levity did not forsake her even at that solemn moment.
When the service was over, every one (Sir Charles in a solemn and most affectionate manner) wished her happy. My Lord G—— kissed her hand with a bent knee.
She took my hand. Ah! Lord, what have I done?—And am I married? whispered she—And can it never be undone?—And is that the man, to whom I am to be obedient?—Is he to be my lord and master?
Ah, Lady G——, said I, it is a solemn office. You have vowed: he has vowed.—It is a solemn office.
Lord G—— led her to the first coach. Sir Charles led me into the same. The people, to my great confusion, whispered. That's the bride! What a charming couple! Sir Charles handed Miss Emily next. Lord G—— came in: as he was entering, Harkee, friend, said Charlotte, and put out her hand, you mistake the coach: you are not of our company.
The whole world, replied my lord, shall not now divide us: and took his seat on the same side with Emily.
The man's a rogue, Harriet, whispered she: See! He gives himself airs already!
This, said Lord G—— as the coach drove on, taking one hand, and eagerly kissing it, is the hand that blessed me.
And that, said she, pushing him from her with the other, is the hand that repulses your forwardness. What came you in here for?—Don't be silly.
He was in raptures all the way.
When we came home, every one embraced and wished joy to the bride. The Earl and Lady Gertrude were in high spirits. The lady re-saluted her niece, as her dear niece: the earl recognised his beloved daughter.
But prepare to hear a noble action of Lord W——.
When he came up to compliment her—My dearest niece, said he, I wish you joy with all my soul. I have not been a kind uncle. There is no fastening any thing on your brother. Accept of this: [and he put a little paper into her hand—It was a banknote of 1,000£.:] My sister's daughter, and your brother's sister, merits more than this.
Was not this handsomely presented, Lucy?
He then, in a manner becoming Lady Grandison's brother, stept to Lady L——. My niece Charlotte is not my only niece. I wish you, my dear, as if this was your day of marriage, all happiness; accept these two papers: [The one, Lucy, was a note for 1,000£. and the other for 100£.:] and he said, The lesser note is due to you for interest on the greater.
When the ladies opened their notes, and saw what they were, they were at first at a loss what to say.
It was most gracefully done. But see, Lucy, the example of a good and generous man can sometimes alter natures; and covetous men, I have heard it observed, when their hearts are opened, often act nobly.
As soon as Lady G—— (so now I must call her) recovered herself from the surprise into which my lord's present and address had put her, she went to him: Allow me, my lord, said she, and bent one knee to him, to crave your blessing; and at the same time to thank you for your paternal present to your ever obliged Charlotte.
God bless you, my dear! saluting her—But thank your noble brother: you delight me with your graceful acceptance.
Lady L—— came up. My Lord, you overcome me by your bounty.—How shallI—
Your brother's princely spirit, Lady L——, said he, makes this present look mean. Forgive me only, that it was not done before. And he saluted her.
Lord L—— came up. Lady L—— shewed him the opened notes—See here, my lord, said she, what Lord W—— has done: and he calls this the interest due on that.
Your lordship oppresses me with your goodness to your niece, said Lord L——. May health, long-life, and happiness, attend you in your own nuptials!
There, there, said Lord W——, pointing to Sir Charles, (who had withdrawn, and then entered), make your acknowledgment: his noble spirit has awakened mine; it was only asleep. My late sister's brother wanted but the force of such an example. That son is all his mother.
Sir Charles joining them, having heard only the last words—If I am thought a son not unworthy of the most excellent of mothers, said he, and by her brother, I am happy.
Then you are happy, replied my lord.
Her memory, resumed Sir Charles, I cherish; and when I have been tempted to forget myself, that memory has been a means of keeping me steady in my duty. Her precepts, my lord, were the guide of my early youth. Had I not kept them in mind, how much more blamable than most young men had I been!—My Charlotte! Have that mother in your memory, on this great change of your condition! You will not be called to her trials.—His eyes glistened. Tender be our remembrance of my father.—Charlotte, be worthy of your mother.
He withdrew with an air so noble!—But soon returning, with a cheerful look, he was told what Lord W—— had done—Your lordship was before, said he, entitled to our duty, by the ties of blood: but what is the relation of body to that of mind? You have bound me for my sisters, and that still more by the manner, than by the act, in a bond of gratitude that never can be broken!
