What was the meaning, then, said he, that you never called, or sent to
her? _She_ had no resentment to you, though _I_ had.
Dear Sir George, ask me no more questions. I thought it had been
premised that we were not to talk of the past.
I see, Sidney, answered he, there is something you have no mind to
explain; you know I love and respect my wife, and that I cannot easily
be brought to take any thing ill of her; but she was so extremely
earnest with me not to ask you any questions, that it made me suspect
there was something she had a mind to conceal from me. What confirms me
in this opinion is, that as I know you are ingenuous and open to
conviction you would have made me some apology for a neglect both of me
and Lady Sarah, which, you could not but suppose, offended me, if you
had not looked upon yourself as by much the most injured Person.
You urge me very home, brother; I thought I was injured when you
disclaimed all relationship to me, if I did not comply in a certain
particular, which I was not at liberty to do.
I _was_ very angry with you, said he, but should not have carried my
resentment any lengths after my mother's death, if you had made any
concession, or desired to throw yourself under my protection, instead of
a stranger's, for Lady V---- comparatively is one. I could not suppose
you were in immediate want of my assistance, as I understand my mother's
private purse was not inconsiderable, and to tell you the truth, I was
resolved till you did condescend to inform me of your situation, not to
give myself any pain about you.
I can only tell you in two words, Sir George, that you have been
extremely misled in regard to me; I wish not to revive so disagreeable a
subject, pray say no more of it.
But one word more, said he, just for my own satisfaction, and then I
have done: was Lady Sarah made acquainted with your circumstances? You
must have lived in miserable obscurity to be so long in London without
my knowlege.
You love and respect your wife, brother; you must not take any thing ill
of her.
I am answered he replied: He walked about the room, and I could see he
was ashamed and affected.
You will make me very unhappy, Sir George, said I, if you resent any
thing on my account to your lady; she did not think perhaps that things
were quite so bad with me as they really were; but if she heard (which
by the way I knew was an invention of her own) that my mother left any
thing behind her, she was deceived, there really was nothing. But let us
call another subject.--When did you hear from Mr Faulkland? It is some
time since I have had a letter from his lady.
His lady he repeated, and stamping with his foot, cursed be hour which
gave her that title!
Dear Sir George, you shock me! how can you be so uncharitable, so
unchristian?
If you know her as well as _I_ do, said he--and shook his head.
You are so strong in your indignation against her, I replied, that you
almost make me suspect that you _do_ know more of her than I do; her
weakness in regard to Mr Faulkland excepted; I could never entertain an
ill thought of her; but you have raised a curiosity, which, though I
tremble to have it gratified, yet I must beg you to speak out.
Do not think me malicious, Sidney, said he, a woman's reputation is too
sacred a thing to be trifled with; if her weakness, as you call it, had
been confined to Mr Faulkland, _hers_ should be so with me: but I cannot
think with temper on the sacrifice that noble fellow has been forced to
make to caprice.
Dear brother, explain yourself, you terrify me.
My heat on this occasion, he answered, would be unjustifiable, if I had
not _proof_ for what I say; Miss Burchell, for I will not call her by my
friend's name, is that monster, a female libertine, a rake in the worst
sense of the word.
Monstrous! cried I, your prejudice makes you believe every cruel tale
you may have heard.--
_Heard_, he interrupted with an indignant smile, the d--l's in it if I
have not more than hear-say for my knowledge.
Lord! brother, you make me shudder, what do you mean?
He replied, you will not believe me perhaps when I tell you that _I_ am
as much obliged to Miss Burchell's favour, as Mr Faulkland was.
If Sir George had plunged a dagger in my heart, I could not have felt a
sharper pang. He saw me struck with amazement and grief.
I knew it would shock you, said he, but you extorted the secret from me;
for a secret it has, and ever should have remained, but in my own
justification you compelled me to disclose it.
You know, said he, that from the first I never considered Faulkland's
engagement to her, as a serious one, nor in any shape binding: this
judgment I formed without knowing any thing of the woman, but from
Faulkland's own representation of the fact; tho' to say the truth, he
always spoke of her with more tenderness than she deserved, and imputing
her frailty to her love of him, was, as most men are apt to do on such
occasions, disposed to judge favourably of her. The first time I saw her
was at Sidney-castle; that time when my mother invited her, and when,
you may remember, I went down there in compliment to my mother. I own I
thought her extremely agreeable, which was alone sufficient, to make me
a little more than barely polite; but my mother's extraordinary
attachment to her, engaged me to go still farther, and to oblige her, I
was more than ordinarily attentive to please Miss Burchell. When I
assure you upon my honour that I had no farther views, I believe you
will not doubt my veracity; but whether Miss Burchell mistook my
civilities for fondness, or whether, as I rather believe, her natural
disposition was so loose that every man she saw lighted up a flame in
her heart, I know not; but certain it was, she made me such advances
that I must have been extremely stupid not to have understood her, and
absolutely frozen to have repelled her.
