SIR CHARLES GRANDISON, TO DR. BARTLETT
[ENCLOSED IN THE PRECEDING.]
GRANDISON HALL, FRIDAY NIGHT, MARCH 31.
I arrived at Sir Harry Beauchamp's about twelve this day. He and his
lady expected me, from the letter which I wrote and shewed you before I
left the town; in which, you know, I acquainted Sir Harry with his son's
earnest desire to throw himself at his feet, and to pay his duty to his
mother, in England; and engaged to call myself, either this day or
to-morrow, for an answer.
Sir Harry received me with great civility, and even affection. Lady
Beauchamp, said he, will be with us in a moment. I am afraid you will
not meet with all the civility from her on the errand you are come upon,
that a man of Sir Charles Grandison's character deserves to meet with
from all the world. We have been unhappy together, ever since we had
your letter. I long to see my son: your friendship for him establishes
him in my heart. But--And then he cursed the apron-string tenure, by
which, he said, he held his peace.
You will allow me, Sir Harry, said I, to address myself in my own way to
my lady. You give me pleasure, in letting me know, that the difficulty
is not with you. You have indeed, sir, one of the most prudent young men
in the world for your son. His heart is in your hand: you may form it as
you please.
She is coming! She is coming! interrupted he. We are all in pieces: we
were in the midst of a feud, when you arrived. If she is not civil to
you--
In swam the lady; her complexion raised; displeasure in her looks to me,
and indignation in her air to Sir Harry; as if they had not had their
contention out, and she was ready to renew it.
With as obliging an air as I could assume, I paid my compliments to her.
She received them with great stiffness; swelling at Sir Harry: who sidled
to the door, in a moody and sullen manner, and then slipt out.
You are Sir Charles Grandison, I suppose, sir, said she; I never saw you
before: I have heard much talk of you.--But, pray, sir, are good men
always officious men? Cannot they perform the obligations of friendship,
without discomposing families?
You see me now, madam, in an evil moment, if you are displeased with me:
but I am not used to the displeasure of ladies: I do my utmost not to
deserve it; and, let me tell you, madam, that I will not suffer you to be
displeased with me.
I took her half-reluctant hand, and led her to a chair, and seated myself
in another near her.