Читать книгу The Greatest Regency Romance Novels - Maria Edgeworth - Страница 73

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The terrible consequence which may possibly attend our placing too great a dependance on persons whose principles we are not well assured of, are here exemplified in a notable act of villainy and hypocrisy

Miss Betsy no sooner found herself alone, than she began to reflect very seriously on the preceding passage: she knew very little of these two young noblemen, yet thought she saw enough in their behaviour to make any woman, who had the least regard for her honour or reputation, fearful to trust herself with them in any place where both might be so much endangered; she was, therefore, very much amazed that Miss Airish should run so great a risque; and, to find that she did so, joined to some other things which she had of late observed in the conduct of both the sisters, contributed to diminish the love and esteem she once had for them.

She found, however, too many objects of satisfaction in the visits she made to those ladies to be willing to break acquaintance with them; and, as she doubted not but that she had highly disobliged the one, by not complying with her invitation, and that this would infallibly occasion a rupture with the other also, if not in time reconciled, she went the next morning to their apartment, in order to make her peace.

On her enquiring for that lady, the footman told her she was but just come home, and, he believed, was going to bed; but he would tell the chamber-maid she was there. 'No, no!' cried Miss Betsy; 'only give my compliments to your lady, and tell her I will wait on her this afternoon.' She was going away with these words, but Miss Airish, lying on the same floor, heard her voice, and called to her to come in.

Miss Betsy did as she was desired, and found her in a much better humour than she expected. 'O, my dear!' said she, 'what a night have you lost by not being with us! Such a promiscuous enjoyment of every thing that can afford delight or satisfaction!—Well, after all, there is nothing like playing the rake a little sometimes—it gives such a fill-up to the spirits.'

'Provided it be innocent, I am of your mind,' replied Miss Betsy; 'I suppose every thing was managed with decency among you.'—'O quite so!' cried the other; 'all harmless libertinism: it is true, there were private rooms; but, you know, one might chuse whether one would go into them or not.'—'I am not sure of that,' said Miss Betsy: 'I am glad, however, you were so well pleased with your entertainment; and equally so, that you were not hindered from enjoying it by my not being able to share with you in it.'

'I am obliged to you, my dear,' replied Miss Airish; 'I was a little vexed with you at first, indeed, but knew you could not help it: the lady we called upon went very readily with us; so, as it happened, there was no disappointment in the case.'

'It was only to be convinced of that,' said Miss Betsy, 'that I came hither thus early; but I will now take my leave—repose I am sure is necessary for you, after so many waking hours.' The other did not oppose her departure, being, in effect, desirous of taking that rest which her exhausted spirits wanted.

Never had Miss Betsy felt within herself a greater or more sincere satisfaction than she now did, for having so prudently avoided falling into inconveniences, the least of which, as she very rightly judged, would have been paying too dear a price for all the pleasures she could have received.

Sweet indeed are the reflections which flow from a consciousness of having done what virtue, and the duty owing to the character we bear in life, exact from us! but poor Miss Betsy was not to enjoy, for any long time, so happy a tranquillity; she was rouzed out of this serenity of mind by an adventure of a different kind from all she had ever yet experienced, and which, if she were not properly guarded against, it ought to be imputed rather to the unsuspecting goodness of her heart, than to her vanity, or that inadvertency which had occasioned her former mistakes.

She was sitting near the window, leaning her arms upon the slab, very deep in contemplation, when, hearing a coach stop at the door, she looked out, imagining it might be somebody to her, and saw Mrs. Modely come out: she wondered what business that woman should now come upon, after the letter she had sent her; and resolved to chide her for any impertinent message she should deliver.

Mrs. Modely, whose profession was known to the people of the house, always ran up without any other ceremony than asking if Miss Betsy was at home and alone: being now told she was so, she flew into the room, with a distraction in her countenance which very much surprized Miss Betsy; but before she had time to ask the meaning, the other, throwing herself down in a chair, increased her astonishment by these words.

'O, Madam!' cried she, 'I am come to tell you of the saddest accident—poor Sir Frederick Fineer!—O that he had never seen you!—O that I had never meddled between you!—I am undone, that is to be sure—ruined for ever!—I shall never get another lodger—nay, I believe I shall never recover the fright I am in!'

Here she burst into a violent fit of tears; and her sobs interrupting the passage of her words, gave Miss Betsy opportunity to enquire into the mystery of her behaviour. 'For Heaven's sake, what is the matter?' said that young lady; 'pr'ythee, cease these exclamations, and speak to be understood!'