Thank yourself, thank yourself, my noble nephew.
Encourage, my lord, a family intimacy between your lady, and her nieces and nephews. You will be delighted, my sisters, with Miss Mansfield; but when she obliges my lord with her hand, you will reverence your aunt. I shall have a pleasure, when I am far distant, in contemplating the family union. Your lordship must let me know your Day in time; and I will be joyful upon it, whatever, of a contrary nature, I may have to struggle with on my own account.
My lord wept—My lord wept, did I say?—Not one of us had a dry eye!— This was a solemn scene, you will say, for a wedding day: but how delightfully do such scenes dilate the heart!
The day, however, was not forgotten as a day of festivity. Sir Charles himself, by his vivacity and openness of countenance, made every one joyful: and, except that now and then a sigh, which could not be checked, stole from some of us, to think that he would so soon be in another country, (far distant from the friends he now made happy,) and engaged in difficulties; perhaps in dangers; every heart was present to the occasion of the day.
O, Charlotte! Dear Lady G——! Hitherto, it is in your power, to make every future day, worthy of this!—'Have your mother, your noble mother, in your memory, my dear:' and give credit to the approbation of such a brother.
I should have told you, that my cousins Reeves came about two, and were received with the utmost politeness by every body.
Sir Charles was called out just before dinner; and returned introducing a young gentleman, dressed as if for the day—This is an earlier favour, than I had hoped for, said Sir Charles; and leading him to Lady G——. This, sir, is the queen of the day. My dear Lady G——, welcome (the house is yours—welcome) the man I love: welcome my Beauchamp.
Every one, except Emily and me, crowded about Mr. Beauchamp, as SirCharles's avowedly beloved friend, and bid him cordially welcome: SirCharles presenting him to each by name.
Then leading him to me—I am half ashamed, Lucy, to repeat—But take it as he spoke it—Revere, said he, my dear friend, that excellent young lady: but let not your admiration stop at her face and person: she has a mind as exalted, my Beauchamp, as your own: Miss Byron, in honour to my sister, and of us all, has gilded this day by her presence.
Mr. Beauchamp approached me with polite respect. The lady whom SirCharles Grandison admires, as he does you, must be the first of women.
I might have said, that he, who was so eminently distinguished as the friend of Sir Charles Grandison, must be a most valuable man: but my spirits were not high. I courtesied to his compliment; and was silent.
Sir Charles presented Emily to him.—My Emily, Beauchamp. I hope to live to see her happily married. The man whose heart is but half so worthy as hers, must be an excellent man.
Modesty might look up, and be sensible to compliments from the lips of such a man. Emily looked at me with pleasure, as if she had said, Do you hear, madam, what a fine thing my guardian has said of me?
Sir Charles asked Mr. Beauchamp, how he stood with my Lady Beauchamp?
Very well, answered he. After such an introduction as you had given me to her, I must have been to blame, had I not. She is my father's wife: I must respect her, were she ever so unkind to me: she is not without good qualities. Were every family so happy as to have Sir Charles Grandison for a mediator when misunderstandings happened, there would be very few lasting differences among relations. My father and mother tell me, that they never sit down to table together, but they bless you: and to me they have talked of nobody else: but Lady Beauchamp depends upon your promise of making her acquainted with the ladies of your family.
My sisters, and their lords, will do honour to my promise in my absence. Lady L——, Lady G——, let me recommend to you Lady Beauchamp as more than a common visiting acquaintance. Do you, sir, to Mr. Beauchamp, see it cultivated.
Mr. Beauchamp is an agreeable, and, when Sir Charles Grandison is not in company, a handsome and genteel man. I think, my dear, that I do but the same justice that every body would do, in this exception. He is cheerful, lively, yet modest, and not too full of words. One sees both love and respect in every look he casts upon his friend; and that he is delighted when he hears him speak, be the subject what it will.
He once said to Lord W——, who praised his nephew to him, as he does to everybody near him; The universal voice, my lord, is in his favour wherever he goes. Every one joins almost in the same words, in different countries, allowing for the different languages, that for sweetness of manners, and manly dignity, he hardly ever had his equal.
