_Two Persons of Fashion_.
In pursuance of the determination he had formed, sir William immediately
set out for Oxford, where his friend still resided. As he had lived with
him upon terms of the most unreserved familiarity, he made use of the
liberty of an intimate, and, without being announced, abruptly entered his
chamber. Damon was sitting in a melancholy posture, his countenance
dejected, and his eye languid. Upon the entrance of the baronet he looked
up, and struck with the sudden appearance of one to whom he was so
ardently attached, his visage for a moment assumed an air of gaiety and
pleasure.
"Ha," cried sir William, with his wonted spriteliness of accent, "methinks
the countenance of my Damon does not bespeak the sentiments that become a
bridegroom." "I am afraid not," answered Damon. "But tell me to what am I
indebted for this agreeable and unexpected visit?" "We will talk of that
another time. But when did you see my play-fellow, Miss Frampton?" "I have
not seen her," replied our hero with a sigh half uttered, and half
suppressed, "these ten days." "What" cried the baronet, "no
misunderstanding, eh?" "Not absolutely that. I saw her, I fear, without
all the rapture that becomes a lover, and she resented it with a coldness
that did not introduce an immediate explanation. Since that time I have
been somewhat indisposed, or probably affairs would now have been
settled." "And what," said sir William, "must we apply the old maxim, that
the falling out of lovers is the consolidating of love?"
Damon from the entrance of his friend had appeared a good deal agitated.
He was no longer able to contain himself. He eagerly seized the hand of
sir William and clasped it between both of his. "My dear baronet, I have
never concealed from you a thought of my heart. But my present situation
is so peculiarly delicate and distressing, that I can scarcely form any
sentiment of it, or even dare trust myself to recollect it. I have seen,"
continued he, "ah, that I could forget it! a woman, beauteous as the day,
before whom the charms of Miss Frampton disappear, as, before the rising
sun, each little star _hides its diminish'd head_. Her features, full
of sensibility, her voice such as to thrill the soul and all she says,
pervaded with wit and good sense." "And where," cried the baronet, in a
lively tone, "resides this peerless she?"
"Alas," answered the disconsolate Damon, "it matters not. I shall see her
no more. Virtue, honour, every thing forbids it. I may be unhappy, but I
will never deserve to be so. Miss Frampton has my vows. Filial duty calls
on me to fulfil them. Obstacles without number, Alps on Alps arise, to
impede my prosecution of a fond and unlicensed inclination. The struggle
has cost me something, but it is over. I have recovered my health, I have
formed my resolution. This very day, (you, my good friend, will accept the
apology) I had determined to repair to Beaufort Place. Doubt and
uncertainty nourish the lingering distemper that would undo me. I will
come to a decision."
Sir William was not of a temper to abdicate any affair in which he had
embarked, before success appeared absolutely unattainable. Like Caesar, it
was enough for him that the thing appeared possible to be done, to engage
him to persevere. He therefore begged leave to accompany his friend, and
they set out together that very afternoon.
Beaufort Place, the habitation of Miss Frampton, was only six miles from
Oxford. And, as he knew that Sir Harry Eustace, the son of that lady's
mother by a second husband, was now upon a visit to his sister, sir
William Twyford made no scruple of proceeding with his friend immediately
to the house.
After a short general conversation, sir William drew the young baronet
into the garden. In the mean time sir Harry's chariot was preparing, as he
had fixed the conclusion of his visit for that evening. After an interval
of half an hour the servant brought word that the carriage was ready. Sir
Harry, who was a young man of little ceremony, bowed _en passant_
before the parlour window, and immediately hurried away.
Sir William stood for some time at the door of the house after sir Harry
had driven away. Presently he observed another carriage advancing by the
opposite road. The liveries were flaunting and the attendants numerous.
They drew nearer, and he perceived that it was the equipage of lord
Osborne. Since therefore the lovers were to be so soon interrupted by the
entrance of a new visitant, he thought proper immediately to enter the
parlour.
He had only time to remark the air and countenance of Damon and the young
lady. They appeared mutually cold and embarassed. He could trace in his
friend the aukwardness and timidity of one who was unused to act a studied
part. Miss Frampton, with a countenance uninterested and inattentive,
affected the carriage of a person who thought herself insulted.
Lord Osborne was now announced. He was a young nobleman, that had spent a
considerable part of his fortune upon the continent. With a narrow
understanding and a contracted heart, he had been able by habitual cunning
and invincible effrontery, to acquire the reputation of a man of parts.
