Chapter I.

THE FEMALE QUIXOTE;

OR,

THE ADVENTURES OF ARABELLA.

BY

CHARLOTTE LENNOX

In Two Volumes.

The Second Edition:

Revised and Corrected.

Transcribers' note: The text of this digital edition was prepared

from printed edition of 1752 (the revised and corrected 2nd edition)

with some further standardisation of spelling and punctuation (also

making use of the 1820 edition)

PREFACE

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE EARL OF MIDDLESEX.

My Lord,

Such is the power of interest over almost every mind, that no one

is long without arguments to prove any position which is ardently

wished to be true, or to justify any measures which are dictated by

inclination.

By this subtle sophistry of desire, I have been persuaded to hope that

this book may, without impropriety, be inscribed to your lordship; but

am not certain that my reasons will have the same force upon other

understandings.

The dread which a writer feels of the public censure; the still greater

dread of neglect; and the eager wish for support and protection, which

is impressed by the consciousness of imbecility; are unknown to those

who have never adventured into the world; and I am afraid, my lord,

equally unknown to those who have always found the world ready to

applaud them.

It is, therefore, not unlikely, that the design of this address may be

mistaken, and the effects of my fear imputed to my vanity: they who see

your lordship's name prefixed to my performance, will rather condemn my

presumption, than compassionate my anxiety.

But, whatever be supposed my motive, the praise of judgment cannot be

denied me; for to whom can timidity so properly fly for shelter, as to

him who has been so long distinguished for candour and humanity? How

can vanity be so completely gratified, as by the allowed patronage of

him whose judgment has so long given a standard to the national taste?

Or by what other means could I so powerfully suppress all opposition,

but that of envy, as by declaring myself,

My Lord,

Your Lordship's

Obliged and most obedient

Humble Servant,

THE AUTHOR.

THE FEMALE QUIXOTE.

VOLUME I.

BOOK I.

Chapter I.

_Contains a turn at court, neither new nor surprising. Some useless

additions to a fine lady's education. The bad effects of a whimsical

study, which some will say is borrowed from Cervantes._

The Marquis of ----, for a long series of years, was the first and

most distinguished favourite at court: he held the most honourable

employments under the crown, disposed of all places of profit as he

pleased, presided at the council, and in a manner governed the whole

kingdom.

This extensive authority could not fail of making him many enemies: he

fell at last a sacrifice to the plots they were continually forming

against him; and was not only removed from all his employments, but

banished the court for ever.

The pain his undeserved disgrace gave him, he was enabled to conceal

by the natural haughtiness of his temper; and, behaving rather like a

man who had resigned, than been dismissed from his posts, he imagined

he triumphed sufficiently over the malice of his enemies, while he

seemed to be wholly insensible of the effects it produced. His secret

discontent, however, was so much augmented by the opportunity he now

had of observing the baseness and ingratitude of mankind, which in some

degree he experienced every day, that he resolved to quit all society

whatever, and devote the rest of his life to solitude and privacy.

For the place of his retreat he pitched upon a castle he had in a

very remote province of the kingdom, in the neighbourhood of a small

village, and several miles distant from any town. The vast extent of

ground which surrounded this noble building, he had caused to be laid

out in a manner peculiar to his taste: the most laborious endeavours of

art had been used to make it appear like the beautiful product of wild,

uncultivated nature. But if this epitome of Arcadia could boast of only

artless and simple beauties, the inside of the castle was adorned with

a magnificence suitable to the dignity and immense riches of the owner.

While things were preparing at the castle for his reception, the

marquis, though now advanced in years, cast his eyes on a young lady,

greatly inferior to himself in quality, but whose beauty and good sense

promised him an agreeable companion. After a very short courtship, he

married her, and in a few weeks carried his new bride into the country,

from whence he absolutely resolved never to return.

The marquis, following the plan of life he had laid down, divided his

time between the company of his lady, his library, which was large and

well furnished, and his gardens. Sometimes he took the diversion of

hunting, but never admitted any company whatever; his pride and extreme

reserve rendered him so wholly inaccessible to the country gentry about

him, that none ever presumed to solicit his acquaintance.

In the second year of his retirement, the marchioness brought him a

daughter, and died in three days after her delivery. The marquis,

who had tenderly loved her, was extremely afflicted at her death;

but time having produced its usual effects, his great fondness for

the little Arabella entirely engrossed his attention, and made up

all the happiness of his life. At four years of age he took her from

under the direction of the nurses and women appointed to attend her,

and permitted her to receive no part of her education from another,

which he was capable of giving her himself. He taught her to read and

write in a very few months; and, as she grew older, finding in her an

uncommon quickness of apprehension, and an understanding capable of

great improvements, he resolved to cultivate so promising a genius with

the utmost care; and, as he frequently, in the rapture of paternal

fondness, expressed himself, render her mind as beautiful as her person

was lovely.

Nature had indeed given her a most charming face, a shape easy and

delicate, a sweet and insinuating voice, and an air so full of dignity

and grace, as drew the admiration of all that saw her. These native

charms were improved with all the heightenings of art; her dress was

perfectly magnificent; the best masters of music and dancing were sent

for from London to attend her. She soon became a perfect mistress of

the French and Italian languages, under the care of her father; and it

is not to be doubted, but she would have made a great proficiency in

all useful knowledge, had not her whole time been taken up by another

study.

From her earliest youth she had discovered a fondness for reading,

which extremely delighted the marquis; he permitted her therefore the

use of his library, in which, unfortunately for her, were great store

of romances, and, what was still more unfortunate, not in the original

French, but very bad translations.

The deceased marchioness had purchased these books to soften a solitude

which she found very disagreeable; and, after her death, the marquis

removed them from her closet into his library, where Arabella found

them.

The surprising adventures with which they were filled, proved a most

pleasing entertainment to a young lady who was wholly secluded from the

world; who had no other diversion, but ranging like a nymph through

gardens, or, to say better, the woods and lawns in which she was

enclosed; and who had no other conversation but that of a grave and

melancholy father, or her own attendants.

Her ideas, from the manner of her life, and the objects around her,

had taken a romantic turn; and, supposing romances were real pictures

of life, from them she drew all her notions and expectations. By them

she was taught to believe, that love was the ruling principle of the

world; that every other passion was subordinate to this; and that

it caused all the happiness and miseries of life. Her glass, which

she often consulted, always showed her a form so extremely lovely,

that, not finding herself engaged in such adventures as were common

to the heroines in the romances she read, she often complained of the

insensibility of mankind, upon whom her charms seemed to have so little

influence.

The perfect retirement she lived in afforded, indeed, no opportunities

of making the conquests she desired; but she could not comprehend how

any solitude could be obscure enough to conceal a beauty like hers from

notice; and thought the reputation of her charms sufficient to bring

a crowd of adorers to demand her of her father. Her mind being wholly

filled with the most extravagant expectations, she was alarmed by every

trifling incident; and kept in a continual anxiety by a vicissitude of

hopes, fears, wishes, and disappointments.

Chapter II.

_Contains a description of a lady's dress, in fashion not much above

two thousand years ago. The beginning of an adventure which seems to

promise a great deal._

Arabella had now entered into her seventeenth year, with the regret

of seeing herself the object of admiration to a few rustics only, who

happened to see her; when, one Sunday, making use of the permission

the marquis sometimes allowed her, to attend Divine service at the

church belonging to the village near which they lived, her vanity was

flattered with an adorer not altogether unworthy of her notice.

This gentleman was young, gay, handsome, and very elegantly dressed;

he was just come from London with an intention to pass some weeks

with a friend in that part of the country; and at the time Arabella

entered the church, his eyes, which had wandered from one rural fair

to another, were in an instant fixed upon her face. She blushed with

a very becoming modesty; and, pleased with the unusual appearance of

so fine a gentleman, and the particular notice he took of her, passed

on to her seat through a double row of country people; who, with a

profusion of awkward bows and curtsies, expressed their respect.

Mr. Hervey, for that was the stranger's name, was no less surprised

at her beauty, than the singularity of her dress; and the odd whim of

being followed into the church by three women attendants, who, as soon

as she was seated, took their places behind her.

Her dress, though singular, was far from being unbecoming. All the

beauties of her neck and shape were set off to the greatest advantage

by the fashion of her gown, which, in the manner of a robe, was made

to sit tight to her body; and fastened on the breast with a knot of

diamonds. Her fine black hair hung upon her neck in curls, which had

so much the appearance of being artless, that all but her maid, whose

employment it was to give them that form, imagined they were so. Her

head-dress was only a few knots advantageously disposed, over which she

wore a white sarsenet hood, somewhat in the form of a veil, with which

she sometimes wholly covered her fair face, when she saw herself beheld

with too much attention.

This veil had never appeared to her so necessary before. Mr. Hervey's

eager glances threw her into so much confusion, that, pulling it over

her face as much as she was able, she remained invisible to him all the

time they afterwards stayed in the church. This action, by which she

would have had him understand, that she was displeased at his gazing on

her with so little respect, only increased his curiosity to know who

she was.

When the congregation was dismissed, he hastened to the door, with

an intention to offer her his hand to help her to her coach; but

seeing the magnificent equipage that waited for her, and the number

of servants that attended it, he conceived a much higher idea of her

quality than he had at first; and, changing his design, contented

himself with only bowing to her as she passed; and as soon as her coach

drove away, enquired of some persons nearest him, who she was?

These rustics, highly delighted with the opportunity of talking to the

gay Londoner, whom they looked upon as a very extraordinary person,

gave him all the intelligence they were able, concerning the lady he

enquired after; and filled him with an inconceivable surprise at the

strange humour of the marquis, who buried so beautiful a creature in

obscurity.

At his return home, he expressed his admiration of her in terms that

persuaded his friend she had made some impression on his heart; and,

after rallying him a little upon this suspicion, he assumed a more

serious air, and told him, if he really liked Lady Bella, he thought

it not impossible but he might obtain her. The poor girl, added he,

has been kept in confinement so long, that I believe it would not be

difficult to persuade her to free herself by marriage. She never had a

lover in her life; and therefore the first person who addresses her has

the fairest chance for succeeding.

Mr. Hervey, though he could not persuade himself his cousin was in

earnest when he advised him to court the only daughter of a man of the

marquis's quality, and heiress to his vast estates; yet relished the

scheme, and resolved to make some attempt upon her before he left the

country. However, he concealed his design from his cousin, not being

willing to expose himself to be ridiculed, if he did not succeed;

and, turning the advice he had given him into a jest, left him in the

opinion that he thought no more of it.

Chapter III.

_In which the adventure goes on after the accustomed manner._

Arabella, in the mean time, was wholly taken up with the adventure, as

she called it, at church: the person and dress of the gentleman who

had so particularly gazed on her there, was so different from what she

had been accustomed to see, that she immediately concluded he was of

some distinguished rank. It was past a doubt, she thought, that he was

excessively in love with her; and as she soon expected to have some

very extraordinary proofs of his passion, her thoughts were wholly

employed on the manner in which she should receive them.

As soon as she came home, and had paid her duty to the marquis, she

hurried to her chamber, to be at liberty to indulge her agreeable

reflections; and, after the example of her heroines, when any thing

extraordinary happened to them, called her favourite woman; or, to use

her own language, her, "in whom she confided her most secret thoughts."

Well, Lucy, said she, did you observe that stranger who eyed _us_[1] so

heedfully to-day at church?

This girl, notwithstanding her country simplicity, knew a compliment

was expected from her on this occasion; and therefore replied, that she

did not wonder at the gentleman's staring at her; for she was sure he

had never seen any body so handsome as her ladyship before.

I have not all the beauty you attribute to me, said Arabella, smiling

a little: and with a very moderate share of it, I might well fix the

attention of a person who seemed to be not over much pleased with the

objects about him. However, pursued she, assuming a more serious air,

if this stranger be weak enough to entertain any sentiments more than

indifferent for me, I charge you, upon pain of my displeasure, do not

be accessary to the conveying his presumptuous thoughts to me, either

by letters or messages; nor suffer him to corrupt your fidelity with

the presents he will very probably offer you.

Lucy, to whom this speech first gave a hint of what she ought to expect

from her lady's lovers, finding herself of more importance than she

imagined, was so pleased at the prospect which opened to her, that it

was with some hesitation she promised to obey her orders.

Arabella, however, was satisfied with her assurances of observing

her directions; and dismissed her from her presence, not without an

apprehension of being too well obeyed.

A whole week being elapsed without meeting with the importunities

she expected, she could hardly conceal her surprise at so mortifying

a disappointment; and frequently interrogated Lucy, concerning any

attempts the stranger had made on her fidelity; but the answers she

received only increased her discontent, as they convinced her, her

charms had not had the effect she imagined.

Mr. Hervey, however, had been all this time employed in thinking of

some means to get acquainted with the marquis; for, being possessed

with an extraordinary opinion of his wit, and personal accomplishments,

he did not fear making some impression on the heart of the young lady;

provided he could have an opportunity of conversing with her.

His cousin's advice was continually in his mind, and flattered his

vanity with the most agreeable hopes: but the marquis's fondness for

solitude, and that haughtiness which was natural to him, rendered him

so difficult of access, that Hervey, from the intelligence he received

of his humour, despaired of being able to prosecute his scheme; when,

meeting with a young farmer in one of his evening walks, and entering

into conversation with him upon several country subjects, the discourse

at last turned upon the Marquis of ----, whose fine house and gardens

were within their view; upon which the young fellow informed him,

he was brother to a young woman that attended the Lady Arabella;

and, being fond of lengthening out the conversation with so fine a

gentleman, gave him, without being desired, the domestic history of the

whole family, as he had received it from Lucy, who was the sister he

mentioned.

Hervey, excessively delighted at this accidental meeting with a person

so capable of serving his design, affected a great desire of being

better acquainted with him; and, under pretence of acquiring some

knowledge in rural affairs, accustomed himself to call so often at

William's farm, that, at last, he met with the person whom the hopes of

seeing had so often carried him thither.

Lucy, the moment she saw him enter, knowing him again, blushed at the

remembrance of the discourse which had passed between her lady and

herself concerning him; and was not at all surprised at the endeavours

he used to speak to her apart: but, as soon as he began a conversation

concerning Arabella, she interrupted him by saying, I know, sir, that

you are _distractedly_ in love with my lady; but she has forbid me to

receive any letters or messages from you; and therefore I beg you will

not offer to bribe me; for I dare not disobey her.

Mr. Hervey was at first so astonished at her speech, that he knew not

what to think of it; but, after a little reflection, attributing to

an excess of awkward cunning what, in reality, was an effect of her

simplicity, he resolved to make use of the hint she had given him;

and, presenting her with a couple of guineas, entreated her to venture

displeasing her lady, by bearing a letter from him; promising to reward

her better, if she succeeded.

Lucy made some difficulty to comply; but, not being able absolutely to

refuse the first bribe that ever was offered to her, she, after some

entreaties, consented to take the letter; and receiving the money he

presented her, left him at liberty to write, after she had got her

brother to furnish him with materials for that purpose.

[1] The heroines always speak of themselves in the plural number.

Chapter IV.

_A mistake, which produces no great consequences. An extraordinary

comment upon a behaviour natural enough. An instance of a lady's

compassion for her lover, which the reader may possibly think not very

compassionate._

Hervey, who was master of no great elegance in letter-writing, was at

first at some loss, how to address a lady of her quality, to whom he

was an absolute stranger, upon the subject of love; but, conceiving

there was no great occasion for much ceremony in declaring himself to

one who had been educated in the country, and who, he believed, could

not be displeased with a lover of his figure, he therefore, in plain

terms, told her how _deeply_ he was enamoured of her; and conjured her

to afford him some opportunity of paying his respects to her.

Lucy received this letter from him with a worse grace than she did

the gold; and, though she promised him to deliver it to her lady

immediately, yet she kept it a day or two before she had the courage

to attempt it: at last, drawing it out of her pocket, with a bashful

air, she presented it to her lady, telling her it came from the fine

gentleman whom she saw at church.

Arabella blushed at the sight of the letter; and though, in reality,

she was not displeased; yet, being a strict observer of romantic forms,

she chid her woman severely for taking it. Carry it back, added she,

to the presumptuous writer of it; and let him know how greatly his

insolence has offended me.

Lucy, however, suffered the letter to remain on the toilet, expecting

some change in her lady's mind; for she traversed the chamber in great

seeming irresolution, often stealing a glance to the letter, which she

had a strong inclination to open; but, searching the records of her

memory for a precedent, and not finding that any lady ever opened a

letter from an unknown lover, she reiterated her commands to Lucy to

carry it back, with a look and accent so very severe, that the girl,

extremely apprehensive of having offended her, put the letter again in

her pocket, resolving to return it the first opportunity.

Mr. Hervey, who had his thoughts wholly taken up with the flattering

prospect of success, no sooner saw Lucy, who gave him his letter

without speaking a word, than, supposing it had been the answer he

expected, he eagerly snatched it out of her hand, and, kissing it first

in a rapture of joy, broke it open; but his surprise and confusion,

when he saw it was his own letter returned, was inexpressible. For some

moments he kept his eyes fastened upon the tender billet, as if he was

really reading it. His disappointment, and the ridiculous figure he

knew he must make in the eyes of his messenger, filled him with so much

confusion, that he did not dare to look up; but, recovering himself at

last, he affected to turn it into a jest; and, laughing first himself,

gave Lucy the liberty of laughing also, who had, with much difficulty,

been able to prevent doing it before.

The curiosity he felt to hear how she had acquitted herself of the

trust he had reposed in her, made him oblige her to give a truce to

her mirth, in order to satisfy him; and Lucy, who was extremely exact

in her relations, told him all that had passed, without omitting the

smallest circumstance.

Though it was impossible to draw any favourable omen from what he

heard, yet he determined to make another effort, before he set out for

London; and, taking leave of his confidante, after he had appointed

her to meet him again the next day, at her brother's, he went home to

consider upon means to effect his designs, which the ill success of his

first attempt had not forced him to abandon.

Arabella, who expected to hear, that the return of his letter would

make her lover commit some very extravagant actions; and having

impatiently waited for an account of them from Lucy; finding she seemed

to have no intention to begin a discourse concerning him; asked her, at

last, if she had executed her commission, and returned the letter to

the insolent unknown?

The girl answered, Yes.

Which not being all that her lady expected, And how did he receive it?

resumed she, peevishly.

Why, madam, replied Lucy, I believe he thought your ladyship had sent

him an answer; for he kissed the letter several times.

Foolish wench! replied Arabella, how can you imagine he had the

temerity to think I should answer his letter? A favour, which, though

he had spent years in my service, would have been infinitely greater

than he could have expected. No, Lucy, he kissed the letter, either

because he thought it had been touched at least by my hands, or to

show the perfect submission with which he received my commands; and

it is not to be doubted but his despair will force him to commit some

desperate outrage against himself, which I do not hate him enough to

wish, though he has mortally offended me.

Arabella was possessed of great sensibility and softness; and being

really persuaded that her lover would entertain some fatal design,

seemed so much affected with the thoughts of what might happen, that

Lucy, who tenderly loved her, begged her not to be so much concerned

for the gentleman: There is no fear, added she, that he will do himself

a mischief; for when he discovered his mistake, he laughed heartily, as

well as myself.

How! replied Arabella, extremely surprised: did he laugh?

Which Lucy confirming, Doubtless, resumed she, having taken a little

time to consider of so strange a phænomenon, he laughed, because his

reason was disturbed at the sudden shock he received: unhappy man! his

presumption will be severely enough punished, though I do not add anger

to the scorn which I have expressed for him: therefore, Lucy, you may

tell him, if you please, that, notwithstanding the offence he has been

guilty of, I am not cruel enough to wish his death, and that I command

him to live, if he can live without hope.

Chapter V.

_In which one would imagine the adventure concluded, but for a promise

that something else is to come._

Lucy now began to think there was something more than she imagined in

this affair. Mr. Hervey, indeed, in her opinion, had seemed to be very

far from having any design to attempt his own life; but her lady, she

thought, could not possibly be mistaken; and therefore she resolved to

carry her message to him immediately, though it was then late in the

evening.

Accordingly, she went to her brother's, where she had some hope of

meeting with him; but not finding him there, she obliged him to go to

the house where he lived, and tell him she desired to speak with him.

William, being let into the secret of his sister's frequent meetings

with Mr. Hervey, imagined she had some agreeable news to acquaint him

with; and therefore ran immediately to his relation's house, which was

but at a small distance; but he was told Mr. Hervey was in bed, very

much indisposed, and could not be seen.

This news put Lucy in a terrible fright: she told her apprehensions

to her brother; which being such as her lady had put into her head,

and were now confirmed by Mr. Hervey's illness, the young farmer stood

amazed, not being able to comprehend her meaning; and she, without

staying to explain herself any further, went home to the castle, and

told her lady, that what she feared was come to pass, the gentleman

would certainly die; for he was very ill in bed.

This being no more than what Arabella expected, she discovered no

surprise; but only asked Lucy, if she had delivered her message to him?

Would you have me, madam, replied she, go to his house? I am afraid the

Marquis will hear of it.

My father, replied Arabella, can never be offended with me for doing a

charitable action.

Ah! madam, interrupted Lucy, let me go then immediately, for fear the

poor gentleman should grow worse.

If he be sick almost to death, resumed Arabella, he will recover, if

I command him to do so. When did you hear of a lover dying through

despair, when his mistress let him know it was her pleasure he should

live? But as it will not be altogether so proper for you to go to his

house, as it may be suspected you come from me; I'll write a few lines,

which you shall copy, and your brother may carry them to him to-morrow,

and I'll engage he shall be well in a few hours.

Saying this, she went into her closet, and, having written a short

note, made Lucy write it over again. It was as follows:

"LUCY, TO THE UNFORTUNATE LOVER OF HER LADY.

"My lady, who is the most generous person in the world,

has commanded me to tell you, that, presumptuous as you

are, she does not desire your death; nay, more, she

commands you to live, and permits you, in case you obey

her, to hope for her pardon, provided you keep within the

bounds she prescribes to you.

ADIEU."

This letter Lucy copied; and Arabella, examining it again, thought it

rather too kind; and, seeming desirous of making some alteration in

it, Lucy, who was extremely anxious for Mr. Hervey's life, fearing

lest she should alter it in such a manner that the gentleman might be

at liberty to die if he chose it, conjured her lady in such pressing

terms to let it remain as it was, that Arabella suffered herself to

be prevailed upon by her entreaties; and, remembering that it was not

uncommon for the ladies in romances to relax a little in their severity

through the remonstrances of their women, told her, with an enchanting

smile, that she would grant her desire; and went to bed with that

pleasing satisfaction, which every generous mind experiences at the

consciousness of having done some very benevolent action.

In the morning, this life-restoring billet was dispatched by Lucy to

her brother, enclosed in one to him, charging him to carry it to the

sick gentleman immediately.

William, having a strong curiosity to see what his sister had written,

ventured to open it; and, not being able to imagine Lady Bella had

really given her orders to write what appeared to him the most

unintelligible stuff in the world, resolved to suppress this letter

till he had questioned her a little concerning it.

A few hours after, Mr. Hervey, who expected to meet Lucy at her

brother's, came in. His illness having been only a violent head-ache,

to which he was subject, being now quite off, he remembered the

appointment he had made; but, having waited some time, and she not

coming, he returned again to his cousin's, leaving word for her, that

he would see her the next day.

Scarce was he gone out, when Lucy, who longed to know what effect her

letter had produced in his health, came in; and eagerly enquiring of

her brother how Mr. Hervey was, received for answer, that he had been

there a moment before she came.

Well, cried she, clasping her hands together with surprise, my lady

said her letter would cure him, if he was ever so sick; but I did not

imagine he would have been well enough to come abroad so soon.

Your lady! interrupted William: why, was it not yourself that wrote

that letter you gave to me?

No, truly, brother, resumed she: how was it possible I should write so

fine a letter? My lady _made_ every word of it, and I only wrote it

after her.

William, hearing this, would not own the indiscretion he now thought he

had been guilty of, in keeping the letter; but suffered his sister to

return to her lady, in the belief that he had delivered it; resolving,

when he saw her next, to say he had lost it; for he knew not what

excuse to make to Mr. Hervey for not giving it him when he saw him.

Arabella received the account of her lover's recovery as a thing she

was absolutely sure of before; and thinking she had now done all that

could be expected from her compassion, resumed her usual severity, and

commanded Lucy to mention him no more. If he loves me with that purity

he ought to do, pursued she, he will cease to importune me any further:

and though his passion be ever so violent, his respect and submission

to my commands will oblige him to silence. The obedience he has already

shown, in recovering at the first intimation I gave, that it was my

will he should do so, convinces me I need not apprehend he will renew

his follies to displease me.

Lucy, who found by this discourse of her lady's, that her commission

was at an end with regard to Mr. Hervey, followed her directions so

exactly, that she not only spoke no more of him to her; but also, in

order to avoid him, neglected to go to her brother's.

His impatience at not seeing her made him prevail upon her brother to

go to the castle, and entreat her to give him another interview: but

Lucy positively refused; and, to make a merit with her lady of her

obedience, informed her what he had requested.

Arabella, resenting a boldness which argued so little respect to her

commands, began now to repent of the compassion she had shown him;

and, commending Lucy for what she had done, bid her tell the insolent

unknown, if he ever sent to her again, that she was resolved never to

pardon the contempt he had shown for her orders.

