CHAP. XV.

In which those circumstances are partly explained.

You may remember I told you, soon after you came here, that before I went to Leghorn, I heard Mr. Damer was courting the daughter of a rich citizen; I had been returned but three or four days, when he came to me to know if I could accommodate a young lady, a ward of his father’s, with lodging and board; to which I readily consented.

“It is no flattery, miss, to tell you, that when I saw you, I was charmed with your person and behaviour: your beauty and Mr. Damer’s extreme assiduity, made it seem highly probable that he loved you. I set myself to examine his behaviour, and the observations I made on it confirmed my suspicions. I had then heard nothing of his being married, having upon my return been so taken up with my domestic affairs, that I had no leisure to make or receive visits, from which I could receive any information concerning what had happened in my absence.

“I was a little surprised to find that you had been introduced to me under a feigned name, and that you were not called Benson, but Courteney. However, I made no reflections upon that circumstance, till, about two days afterwards, I accidentally heard that Mr. Damer had been married two months; then it was, that in my astonishment at his so cautiously avoiding any mention of his wife, I was led to reflect upon what you yourself had informed me of your situation; your flight from your friends, Mr. Damer’s apparent tenderness for you, awakened suspicions, I own it, disadvantageous to you.

“I waited impatiently for the hour of Mr. Damer’s visiting you, and the moment I saw him wished him joy on his marriage, expressing my surprise that I should not have heard of that event from himself. He coloured, and seemed in great confusion; and, after a little pause, Have you said anything of it to miss Courteney? said he.

“I replied that I had heard the news but an hour before, and had not seen you since.

“You will oblige me (said he) if you will not mention it to her—I stared—My wife (continued he) is the most unreasonable woman in the world; she has taken it into her head to be horribly jealous of me, though we have been married so short a time—It was a match (and he sighed) of my father’s making—but I assure you I am very unhappy.

“I am sorry for it, sir (interrupted I) but what reasons have you for concealing from miss Courteney that you are married?

“It is a sad thing, Mrs. Willis (said he) when a man is not master in his own family. I hope that is not your case, sir, answered I. Indeed but it is, he replied. Miss Courteney, you know, is agreeable. Oh! very agreeable, said I. My wife is of such an unaccountable humour (resumed he) that I durst not offer miss Courteney, though my father is her guardian, an asylum in my house, till her relations were reconciled to her, lest I should be teazed with jealousy and suspicions.

“I am persuaded, sir (said I) that miss Courteney has too much good sense to take it amiss that you did not invite her to your house, as things were circumstanced. She has more reason to be displeased at your concealing your marriage from her, which every body knows, and which she would soon know if she lived less retired.

“Let me intreat you, Mrs. Willis (said he) not to mention it to miss Courteney. I would not upon any account that she should know I am married, yet could not offer her an apartment in my house.

“Indeed, sir (said I, smiling) you make this matter of more consequence than you need to do; miss Courteney will not consider it as any slight to her.

“She must either think herself slighted (resumed he, with quickness) by my not inviting her, or she will divine the reason, which would be worse; for in that case her delicacy is so extreme, that she would never allow me to see her.

“Ah, thought I, is it so! He perceived he had almost betrayed himself; and changed the discourse, asking me many questions about my husband, whose diligence and fidelity he highly extolled, dropping hints of designs in his favour; and indeed it is in his power to be of great service to him.

“But I had no satisfaction, pursued Mrs. Willis, in what he said; for, to my apprehension, it appeared as if he sought to bribe me into a concurrence with his designs, whatever they were. Therefore I sat silent, and I believe discovered by my looks, that I did not like his proceedings; for he rose up, and, with an air of some resentment, said,

“That his father would be in town in a few days, and would then dispose of you properly; and that in the mean time he must insist upon my being silent with regard to his marriage, since it would throw him into great confusion if you knew it; and added, that he thought he might reasonably expect this instance of my complaisance.

“I told him that I was very glad to hear his father would be in town so soon, and would take the young lady under his own care: that since he desired it, I would not be the first to acquaint you with his marriage; I owned his reasons appeared to me very whimsical: but that it was not my business to be impertinently curious; and that I should concern myself no farther about it.

“He seemed pleased with this indifference, and went up stairs to see you. I had already taken my resolution, my dear miss Courteney, which was to write to his father, and acquaint him with the whole transaction. I was willing to leave the young gentleman in a false security, that he might not suspect my design, and take measures to render it useless; and not being sure how far even you might be trusted, for my suspicions of you, though weakened, were not yet removed, I thought it best to say nothing that could alarm you, till I had received the old gentleman’s advice how to act; but my measures were broke by Mr. Damer’s resolving to take you from my house.

“He came into the parlour to me to-day, before you saw him, and told me, that he had directions from his father to send you into the country, because he did not expect to return for some time yet, and he did not approve of your residing in London till he came.

“You may easily imagine, miss, that I was not satisfied with the cause he assigned for this sudden resolution. I was now alarmed for you; and judged it necessary to acquaint you immediately with Mr. Damer’s being married, that you might not fall ignorantly into his snares. I began with asking you questions, to which the openness and simplicity of your answers convinced me that you were imposed upon greatly by Mr. Damer. I was going to explain myself clearly, when Mrs. Damer’s arrival interrupted me. You know with what earnestness I intreated you not to leave my house; I was apprehensive that he was come to hurry you away, and I trembled for the danger to which you were exposed.

