Читать книгу The Greatest Regency Romance Novels - Maria Edgeworth - Страница 59

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Relates only to such things as the reader may reasonably expect would happen

As much taken up as Miss Betsy was with the pleasure of having gained a new admirer, she could not forbear, after she came home, making some reflection on the value of her conquest; she had found nothing agreeable either in his person or conversation: the first seemed to her stiff and awkward, and looked as if not made for his cloaths; and the latter, weak, romantick, and bombast: in fine, he was altogether such as she could not think of living with as a husband, though the rank and figure she was told he held in the world, made her willing to receive him as a lover. In short, though she could not consent to sacrifice herself to his quality, she took a pride to sacrifice his quality to her vanity.

No overtures of marriage having been made to her since Mr. Munden began his courtship, and that gentleman growing, as she fancied at least, a little too presuming, on finding himself the only lover, she was not a little pleased at the opportunity of giving him a rival whose quality might over-awe his hopes. In this idea, she was far from repenting her behaviour towards him the night before: but how little soever she regarded what mortification she gave the men, she always took care to treat her own sex with a great deal of politeness; and reflecting that she had been guilty of an omission, in not sending her servant to excuse herself to the ladies who expected her, went herself in the morning to make her own apology.

In the mean time, Mr. Munden, who it is certain was very much out of humour, and impatient to let her know some part of the sentiments her message had inspired him with, came to make her a morning visit, having some business which he knew would detain him from waiting on her in the afternoon. On finding she was abroad, he desired the maid to favour him with her lady's standish; which she accordingly bringing to him, he sat down, and, without taking much consideration, wrote the following letter, and left for her on the table.

'To Miss Betsy Thoughtless.

Madam,

Amidst the enchanting encouragement with which you have been pleased to admit my services, I would not, without calling your honour and generosity in question, be altogether void of hope, that you intended to afford them one day a recompence for ample than a bare acceptance.

Judge, then, of my surprize at the repulse I met with at Mrs. Modely's door. I could not think it any breach of the respect I owe you, to call on you at the house of your mantua-maker; I could not imagine it possible for you to have any engagements at such a place capable of preventing you from keeping those that you had made with persons for whom you profess an esteem: on the contrary, I rather expected you would have permitted me to conduct you thence, with the same readiness you have done from most of the other places where you have been, since I first had the honour of being acquainted with you.

I know very well, that it is the duty of every lover to submit, in all things to the pleasure of the beautiful object whose chains he wears, yet, Madam, as you have hitherto made mine easy, you must pardon me, when I say, that this sudden transition from gentleness to cruelty, appears to me to contain a mystery, which, though I dread, I am distracted for the explanation of.

Some business of great moment prevents my waiting on you this afternoon, but shall attend your commands to-morrow at the usual hour; when, I still flatter myself, you will relieve the anxieties, and put an end to the suspense, of him who is, with the greatest sincerity of heart, Madam, your most humble, and most faithfully devoted servant,

G. Munden.'

Miss Betsy, at her return home, found also another billet directed for her, which they told her had been brought by a servant belonging to Sir Frederick Fineer: she gave that from Mr. Munden, however, the preference of reading first, not indeed through choice, but chance, that happening to be first put into her hands. As soon as she had looked it over, she laughed, and said to herself, 'The poor man is jealous already, though he knows not of whom, or why: what will become of him when he shall be convinced? I suppose he was sure of having me, and it is high time to mortify his vanity.'

She then proceeded to Sir Frederick's epistle; in which she found herself more deified than ever she had been by all her lovers put together.

'To the most wonderful of her sex, the incomparable Miss Betsy Thoughtless.

Divine charmer,

Though I designed myself the inexpressible pleasure of kissing your fair hands this evening, I could not exist till then without telling you how much I adore you: you are the empress of my heart, the goddess of my soul! the one loves you with the most loyal and obedient passion, the other regards you as the sole mover and director of all its motions. I cannot live without you; it is you alone can make me blest, or miserable. O then pronounce my doom, and keep me not suspended between heaven and hell. Words cannot describe the ardency of my flame; it is actions only that can do it. I lay myself, and all that I am worth, an humble offering at your feet. Accept it, I beseech you; but accept it soon; for I consume away in the fire of my impatient wishes; and, in a very short time, there will be nothing left for you but the shadow of the man who is, with the most pure devotion, Madam, your beauty's slave, and everlasting adorer,

F. Fineer.'

'Good lack!' cried Miss Betsy, 'he is in a great haste, too; but I fancy he must wait a while, as many of better sense have done. What a romantick jargon is here! One would think he had been consulting all the ballads since fair Rosamond, and the Children in the Wood, for fine phrases to melt me into pity!'

