In which lord B—— shews himself a true modern lover.
Henrietta, before she went home, waited upon lady D——, to acquaint her that she had left Mrs. Autumn. She avoided mentioning that lady’s peculiarities which had made it impossible to please her; but with great simplicity related the error she had been guilty of, and the suspicions she had incurred by it, which occasioned her dismission.
Lady D—— diverted herself for some time with the extreme delicacy of her whimsical friend, and then told Henrietta, that having still a good opinion of her prudence and modesty, notwithstanding the reasons Mrs. Autumn had to suspect her, she would place her about a young lady, a relation of her own.
Henrietta thanked her in very respectful terms, and took her leave, after she had, at lady D——’s desire, left her a direction to her lodgings, that she might know where to send for her when it was necessary.
At her return, she found the faithful Mrs. Willis full of anxious impatience to hear the success of her visit to the earl. Henrietta, thro’ respect to her uncle, concealed the greatest part of his discourse to her, but owned that she had no expectations from him.
Mrs. Willis shrugged up her shoulders: “Then it was as you suspected (said she) your uncle has proposed some absurd match to you, and you have forfeited his future favour by not complying with it.”
“You will be surprised to hear that lord B—— has made an application to my uncle,” said Henrietta.
“Surprised!” repeated Mrs. Willis; “why, to be sure, considering how your affairs are circumstanced, this is a generous way of proceeding. Well, I hope you begin now to have a favourable opinion both of his love and honour.”
“I am sure I think highly of his prudence,” replied Henrietta, smiling: “only mark the caution with which he acts in this affair; my poverty gave him hopes that I should be an easy conquest, and that passion which first manifested itself in an open attempt upon my honour, sought afterwards to allure me with bribes. It is not strange that persons who hold money to be the greatest good, should think it more than an equivalent for virtue. Here, however, he was disappointed again, to his great astonishment, no doubt, and marriage is this honourable lover’s last resource; but this he does not offer till he is sure I shall have a fortune, if not equal to that of my rival the packer’s daughter, yet at least sufficient to justify his choice in the opinion of the prudential part of the world; and perhaps he expects I should purchase the mighty blessing of his hand by the sacrifice, the temporary sacrifice at least of those principles, for which I have already suffered so much.”
“Have you any reason for this shocking suspicion?” interrupted Mrs. Willis.
“I think I have,” replied Henrietta: “a reconciliation with my aunt is, it seems, a necessary preliminary to his addresses; and yet he heard from myself upon what condition that reconciliation could only be effected.” Henrietta, suddenly interrupting herself, cried out, “There he is; there is lord B——.”
“Where? where?” said Mrs. Willis, running to the window. “It is certainly he,” said Henrietta, “he passed by in a chair.”
That instant they heard a loud rap at the door.
“As I live,” cried Mrs. Willis (in a violent flutter) “he has come to visit you. I hope you will see him, miss Courteney; hear what he has to say, pray do; there can be no harm in that, I am sure.”
“Well, well,” said Henrietta, smiling at her solicitude; “I will see him; let him be shewn into the other parlour, if you please.”
Mrs. Willis, curious to see this young lord, went herself to open the door. He bolted out of the chair; and, with a look and accent full of impatience, asked her, if the young lady that lodged there was at home?
“Miss Courteney, sir?” said Mrs. Willis.
“Yes,” replied he, hastily; “is she at home, can I see her? Pray tell her a gentleman from —— enquires for her.”
Mrs. Willis desired him to walk into the parlour, said she would acquaint the young lady with his being there; and a few moments afterwards Henrietta appeared.
Lord B—— flew to meet her, with the air of a lover conscious of the right he had to be well received; and, taking her hand, which he respectfully kissed,
“Now,” cried he, exultingly, “can you doubt the ardor of my passion for you? and will you not at length confess that it is possible for a man to deserve you?”
“Certainly, my lord,” replied Henrietta, “it is very possible.”
“May I perish if I think so (said he) but how poorly would words express my adoration of you! Judge of the purity, the ardor of my love, by what I have done to make you mine—Have you not seen your uncle, miss Courteney?”
“I have, my lord,” replied Henrietta.
“You have!” repeated his lordship; “and in that grave cold accent too. Surely my sentiments and designs are still unknown to you: it is impossible else that you should be thus insensible, nay ungrateful, I will say—for I have given no common proofs of love, I think.”