Mr. Hervey, finding himself deserted by Lucy, resolved to give over his

attempts, congratulating himself for his discretion in not acquainting

his cousin with what he had already done: his heart not being very much

engaged, he found no great difficulty in consoling himself for his bad

success. In a few days he thought of Lady Bella no more than if he had

never seen her; but an accident bringing her again in his way, he could

not resist the inclination he felt to speak to her; and by that means

drew upon himself a very sensible mortification.

Chapter VI.

_In which the adventure is really concluded; though, possibly, not as

the reader expected._

The marquis sometimes permitting his daughter to ride out, and this

being the only diversion she was allowed, or ever experienced, she did

not fail to take it as often as she could.

She was returning from one of these airings one day, attended by

two servants, when Mr. Hervey, who happened to be at some distance,

observing a lady on horseback, who made a very graceful figure, he rode

up to her, in order to have a nearer view; and, knowing Lady Bella

again, resolved to speak to her: but while he was considering how he

should accost her, Arabella suddenly seeing him, and observing he was

making up to her, her imagination immediately suggested to her, that

this insolent lover had a design to seize her person; and this thought

terrifying her extremely, she gave a loud shriek; which Mr. Hervey

hearing, rode eagerly up to her to enquire the reason of it, at the

same time that her two attendants, as much amazed as himself, came

galloping up also.

Arabella, upon his coming close to her, redoubled her cries. If you

have any valour, said she to her servants, defend your unfortunate

mistress, and rescue her from this unworthy man.

The servants, believing him to be a highwayman, by this exclamation,

and dreading lest he should present his pistol at their heads, if they

offered to make any resistance, recoiled a few paces back, expecting

he would demand their purses when he had robbed their lady: but the

extreme surprise he was in, keeping him motionless, the fellows not

seeing any pistols in his hand, and animated by Arabella's cries, who,

calling them cowards and traitors, urged them to deliver her; they

both, in a moment, laid hold of Mr. Hervey, and forced him to alight;

which they did also themselves, still keeping fast hold of him, whom

surprise, shame, and rage, had hitherto kept silent.

Rascals! cried he, when he was able to speak, what do you mean by using

me in this manner? Do you suppose I had any intention to hurt the

lady?--What do you take me for?

For a ravisher, interrupted Arabella; an impious ravisher, who,

contrary to all laws both human and divine, endeavour to possess

yourself by force of a person whom you are not worthy to serve;

and whose charity and compassion you have returned with the utmost

ingratitude.

Upon my word, madam, said Mr. Hervey, I don't understand one word you

say: you either mistake me for some other person, or are pleased to

divert yourself with the surprise I am in. But I beseech you carry

the jest no farther, and order your servants to let me go; or, by

Heaven--cried he struggling to get loose, if I can but free one of my

hands, I'll stab the scoundrels before your face.

It is not with threats like these, resumed Arabella with great

calmness, that I can be moved. A little more submission and respect

would become you better; you are now wholly in my power; I may, if I

please, carry you to my father, and have you severely punished for

your attempt: but to show you, that I am as generous as you are base

and designing, I'll give you freedom, provided you promise me never to

appear before me again. But, in order to secure my own safety, you must

deliver up your arms to my servants, that I may be assured you will not

have it in your power to make a second attempt upon my liberty.

Mr. Hervey, whose astonishment was increased by every word she spoke,

began now to be apprehensive that this might prove a very serious

affair, since she seemed resolved to believe he had a design to carry

her off; and, knowing that an attempt of that nature upon an heiress

might have dangerous consequences, he resolved to accept the conditions

she offered him: but while he delivered his hanger to the servant, he

assured her in the strongest terms, that he had no other design in

riding up to her, but to have a nearer view of her person.

Add not falsehood, said Arabella sternly, to a crime already black

enough; for though, by an effect of my generosity, I have resolved not

to deliver you up to the resentment of my father, yet nothing shall

ever be able to make me pardon this outrage. Go, then, pursued she,

go, base man, unworthy of the care I took of thy safety; go to some

distant country, where I may never hear of thee more, and suffer me, if

possible, to lose the remembrance of thy crimes.

Saying this, she ordered her servants, who had got the hanger in their

possession, to set him at liberty, and mount their horses; which they

did immediately, and followed their lady, who rode with all imaginable

speed to the castle.

Mr. Hervey, not yet recovered from his surprise, stood some moments

considering the strange scene he had been witness to; and in which he

had, much against his will, appeared the principal character. As he was

not acquainted with Lady Bella's foible, he concluded her fears of him

were occasioned by her simplicity, and some misrepresentations that had

been made her by Lucy, who, he thought, had betrayed him; and, fearing

this ridiculous adventure would be soon made public, and himself

exposed to the sneers of his country acquaintance, he resolved to go

back to London as soon as possible.

The next day, pretending he had received a letter which obliged him to

set out immediately, he took leave of his cousin, heartily glad at the

escape he should make from his raillery; for he did not doubt but the

story would very soon be known, and told greatly to his disadvantage.

But Arabella, in order to be completely generous, a quality for which

all the heroines are famous, laid a command upon her two attendants

not to mention what had passed, giving them at the same time money to

secure their secrecy; and threatening them with her displeasure, if

they disobeyed.

Arabella, as soon as she had an opportunity, did not fail to acquaint

her faithful Lucy with the danger from which she had so happily

escaped, thanking Heaven at the same time with great devotion, for

having preserved her from the hands of the ravisher.

Two or three months rolled away, after this accident, without offering

any new adventure to our fair visionary; when her imagination, always

prepossessed with the same fantastic ideas, made her stumble upon

another mistake, equally absurd and ridiculous.

Chapter VII.

_In which some contradictions are very happily reconciled._

The marquis's head-gardener had received a young fellow into his

master's service, who had lived in several families of distinction. He

had a good face; was tolerably genteel; and having an understanding

something above his condition, joined to a great deal of _second-hand_

politeness, which he had contracted while he lived at London, he

appeared a very extraordinary person among the rustics who were his

fellow-servants.

Arabella, when she walked in the garden, had frequent opportunities

of seeing this young man, whom she observed with a very particular

attention. His person and air had something, she thought, very

distinguishing. When she condescended to speak to him about any

business he was employed in, she took notice that his answers were

framed in a language vastly superior to his condition; and the respect

he paid her had quite another air from that of the awkward civility of

the other servants.

Having discerned so many marks of a birth far from being mean, she

easily passed from an opinion that he was a gentleman, to a belief that

he was something more; and every new sight of him adding strength to

her suspicions, she remained, in a little time, perfectly convinced

that he was some person of quality, who, disguised in the habit of a

gardener, had introduced himself into her father's service, in order to

have an opportunity of declaring a passion to her, which must certainly

be very great, since it had forced him to assume an appearance so

unworthy of his noble extraction.

Wholly possessed with this thought, she set herself to observe him

more narrowly, and soon found out that he went very awkwardly about

his work; that he sought opportunities of being alone; that he threw

himself in her way as often as he could, and gazed on her very

attentively. She sometimes fancied she saw him endeavour to smother a

sigh when he answered her any question about his work; once saw him

leaning against a tree with his hands crossed upon his breast; and,

having lost a string of small pearls, which she remembered he had seen

her threading as she sat in one of the arbours, was persuaded he had

taken it up, and kept it for the object of his secret adoration.

She often wondered, indeed, that she did not find her name carved

on the trees, with some mysterious expressions of love; that he was

never discovered lying along the side of one of the little rivulets,

increasing the stream with his tears; nor, for three months that he

had lived there, had ever been sick of a fever caused by his grief and

the constraint he put upon himself in not declaring his passion. But

she considered again, that his fear of being discovered kept him from

amusing himself with making the trees bear the records of his secret

thoughts, or of indulging his melancholy in any manner expressive of

the condition of his soul; and, as for his not being sick, his youth,

and the strength of his constitution, might, even for a longer time,

bear him up against the assaults of a fever: but he appeared much

thinner and paler than he used to be; and she concluded, therefore,

that he must in time sink under the violence of his passion, or else

be forced to declare it to her, which she considered as a very great

misfortune; for, not finding in herself any disposition to approve his

love, she must necessarily banish him from her presence, for fear he

should have the presumption to hope that time might do any thing in

his favour; and it was possible also, that the sentence she would be

obliged to pronounce, might either cause his death, or force him to

commit some extravagant action, which would discover him to her father,

who would, perhaps, think her guilty of holding a secret correspondence

with him.

These thoughts perplexed her so much, that, hoping to find some relief

by unburdening her mind to Lucy, she told her all her uneasiness. Ah!

said she to her, looking upon Edward, who had just passed them, how

unfortunate do I think myself in being the cause of that passion which

makes this illustrious unknown wear away his days in so shameful an

obscurity! Yes, Lucy, pursued she, that Edward, whom you regard as

one of my father's menial servants, is a person of _sublime quality_,

who submits to this disguise only to have an opportunity of seeing

me every day. But why do you seem so surprised? Is it possible, that

you have not suspected him to be what he is? Has he never unwittingly

made any discovery of himself? Have you not surprised him in discourse

with his faithful squire, who certainly lurks hereabouts to receive

his commands, and is haply the confidant of his passion? Has he never

entertained you with any conversation about me? Or have you never seen

any valuable jewels in his possession by which you suspected him to be

not what he appears?

Truly, madam, replied Lucy, I never took him for any body else but a

simple gardener; but now you open my eyes, methinks I can find I have

been strangely mistaken; for he does not look like a man of low degree,

and he talks quite in another manner from our servants. I never heard

him indeed speak of your ladyship, but once; and that was, when he

first saw you walking in the garden, he asked our John if you was not

the marquis's daughter; and he said you was as beautiful as an angel.

As for fine jewels, I never saw any; and I believe he has none; but

he has a watch, and that looks as if he was something, madam: nor do

I remember to have seen him talk with any stranger that looked like a

squire.

Lucy, having thus with her usual punctuality, answered every question

her lady put to her, proceeded to ask her, what she should say, if he

should beg her to give her a letter as the other gentleman had done.

You must by no means take it, replied Arabella: my compassion had

before like to have been fatal to me. If he discovers his quality to

me, I shall know in what manner to treat him.

They were in this part of their discourse, when a noise they heard at

some distance, made Arabella bend her steps to the place from whence it

proceeded; and, to her infinite amazement, saw the head-gardener, with

a stick he had in his hand, give several blows to the concealed hero,

who suffered the indignity with admirable patience.

Shocked at seeing a person of sublime quality treated so unworthily,

she called out to the gardener to hold his hand; who immediately

obeyed; and Edward, seeing the young lady advance, sneaked off, with an

air very different from an Oroondates.

For what crime, pray, said Arabella, with a stern aspect, did you treat

the person I saw with you so cruelly? He whom you take such unbecoming

liberties with, may possibly--But again I ask you, what has he done?

You should make some allowance for his want of skill, in the abject

employment he is in at present.

It is not for his want of skill, madam, said the gardener, that I

corrected him; he knows his business very well, if he would mind it;

but, madam, I have discovered him--

Discovered him, do you say? interrupted Arabella: and has the knowledge

of his condition not been able to prevent such usage? Or rather, has it

been the occasion of his receiving it?

His conditions are very bad, madam, returned the gardener; and I am

afraid are such as will one day prove the ruin of body and soul too. I

have for some time suspected he had evil designs in his head; and just

now watched him to the fish-pond, and prevented him from--

O dear! interrupted Lucy, looking pitifully on her lady, whose fair

bosom heaved with compassion, I warrant he was going to make away with

himself.

No, resumed the gardener, smiling at the mistake, he was only going

to make away with some of the carp, which the rogue had caught, and

intended, I suppose, to sell; but I threw them into the water again;

and if your ladyship had not forbid me, I would have drubbed him

soundly for his pains.

Fie! fie! interrupted Arabella, out of breath with shame and vexation:

tell me no more of these idle tales.

Then, hastily walking on to hide the blushes which this strange

accusation of her illustrious lover had raised in her face, she

continued for some time in the greatest perplexity imaginable.

Lucy, who followed her, and could not possibly reconcile what her lady

had been telling her concerning Edward, with the circumstance of his

stealing the carp, ardently wished to hear her opinion of this matter;

but, seeing her deeply engaged with her own thoughts, she would not

venture to disturb her.

Arabella indeed had been in such a terrible consternation, that it

was some time before she even reconciled appearances to herself; but,

as she had a most happy facility in accommodating every incident to

her own wishes and conceptions, she examined this matter so many

different ways, drew so many conclusions, and fancied so many mysteries

in the most indifferent actions of the supposed noble unknown, that

she remained, at last, more than ever confirmed in the opinion that

he was some great personage, whom her beauty had forced to assume an

appearance unworthy of himself: when Lucy, no longer able to keep

silence, drew off her attention from those pleasing images, by speaking

of the carp-stealing affair again.

Arabella, whose confusion returned at that disagreeable sound, charged

her, in an angry tone, never to mention so injurious a suspicion any

more: For, in fine, said she to her, do you imagine a person of his

rank could be guilty of stealing carp? Alas! pursued she, sighing, he

had, indeed, some fatal design; and, doubtless, would have executed it,

had not this fellow so luckily prevented him.

But Mr. Woodbind, madam, said Lucy, saw the carp in his hand: I wonder

what he was going to do with them.

Still, resumed Arabella, extremely chagrined, still will you wound my

ears with that horrid sound? I tell you, obstinate and foolish wench,

that this unhappy man went thither to die; and if he really caught

the fish, it was to conceal his design from Woodbind: his great mind

could not suggest to him, that it was possible he might be suspected

of a baseness like that this ignorant fellow accused him of; therefore

he took no care about it, being wholly possessed by his despairing

thoughts.

However, madam, said Lucy, your ladyship may prevent his going to the

fish-pond again, by laying your commands upon him to live.

I shall do all that I ought, answered Arabella; but my care for the

safety of other persons must not make me forget what I owe to my own.

As she had always imputed Mr. Hervey's fancied attempt to carry her

away, to the letter she had written to him, upon which he had probably

founded his hopes of being pardoned for it, she resolved to be more

cautious for the future in giving such instances of her compassion; and

was at a great loss in what manner to comfort her despairing lover,

without raising expectations she had no inclination to confirm: but she

was delivered from her perplexity a few days after, by the news of his

having left the marquis's service; which she attributed to some new

design he had formed to obtain her; and Lucy, who always thought as

her lady did, was of the same opinion; though it was talked among the

servants, that Edward feared a discovery of more tricks, and resolved

not to stay till he was disgracefully dismissed.

Chapter VIII.

_In which a mistake, in point of ceremony, is rectified._

Arabella had scarce done thinking of this last adventure, when the

marquis communicated a piece of intelligence to her, which opened a

prospect of an infinite number of new ones.

His nephew, having just returned from his travels, was preparing to

come and pay him a visit in his retreat; and, as he always designed to

marry Arabella to this youth, of whom he was extremely fond, he told

his daughter of the intended visit of her cousin, whom she had not seen

since she was eight years old; and, for the first time, insinuated his

design of giving him to her for an husband.

Arabella, whose delicacy was extremely shocked at this abrupt

declaration of her father, could hardly hide her chagrin; for, though

she always intended to marry some time or other, as all the heroines

had done, yet she thought such an event ought to be brought about with

an infinite deal of trouble; and that it was necessary she should pass

to this state through a great number of cares, disappointments, and

distresses of various kinds, like them; that her lover should purchase

her with his sword from a crowd of rivals, and arrive to the possession

of her heart by many years of services and fidelity.

The impropriety of receiving a lover of her father's recommending

appeared in its strongest light. What lady in romance ever married

the man that was chosen for her? In those cases the remonstrances of

a parent are called persecutions; obstinate resistance, constancy and

courage; and an aptitude to dislike the person proposed to them, a

noble freedom of mind which disdains to love or hate by the caprice of

others.

Arabella, strengthening her own resolutions by those examples of heroic

disobedience, told her father, with great solemnity of accent, that

she would always obey him in all just and reasonable things; and,

being persuaded that he would never attempt to lay any force upon her

inclinations, she would endeavour to make them conformable to his, and

receive her cousin with that civility and friendship due to so near a

relation, and a person whom he honoured with his esteem.

The marquis, having had frequent occasions of admiring his daughter's

eloquence, did not draw any unpleasing conclusion from the nice

distinctions she made; and, being perfectly assured of her consent

whenever he demanded it, expected the arrival of his nephew with great

impatience.

Arabella, whose thoughts had been fully employed since this

conversation with her father, was indulging her meditations in one of

the most retired walks in the garden; when she was informed by Lucy,

that her cousin was come, and that the marquis had brought him into the

garden to look for her.

That instant they both entered the walk; when Arabella, prepossessed,

as she was, against any favourable thoughts of the young Glanville,

could not help betraying some surprise at the gracefulness of his

figure.

It must be confessed, said she to her attendant, with a smile, that

this lover my father has brought us, is no contemptible person:

nevertheless, I feel an invincible repugnance in myself against

receiving him in that character.

As she finished these words, the marquis came up, and presented Mr.

Glanville to her; who, saluting her with the freedom of a relation,

gave her a disgust that showed itself immediately in her fair face,

which was overspread with such a gloom, that the marquis was quite

astonished at it. Indeed Arabella, who expected he would hardly

have presumed to kiss her hand, was so surprised at his freedom, in

attempting her lips, that she not only expressed her indignation by

frowns, but gave him to understand he had mortally offended her.

Mr. Glanville, however, was neither surprised nor angry at her

resentment; but, imputing it to her country education, endeavoured to

rally her out of her ill humour; and the marquis, being glad to find a

behaviour, which he thought proceeded from her dislike of her cousin,

was only an effect of an over-scrupulous modesty, told her that Mr.

Glanville had committed no offence by saluting her, since that was a

civility which was granted to all strangers at the first interview, and

therefore could not be refused to a relation.

Since the world is so degenerated in its customs from what it was

formerly, said Arabella, with a smile full of contempt upon her cousin,

I am extremely happy in having lived in a solitude which has not yet

exposed me to the mortification of being a witness to manners I cannot

approve; for if every person I shall meet with for the future be so

deficient in their respects to ladies, as my cousin is, I shall not

care how much I am secluded from society.

But, dear Lady Bella, interrupted Mr. Glanville gaily, tell me, I

beseech you, how I must behave to please you; for I should be extremely

glad to be honoured with your good opinion.

The person, resumed she, whom I must teach how to acquire my good

opinion, will, I am afraid, hardly recompense me by his docility in

learning, for the pains I should be at in instructing him.

But, resumed Glanville, that I may avoid any more occasions of

offending you, only let me know how you would be approached for the

future.

Since, answered she, there is no necessity to renew the ceremony of

introducing you again to me, I have not a second affront of that kind

to apprehend; but I pray tell me, if all cavaliers are as presuming as

yourself; and if a relation of your sex does not think a modest embrace

from a lady a welcome sufficiently tender[1]?

Nay, cousin, cried Glanville, eagerly, I am now persuaded you are in

the right; an embrace is certainly to be preferred to a cold salute.

What would I give, that the marquis would introduce me a second time,

that I might be received with so delightful a welcome?

The vivacity with which he spoke this was so extremely disagreeable to

Arabella, that she turned from him abruptly, and, striking into another

walk, ordered Lucy to tell him she commanded him not to follow her.

Mr. Glanville, however, who had no notion of the exact obedience which

was expected from him, would have gone after her, notwithstanding this

prohibition, which Lucy delivered in a most peremptory manner, after

her lady's example: but the marquis, who had left the two young people

at liberty to discourse, and had walked on, that he might not interrupt

them, turning about, and seeing Glanville alone, called him to have

some private discourse with him; and, for that time, spared Arabella

the mortification of seeing her commands disobeyed.

[1] The heroines, though they think a kiss of the hand a great

condescension to a lover, and never grant it without blushes and

confusion; yet make no scruple to embrace him upon every short absence.

Chapter IX.

_In which a lover is severely punished for faults which the reader

never would have discovered, if he had not been told._

The marquis, though he had resolved to give Arabella to his nephew,

was desirous he should first receive some impressions of tenderness

for her, before he absolutely declared his resolution; and ardently

wished he might be able to overcome that reluctance which she seemed

to have for marriage: but, though Glanville in a very few days became

passionately in love with his charming cousin, yet she discovered so

strong a dislike to him, that the marquis feared it would be difficult

to make her receive him for an husband: he observed she took all

opportunities of avoiding his conversation; and seemed always out of

temper when he addressed any thing to her; but was well enough pleased,

when he discoursed with him; and would listen to the long conversations

they had together with great attention.

The truth is, she had too much discernment not to see Mr. Glanville had

a great deal of merit: his person was perfectly handsome; he possessed

a great share of understanding, an easy temper, and a vivacity which

charmed every one, but the insensible Arabella.

She often wondered, that a man, who, as she told her confidante,

was master of so many fine qualities, should have a disposition so

little capable of feeling the passion of love, with the delicacy and

fervour she expected to inspire; or that he, whose conversation was

so pleasing on every other subject, should make so poor a figure when

he entertained her with matters of gallantry. However, added she, I

should be to blame to desire to be beloved by Mr. Glanville; for I am

persuaded that passion would cause no reformation in the coarseness of

his manners to ladies, which makes him so disagreeable to me, and might

possibly increase my aversion.

The marquis, having studied his nephew's looks for several days,

thought he saw inclination enough in them for Arabella, to make him

receive the knowledge of his intention with joy: he, therefore, called

him into his closet, and told him in few words, that, if his heart

was not pre-engaged, and his daughter capable of making him happy, he

resolved to bestow her upon him, together with all his estates.

Mr. Glanville received this agreeable news with the strongest

expressions of gratitude; assuring his uncle, that Lady Bella, of all

the women he had ever seen, was most agreeable to his taste; and that

he felt for her all the tenderness and affection his soul was capable

of.

I am glad of it, my dear nephew, said the marquis, embracing him: I

will allow you, added he smiling, but a few weeks to court her: gain

her heart as soon as you can, and when you bring me her consent, your

marriage shall be solemnized immediately.

Mr. Glanville needed not a repetition of so agreeable a command: he

left his uncle's closet, with his heart filled with the expectation

of his approaching happiness; and, understanding Arabella was in the

garden, he went to her with a resolution to acquaint her with the

permission her father had given him to make his addresses to her.

He found his fair cousin, as usual, accompanied with her women; and,

seeing that, notwithstanding his approach, they still continued to

walk with her, and impatient of the restraint they laid him under, I

beseech you, cousin, said he, let me have the pleasure of walking with

you alone: what necessity is there for always having so many witnesses

of our conversation? You may retire, said he, speaking to Lucy, and the

other woman; I have something to say to your lady in private.

Stay, I command you, said Arabella, blushing at an insolence so

uncommon, and take orders from no one but myself.--I pray you, Sir,

pursued she frowning, what intercourse of secrets is there between

you and me, that you expect I should favour you with a private

conversation? An advantage which none of your sex ever boasted to have

gained from me; and which, haply, you should be the last upon whom I

should bestow it.

You have the strangest notions, answered Glanville, smiling at

the pretty anger she discovered: certainly you may hold a private

conversation with any gentleman, without giving offence to decorum; and

I may plead a right to this happiness, above any other, since I have

the honour to be your relation.

It is not at all surprising, resumed Arabella gravely, that you and I

should differ in opinion upon this occasion: I don't remember that ever

we agreed in any thing; and, I am apt to believe, we never shall.

Ah! don't say so, Lady Bella, interrupted he: what a prospect of misery

you lay before me! For, if we are always to be opposite to each other,

it is necessary you must hate me as much as I admire and love you.

These words, which he accompanied with a gentle pressure of her hand,

threw the astonished Arabella into such an excess of anger and shame,

that, for a few moments, she was unable to utter a word.

What a horrid violation this, of all the laws of gallantry and

respect, which decree a lover to suffer whole years in silence before

he declares his flame to the divine object that causes it; and then

with awful tremblings and submissive prostrations at the feet of the

offended fair!

Arabella could hardly believe her senses when she heard a declaration,

not only made without the usual forms, but also, that the presumptuous

criminal waited for an answer, without seeming to have any apprehension

of the punishment to which he was to be doomed; and that, instead of

deprecating her wrath, he looked with a smiling wonder upon her eyes,

as if he did not fear their lightning would strike him dead.

Indeed, it was scarce possible for him to help smiling, and wondering

too, at the extraordinary action of Arabella; for, as soon as he had

pronounced those fatal words, she started back two or three steps; cast

a look at him full of the highest indignation; and, lifting up her fine

eyes to heaven, seemed, in the language of romance, to accuse the gods

for subjecting her to so cruel an indignity.

The tumult of her thoughts being a little settled, she turned

again towards Glanville, whose countenance expressing nothing of

that confusion and anxiety common to an adorer in so critical a

circumstance, her rage returned with greater violence than ever.

If I do not express all the resentment your insolence has filled me

with, said she to him, affecting more scorn than anger, it is because

I hold you too mean for my resentment; but never hope for my pardon

for your presumptuous confession of a passion I could almost despise

myself for inspiring. If it be true that you love me, go and find your

punishment in that absence to which I doom you; and never hope I will

suffer a person in my presence, who has affronted me in the manner you

have done.

Saying this, she walked away, making a sign to him not to follow her.

Mr. Glanville, who was at first disposed to laugh at the strange

manner in which she received his expressions of esteem for her, found

something so extremely haughty and contemptuous in the speech she had

made, that he was almost mad with vexation.