Sir Charles was then engaged in talk with his Emily; she before him; he standing in an easy genteel attitude, leaning against the wainscot, listening, smiling, to her prattle, with looks of indulgent love, as a father might do to a child he was fond of; while she looked back every now and then towards me, so proud, poor dear! of being singled out by her guardian.
She tript to me afterwards, and, leaning over my shoulder, as I sat, whispered—I have been begging of my guardian to use his interest with you, madam, to take me down with you to Northamptonshire.
And what is the result?
She paused.
Has he denied your request?
No, madam.
Has he allowed you to go, my dear, if I comply, turning half round to her with pleasure.
She paused, and seemed at a loss. I repeated my question.
Why, no, he has not consented neither—But he said such charming things, so obliging, so kind, both of you, and of me, that I forgot my question, though it was so near my heart: but I will ask him again.
And thus, Lucy, can he decline complying, and yet send away a requester so much delighted with him, as to forget what her request was.
Miss Grandison—Lady G——, I would say—singled me out soon after—ThisBeauchamp is really a very pretty fellow, Harriet.
He is an agreeable man, answered I.
So I think. She said no more of him at that time.
Between dinner and tea, at Lady L——'s motion, they made me play on the harpsichord; and after one lesson, they besought Sir Charles to sing to my playing. He would not, he said, deny any request that was made him on that day.
He sung. He has a mellow manly voice, and great command of it.
This introduced a little concert. Mr. Beauchamp took the violin; Lord L—— the bass-viol; Lord G—— the German flute; and most of the company joined in the chorus. The song was from 'Alexander's Feast:' the words;
Happy, happy, happy pair!None but the good deserves the fair:
Sir Charles, though himself equally brave and good, preferring the latter word to the former.
Lady L—— had always insisted upon dancing at her sister's wedding. We were not company enough for country dances: but music having been ordered, and the performers come, it was insisted upon that we should have a dance, though we were engaged in a conversation that I thought infinitely more agreeable.
Lord G—— began by dancing a minuet with his bride: she danced charmingly: but on my telling her so afterwards, she whispered me, that she should have performed better, had she danced with her brother. Lord G—— danced extremely well.
Lord L—— and Lady Gertrude, Mr. Beauchamp and Mrs. Reeves, Mr. Reeves and Lady L—— danced all of them very agreeably.
The earl took me out: but we had hardly done, when, asking pardon for disgracing me, as he too modestly expressed himself; he, and all but my cousins and Emily, called out for Sir Charles to dance with me.
I was abashed at the general voice calling upon us both: but it was obeyed.
He deserved all the praises that Miss Gran—Lady G——, I would say, gave him in her letter to me.
Lord bless me, my dear, this man is every thing! But his conversation has ever been among the politest people of different nations.
Lord W—— wished himself able, from his gout, to take out Miss Jervois.
The bridegroom was called upon by Sir Charles: and he took out the good girl, who danced very prettily. I fancied, that he chose to call out Lord G—— rather than Mr. Beauchamp. He is the most delicate and considerate of men.
Sir Charles was afterwards called upon by the bride herself: and she danced then with a grace indeed! I was pleased that she could perform so well at her own wedding.
Supper was not ready till twelve. Mr. Reeves's coach came about that hour; but we got not away till two.
Perhaps the company would not have broke up so soon, had not the bride been perverse, and refused to retire.
Was she not at home? she asked Lady L——, who was put upon urging her: and should she leave her company?
She would make me retire with her. She took a very affectionate leave of me.
Marriage, Lucy, is an awful rite. It is supposed to be a joyful solemnity: but, on the woman's side, it can be only so when she is given to the man she loves above all the men in the world; and, even to her, the anniversary day, when doubt is turned into certainty, must be much happier than the day itself.
What a victim must that woman look upon herself to be, who is compelled, or even over-persuaded, to give her hand to a man who has no share in her heart? Ought not a parent or guardian, in such a circumstance, especially if the child has a delicate, an honest mind, to be chargable with all the unhappy consequences that may follow from such a cruel compulsion?
But this is not the case with Miss Grandison. Early she cast her eye on an improper object. Her pride convinced her in time of the impropriety. And this, as she owns, gave her an indifference to all men.