Courage was the only respectable quality, his possession of which could
not be questioned. He was a debauchee and a gamester. There was no
meanness he had not practised, there was no villainy of which he could not
boast. With this character, he was universally respected and courted by
all such as wished to acquire the reputation of men of gaiety and spirit.
The ladies were all dying for him, as for a man who had ruined more
innocence, and occasioned a greater consumption of misery, than any other
man in the kingdom.
The face of Miss Frampton visibly brightened the moment his name was
articulated. She was all spirits and agitation, though she seemed to feel
something aukward in her situation. When he entered the room, she flew
half way to meet him, but, suddenly recollecting herself, stopt short. "My
dear Miss Frampton," said his lordship, with a familiar and indifferent
air, "I cannot stop a moment. I am mortified to death. The most
unfortunate man! But I could not live a whole day without seeing you.
Believe me to be more impassioned, more ardent than ever." Saying this be
directed a slight glance and a half bow towards our two friends. "Farewel,
my charmer, my adorable!" said he, and kissed her hand. Miss Frampton
struck him a slight blow with her fan, and crying, with an easy wink,
"Remember!" she dropt him a profound curtesey and his lordship departed.
For a moment the whole company was silent. "By my soul," exclaimed sir
William, "this is the most singular affair!" "Oh, nothing at all,"
answered the young lady. "It is all _à la mode de Paris_. In France
no man of fashion can presume to accost a lady, whether young or old, but
in the language of love. But it means no more, than when a minister of
state says to his first clerk, _your humble servant_, or to the widow
of a poor seaman, _your devoted slave_." "Oh," cried sir William, "that
is all. And by my faith, it is mighty pretty. What think you Damon? I
hope, when you are married, you will have no objection to lord Osborne, or
any other person of fashion making love to your wife before your face."
"What an indelicate question!" said Miss Frampton. "I declare, baronet,
you are grown an absolute boor. Nobody ever talks of marriage now. A woman
of fashion blushes to hear it mentioned before a third person." "Why, to
say the truth, madam, I have been honoured with so great an intimacy by
Damon, that I thought that might excuse the impropriety. And now, pray
your ladyship, must I wait till we are alone, before I ask my friend
whether his happy day be fixed?" "Since you will talk," said Miss
Frampton, "of the odious subject, I believe I may tell you that it is not.
We are in no such hurry." "My dear sweet play-fellow," said the baronet,
"I must tell you once for all that I am no adept in French fashions. So
that you will give me leave to use the unceremonious language of an
Englishman. My friend here, you know, is a little sheepish, but I have
words at will. I thought matters had been nearer a termination." "And
pray, my good sir, let the gentleman speak for himself. If he is not
dissatisfied, why should you be in such haste?" "Indeed, madam,"
interposed Damon, "I am not perfectly satisfied. Perhaps indeed a lover
ought to think himself happy enough in being permitted to dance attendance
upon a lady of your charms. But I once thought, madam, that we had
advanced somewhat farther." "I cannot tell," answered the lady with an air
of levity. "Just as you please. But I cannot see why we should put
ourselves to any inconvenience. Lord Osborne"--"Lord Osborne!" interrupted
sir William with some warmth, "and pray what has his lordship to do with
the matter?" "Really sir William," replied Miss Frampton, "you are very
free. But his lordship is my friend, and I hope Damon has no objection to
his continuing so." "Look you," answered sir William, "I would neither
have lord Osborne for the rival of Damon now, nor for your
_chichisbee_ hereafter." "And yet I am not sure," cried she, "that he
may not be both." "Is there then," said the baronet, "no engagement
subsisting between you and Damon?" "I believe," cried Miss Frampton, a
little hesitating, "there may be something of the kind. But we may change
our minds you know, and I do not think that I shall prosecute upon it. Ha!
ha! ha!" "To say the truth," replied sir William, "I believe lord Osborne
is not only the rival of Damon, but a very formidable one too. But let me
tell you, Bella, a character so respectable as that of my friend, and so
true an Englishman, must not be allowed to dance attendance." "As he
pleases. I believe we understand one another. And to say the truth at
once, perhaps some time hence I may have no aversion to lord Osborne."
The reader will not suppose that the conversation continued much longer.
Damon and the young lady came to a perfect understanding, and parted
without any very ungovernable desire of seeing each other again. And thus
by the gay humour and active friendship of sir William Twyford, an affair
was happily terminated, which, from the timidity and gentleness of our
hero, might otherwise have lingered several months to the mutual
dissatisfaction of both parties. Damon quitted the house in raptures, and
was no sooner seated in the chariot, than he pressed his friend repeatedly
to his breast, and committed a thousand extravagancies of joy.