She wondered, as indeed she had good reason, that a man of his birth, and who, it must be supposed, had an education suitable to it, should express himself in such odd terms; but then she was tempted to imagine, that it was only his over-care to please her that had made him stretch his wit beyond it's natural extent, and that if he had loved her less, he would have been able to have told her so in a much better stile. Possessed with this fancy, 'What a ridiculous thing this love is!' said she; 'What extravagancies does it sometimes make men guilty of! yet one never sees this madness in them after they become husbands. If I were to marry Sir Frederick, I do not doubt but he would soon recover his senses.'

How does a mind, unbroke with cares and disappointments, entirely free from passion, and perfectly at peace with itself, improve, and dwell on every thing that affords the least matter for its entertainment? This young lady found as much diversion in anticipating the innocent pranks she intended to play with the authors of these two letters, as an infant does in first playing with a new baby, and afterwards plucking it to pieces; so true is the observation of the poet, that—

'All are but children of a larger growth.'

But this sprightliness of humour in Miss Betsy soon received a sad and sudden interruption: having sent, as she constantly did every day, to enquire after the health of Mr. Goodman, her servant returned with an account, that he had expired that morning. Though this was an event, which she, and all who knew him, had expected for some time, yet could she not be told of the death of a gentleman, under whose care and protection she so long had been, and who had behaved in all respects so like a parent towards her, without being very deeply affected with the news; she was then at dinner, but threw down her knife and fork, rose from the table, and retired to her chamber and wept bitterly: the more violent emotions of grief were soon assuaged, but her melancholy and dejection of spirits continued much longer; and, while they did so, she had the power of making the most just reflections on the vain pursuits, the fleeting pleasures, and all the noise and hurry of the giddy world. Love, and all the impertinences which bear that name, now appeared only worthy of her contempt; and, recollecting that Sir Frederick had mentioned visiting her that evening, she sent a servant immediately to Mrs. Modely's, desiring her to acquaint that gentleman, that she had just lost a very dear friend, and was in too much affliction to admit of any company.

This being the day on which Mr. Francis Thoughtless was expected to be in London, this affectionate sister perceiving, by his last letter to her, that his health was not perfectly established, was under a very great concern, lest he should be put to some inconvenience by Mr. Goodman's death, for a proper lodging on his first arrival; but she soon found her tender fears, on this occasion, altogether groundless.

Those objections which had hindered Mr. Thomas Thoughtless from taking her into his family, had not the same weight in relation to Mr. Francis, whose sex set him above meddling with those domestick concerns, the command of which he had given to another; and his reputation would suffer nothing by being under the same roof with the mistress of his brother's amorous inclinations.

He went to the inn where he knew the L——e stage puts up, welcomed Mr. Francis with open arms, as soon as he alighted from the coach, and gave him all the demonstrations of brotherly affection that the place they were in would admit of; then conducted him to his house, and insisted that he should not think of any other home, till he was better provided for, and settled in the world.

A servant belonging to the elder Mr. Thoughtless was immediately dispatched to Miss Betsy, with a letter from the younger; and it was from this man that she received the agreeable intelligence, that the two brothers were together. The terms in which Mr. Francis wrote to her were these—

'To Miss Betsy Thoughtless.

My dear sister,

Heaven be thanked, I am at last got safe to London; a place, which, I assure you, some months ago I almost despaired of ever seeing more. My brother has just given me an account of the death of honest Mr. Goodman; and, as I doubt not but you are very much concerned, as indeed we all have reason to be, for the loss of so sincere and valuable a friend, I am very impatient to see you, and give you what consolation is in my power; but the fatigue of my journey, after so long an illness, requires my taking some immediate repose; I shall, however, wait on you to-morrow morning; till when, believe me, as ever, with the greatest sincerity, dear sister, your affectionate brother, and humble servant,

F. Thoughtless..

P.S. My brother purposes to come with me; but if any thing should happen to prevent his visit, you may depend on one from me. Once more, my dear sister, good night.'

In the present situation of Miss Betsy's mind, she could not have received a more sensible satisfaction, than what she felt on this young gentleman's arrival: but what ensued upon it will in due time and place appear.