Читать книгу The Greatest Regency Romance Novels - Maria Edgeworth - Страница 98

Table of Contents

Is less entertaining than some of the former

The husband of Mrs. Munden being engaged abroad till his usual hour, she had just time to get into bed before he came home; which she was very glad of, as it prevented him from asking any question concerning her sitting up so much beyond her custom; and she was not willing to say any thing to him of her new guest, till she had talked farther with her, and also examined into the truth of the affair which brought her thither.

The more she reflected on the account that lady had given of herself, the less reason she found to give credit to some passages in it: she could not think that a prince, such as the Duke of M——, would, on a mere suggestion, cast a woman out to misery and beggary, whom he had so passionately loved; and yet less could she believe that her brother, a man not fiery by nature, could have acted in the manner she had represented, without a much greater provocation than what she pretended.

Besides, the mercer bringing home goods so late at night to a customer, and being locked up with her, seemed so inconsistent with innocence, that she could not help being of opinion, that the cause must be bad indeed which had no better plea for it's defence.

It also afforded her a good deal of matter for vexation, that by expressing, in such warm terms, the great liking she took of this lady when they accidentally met at the mercer's, she had encouraged her to make choice of her house for an asylum in her distress, and by this means rendered herself interested in the concerns of a stranger, who, at the best, it did not well become her to take part with.

But her most alarming apprehensions were in relation to her brother: she knew not but, if irritated to the high degree Mademoiselle de Roquelair had described, he might in reality have been guilty of some rash action, which might endanger his reputation, and even his life.

Her mind being thus employed, it is easy to believe sleep had little power over her eyes: late as she went to bed, she rose pretty early in the morning; and, impatient to know something farther of the transactions of the preceding night, she dispatched a servant to her brother's house under pretence of enquiring after his health, not doubting but, by the answer he would bring, she should be able to form some conjecture whether any thing of the nature Mademoiselle de Roquelair seemed to apprehend, had really happened or not.

The man returning with the intelligence that Mr. Thoughtless was very well, and not yet stirring, gave her great consolation: she then went up to the chamber of Mademoiselle; and, after giving her the usual salutation of the morning, sat down by her bedside, and began talking in this manner.

'Madam,' said she, 'I have been considering on your story; and as I sincerely pity the misfortunes to which you have reduced yourself, should be glad to know by what method you propose to extricate yourself from them, and what farther assistance you require from me, or is in my power to grant, without acting unbecoming of my character.'

'I should be utterly unworthy,' answered the other, weeping, 'of the compassion you have shewn, and even of the life you have preserved, should I entreat any thing of you that might either injure your reputation, or prejudice the good understanding between you and your brother. As to my misfortunes, they are, alas! past remedy; I neither hope, nor shall endeavour, for a reconciliation with Mr. Thoughtless; I have long since been ashamed and weary of the errors of my conduct, though I wanted strength of resolution to reform them: but be assured, Madam, I have now no other wish than to pass my future life in that only retreat for wretches like myself—a monastery.'

Her streaming eyes, her moving accent, and, above all, the seeming contrition she expressed for her faults, raised such a flow of tenderness in the soul of Mrs. Munden, that she resolved from that instant to do every thing in her power to save her.

'As the religion of your country,' said she, 'and in which you were bred, affords a great number of those safe and sure asylums for persons who have made ill use of their liberty, you cannot, indeed, do better than to fly to some one of them for refuge from temptations, which you have too much experienced the force of; and if you persevere in this good disposition, I will endeavour to procure the means of rendering you able to accomplish so laudable a desire.'

'Ah, Madam,' cried Mademoiselle de Roquelair, 'it is all I ask of Heaven, or you; the accidents of my life have convinced me there can be no real happiness without virtue, and that the most certain defence of virtue is religion: if I could now flatter myself with the means of being received within those sacred walls, from which the fatal love of Mr. Thoughtless drew me, I should think my guardian angel had not quite forsook me.'