As he had no notion of his cousin's heroic sentiments, and had never

read romances, he was quite ignorant of the nature of his offence;

and, supposing the scorn she had expressed for him was founded upon

the difference of their rank and fortune, his pride was so sensibly

mortified at that thought, and at her so insolently forbidding him her

presence, that he was once inclined to show his resentment of such

ungenteel usage, by quitting the castle without taking leave even of

the marquis, who, he thought, could not be ignorant of the reception he

was likely to meet with from his daughter; and ought to have guarded

him against it, if he really meant him so well as he seemed to do.

As he was extremely violent and hasty in his resolutions, and nicely

sensible of the least affront, he was not in a condition to reason

justly upon the marquis's conduct in this affair; and while he was

fluctuating with a thousand different resolutions, Lucy came to him

with a billet from her lady, which she delivered without staying till

he opened it; and was superscribed in this manner:

"ARABELLA, TO THE MOST PRESUMPTUOUS MAN IN THE WORLD----

"You seem to acknowledge so little respect and deference

for the commands of a lady, that I am afraid it will be

but too necessary to reiterate that, which, at parting,

I laid upon you: know then, that I absolutely insist

upon your repairing, in the only manner you are able,

the affront you have put upon me; which is, by never

appearing before me again. If you think proper to confine

me to my chamber, by continuing here any longer, you will

add disobedience to the crime by which you have already

mortally offended

"ARABELLA."

The superscription of this letter, and the uncommon style of it,

persuaded Mr. Glanville that what he had been foolish enough to resent

as an affront, was designed as a jest, and meant to divert him as

well as herself: he examined her behaviour again, and wondered at

his stupidity in not discovering it before. His resentment vanishing

immediately, he returned to the house; and went, without ceremony, to

Arabella's apartment, which he entered before she perceived him, being

in a profound musing at one of the windows: the noise he made, in

approaching her, obliged her at last to look up; when, starting, as if

she had seen a basilisk, she flew to her closet, and shutting the door

with great violence, commanded him to leave her chamber immediately.

Mr. Glanville, still supposing her in jest, entreated her to open the

door; but, finding she continued obstinate, Well, said he, going away,

I shall be revenged on you some time hence, and make you repent the

tricks you play me now.

Arabella not being able to imagine any thing, by these words he spoke

in raillery, but that he really, in the spite and anguish of his

heart, threatened her with executing some terrible enterprise; she

did not doubt, but he either intended to carry her away; or, thinking

her aversion to him proceeded from his having a rival happy enough to

be esteemed by her, those mysterious words he had uttered related to

his design of killing him; so that as she knew he could discover no

rival to wreak his revenge upon, she feared that, at once to satisfy

that passion as well as his love, he would make himself master of her

liberty: For, in fine, said she to Lucy, to whom she communicated all

her thoughts, have I not every thing to apprehend from a man who knows

so little how to treat my sex with the respect which is our due; and

who, after having, contrary to the timorous nature of that passion,

insulted me with a free declaration of love, treated my commands with

the utmost contempt by appearing before me again; and even threatens me

with the revenge he is meditating at this moment?

Had Mr. Glanville been present, and heard the terrible misfortunes

which she presaged from the few words he had jestingly spoke, he would

certainly have made her quite furious, by the diversion her mistake

would have afforded him. But the more she reflected on his words, the

more she was persuaded of the terrible purpose of them.

It was in vain to acquaint her father with the reasons she had for

disliking his choice: his resolution was fixed, and if she did not

voluntarily conform to it, she exposed herself to the attempts of a

violent and unjust lover, who would either prevail upon the marquis

to lay a force upon her inclinations, or make himself master of her

person, and never cease persecuting her, till he had obliged her to

give him her hand.

Having reasoned herself into a perfect conviction that all these things

must necessarily happen, she thought it both just and reasonable

to provide for her own security by a speedy flight. The want of a

precedent, indeed, for an action of this nature, held her a few moments

in suspense; for she did not remember to have read of any heroine that

voluntarily left her father's house, however persecuted she might be:

but she considered, that there was not any of the ladies in romances,

in the same circumstances with herself, who was without a favoured

lover, for whose sake it might have been believed she had made an

elopement, which would have been highly prejudicial to her glory; and,

as there was no foundation for any suspicion of that kind in her case,

she thought there was nothing to hinder her from withdrawing from a

tyrannical exertion of parental authority, and the secret machinations

of a lover, whose aim was to take away her liberty, either by obliging

her to marry him, or by making her a prisoner.

Chapter X.

_Contains several incidents, in which the reader is expected to be

extremely interested._

Arabella had spent some hours in her closet, revolving a thousand

different stratagems to escape from the misfortune that threatened

her; when she was interrupted by Lucy, who, after desiring admittance,

informed her, that the marquis, having rode out to take the air that

evening, had fallen from his horse and received some hurt; that he was

gone to bed, and desired to see her.

Arabella, hearing her father was indisposed, ran to him, excessively

alarmed; and reflecting on the resolution she had just before taken,

of leaving him, which aggravated her concern, she came to his bed-side

with her eyes swimming in tears. Mr. Glanville was sitting near

him; but, rising at her appearance to give her his chair, which she

accepted without taking any notice of him, he stood at some distance

contemplating her face, to which sorrow had given so many charms, that

he gazed on her with an eagerness and delight that could not escape her

observation.

She blushed excessively at the passionate looks he gave her; and,

finding the marquis's indisposition not considerable enough to

oblige her to a constant attendance at his bed-side, she took the

first opportunity of returning to her chamber; but as she was going

out, Glanville presented his hand to lead her up stairs: which she

scornfully refusing;

Sure, cousin, said he, a little piqued, you are not disposed to carry

on your ill-natured jest any further?

If you imagined I jested with you, said Arabella, I am rather to accuse

the slowness of your understanding, for your persisting in treating me

thus freely, than the insolence I first imputed it to: but, whatever is

the cause of it, I now tell you again, that you have extremely offended

me; and, if my father's illness did not set bounds to my resentment at

present, I would make you know, that I would not suffer the injury you

do me, so patiently.

Since you would have me to believe you are serious, replied Glanville,

be pleased to let me know what offence it is you complain of; for I

protest I am quite at a loss to understand you.

Was it not enough, resumed Arabella, to affront me with an insolent

declaration of your passion, but you must also, in contempt of my

commands to the contrary, appear before me again, pursue me to my

chamber, and use the most brutal menaces to me?

Hold, pray, madam, interrupted Glanville, and suffer me to ask you, if

it is my presumption, in declaring myself your admirer that you are so

extremely offended at?

Doubtless it is, sir, answered Arabella; and such a presumption, as,

without the aggravating circumstances you have since added to it, is

sufficient to make me always your enemy.

I beg pardon, returned Mr. Glanville gravely, for that offence; and

also, for staying any longer in a house which you have so genteelly

turned me out of.

My pardon, Mr. Glanville, resumed she, is not so easily gained: time,

and your repentance, may, indeed, do much towards obtaining it.

Saying this, she made a sign to him to retire, for he had walked up

with her to her chamber: but, finding he did not obey her, for really

he was quite unacquainted with these sorts of dumb commands, she

hastily retired to her closet, lest he should attempt to move her pity

by any expressions of despair for the cruel banishment she had doomed

him to.

Mr. Glanville, seeing she had shut herself up in her closet, left her

chamber, and retired to his own, more confounded than ever at the

behaviour of his cousin.

Her bidding him so peremptorily to leave the house, would have equally

persuaded him of her ignorance and ill-breeding, had not the elegance

of her manners, in every other respect, proved the contrary; nor was

it possible to doubt she had a great share of understanding, since her

conversation, singular as some of her sentiments seemed to him, was

far superior to most other ladies. Therefore, he concluded the affront

he had received proceeded from her disdain to admit the addresses of

any person whose quality was inferior to hers; which, probably, was

increased to some particular dislike she had to his person.

His honour would not permit him to make use of that advantage her

father's authority could give him; and, wholly engrossed by his

resentment of the usage he had received from her, he resolved to set

out for London the next day without seeing the marquis, from whom he

was apprehensive of some endeavours to detain him.

Having taken this resolution, he ordered his servant to have the horses

ready early in the morning; and, without taking any notice of his

intention, he left the castle, riding, as fast as possible to the next

stage, from whence he wrote to his uncle; and, dispatching a messenger

with his letter, held on his way to London.

The marquis, being pretty well recovered from his indisposition by a

good night's rest, sent for Mr. Glanville in the morning, to walk with

him, as was his custom, in the garden; but, hearing he had rode out,

though he imagined it was only to take the air, yet he could not help

accusing him, in his own thoughts, of a little neglect; for which he

resolved to chide him, when he returned: but his long stay filling

him with some surprise, he was beginning to express his fears that

something had befallen him, to Arabella, who was then with him; when a

servant presented him the letter, which Mr. Glanville's messenger had

that moment brought.

The marquis casting his eyes on the direction, and knowing his nephew's

hand, Bless me! cried he, extremely surprised, what can this mean?

Bella, added he, here's a letter from your cousin.

Arabella, at these words, started up; and, preventing her father, with

a respectful action, from opening it, I beseech you, my lord, said

she, before you read this letter, suffer me to assure you, that if it

contains any thing fatal, I am not at all accessary to it: it is true I

have banished my cousin, as a punishment for the offence he was guilty

of towards me; but, Heaven is my witness, I did not design his death;

and if he has taken any violent resolution against himself, he has

greatly exceeded my commands.

The marquis, whose surprise was considerably increased by these words,

hastily broke open the letter, which she perceiving, hurried out of the

room; and, locking herself up in her closet, began to bewail the effect

of her charms, as if she was perfectly assured of her cousin's death.

The marquis, however, who, from Lady Bella's exclamation, had prepared

himself for the knowledge of some very extraordinary accident, was less

surprised than he would otherwise have been at the contents; which were

as follow:--

"MY LORD,

"As my leaving your house so abruptly will certainly

make me appear guilty of a most unpardonable rudeness,

I cannot dispense with myself from acquainting your

lordship with the cause; though, to spare the reproaches

Lady Bella will probably cast on me for doing so, I could

wish you knew it by any other means.

"But, my lord, I value your esteem too much to hazard the

loss of it by suffering you to imagine, that I am capable

of doing any thing to displease you. Lady Bella was

pleased to order me to stay no longer in the house; and

menaced me with some very terrible usage, if I disobeyed

her: she used so many other contemptuous expressions to

me, that, I am persuaded, I shall never be so happy as to

possess the honour you designed for, my lord, your most

obedient, &c.

"CHARLES GLANVILLE."

When the marquis had read this letter, he went to his daughter's

apartment with an intention to chide her severely for her usage of his

nephew; but, seeing her come to meet him with her eyes bathed in tears,

he insensibly lost some part of his resentment.

Alas! my lord, said she, I know you come prepared to load me with

reproaches, upon my cousin's account; but, I beseech your lordship, do

not aggravate my sorrows: though I banished Mr. Glanville, I did not

desire his death; and, questionless, if he knew how I _resent_ it, his

ghost would be satisfied with the sacrifice I make him.

The marquis, not being able to help smiling at this conceit, which he

saw had so strongly possessed her imagination, that she had no sort of

doubt but that her cousin was dead, asked her, if she really believed

Mr. Glanville loved her well enough to die with grief at her ill usage

of him?

If, said she, he loves me not well enough to die for me, he certainly

loves me but little; and I am the less obliged to him.

But I desire to know, interrupted the marquis, for what crime it was

you took the liberty to banish him from my house?

I banished him, my lord, resumed she, for his presumption in telling me

he loved me.

That presumption, as you call it, though I know not for what reason,

said the marquis, was authorised by me: therefore, know, Bella, that I

not only permit him to love you, but I also expect you should endeavour

to return his affection; and look upon him as the man whom I design

for your husband: there's his letter, pursued he, putting it into her

hand. I blush for the rudeness you have been guilty of; but endeavour

to repair it, by a more obliging behaviour for the future: I am going

to send after him immediately to prevail upon him to return: therefore,

write him an apology, I charge you; and have it done by the time my

messenger is ready to set out.

Saying this, he went out of the room; Arabella eagerly opened the

letter; and, finding it in a style so different from what she expected,

her dislike of him returned with more violence than ever.

Ah! the traitor! said she aloud, is it thus that he endeavours to

move my compassion? How greatly did I over-rate his affection, when

I imagined his despair was capable of killing him? Disloyal man!

pursued she, walking about, is it by complaints to my father that thou

expectest to succeed? And dost thou imagine the heart of Arabella is to

be won by violence and injustice?

In this manner she wasted the time allotted for her to write; and, when

the marquis sent for her letter, having no intention to comply, she

went to his chamber, conjuring him not to oblige her to a condescension

so unworthy of her.

The marquis, being now excessively angry with her, rose up in a fury,

and, leading her to his writing-desk, ordered her, instantly, to write

to her cousin.

If I must write, my lord, said she, sobbing, pray be so good as to

dictate what I must say.

Apologize for your rude behaviour, said the marquis; and desire him, in

the most obliging manner you can, to return.

Arabella, seeing there was a necessity for obeying, took up the pen,

and wrote the following billet:

"THE UNFORTUNATE ARABELLA, TO THE MOST UNGENEROUS

GLANVILLE.

"It is not by the power I have over you, that I command

you to return, for I disclaim any empire over so unworthy

a subject; but, since it is my father's pleasure I should

invite you back, I must let you know, that I repeal your

banishment, and expect you will immediately return with

the messenger who brings this. However, to spare your

acknowledgments, know, that it is in obedience to my

father's absolute commands, that you receive this mandate

from

"ARABELLA."

Having finished this billet, she gave it to the marquis to read; who,

finding a great deal of his own haughtiness of temper in it, could not

resolve to check her for a disposition so like his own: yet, he told

her, her style was very uncommon. And pray, added he, smiling, who

taught you to superscribe your letters thus? "The unfortunate Arabella,

to the most ungenerous Glanville." Why, Bella, this superscription is

wholly calculated for the bearer's information: but come, alter it

immediately; for I don't choose my messenger should know, that you are

unfortunate, or that my nephew is ungenerous.

Pray, my lord, replied Arabella, content yourself with what I have

already done in obedience to your commands, and suffer my letter to

remain as it is: methinks it is but reasonable I should express some

little resentment at the complaint my cousin has been pleased to make

to you against me; nor can I possibly make my letter more obliging,

without being guilty of an unpardonable meanness.

You are a strange girl, replied the marquis, taking the letter, and

enclosing it in one from himself; in which he earnestly entreated his

nephew to return, threatening him with his displeasure if he disobeyed;

and assuring him, that his daughter would receive him as well as he

could possibly desire.

The messenger being dispatched, with orders to ride post, and overtake

the young gentleman, he obeyed his orders so well, that he came up with

him at ----, where he intended to lodge that night.

Mr. Glanville, who expected his uncle would make use of some methods

to recall him, opened his letter without any great emotion; but seeing

another enclosed, his heart leaped to his mouth, not doubting but it

was a letter from Arabella; but the contents surprised him so much,

that he hardly knew whether he ought to look upon them as an invitation

to return, or a new affront, her words were so distant and haughty.

The superscription being much the same with a billet he had received

from her in the garden, which had made him conclude her in jest, he

knew not what to think of it. One would swear this dear girl's head is

turned, said he to himself, if she had not more _wit_ than her whole

sex besides.

After reading Arabella's letter several times, he at last opened his

uncle's; and, seeing the pressing instances he made him to return, he

resolved to obey; and the next morning he set out for the castle.

Arabella, during the time her cousin was expected, appeared so

melancholy and reserved, that the marquis was extremely uneasy. You

have never, said he to her, disobeyed me in any one action of your

life; and I may with reason expect you will conform to my will in the

choice I have made of a husband for you, since it is impossible to make

any objection either to his person or mind; and, being the son of my

sister, he is certainly not unworthy of you, though he has not a title.

My first wish, my lord, replied Arabella, is to live single, not being

desirous of entering into any engagement which may hinder my solicitude

and cares, and lessen my attendance, upon the best of fathers, who,

till now, has always most tenderly complied with my inclinations in

every thing: but if it is your absolute command, that I should marry,

give me not to one, who, though he has the honour to be allied to you,

has neither merited your esteem, nor my favour, by any action worthy

of his birth, or the passion he pretends to have for me; for, in fine,

my lord, by what services has he deserved the distinction with which

you honour him? Has he ever delivered you from any considerable danger?

Has he saved your life, and hazarded his own for you, upon any occasion

whatever? Has he merited my esteem, by his sufferings, fidelity, and

respect; or, by any great and generous action, given me a testimony

of his love, which should oblige me to reward him with my affection?

Ah! my lord, I beseech you, think not so unworthily of your daughter,

as to bestow her upon one who has done so little to deserve her: if

my happiness be dear to you, do not precipitate me into a state from

whence you cannot recall me, with a person whom I can never affect.

She would have gone on, but the marquis interrupted her sternly: I'll

hear no more, said he, of your foolish and ridiculous objections. What

stuff is this you talk of? What service am I to expect from my nephew?

And by what sufferings is he to merit your esteem? Assure yourself,

Arabella, continued he, that I will never pardon you, if you presume

to treat my nephew in the manner you have done. I perceive you have no

real objection to make to him: therefore I expect you will endeavour

to obey me without reluctance; for, since you seem to be so little

acquainted with what will most conduce to your own happiness, you must

not think it strange, if I insist upon directing your choice in the

most important business of your life.

Arabella was going to reply, but the marquis ordered her to be silent;

and she went to her own apartment in so much affliction, that she

thought her misfortunes were not exceeded by any she had ever read.

Chapter XI.

_In which a logical argument is unseasonably interrupted._

The marquis was also extremely uneasy at her obstinacy: he desired

nothing more ardently than to marry her to his nephew; but he could

not resolve to force her consent; and, however determined he appeared

to her, yet, in reality, he intended only to use persuasions to effect

what he desired; and, from the natural sweetness of her temper, he was

sometimes not without hopes that she might at last be prevailed upon to

comply.

His nephew's return restored him to part of his usual tranquillity:

after he had gently chid him for suffering himself to be so far

transported with his resentment at the little humours of a lady, as to

leave his house without acquainting him, he bade him go to Arabella,

and endeavour to make his peace with her.

Mr. Glanville accordingly went to her apartment, resolving to oblige

her to come to some explanation with him concerning the offence she

complained of; but that fair incensed lady, who had taken shelter in

her closet, ordered Lucy to tell him she was indisposed, and could not

see him.

Glanville, however, comforted himself for this disappointment by the

hopes of seeing her at supper; and accordingly she came, when the

supper-bell rung, and, making a very cool compliment to her cousin,

placed herself at table. The soft languor that appeared in her eyes,

gave such an additional charm to one of the loveliest faces in the

world, that Glanville, who sat opposite to her, could not help gazing

on her with a very particular attention; he often spoke to her, and

asked her trifling questions, for the sake of hearing the sound of her

voice, which sorrow had made enchantingly sweet.

When supper was over, she would have retired; but the marquis desired

her to stay and entertain her cousin, while he went to look over some

dispatches he had received from London.

Arabella blushed with anger at this command; but not daring to disobey,

she kept her eyes fixed on the ground, as if she dreaded to hear

something that would displease her.

Well, cousin, said Glanville, though you desire to have no empire over

so unworthy a subject as myself, yet I hope you are not displeased at

my returning, in obedience to your commands.

Since I am not allowed any will of my own, said she, sighing, it

matters not whether I am pleased or displeased; nor is it of any

consequence to you to know.

Indeed but it is, Lady Bella, interrupted he; for if I knew how to

please you, I would never, if I could help it, offend. Therefore, I

beg you, tell me how I have disobliged you; for, certainly, you have

treated me as harshly as if I had been guilty of some very terrible

offence.

You had the boldness, said she, to talk to me of love; and you well

know that persons of my sex and quality are not permitted to listen to

such discourses; and if, for that offence, I banished you my presence,

I did no more than decency required of me; and which I would yet do,

were I mistress of my own actions.

But is it possible, cousin, said Glanville, that you can be angry with

any one for loving you? Is that a crime of so high a nature as to merit

an eternal banishment from your presence?

Without telling you, said Arabella, blushing, whether I am angry at

being loved, it is sufficient you know, that I will not pardon the man

who shall have the presumption to tell me he loves me.

But, madam, interrupted Glanville, if the person who tells you he

loves you, be of a rank not beneath you, I conceive you are not at all

injured by the favourable sentiments he feels for you; and, though

you are not disposed to make any returns to his passion, yet you are

certainly obliged to him for his good opinion.

Since love is not voluntary, replied Arabella, I am not obliged to any

person for loving me; for, questionless, if he could help it, he would.

If it is not a voluntary favour, interrupted Glanville, it is not a

voluntary offence; and if you do not think yourself obliged by the one,

neither are you at liberty to be offended with the other.

The question, said Arabella, is not whether I ought to be offended at

being loved, but whether it is not an offence to be told I am so.

If there is nothing criminal in the passion itself, madam, resumed

Glanville, certainly there can be no crime in declaring it.

However specious your arguments may appear, interrupted Arabella, I

am persuaded it is an unpardonable crime to tell a lady you love her;

and though I had nothing else to plead, yet the authority of custom is

sufficient to prove it.

Custom, Lady Bella, said Glanville, smiling, is wholly on my side; for

the ladies are so far from being displeased at the addresses of their

lovers, that their chiefest care is to gain them, and their greatest

triumph to hear them talk of their passion: so, madam, I hope you'll

allow that argument has no force.

I do not know, answered Arabella, what sort of ladies they are who

allow such unbecoming liberties, but I am certain, that Statira,

Parisatis, Clelia, Mandana, and all the illustrious heroines of

antiquity, whom it is a glory to resemble, would never admit of such

discourses.

Ah! for Heaven's sake, cousin, interrupted Glanville, endeavouring

to stifle a laugh, do not suffer yourself to be governed by such

antiquated maxims! The world is quite different to what it was in those

days; and the ladies in this age would as soon follow the fashions of

the Greek and Roman ladies, as mimic their manners; and I believe they

would become one as well as the other.

I am sure, replied Arabella, the world is not more virtuous now than it

was in their days, and there is good reason to believe it is not much

wiser; and I don't see why the manners of this age are to be preferred

to those of former ones, unless they are wiser and better: however, I

cannot be persuaded, that things are as you say; but that when I am a

little better acquainted with the world, I shall find as many persons

who resemble Oroondates, Artaxerxes, and the illustrious lover of

Clelia, as those who are like Tiribases, Artaxes, and the presuming and

insolent Glanville.

By the epithets you give me, madam, said Glanville, I find you have

placed me in very bad company: but pray, madam, if the illustrious

lover of Clelia had never discovered his passion, how would the world

have come to the knowledge of it?

He did not discover his passion, sir, resumed Arabella, till, by the

services he did the noble Clelius, and his incomparable daughter, he

could plead some title to their esteem: he several times preserved the

life of that renowned Roman; delivered the beautiful Clelia when she

was a captive; and, in fine, conferred so many obligations upon them,

and all their friends, that he might well expect to be pardoned by the

divine Clelia for daring to love her. Nevertheless, she used him very

harshly when he first declared his passion, and banished him also from

her presence; and it was a long time before she could prevail upon

herself to compassionate his sufferings.

The marquis coming in interrupted Arabella; upon which she took

occasion to retire, leaving Glanville more captivated with her than

ever.

He found her usage of him was grounded upon examples she thought it her

duty to follow; and, strange as her notions of life appeared, yet they

were supported with so much wit and delicacy, that he could not help

admiring her, while he foresaw the oddity of her humour would throw

innumerable difficulties in his way, before he should be able to obtain

her.

However, as he was really passionately in love with her, he resolved to

accommodate himself, as much as possible, to her taste, and endeavour

to gain her heart by a behaviour most agreeable to her: he therefore

assumed an air of great distance and respect; never mentioned his

affection, nor the intentions of her father in his favour; and the

marquis observing his daughter conversed with him with less reluctance

than usual, leaving to time, and the merit of his nephew, to dispose

her to comply with his desires, resolved not to interpose his authority

in an affair upon which her own happiness so much depended.

Chapter XII.

_In which the reader will find a specimen of the true pathetic, in a

speech of Oroondates. The adventure of the books._

Arabella saw the change in her cousin's behaviour with a great deal

of satisfaction; for she did not doubt but his passion was as strong

as ever; but that he forbore, through respect, from entertaining her

with any expressions of it: therefore she now conversed with him with

the greatest sweetness and complaisance; she would walk with him for

several hours in the garden, leaning upon his arm; and charmed him to

the last degree of admiration by the agreeable sallies of her wit, and

her fine reasoning upon every subject he proposed.

It was with the greatest difficulty he restrained himself from telling

her a thousand times a day that he loved her to excess, and conjuring

her to give her consent to her father's designs in his favour: but,

though he could get over his fears of offending her, yet it was

impossible to express any sentiments of this nature to her, without

having her women witnesses of his discourse; for when he walked with

her in the garden, Lucy and another attendant always followed her: if

he sat with her in her own chamber, her women were always at one end

of it; and when they were both in the marquis's apartment, where her

women did not follow her, poor Glanville found himself embarrassed

by his presence; for, conceiving his nephew had opportunities enough

of talking to his daughter in private, he always partook of their

conversation.

He passed some weeks in this manner, extremely chagrined at the little

progress he made; and was beginning to be heartily weary of the

constraint he laid upon himself, when Arabella one day furnished him,

without designing it, with an opportunity of talking to her on the

subject he wished for.

