In which the reader, it is presumed, can make no discoveries concerning the event of this history.
The marquis, when he saw him enter his chamber, approached him with an obliging air, and affectionately pressing his hand,
“May I hope, my dear Courteney (said he) that you have overcome your fantastic scruples, and that you will favour my pretensions to your charming sister. I will make you no apology for stealing a visit to her; you would, I am sure, have done the same in my situation. Indeed, Charles, you must either resolve to give me miss Courteney, or to see me miserable. She referred me to you; my happiness depends upon a single word of your’s: can you be so cruel to refuse me this instance of your friendship?”
“You know, my lord,” replied Mr. Courteney, “that there is not any thing you can desire of me, consistent with my honour, which I would refuse; but, unless I would make myself infamous, I cannot yield to your marrying my sister without the duke’s consent. Hear what I have to propose,” continued he, perceiving him to be in a violent emotion; “let us return to England immediately. You have often told me, that the duke is a most tender father; you are an only child: it is possible he may be prevailed upon to yield to your desires, if you tell him you cannot be happy without my sister. Let us make the trial at least.”
“I agree to it,” interrupted the marquis, eagerly, “provided you will promise me, that if my father is so unreasonable as to refuse his consent, you will no longer oppose my marriage. I am of age; it is fit that, in a matter of such importance to the future happiness of my whole life, I should be at liberty to follow my inclinations. Speak, Charles, will you make me this promise?”
“Indeed, I will not, my lord,” replied Mr. Courteney, “you must not expect it.”
“Detested obstinacy!” cried the marquis, flinging his hand away, which he had held till this moment, “what a wretch am I to have my happiness depend upon the will of a capricious man, who mistakes his romantic whims for honour! But observe what I say, Courteney,” added he, turning hastily towards him, “you shall not hinder me from visiting your sister; nothing but her absolute commands shall prevent my seeing her.”
“My sister (said Mr. Courteney) will stay no longer in France, than till Mr. Damer (to whose care her mother left her at her death) returns from Montpelier: he is to conduct her to England; and she is gone to board in a convent till his arrival.”
“Gone to a convent!” repeated the marquis; “this is your scheme, I suppose.”
“I hoped to prevail upon you,” said Mr. Courteney, “since you are quite recovered, to leave Paris immediately; and I thought a convent the properest place for my sister to reside in till her guardian comes.”
The marquis instantly running over in his thoughts the use that might be made of this intelligence, replied, that he had no inclination to leave Paris yet; and broke off all farther conversation by quitting the room.
In effect, he had resolved to make an application to Mr. Damer, supposing, that since he had not the same foundation for scruples as his governor, he would readily listen to an offer so advantageous for his ward.
Mr. Courteney penetrated into his views, and doubtful how Mr. Damer would act, and whether his sister, having the sanction of his approbation, might not give way to the motions of her own heart, and encourage the addresses of the marquis; he concluded it necessary to make the duke acquainted with the whole affair, that he might take such measures as he judged proper to restrain his son from an action which would incur his displeasure.
He wrote accordingly that day, and having thus discharged his duty, his mind was more at ease.
The marquis, full of hope that his new scheme would be successful, made no effort to see Henrietta, for fear of raising suspicions in her brother: but the coldness and reserve with which he treated him, sufficiently shewed how much he resented his conduct.
Henrietta was soon reconciled to a retirement, in which she had full liberty to indulge her reflections; for she was in love enough to find more satisfaction in being alone, than in the gayest and most agreeable society. Her brother did not fail to visit her every day: he found her satisfied with her situation; and, in appearance, no otherwise affected with his approaching departure, which he gave her room to expect, than what her tenderness for him might well allow of.
In the mean time the duke of ——, having received Mr. Courteney’s letter, was greatly pleased with the nobleness and generosity of his behaviour. He wrote to him immediately, in terms of the highest friendship and regard; and, acquainting him with the purport of his letter to his son, recommended it to him to hasten his departure, assuring him, he had the firmest reliance upon his integrity and honour.
The packet, to avoid suspicion, had been directed as usual to the marquis, who was not surprised to find a letter in it for Mr. Courteney, to whom his father was accustomed to write often: he sent it to him immediately; and, after reading his own, he went to Mr. Courteney’s chamber, holding it still in his hand.