'Ah, dear Miss Betsy!' resumed the other, 'I scarce know what I say or do; poor Sir Frederick has run himself quite through the body!'—'What! killed himself!' cried Miss Betsy hastily. 'He is not dead yet,' replied Mrs. Modely; 'but there he lies, the most dismal object that ever eyes beheld! the agonies of death in his face—the sword sticking in his breast; for the surgeon says, that the moment that is drawn out, his life comes with it.'

Perceiving Miss Betsy said nothing, and looked a little troubled, she went on in this manner. 'But this is not the worst I have to tell you, Madam,' continued she; 'his death is nothing, but it is his soul—his soul, Miss Betsy! hearing them say he could not live above three hours at most, I sent for a parson; and there the good man sits and talks, and argues with him; but, would you think it, he will not pray, nor be prayed for, nor confess his sins—nor say he is sorry for what he has done—nor do any thing that is right till he has seen you.'

'Me!' said Miss Betsy; 'what would he see me for?'—'Nay, I know not; but it is his whim, and he is obstinate: therefore, my dear Madam, in christian charity, and in compassion to his soul, hear what he has to say.'

'What good can I do him by going, Mrs. Modely?' said Miss Betsy. 'None, as to his share in the world,' answered she: 'but, dear Madam, consider the other, think what a sad thing it is for a man to die without the rites of the church; I'll warrant he has sins enough upon him, as most young gentlemen have; and, sure, you would not be the cause of his being miserable to all eternity!'

'Indeed, Mrs. Modely, I do not care to go,' said Miss Betsy. 'The sight is very terrible, indeed,' cried the other; 'but you need not stay two minutes; if you but just step in and speak to him, I fancy it will be enough: but, Lord! he may be dead while we are talking; and if he should leave the world in this manner, I should not be able to live in my house; and I have a lease of eleven years to come—I should think I saw his ghost in every room—so, dear, dear Miss Betsy! for my sake, if not for his, go with me—I came in a hackney-coach for haste, and it is still at the door.'

'Well, Modely, you shall prevail,' answered Miss Betsy: 'but you shall stay in the room all the time I am there.'—'That you may be sure I will,' returned the other: 'but come, pray Heaven we are not too late!'

They said little more to each other till they came to the house of Mrs. Modely; where the first sound that reached the ears of Miss Betsy were groans, which seemed to issue from the mouth of a person in the pangs of death.

Mrs. Modely led her into Sir Frederick's chamber, which was judiciously darkened, so as to leave light enough to discern objects, yet not so much as to render them too perspicuous. Miss Betsy saw him lying on the bed, as Mrs. Modely described, with a sword sticking upright in his breast, a clergyman, and another person, who appeared to be the surgeon, were sitting near him. 'Miss Betsy is so good,' said Mrs. Modely, 'to come to visit you, Sir Frederick.'—'I am glad of it,' replied he, in a low voice.—'Pray, Madam, approach.'

'I am sorry, Sir Frederick, to find you have been guilty of so rash an action,' said Miss Betsy, drawing towards the bed. 'I could not live without you,' rejoined he; 'nor would die without leaving you as happy as it is in my power to make you: I have settled two thousand pounds a year upon you during your natural life; but, as I would consult your honour in every thing I do, and people might imagine I made you this settlement in consideration of some favours which I had too true a regard for you ever to desire, you must enjoy it as my widow, and with it the title of Lady Fineer.'

Miss Betsy was so much amazed at this proposal that she had not the power to speak; but Mrs. Modely cried out, 'Was ever any thing so generous!'—'Truly noble, indeed!' added the surgeon; 'and worthy of himself and the love he has for this lady.'—'Bless me!' said Miss Betsy, 'would you have me marry a dying man?—You ought, Sir Frederick, to have other thoughts, as you are going out of the world.'

'Aye, Sir Frederick,' cried the parson, 'think of your immortal part.'—'I can think of nothing,' answered he, groaning bitterly, 'of my own happiness till I have fixed that of Miss Betsy.'—'Lord, Madam!' cried Mrs. Modely, softly, 'you would not be so mad to refuse: what! two thousand pounds a year, and a ladyship, with liberty to marry who you will!'

'This is the most generous offer I ever heard of,' said the parson: 'But I wish the lady would resolve soon; for it is high time Sir Frederick should prepare for another world.'—'He cannot live above an hour,' rejoined the surgeon: 'even if the sword is not withdrawn; therefore, good Madam, think what you have to do.'

While they were speaking, Sir Frederick redoubled his groans, and they went on pressing her to accept the terms he offered. 'Do not plunge a man into a sad eternity, merely for his love to you,' said the parson. 'All the world would condemn you, should you refuse,' cried the surgeon. 'A virgin-widow with two thousand pounds a year!' added Mrs. Modely.