On this, the good-natured believing Mrs. Munden said many kind things to her—made her take some refreshment as she lay in bed, in which she advised her to continue some time, and endeavour to compose herself to sleep, she seeming to stand in need of it very much. In going out of the chamber, she told her she should return in a few hours; but if she wanted any thing in the mean time, on her ringing a bell by her bedside, a maid-servant would immediately attend upon her.

She was, indeed, bent to try all possible methods for the accomplishment of what she promised. 'How guilty soever this unhappy woman is,' said she within herself, 'my brother, in common justice, ought at least to leave in her in the same condition in which he found her: she was then going to a nunnery; and it is now his duty to send her to one; for it cannot be expected her father will make a second offer of that sort.'

With these reflections, together with others on the manner in which it would be most proper to address Mr. Thoughtless on this score, was her mind taken up, till the hour she imagined he might be stirring: the disturbances which must necessarily have happened in his family the night before, made her suppose he might lie longer than usual; but she chose rather to wait a while for his rising, than hazard losing the opportunity of speaking to him by his being gone abroad.

That gentleman had, in fact, passed the most disagreeable night he had ever known: he had loved Mademoiselle de Roquelair with such an extravagance of fondness, that he had sometimes been even prompted by it to marry her; but the too great warmth of her constitution, and the known inconstancy of her temper, as often deterred him from it, and also made him restrain her from any of those liberties he would otherwise have allowed her: he had thought himself no less secure of her person than she always pretended he was of her heart; and now to find all his tenderness for her abused, all his precautions frustrated, might well raise in him passions of the most desperate kind.

The inclinations of this woman were, in reality, too vicious to be bound by any obligations, or withheld from their gratifications, by any of the methods taken for that purpose: she loved variety—she longed for change, without consulting whether the object was suitable or not—the mercer had a person and address agreeable enough; he was of an amorous complexion, and readily improved the advances she made him: he frequently came to her under the pretence of bringing patterns of silks, or other things in his way of trade; and all this, as she imagined, without raising any suspicion in the family. No interruption happening in their repeated interviews, she sometimes kept him with her till near the hour in which Mr. Thoughtless usually came home, which was seldom till one or two o'clock.

But on this unlucky night it so fell out that a very ill run of play, and the loss of all the money he had about him, brought him home much sooner than was his custom: a servant being at the door, prevented his knocking; so that the lovers had not the least notice how near he was to them. He went directly into his dressing-room, which was backwards on the ground-floor, and sat musing for some time, casting up the sums he had lost, cursing fortune within himself, and protesting never to touch a card or throw a dice again; when, on a sudden, he was alarmed with the sound of a man's voice laughing very heartily; he stamped with his foot; and a servant immediately coming up, 'Is there any company above?' demanded he, hastily. 'None, Sir, but the mercer that comes to Madam with silks,' replied the man. 'A mercer at this time of night!' cried Mr. Thoughtless. 'How long has he been here?'—'I cannot tell exactly, Sir,' said he; 'but, I believe, three or four hours.'—'A long visit; and on business too!' resumed Mr. Thoughtless; and, after a little pause, 'Go,' continued he, 'bid Mademoiselle de Roquelair come down to me.'

If this unfaithful woman had been but mistress of artifice enough to have made any one of the family her friend, she would certainly have been told that Mr. Thoughtless was come home, and her gallant might easily have slipt out of the house without his knowledge; but, on the contrary, her imperious behaviour towards them, set them all in general against her: this fellow in particular, whom she had used worse than the rest, rejoiced that his master was likely to find out what he wished him to know, but never durst acquaint him with.

On his going up stairs, he found they were shut in the bed-chamber; and, running to his master with this account, 'Locked in the chamber!' said Mr. Thoughtless, starting up. 'Yes, Sir,' answered the servant; 'and nobody would answer, though I knocked two or three times;' which, by the way, if he did at all, it was too softly for them to hear.

