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Is more full of business than entertainment

While Mr. Trueworth was thus prosecuting a suit, which every time he saw the lovely Harriot redoubled his impatience to accomplish, Mr. Francis Thoughtless had been twice at his lodgings without finding him at home: but on that gentleman's leaving his name the second time, and saying he would come again the next morning, the other thought himself under an indispensible necessity of staying to receive his visit.

The meeting of these two was extremely civil and polite, but far from that cordial familiarity which used to pass between them, especially on the side of Mr. Francis. After Mr. Trueworth had congratulated him on the recovery of his health, and coming to town, they fell into some discourse on ordinary affairs, without the least mentioning of Miss Betsy, by either party, for a considerable time; till her brother, growing a little impatient that the other should say nothing to him on an affair in which he had made him his confidant, and which he had taken so much pains to forward, said to him, with an air, partly gay, and partly serious, 'I was surprized on my arrival to be told, that a passion so violent as that you pretended for my sister, should all on a sudden vanish, and that a thing which I once thought so near being concluded, was entirely broken off.'

'Things of that nature,' replied Mr. Trueworth, coldly, 'are never concluded till accomplished: accidents sometimes intervene to separate persons who have seemed most likely to be united for ever; which, indeed, never was the case between me and that lady.'

'Yet, Sir,' rejoined the other, a little irritated at his manner of speaking, 'I think, that when a gentleman has made his addresses to a young lady of family and character for any length of time, and in the publick manner you did, some cause ought to be assigned for his deserting her.'

'I am under no obligation,' said Mr. Trueworth, very gloomily, 'to give an account of my behaviour to any one whatever; but, in consideration of our friendship, and the love I once had for your sister, I shall make no scruple to tell you, that a woman of her humour would suit but ill with a man of mine: as to any farther eclaircissement of this affair, it is from herself alone you must receive it.'—'She shewed me a letter from you, Sir,' cried Mr. Francis, hastily. 'That might then suffice to inform you,' answered Mr. Trueworth, 'that in what I have done, I but obeyed the dictates of my honour.'—'Honour!' cried the other, fiercely, and laying his hand on his sword, 'What is it you mean, Sir? Did honour oppose your marriage with my sister?'

'No menaces!' said Mr. Trueworth, with a gravity which was pretty near disdain: 'you know me incapable of fear; I have fought for your sister, but will never fight against her. I injure not her reputation; on the contrary, I would defend it, if unjustly attacked, even at the hazard of my life: but as to love or marriage, these are things now out of the question; we both, perhaps, have other views, and the less is said of what is past is the better.'

Mr. Francis naturally took fire on the least suspicion of an indignity offered to him; but when once convinced of his mistake, was no less ready to repent and acknowledge it; he had seen many instances of the honour, generosity, and sincerity of Mr. Trueworth: he had also been witness of some of the levity and inconsiderateness of his sister; and the reflection of a moment served to make him see this change had happened merely through her own ill conduct.

His rage abated even while the other was speaking; but a deep concern remained behind; and, throwing himself down in a chair, 'Into what vexations,' cried he, 'may not a whole family be plunged, through the indiscretion of one woman?'

'Judge not too rashly,' said Mr. Trueworth; 'Miss Betsy may one day see a man so happy as to inspire her with sentiments far different from those she hitherto has entertained; and she also may be more happy herself, with a man who loves her with less delicacy than I did.'

The brother of Miss Betsy seemed not to take any notice of these words; but, rising in some confusion, 'Well, Sir,' said he, 'I shall trouble you no more upon this subject; and am sorry I have done it now.' Mr. Trueworth then told him, that though the intended alliance between them was broke off, he saw no occasion that their friendship should be so too; that he should be glad of an opportunity to return the favours he had received from him, in relation to his sister, though his endeavours on that score had not met with the desired success; and that he hoped they should not live as strangers while they continued in the same town: to all this Mr. Franics made but very short replies, either taking what he said as words of course, or because the disorder of his own mind would not permit him to prolong the conversation.

It is likely Mr. Trueworth was not much troubled at the hasty leave this young gentleman took; for though he always had a very sincere regard for him, yet the point on which he now had come, was tender, and could not be touched upon without giving him some pain: he had no time, however, to make many reflections on the conversation that had passed between them. A letter was brought him by a porter who, waiting for an answer, he immediately opened it, and found the contents as follows.

'To Charles Trueworth, Esq.