She hates not Lord G——. There is no man whom she prefers to him. And in this respect, may perhaps, be upon a par with eight women out of twelve, who marry, and yet make not bad wives.
As she played with her passion till she lost it, she may be happy, if she will: and since she intended to be, some time or other, Lady G——, her brother was kind in persuading her to shorten her days of coquetting and teasing, and allow him to give her to Lord G—— before he went abroad.
Dr. Bartlett was so good as to breakfast with my cousins and me this morning. He talks of setting out for Grandison-hall on Saturday or Monday next. We have settled a correspondence; and he gives me hope, that he will make me a visit in Northamptonshire. I know you will all rejoice to see him.
Emily came in before the doctor went. She brought me the compliments of the bride, and Lord W——, with their earnest request, that I would dine with them. Sir Charles was gone, she said, to make a farewell visit to the Danby set; but would be at home at dinner.
It would be better for me, I think, Lucy, to avoid all opportunities of seeing him: Don't you think so?—There is no such thing as seeing him with indifference. But, so earnestly invited, how could I deny; especially as my cousins were inclinable to go?
Miss Jervois whispered me at parting. I never before, said she, had an opportunity to observe the behaviour of a new-married couple to each other: but is it customary, madam, for the bride to be more snappish, as the bridegroom is more obliging?
Lady G—— is very naughty, my dear, if she so behaves, as to give you reason to ask this question.
She does: and, upon my word, I see more obedience where it was not promised, than where it was. Dear madam, is not what is said at church to be thought of afterwards? But why did not the doctor make her speak out? What signified bowing, except a woman was so bashful that she could not speak?
The bowing, my dear, is an assent. It is as efficacious as words. Lord G—— only bowed, you know. Could you like to be called upon, Emily, to speak out?
Why, no. But then I would be very civil and good-natured to my husband, if it were but for fear he should be cross to me: but I should think it my duty as well
Sweet innocent!
She went away, and left the doctor with me.
When our hearts are set upon a particular subject, how impertinent, how much beside the purpose, do we think every other! I wanted the doctor to talk of Sir Charles Grandison: but as he fell not into the subject, and as I was afraid he would think me to be always leading him into it, if I began it, I suffered him to go away at his first motion: I never knew him so shy upon it, however.
Sir Charles returned to dinner. He has told Lady L——, who afterwards told us, that he had a hint from Mr. Galliard, senior, that if he were not engaged in his affections, he was commissioned to make him a very great proposal in behalf of one of the young ladies he had seen the Thursday before; and that from her father.
Surely, Lucy, we may pronounce without doubt, that we live in an age in which there is a great dearth of good men, that so many offers fall to the lot of one. But, I am thinking, 'tis no small advantage to Sir Charles, that his time is so taken up, that he cannot stay long enough in any company to suffer them to cast their eyes on other objects, with distinction. He left the numerous assembly at Enfield, while they were in the height of their admiration of him. Attention, love, admiration, cannot be always kept at the stretch. You will observe, Lucy, that on the return of a long-absent dear friend, the rapture lasts not more than an hour: gladdened, as the heart is, the friend received, and the friends receiving, perhaps in less than that time, can sit down quietly together, to hear and to tell stories, of what has happened to either in the long regretted absence. It will be so with us, Lucy, when I return to the arms of my kind friends: and now, does not Sir Charles's proposed journey to Italy endear his company to us?
The Earl of G——, Lady Gertrude, and two agreeable nieces of that nobleman's, were here at dinner. Lady G—— behaved pretty well to her lord before them: but I, who understood the language of her eyes, saw them talk very saucily to him, on several occasions. My lord is a little officious in his obligingness; which takes off from that graceful, that polite frankness, which so charmingly, on all occasions, distinguishes one happy man, who was then present. Lord G—— will perhaps appear more to advantage in that person's absence.
Mr. Beauchamp was also present. He is indeed an agreeable, a modest young man. He appeared to great advantage, as well in his conversation, as by his behaviour: and not the less for subscribing in both to the superiority of his friend; who, nevertheless, endeavoured to draw him out as the first man.