When I reflect, said she, laughing, upon the difference there was

between us some days ago, and the familiarity in which we live at

present, I cannot imagine by what means you have arrived to a good

fortune you had so little reason to expect; for, in fine, you have

given me no signs of repentance for the fault you committed, which

moved me to banish you; and I am not certain whether, in conversing

with you in the manner I do, I give you not as much reason to find

fault with my too great easiness, as you did me to be displeased with

your presumption.

Since, returned Glanville, I have not persisted in the commission of

those faults which displeased you, what greater signs of repentance can

you desire, than this reformation in my behaviour?

But repentance ought to precede reformation, replied Arabella,

otherwise there is great room to suspect it is only feigned: and

a sincere repentance shows itself in such visible marks, that one

can hardly be deceived in that which is genuine. I have read of

many indiscreet lovers, who not succeeding in their addresses, have

pretended to repent, and acted as you do; that is, without giving

any signs of contrition for the fault they had committed, have eat

and slept well, never lost their colour, or grew one bit thinner, by

their sorrow; but contented themselves with saying they repented; and,

without changing their disposition to renew their fault, only concealed

their intention, for fear of losing any favourable opportunity of

committing it again: but true repentance, as I was saying, not only

produces reformation, but the person who is possessed of it voluntarily

punishes himself for the faults he has been guilty of. Thus Mazares,

deeply repenting of the crime his passion for the divine Mandana had

forced him to commit; as a punishment, obliged himself to follow the

fortune of his glorious rival; obey all his commands; and, fighting

under his banners, assist him to gain the possession of his adored

mistress. Such a glorious instance of self-denial was, indeed, a

sufficient proof of his repentance; and infinitely more convincing than

the silence he imposed upon himself with respect to his passion.

Oroondates, to punish himself for his presumption, in daring to tell

the admirable Statira that he loved her, resolved to die, to expiate

his crime; and, doubtless, would have done so, if his fair mistress, at

the entreaty of her brother, had not commanded him to live.

But pray, Lady Bella, interrupted Glanville, were not these gentlemen

happy at last in the possession of their mistresses?

Doubtless they were, sir, resumed she; but it was not till after

numberless misfortunes, infinite services, and many dangerous

adventures, in which their fidelity was put to the strongest trials

imaginable.

I am glad, however, said Glanville, that the ladies were not

insensible; for, since you do not disapprove of their compassion for

their lovers, it is to be hoped you will not be always as inexorable as

you are now.

When I shall be so fortunate, interrupted she, to meet with a lover

who shall have as pure and perfect a passion for me, as Oroondates had

for Statira; and give me as many glorious proofs of his constancy and

affection, doubtless I shall not be ungrateful: but, since I have not

the merits of Statira, I ought not to pretend to her good fortune; and

shall be very well contented if I escape the persecutions which persons

of my sex, who are not frightfully ugly, are always exposed to, without

hoping to inspire such a passion as that of Oroondates.

I should be glad to be better acquainted with the actions of this happy

lover, madam, said Glanville; that, forming myself upon his example, I

may hope to please a lady as worthy of my regard as Statira was of his.

For heaven's sake, cousin, resumed Arabella, laughing, how have you

spent your time; and to what studies have you devoted your hours, that

you could find none to spare for the perusal of books from which all

useful knowledge may be drawn; which give us the most shining examples

of generosity, courage, virtue, and love; which regulate our actions,

form our manners, and inspire us with a noble desire of emulating

those great, heroic, and virtuous actions, which made those persons so

glorious in their age, and so worthy imitation in ours? However, as it

is never too late to improve, suffer me to recommend to you the reading

of these books, which will soon make you discover the improprieties you

have been guilty of; and will, probably, induce you to avoid them for

the future.

I shall certainly read them, if you desire it, said Glanville; and

I have so great an inclination to be agreeable to you, that I shall

embrace every opportunity of becoming so; and will therefore take my

instructions from these books, if you think proper, or from yourself;

which, indeed, will be the quickest method of teaching me.

Arabella having ordered one of her women to bring Cleopatra, Cassandra,

Clelia, and the Grand Cyrus from her library, Glanville no sooner saw

the girl return, sinking under the weight of those voluminous romances,

but he began to tremble at the apprehension of his cousin laying her

commands upon him to read them; and repented of his complaisance, which

exposed him to the cruel necessity of performing what to him appeared

an Herculean labour, or else incurring her anger by his refusal.

Arabella, making her women place the books upon a table before her,

opened them, one after another, with eyes sparkling with delight; while

Glanville sat wrapt in admiration at the sight of so many huge folios

written, as he conceived, upon the most trifling subjects imaginable.

I have chosen out these few, said Arabella (not observing his

consternation), from a great many others, which compose the most

valuable part of my library; and by that time you have gone through

these, I imagine you will be considerably improved.

Certainly, madam, replied Glanville, turning over the leaves in great

confusion, one may, as you say, be greatly improved; for these books

contain a great deal: and, looking over a page of Cassandra, without

any design, read these words, which were part of Oroondates' soliloquy

when he received a cruel sentence from Statira:--

"Ah cruel! (says this miserable lover) and what have I done to merit

it? Examine the nature of my offence, and you will see I am not so

guilty, but that my death may free me from part of that severity:

shall your hatred last longer than my life? And can you detest a

soul that forsakes its body only to obey you? No, no, you are not so

hard-hearted; that satisfaction will, doubtless, content you: and, when

I shall cease to be, doubtless I shall cease to be odious to you."

Upon my soul, said Glanville, stifling a laugh with great difficulty, I

cannot help blaming the lady this sorrowful lover complains of, for her

great cruelty; for here he gives one reason to suspect, that she will

not even be contented with his dying in obedience to her commands, but

will hate him after death; an impiety quite inexcusable in a Christian!

You condemn this illustrious princess with very little reason,

interrupted Arabella, smiling at his mistake; for, besides that she

was not a Christian, and ignorant of those divine maxims of charity

and forgiveness, which Christians, by their profession, are obliged

to practise, she was very far from desiring the death of Oroondates;

for, if you will take the pains to read the succeeding passages, you

will find that she expresses herself in the most obliging manner in

the world; for when Oroondates tells her he would live, if she would

consent he should, the princess most sweetly replies, "I not only

consent, but also entreat it; and, if I have any power, command it."

However, lest you should fall into the other extreme, and blame this

great princess for her easiness (as you before condemned her for her

cruelty), it is necessary you should know how she was induced to this

favourable behaviour to her lover: therefore pray read the whole

transaction. Stay! here it begins, continued she; turning over a good

many pages, and marking where he should begin to read.

Glanville, having no great stomach to the task, endeavoured to evade

it, by entreating his cousin to relate the passages she desired he

should be acquainted with: but she declining it, he was obliged to

obey, and began to read where she directed him: and, to leave him at

liberty to read with the greater attention, she left him, and went to a

window at another end of the chamber.

Mr. Glanville, who was not willing to displease her, examined the task

she had set him, resolving, if it was not a very hard one, to comply;

but, counting the pages, he was quite terrified at the number, and

could not prevail upon himself to read them: therefore, glancing them

over, he pretended to be deeply engaged in reading, when, in reality,

he was contemplating the surprising effect these books had produced in

the mind of his cousin; who, had she been untainted with the ridiculous

whims they created in her imagination, was, in his opinion, one of the

most accomplished ladies in the world.

When he had sat long enough to make her believe he had read what she

had desired, he rose up, and joining her at the window, began to talk

of the pleasantness of the evening, instead of the rigour of Statira.

Arabella coloured with vexation at his extreme indifference in a

matter which was of such prodigious consequence, in her opinion; but

disdaining to put him in mind of his rudeness, in quitting a subject

they had not thoroughly discussed, and which she had taken so much

pains to make him comprehend, she continued silent; and would not

condescend to afford him an answer to any thing he said.

Glanville, by her silence and frowns, was made sensible of his fault;

and, to repair it, began to talk of the inexorable Statira, though,

indeed, he did not well know what to say.

Arabella, clearing up a little, did not disdain to answer him upon

her favourite topic: I knew, said she, you would be ready to blame

this princess equally for her rigour and her kindness; but it must be

remembered, that what she did in favour of Oroondates was wholly owing

to the generosity of Artaxerxes.

Here she stopped, expecting Glanville to give his opinion; who,

strangely puzzled, replied at random, To be sure, madam, he was a very

generous rival.

Rival! cried Arabella; Artaxerxes the rival of Oroondates! Why

certainly you have lost your wits: he was Statira's brother; and it was

to his mediation that Oroondates, or Orontes, owed his happiness.

Certainly, madam, replied Glanville, it was very generous in

Artaxerxes, as he was brother to Statira, to interpose in behalf of

an unfortunate lover; and both Oroondates and Orontes were extremely

obliged to him.

Orontes, replied Arabella, was more obliged to him than Oroondates:

since the quality of Orontes was infinitely below that of Oroondates.

But, madam, interrupted Glanville (extremely pleased at his having so

well got over the difficulty he had been in), which of these two lovers

did Statira make happy?

This unlucky question immediately informed Arabella, that she had been

all this time the dupe of her cousin; who, if he had read a single

page, would have known that Orontes and Oroondates was the same person;

the name of Orontes being assumed by Oroondates to conceal his real

name and quality.

The shame and rage she conceived at so glaring a proof of his

disrespect, and the ridicule to which she had exposed herself, were

so great, that she could not find words severe enough to express her

resentment; but, protesting that no consideration whatever should

oblige her to converse with him again, she ordered him instantly to

quit her chamber; and assured him, if he ever attempted to approach her

again, she would submit to the most terrible effects of her father's

resentment, rather than be obliged to see a person who had, by his

unworthy behaviour, made himself her scorn and aversion.

Glanville, who saw himself going to be discarded a second time,

attempted, with great submission, to move her to recall her

cruel sentence; but Arabella, bursting into tears, complained so

pathetically of the cruelty of her destiny, in exposing her to the

hated importunities of a man she despised, and whose presence was

so insupportable, that Glanville, thinking it best to let her rage

evaporate a little before he attempted to pacify her, quitted her

chamber; cursing Statira and Orontes a thousand times, and loading the

authors of those books with all the imprecations his rage could suggest.

Chapter XIII.

_The adventure of the books continued._

In this temper he went to the gardens to pass over the chagrin this

unfortunate accident had given him; when, meeting the marquis, who

insisted upon knowing the cause of that ill-humour so visible in his

countenance, Glanville related all that had passed, but, in spite of

his anger, it was impossible for him to repeat the circumstances of

his disgrace without laughing, as well as the marquis; who thought the

story so extremely diverting, that he would needs hear it over again.

However, Charles, said he, though I shall do what I can to gain your

pardon from Bella, yet I shall not scruple to own you acted extremely

wrong, in not reading what she desired you; for, besides losing an

opportunity of obliging her, you drew yourself into a terrible dilemma:

for how was it possible for you to evade a discovery of the cheat you

put upon her, when she began to talk with you upon those passages she

had desired you to read?

I acknowledge my error, my lord, answered Glanville; but if you restore

me to my cousin's favour again, I promise you to repair it by a

different behaviour for the future.

I'll see what I can do for you, said the marquis; leaving him, to go

to Arabella's apartment, who had retired to her closet, extremely

afflicted at this new insult she had received from her cousin: her

grief was the more poignant, as she was beginning to imagine, by the

alteration in his behaviour, that he would prove such a lover as she

wished for. Mr. Glanville's person and qualifications had attracted her

particular notice: and, to speak in the language of romance, she did

not hate him; but, on the contrary, was very much disposed to wish him

well: therefore, it was no wonder she extremely resented the affront

she had received from him.

The marquis not finding her in her chamber, proceeded to her closet,

where her women informed him she was retired; and, knocking gently at

the door, was admitted by Arabella, whom he immediately discerned to

have been weeping very much; for her fine eyes were red and swelled,

and the traces of her tears might still be observed on her fair face;

which, at the sight of the marquis, was overspread with a blush, as if

she was conscious of her weakness in lamenting the crime her cousin had

been guilty of.

The marquis drew a favourable omen for his nephew from her tears and

confusion; but, not willing to increase it by acknowledging he had

observed it, he told her he was come, at Mr. Glanville's request, to

make up the quarrel between them.

Ah! my lord, interrupted Arabella, speak no more to me of that unworthy

man, who has so grossly abused my favour, and the privilege I allowed

him: his baseness and ingratitude are but too manifest; and there is

nothing I so much regret as my weakness in restoring him to part of my

good opinion, after he had once forfeited it, by an insolence not to be

paralleled.

Indeed, Bella, said the marquis, smiling, you resent too deeply these

slight matters: I can't think my nephew so guilty as you would have me

believe he is; and you ought neither to be angry nor surprised, that he

preferred your conversation before reading in a foolish old-fashioned

book that you put in his hands.

If your lordship had ever read these books, replied Arabella, reddening

with vexation, it is probable you would have another opinion of them;

but, however that may be, my cousin is not to be excused for the

contempt he showed to my commands; and for daring, by the cheat he

put on me, to expose me to the shame of seeing myself so ridiculously

imposed upon.

However, you must forgive him, said the marquis; and I insist upon it,

before I quit your apartment, that you receive him into favour.

Pardon me, my lord, replied Arabella; this is what I neither can, nor

ought to do; and I hope you will not wrong me so much as to continue to

desire it.

Nay, Bella, said he, this is carrying things too far, and making

trifling disputes of too great consequence: I am surprised at your

treatment of a man whom, after all, if ever you intend to obey me, you

must consent to marry.

There is no question, my lord, replied she, but it would be my glory

to obey you in whatever is possible; but this you command me now to

do, not being so, I conceive you will rather impute my refusal to

necessity, than choice.

How! returned the marquis, will you endeavour to persuade me, that it

is not possible Mr. Glanville should be your husband?

It is impossible he should be so with my consent, resumed Arabella:

and I cannot give it without wounding my own quiet in a most sensible

manner.

Come, come, Bella, said the marquis (fretting at her extreme

obstinacy), this is too much: I am to blame to indulge your foibles in

this manner: your cousin is worthy of your affection, and you cannot

refuse it to him without incurring my displeasure.

Since my affection is not in my own power to bestow, said Arabella,

weeping, I know not how to remove your displeasure; but, questionless,

I know how to die, to avoid the effects of what would be to me the most

terrible misfortune in the world.

Foolish girl! interrupted the marquis, how strangely do you talk? Are

the thoughts of death become so familiar to you, that you speak of

dying with so little concern?

Since, my lord, resumed she, in an exalted tone, I do not yield, either

in virtue or courage, to many others of my sex, who, when persecuted

like me, have fled to death for relief, I know not why I should be

thought less capable of it than they; and if Artimisa, Candace, and the

beautiful daughter of Cleopatra, could brave the terrors of death for

the sake of the men they loved, there is no question but I also could

imitate their courage, to avoid the man I have so much reason to hate.

The girl is certainly distracted, interrupted the marquis, excessively

enraged at the strange speech she had uttered: these foolish books my

nephew talks of have turned her brain! Where are they? pursued he,

going into her chamber: I'll burn all I can lay my hands upon.

Arabella, trembling for the fate of her books, followed her father into

the room; who seeing the books which had caused this woeful adventure

lying upon the table, he ordered one of her women to carry them into

his apartment, vowing he would commit them all to the flames.

Arabella not daring, in the fury he was in, to interpose, he went out

of the room, leaving her to bewail the fate of so many illustrious

heroes and heroines, who, by an effect of a more cruel tyranny than

any they had ever experienced before, were going to be cast into the

merciless flames; which would, doubtless, pay very little regard to

the divine beauties of the admirable Clelia, or the heroic valour of

the brave Orontes; and the rest of those great princes and princesses,

whose actions Arabella proposed for the model of hers.

Fortune, however, which never wholly forsook these illustrious

personages, rescued them from so unworthy a fate, and brought Mr.

Glanville into the marquis's chamber just as he was giving orders to

have them destroyed.

BOOK II.

Chapter I.

_In which the adventure of the books is happily concluded._

The marquis, as soon as he saw Mr. Glanville, told him he was resolved

to cure Arabella of her whims, by burning the books that had put them

into her head: I have seized upon some of them, pursued he, smiling;

and you may, if you please, wreak your spite upon these authors of your

disgrace, by burning them yourself.

Though I have all the reason in the world to be enraged with that

incendiary Statira, said Glanville laughing, for the mischief she has

done me; yet I cannot consent to put such an affront upon my cousin, as

to burn her favourite books: and now I think of it, my lord, pursued

he, I'll endeavour to make a merit with Lady Bella by saving them;

therefore spare them, at my request, and let me carry them to her. I

shall be quite unhappy till we are friends again.

You may do as you will, said the marquis; but I think it encouraging

her in her follies to give them to her again.

Glanville, without replying, eagerly took up the books, for fear

the marquis should change his mind; and, highly delighted with the

opportunity he had got of making his peace with Lady Bella, ran to her

apartment, loaded with these kind intercessors; and, making his way

by Lucy, who would have opposed him, penetrated even into the closet

of the melancholy fair-one, who was making bitter reflections on the

cruelty of her destiny, and bewailing her loss with a deluge of tears.

As ridiculous as the occasion of these tears was, yet Glanville

could not behold them without being affected: assuming, therefore,

a countenance as sad as he was able, he laid the books before her;

and told her, he hoped she would excuse his coming into her presence

without her permission, since it was only to restore her those books,

whose loss she seemed so greatly to lament; and added, that it was

with much difficulty he prevailed upon the marquis not to burn them

immediately; and his fears, that he might really do as he threatened,

made him snatch them up, and bring them, with so little ceremony, into

her closet.

Arabella, whose countenance brightened into a smile of pleasing

surprise at the sight of her recovered treasure, turned her bright eyes

upon Glanville with a look of complacency that went to his heart.

I well perceive, said she, that in exaggerating the merit of this

little service you have done me, you expect I should suffer it to

cancel your past offences. I am not ungrateful enough to be insensible

of any kindness that is shown me; and, though I might be excused for

suspecting it was rather policy than friendship, that induced you to

seek my satisfaction, by saving these innocent victims of my father's

displeasure, nevertheless I pardon you upon the supposition, that you

will, for the future, avoid all occasion of offending me.

At these words she made a sign to him to be gone, fearing the

extravagance of his joy would make him throw himself at her feet to

thank her for the infinite favour she had conferred upon him: but,

finding he seemed disposed to stay longer, she called one of her women

into the closet; and, by some very significant frowns, gave Glanville

to understand his stay was displeasing; so that he left her, with a

very low bow, highly pleased at her having repealed his banishment; and

assured the marquis that nothing could have happened more fortunate for

him, than his intended disposal of his daughter's books, since it had

proved the means of restoring him to her favour.

Chapter II.

_Which contains a very natural incident._

From this time Mr. Glanville, though he was far from coming up to Lady

Bella's idea of a lover, yet, by the pains he apparently seemed to be

at in obliging her, made every day some progress in her esteem. The

marquis was extremely pleased at the harmony which subsisted between

them; though he could have wished to have seen their marriage advance a

little faster; but Glanville, who was better acquainted with Arabella's

foible than the marquis, assured him, he would ruin all his hopes if he

pressed her to marry; and entreated him to leave it entirely to him, to

dispose her to consent to both their wishes.

The marquis was satisfied with his reasons, and resolving not to

importune his daughter upon that subject any more, they lived for some

months in a perfect tranquillity; to which an illness the marquis was

seized with, and which was from the first thought to be dangerous, gave

a sad interruption.

Arabella's extreme tenderness upon this occasion, her anxious

solicitude, her pious cares, and never-ceasing attendance at the

bed-side of her sick father, were so many new charms that engaged the

affection of Glanville more strongly. As the marquis's indisposition

increased, so did her care and assiduity: she would not allow any one

to give him any thing but herself; bore all the pettish humours of

a sick man with a surprising sweetness and patience; watched whole

nights successively by his bed-side; and when, at his importunity, she

consented to take any rest, it was only on a couch in his chamber, from

whence no entreaties could make her remove. Mr. Glanville partook with

her in these fatigues; and, by his care of her father, and tenderness

for her, confirmed her in the esteem she had entertained of him.

The marquis, who had struggled with the violence of his distemper for

a fortnight, died on the fifteenth day in the arms of Arabella, who

received his last looks; his eyes never removing themselves from her

face, till they were closed by death. Her spirits, which the desire

she had of being useful to him, had alone supported, now failed her at

once; and she fell upon the bed, without sense or motion, as soon as

she saw him expire.

Mr. Glanville, who was kneeling on the other side, and had been

holding one of his uncle's hands, started up in the most terrible

consternation, and, seeing the condition she was in, flew to her

relief: her women, while he supported her, used all the endeavours

they could think of to recover her; but she continued so long in her

swoon, that they apprehended she was dead; and Glanville was resigning

himself up to the most bitter sorrow, when she opened her eyes; but it

was only to close them again. Her faintings continued the whole day;

and the physicians declaring she was in great danger, from her extreme

weakness, she was carried to bed in a condition that seemed to promise

very little hopes of her life.

The care of the marquis's funeral devolving upon Mr. Glanville, he sent

a messenger express for his father, who was appointed guardian to Lady

Bella; the marquis having first asked her if she was willing it should

be so. This gentleman arrived time enough to be witness of that sad

ceremony, which was performed with a magnificence suitable to the birth

and fortune of the marquis.

Lady Bella kept her bed several days, and her life was thought to be in

danger; but her youth, and the strength of her constitution, overcame

her disease; and, when she was so well recovered as to be able to

admit of a visit from her uncle, Mr. Glanville sent for permission to

introduce him. The afflicted Arabella granted his request; but, being

then more indisposed than usual, she entreated they would defer their

visit for an hour or two, which they complied with; and, returning at

the appointed time, were conducted into her dressing-room by Lucy, who

informed them her lady was just fallen into a slumber.

Mr. Glanville, who had not seen her for some days, expected her waking

with great impatience; and pleased himself with describing her, with

a lover's fondness, to his father, when the sound of her voice in the

next room interrupted him.

Chapter III.

_Which treats of a consolatory visit, and other grave matters._

Arabella, being then awaked from her slumber, was indulging her grief

by complaints, which her women were so used to hear, that they never

offered to disturb her. Merciless fate! said she, in the most moving

tone imaginable; cruel destiny! that, not contented with having

deprived my infancy of the soft cares and tender indulgences of a

mother's fondness, has robbed me of the only parent I had left, and

exposed me, at these early years, to the grief of losing him who was

not only my father, but my friend, and protector of my youth!

Then, pausing a moment, she renewed her complaints with a deep sigh:

Dear relics of the best of fathers! pursued she, why was it not

permitted me to bathe you with my tears? Why were those sacred remains

of him, from whom I drew my life, snatched from my eyes, ere they had

poured their tribute of sorrow over them? Ah! pitiless women! said she

to her attendants, you prevented me from performing the last pious

rites to my dear father! You, by your cruel care, hindered me from

easing my sad heart, by paying him the last duties he could receive

from me! Pardon, O dear and sacred shade of my loved father! pardon

this unwilling neglect of thy afflicted child, who, to the last moment

of her wretched life, will bewail thy loss!

Here she ceased speaking; and Mr. Glanville, whom this soliloquy had

much less confounded than his father, was preparing to go in, and

comfort her; when the old gentleman stopping him with a look of great

concern: My niece is certainly much worse than we apprehend, said he.

She is in a delirium: our presence may, perhaps, discompose her too

much.

No, Sir, replied Glanville, extremely confused at this suspicion; my

cousin is not so bad as you suppose: it is common enough for people in

any great affliction to ease themselves by complaints.

But these, replied the knight, are the strangest complaints I ever

heard, and savour so much of frenzy, that I am persuaded her head is

not quite right.

Glanville was going to reply, when Lucy, entering, told them her

lady had ordered their admission: upon which they followed her into

Arabella's chamber, who was lying negligently upon her bed.

Her deep mourning, and the black gauze, which covered part of her

fair face, was so advantageous to her shape and complexion, that Sir

Charles, who had not seen her since she grew up, was struck with an

extreme surprise at her beauty, while his son was gazing on her so

passionately, that he never thought of introducing his father to her,

who contemplated her with as much admiration as his son, though with

less passion.

Arabella, rising from her bed, saluted her uncle with a grace that

wholly charmed him; and turning to receive Mr. Glanville, she burst

into tears at the remembrance of his having assisted her in her last

attendance upon her father. Alas! sir, said she, when we saw each

other last, we were both engaged in a very melancholy office: had it

pleased Heaven to have spared my father, he would, doubtless, have

been extremely sensible of your generous cares; nor shall you have any

reason to accuse me of ingratitude, since I shall always acknowledge

your kindness as I ought.

If you think you owe me any obligation, returned Glanville, pay me,

dearest cousin, by moderating your sorrow: indeed you suffer yourself

to sink too much under an affliction which is impossible to be remedied.

Alas! answered Arabella, my grief is very slight, compared to that of

many others upon the death of their relations. The great Sysigambis,

who, questionless, wanted neither fortitude nor courage, upon the news

of her grand-daughter's death, wrapped herself up in her veil; and,

resolving never more to behold the light, waited for death in that

posture.

Menecrates, upon the loss of his wife, built a magnificent tomb

for her; and, shutting himself up in it, resolved to pass away the

remainder of his life with her ashes. These, indeed, were glorious

effects of piety and affection, and unfeigned signs of an excessive

sorrow: what are the few tears I shed to such illustrious instances of

grief and affection, as these?

