MISS BYRON.--IN CONTINUATION
SATURDAY MORNING, APRIL 15.
O, Lucy, Sir Charles Grandison is gone! Gone indeed! He set out at
three this morning; on purpose, no doubt, to spare his sisters, and
friends, as well as himself, concern.
We broke not up till after two. Were I in the writing humour which I
have never known to fail me till now, I could dwell upon a hundred
things, some of which I can now only briefly mention.
Dinner-time yesterday passed with tolerable cheerfulness: every one tried
to be cheerful. O what pain attends loving too well, and being too well
beloved! He must have pain, as well as we.
Lady Olivia was the most thoughtful, at dinnertime; yet poor Emily! Ah,
the poor Emily! she went out four or five times to weep; though only I
perceived it.
Nobody was cheerful after dinner but Sir Charles. He seemed to exert
himself to be so. He prevailed on me to give them a lesson on the
harpsichord. Lady L---- played: Lady G---- played: we tried to play, I
should rather say. He himself took the violin, and afterwards sat down
to the harpsichord, for one short lesson. He was not known to be such a
master: but he was long in Italy. Lady Olivia indeed knew him to be so.
She was induced to play upon the harpsichord: she surpassed every body.
Italy is the land of harmony.
About seven at night he singled me out, and surprised me greatly by what
he said. He told me, that Lady D---- had made him a visit. I was before
low: I was then ready to sink. She has asked me questions, madam.
Sir, sir! was all I could say.
He himself trembled as he spoke.--Alas! my dear, he surely loves me!
Hear how solemnly he spoke--God Almighty be your director, my dear Miss
Byron! I wish not more happiness to my own soul, than I do to you.--In
discharge of a promise made, I mention this visit to you: I might
otherwise have spared you, and myself--
He stopt there--Then resumed; for I was silent. I could not speak--Your
friends will be entreated for a man that loves you; a very worthy young
nobleman.--I give you emotion, madam.--Forgive me.--I have performed my
promise. He turned from me with a seeming cheerful air. How could he
appear to be cheerful!
We made parties at cards. I knew not what I played. Emily sighed, and
tears stole down her cheeks, as she played. O how she loves her
guardian! Emily, I say--I don't know what I write!
At supper we were all very melancholy. Mr. Beauchamp was urgent to go
abroad with him. He changed the subject, and gave him an indirect
denial, as I may call it, by recommending the two Italian ladies to his
best services.
Sir Charles, kind, good, excellent! wished to Lord L---- to have seen Mr.
Grandison!--unworthy as that man has made himself of his attention.
He was a few moments in private with Lady Olivia. She returned to
company with red eyes.
Poor Emily watched an opportunity to be spoken to by him alone--So
diligently!--He led her to the window--About one o'clock it was--He held
both her hands. He called her, she says, his Emily. He charged her to
write to him.
She could not speak; she could only sob; yet thought she had a thousand
things to say to him.
He contradicted not the hope his sisters and their lords had of his
breakfasting with them. They invited me; they invited the Italian
ladies: Lady L----, Lord L----, did go, in expectation: but Lady G----,
when she found him gone, sent me and the Italian ladies word, that he
was. It would have been cruel, if she had not. How could he steal away
so! I find, that he intended that his morning visit to me (as indeed I
half-suspected) should be a taking leave of my cousins, and your Harriet.
How many things did he say then--How many questions ask--In tender woe--
He wanted to do us all service--He seemed not to know what to say--Surely
he hates not your poor Harriet--What struggles in his noble bosom!--But a
man cannot complain: a man cannot ask for compassion, as a woman can.
But surely his is the gentlest of manly minds!
When we broke up, he handed my cousin Reeves into her coach. He handed
me. Mr. Reeves said, We see you again, Sir Charles, in the morning? He
bowed. At handing me in, he sighed--He pressed my hand--I think he did--
That was all--He saluted nobody. He will not meet his Clementina as he
parted with us.
But, I doubt not, Dr. Bartlett was in the secret.
He was. He has just been here. He found my eyes swelled. I had had no
rest; yet knew not, till seven o'clock, that he was gone.
It was very good of the doctor to come: his visit soothed me: yet he took
no notice of my red eyes. Nay, for that matter, Mrs. Reeves's eyes were
swelled, as well as mine. Angel of a man! how is he beloved!
The doctor says, that his sisters, their lords, Lord W----, are in as
much grief as if he were departed for ever--And who knows--But I will not
torment myself with supposing the worst: I will endeavour to bear in mind
what he said yesterday morning to us, no doubt for an instruction, that
he would have joy.
