Читать книгу The Greatest Regency Romance Novels - Maria Edgeworth - Страница 54

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Shews Miss Betsy left entirely to her own management, and the cause of it, with some other particulars

Mr. Goodman, who had been a little vexed at being interrupted in the remonstrances he thought so highly necessary should be made to Miss Betsy, took an opportunity of renewing them the next morning, in the strongest expressions he was master of.

Miss Betsy, with all her wit, had little to say for herself in answer to the serious harangue made to her by Mr. Goodman on her present fashion of behaviour; her heart avowed the justice of his reproofs, but her humour, too tenacious of what pleased itself, and too impatient of control, would not suffer her to obey the dictates either of his or her own reason. She knew very well the tender regard he had for her, on the account of her deceased father, and that all he spoke was calculated for her good; but then it was a good she was not at present ambitious of attaining, and thought it the privilege of youth to do whatever it listed, provided the rules of virtue were unfringed; so that all he could get from her was—that her amusements were innocent—that she meant no harm in any thing she did—that it was dull for her to sit at home alone; and, when in company, could not quit it abruptly on any consideration of hours.

Mr. Goodman found, that to bring her to a more just sense of what was really her advantage, would be a task impossible for him to accomplish; he began heartily to wish she was under the care of some person who had more leisure to argue with her on points so essential to her happiness: he told her, that he indeed had feared his house would be too melancholy a recess for her since the revolution that had lately happened in his family, and therefore wished some more proper place could be found for her. 'And for such a one,' said he, 'I shall make it my business to enquire; and there seems not only a necessity for my doing so, but that you should also choose another guardian; for as soon as the present unlucky business I am engaged in shall be over, it is my resolution to break up housekeeping, leave my business to my nephew, Ned Goodman, whom I expect by the first ship that arrives from the East Indies; and, having once seen him settled, retire, and spend the remainder of my days in the country.'

The melancholy accents with which Mr. Goodman spoke these words, touched Miss Betsy very much; she expressed, in terms the most affectionate, the deep concern it gave her that he had any cause to withdraw from a way of life to which he had so long been accustomed: but added, that if it must be so, she knew no person so proper, in whose hands the little fortune she was mistress of should be entrusted, as those of her brother Thoughtless, if he would vouchsafe to take that trouble upon him.

'There is no doubt to be made of that, I believe,' replied Mr. Goodman; 'and I shall speak to him about it the first time I see him.' They had some farther talk on Miss Betsy's affairs; and that young lady found he had very largely improved the portion bequeathed her by her father; for which, in the first emotions of her gratitude, she was beginning to pour forth such acknowledgements as he thought it too much to hear, and interrupted her, saying he had done no more than his duty obliged him to do, and could not have answered to himself the omission of any part of it.

It is so natural for people to love money, even before they know what to do with it, that it is not to be wondered at that Miss Betsy, now arrived at an age capable of relishing all the delicacies of life, should be transported at finding so considerable, and withal so unexpected, an augmentation of her fortune, which was no less than one third of what her father had left her.

The innate pleasure of her mind, on this occasion, diffused itself through all her form, and gave a double lustre to her eyes and air; so that she went with charms new pointed to a ball that night; for which the obsequious Mr. Munden had presented her with a ticket: but though she had all the respect in the world for Mr. Goodman, and indeed a kind of filial love for him, yet she had it not in her power to pay that regard to his admonitions she ought to have done. She came not home till between one and two o'clock in the morning; but was extremely surprized to find, that when she did so, the knocker was taken off the door; a thing which, in complaisance to her, had never before been done till she came in, how late soever she staid abroad: she was, nevertheless, much more surprized, as well as troubled, when, at the first rap her chairman gave, a footman, who waited in the hall for her return, immediately opened the door, and told her, with all the marks of sorrow in his countenance, that his master had been suddenly taken ill, and that his physician, as well as Mrs. Barns, the housekeeper, had given strict orders there should be no noise made in the house, the former having said his life depended on his being kept perfectly quiet.

It is not to be doubted, but that, on this information, she went with as little noise as possible up to her chamber; where Nanny, as she was putting her to bed, confirmed to her what the footman had said; and added, that she had heard the doctor tell Mrs. Barns, as he was going out, that he was very apprehensive his patient's disorder would not be easily remedied.

Distempers of the body, which arise from those of the mind, are, indeed, much more difficult to be cured than those which proceed from mere natural causes. Mr. Goodman's resentment for the ill usage he had sustained from a woman he had so tenderly loved, awhile kept up his spirits, and hindered him from feeling the cruel sting, which preyed upon his vitals, and insensibly slackened the strings of life: but the first hurry being over, and the lawyer having told him that every thing was drawn up, and his cause would be brought before the Commons in a few days, he sunk beneath the apprehensions; the thoughts of appearing before the doctors of the civil law, to several of whom he was known, to prove his own dishonour—the talk of the town—the whispers—the grimaces—the ridicule, which he was sensible this affair would occasion when exposed—the pity of some—and the contempt he must expect from others—all these things, though little regarded by him while at a distance, now they came more near at hand, and just ready to fall upon him, gave him such a shock, as all the courage he had assumed was not sufficient to enable him to resist.