“My father writes to me (said he) to leave Paris as soon as possible. He does not expressly say that he is ill; but, from some hints in his letter, I can collect that this is the cause of his extreme earnestness to see me. You cannot imagine how much I am affected with this accident (pursued he, sighing). I love my father: I did not know how much I loved him, till I feared his loss. I am determined to set out to-morrow from Paris; but I must see your sister first, Courteney, nor ought you to refuse me the satisfaction of telling her, that I depart with a firm resolution never to be but her’s.”
“Well, my lord,” replied Mr. Courteney, after a little pause, “we will go together, and take leave of my sister.”
“I was to blame (said the marquis) to expect any indulgence from you; we will go together then, since it must be so.” He retired again to his own apartment to write to his father; and in the mean time Mr. Courteney gave the necessary orders for their journey the next morning.
Henrietta had been prepared by a billet from her brother, for the visit that was intended her. The news of their departure had cost her some tears; but when she was informed they waited for her in the parlour of the convent, she appeared before them with all that soft composure and dignity of manners, which never forsook her in the most trying situations.
Mr. Courteney watched the turn of her countenance when the marquis accosted her, and was pleased to see it equally free from embarrassment and affectation; and that, notwithstanding all the expressive language of her lover’s eyes, she had so much command over herself, as to seem the least interested person in the company.
Politeness obliged the marquis to shorten his visit, that the brother and sister might be at liberty to take a private leave of each other. He rose from his seat, and approached Henrietta, with an air that left her no room to doubt of his intention to say something particular to her; and now, for the first time, her looks betrayed some little confusion.
“I cannot go away, madam (said he) without renewing the declaration I made you some days ago; and I take this opportunity to assure you, before your brother, who knows the sincerity of my heart, that my sentiments for you will ever be the same: and, if you do not forbid it, I will carry away with me the dear hope of being able one day to merit your esteem.”
Henrietta courtesied in silence; but her blushes, and the soft confusion she was in, seemed no unfavourable omen for the marquis: he bowed respectfully, and retired.
Mr. Courteney, affecting not to perceive his sister’s concern, entered immediately after his pupil’s departure into other discourse. He recommended it to her to improve her guardian’s esteem for her, and assured her he would visit lady Meadows, and use his utmost endeavours to remove her prejudices, and restore her to the place she formerly held in her affection: at her desire likewise he promised to call upon Mrs. Willis, to whom she had been so greatly obliged. He charged her to keep up no sort of intimacy with miss Belmour, though she should seek it, but permitted her, in company with Mr. Damer, to pay her a farewel visit; and, indeed, the conduct of that young lady, since the arrival of Mr. Morley, justified these precautions.
Henrietta promised to follow all his directions. He said a thousand affectionate things to her; and then, desiring to see the superiour, he tenderly recommended his sister to her care; took a short leave, and went home; while Henrietta retired to her chamber to weep.
The marquis was not visible till the next morning, when he was informed that the post-chaise was at the door. His extreme melancholy during the whole journey, gave his governor great concern: but he in vain attempted to amuse him; for though the marquis behaved to him with all imaginable respect, yet he was so cold and reserved, that he found it impossible to renew his former freedom with him.
The duke of —— had informed them, that he should be at his country-seat; and, immediately upon their landing in England, they repaired thither: the duke received his son with the most tender transports, and his governor with every mark of esteem and regard.
The morning after their arrival, he sent for Mr. Courteney into his closet, and thanked him in very affectionate terms for having so faithfully and honourably discharged his trust. He politely avoided mentioning the affair of the young lord’s passion for his sister, because she was his sister; but said enough to convince him, that he had the most grateful sense of his disinterested conduct upon that occasion. He settled on him, during his life, the sum he had allowed him while he travelled with the marquis; and offered him, in the most cordial manner, all his interest towards procuring him an establishment suitable to his birth.
Mr. Courteney received these instances of the duke’s friendship for him with respect and gratitude; but he was more touched with the old nobleman’s delicacy with regard to his sister, than with all the favours conferred on himself.
The interest of this sister, whom he loved with the most tender affection, made him hasten his departure from the duke’s seat, that he might wait on his aunt, who he had heard was in London. The duke embraced him tenderly at parting, and obliged him to promise that he would return as soon as possible. The marquis lost all his reserve and coldness, when he took leave of his governor, his friend, and, what was more than all, the brother of his adored Henrietta.
“You have used me unkindly,” said he in a low voice; yet pressing him tenderly to his breast, “but I shall always love you.”
Mr. Courteney let fall some tears, but made no answer; and immediately after mounting his horse, he set out for London, attended by his own servant, and one of the duke’s, whom his grace had ordered to escort him.