Not too much of that, however, fairest, thought I!
The Captain repeated his resolution of service, and that in so acceptable
a manner, that the dear creature wished that neither he, nor any of his,
might ever want a friend of equal benevolence.
Nor any of this, she said; for the Captain brought it in, that he had
five children living, by one of the best wives and mothers, whose
excellent management made him as happy as if his eight hundred pounds a
year (which was all he had to boast of) were two thousand.
Without economy, the oracular lady said, no estate was large enough.
With it, the least was not too small.
Lie still, teasing villain! lie still.--I was only speaking to my
conscience, Jack.
And let me ask you, Mr. Lovelace, said the Captain; yet not so much from
doubt, as that I may proceed upon sure grounds--You are willing to
co-operate with my dear friend in a general reconciliation?
Let me tell you, Mr. Tomlinson, that if it can be distinguished, that my
readiness to make up with a family, of whose generosity I have not had
reason to think highly, is entirely owing to the value I have for this
angel of a woman, I will not only co-operate with Mr. John Harlowe, as
you ask; but I will meet with Mr. James Harlowe senior, and his lady, all
the way. And furthermore, to make the son James and his sister Arabella
quite easy, I will absolutely disclaim any further interest, whether
living or dying, in any of the three brothers' estates; contenting myself
with what my beloved's grandfather had bequeathed to her: for I have
reason to be abundantly satisfied with my own circumstances and
prospects--enough rewarded, were she not to bring a shilling in dowry, in
a woman who has a merit superior to all the goods of fortune.--True as
the Gospel, Belford!--Why had not this scene a real foundation?
The dear creature, by her eyes, expressed her gratitude, before her lips
could utter it. O Mr. Lovelace, said she--you have infinitely--And there
she stopt.
The Captain run over in my praise. He was really affected.
O that I had not such a mixture of revenge and pride in my love, thought
I!--But, (my old plea,) cannot I make her amends at any time? And is not
her virtue now in the height of its probation?--Would she lay aside, like
the friends of my uncontending Rosebud, all thoughts of defiance--Would
she throw herself upon my mercy, and try me but one fortnight in the life
of honour--What then?--I cannot say, What then--
Do not despise me, Jack, for my inconsistency--in no two letters perhaps
agreeing with myself--Who expects consistency in men of our
character?--But I am mad with love--fired by revenge--puzzled with my own
devices--my invention is my curse--my pride my punishment--drawn five or
six ways at once, can she possibly be so unhappy as I?--O why, why, was
this woman so divinely excellent!--Yet how know I that she is? What have
been her trials? Have I had the courage to make a single one upon her
person, though a thousand upon her temper?--Enow, I hope, to make her
afraid of ever more disobliging me more!--
***
I must banish reflection, or I am a lost man. For these two hours past
have I hated myself for my own contrivances. And this not only from what
I have related to thee; but for what I have further to relate. But I
have now once more steeled my heart. My vengeance is uppermost; for I
have been reperusing some of Miss Howe's virulence. The contempt they
have both held me in I cannot bear.
The happiest breakfast-time, my beloved owned, that she had ever known
since she had left her father's house. [She might have let this alone.]
The Captain renewed all his protestations of service. He would write me
word how his dear friend received the account he should give him of the
happy situation of our affairs, and what he thought of the settlements,
as soon as I should send him the draughts so kindly promised. And we
parted with great professions of mutual esteem; my beloved putting up
vows for the success of his generous mediation.
When I returned from attending the Captain down stairs, which I did to
the outward door, my beloved met me as I entered the dining-room;
complacency reigning in every lovely feature.
'You see me already,' said she, 'another creature. You know not, Mr.
Lovelace, how near my heart this hoped-for reconciliation is. I am now
willing to banish every disagreeable remembrance. You know not, Sir, how
much you have obliged me. And O Mr. Lovelace, how happy I shall be, when
my heart is lightened from the all-sinking weight of a father's curse!
When my dear mamma--You don't know, Sir, half the excellencies of my dear
mamma! and what a kind heart she has, when it is left to follow its own
impulses--When this blessed mamma shall once more fold me to her
indulgent bosom! When I shall again have uncles and aunts, and a brother
and sister, all striving who shall show most kindness and favour to the
poor outcast, then no more an outcast--And you, Mr. Lovelace, to behold
all this, with welcome--What though a little cold at first? when they
come to know you better, and to see you oftener, no fresh causes of
disgust occurring, and you, as I hope, having entered upon a new course,
all will be warmer and warmer love on both sides, till every one will
perhaps wonder, how they came to set themselves against you.'
Then drying her tears with her handkerchief, after a few moments pausing,
on a sudden, as if recollecting that she had been led by her joy to an
expression of it which she had not intended I should see, she retired to
her chamber with precipitation; leaving me almost as unable to stand it
as herself.
In short, I was--I want words to say how I was--my nose had been made to
tingle before; my eyes have before been made to glisten by this
soul-moving beauty; but so very much affected, I never was--for, trying
to check my sensibility, it was too strong for me, and I even sobbed--
Yes, by my soul, I audibly sobbed, and was forced to turn from her before
she had well finished her affecting speech.
I want, methinks, now I have owned the odd sensation, to describe it to
thee--the thing was so strange to me--something choking, as it were, in
my throat--I know not how--yet, I must needs say, though I am out of
countenance upon the recollection, that there was something very pretty
in it; and I wish I could know it again, that I might have a more perfect
idea of it, and be better able to describe it to thee.
But this effect of her joy on such an occasion gives me a high notion of
what that virtue must be [What other name can I call it?] which in a mind
so capable of delicate transport, should be able to make so charming a
creature, in her very bloom, all frost and snow to every advance of love
from the man she hates not. This must be all from education too--Must it
not, Belford? Can education have stronger force in a woman's heart than
nature?--Sure it cannot. But if it can, how entirely right are parents
to cultivate their daughters' minds, and to inspire them with notions of
reserve and distance to our sex: and indeed to make them think highly of
their own! for pride is an excellent substitute, let me tell thee, where
virtue shines not out, as the sun, in its own unborrowed lustre.