My good mother's unsuspecting temper permitted us too many
opportunities, and the light ones of your sex do not easily forgive the
neglect of those.
In short Miss Burchell yielded to the impetuosity of her wishes, and I
followed her lead, more through vacancy, and a want of better
employment, than out of inclination. I was very glad when she was
recalled home, for I was heartily wearied of her. The day before she
left Sidney castle, when we were alone, she said to me, I have too great
a reliance on your honour, to suppose you capable of injuring my
reputation by ever divulging what has passed between us; I am easy
therefore on that head. But there is one circumstance on which you must
give me the most solemn promise that is in your power to make, without
which I shall be the most unhappy creature in the world. I know there is
a friendship between you and Mr Faulkland, and I am not ignorant that
you men in your unreserved moments of confidence, do not scruple to
disclose such secrets as I have trusted you with; I do not fear your
imprudence with regard to any one else; but it is of the utmost
importance to me that _He_ in particular should never know what my
tenderness for you has led me into. You know I have a son by him; he has
hitherto provided liberally for the child's maintenance; and to let you
into a secret, which nobody besides must know, I myself am indebted to
him for the principal part of my support; though he, as well as the rest
of the world, believe that I have a fortune. Now though I do not
entertain the least hope, nor indeed wish, ever to be Mr Faulkland's
wife, yet would it be of terrible consequence to me to forfeit his
regard, which you may naturally suppose would be the case if he were to
come to the knowlege of what has happened. He has given me to understand
by his house-keeper that when he comes to England he will provide for
me; the woman hinted something like a design of his making a handsome
establishment for any worthy man of whom I should make choice;
insinuating at the same time that this depended on my conduct. I have no
thoughts of marrying, but as mine and my child's future welfare must be
chiefly owing to Mr Faulkland, you see the necessity there is for my
preserving his good opinion. For this reason then, my dear Sir George,
you must swear to me that you will never betray me to him.
The reasons were so plausible, and the request so natural, that I made
no scruple of giving her a solemn oath to preserve the secret inviolable
from Mr Faulkland's knowledge; for so she herself worded the promise she
urged me to make: in regard to any one else, she said she was satisfied
all assurances were needless.
You see, continued my brother that by this declaration she laid me under
a double tye of secrecy. As I had no conception that Faulkland could
ever be brought to think of marrying her, I thought myself bound not to
injure her in his opinion: and therefore religiously kept my promise.
Faulkland was not then in England, but when returned, and came to visit
me at Sidney-castle, just at the time you parted from your husband, he
spoke of Miss Burchell in a manner, which though it convinced me he had
a regard for her, and wished to see her happy, yet was it far from
alarming me on his account; I therefore should have thought it the
highest baseness and cruelty to have hurt her in his esteem.
I never have had the least intercourse, either by letter, or otherwise,
with Miss Burchell, since we parted. I make no doubt but she has
dispensed her favours wherever her inclination has led her, and you see
she has had the good fortune to keep all her amours secret. But what
hope can there be that such a profligate will keep her faith to _one_
man, though that man is the most amiable in the world.
Oh brother, what a scene of iniquity have you disclosed! I would to
Heaven you had kept the horrid secret to yourself, or divulged it time
enough to have prevented the misery into which I, unhappy that I am!
have precipitated your friend. But I ought not to blame you, you acted
agreeably to the dictates of honour. Detestable woman! I cried in the
bitterness of my heart. I do not wonder at her cautioning me against
letting you into my design of urging Mr Faulkland to marry her; I then
little knew the reason you had for the opposition she said you would
give to this fatal match: every thing fell out to her wish, and
coincided to promote her successful guilt.--Your absence from London,
mine, and my mother's urgency, and the too generous yielding of our dear
unhappy Faulkland. I burst into tears--my heart was torn with anguish,
and in that instant my tenderness for him revived. Sir George strove not
to comfort me. He was too much affected himself.
I have but one hope, said I, and that is in the extraordinary love she
has for Mr Faulkland, and his uncommon merit, which may probably ensure
to him the continuance of it.
You know not what you say, answered my brother; the merit of an angel
could not secure the fidelity of such a heart as her's. Her love is
gross; a new object will always have charms for her. Had I been as
credulous as Faulkland, I should have thought myself the idol of her
soul, so lavish was she in her expressions of tenderness.
Is it not strange though, I asked, that with so loose a mind, she should
have so long preserved an attachment to Mr Faulkland? for most certainly
her affection to _him_ has at least been sincere.