Glanville, finding his cousin upon this strain, blushed extremely, and

would have changed the subject; but the old gentleman, who had never

heard of these two persons she mentioned, who expressed their sorrow

for their losses in so strange a manner, was surprised at it; and was

resolved to know more about them.

Pray, niece, said he, were you acquainted with these people, who could

not submit to the dispensation of Providence, but, as one may say, flew

in the face of Heaven by their impatience?

I am very well acquainted with their history, resumed Arabella; and I

can assure you, they were both very admirable persons.

Oh! Oh! their history! interrupted the knight. What, I warrant you,

they are to be found in the Fairy Tales, and those sort of books! Well,

I never could like such romances, not I; for they only spoil youth, and

put strange notions into their heads.

I am sorry, resumed Arabella, blushing with anger, that we are like to

differ in opinion upon so important a point.

Truly, niece, said Sir Charles, if we never differ in any thing else,

I shall be very easy about this slight matter; though I think a young

lady of your fine sense (for my son praises you to the skies for your

_wit_) should not be so fond of such ridiculous nonsense as these

story-books are filled with.

Upon my word, sir, resumed Arabella, all the respect I owe you cannot

hinder me from telling you that I take it extremely ill you should,

in my presence, rail at the finest productions in the world. I think

we are infinitely obliged to these authors, who have, in so sublime a

style, delivered down to posterity the heroic actions of the bravest

men, and most virtuous of women. But for the inimitable pen of the

famous Scudery, we had been ignorant of the lives of many great and

illustrious persons: the warlike actions of Oroondates, Aronces, Juba,

and the renowned Artaban, had, haply, never been talked of in our age;

and those fair and chaste ladies, who were the objects of their pure

and constant passions, had still been buried in obscurity; and neither

their divine beauties, or singular virtue, been the subject of our

admiration and praise. But for the famous Scudery, we had not known the

true cause of that action of Clelia's, for which the senate decreed her

a statue; namely, her casting herself, with an unparalleled courage,

into the Tyber, a deep and rapid river, as you must certainly know,

and swimming to the other side. It was not, as the Roman historians

falsely report, a stratagem to recover herself, and the other hostages,

from the power of Porsena; it was to preserve her honour from violation

by the impious Sextus, who was in the camp. But for Scudery, we had

still thought the inimitable poetess Sappho to be a loose wanton,

whose verses breathed nothing but unchaste and irregular fires: on

the contrary, she was so remarkably chaste, that she would never even

consent to marry; but, loving Phaon, only with a Platonic passion,

obliged him to restrain his desires within the compass of a brother's

affection. Numberless are the mistakes he has cleared up of this kind;

and I question, if any other historian but himself knew that Cleopatra

was really married to Julius Cæsar; or that Cæsario, her son by this

marriage, was not murdered, as was supposed, by the order of Augustus,

but married the fair queen of Ethiopia, in whose dominions he took

refuge. The prodigious acts of valour, which he has recounted of those

accomplished princes, have never been equalled by the heroes of either

the Greek or Roman historians. How poor and insignificant are the

actions of their warriors to Scudery's, where one of those admirable

heroes would put whole armies into terror, and with his single arm

oppose a legion!

Indeed, niece, said Sir Charles, no longer able to forbear interrupting

her, these are all very improbable tales. I remember, when I was a boy,

I was very fond of reading the history of Jack the Giant Killer, and

Tom Thumb; and these stories so filled my head, that I really thought

one of those little heroes killed men an hundred feet high; and that

the other, after a great many surprising exploits, was swallowed up by

a cow.

You was very young, sir, you say, interrupted Arabella tartly, when

those stories gained your belief: however, your judgment was certainly

younger, if you ever believed them at all; for as credulous as you are

pleased to think me, I should never, at any age, have been persuaded

such things could have happened.

My father, madam, said Glanville, who was strangely confused all this

time, bore arms in his youth; and soldiers, you know, never trouble

themselves much with reading.

Has my uncle been a soldier, said Arabella, and does he hold in

contempt the actions of the bravest soldiers in the world?

The soldiers you speak of, niece, said Sir Charles, were indeed the

bravest soldiers in the world; for I don't believe they ever had their

equals.

And yet, sir, said Arabella, there are a great number of such soldiers

to be found in Scudery.

Indeed, my dear niece, interrupted Sir Charles, they are to be found

nowhere else, except in your imagination, which, I am sorry to see, is

filled with such _whimsies_.

If you mean this to affront me, sir, resumed Arabella, hardly able to

forbear tears, I know how far, as my uncle, I ought to bear with you:

but methinks it is highly unkind to aggravate my sorrows by such cruel

jests; and, since I am not in an humour to suffer them, don't take it

ill, if I entreat you to leave me to myself.

Mr. Glanville, who knew nothing pleased his cousin so much as paying

an exact obedience to her commands, rose up immediately; and, bowing

respectfully to her, asked his father if he should attend him into the

gardens.

The baronet, who thought Arabella's behaviour bordered a good deal

upon rudeness, took his leave with some signs of displeasure upon his

countenance; and, notwithstanding all his son could say in excuse for

her, he was extremely offended.

What! said he, to Mr. Glanville, does she so little understand the

respect that is due to me as her uncle, that she so peremptorily

desired me to leave her room? My brother was to blame to take so little

care of her education; she is quite a rustic!

Ah! don't wrong your judgment so much, sir, said Glanville; my cousin

has as little of the rustic as if she had passed all her life in

court: her fine sense, and the native elegance of her manners give

an inimitable grace to her behaviour; and as much exceed the studied

politeness of other ladies I have conversed with, as the beauties of

her person do all I have ever seen.

She is very handsome, I confess, returned Sir Charles; but I cannot

think so well of her _wit_ as you do; for methinks she talks very

oddly, and has the strangest conceits! Who, but herself, would think it

probable that one man could put a whole army to flight; or commend a

foolish fellow for living in a tomb, because his wife was buried in it?

Fie, fie! these are silly and extravagant notions, and will make her

appear very ridiculous.

Mr. Glanville was so sensible of the justness of this remark, that

he could not help sighing; which his father observing, told him,

that since she was to be his wife, it was his business to produce a

reformation in her; for, added he, notwithstanding the immense fortune

she will bring you, I should be sorry to have a daughter-in-law for

whom I should blush as often as she opens her mouth.

I assure you, sir, said Mr. Glanville, I have but very little hopes

that I shall be so happy as to have my cousin for a wife; for though it

was my uncle's command I should make my addresses to her, she received

me so ill, as a lover, that I have never dared to talk to her upon that

subject since.

And pray, resumed Sir Charles, upon what terms are you at present?

While I seem to pretend nothing to her as a lover, replied Mr.

Glanville, she is very obliging, and we live in great harmony together;

but I am persuaded, if I exceed the bounds of friendship in my

professions, she will treat me extremely ill.

But, interrupted Sir Charles, when she shall know that her father has

bequeathed you one third of his estate, provided she don't marry you,

it is probable her mind may change; and you may depend upon it, since

your heart is so much set upon her, that, as I am her guardian, I shall

press her to perform the marquis's will.

Ah! sir, resumed Mr. Glanville, never attempt to lay any constraint

upon my cousin in an affair of this nature: permit me to tell you, it

would be an abuse of the marquis's generous confidence, and what I

would never submit to.

Nay, nay, said the old gentleman, you have no reason to fear any

compulsion from me: though her father has left me her guardian, till

she is of age, yet it is with such restriction, that my niece is quite

her own mistress in that respect; for though she is directed to consult

me in her choice of an husband, yet my consent is not absolutely

necessary. The marquis has certainly had a great opinion of his

daughter's prudence; and I hope she will prove herself worthy of it by

her conduct.

Mr. Glanville was so taken up with his reflections upon the state of

his affairs, that he made but little reply; and, as soon as he had

disengaged himself, retired to his chamber, to be at more liberty to

indulge his meditations. As he could not flatter himself with having

made any impression upon the heart of Arabella, he foresaw a thousand

inconveniences from the death of the marquis; for, besides that he lost

a powerful mediator with his cousin, he feared that, when she appeared

in the world, her beauty and fortune would attract a crowd of admirers,

among whom, it was probable, she would find some one more agreeable to

her taste than himself. As he loved her with great tenderness, this

thought made him extremely uneasy; and he would sometimes wish the

marquis had laid a stronger injunction upon her in his will to marry

him; and regretted the little power his father had over her: but he was

too generous to dwell long upon these thoughts, and contented himself

with resolving to do all that was honourable to obtain her, without

seeking for any assistance from unjustifiable methods.

Chapter IV.

_Which contains some common occurrences, but placed in a new light._

Arabella, in a few days, leaving her chamber, had so many opportunities

of charming her uncle by her conversation, which, when it did not

turn upon any incident in her romances, was perfectly fine, easy, and

entertaining, that he declared he should quit the castle with great

regret; and endeavoured to persuade her to accompany him to town: but

Arabella, who was determined to pass the year of her mourning in the

retirement she had always lived in, absolutely refused, strong as her

curiosity was, to see London.

Mr. Glanville secretly rejoiced at this resolution, though he seemed

desirous of making her change it; but she was unalterable; and,

therefore, the baronet did not think proper to press her any more.

Her father's will being read to her, she seemed extremely pleased with

the article in favour of Mr. Glanville, wishing him joy of the estate

that was bequeathed to him, with a most enchanting sweetness.

Mr. Glanville sighed, and cast his eyes on the ground, as he returned

her compliment, with a very low bow; and Sir Charles, observing his

confusion, told Arabella, that he thought it was a very bad omen for

his son, to wish him joy of an estate which he could not come to the

possession of but by a very great misfortune.

Arabella, understanding his meaning, blushed; and, willing to change

the discourse, proceeded to consult her uncle upon the regulation

of her house. Besides the legacies her father had bequeathed to

his servants, those who were more immediately about his person she

desired might have their salaries continued to them: she made no other

alteration, than discharging these attendants, retaining all the

others; and submitting to her uncle the management of her estates,

receiving the allowance he thought proper to assign her, till she was

of age, of which she wanted three years.

Every thing being settled, Sir Charles prepared to return to town. Mr.

Glanville, who desired nothing so much as to stay some time longer with

his cousin in her solitude, got his father to entreat that favour for

him of Arabella: but she represented to her uncle the impropriety of a

young gentleman's staying with her, in her house, now her father was

dead, in a manner so genteel and convincing, that Sir Charles could

press it no further; and all that Mr. Glanville could obtain, was a

permission to visit her some time after, provided he could prevail upon

his sister, Miss Charlotte Glanville, to accompany him.

The day of their departure being come, Sir Charles took his leave of

his charming niece, with many expressions of esteem and affection;

and Mr. Glanville appeared so concerned, that Arabella could not help

observing it; and bade him adieu with great sweetness.

When they were gone, she found her time hung heavy upon her hands;

her father was continually in her thoughts, and made her extremely

melancholy: she recollected the many agreeable conversations she had

had with Glanville; and wished it had been consistent with decency to

have detained him. Her books being the only amusement she had left,

she applied herself to reading with more eagerness than ever; but,

notwithstanding the delight she took in this employment, she had so

many hours of solitude and melancholy to indulge the remembrance of her

father in, that she was very far from being happy.

As she wished for nothing more passionately than an agreeable companion

of her own sex and rank, an accident threw a person in her way, who,

for some days, afforded her a little amusement. Stepping one day out of

her coach, to go into church, she saw a young lady enter, accompanied

by a middle-aged woman, who seemed to be an attendant. As Arabella had

never seen any one, above the rank of a gentleman farmer's daughter, in

this church, her attention was immediately engaged by the appearance of

this stranger, who was very magnificently dressed. Though she did not

seem to be more than eighteen years of age, her stature was above the

ordinary size of women; and, being rather too plump to be delicate, her

mien was so majestic, and such an air of grandeur was diffused over her

whole person, joined to the charms of a very lovely face, that Arabella

could hardly help thinking she saw the beautiful Candace before her,

who, by Scudery's description, very much resembled this fair-one.

Arabella, having heedfully observed her looks, thought she saw a great

appearance of melancholy in her eyes, which filled her with a generous

concern for the misfortunes of so admirable a person; but, the service

beginning, she was not at liberty to indulge her reflections upon this

occasion, as she never suffered any thoughts, but those of religion, to

intrude upon her mind during these pious rites.

As she was going out of church she observed the young lady, attended

only with the woman who came with her, preparing to walk home, and

therefore stepped forward, and, saluting her with a grace peculiar

to herself, entreated her to come into her coach, and give her the

pleasure of setting her down at her own house. So obliging an offer

from a person of Arabella's rank could not fail of being received with

great respect by the young lady, who was not ignorant of all the forms

of good breeding; and, accepting her invitation, she stepped into the

coach; Arabella obliging her woman to come in also, for whom, as she

had that day only Lucy along with her, there was room enough.

As they were going home, Arabella, who longed to be better acquainted,

entreated the fair stranger, as she called her, to go to the castle,

and spend the day with her; and she consenting, they passed by the

house where she lodged, and alighted at the castle, where Arabella

welcomed her with the most obliging expressions of civility and

respect. The young lady, though perfectly versed in the modes of

town-breeding, and _nothing-meaning_ ceremony, was at a loss how

to make proper returns to the civilities of Arabella. The native

elegance and simplicity of her manners were accompanied with so much

real benevolence of heart, such insinuating tenderness, and graces

so irresistible, that she was quite oppressed with them; and, having

spent most of her time between her toilet and quadrille, was so little

qualified for partaking a conversation so refined as Arabella's, that

her discourse appeared quite tedious to her, since it was neither upon

fashions, assemblies, cards, or scandal.

Her silence, and that absence of mind which she betrayed, made Arabella

conclude she was under some very great affliction; and, to amuse her

after dinner, led her into the gardens, supposing a person whose

uneasiness, as she did not doubt, proceeded from love, would be pleased

with the sight of groves and streams, and be tempted to disclose her

misfortunes while they wandered in that agreeable privacy. In this,

however, she was deceived; for though the young lady sighed several

times, yet, when she did speak, it was only of indifferent things, and

not at all in the manner of an afflicted heroine.

After observing upon a thousand trifles, she told Arabella, at last,

to whom she was desirous of making known her alliance to quality, that

these gardens were extremely like those of her father's-in-law, the

Duke of ----, at ----.

At this intimation, she expected Arabella would be extremely surprised;

but that lady, whose thoughts were always familiarised to objects of

grandeur, and would not have been astonished if she had understood her

guest was the daughter of a king, appeared so little moved, that the

lady was piqued by her indifference; and, after a few moments' silence,

began to mention going away.

Arabella, who was desirous of retaining her a few days, entreated her

so obligingly to favour her with her company for some time in her

solitude, that the other could not refuse: and dispatching her woman to

the house where she lodged, to inform them of her stay at the castle,

would have dispensed with her coming again to attend her, had not

Arabella insisted upon the contrary.

The reserve which the daughter-in-law of the Duke of ---- still

continued to maintain, notwithstanding the repeated expressions of

friendship Arabella used to her, increased her curiosity to know her

adventures, which she was extremely surprised she had never offered to

relate; but attributing her silence upon this head to her modesty, she

was resolved, as was the custom in those cases, to oblige her woman,

who, she presumed, was her confidante, to relate her lady's history to

her; and sending for this person one day, when she was alone, to attend

her in her closet, she gave orders to her women, if the fair stranger

came to enquire for her, to say she was then busy, but would wait on

her as soon as possible.

After this caution, she ordered Mrs. Morris to be admitted; and,

obliging her to sit down, told her she sent for her in order to hear

from her the history of her lady's life, which she was extremely

desirous of knowing.

Mrs. Morris, who was a person of sense, and had seen the world, was

extremely surprised at this request of Arabella, which was quite

contrary to the laws of good-breeding; and, as she thought, betrayed a

great deal of impertinent curiosity: she could not tell how to account

for the free manner in which she desired her to give up her lady's

secrets, which, indeed, were not of a nature to be told; and appeared

so much confused, that Arabella took notice of it; and supposing it

was her bashfulness which caused her embarrassment, she endeavoured to

reassure her by the most affable behaviour imaginable.

Mrs. Morris, who was not capable of much fidelity for her lady, being

but lately taken into her service, and not extremely fond of her,

thought she had now a fine opportunity of recommending herself to

Arabella, by telling her all she knew of Miss Groves, for that was her

name; and therefore told her, since she was pleased to command it, she

would give her what account she was able of her lady; but entreated

her to be secret, because it was of great consequence to her, that her

affairs should not be known.

I always imagined, said Arabella, that your beautiful mistress had some

particular reason for not making herself known, and for coming in this

private manner into this part of the country: you may assure yourself

therefore, that I will protect her as far as I am able, and offer her

all the assistance in my power to give her: therefore you may acquaint

me with her adventures, without being apprehensive of a discovery that

would be prejudicial to her.

Mrs. Morris, who had been much better pleased with the assurances of

a reward for the intelligence she was going to give her, looked a

little foolish at these fine promises, in which she had no share; and

Arabella, supposing she was endeavouring to recollect all the passages

of her lady's life, told her she need not give herself the trouble

to acquaint her with any thing that passed during the infancy of her

lady, but proceed to acquaint her with matters of greater importance:

And since, said she, you have, no doubt, been most favoured with her

confidence, you will do me a pleasure to describe to me, exactly, all

the thoughts of her soul, as she has communicated them to you, that I

may the better comprehend her history.

Chapter V.

_The history of Miss Groves, interspersed with some very curious

observations._

Though, madam, said Mrs. Morris, I have not been long in Miss Groves's

service, yet I know a great many things by means of her former woman,

who told them to me, though my lady thinks I am ignorant of them; and I

know that this is her second trip into the country.

Pray, interrupted Arabella, do me the favour to relate things

methodically: of what use is it to me to know that this is your lady's

second trip, as you call it, into the country, if I know not the

occasion of it? Therefore begin with informing me, who were the parents

of this admirable young person.

Her father, madam, said Mrs. Morris, was a merchant; and, at his death,

left her a large fortune, and so considerable a jointure to his wife,

that the Duke of ----, being then a widower, was tempted to make his

addresses to her. Mrs. Groves was one of the proudest women in the

world; and, this offer flattering her ambition more than ever she had

reason to expect, she married the duke after a very short courtship;

and carried Miss Groves down with her to ----, where the Duke had a

fine seat, and where she was received by his grace's daughters, who

were much about her own age, with great civility. Miss Groves, madam,

was then about twelve years old, and was educated with the duke's

daughters, who in a little time became quite disgusted with their new

sister; for Miss Groves, who inherited her mother's pride, though not

her understanding, in all things affected an equality with those young

ladies, who, conscious of the superiority of their birth, could but ill

bear with her insolence and presumption. As they grew older, difference

of their inclinations caused perpetual quarrels amongst them; for

his grace's daughters were serious, reserved, and pious. Miss Groves

affected noisy mirth, was a great romp, and delighted in masculine

exercises.

The duchess was often reflected on for suffering her daughter, without

any other company than two or three servants, to spend great part of

the day in riding about the country, leaping over hedges and ditches,

exposing her fair face to the injuries of the sun and wind; and, by

those coarse exercises, contracting a masculine and robust air not

becoming her sex and tender years: yet she could not be prevailed

upon to restrain her from this diversion, till it was reported, she

had listened to the addresses of a young sportsman, who used to mix

in her train when she went upon those rambles, and procured frequent

opportunities of conversing with her.

There is a great difference, interrupted Arabella, in suffering

addresses, and being betrayed into an involuntary hearing of them, and

this last, I conceive to have been the case of your lady; for it is not

very probable she would so far forget what she owed to her own glory,

as to be induced to listen quietly to discourses like those you mention.

However, madam, resumed Mrs. Morris, the duchess thought it necessary

to keep her more at home; but even here she was not without meeting

adventures, and found a lover in the person who taught her to write.

That, indeed, was a very notable adventure, said Arabella; but it is

not strange that love should produce such metamorphoses: it is not very

long ago that I heard of a man of quality who disguised himself in a

poor habit, and worked in the gardens of a certain nobleman, whose

daughter he was enamoured with: these things happen every day.

The person I speak of, madam, said Mrs. Morris, was never discovered to

be any thing better than a writing-master; and yet, for all that, Miss

was _smitten_ with his fine person, and was taking measures to run away

with him, when the intrigue was discovered, the lover dismissed, and

the young lady, whose faulty conduct had drawn upon her her mother's

dislike, was sent up to London, and allowed to be her own mistress

at sixteen; to which unpardonable neglect of her mother she owes the

misfortunes that have since befallen her.

Whatever may be the common opinion of this matter, interrupted Arabella

again, I am persuaded the writing-master, as you call him, was some

person of quality, who made use of that device to get access to his

beautiful mistress. Love is ingenious in artifices: who would have

thought, that, under the name of Alcippus, a simple attendant of the

fair Artemisa, princess of Armenia, the gallant Alexander, son of the

great and unfortunate Antony, by Queen Cleopatra, was concealed, who

took upon himself that mean condition for the sake of seeing his adored

princess? Yet the contrivance of Orontes, prince of the Massagetes,

was far more ingenious, and even dangerous; for this valiant and young

prince happening to see the picture of the beautiful Thalestris,

daughter of the queen of the Amazons, he fell passionately in love

with her; and, knowing that the entrance into that country was forbid

to men, he dressed himself in women's apparel; and, finding means

to be introduced to the queen and her fair daughter, whose amity he

gained by some very singular services in the wars, he lived several

years undiscovered in their court. I see, therefore, no reason to

the contrary, but that this writing-master might have been some

illustrious person, whom love had disguised; and I am persuaded, added

she, smiling, that I shall hear more of him anon, in a very different

character.

Indeed, madam, said Mrs. Morris, whom this speech of Arabella had

extremely surprised, I never heard any thing more about him than what

I have related; and, for what I know, he continues still to teach

writing; for I don't suppose the duchess's displeasure could affect him.

How is it possible, said Arabella, that you can suppose such an offence

to probability? In my opinion, it is much more likely that this

unfortunate lover is dead through despair; or, perhaps, wandering over

the world in search of that fair-one who was snatched from his hopes.

If it was his design to seek for her, madam, resumed Mrs. Morris, he

need not have gone far, since she was only sent to London, whither he

might easily have followed her.

There is no accounting for these things, said Arabella: perhaps he

has been imposed upon, and made to believe, that it was she herself

that banished him from her presence: it is probable too, that he was

jealous, and thought she preferred some one of his rivals to him.

Jealousy is inseparable from true love; and the slightest matters

imaginable will occasion it: and what is still more wonderful, this

passion creates the greatest disorders in the most sensible and

delicate hearts. Never was there a more refined and faithful passion

than that of the renowned Artamenes for Mandana; and yet this prince

was driven almost to distraction by a smile, which he fancied he saw

in the face of his divine mistress, at a time when she had some reason

to believe he was dead; and he was so transported with grief and rage,

that though he was a prisoner in his enemy's camp, where the knowledge

of his quality would have procured him certain death, yet he determined

to hazard all things for the sake of presenting himself before Mandana,

and upbraiding her with her infidelity; when, in reality, nothing was

farther from the thoughts of that fair and virtuous princess, than the

lightness he accused her of: so that, as I said before, it is not at

all to be wondered at, if this disguised lover of your lady was driven

to despair by suspicions as groundless, perhaps, as those of Artamenes,

yet not the less cruel and tormenting.

Mrs. Morris, finding Arabella held her peace at these words, went on

with her history in this manner:--Miss Groves, madam, being directed by

her woman in all things, took up her lodgings in her father's house,

who was a broken tradesman, and obliged to keep himself concealed for

fear of his creditors: here she formed her equipage, which consisted

of a chair, one footman, a cook, and her woman. As she was indulged

with the command of what money she pleased, her extravagance was

boundless: she lavished away large sums at gaming, which was her

favourite diversion; kept such a number of different animals for

favourites, that their maintenance amounted to a considerable sum every

year. Her woman's whole family were supported at her expense; and, as

she frequented all public places, and surpassed ladies of the first

quality in finery, her dress alone consumed great part of her income.

I need not tell you, madam, that my lady was a celebrated beauty: you

have yourself been pleased to say, that she is very handsome. When

she first appeared at court, her beauty, and the uncommon dignity

of her person, at such early years, made her the object of general

admiration. The king was particularly struck with her; and declared to

those about him, that Miss Groves was the finest woman at court. The

ladies, however, found means to explain away all that was flattering

in this distinction: they said, Miss Groves was clumsy; and it was

her resemblance to the _unwieldy_ German ladies that made her so much

admired by his majesty. Her pride, and the quality-airs she affected,

were the subject of great ridicule to those that envied her charms:

some censures were maliciously cast on her birth; for, as she was

always styled the Duchess of ----'s daughter, a custom she introduced

herself, she seemed to disclaim all title to a legal father. Miss

Groves, as universally admired as she was, yet made but very few

particular conquests. Her fortune was known to be very considerable,

and her mother's jointure was to descend to her after her death: yet

there was no gentleman who would venture upon a wife of Miss Groves's

taste for expense, as very few estates, _to which she could pretend_,

would support her extravagance. The Honourable Mr. L----, brother to

the Earl of ----, was the only one amidst a crowd of admirers, who made

any particular address to her. This gentleman was tolerably handsome,

and had the art of making himself agreeable to the ladies, by a certain

air of softness and tenderness, which never failed to make some

impression upon those he desired to deceive.