After dinner, Lady L——, Lady G——, and I, found an opportunity to be by ourselves for one half hour. Lady G—— asked Lady L—— what she intended to do with the thousand pounds with which Lord W—— had so generously presented her?—Do with it, my dear!—What do you think I intend to do with it?—It is already disposed of.
I'll be hanged, said Lady G——, if this good creature has not given it to her husband.
Indeed, Charlotte, I have. I gave it to him before I slept.
I thought so! She laughed—And Lord L—— took it! Did he?
To be sure he did. I should otherwise have been displeased with him.
Dear, good soul!—And so you gave him a thousand pounds to take part of it back from him, by four or five paltry guineas at a time, at his pleasure?
Lord L—— and I, Charlotte, have but one purse. You may not perhaps, know how we manage it?
Pray, good, meek, dependent creature! how do you manage it?
Thus, Charlotte: My lord knows that his wife and he have but one interest; and from the first of our happy marriage, he would make me take one key, as he has another, of the private drawer, where his money and money-bills lie. There is a little memorandum-book in the drawer, in which he enters on one page, the money he receives; on the opposite, the money he takes out: and when I want money, I have recourse to my key. If I see but little in the drawer, I am the more moderate; or, perhaps, if my want is not urgent, defer the supplying of it till my lord is richer: but, little or much, I minute down the sum, as he himself does; and so we know what we are about; and I never put it out of my lord's power, by my unseasonable expenses, to preserve that custom of his, for which he is as much respected, as well served; not to suffer a demand to be twice made upon him where he is a debtor.
Good soul!—And, pray, don't you minute down, too, the use to which you put the money you take out?
Indeed I often do: always, indeed, when I take out more than five guineas at one time: I found my lord did so: and I followed the example of my own accord.
Happy pair! said I.—O Lady G——, what a charming example is this!—I hope you'll follow it.
Thank you, Harriet, for your advice. Why, I can't but say, that this is one pretty way of coaxing each other into frugality: but don't you think, that where an honest pair are so tender of disobliging, and so studious of obliging each other, that they seem to confess that the matrimonial good understanding hangs by very slender threads?
And do not the tenderest friendships, said I, hang by as slender? Can delicate minds be united to each other but by delicate observances?
Why thou art a good soul, too, Harriet!—And so you would both have me make a present to Lord G—— of my thousand pounds before we have chosen our private drawer; before he has got two keys made to it?
Let him know, Charlotte, what Lord L—— and I do, if you think the example worth following—And then—
Ay, and then give him my thousand pounds for a beginning, Lady L——?But see you not that this proposal should come from him, not from me?—And should we not let each other see a little of each other's meritsfirst?
See, first, the merits of the man you have married, Charlotte!
Yes, Lady L——. But yesterday married, you know. Can there be a greater difference between any two men in the world, than there often is between the same man, a lover, and a husband?—And now, my generous advisers, be pleased to continue silent. You cannot answer me fairly. And besides, wot ye not the indelicacy of an early present, which you are not obliged to make?
We were both silent, each expecting the other to answer the strange creature.
She laughed at us both. Soft souls, and tender! said she, let me tell you, that there is more indelicacy in delicacy, than you very delicate people are aware of.
You, Charlotte, said Lady L——, have odder notions than any body else.Had you been a man, you would have been a sad rake.
A rake, perhaps, I might have been; but not a sad one, Lady L——.
Lady G—— can't help being witty, said I: it is sometimes her misfortune, sometimes ours, that she cannot: however, I highly approve of the example set by Lord L——, and followed by Lady L——.
And so do I, Harriet. And when Lord G—— sets the example, I shall— consider of it. I am not a bad economist. Had I ten thousand pounds in my hands, I would not be extravagant: had I but one hundred, I would not be mean. I value not money but as it enables me to lay an obligation, instead of being under the necessity of receiving one. I am my mother's daughter, and brother's sister; and yours, Lady L——, in this particular; and yours too, Harriet: different means may be taken to arrive at the same end. Lord G—— will have no reason to be dissatisfied with my prudence in money-matters, although I should not make him one of my best courtesies, as if—as if—(and she laughed; but checking herself)—I were conscious—again she laughed—that I had signed and sealed to my absolute dependence on his bounty.
What a mad creature! said Lady L——: But, my Harriet, don't you think that she behaved pretty well to Lord G—— at table?