Sir,

Extraordinary merits seldom fail of having as extraordinary effects: you have made a conquest of a heart without knowing it, which not the utmost endeavours of any other could ever subdue. I am commissioned to acquaint you, that a lady of some consideration in the world, and a large fortune in her own hands, thinks you alone deserve to be the master both of that and of herself: but as she is apprehensive of your being already engaged, begs you will be so generous as to confess the truth; that, if so, she may put a timely stop to the progress of her growing passion; if not, you will, doubtless, hear more from her by the hand of, Sir, your unknown servant.

P.S. Please to send this back, with your answer wrote on the other side of the paper, which you may put up under a cover sealed up, but without any direction. Sincerity and secrecy are earnestly requested.'

Mr. Trueworth could not avoid looking on this adventure as a very odd one: yet, whether the proposal was real or feigned, the matter was wholly indifferent to him; and he hesitated not a moment in what part he should take in it; but sat down immediately, and wrote, as desired, the following answer.

'To the unknown.

Sir, or Madam,

Though I know the honour with which you flatter me is more the effect of fortune than desert, it would certainly make me vain and happy, were I not denied the power of accepting. The heart required of me by the lady is already disposed of—irrecoverably disposed of; and I can only repay her goodness by sincerely wishing a return of hers, and with it all those felicities she would so lavishly bestow on her most obliged, and most humble servant,

C. Trueworth.

P.S. The lady may depend, that my secrecy shall be equal to the sincerity I have shewn in this.'

He had no sooner dispatched the messenger who brought this, than a second came, and presented him with another, and had orders also to wait for an answer: he presently knew it came from Miss Flora, and expected the contents to be such as he found them on perusing.

'To Charles Trueworth, Esq.

Most cruel and ungenerous man!

Loth I am to give you epithets like these: my heart shudders, and my trembling hand is scarce able to guide my pen in those reproaches which my reason tells me you deserve: how unkind, how stabbing to the soul, was your behaviour at our last meeting! yet, even then, you promised me to write; I depended on that promise, and hope had not quite forsook me; every knocking at the door I expected was a messenger from you; in vain I expected, in vain I looked, in vain I listened for the welcome mandate; and every disappointment threw me into fresh agonies. I have sent twice to the coffee-house, been there once in person; but could hear nothing of you. O, what secret recess now hides you from me? What can have caused so terrible a reverse in my so lately happy fate? I fear to guess; for madness is in the thought! O do not drive me to extremes!! Many women, with not half my love, or my despair, have ran headlong into actions which, in my cooler moments, I dread to think on. Be assured, I cannot live, will not live, without you! Torture me not any longer with suspense! Pronounce my doom at once! But let it be from your own mouth that I receive it; that you, at least, may be witness of the death you inflict, and be compelled to pity, if you cannot love, the most unfortunate, and most faithful, of her sex,

F. Mellasin.

P.S. I have charged the man who brings you this, to find you wherever you are, and not to leave you without an answer.'

Mr. Trueworth was in the utmost perplexity of mind on reading this distracted epistle. Of all the hours of his past life he could not recollect any one which gave him so much cause of repentance as that wherein he had commenced an amour with a woman of so violent a temper: he had never loved her; and all the liking he ever had for her being now utterly erased by a more laudable impression, the guilty pleasures he had enjoyed with her were now irksome to his remembrance; and the more she endeavoured to revive the tender folly in him, the more she grew distasteful to him.

It so little becomes a woman, whose characteristick should be modesty, to use any endeavours to force desire, that those who do it are sure to convert love into indifference, and indifference into loathing and contempt: even she who, with the greatest seeming delicacy, labours to rekindle a flame once extinguished, will find the truth of what Morat says in the play—

'To love once pass'd we cannot backward move;

Call yesterday again, and we may love.'

Mr. Trueworth, however, had so much pity for that unfortunate creature, that he would have given, perhaps, good part of his estate that she no longer loved him: but how to turn the tide of so extravagant a passion, he could not yet resolve; and it being near the time in which he knew they would expect him at Sir Bazil's, where he now dined every day, and the messenger who brought him the letter also growing impatient to be dispatched, he wrote in haste these few lines.

'To Miss Flora Mellasin.

Madam,

Business of the greatest consequence now calls upon me, and I have no time to write as I would do; but depend upon it I will send to you to-morrow morning, and either appoint a meeting, or let you know my real sentiments in a letter; till when, I beg you will make yourself more easy, if you desire to oblige him who is, with the most unfeigned good wishes, Madam, your most humble, and most obedient servant,

C. Trueworth.

P.S. I shall take it as a favour, Madam, that you will henceforward forbear to make any enquiry concerning me at the coffee-house, or elsewhere.'

Having given this to Miss Flora's porter, he hasted away to Sir Bazil's; there to compose his mind, after the embarrassments it had sustained that morning.