Miss Groves was ravished with her conquest, and boasted of it so

openly, that people who were acquainted with this gentleman's

character, foreseeing her fate, could not help pitying her.

A very few months' courtship completed the ruin of poor Miss Groves:

she fell a sacrifice to oaths which had been often prostituted for

the same inhuman purposes; and became so fond of her betrayer, that

it was with great difficulty he could persuade her not to give him,

even in public, the most ridiculous proofs of her _tenderness_. Her

woman pretends that she was ignorant of this intrigue, till Miss Groves

growing big with child, it could no longer be concealed; it was at

length agreed she should lie-in at her own lodgings, to prevent any

suspicions from her retreating into the country; but that scheme was

over-ruled by her woman's mother, who advised her to conceal herself in

some village, not far from town, till the affair was over.

Miss Groves approved of this second proposal, but took advantage of

her shape, which, being far from delicate, would not easily discover

any growing bigness, to stay in town as long as she possibly could.

When her removal was necessary, she went to the lodgings provided for

her, a few miles distant from London: and, notwithstanding the excuses

which were framed for this sudden absence, the true cause was more than

suspected by some busy people, who industriously enquired into her

affairs.

Mr. L---- saw her but seldom during her illness: the fear of being

discovered was his pretence: but her friends easily saw through this

disguise, and were persuaded Miss Groves was waning in his affections.

As she had a very strong constitution, she returned to town at the end

of three weeks: the child was dead, and she looked handsomer than ever.

Mr. L---- continued his visits; and the town to make remarks of them.

All this time the duchess never troubled herself about the conduct of

this unfortunate young creature; and the people she was with had not

the goodness to give her any hint of her misconduct, and the waste of

her fortune: on the contrary, they almost turned her head with their

flatteries, preyed upon her fortune, and winked at her irregularities.

She was now a second time with child: her character was pretty severely

handled by her enemies: Mr. L---- began openly to slight her: and she

was several thousand pounds in debt. The mother and sisters of her

woman, in whose house she still was, were base enough to whisper the

fault she had been guilty of to all their acquaintances. Her story

became generally known: she was shunned and neglected by every body;

and even Mr. L----, who had been the cause of her ruin, entirely

abandoned her, and boasted openly of the favours he had received from

her.

Miss Groves protested to her friends, that he had promised her

marriage; but Mr. L---- constantly denied it; and never scrupled to

say, when he was questioned about it, that he found Miss Groves too

easy a conquest to make any perjury necessary. Her tenderness, however,

for this base man was so great, that she never could bear to hear him

railed at in her presence; but would quarrel with the only friends

she had left, if they said any thing to his disadvantage. As she

was now pretty far advanced with child, she would have retired into

the country; but the bad condition of her affairs made her removal

impossible: in this extremity she had recourse to her uncle, a rich

merchant in the city, who, having taken all the necessary precautions

for his own security, paid Miss Groves's debts, carrying on, in her

name, a law-suit with the duchess, for some lands which were to be put

into her hands when she was of age, and which that great lady detained.

Miss Groves, being reduced to live upon something less than an hundred

a year, quitted London, and came into this part of the country, where

she was received by Mrs. Barnet, one of her woman's sisters, who is

married to a country gentleman of some fortune. In her house she lay-in

of a girl, which Mr. L---- sent to demand, and will not be persuaded to

inform her how, or in what manner, he has disposed of the child.

Her former woman leaving her, I was received in her place, from

whom I learnt all these particulars: and Miss Groves having gained

the affections of Mr. Barnet's brother, her beauty, and the large

fortune which she has in reversion, has induced him, notwithstanding

the knowledge of her past unhappy conduct, to marry her. But their

marriage is yet a secret, Miss Groves being apprehensive of her uncle's

displeasure for not consulting him in her choice.

Her husband is gone to London, with an intention to acquaint him with

it; and, when he returns, their marriage will be publicly owned.

Chapter VI.

_Containing what a judicious reader will hardly approve._

Mrs. Morris ending her narration, Arabella, who had not been able to

restrain her tears at some parts of it, thanked her for the trouble she

had been at; and assured her of her secrecy. Your lady's case, said

she, is much to be lamented; and greatly resembles the unfortunate

Cleopatra's, whom Julius Cæsar privately marrying, with a promise to

own her for his wife, when he should be peaceable master of the Roman

Empire, left that great queen big with child: and, never intending to

perform his promise, suffered her to be exposed to the censures the

world has so freely cast upon her; and which she so little deserved.

Mrs. Morris, seeing the favourable light in which Arabella viewed

the actions of her _lady_, did not think proper to say any thing to

undeceive her; but went out of the closet, not a little mortified at

her disappointment: for she saw she was likely to receive nothing for

betraying her lady's secrets, from Arabella: who seemed so little

sensible of the pleasure of scandal, as to be wholly ignorant of its

nature; and not to know it when it was told her.

Miss Groves, who was just come to Lady Bella's chamber-door, to enquire

for her, was surprised to see her woman come out of it; and who, upon

meeting her, expressed great confusion. As she was going to ask her

some questions concerning her business there, Arabella came out of her

closet; and, seeing Miss Groves in her chamber, asked her pardon for

staying so long from her.

I have been listening to your history, said she, with great frankness,

which your woman has been relating: and I assure you I am extremely

sensible of your misfortunes.

Miss Groves, at these words, blushed with extreme confusion; and Mrs.

Morris turned pale with astonishment and fear. Arabella, not sensible

that she had been guilty of any indiscretion, proceeded to make

reflections upon some part of her story; which, though they were not

at all disadvantageous to that young lady, she received as so many

insults: and asked Lady Bella, if she was not ashamed to tamper with a

servant to betray the secrets of her mistress?

Arabella, a little surprised at so rude a question, answered, however,

with great sweetness; and protested to her, that she would make no ill

use of what she had learned of her affairs: For, in fine, madam, said

she, do you think I am less fit to be trusted with your secrets, than

the princess of the Leontines was with those of Clelia; between whom

there was no greater amity and acquaintance than with us? And you must

certainly know, that the secrets which that admirable person entrusted

with Lysimena, were of a nature to be more dangerous, if revealed,

than yours. The happiness of Clelia depended upon Lysimena's fidelity:

and the liberty, nay, haply, the life, of Aronces, would have been in

danger, if she had betrayed them. Though I do not intend to arrogate

to myself the possession of those admirable qualities which adorned

the princess of the Leontines, yet I will not yield to her, or any one

else, in generosity and fidelity: and if you will be pleased to repose

as much confidence in me, as those illustrious lovers did in her, you

shall be convinced I will labour as earnestly for your interest, as

that fair princess did for those of Aronces and Clelia.

Miss Groves was so busied in reflecting upon the baseness of her woman

in exposing her, that she heard not a word of this fine harangue (at

which Mrs. Morris, notwithstanding the cause she had for uneasiness,

could hardly help laughing); but, assuming some of that haughtiness in

her looks, for which she used to be remarkable, she told Lady Bella,

that she imputed her impertinent curiosity to her country ignorance,

and ill-breeding; and she did not doubt but she would be served in her

own _kind_, and meet with as bad fortune as she had done; and, perhaps,

deserve it _worse_ than she did; for there are more false men in the

world besides Mr. L----; and she was no handsomer than other people.

Saying this, she flung out of the room, her woman following, leaving

Arabella in such confusion at a behaviour of which she had never before

had an idea, that for some moments she remained immoveable.

Recollecting herself, at last, and conceiving that civility required

she should endeavour to appease this incensed lady, she went down

stairs after her; and, stopping her just as she was going out of the

house, entreated her to be calm, and suffer her to vindicate herself

from the imputation of being impertinently curious to know her affairs.

Miss Groves, quite transported with shame and anger, refused absolutely

to stay.

At least, madam, said Arabella, stay till my coach can be got ready;

and don't think of walking home, so slightly attended.

This offer was as sullenly answered as the other: and Arabella, finding

she was determined to venture home, with no other guard than her woman,

who silently followed her, ordered two of her footmen to attend her at

a small distance; and to defend her, if there should be occasion.

For who knows, said she to Lucy, what accident may happen? Some one or

other of her insolent lovers may take this opportunity to carry her

away; and I should never forgive myself for being the cause of such a

misfortune to her.

Mrs. Morris having found it easy to reconcile herself to her lady, by

assuring her, that Lady Bella was acquainted with great part of her

story before; and that what she told her, tended only to justify her

conduct, as she might have been convinced by what Lady Bella said; they

both went home with a resolution to say nothing of what had passed,

with relation to the cause of the disgust Miss Groves had received; but

only said, in general, that Lady Bella was the most ridiculous creature

in the world; and was so totally ignorant of good breeding, that it was

impossible to converse with her.

Chapter VII.

_Which treats of the Olympic Games._

While Arabella was ruminating on the unaccountable behaviour of her new

acquaintance, she received a letter from her uncle, informing her (for

she had expressly forbid Mr. Glanville to write to her), that his son

and daughter intended to set out for her seat in a few days.

This news was received with great satisfaction by Arabella, who hoped

to find an agreeable companion in her cousin; and was not so insensible

of Mr. Glanville's merit, as not to feel some kind of pleasure at the

thought of seeing him again.

This letter was soon followed by the arrival of Mr. Glanville and his

sister; who, upon the sight of Arabella, discovered some appearance

of astonishment and chagrin; for, notwithstanding all her brother had

told her of her accomplishments, she could not conceive it possible for

a young lady, bred up in the country, to be so perfectly elegant and

genteel as she found her cousin.

As Miss Charlotte had a large share of coquetry in her composition, and

was fond of beauty in none of her own sex but herself, she was sorry to

see Lady Bella possessed of so great a share; and, being in hopes her

brother had drawn a flattering figure of her cousin, she was extremely

disappointed at finding the original so handsome.

Arabella, on the contrary, was highly pleased with Miss Glanville; and,

finding her person very agreeable, did not fail to commend her beauty:

a sort of complaisance mightily in use among the heroines, who knew not

what envy or emulation meant.

Miss Glanville received her praises with great politeness, but could

not find in her heart to return them: and, as soon as these compliments

were over, Mr. Glanville told Lady Bella how tedious he had found the

short absence she had forced him to, and how great was his satisfaction

at seeing her again.

I shall not dispute the truth of your last assertion, replied Arabella,

smiling, since I verily believe you are mighty well satisfied at

present; but I know not how you will make it appear that an absence,

which you allow to be short, has seemed so tedious to you; for this is

a manifest contradiction. However, pursued she, preventing his reply,

you look so well, and so much at ease, that I am apt to believe absence

has agreed very well with you.

And yet I assure you, madam, said Mr. Glanville, interrupting her, that

I have suffered more uneasiness during this absence, than I fear you

will permit me to tell you.

Since, replied Arabella, that uneasiness has neither made you thinner,

nor paler, I don't think you ought to be pitied: for, to say the truth,

in these sort of matters, a person's bare testimony has but little

weight.

Mr. Glanville was going to make her some answer; when Miss Glanville,

who, while they had been speaking, was adjusting her dress at the

glass, came up to them, and made the conversation more general.

After dinner, they adjourned to the gardens, where the gay Miss

Glanville, running eagerly from one walk to another, gave her brother

as many opportunities of talking to Lady Bella as he could wish.

However, he stood in such awe of her, and dreaded so much another

banishment, that he did not dare, otherwise than by distant hints,

to mention his passion; and Arabella, well enough pleased with a

respect that in some measure came up to her expectation, discovered

no resentment at insinuations she was at liberty to dissemble the

knowledge of; and if he could not, by her behaviour, flatter himself

with any great hopes, yet he found as little reason, in Arabella's

language, to despair.

Miss Glanville, at the end of a few weeks, was so tired of the

magnificent solitude she lived in, that she heartily repented her

journey; and insinuated to her brother her inclination to return to

town.

Mr. Glanville, knowing his stay was regulated by his sister's,

entreated her not to expose him to the mortification of leaving

Arabella so soon; and promised her he would contrive some amusements

for her, which should make her relish the country better than she had

yet done.

Accordingly, he proposed to Arabella to go to the races, which were to

be held at ----, a few miles from the castle. She would have excused

herself, upon account of her mourning; but Miss Glanville discovered

so great an inclination to be present at this diversion, that Arabella

could no longer refuse to accompany her.

Since, said she to Miss Glanville, you are fond of public diversions,

it happens very luckily, that these races are to be held at the time

you are here. I never heard of them before, and I presume it is a good

many years since they were last celebrated. Pray, sir, pursued she,

turning to Glanville, do not these races, in some degree, resemble the

Olympic games? Do the candidates ride in chariots?

No, madam, replied Glanville; the jockeys are mounted upon the fleetest

coursers they can procure; and he who first reaches the goal obtains

the prize.

And who is the fair lady that is to bestow it? resumed Arabella. I dare

engage one of her lovers will enter the lists; she will, doubtless,

be in no less anxiety than he; and the shame of being overcome will

hardly affect him with more concern than herself; that is, provided he

be so happy as to have gained her affections. I cannot help thinking

the fair Elismonda was extremely happy in this particular: for she had

the satisfaction to see her secret admirer victor in all the exercises

at the Olympic games, and carry away the prize from many princes and

persons of rare quality, who were candidates with him; and he had also

the glory to receive three crowns in one day, from the hands of his

adored princess; who, questionless, bestowed them upon him with an

infinite deal of joy.

What sort of races were these, madam? said Miss Glanville; whose

reading had been very confined.

The Olympic games, miss, said Arabella, so called from Olympia, a city

near which they were performed, in the plains of Elis, consisted of

foot and chariot-races; combats with the cestus; wrestling, and other

sports. They were instituted in honour of the gods and heroes; and were

therefore termed sacred, and were considered as a part of religion.

They were a kind of school, or military apprenticeship; in which

the courage of the youth found constant employment: and the reason

why victory in those games was attended with such extraordinary

applause, was, that their minds might be quickened with great and

noble prospects, when, in this image of war, they arrived to a pitch

of glory, approaching, in some respects, to that of the most famous

conquerors. They thought this sort of triumph one of the greatest parts

of happiness of which human nature was capable: so that when Diagoras

had seen his sons crowned in the Olympic games, one of his friends made

him this compliment: "Now, Diagoras, you may die satisfied; since you

can't be a god." It would tire you, perhaps, was I to describe all the

exercises performed there: but you may form a general notion of them,

from what you have doubtless read of justs and tournaments.

Really, said Miss Glanville, I never read about any such things.

No! replied Arabella, surprised. Well, then, I must tell you, that they

hold a middle place, between a diversion and a combat; but the Olympic

games were attended with a much greater pomp and variety: and not only

all Greece, but other neighbouring nations, were in a manner drained,

to furnish out the appearance.

Well, for my part, said Miss Glanville, I never before heard of these

sort of races. Those I have been at were quite different. I know the

prizes and bets are sometimes very considerable.

And, doubtless, interrupted Arabella, there are a great many heroes who

signalize themselves at these races; not for the sake of the prize,

which would be unworthy of great souls, but to satisfy that burning

desire of glory, which spurs them on to every occasion of gaining it.

As for the heroes, or jockeys, said Miss Glanville, call them what you

please, I believe they have very little share, either of the profit or

glory: for their masters have the one, and the horses the other.

Their masters! interrupted Arabella: what, I suppose a great many

foreign princes send their favourites to combat, in their name?

I remember to have read, that Alcibiades triumphed three times

successively at the Olympic games, by means of one of his domestics,

who, in his master's name, entered the lists.

Mr. Glanville, fearing his sister would make some absurd answer, and

thereby disoblige his cousin, took up the discourse: and, turning it

upon the Grecian history, engrossed her conversation for two hours,

wholly to himself; while Miss Glanville (to whom all they said was

quite unintelligible) diverted herself with humming a tune, and

tinkling her cousin's harpsichord; which proved no interruption to the

more rational entertainment of her brother and Arabella.

Chapter VIII.

_Which concludes with an excellent moral sentence._

The day being come on which they designed to be present at the races

(or, as Arabella called them, the games), Miss Glanville, having spent

four long hours in dressing herself to the greatest advantage, in

order, if possible, to eclipse her lovely cousin, whose mourning, being

much deeper, was less capable of ornaments, came into her chamber; and,

finding her still in her morning dress, For Heaven's sake, Lady Bella,

said she, when do you purpose to be ready? Why it is almost time to be

gone, my brother says, and here you are not a bit dressed!

Don't be uneasy, said Arabella, smiling; and, going to her toilet, I

shan't make you wait long.

Miss Glanville, seating herself near the table, resolved to be present

while her cousin was dressing, that she might have an opportunity to

make some remarks to her disadvantage: but she was extremely mortified

to observe the haste and negligence she made her women use in this

important employment; and that, notwithstanding her indifference,

nothing could appear more lovely and genteel.

Miss Glanville, however, pleased herself with the certainty of seeing

her cousin's dress extremely ridiculed, for the peculiar fashion of

her gown; and the veil, which, as becoming as it was, would, by its

novelty, occasion great diversion among the ladies, helped to comfort

her for the superiority of her charms; which, partial as she was to her

own, she could not help secretly confessing.

Arabella being dressed in much less time than her cousin, Mr. Glanville

was admitted, who led her down stairs to her coach. His sister

(secretly repining at the advantage Arabella had over her, in having so

respectful an adorer) followed; and, being placed in the coach, they

set out with great appearance of good-humour on all sides.

They got to ---- but just time enough to see the beginning of the

first course. Arabella, who fancied the jockeys were persons of great

distinction, soon became interested in the fate of one of them, whose

appearance pleased her more than the others. Accordingly, she made vows

for his success, and appeared so extremely rejoiced at the advantage

he had gained, that Miss Glanville maliciously told her, people would

make remarks at the joy she expressed, and fancy she had a more than

ordinary interest in that jockey, who had first reached the goal.

Mr. Glanville, whom this impertinent insinuation of his sister had

filled with confusion and spite, sat biting his lips, trembling for

the effect it would produce in Arabella: but she, giving quite another

turn to her cousin's words, I assure you, said she, with a smile, I am

not any farther interested in the fate of this person, who has hitherto

been successful, than what the handsomeness of his garb, and the

superiority of his skill, may demand from an unprejudiced spectator:

and though I perceive you imagine he is some concealed lover of mine,

yet I don't remember to have ever seen him; and I am confident it is

not for my sake that he entered the lists; nor is it my presence which

animates him.

Lord bless me, madam! replied Miss Glanville, who would ever think of

such strange things as these you talk of? Nobody will pretend to deny

that you are very handsome, to be sure; but yet, thank Heaven, the

sight of you is not so dangerous, but that such sort of people as these

are may escape your chains.

Arabella was so wholly taken up with the event of the races, that she

gave but very little heed to this sarcastic answer of Miss Glanville;

whose brother, taking advantage of an opportunity which Arabella

gave him by putting her head quite out of the coach, chid her very

severely for the liberty she took with her cousin. Arabella, by looking

earnestly out of the window, had given so full a view of her fine

person to a young baronet, who was not many paces from the coach, that,

being struck with admiration at the sight of so lovely a creature, he

was going up to some of her attendants to ask who she was, when he

perceived Mr. Glanville, with whom he was intimately acquainted, in

the coach with her: immediately he made himself known to his friend,

being excessively rejoiced at having got an opportunity of beginning an

acquaintance with a lady whose sight had so charmed him.

Mr. Glanville, who had observed the profound bow he made to Arabella,

accompanied with a glance that showed an extreme admiration of her,

was very little pleased at this meeting; yet he dissembled his

thoughts well enough in his reception of him. But Miss Glanville was

quite overjoyed, hoping she would now have her turn of gallantry

and compliment: therefore, accosting him in her free manner, Dear

Sir George, said she, you come in a lucky time to brighten up the

conversation: relations are such dull company for one another, it is

half a minute since we have exchanged a word.

My cousin, said Arabella smiling, has so strange a disposition for

mirth, that she thinks all her moments are lost, in which she finds

nothing to laugh at: for my part, I do so earnestly long to know, to

which of these pretenders fortune will give the victory, that I can

suffer my cares for them to receive no interruption from my cousin's

agreeable gaiety.

Mr. Glanville, observing the baronet gazed upon Arabella earnestly

while she was speaking those few words, resolved to hinder him from

making any reply, by asking him several questions concerning the

racers, their owners, and the bets which were laid; to which Arabella

added, And pray, sir, said she, do me the favour to tell me, if you

know who that gallant man is, who has already won the first course.

I don't know really, madam, said Sir George, what his name is,

extremely surprised at her manner of asking.

The jockey had now gained the goal a second time; and Arabella could

not conceal her satisfaction. Questionless, said she, he is a very

extraordinary person; but I am afraid we shall not have the pleasure

of knowing who he is; for if he has any reason for keeping himself

concealed, he will evade any enquiries after him, by slipping out of

the lists while this hurry and tumult lasts, as Hortensius did at the

Olympic games; yet, notwithstanding all his care, he was discovered by

being obliged to fight a single combat with one of the persons whom he

had worsted at those games.

Mr. Glanville, who saw his sister, by her little coquetries with Sir

George, had prevented him from hearing great part of this odd speech,

proposed returning to the castle, to which Arabella agreed; but

conceiving civility obliged her to offer the convenience of a lodging

to a stranger of Sir George's appearance, and who was an acquaintance

of her cousin's, You must permit me, said she to Mr. Glanville, to

entreat your noble friend will accompany us to the castle, where he

will meet with better accommodations than at any inn he can find; for

I conceive, that coming only to be a spectator of these games, he is

wholly unprovided with a lodging.

The baronet, surprised at so uncommon a civility, was at a loss what

answer to make her at first; but recollecting himself, he told her that

he would, if she pleased, do himself the honour to attend her home;

but, as his house was at no great distance from ----, he would be put

to no inconveniency for a lodging.

Miss Glanville, who was not willing to part so soon with the baronet,

insisted, with her cousin's leave, upon his coming into the coach;

which he accordingly did, giving his horse to the care of his servant;

and they proceeded together to the castle; Arabella still continuing to

talk of the games, as she called them, while poor Glanville, who was

excessively confused, endeavoured to change the discourse, not without

an apprehension, that every subject he could think of would afford

Arabella an occasion of showing her foible; which, notwithstanding the

pain it gave him, could not lessen the love he felt for her.

Sir George, whose admiration of Lady Bella increased the longer he saw

her, was extremely pleased with the opportunity she had given him of

cultivating an acquaintance with her: he therefore lengthened out his

visit, in hopes of being able to say some fine things to her before he

went away; but Miss Glanville, who strove by all the little arts she

was mistress of, to engage his conversation wholly to herself, put it

absolutely out of his power; so that he was obliged to take his leave

without having the satisfaction of even pressing the fair hand of

Arabella, so closely was he observed by her cousin. Happy was it for

him, that he was prevented by her vigilance from attempting a piece of

gallantry which would undoubtedly have procured him a banishment from

her presence; but, ignorant how kind fortune was to him in baulking his

designs, he was ungrateful enough to go away in a mighty ill humour

with this fickle goddess: so little capable are poor mortals of knowing

what is best for them!

Chapter IX.

_Containing some curious anecdotes._

Lady Bella, from the familiarity with which Miss Glanville treated this

gay gentleman, concluding him her lover, and one who was apparently

well received by her, had a strong curiosity to know her adventures;

and as they were walking the next morning in the garden, she told her,

that she thought it was very strange they had hitherto observed such a

reserve to each other, as to banish mutual trust and confidence from

their conversation. Whence comes it, cousin, added she, being so young

and lovely as you are, that you, questionless, have been engaged in

many adventures, you have never reposed trust enough in me to favour me

with a recital of them?

Engaged in many adventures, madam! returned Miss Glanville, not liking

the phrase: I believe I have been engaged in as few as your ladyship.

You are too obliging, returned Arabella, who mistook what she said for

a compliment; for since you have more beauty than I, and have also had

more opportunities of making yourself beloved, questionless you have a

greater number of admirers.

As for admirers, said Miss Charlotte bridling, I fancy I have had my

share! Thank God, I never found myself neglected; but, I assure you,

madam, I have had no adventures, as you call them, with any of them.

No, really! interrupted Arabella, innocently.

No, really, madam, retorted Miss Glanville; and I am surprised you

should think so.

Indeed, my dear, said Arabella, you are very happy in this respect, and

also very singular; for I believe there are few young ladies in the

world, who have any pretensions to beauty, that have not given rise to

a great many adventures; and some of them haply very fatal.

If you knew more of the world, Lady Bella, said Miss Glanville pertly,

you would not be so apt to think, that young ladies engage themselves

in troublesome adventures. Truly the ladies that are brought up in town

are not so ready to run away with every man they see.

No, certainly, interrupted Arabella; they do not give their consent

to such proceedings; but for all that, they are doubtless run away

with many times; for truly there are some men, whose passions are so

unbridled, that they will have recourse to the most violent methods to

possess themselves of the objects they love. Pray do you remember how

often Mandana was run away with?

Not I indeed, madam, replied Miss Glanville; I know nothing about her;

but I suppose she is a Jew, by her outlandish name.

She was no Jew, said Arabella, though she favoured that people very

much; for she obtained the liberty of great numbers of them from Cyrus,

who had taken them captives, and could deny her nothing she asked.

Well, said Miss Glanville; and I suppose she denied _him_ nothing he

asked; and so they were even.

Indeed but she did though, resumed Arabella; for she refused to give

him a glorious scarf which she wore, though he begged it on his knees.