Yes, answered I, as those would think who observe not her arch looks: but she gave me pain for her several times; and, I believe, her brother was not without his apprehensions.
He had his eyes upon you, Harriet, replied Lady G——, more earnestly than he had upon me, or any body else.
That's true, said Lady L——. I looked upon both him and you, my dear, with pity. My tears were ready to start more than once, to reflect how happy you two might be in each other, and how greatly you would love each other, were it not——
Not one word more on this subject, dear Lady L——! I cannot bear it. I thought my-self, that he often cast an eye of tenderness upon me. I cannot bear it. I am afraid of myself; of my justice—
His tender looks did not escape me, said Lady G——. Nor yet did my dearHarriet's. But we will not touch this string: it is too tender a one.I, for my part, was forced, in order to divert myself, to turn my eyes onLord G——. He got nothing by that. The most officious—
Nay, Lady G——, interrupted I, you shall not change the discourse at the expense of the man you have vowed to honour. I will be pained myself, by the continuation of the former subject, rather than that shall be.
Charming Harriet! said Lady L——. I hope your generosity will be rewarded. Yet tell me, my dear, can you wish Lady Clementina may be his? I have no doubt but you wish her recovery; but can you wish her to be his?
I have debated the matter, my dear Lady L——, with myself. I am sorry it has admitted of debate: so excellent a creature! Such an honour to her sex! So nobly sincere! So pious!—But I will confess the truth: I have called upon justice to support me in my determination: I have supposed myself in her situation, her unhappy malady excepted: I have supposed her in mine: and ought I then to have hesitated to which to give the preference?—Yet—
What yet, most frank, and most generous of women? said Lady L——, clasping her arms about me: what yet—
Why, yet-Ah, ladies—Why, yet, I have many a pang, many a twitch, as I may call it!—Why is your brother so tender-hearted, so modest, so faultless!—Why did he not insult me with his pity? Why does he on every occasion shew a tenderness for me, that is more affecting than pity? And why does he give me a consequence that exalts, while it depresses me?
I turned my head aside to hide my emotion—Lady G—— snatched my handkerchief from me; and wiped away a starting tear; and called me by very tender names.
Am I dear, continued I, to the heart of such a man? You think I am. Allow me to say, that he is indeed dear to mine: yet I have not a wish but for his happiness, whatever becomes of me.
Emily appeared at the door—May I come in, ladies?—I will come in!—My dear Miss Byron affected! My dear Miss Byron in tears!
Her pity, without knowing the cause, sprung to her eyes. She took my hand in both hers, and repeatedly kissed it!—My guardian asks for you. O with what tenderness of voice—Where is your Miss Byron, love? He calls every one by gentle names, when he speaks of you—His voice then is the voice of love—Love, said he to me! Through you, madam, he will love his ward—And on your love will I build all my merit. But you sigh, dear Miss Byron! you sigh—Forgive your prating girl!—You must not be grieved.
I embraced her. Grief, my dear, reaches not my heart at this time. It is the merit of your guardian that affects me.
God bless you, madam, for your gratitude to my guardian!
A Clementina and a Harriet! said Lady L——, two women so excellent!What a fate is his! How must his heart be divided!
Divided, say you, Lady L——! resumed Lady G——. The man who loves virtue, for virtue's sake, loves it wherever he finds it: Such a man may distinguish more virtuous women than one: and if he be of a gentle and beneficent nature, there will be tenderness in his distinction to every one, varying only according to the difference of circumstance and situation.
Let me embrace you, my Charlotte! resumed Lady L——. for that thought. Don't let me hear, for a month to come, one word from the same lips, that may be unworthy of it.
You have Lord G—— in your head, Lady L——: but never mind us. He must now and then be made to look about him. I'll take care to keep up my consequence with him, never fear: nor shall he have reason to doubt the virtue of his wife.
Virtue, my dear! said I: What is virtue only? She who will not be virtuous for virtue's sake, is not worthy to be called a woman: but she must be something more than virtuous for her husband's, nay, for her vow's sake. Complacency, obligingness—
Obedience too, I warrant—Hush, hush, my sweet Harriet! putting her hand before my mouth, we will behave as well as we can: and that will be very well, if nobody minds us. And now let us go down together.