“When I left you, I met Mrs. Damer upon the stairs; and, not knowing her, I asked, who it was she desired to see? The young woman that lodges with you, said she, in a tone of voice that surprised me. I told her, I would go and acquaint you that there was a lady wanted to speak to you: but she rushed by me, saying, there is no need of that ceremony, I shall introduce myself.

“Her behaviour recalling to my mind what Mr. Damer had said of his wife’s jealousy, I suspected this was the lady; and, to be assured, I enquired of a servant, who attended her, who she was. The moment I knew it was really her, I flew up stairs, being full of concern for you; for I saw a storm in her countenance, and dreaded the consequence—The poor young man is indeed plagued with a jealous wife; and in that particular he told the truth. But, my dear miss, I see plainly that the mystery he has made of his connexions with you has rouzed her suspicions.”

“It is all an incomprehensible mystery to me,” said Henrietta, sighing: “Mr. Damer has certainly deceived me, for what purposes I know not; but I know that I will never see him again, but in the presence of his father, to have this dark affair cleared up.

“But, my dear Mrs. Willis, how shall I express what my heart feels for you, who have shewn so tender a regard for my honour and quiet—How miserable might I have been, had you been less good—I am sure I may rely upon your prudence—Advise me then what to do: you know my story; you see my present situation—I have no friend, no protector.”

“My dear miss,” interrupted Mrs. Willis, “there is but one thing for you to do, and that is, to return to your aunt.”

“How can I appear before her?” said Henrietta, “after having so greatly disobliged her by my flight; a flight which has had such disgraceful consequences. Besides, do not the same motives that obliged me to leave her, still subsist? and are they not equally strong against my returning?”

“I would not pain you, my dear miss,” said Mrs. Willis, “with the recollection of a past error, were it not to make it useful to you in your present circumstances—Warned as you were of your aunt’s designs, it was impossible to carry them into execution without your concurrence: your flight therefore was not necessary, and, if not necessary, surely it was highly imprudent; and, in my opinion, can only be repaired by a voluntary return.—Need I tell a young lady of your delicacy, that imputations, however unjust, sully, if they do not stain a character. Do you think this woman’s frantic jealousy will be silent? how can you otherwise prove the falshood of her assertions, than by returning to your aunt, and making yourself accountable to her for all your actions? Nothing can be more unfortunate for youth and beauty, than to be left to its own guidance and discretion. The world seldom attributes too much prudence to youth: however regular our conduct may be in that gay time of life, it is supposed to be owing to the care and attention of our parents or relations, rather than to our own circumspection. Can a young woman, who voluntarily sets herself free from that restraint, hope to escape unfavourable censures, when those who owe it to chance only that they are not subjected to any control, suffer perhaps in the opinion of the world, because they are possessed of a liberty which they may make an improper use of?

“You see, my dear, to what inconveniencies you have been exposed: these are the necessary consequences of your unprotected state; there is no doubt but you would repel every attempt to the prejudice of your honour: but does not modesty, if not virtue, suffer by such attempts? and can you acquit yourself of imprudence, when you reflect that you have thrown yourself into a situation which renders you liable to them?”

“It was indeed,” said Henrietta, who, by her blushes and confusion, acknowledged the strength of her reasons, “imprudence to throw myself into this situation, but it would be guilt to continue in it. Oh! that I had had such a friend as you to advise with at Windsor, I should never have taken a step, which I blush to think of now. I will return to my aunt, Mrs. Willis, I will throw myself upon her mercy; and if I must be made a sacrifice of—”

“Indeed, my dear (interrupted Mrs. Willis) these fears are groundless: you cannot possibly be married against your consent; and you have it always in your power to refuse. As for the convent, you cannot be cheated into it, that is certain, since you know she had such a design, and may guard against it.”

“But suppose (said miss Courteney) that she should not receive me again; Mr. Damer found her inexorable.”

“Ah! my dear,” replied Mrs. Willis, shaking her head, “Mr. Damer was not a fit person to be trusted with such a negotiation: but, however that may be, I am sure, when your aunt knows in what manner he has acted, and the reasons you have to distrust him, she will think it necessary to take you out of his hands. Your return to her will remove her suspicions against you, and convince her that it was from a sudden impulse of fear only, that you left her; and that you had no desire of disposing of yourself contrary to her inclinations.”

“But I have one favour to beg of you (said miss Courteney) and that is, that you will go along with me to my aunt; resentment may shut her ears to all that I can say to her, but I think she cannot resist your pleas, urged with that good sense you possess in so high a degree.”

“Doubt not, my dear (said Mrs. Willis) but I am ready to do you any service in my power.”

“What hinders us then from going directly?” cried Henrietta, eagerly; “we can get a post-chaise, and—”

“The day is too far advanced (replied Mrs. Willis) we will, if you please, set out early to-morrow morning, I will take care to have a post-chaise in readiness; in the mean time you may depend upon being secure from any disagreeable visits here, neither Mr. Damer nor his fury of a wife shall see you, unless you desire they should.”

“Notwithstanding the treatment she gave me (said miss Courteney) I would rather see her than him; but you may well imagine, Mrs. Willis, that I do not wish to see either of them.”

“Make yourself easy, my dear (said Mrs. Willis) you shall meet with no insult of any kind in my house.”

Henrietta embraced her with tears of gratitude, which the good woman returned with a parental tenderness, and then left her to give the necessary directions for their little journey the next day.

END of VOL. I.