And she was very much in the right, said Miss Glanville; for I see no

reason why a lover should expect a gift of any value from his mistress.

Doubtless, said Arabella, such a gift was worthy a million of services;

and had he obtained it, it would have been a glorious distinction for

him: however, Mandana refused it; and, severely virtuous as you are, I

am persuaded you can't help thinking, she was a little too rigorous in

denying a favour to a lover like him--

Severely virtuous, Lady Bella! said Miss Glanville, reddening with

anger. Pray what do you mean by that? Have you any reason to imagine, I

would grant any favour to a lover?

Why, if I did, cousin, said Arabella, would it derogate so much from

your glory, think you, to bestow a favour upon a lover worthy your

esteem, and from whom you had received a thousand marks of a most pure

and faithful passion, and also a great number of very singular services?

I hope, madam, said Miss Glanville, it will never be my fate to be so

much obliged to any lover, as to be under a necessity of granting him

favours in requital.

I vow, cousin, interrupted Arabella, you put me in mind of the fair and

virtuous Antonia, who was so rigid and austere, that she thought all

expressions of love were criminal; and was so far from granting any

person permission to love her, that she thought it a mortal offence to

be adored even in private.

Miss Glanville, who could not imagine Arabella spoke this seriously,

but that it was designed to sneer at her great eagerness to make

conquests, and the liberties she allowed herself in, which had probably

come to her knowledge, was so extremely vexed at the malicious jest, as

she thought it, that, not being able to revenge herself, she burst into

tears.

Arabella's good-nature made her greatly affected at this sight; and,

asking her pardon for having undesignedly occasioned her so much

uneasiness, begged her to be composed, and tell her in what she had

offended her, that she might to be able to justify herself in her

apprehensions.

You have made no scruple to own, madam, said she, that you think me

capable of granting favours to lovers, when, Heaven knows, I never

granted a kiss without a great deal of confusion.

And you had certainly much reason for confusion, said Arabella,

excessively surprised at such a confession: I assure you I never

injured you so much in my thoughts, as to suppose you ever granted a

favour of so criminal a nature.

Look you there now! said Miss Glanville, weeping more violently than

before. I knew what all your round-about speeches would come to. All

you have said in vindication of granting favours, was only to draw me

into a confession of what I have done: how ungenerous was that!

The favours I spoke of, madam, said Arabella, were quite of another

nature, than those it seems you have so liberally granted: such as

giving a scarf, a bracelet, or some such thing, to a lover, who had

haply sighed whole years in silence, and did not presume to declare

his passion, till he had lost best part of his blood in defence of the

fair-one he loved. It was when you maintained, that Mandana was in

the right to refuse her magnificent scarf to the illustrious Cyrus,

that I took upon me to oppose your rigidness; and so much mistaken

was I in your temper, that I foolishly compared you to the fair and

wise Antonia, whose severity was so remarkable; but really, by what

I understand from your own confession, your disposition resembles

that of the inconsiderate Julia, who would receive a declaration of

love without anger from any one; and was not over-shy, any more than

yourself, of granting favours almost as considerable as that you have

mentioned.

While Arabella was speaking, Miss Glanville, having dried up her tears,

sat silently swelling with rage, not knowing whether she should openly

avow her resentment for the injurious language her cousin had used to

her, by going away immediately, or, by making up the matter, appear

still to be her friend, that she might have the more opportunities of

revenging herself. The impetuosity of her temper made her most inclined

to the former; but the knowledge that Sir George was to stay yet some

months in the country, made her unwilling to leave a place, where she

might often see a man whose fine person had made some impression upon

her heart; and, not enduring to leave such a charming conquest to

Arabella, she resolved to suppress her resentment for the present; and

listened, without any appearance of discomposure, to a fine harangue

of her cousin upon the necessity of reserve, and distant behaviour, to

men who presumed to declare themselves lovers, enforcing her precepts

with examples drawn from all the romances she had ever read; at the end

of which she embraced her, and assured her, if she had said any thing

harsh, it proceeded from her great regard to her glory, of which she

ardently wished to see her as fond as herself.

Miss Glanville constrained herself to make a reply that might not

appear disagreeable: and they were upon these terms when Mr. Glanville

came up to them, and told Lady Bella Sir George had sent to entreat

their company at his house that day. But, added he, as I presume you

will not think proper to go, on account of your mourning, neither my

sister nor I will accept the invitation.

I dare say, interrupted Miss Glanville hastily, Lady Bella will not

expect such a needless piece of ceremony from us; and, if she don't

think proper to go, she won't confine _us_.

By no means, cousin, said Arabella, smiling; and being persuaded Sir

George makes the entertainment purely for your sake, it would not be

kind in me to deprive him of your company.

Mr. Glanville, being pleased to find his cousin discovered no

inclination to go, would have persuaded his sister not to leave Lady

Bella; but Miss Glanville looked so much displeased at his request,

that he was obliged to insist upon it no more; and both retiring to

dress, Lady Bella went up to her apartment, and betook herself to her

books, which supplied the place of all company to her.

Miss Glanville, having taken more than ordinary pains in dressing

herself, in order to appear charming in the eyes of Sir George, came in

to pay her compliments to Lady Bella before she went, not doubting but

she would be chagrined to see her look so well: but Lady Bella, on the

contrary, praised the clearness of her complexion, and the sparkling of

her eyes.

I question not, said she, but you will give fetters to more persons

than one to-day; but remember, I charge you, added she smiling, while

you are taking away the liberty of others, to have a special care of

your own.

Miss Glanville, who could not think it possible one woman could praise

another with any sincerity, cast a glance at the glass, fearing it was

rather because she looked but indifferently that her cousin was so

lavish in her praises; and while she was settling her features in a

mirror which every day represented a face infinitely more lovely than

her own, Mr. Glanville came in, who, after having very respectfully

taken leave of Lady Bella, led his sister to the coach.

Sir George, who was extremely mortified to find Lady Bella not in it,

handed Miss Glanville out with an air so reserved, that she rallied him

upon it; and gave her brother a very unpleasing emotion, by telling Sir

George she hoped Lady Bella's not coming along with them would not make

him bad company.

As he was too gallant to suffer an handsome young lady, who spread all

her attractions for him, to believe he regretted the absence of another

when she was present; he coquetted with her so much, that Mr. Glanville

was in hopes his sister would wholly engage him from Lady Bella.

Chapter X.

_In which our heroine is engaged in a very perilous adventure._

In the mean time, that solitary fair-one was alarmed by a fear of a

very unaccountable nature; for being in the evening in her closet, the

windows of which had a prospect of the gardens, she saw her illustrious

concealed lover, who went by the name of Edward, while he was in her

father's service, talking with great emotion to her house-steward,

who seemed earnestly to listen to some propositions he was making to

him. Her surprise at this sight was so great, that she had not power

to observe them any longer; but, seating herself in her chair, she had

just spirits enough to call Lucy to her assistance; who, extremely

frighted at the pale looks of her lady, gave her a smelling-bottle,

and was preparing to cut her lace, when Arabella, preventing her, told

her in a low voice, that she feared she should be betrayed into the

hands of an insolent lover, who was come to steal her away. Yes, added

she with great emotion, I have seen this presumptuous man holding a

conversation with one of my servants; and though I could not possibly,

at this distance, hear their discourse, yet the gestures they used in

speaking explained it too well to me; and I have reason to expect, I

shall suffer the same violence that many illustrious ladies have done

before me; and be carried away by force from my own house, as they were.

Alas! madam! said Lucy, terrified at this discourse, who is it that

intends to carry your ladyship away? Sure no robbers will attempt any

mischief at such a time as this!

Yes, Lucy, replied Arabella, with great gravity, the worst kind of

robbers; robbers who do not prey upon gold and jewels, but, what

is infinitely more precious, liberty and honour. Do you know that

person who called himself Edward, and worked in these gardens like a

common gardener, is now in the house, corrupting my servants; and,

questionless, preparing to force open my chamber, and carry me away?

And Heaven knows when I shall be delivered from his chains!

God forbid, said Lucy, sobbing, that ever such a lady should have such

hard hap! What crime, I wonder, can you be guilty of, to deserve to be

in chains?

My crime, resumed Arabella, is to have attractions which expose me to

these inevitable misfortunes, which even the greatest princesses have

not escaped.--But, dear Lucy, can you not think of some methods by

which I may avoid the evil which waits me? Who knows but that he may,

within these few moments, force a passage into my apartment? These

slight locks can make but a poor resistance to the violence he will be

capable of using.

Oh, dear madam! cried Lucy, trembling, and pressing near her, what

shall we do?

I asked your advice, said she; but I perceive you are less able than

myself to think of any thing to save me.--Ah! Glanville, pursued she,

sighing, would to Heaven thou wert here now!

Yes, madam, said Lucy, Mr. Glanville, I am sure, would not suffer any

one to hurt your ladyship.

As thou valuest my friendship, said Arabella, with great earnestness,

never acquaint him with what has just now escaped my lips. True, I

did call upon him in this perplexity; I did pronounce his name; and

that, haply, with a sigh, which involuntarily forced its way: and,

questionless, if he knew his good fortune, even amidst the danger

of losing me for ever, he would resent some emotions of joy: but I

should die with shame at having so indiscreetly contributed to his

satisfaction: and, therefore, again I charge you, conceal, with the

utmost care, what I have said.

Indeed, madam, said Lucy, I shall tell him nothing but what your

ladyship bids me; and I am so frighted, that I can think of nothing but

that terrible man, that wants to carry you away. Mercy on us! added

she, starting, I think I hear somebody on the stairs!

Do not be alarmed, said Arabella, in a majestic tone: it is I who have

most reason to fear: nevertheless, I hope the grandeur of my courage

will not sink under this accident. Hark, somebody knocks at the door of

my antechamber:--My own virtue shall support me:--Go, Lucy, and ask who

it is.

Indeed I can't, madam, said she, clinging to her. Pray pardon me:

indeed I am so afraid, I cannot stir.

Weak-souled wench! said Arabella, how unfit art thou for accidents like

these! Ah! had Cylenia and Martesia been like thee, the fair Berenice,

and the divine princess of Media, had not so eagerly entreated their

ravishers to afford them their company in their captivity! But go, I

order you, and ask who it is that is at the door of my apartment: they

knock again: offer at no excuses; but do your duty.

Lucy, seeing her lady was really angry, went trembling out of the

closet; but would go no farther than her bed-chamber, from whence she

called out to know who was at the door.

I have some business with your lady, said the house-steward (for it was

he that knocked): can I speak with her at present?

Lucy, a little reassured by his voice, made no answer; but, creeping

softly to the door of the antechamber, double locked it; and then cried

out in a transport, No, I will take care you shall not come to my lady.

And why, pray, Mrs. Lucy? said the steward: What have I done, that you

are so much my enemy?

You are a rogue, said Lucy, growing very courageous, because the door

was locked between them.

A rogue! said he: what reason have you for calling me a rogue? I assure

you I will acquaint my lady with your insolence. I came to speak to her

ladyship about Edward; who prayed me to intercede for him, that he may

be taken again into her service: for he says my lady never believed any

thing against him; and that was my business: but when I see her, I'll

know whether you are allowed to abuse me in this manner.

Arabella, by this time, was advanced as far as the bed-chamber, longing

to know what sort of conference Lucy was holding with her intended

ravisher; when that faithful confidante, seeing her, came running to

her, and whispered her, that the house-steward was at the door, and

said he wanted to intercede for Edward.

Ah! the traitor! said Arabella, retiring again: has he, then, really

bargained with that disloyal man, to deliver up his mistress? I am

undone, Lucy, said she, unless I can find a way to escape out of the

house. They will, questionless, soon force the doors of my apartment.

Suppose, said Lucy, your ladyship went down the stairs that lead from

your dressing-room into the garden; and you may hide yourself in the

gardener's house till Mr. Glanville come.

I approve, said Arabella, of one part of your proposal: but I shall

not trust myself in the gardener's house; who, questionless, is in the

plot with the rest of my perfidious servants, since none of them have

endeavoured to advertise me of my danger. If we can gain the gardens

undiscovered, we may get out by that door at the foot of the terrace,

which leads into the fields; for you know I always keep the key of that

private door: so, Lucy, let us commend ourselves to the direction of

Providence, and be gone immediately.

But what shall we do, madam, said Lucy, when we are got out?

Why, said Arabella, you shall conduct me to your brother's; and,

probably, we may meet with some generous cavalier by the way, who will

protect us till we get thither: however, as I have as great a danger

to fear within doors, as without, I will venture to make my escape,

though I should not be so fortunate as to meet with any knight who will

undertake to protect me from the danger which I may apprehend in the

fields.

Saying this, she gave the key of the door to Lucy, whose heart beat

violently with fear; and, covering herself with some black cypress,

which she wore in the nature of a veil, went softly down the little

staircase to the terrace, followed by Lucy (who looked eagerly about

her every step that she went); and, having gained the garden-door,

hastily unlocked it, and fled as fast as possible across the fields,

in order to procure a sanctuary at William's house; Arabella begging

Heaven to throw some generous cavalier in her way, whose protection she

might implore, and, taking every tree at a distance for a horse and

knight, hastened her steps to meet her approaching succour; which as

soon as she came near, miserably baulked her expectations.

Though William's farm was not more than two miles from the castle; yet

Arabella, unused to such a rude way of travelling, began to be greatly

fatigued: the fear she was in of being pursued by her apprehended

ravisher, had so violent an effect upon her spirits, that she was

hardly able to prosecute her flight; and to complete her misfortunes,

happening to stumble over a stump of a tree that lay in her way, she

strained her ancle; and the violent anguish she felt, threw her into a

swoon.

Lucy, upon whose arm she leaned, perceiving her fainting, screamed out

aloud, not knowing what to do with her in that condition: she placed

her upon the ground; and supporting her head against that fatal stump,

began to rub her temples, weeping excessively all the time. Her swoon

still continuing, the poor girl was in inconceivable terror: her

brother's house was now but a little way off; but it being impossible

for her to carry her lady thither without some help, she knew not what

to resolve upon.

At length, thinking it better to leave her for a few moments to run

for assistance, than to sit by her and see her perish for want of it,

she left her, though not without extreme agony; and flew, with the

utmost eagerness, to her brother's. She was lucky enough to meet him

just coming out of his door; and telling him the condition in which

she left her lady, he, without asking any questions about the occasion

of so strange an accident, notwithstanding his amazement, ran with all

speed to the place where Lucy had left her: but, to their astonishment

and sorrow, she was not to be found: they walked a long time in search

of her; and Lucy, being almost distracted with fear lest she had been

carried away, made complaints that so puzzled her brother he knew not

what to say to her: but finding their search fruitless, they agreed to

go home to the castle, supposing, with some appearance of reason, that

they might hear of her there.

Here they found nothing but grief and confusion. Mr. Glanville and his

sister were just returned, and had been at Lady Bella's apartment;

but, not finding her there, they asked her women where she was, who,

not knowing any thing of her flight, concluded she was in the garden

with Lucy. Mr. Glanville, surprised at her being at that hour in the

garden, ran eagerly to engage her to come in, being apprehensive she

would take cold, by staying so late in the air: but, not finding her in

any of her usual walks, he ordered several of the servants to assist

him in searching the whole garden, sending them to different places:

but they all returned without success; which filled him with the utmost

consternation.

He was returning, excessively uneasy, to the house, when he saw Lucy;

who had been just told, in answer to her enquiries about her lady, that

they were gone to look for her in the garden; and running up to Mr.

Glanville, who hoped to hear news of Lady Bella from her, Oh! sir, said

she, is my lady found?

What! Lucy, said Mr. Glanville (more alarmed than before), do not you

know where she is? I thought you had been with her.

Oh! dear, cried Lucy, wringing her hands; for certain my poor lady

was stolen away while she was in that fainting fit. Sir, said she to

Glanville, I know who the person is that my lady said (and almost broke

my heart) would keep her in chains: he was in the house not many hours

ago.

Mr. Glanville, suspecting this was some new whim of Arabella's, would

not suffer Lucy to say any more before the servants, who stood gaping

with astonishment at the strange things she uttered; but bade her

follow him to his apartment, and he would hear what she could inform

him concerning this accident. He would, if possible, have prevented his

sister from being present at the story; but, not being able to form any

excuse for not suffering her to hear every thing that related to her

cousin, they all three went into his chamber; where he desired Lucy to

tell him what she knew about her lady.

You must know, sir, said Lucy, sobbing, that there came a man here to

take away my lady: a great man he is, though he worked in the gardens;

for he was in love with her: and so he would not own who he was.

And pray, interrupted Miss Glanville, who told you he was a great man,

as you say?

My lady told me, said Lucy: But, _howsomever_, he was turned away; for

the gardener says he catched him stealing carp.

A very great man, indeed, said Miss Glanville, that would steal carp!

You must know, madam, said she, that was only a pretence: for he went

there, my lady says, to drown himself.

Bless me! cried Miss Glanville, laughing; the girl's distracted, sure.

Lord! brother, don't listen to her nonsensical tales; we shall never

find my cousin by her.

Leave her to me, said Mr. Glanville, whispering: perhaps I may discover

something by her discourse, that will give us some light into this

affair.

Nay, I'll stay, I am resolved, answered she; for I long to know where

my cousin is: though, do you think what this girl says is true, about

a great man disguised in the gardens? Sure my cousin could never tell

her such stuff: but, now I think of it, added she, Lady Bella, when we

were speaking about the jockey, talked something about a lover: I vow I

believe it is as the girl says. Pray let's hear her out.

Mr. Glanville was ready to die with vexation, at the charmer of his

soul being thus exposed; but there was no help for it.

Pray, said he to Lucy, tell us no more about this man: but, if you can

guess where your lady is, let me know.

Indeed I can't, sir, said she; for my lady and I both stole out of the

house, for fear Edward should break open the doors of her apartment;

and we were running as fast as possible to my brother's house (where

she said she would hide herself till you came); but my poor dear lady

fell down and hurt herself so much, that she fainted away: I tried what

I could to fetch her again; but she did not open her eyes: so I ran

like lightning to my brother, to come and help me to carry her to the

farm; but, when we came back, she was gone.

What do you say? cried Mr. Glanville, with a distracted look: Did you

leave her in that condition in the fields? And was she not to be found

when you came back?

No, indeed, sir, said Lucy, weeping; we could not find her, though we

wandered about a long time.

Oh! Heavens! said he, walking about the room in a violent emotion,

where can she be? What is become of her? Dear sister, pursued he, order

somebody to saddle my horse: I'll traverse the country all night in

quest of her.

You had best enquire, sir, said Lucy, if Edward is in the house: he

knows, may be, where my lady is.

Who is he? cried Glanville.

Why the great man, sir, said Lucy, whom we thought to be a gardener,

who came to carry my lady away; which made her get out of the house as

fast as she could.

This is the strangest story, said Miss Glanville, that ever I heard:

sure nobody would be so mad to attempt such an action; my cousin has

the oddest whims!

Mr. Glanville, not able to listen any longer, charged Lucy to say

nothing of this matter to any one; and then ran eagerly out of the

room, ordering two or three of the servants to go in search of their

lady: he then mounted his horse in great anguish of mind, not knowing

whither to direct his course.

Chapter XI.

_In which the lady is wonderfully delivered._

But to return to Arabella, whom we left in a very melancholy situation:

Lucy had not been gone long from her before she opened her eyes; and,

beginning to come perfectly to herself, was surprised to find her woman

not near her: the moon shining very bright, she looked round her, and

called Lucy as loud as she was able; but not seeing her, or hearing

any answer, her fears became so powerful, that she had like to have

relapsed into her swoon.

Alas! unfortunate maid that I am! cried she, weeping excessively,

questionless I am betrayed by her on whose fidelity I relied, and

who was acquainted with my most secret thoughts: she is now with my

ravisher, directing his pursuit, and I have no means of escaping from

his hands! Cruel and ungrateful wench, thy unparalleled treachery

grieves me no less than all my other misfortunes: but why do I say

her treachery is unparalleled? Did not the wicked Arianta betray her

mistress into the power of her insolent lover? Ah! Arabella, thou art

not single in thy misery, since the divine Mandana was, like thyself,

the dupe of a mercenary servant.

Having given a moment or two to these sad reflections, she rose from

the ground with an intention to walk on; but her ancle was so painful,

that she could hardly move: her tears began now to flow with greater

violence: she expected every moment to see Edward approach her; and

was resigning herself up to despair, when a chaise, driven by a young

gentleman, passed by her. Arabella, thanking Heaven for sending this

relief, called out as loud as she could, conjuring him to stay.

The gentleman, hearing a woman's voice, stopped immediately, and asked

what she wanted.

Generous stranger, said Arabella, advancing as well as she was able, do

not refuse your assistance to save me from a most terrible danger: I am

pursued by a person whom, for very urgent reasons, I desire to avoid.

I conjure you, therefore, in the name of her you love best, to protect

me; and may you be crowned with the enjoyment of all your wishes, for

so charitable an action!

If the gentleman was surprised at this address, he was much more

astonished at the beauty of her who made it: her stature, her shape,

her inimitable complexion, the lustre of her fine eyes, and the

thousand charms that adorned her whole person, kept him a minute

silently gazing upon her, without having the power to make her an

answer.

Arabella, finding he did not speak, was extremely disappointed. Ah!

sir, said she, what do you deliberate upon? Is it possible you can deny

so reasonable a request, to a lady in my circumstances?

For God's sake, madam, said the gentleman, alighting, and approaching

her, let me know who you are, and how I can be of any service to you.

As for my quality, said Arabella, be assured it is not mean: and let

this knowledge suffice at present. The service I desire of you is,

to convey me to some place where I may be in safety for this night.

To-morrow I will entreat you to let some persons, whom I shall name

to you, know where I am; to the end they may take proper measures to

secure me from the attempts of an insolent man, who has driven me from

my own house, by the designs he was going to execute.

The gentleman saw there was some mystery in her case, which she

did not choose to explain; and, being extremely glad at having so

beautiful a creature in his power, told her she might command him in

all she pleased; and helping her into the chaise, drove off as fast

as he could; Arabella suffering no apprehensions from being alone

with a stranger, since nothing was more common to heroines than such

adventures; all her fears being of Edward, whom she fancied every

moment she saw pursuing them: and, being extremely anxious to be in

some place of safety, she urged her protector to drive as fast as

possible; who, willing to have her at his own house, complied with her

request; but was so unlucky in his haste, as to overturn the chaise.

Though neither Arabella nor himself were hurt by the fall, yet the

necessity there was to stay some time to put the chaise in a condition

to carry them any farther, filled her with a thousand apprehensions,

lest they should be overtaken.

In the mean time, the servants of Arabella, among whom Edward, not

knowing how much he was concerned in her flight, was resolved to

distinguish himself by his zeal in searching for her, had dispersed

themselves about in different places: chance conducted Edward to the

very spot where she was: when Arabella, perceiving him while he was two

or three paces off, Oh! sir, cried she, behold my persecutor! Can you

resolve to defend me against the violence he comes to offer me?

The gentleman, looking up, and seeing a man in livery approaching them,

asked her, if that was the person she complained of; and if he was her

servant?

If he is my servant, sir, replied she, blushing, he never had my

permission to be so: and, indeed, no one else can boast of my having

granted them such a liberty.

Do you know whose servant he is, then, madam? replied the gentleman, a

little surprised at her answer, which he could not well understand.

You throw me into a great embarrassment, sir, resumed Arabella,

blushing more than before: questionless, he appears to be mine; but,

since, as I told you before, he never discovered himself to me, and

I never permitted him to assume that title, his services, if ever I

received any from him, were not at all considered by me as things for

which I was obliged to him.

The gentleman, still more amazed at answers so little to the purpose,

was going to desire her to explain herself upon this strange affair;

when Edward, coming up close to Arabella, cried out in a transport, Oh!

madam! thank God you are found.

Hold, impious man! said Arabella, and do not give thanks for that

which, haply, may prove thy punishment. If I am found, thou wilt be

no better for it: and, if thou continuest to persecute me, thou wilt

probably meet with thy death, where thou thinkest thou hast found thy

happiness.

The poor fellow, who understood not a word of this discourse, stared

upon her like one that had lost his wits; when the protector of

Arabella, approaching him, asked him, with a stern look, what he had to

say to that lady, and why he presumed to follow her?

As the man was going to answer him, Mr. Glanville came galloping up;

and Edward, seeing him, ran up to him, and informed him, that he

had met with Lady Bella, and a gentleman, who seemed to have been

overturned in a chaise, which he was endeavouring to refit; and that

her ladyship was offended with him for coming up to her; and also,

that the gentleman had used some threatening language to him upon that

account.

Mr. Glanville, excessively surprised at what he heard, stopped; and,

ordering a servant who came along with him to run back to the castle,

and bring a chaise thither to carry Lady Bella home, he asked Edward

several more questions relating to what she and the gentleman had said

to him: and, notwithstanding his knowledge of her ridiculous humour,

he could not help being alarmed by her behaviour, nor concluding that

there was something very mysterious in the affair.

While he was thus conversing with Edward, Arabella, who had spied him

almost as soon, was filled with apprehension to see him hold so quiet

a parly with her ravisher: the more she reflected upon this accident,

the more her suspicions increased; and, persuading herself at last,

that Mr. Glanville was privy to his designs, this belief, however

improbable, wrought so powerfully upon her imagination, that she could

not restrain her tears.