In this manner did they urge her; and the parson getting on the one side of her, and the surgeon on the other, plied her so close with arguments, both on the advantages accruing to herself, and the compassion owing from her to a gentleman who had committed this act of desperation on himself, merely through his love for her, that she neither could nor knew how to make any answer; when Sir Frederick, giving two or three great groans, which seemed more deep than before, and the surgeon, pretending to take Miss Betsy's silence for consent, cried out, 'Madam, he is just going—we must be speedy!' And then turning to the parson, 'Doctor,' said he, 'proceed to the ceremony; pass over the prelude, and begin at the most essential part, else my patient won't live to the conclusion.'

The parson knew very well what he had to do, having his book ready, began at—'Sir Frederick Fineer, Baronet, wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife?' and so on. To which Sir Frederick answered in the same dismal accents he had hitherto spoken, 'I will!' Then the parson, turning to Miss Betsy, said, 'Betsy Thoughtless, wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband?' and so forth. Miss Betsy, in the confusion of her mind, not well knowing what she said or did, replied in the affirmative; on which he was hurrying over the rest of the ceremony; but she, recollecting herself, cried out, 'Hold, doctor! I cannot be married in this manner.' But he seemed not to regard her words, but read on; and the surgeon taking hold of her hand, and joining it with Sir Frederick's, held it, in spite of her resistance, till the ring was forced upon her finger.

This action so incensed her, that the instant she got her hand at liberty, she plucked off the ring, and threw it on the ground. 'What do you mean?' said she. 'Do you think to compel me to a marriage?—Modely, you have not used me well!' With these words she was turning to go out of the room, but perceived, not till then, that Mrs. Modely had slipped out, and that the door was locked; she then began to call, 'Mrs. Modely, Mrs. Modely!' To which no answer was made.

'Come, come, Madam,' said the surgeon, 'this passion will avail you nothing; you are effectually married, whatever you may imagine to the contrary.'—'Yes, yes,' rejoined the parson, 'the ceremony is good and firm: I will stand to what I have done before any bishop in England.'—'There wants only consummation,' cried the surgeon; 'and that we must leave the bridegroom to compleat before he dies.' With these words they both went out, making the door fast after them.

Miss Betsy made use of her utmost efforts to pass at the same time they did, but they pushed her back with so much violence as almost threw her down; and Sir Frederick at the same time jumping off the bed, and throwing away the sword, which she imagined sheathed in his body, catched her suddenly in his arms.

It is hard to say whether rage for the imposition she now found had been practised on her, or the terror for the danger she was in, was the passion now most predominant in the soul of Miss Betsy; but both together served to inspire her with unusual strength and courage.

'Your resistance is vain,' cried he; 'you are my wife, and as such I shall enjoy you: no matter whether with your will or not.' She made no answer to these words; but, collecting all her force, sprung from him, and catching hold of one of the posts at the bed's foot, clung so fast round it, that all his endeavours to remove her thence were ineffectual for some moments, though the rough means he made use of for that purpose were very near breaking both her arms.

Breathless at last, however, with the continual shrieks she had sent out for help, and the violence she had sustained by the efforts of that abandoned wretch, who had as little regard to the tenderness of her sex, as to any other principle of humanity, she fell almost fainting on the floor; and was on the point of becoming a victim to the most wicked strategem that ever was invented, when on a sudden the door of the chamber was burst open, and a man, with his sword drawn, at that instant rushed in upon them.

'Monster!' cried he that entered, 'what act of villainy are you about to perpetrate?' Miss Betsy rising from the ground, at the same time, said to him, 'Oh, whoever you are, that Heaven has sent to my deliverance, save me, I conjure you, from that horrid wretch!'—'Fear nothing, Madam,' answered he. He had time for no more; the intended ravisher had snatched up his sword, and was advancing towards him with these words, 'That woman is my wife,' said he; 'how dare any one interfere between us?'—'O, it is false! it is false! believe him not!' cried Miss Betsy. Her protector made no reply; but, flying at his antagonist, immediately closed with him, and wrenched the sword out of his hand, which, throwing on the ground, he set his foot upon, and snapped it in pieces.

The obscurity of the room, joined to the excessive agitations Miss Betsy was in, had till now hindered her from discovering, either by the voice or person, who it was to whom she owed her safety: on his drawing back one of the window-curtains to give more light into the place, that he might see with whom he had been engaged, she presently saw, to her great amazement and confusion, that her deliverer was no other than Mr. Trueworth.