And did he then think that I should be so much grieved as to want such an
instruction?--And, therefore, did he vouchsafe to give it?--But, vanity,
be quiet--Lie down, hope--Hopelesness, take place! Clementina shall be
his. He shall be hers.
Yet his emotion, Lucy, at mentioning Lady D----'s visit--O! but that was
only owing to his humanity. He saw my emotion; and acknowledged the
tenderest friendship for me! Ought I not to be satisfied with that? I
am. I will be satisfied. Does he not love me with the love of mind?
The poor Olivia has not this to comfort herself with. The poor Olivia!
if I see her sad and afflicted, how I shall pity her! All her
expectations frustrated; the expectations that engaged her to combat
difficulties, to travel, to cross many waters, and to come to England--to
come just time enough to take leave of him; he hastening on the wings of
love and compassion to a dearer, a deservedly dearer object, in the
country she had quitted, on purpose to visit him in his--Is not hers a
more grievous situation than mine?--It is. Why, then, do I lament?
But here, Lucy, let me in confidence hint, what I have gathered from
several intimations from Dr. Bartlett, though as tenderly made by him as
possible, that had Sir Charles Grandison been a man capable of taking
advantage of the violence of a lady's passion for him, the unhappy Olivia
would not have scrupled, great, haughty, and noble, as she is, by birth
and fortune, to have been his, without conditions, if she could not have
been so with: The Italian world is of this opinion, at least. Had Sir
Charles been a Rinaldo, Olivia had been an Armida.
O that I could hope, for the honour of the sex, and of the lady who is so
fine a woman, that the Italian world is mistaken!--I will presume that it
is.
My good Dr. Bartlett, will you allow me to accuse you of a virtue too
rigorous? That is sometimes the fault of very good people. You own that
Sir Charles has not, even to you, revealed a secret so disgraceful to
her. You own, that he has only blamed her for having too little regard
for her reputation, and for the violence of her temper: yet how
patiently, for one of such a temper, has she taken his departure, almost
on the day of her arrival! He could not have given her an opportunity to
indicate to him a concession so criminal: she could not, if he had, have
made the overture. Wicked, wicked world! I will not believe you! And
the less credit shall you have with me, Italian world, as I have seen the
lady. The innocent heart will be a charitable one. Lady Olivia is only
too intrepid. Prosperity, as Sir Charles observed, has been a snare to
her, and set her above a proper regard to her reputation.--Merciless
world! I do not love you. Dear Dr. Bartlett, you are not yet absolutely
perfect! These hints of yours against Olivia, gathered from the
malevolence of the envious, are proofs (the first indeed that I have met
with) of your imperfection!
Excuse me, Lucy: how have I run on! Disappointment has mortified me, and
made me good-natured.--I will welcome adversity, if it enlarge my
charity.
The doctor tells me, that Emily, with her half-broken heart, will be here
presently. If I can be of comfort to her--But I want it myself, from the
same cause. We shall only weep over each other.
As I told you, the doctor, and the doctor only, knew of his setting out
so early. He took leave of him. Happy Dr. Bartlett!--Yet I see by his
eyes, that this parting cost him some paternal tears.
Never father better loved a son than this good man loves Sir Charles
Grandison.
Sir Charles, it seems, had settled all his affairs three days before.
His servants were appointed.
The doctor tells me, that he had last week presented the elder Mr. Oldham
with a pair of colours, which he had purchased for him. Nobody had heard
of this.
Lord W----, he says, is preparing for Windsor; Mr. Beauchamp for
Hampshire, for a few days; and then he returns to attend the commands of
the noble Italians.
Lady Olivia will soon have her equipage ready.
She will make a great appearance.--But Sir Charles Grandison will not be
with her. What is grandeur to a disturbed heart?
The Earl of G---- and Lady Gertrude are setting out for Hertfordshire.
Lord and Lady L---- talk of retiring, for a few weeks, to Colnebrook: the
Doctor is preparing for Grandison-hall; your poor Harriet for
Northamptonshire--Bless me, my dear, what a dispersion!--But Lord W----'s
nuptials will collect some of them together at Windsor.
***
Emily, the dear weeping girl! is just come. She is with my cousins. She
expects my permission for coming up to me. Imagine us weeping over each
other; praying for, blessing the guardian of us both. Your imagination
cannot form a scene too tender.
Adieu, my Lucy.