“Indeed, my lord” replied Henrietta, who had a mind to teaze this generous lover a little, “you shall not suffer for your noble disinterestedness—you shall not resign miss Cordwain and her immense fortune for me.”
“Name not her fortune,” cried lord B——; “were it millions I would refuse it for you.”
“Nay, now your lordship is quite romantic,” said Henrietta, “to prefer to a rich heiress an unhappy young woman, deserted by her relations, and reduced to seek a subsistence by her labour.”
“Call not my passion romantic,” interrupted lord B——, “because it soars above common conceptions: a mind so elevated as yours might give it a juster epithet.”
“Were my aunt,” pursued Henrietta, “to leave me her whole estate, you would still make no inconsiderable sacrifice by quitting miss Cordwain for me, since my fortune would then be inferior to her’s. But you know, my lord, I have no expectations from lady Meadows: I have declared to my uncle the hard conditions upon which she offers to make me her heir, conditions that I never will accept of; and therefore I may well call your passion romantic, when, under such circumstances, you could think of making an application to my uncle.”
“To be sure, madam,” said lord B——, whose countenance expressed at once surprise, confusion, and disappointment—“I did apply to the earl, not personally indeed. I contrived it so that a friend of mine, who is very intimate with his lordship, should give him a hint of your situation, and the sentiments I entertained for you: and, from the account my friend gave me of his success in his negotiation, I conceived that you might be prevailed upon—that is, that you would consider—For might I not hope, my dear miss Courteney, that you would not be insensible of my affection.”
Here his lordship paused, and looked on Henrietta with a languishing air, seeming to wish and expect that her tenderness would spare him a further explanation; but our fair heroine, who did not chuse to collect his meaning from the abrupt and unconnected sentences he had uttered, continued maliciously silent, as if she waited for the end of his discourse.
“I see (resumed he) that I have not been happy enough to inspire you with any tender sentiments for me. Pardon me, miss Courteney, but I must be so free as to tell you that if you were not prepossessed in favour of another person, the proofs I have given you of my affection would not be received with such indifference.”
“There needs not any such prepossession,” replied Henrietta, vexed at this hint, “to make me receive with indifference the proofs you have hitherto given me of that affection your lordship boasts of. Am I to reckon among these proofs, my lord, the insult you offered me at Mrs. Eccles’s, and the strange declaration you made me in the country?”
“Ah, how cruel is this recapitulation now!” cried lord B——: “do I not do justice to your birth, your beauty and virtue, by my present honourable intentions?”
“It is not enough for me, my lord,” said Henrietta, “that your intentions are honourable now; to have merited my esteem, they should always have been so: but, to speak plainly, I am still doubtful of your intentions.”
“Doubtful still of my intentions!” repeated lord B——: “have I not declared them to your uncle, madam? have I not solicited his interest with you?”
“Suppose that obtained, my lord,” said Henrietta, “and that it has all the weight with me you could wish.”
“Why then we shall be happy, my angel,” cried he, taking her hand, and pressing it to his lips. “You will be reconciled to your aunt, and I may hope for my father’s consent to our union.”
“A reconciliation with my aunt is impossible,” said Henrietta, withdrawing her hand.
“Say not that it is impossible,” replied lord B——, “but that you have not complaisance enough for me to attempt it.”
“Did I not know it to be impossible,” resumed Henrietta, “I would attempt it for my own sake; but nothing less than the sacrifice of my religion will satisfy my aunt: on this condition indeed she promises to settle her whole estate upon me; I think I once told your lordship so.”
“You did, my dear miss Courteney,” interrupted lord B——; “and I adore you for your steady adherence to your principles.”
Henrietta was a little startled at so unexpected a declaration; but lord B—— did not suffer her to remain long in the error his last words had occasioned.
“If lady Meadows was not such a bigot,” pursued he, “excuse my freedom, miss, we might expect that she would receive my proposals with pleasure, and make such concessions in favour of her niece, as might engage my father’s consent to our marriage: but since this is hopeless, is it reasonable that you should be the victim of her obstinancy? By seeming only to comply with your aunt’s desires, all obstacles to our union will be removed; a temporary compliance is all that is necessary to secure to you a fortune, and a rank in life suitable to your birth. Do not imagine that I wish to see you a proselyte to the religion she professes: no, if any thing could weaken my passion, your being capable of such a change, upon interested motives, would do it. I love you; I repeat it again, I love you for your piety.”