'Confusion!' cried Mr. Thoughtless, now worked up to the highest pitch of jealous rage; 'I'll try if they will open to me!' With these words he drew his sword, and flew up stairs, burst open the door, and rushed into the room with all the fury of an incensed lion. The astonished guilty pair had neither thought nor means to escape; the lover, on the first burst of the door, jumped out of the window into the yard—Mademoiselle ran screaming to one corner of the room. 'Abandoned woman!' cried Thoughtless, 'your punishment shall be the second course!' then, followed by his man with lights, ran in pursuit of the person who had injured him.

This unhappy woman, not daring to stand the tempest of his rage when he should return, took the opportunity of his having quitted the chamber to make her escape; though, at the time she did so, as she had truly told Mrs. Munden, she neither knew where nor to whom she should apply for refuge.

The mercer, in the mean time, was found by Mr. Thoughtless, but in a condition more exciting pity than revenge: the poor man had broke both his legs with his fall, and was otherwise very much hurt; but on seeing by whom, and in what manner he was approached, the terror of immediate death made him exert all the strength that was left in him to cry out for pardon; which word he repeated over and over again in the most lamentable tone that could be. Mr. Thoughtless, on this, turned hastily away, bidding his servants raise and carry him into the hall, where a chair being presently brought, he was put into it, and sent home to make the best excuse he could to his wife for the mischief that had happened to him.

Every room was afterwards searched for Mademoiselle de Roquelair; but she not being found, and a maid-servant remembering that, in the midst of the confusion, the street-door had been left open, the flight of that lady was not to be doubted.

Though these disturbances had taken up the greatest part of the night, Mr. Thoughtless was able to enjoy little repose after going to bed; and rose rather sooner than usual—he was up and dressed when his sister came; but was a good deal surprized to be told of her being there, as she had never visited him before without a formal invitation.

'Good morrow, my dear sister,' said he, as soon as she was introduced; 'this is a favour quite unexpected: pray, what brings you abroad thus early?'—'You men,' answered she, 'who keep such late hours, may well think it early; but for us women, who live more regularly, it is no wonder to see us breathe the morning air: but I assure you I rose somewhat sooner than ordinary to-day on your account.'—'On mine! As how, pray?' demanded he. 'I am come,' answered she, 'to solicit in behalf of a person who has fallen under your displeasure—Mademoiselle de Roquelair.'

'Mademoiselle de Roquelair!' cried he, hastily interrupting her: 'what knowledge can you have of that infamous creature?' She then ingenuously related to him how they had met by accident at the mercer's—the offer she had then made of her friendship; and how, as she supposed, emboldened by that mistaken encouragement, she had flown to her house for shelter the preceding night: 'You see how dangerous it is,' said he, 'to make friendship at first sight; but surely the wretch cannot flatter herself with the least distant hope of a reconciliation?'

'Far be it from me, Sir,' replied Mrs. Munden very gravely, 'to become the negociator of such a treaty, or even to attempt a vindication of her behaviour: no, it is your own honour, for which alone I am concerned; and that, I think, requires you should send her to a monastery; since, as she says, you deprived her of the opportunity of entering into one.'

'All mere pretence!' cried he: ''tis true, there was some talk of such a thing; but she has inclinations of a different sort.' To which Mrs. Munden replied, that inclinations, though ever so corrupt, might be reformed by reason, adversity, and experience—that she hoped her penitence was sincere—and what before her was her aversion, was now become her choice. She then urged the request she came upon, in terms so moving and pathetick, that Mr. Thoughtless, irritated as he was, could not withstand the energy of her words: he told her he would consider on what she had said, and give his answer the next day; but, in the mean time, desired she would advise her unworthy guest to send for her baggage immediately; saying, he would have nothing in his house that should remind him of her.

Mrs. Munden, pretty well satisfied with having obtained thus much, took her leave; and returned to Mademoiselle de Roquelair, with an account of what she had done.