But how great soever was her astonishment, that of Mr. Trueworth was not less, when, looking on the face of the pretended Sir Frederick Fineer, he presently knew him to be a fellow who had served in quality of valet de chambre to a gentleman he was acquainted with in France, who had robbed his master, and only through his lenity and compassion had avoided the punishment his crimes deserved.

'Rascal!' cried Mr. Trueworth, 'have you escaped breaking on the wheel at Paris, to attempt deeds more deserving death in England!' The wretch, who hitherto had behaved with a very lofty air, now finding he was discovered, fell at Mr. Trueworth's feet, and begged he would have mercy on him—alledged, that what he had done was occasioned by mere necessity—said, he was told the lady had a great fortune, and might be easily gained, and such like stuff; which putting Mr. Trueworth beyond all patience, he gave him three or four blows with the flat of his sword, before he sheathed it, saying, at the same time, 'Execrable dog! If thou wert not unworthy of death from any hand but that of the common hangman, thou shouldst not live a moment to boast the least acquaintance with this lady.' Then turning to Miss Betsy, who was half dying with the various emotions she was possessed of, 'Madam,' said he, 'I will not ask by what means you came into this villain's company; only permit me to conduct you hence, and see you safely home.'

Miss Betsy was seized with so violent a fit of trembling through all her frame, that she had neither voice to thank him for the extraordinary assistance she had received from him, nor strength enough to bear her down stairs, if he had not with the greatest politeness, and most tender care, supported her at every step she took.

They found no creature below; the house seemed as if forsaken by all it's inhabitants; but the parlour-door being open, Mr. Trueworth placed his fair charge in an easy chair, while he ran to find somebody to get a coach.

After much knocking and calling, Mrs. Modely came out of a back room, into that where Miss Betsy was. As soon as that young lady saw her, 'Oh, Mrs. Modely!' cried she, 'I could not have believed you would have betrayed me in this cruel manner!'—'Bless me, Madam!' replied she, in a confusion which she in vain endeavoured to conceal, 'I know not what you mean. I betray you! When you were talking with Sir Frederick I was sent for out; when I came back, indeed, I saw the parson and surgeon pass through the entry in a hurry, and at the same time hearing a great noise, was going up as soon as I had pulled off my things: but I hope,' continued she, in a whining tone, 'nothing has happened to my dear Miss Betsy.'—'Whatever has happened,' said Mr. Trueworth, fiercely, 'will be enquired into: in the mean time, all we require of you is to send somebody for a coach.'

Mrs. Modely then ringing a bell, a maid-servant appeared, and what Mr. Trueworth had requested was immediately performed; but, though Miss Betsy now saw herself safe from the mischief which had so lately threatened her, she had still emotions very terrible to sustain, and would have, doubtless, thrown her into a swoon, if not vented in a violent flood of tears.

Being arrived at the house where Miss Betsy lodged, just as Mr. Trueworth was helping her out of the coach, they were met by the two Mr. Thoughtlesses coming out of the door: they started back at a sight which, it must be confessed, had something very alarming in it—they beheld their sister all pale and trembling—her eyes half drowned in tears—her garments torn—her hair hanging loosely wild about her neck and face—every token of despair about her—and in this condition conducted by a gentleman, a stranger indeed to the one, but known by the other to have been once passionately in love with her; might well occasion odd sort of apprehensions in both the brothers, especially in the younger.

The sudden sight of her brothers made a fresh attack on the already weakened spirits of Miss Betsy; and she would have sunk on the threshold of the door, as Mr. Trueworth quitted her hand, in order to present it to Mr. Francis, if the elder Mr. Thoughtless, seeing her totter, had not that instant catched her in his arms.

'Confusion!' cried Mr. Francis, 'what does all this mean? Trueworth, is it thus you bring my sister home?'—'I am heartily sorry for the occasion,' said Mr. Trueworth, 'since—' He was going on; but Mr. Francis, fired with a mistaken rage, prevented him, crying out, ''Sdeath, Sir! how came you with my sister?'—Mr. Trueworth, a little provoked to find the service he had done so ill requited, replied, in a disdainful tone, 'She will inform you! after that, if you have any farther demands upon me, you know where I am to be found; I have no leisure now to answer your interrogatories.'

With these words he stepped hastily into the coach, and ordered to be drove to the Two Red Lamps in Golden Square.

Miss Betsy's senses were entirely lost for some moments, so that she knew nothing of what passed. Mr. Francis hearing what directions Mr. Trueworth had given the coachman, was for following him, and forcing him to an explanation; but the elder Mr. Thoughtless prevailed on him to stay till they should hear what their sister would say on this affair.

She was carried into her apartment, rather dead than alive; but being laid on a settee, and proper means applied, she soon returned to a condition capable of satisfying their curiosity.