“Then, to be sure, my lord,” replied Henrietta, “you think that a little dissimulation in this case would be a virtue.”
“In your circumstances,” resumed lord B——, “it certainly would; for while your principles are unchanged, what do you sacrifice, in yielding to your aunt, but externals only? this sacrifice your interest, your happiness demands of you: let me add also that you owe it to a man who loves you with the ardor I do. And surely, to industriously seek occasions of suffering for a religion, which, if you could be contented with secretly professing, you would be happy yourself, and make others happy also, is to give the world reason to suspect that ostentation has a greater share in your resolves than piety. Therefore, my dear miss Courteney, you see it is not the sacrifice of your religion that I require of you, but of the reputation of suffering for it.”
“Well, my lord,” replied Henrietta, who had listened to him with great calmness, “if ever I was in doubt of your intentions, you have clearly explained them now; of them, and of the sentiments you have avowed, you may collect my opinion, when I declare to you, that if you had worlds to bestow on me, I would not be your wife.”
“Is this your resolution, miss Courteney?” said his lordship.
“It is, my lord (she replied). A resolution justifiable upon your own great principle interest. It is my interest I consult, when I prefer poverty and servitude to the fortune my aunt can give me; because the silent testimony of a quiet conscience is, in my opinion, of infinitely more value than riches. It is interest by which I am influenced, when I refuse your offered alliance, because I am sure I could not be happy with a man whom I cannot esteem.”
“Hold, madam, hold,” interrupted lord B——, “this is too much: I have not deserved this treatment, but I thank you for it; yes, from my soul I thank you for it: it has helped to restore my senses; I have been foolish, very foolish, I confess.”
His lordship indeed looked foolish enough when he pronounced these words, which were succeeded by a pause of several minutes: then suddenly starting from his seat, and bowing with an affected negligence,
“The best apology I can make, madam (said he) for the importunate visit I have paid you, is to assure you I never will repeat it.”
Henrietta courtesied gravely without answering him; and having rung the bell for a servant to attend him to the door, went into the room where her friend was sitting. Lord B—— stopped, looked back, and, finding she had withdrawn, he rushed out hastily, and flung himself into his chair, glad of his escape, and congratulating himself upon the victory he had gained over his passion; for, in the first emotions of his grief at parting, he had almost resolved to declare he would marry her without any fortune: but her disappearing so suddenly, gave him time for a moment’s reflection, and that was sufficient to hinder him from being guilty of an imprudence which he now trembled at the thoughts of.
It is so difficult for mean and selfish persons to conceive that any thing but private advantage can influence the resolutions of others, that notwithstanding the proof Henrietta had given of her attachment to her religion, and her inviolable regard to truth, yet still lord B—— supposed there must be some other latent motive for a conduct, in his opinion, highly ridiculous, and very inconsistent with that good sense which it was apparent she possessed.
Sometimes he fancied he had a rival; and then, to clear a doubt so tormenting, he was upon the point of returning to her to offer her his hand upon her own conditions: but his avarice restrained him from making so dangerous a trial: she might accept his offer; and with all the passion he felt for her, he could not resolve to marry her without a fortune.
To stifle a thought which suggested to him designs so destructive to his interest, he endeavoured to persuade himself that her obstinancy, in refusing to temporize a little when such mighty advantages were in view, was the effect of female vanity, which sought distinction at the expence of solid happiness. In this opinion he was confirmed by his friend, whom he had employed to sound the earl her uncle with regard to his proposals, and to whom he now communicated the result of his interview with Henrietta.
“Depend upon it,” said this sagacious person, “your goddess will descend from her romantic flights, when she finds she has almost soared out of human ken; and is much more likely to be laughed at for her extravagant folly, than admired and applauded for her extraordinary piety. Follow my advice (pursued he) suffer your mistress to believe you have broke her chains; if interest does not make her wish to recal you, vanity will. Few women can endure that a lover should escape them; and, to recover their influence, they often make concessions, which, in the zenith of their power, they would have thought impossible.”
Lord B—— improved a little upon his friend’s scheme, and resolved to continue his addresses to miss Cordwain, to pique Henrietta, he said; but in reality, he was as much in love with her fortune, as with the person of our fair heroine; and was not willing to hazard the loss of the one, while it was yet doubtful whether he should ever possess the other.