Farther continuation of the history.
The marquis, as soon as he entered his chamber, perceived that something extraordinary had happened to him.
“Sure, (said he, smiling) you have met with some strange adventure, Freeman; you look pleased, and yet there is a thoughtful air in your countenance.”
“I have had an adventure indeed,” replied Mr. Courteney (entering abruptly into an affair which could not be concealed from him) “I have met with my sister here in Paris.”
“Your sister!” repeated the marquis; “you did not expect her, did you?”
“No, faith,” replied Mr. Courteney; “nor did I know her when I saw her.”
“That is not surprising,” said the marquis; “she was very young when you parted, I have heard you say: I hope you will allow me to pay my respects to her; but (added he, impatiently) how does miss Belmour and her fair friend?”
“Her fair friend, as you are pleased to call her (replied Mr. Courteney) is my sister, whom for so many weeks I have seen almost every day without knowing her.”
“Is it possible! (cried the marquis, surprised) miss Benson your sister! Sure you are not in earnest.”
“Indeed I am (said Mr. Courteney) I discovered her by the oddest accident: miss Belmour herself did not know who she was; but while I was there, she brought her a letter, which had been inclosed to her; it was directed for miss Courteney, and came from Mr. Damer, my sister’s guardian: she owned the name, and by that means I found out my sister. I see you are astonished (added Mr. Courteney) poor Henrietta has told me all her story; the repetition would be tedious, but—”
“How can you think so?” interrupted the marquis, eagerly: “can you doubt that I am extremely interested in every thing that concerns you.”
“Excuse me, my dear marquis (said Mr. Courteney) I really cannot enter into particulars just now—Fortune still persecutes my dear father in his children. I thought my sister was happily settled with her aunt lady Meadows, who has no child, and adopted her; but the old lady, being a rigid Roman catholic, pressed her very much to change her religion, and was at last so strangely influenced by an artful priest, who is her chaplain, that she had formed a design to send my sister under the conduct of this fellow, to be shut up in a nunnery. The poor girl, who was, as I can collect by her account, extremely apprehensive of being so entirely in the power of this sly priest, had no way to avoid this misfortune, but by leaving her aunt privately, who absolutely refused to be reconciled to her on any other condition than her changing her religion. Thus deserted, her guardian being abroad, and having nothing to expect from her relations, she chose to go to service, and was recommended to miss Belmour, by the countess of ——, her kinswoman.”
“What a wretch must your uncle be!” said the marquis, with tears in his eyes, “to permit such excellence—” He stopped a moment; then suddenly grasping his hand, “O my dear Freeman (pursued he) you have it in your power to make me happy—You know how ardently I love your charming sister—”
“This I was apprehensive of,” interrupted Mr. Courteney. “I beg, my lord, that you will banish these thoughts.”
“What!” cried the marquis, hastily; “have you any objection to my passion for your sister?”
“Indeed I have, and a very strong one,” replied Mr. Courteney, “and that is the certainty of the duke your father’s disapprobation of it.”
“It is possible indeed,” said the marquis, after a little pause, “that in the choice of a wife for me, my father will be influenced by the same motives that most fathers are: he will expect a large fortune with the person I marry; therefore, my dear Charles, you see the necessity there is for not consulting him in this case.”
“Sure you forget, my lord,” interrupted Mr. Courteney, coolly, “what you once declared, that you would never enter into an engagement of this kind, contrary to the duke’s inclinations.”
“I remember I said so (replied the marquis); and were I to make a choice which he could reasonably object to, certainly it would be wrong, very wrong to disobey him: but if the want of a fortune can make my father disapprove of my affection for a young lady of miss Courteney’s birth and merit, must I be governed by such sordid motives?”
The marquis went on to prove, by a great many arguments common enough on such occasions, that in the article of marriage, a parent had no right to lay any restraint upon the inclinations of his child. Mr. Courteney did not think proper to enter into a dispute with him upon this subject: the patience with which he listened to him, made the young nobleman conclude he was not unwilling to come into his measures.
“My dear Charles (added he, after a short pause) will you not be my advocate with your charming sister? I die with impatience to throw myself at her feet, and offer her my heart and hand.”
“You cannot doubt, my lord (said Mr. Courteney) but that I think my sister highly honoured by the esteem you express for her; but she would be very unworthy of it, if she was capable of admitting your addresses, either unknown to your father, or in opposition to his will. I may venture to answer for her, that she will not, by so unjustifiable a conduct, expose her brother to censure: and it gives me great concern to find you are no better acquainted with my sentiments, than to imagine I will so basely betray the trust the duke has reposed in me, and be accessary to your disposing of yourself in a manner which I am very sure he will not approve.”
“Then I am to expect nothing from your friendship on this occasion, Mr. Courteney!” replied the marquis, with an air of displeasure: “you are determined to raise difficulties to my design, instead of removing them; is this acting like a man whom I have loved like a brother, and whom it would be my highest happiness to call so.”
“To call you brother with your father’s consent, my lord (said Mr. Courteney) is an honour I cannot hope for, and which without it I do not wish.”
“As noble and disinterested as you imagine this conduct to be (said the marquis, rising) it will have another name perhaps with persons less romantic in their notions than you are. However, sir, you are no more than the brother of miss Courteney; if I am happy enough to prevail with her to receive my addresses, I shall not think your consent necessary.” He passed by him with a cool bow, as he pronounced these words, and retired to his own chamber.