He was seized at once with a violent fit of an apoplexy at a coffee-house, where a surgeon being immediately sent for, he was let blood, as is common in such cases. This operation soon recovered him, so far as speech and motion; but reason had not power to re-assume her seat in his distracted brain for many hours—he was brought home in a chair—the surgeon attended him—saw him put into bed, and sat by him a considerable time: but, finding him rather worse than better, told Mrs. Barns, he durst not proceed any farther, and that they must have recourse to a physician; which was accordingly done.

This gentleman, who was esteemed the most skilful of his profession, hearing Mr. Goodman frequently cry out, 'My heart! my heart!' laid his hand upon his bosom; and found, by the extraordinary pulsations there, that he had symptoms of an inward convulsion, wrote a prescription, and ordered he should be kept extremely quiet.

Towards morning, he grew more composed; and, by degrees, recovered the use of his understanding as perfectly as ever: but his limbs were so much weakened by that severe attack the fit had made upon him, that he could not sit up in his bed without support. The physician, however, had great hopes of him; said his imbecillity proceeded only from a fever of the nerves, which he doubted not but to abate, and that he would be well in a few days. How uncertain, how little to be depended upon, is art, in some cases! Mr. Goodman felt that within himself which gave the lye to all appearances; and, fully convinced that the hand of death had seized upon his heart, would not defer a moment putting all his affairs in such a posture as should leave no room for contention among the parties concerned, after his decease: he began with sending for Mr. Thoughtless; and consigned over to him the whole fortunes of Mr. Francis and Miss Betsy, the latter being obliged, as not being yet of age, to chuse him for her guardian in form. Having thus acquitted himself, in the most honourable manner, of the trust reposed in him for the children of his friend, he considered what was best to be done in relation to those of his own blood. By his death, the intended process against Lady Mellasin would be prevented, and consequently the third part of his effects would devolve on her, as being the widow of a citizen: he, therefore, having consulted with his lawyer if such a thing were practicable, made a deed of gift to his nephew, Mr. Edward Goodman, of all his money in the Bank, stocks, and other publick funds. After this, he made his will; and the lawyer, perceiving he had left but few legacies, asked him how the residue of what he was possessed of should be disposed: to which he replied, 'greatly as I have been wronged by Lady Mellasin, I would not have her starve; I have been calculating in my mind to what her dividend may amount, and believe it will be sufficient to enable her to live in that retired manner which best becomes her age and character.'

Mr. Goodman, thus having settled all his affairs in this world, began to make such preparations for another as are necessary for the best of men. In the mean time, as the least noise was disturbing to him, it was judged proper that Miss Betsy, who could not live without company, should remove. No boarding-place to her mind being yet found, and having done with all hopes of living with her brother, (as she was by this time informed of the true reasons he had for her not doing so) took lodgings in Jermyn Street; and finding the interest of her fortune, through the good management of her guardian, would allow it, hired a maid and foot-boy to wait upon her.

The adieu she received from Mr. Goodman was the most tender and affectionate that could be; she was very much moved with it, and sincerely lamented the loss she should sustain of so honest and worthy a friend: but her natural sprightliness would not suffer any melancholy reflections to dwell long upon her mind; and the hurry she was in of sending messages to all her acquaintance, with an account of the change of her situation, very much contributed to dissipate them. This important business was scarce over, and she well settled in her new habitation, when one of Mr. Goodman's footmen brought her a letter from her brother Frank, which had been just left for her by the post. It contained these lines.

'To Miss Betsy Thoughtless.

My dear sister,

I have been snatched from the brink of the grave, by the skill of one of the best physicians in the world, and the tender, and, I may say, maternal care of our most dear, and truly valuable friend, the excellent Lady Trusty. The first use I make of my recovered health, is to give an account of it to those whom, I flatter myself, will be obliged by the intelligence. I thank you for the many kind wishes you have sent me during the course of my illness, but hoped to have seen, before now, another name subscribed to your letters than that you received from your birth; and cannot help saying, I am a little surprized, that in the two last you favoured me with, you have been entirely silent on a subject you know I have always had very much at heart. I have also very lately received a letter from Mr. Trueworth, wherein he tells me, he is going to his country-seat—expresses the most kind concern for me, but mentions not the least syllable of you, or of his passion. I fear, my dear sister, there is some misunderstanding between you, which would very much trouble me, for your sake especially: but I shall defer what I have to say to you till I have the pleasure of seeing you. I am not yet judged fit to sit my horse for so long a journey; and the places in the stagecoach are all taken for to-morrow, but have secured one in Thursday's coach, and expect to be with you on Saturday. I accompany this to you with another one to my brother, and another to Mr. Goodman; so have no occasion to trouble you with my compliments to either. Farewel! I think I need not tell you that I am, with an unfeigned regard, my dear sister, your very affectionate brother, and humble servant,

F. Thoughtless.

P.S. Sir Ralph and Lady Trusty are both from home at this time, or I am certain their good wishes, if no more, would have joined mine, that you may never cease to enjoy whatever it becomes you to desire! My dear Betsy, adieu!'

The joy which this letter would have afforded Miss Betsy had been compleat, if not somewhat abated by the apprehensions of what her brother would have to say to her when he should find she was indeed entirely broke off with Mr. Trueworth: but as the reader may probably desire to know in what manner he passed his time after that event, and the motives which induced him to stay in London, it is now highly proper to say something of both.