Her affection to his estate, answered my brother, has, I believe, all
along been sincere: Do you not know she is a beggar?
I told him, in this she had imposed on him, to answer her own ends, in
engaging him the more firmly to keep her secret; for to my knowledge,
she has seven thousand pounds, as I was informed by Lady V----, who knew
her circumstances.
Sir George vented two or three curses on her head. I am not surprized at
any instance of her falshood, said he; she is made up of deceit. Such
characters as her's are not uncommon; but none of them ever fell in your
way before, and I hope never will again. If you will look back on her
whole conduct, however it may surprize you, you will find there is
nothing inconsistent in it. She is only a sly rake in petticoats, of
which there are numbers, that you good women would stare at, if you knew
their behaviour. She considers men just as the libertines of our sex do
women. She likes for the present; she seduces; her inclinations cool
towards an old lover, and are warmed again by a new face. She retained
not Faulkland long enough to grow tired of him, and therefore possibly
still preserved some tenderness for him; indeed his uncommon attractions
must have made an impression even on _her_ heart; but this did not
hinder her from indulging her inclinations elsewhere. You must throw
into the account too that she had by accident got a sort of hold on him,
of which, by my mother's indulgence, and some other concurring
circumstances, she hoped one day or other to avail herself. With so
pretty a person as she has, and the fortune you tell me she is mistress
of, do you think she could have failed of marrying creditably, if that
had been her view? No, no she meant not to confine herself. Her passion
for Faulkland, whether real or pretended, gave a colour to her
preserving that liberty, in the licentious use of which she placed her
happiness: nor would she in the end have confined herself within the
bounds of marriage, if an immense fortune had not sweetened the
restraint.
I pray heaven it may, answered I; 'tis all we have now to trust to. You
have given me an idea of a character, which I thought was not in the
female world.
I own, replied Sir George, I live in perpetual fears of her relapsing
into vice. A woman without principle, Sidney, is not to be relied on.
Love (if in such a breast it can merit that name) even towards the most
deserving object, is never permanent. Fear, and even shame, are subdued
by repeated crimes; what hold then remains? Interest alone (where that
happens to interfere;) but if detection can be avoided, even that can
have do farther influence.
Sir George took his leave of me, in order to go home to dress; but I was
not to say a word of his morning visit, so that I found I needed not to
be under any apprehensions of reproaching Lady Sarah with her behaviour
towards me; for he meant not to let her know he was informed of it. So
much the better; I should be extremely sorry to be the occasion of any
difference between them.
They came at the appointed hour; I entertained them magnificently; and
we were all harmony and good humour. When dinner was over, I told them,
they must not be surprized, if we should have a visit from our West
Indian relation, in the evening, for that it was very probable he would
call, and if I should be denied, he would never forgive me, as he
possibly might find it out. Lady Sarah looked frightened, and said she
would not stay; but Sir George declared he would arm himself with a few
bumpers, and stand his ground.
I affected to treat the interview with pleasantry and reconciled them
both to it; for I was really apprehensive that Mr Warner would take it
very ill, and think I betrayed him, if I let them escape. I supposed
too, that after he had indulged himself in a short triumph, all would be
over, and they might afterwards meet on better terms.
In less than half an hour, we heard a loud rap; Lady Sarah turned pale;
Sir George laughed at her, but was himself a little disconcerted. The
parlour door flew open--a footman entered--Mr Warner--and in stalked my
kinsman, with a very stately tread. He was dressed out, I assure you. A
large well powdered wig, tied with a rose; a suit of the finest
cinamon-coloured cloth, and over it a surtout of the richest mohair and
silk, with gold frogs; and a fine clouded cane, with a gold head; silk
stockings of the same colour with his coat; a fine lace-cravat, his hat
under his arm. He really looked very gentleman-like, and venerable; for
he appears older than he is.
He glanced his eyes with a supercilious scorn, over my brother and
sister, who stood up at his entrance, and making up directly to me,
saluted me, and took his place by me. A short silence ensued, which was
broken by my asking Mr Warner to drink a glass of wine. I could almost
have smiled at the embarrassment of my brother and Lady Sarah; the old
gentleman enjoyed it, and looked at them both, but as if he knew
neither. My brother had recourse to the bottle, he drank my health, and
civilly enough bowed to Mr Warner, just pronouncing the word Sir!--the
other scarce returned it by a slight inclination of his head.
At last, addressing himself to me, cousin, if you have no aversion to
tobacco, I should be glad if you would indulge me with a pipe; 'tis my
custom after dinner, but I have not smoaked yet.
As I had never observed him to do this, when he had dined with me
before, I took it for granted the compliment was meant for Lady Sarah.