Doubtless, said she, I am betrayed, and the perjured Glanville is

no longer either my friend or lover: he is this moment concerting

measures with my ravisher, how to deliver me into his power; and, like

Philidaspes, is glad of an opportunity, by this treachery, to be rid of

a woman whom his parents and hers had destined for his wife.

Mr. Glanville, having learned all he could from Edward, alighted;

and giving him his horse to hold, came up to Arabella: and, after

expressing his joy at meeting with her, begged her to let him know what

accident had brought her, unattended, from the castle, at that time of

night.

If by this question, said the incensed Arabella, you would persuade me

you are ignorant of the cause of my flight, know, your dissimulation

will not succeed; and that, having reason to believe you are equally

guilty with him from whose intended violence I fled, I shall have

recourse to the valour of this knight you see with me, to defend me, as

well against you, as that ravisher, with whom I see you leagued.--Ah!

unworthy cousin, pursued she, what dost thou propose to thyself by

so black a treachery? What is to be the price of my liberty, which

thou so freely disposest of? Has thy friend there, said she (pointing

to Edward), a sister, or any relation, for whom thou barterest, by

delivering me up to him? But assure thyself, this stratagem shall be

of no use to thee: for, if thou art base enough to oppress my valiant

deliverer with numbers, and thinkest by violence to get me into thy

power, my cries shall arm heaven and earth in my defence. Providence

may, haply, send some generous cavaliers to my rescue; and, if

Providence fails me, my own hand shall give me freedom; for that moment

thou offerest to seize me, that moment shall be the last of my life.

While Arabella was speaking, the young gentleman and Edward, who

listened to her eagerly, thought her brain was disturbed: but Mr.

Glanville was in a terrible confusion, and silently cursed his ill

fate, to make him in love with a woman so ridiculous.

For Heaven's sake, cousin, said he, striving to repress some part of

his disorder, do not give way to these extravagant notions: there is

nobody intends to do you any wrong.

What! interrupted she, would you persuade me, that that impostor there,

pointing to Edward, has not a design to carry me away; which you, by

supporting him, are not equally guilty of?

Who? I! madam! cried out Edward: sure your ladyship does not suspect me

of such a strange design! God knows I never thought of such a thing!

Ah! dissembler! interrupted Arabella, do not make use of that sacred

name to mask thy impious falsehoods: confess with what intent you came

into my father's service disguised.

I never came disguised, madam, returned Edward.

No! said Arabella: what means that dress in which I see you, then?

It is the marquis's livery, madam, said Edward, which he did not order

to be taken from me when I left his service.

And with what purpose didst thou wear it? said she. Do not your

thoughts accuse you of your crime?

I always hoped, madam----said he.

You hoped! interrupted Arabella, frowning. Did I ever give you reason

to hope? I will not deny but I had compassion on you; but even that you

was ignorant of.

I know, madam, you had compassion on me, said Edward; for your

ladyship, I always thought, did not believe me guilty.

I was weak enough, said she, to have compassion on you, though I _did_

believe you guilty.

Indeed, madam, returned Edward, I always hoped, as I said before (but

your ladyship would not hear me out), that you did not believe any

malicious reports; and therefore you had compassion on me.

I had no reports of you, said she, but what my own observation gave me;

and that was sufficient to convince me of your fault.

Why, madam, said Edward, did your ladyship see me steal the carp then,

which was the fault unjustly laid to my charge?

Mr. Glanville, as much cause as he had for uneasiness, could with

great difficulty restrain laughter at this ludicrous circumstance; for

he guessed what crime Arabella was accusing him of. As for the young

gentleman, he could not conceive what she meant, and longed to hear

what would be the end of such a strange conference. But poor Arabella

was prodigiously confounded at his mentioning so low an affair; not

being able to endure that Glanville and her protector should know a

lover of hers could be suspected of so base a theft.

The shame she conceived at it, kept her silent for a moment: but,

recovering herself at last, No, said she, I knew you better than to

give any credit to such an idle report: persons of your condition do

not commit such paltry crimes.

Upon my soul, madam, said the young gentleman, persons of his condition

often do worse.

I don't deny it, sir, said Arabella; and the design he meditated of

carrying me away was infinitely worse.

Really, madam, returned the gentleman, if you are such a person as I

apprehend, I don't see how he durst make such an attempt.

It is very possible, sir, said she, that I might be carried away,

though I was of greater quality than I am: were not Mandana, Candace,

Clelia, and many other ladies who underwent the same fate, of a quality

more illustrious than mine?

Really, madam, said he, I know none of these ladies.

No, sir! said Arabella, extremely mortified.

Let me entreat you, cousin, interrupted Glanville (who feared this

conversation would be very tedious), to expose yourself no longer to

the air at this time of night: suffer me to conduct you home.

It concerns my honour, said she, that this generous stranger should

not think I am the only one that was ever exposed to these insolent

attempts. You say, sir, pursued she, that you don't know any of these

ladies I mentioned before: let me ask you, then, if you are acquainted

with Parthenissa, or Cleopatra, who were both for some months in the

hands of their ravishers?

As for Parthenissa, madam, said he, neither have I heard of her: nor do

I remember to have heard of any more than one Cleopatra: but she was

never ravished, I am certain; for she was too willing.

How! sir, said Arabella: was Cleopatra ever willing to run away with

her ravisher?

Cleopatra was a whore, was she not, madam? said he.

Hold thy peace, unworthy man, said Arabella; and profane not the memory

of that fair and glorious queen, by such injurious language: that

queen, I say, whose courage was equal to her beauty; and her virtue

surpassed by neither. Good heavens! what a black defamer have I chosen

for my protector!

Mr. Glanville, rejoicing to see Arabella in a disposition to be

offended with her new acquaintance, resolved to soothe her a little,

in hopes of prevailing upon her to return home. Sir, said he to the

gentleman, who could not conceive why the lady should so warmly defend

Cleopatra, you were in the wrong to cast such reflections upon that

great queen, (repeating what he had heard his cousin say before): for

all the world, pursued he, knows she was married to Julius Cæsar.

Though I commend you, said Arabella, for taking the part of a lady

so basely vilified; yet let not your zeal for her honour induce you

to say more than is true for its justification; for thereby you

weaken, instead of strengthening, what may be said in her defence.

One falsehood always supposes another, and renders all you can say

suspected; whereas pure, unmixed truth, carries conviction along with

it, and never fails to produce its desired effect.

Suffer me, cousin, interrupted Glanville, again to represent to you,

the inconveniency you will certainly feel, by staying so late in the

air: leave the justification of Cleopatra to some other opportunity;

and take care of your own preservation.

What is it you require of me? said Arabella.

Only, resumed Glanville, that you would be pleased to return to the

castle, where my sister, and all your servants, are inconsolable for

your absence.

But who can assure me, answered she, that I shall not, by returning

home, enter voluntarily into my prison? The same treachery which made

the palace of Candace the place of her confinement, may turn the castle

of Arabella into her gaol. For, to say the truth, I still more than

suspect you abet the designs of this man; since I behold you in his

party, and ready, no doubt, to draw your sword in his defence: how

will you be able to clear yourself of this crime? Yet I will venture

to return to my house, provided you will swear to me, you will offer

me no violence, with regard to your friend there: and also I insist,

that he, from this moment, disclaim all intentions of persecuting me,

and banish himself from my presence for ever. Upon this condition I

pardon him, and will likewise pray to Heaven to pardon him also. Speak,

presumptuous unknown, said she to Edward, wilt thou accept of my pardon

upon the terms I offer it thee? And wilt thou take thyself to some

place where I may never behold thee again?

Since your ladyship, said Edward, is resolved not to receive me into

your service, I shan't trouble you any more: but I think it hard to be

punished for a crime I was not guilty of.

It is better, said Arabella, turning from him, that thou shouldst

complain of my rigour, than the world tax me with lightness and

indiscretion. And now, sir, said she to Glanville, I must trust myself

to your honour, which I confess I do a little suspect; but, however, it

is possible you have repented, like the poor prince Thrasybulus, when

he submitted to the suggestions of a wicked friend, to carry away the

fair Alcionida, whom he afterwards restored. Speak, Glanville, pursued

she, are you desirous of imitating that virtuous prince, or do you

still retain your former sentiments?

Upon my word, madam, said Glanville, you will make me quite mad, if you

go on in this manner: pray let me see you safe home; and then, if you

please, you may forbid my entrance into the castle, if you suspect me

of any bad intentions towards you.

It is enough, said she, I will trust you. As for you, sir, speaking to

the young gentleman, you are so unworthy, in my apprehensions, by the

calumnies you have uttered against a person of that sex which merits

all your admiration and reverence, that I hold you very unfit to be a

protector of any of it: therefore I dispense with your services upon

this occasion; and think it better to trust myself to the conduct of a

person, who, like Thrasybulus, by his repentance, has restored himself

to my confidence, than to one, who, though indeed he has never betrayed

me, yet seems very capable of doing so, if he had the power.

Saying this, she gave her hand to Glanville, who helped her into the

chaise that was come from the castle; and the servant, who brought

it, mounting his horse, Mr. Glanville drove her home, leaving the

gentleman, who, by this time, had refitted his chaise, in the greatest

astonishment imaginable at her unaccountable behaviour.

BOOK III.

Chapter I.

_Two conversations, out of which the reader may pick up a great deal._

Arabella, continuing to ruminate upon her adventure during their little

journey, appeared so low-spirited and reserved, that Mr. Glanville,

though he ardently wished to know all the particulars of her flight

and meeting with that gentleman, whose company he found her in, was

obliged to suppress his curiosity for the present, out of a fear of

displeasing her. As soon as they alighted at the castle, her servants

ran to receive her at the gates, expressing their joy to see her again,

by a thousand confused exclamations.

Miss Glanville, being at her toilet when she heard of her arrival, ran

down to welcome her, in her hurry forgetting, that as her woman had

been curling her hair, she had no cap on.

Arabella received her compliments with a little coolness; for,

observing that her grief for her absence had not made her neglect any

of her usual solicitude about her person, she could not perceive it

had been very great: therefore, when she had made some slight answer

to the hundred questions she asked in a breath, she went up to her

apartment; and, calling Lucy, who was crying with joy for her return,

she questioned her strictly concerning her leaving her in the fields,

acknowledging to her that she suspected her fidelity, though she wished

at the same time she might be able to clear herself.

Lucy, in her justification, related, after her punctual way, all that

had happened: by which Arabella was convinced she had not betrayed her;

and was also in some doubt whether Mr. Glanville was guilty of any

design against her.

Since, said she to Lucy, thou art restored to my good opinion, I will,

as I have always done, unmask my thoughts to thee. I confess then,

with shame and confusion, that I cannot think of Mr. Glanville's

assisting the unknown to carry me away, without _resenting_ a most

poignant grief: questionless, my weakness will surprise thee; and could

I conceal it from myself, I would from thee; but, alas! it is certain

that I do not hate him; and I believe I never shall, guilty as he may

be in my apprehensions.

Hate him! madam, said Lucy: God forbid you should ever hate Mr.

Glanville, who, I am sure, loves your ladyship as well as he does his

own sister!

You are very confident, Lucy, said Arabella blushing, to mention the

word love to me: if I thought my cousin had bribed thee to it, I should

be greatly incensed: however, though I forbid you to talk of his

passion, yet I permit you to tell me the violence of his transports

when I was missing; the threats he uttered against my ravishers;

the complaints he made against fortune; the vows he offered for my

preservation; and, in fine, whatever extravagances the excess of his

sorrow forced him to commit.

I assure you, madam, said Lucy, I did not hear him say any of all this.

What! interrupted Arabella: and didst thou not observe the tears

trickle from his eyes, which, haply, he strove to conceal? Did he not

strike his bosom with the vehemence of his grief; and cast his accusing

and despairing eyes to Heaven, which had permitted such a misfortune to

befall me?

Indeed, madam, I did not, resumed Lucy; but he seemed to be very sorry;

and said he would go and look for your ladyship.

Ah! the traitor! interrupted Arabella in a rage: fain would I have

found out some excuse for him, and justified him in my apprehensions;

but he is unworthy of these favourable thoughts. Speak of him no more,

I command you: he is guilty of assisting my ravisher to carry me

away; and therefore merits my eternal displeasure. But though I could

find reasons to clear him even of that crime, yet he is guilty of

indifference and insensibility for my loss, since he neither died with

grief at the news of it; nor needed the interposition of his sister, or

the desire of delivering me, to make him live.

Arabella, when she had said this, was silent; but could not prevent

some tears stealing down her fair face: therefore, to conceal her

uneasiness, or to be at more liberty to indulge it, she ordered Lucy

to make haste and undress her; and, going to bed, passed the small

remainder of the night, not in rest, which she very much needed, but in

reflections on all the passages of the preceding day; and finding, or

imagining she found, new reasons for condemning Mr. Glanville, her mind

was very far from being at ease.

In the morning, lying later than usual, she received a message from

Mr. Glanville, enquiring after her health; to which she answered, that

he was too little concerned in the preservation of it, to make it

necessary to acquaint him.

Miss Glanville soon after sent to desire permission to drink her

chocolate by her bed-side; which, as she could not in civility refuse,

she was very much perplexed how to hide her melancholy from the eyes of

that discerning lady, who, she questioned not, would interpret it in

favour of her brother.

Upon Miss Glanville's appearance, she forced herself to assume a

cheerful look, asking her pardon for receiving her in bed; and

complaining of bad rest, which had occasioned her lying late.

Miss Glanville, after answering her compliments with almost equal

politeness, proceeded to ask her an hundred questions concerning

the cause of her absence from the castle: Your woman, pursued she,

laughing, told us a strange medley of stuff about a great man, who was

a gardener; and wanted to carry you away. Sure there was nothing in it!

Was there?

You must excuse me, cousin, said Arabella, if I do not answer your

questions precisely now: it is sufficient that I tell you, certain

reasons obliged me to act in the manner I did, for my own preservation;

and that, another time, you shall know my history; which will explain

many things you seem to be surprised at, at present.

Your history! said Miss Glanville. Why, will you write your own history

then?

I shall not write it, said Arabella; though, questionless, it will be

written after my death.

And must I wait till then for it? resumed Miss Glanville, gaily.

No, no, interrupted Arabella: I mean to gratify your curiosity sooner;

but it will not be yet a good time; and, haply, not till you have

acquainted me with yours.

Mine! said Miss Glanville: it would not be worth your hearing; for

really I have nothing to tell, that would make an history.

You have, questionless, returned Arabella, gained many victories

over hearts; have occasioned many quarrels between your servants, by

favouring some one more than the others: probably you have caused some

bloodshed; and have not escaped being carried away once or twice: you

have also, I suppose, undergone some persecution from those who have

the disposal of you, in favour of a lover whom you have an aversion to;

and lastly, there is haply some one among your admirers, who is happy

enough not to be hated by you.

I assure you, interrupted Miss Glanville, I hate none of my admirers;

and I can't help thinking you very unkind to use my brother as you do:

I am sure, there is not one man in an hundred that would take so much

from your hands as he does.

Then there is not one man in an hundred, resumed Arabella, whom I

should think worthy to serve me. But pray, madam, what ill usage

is it your brother complains of? I have treated him with much less

severity than he had reason to expect; and, notwithstanding he had the

presumption to talk to me of love, I have endured him in my sight; an

indulgence for which I may haply be blamed in after-ages.

Why, sure, Lady Bella, said Miss Glanville, it would be no such crime

for my brother to love you!

But it was a mortal crime to tell me so, interrupted Arabella.

And why was it such a mortal crime to tell you so? said Miss Glanville.

Are you the first woman by millions, that has been told so?

Doubtless, returned Arabella, I am the first woman of my quality,

that ever was told so by any man, till after an infinite number of

services, and secret sufferings: and truly I am of the illustrious

Mandana's mind; for she said, that she should think it an unpardonable

presumption, for the greatest king on earth to tell her he loved her,

though after ten years of the most faithful services, and concealed

torments.

Ten years! cried out Miss Glanville, in amazement; did she consider

what alterations ten years would make in her face, and how much older

she would be at the end of ten years, than she was before?

Truly, said Arabella, it is not usual to consider such little matters

so nicely; one never has the idea of an heroine older than eighteen,

though her history begins at that age; and the events which compose it

contain the space of twenty more.

But, dear cousin, resumed Miss Glanville, do you resolve to be ten

years a-courting? Or rather, will you be loved in silence ten years,

and be courted the other ten; and so marry when you are an old woman?

Pardon me, cousin, resumed Arabella; I must really find fault with the

coarseness of your language. Courting, and old woman! What strange

terms! Let us, I beseech you, end this dispute: if you have any thing

to say in justification of your brother, which, I suppose, was the

chief intention of your visit, I shall not be rude enough to restrain

you; though I could wish you would not lay me under the necessity of

hearing what I cannot persuade myself to believe.

Since, returned Miss Glanville, I know of no crime my brother has

been guilty of, I have nothing to say in his justification: I only

know, that he is very much mortified at the message you sent him this

morning; for I was with him when he received it. But pray, what has he

done to offend you?

If Mr. Glanville, interrupted Arabella, hopes for my pardon, he must

purchase it by his repentance, and a sincere confession of his fault;

which you may much better understand from himself, than from me: and,

for this purpose, I will condescend to grant him a private audience,

at which I desire you would be present; and also, I should take it

well, if you will let him know, that he owes this favour wholly to your

interposition.

Miss Glanville, who knew her brother was extremely desirous of seeing

Arabella, was glad to accept of these strange terms; and left her

chamber, in order to acquaint him with that lady's intentions.

Chapter II.

_A solemn interview._

In the mean time, that fair-one being risen, and negligently dressed,

as was her custom, went into her closet, sending to give Miss Glanville

notice that she was ready to see her. This message immediately brought

both the brother and the sister to her apartment: and Miss Glanville,

at her brother's request, staying in the chamber, where she busied

herself in looking at her cousin's jewels, which lay upon the toilet,

he came alone into the closet, in so much confusion at the thoughts of

the ridiculous figure he made in complying with Arabella's fantastical

humours, that his looks persuading her there was some great agitation

in his mind, she expected to see him fall at her feet, and endeavour to

deprecate her wrath by a deluge of tears.

Mr. Glanville however disappointed her in that respect; for, taking a

seat near her, he began to entreat her, with a smiling countenance,

to tell him in what he had offended her; protesting, that he was not

conscious of doing or saying any thing to displease her.

Arabella was greatly confused at this question, which she thought she

had no reason to expect; it not being possible for her to tell him she

was offended, that he was not in absolute despair for her absence,

without, at the same time, confessing she looked upon him in the light

of a lover whose expressions of a violent passion would not have

displeased her: therefore, to disengage herself from the perplexity his

question threw her into, she was obliged to offer some violence to her

ingenuousness; and, contrary to her real belief, tax him again with a

design of betraying her into the power of the unknown.

Mr. Glanville, though excessively vexed at her persisting in so

ridiculous an error, could hardly help smiling at the stern manner in

which she spoke; but, knowing of what fatal consequence it would be to

him, if he indulged any gaiety in so solemn a conference, he composed

his looks to a gravity suitable to the occasion; and asked her in a

very submissive tone, what motive she was pleased to assign for so

extraordinary a piece of villainy, as that she supposed him guilty of?

Truly, answered she blushing, I do not pretend to account for the

actions of wicked and ungenerous persons.

But, madam, resumed Glanville, if I must needs be suspected of a

design to seize upon your person, methinks it would have been more

reasonable to suppose I would rather use that violence in favour of

my own pretensions, than those of any other whatever; for, though you

have expressly forbid me to tell you I love you, yet I hope you still

continue to think I do.

I assure you, returned Arabella, assuming a severe look, I never gave

myself the trouble to examine your behaviour with care enough to be

sensible if you still were guilty of the weakness which displeased me;

but, upon a supposition that you repented of your fault, I was willing

to live with you upon terms of civility and friendship, as became

persons in that degree of relationship in which we are: therefore, if

you are wise, you will not renew the remembrance of those follies I

have long since pardoned; nor seek occasions of offending me by new

ones of the same kind, lest it produce a more severe sentence than that

I formerly laid upon you.

However, madam, returned Mr. Glanville, you must suffer me to assure

you, that my own interest, which was greatly concerned in your safety,

and my principles of honour, would never allow me to engage in so

villainous an enterprise, as that of abetting any person in stealing

you away: nor can I conceive how you possibly could imagine a fellow

who was your menial servant could form so presumptuous and dangerous a

design.

By your manner of speaking, resumed Arabella, one would imagine you

were really ignorant, both of the quality of that presumptuous man,

as well as his designed offence: but yet, it is certain, I saw you

in his company; and saw you ready to draw your sword in his defence,

against my deliverer. Had I not the evidence of my own senses for your

guilt, I must confess I could not be persuaded of it by any other

means: therefore, since appearances are certainly against you, it is

not strange if I cannot consent to acquit you in my apprehensions, till

I have more certain confirmation of your innocence, than your bare

testimony only; which, at present, has not all the weight with me it

had some time ago.

I protest, madam, said Mr. Glanville, who was strangely perplexed,

I have reason to think my case extremely hard, since I have brought

myself to be suspected by you, only through my eagerness to find you,

and solicitude for your welfare.

Doubtless, interrupted Arabella, if you are innocent, your case is

extremely hard; yet it is not singular; and therefore you have less

reason to complain: the valiant Coriolanus, who was the most passionate

and faithful lover imaginable, having, by his admirable valour,

assisted the ravishers of his adored Cleopatra, against those who

came to rescue her; and, by his arm alone, opposed to great numbers

of their enemies, facilitated the execution of their design, had the

mortification afterwards to know, that he had all that time been

fighting against that divine princess, who loaded him with the most

cruel reproaches for the injury he had done her: yet fortune was so

kind as to give him the means of repairing his fault, and restoring him

to some part of her good opinion; for, covered with wounds as he was,

and fatigued with fighting before, yet he undertook, in that condition,

to prevent her ravishers from carrying her off; and, for several

hours, continued fighting alone with near two hundred men, who were

not able to overcome him, notwithstanding his extreme weariness, and

the multitude of blows which they aimed at him: therefore, Glanville,

considering you, as Cleopatra did that unfortunate prince, who was

before suspected by her, as neither guilty nor innocent, I can only,

like her, wish you may find some occasion of justifying yourself from

the crime laid to your charge. Till then, I must be under a necessity

of banishing you from my presence, with the same consolatory speech she

used to that unfortunate prince:--"Go, therefore, Glanville, go, and

endeavour your own justification: I desire you should effect it no less

than you do yourself; and, if my prayers can obtain from Heaven this

favour for you, I shall not scruple to offer some _in your behalf_."

Chapter III.

_In which the interview is ended, not much to the lover's satisfaction,

but exactly conformable to the rules of romance._

Arabella, when she had pronounced these words, blushed excessively,

thinking she had said too much: but, not seeing any signs of extreme

joy in the face of Glanville, who was silently cursing Cleopatra, and

the authors of those romances that had ruined so noble a mind; and

exposed him to perpetual vexations, by the unaccountable whims they had

raised--Why are you not gone, said she, while I am in an humour not to

repent of the favour I have shown you?

You must excuse me, cousin, said Mr. Glanville, peevishly, if I do not

think so highly as you do of the favour. Pray how am I obliged to you

for depriving me of the pleasure of seeing you, and sending me on a

wild-goose chase, after occasions to justify myself of a crime I am

wholly innocent of, and would scorn to commit?

Though, resumed Arabella, with great calmness, I have reason to be

dissatisfied with the cool and unthankful manner in which you receive

my indulgence, yet I shall not change the favourable disposition

I am in towards you, unless you provoke me to it by new acts of

disobedience: therefore, in the language of Cleopatra, I shall tell

you----

Upon my soul, madam, interrupted Glanville, I have no patience with

that rigorous gipsy, whose example you follow so exactly, to my sorrow:

speak in your own language, I beseech you; for I am sure neither hers,

nor any one's upon earth, can excel it.

Yet, said Arabella, striving to repress some inclination to smile at

this sally, notwithstanding your unjust prohibitions, I shall make use

of the language of that incomparable lady, to tell you my thoughts;

which are, that it is possible you might be sufficiently justified in

my apprehensions, by the anxiety it now appears you had for my safety,

by the probability which I find in your discourse, and the good opinion

I have of you, were it not requisite to make your innocence apparent to

the world, that so it might be lawful for Arabella to readmit you, with

honour, into her former esteem and friendship.

Mr. Glanville, seeing that it would be in vain to attempt to make

her alter her fantastical determination at this time, went out of

the closet without deigning to make any reply to his sentence,

though delivered in the language of the admirable Cleopatra: but his

ill-humour was so visible in his face, that Arabella, who mistook it

for an excess of despair, could not help feeling some kind of pity

for the rigour which the laws of honour and romance obliged her to

use him with. And while she sat meditating upon the scene which had

just passed, Mr. Glanville returned to his own room, glad that his

sister, not being in Arabella's chamber, where he had left her, had no

opportunity of observing his discontent, which she would not fail to

enquire the cause of.

Here he sat, ruminating upon the follies of Arabella, which he found

grew more glaring every day: every thing furnished matter for some new

extravagance; her character was so ridiculous, that he could propose

nothing to himself but eternal shame and disquiet, in the possession of

a woman for whom he must always blush and be in pain. But her beauty

had made a deep impression on his heart: he admired the strength of

her understanding; her lively wit; the sweetness of her temper; and a

thousand amiable qualities which distinguished her from the rest of her

sex: her follies, when opposed to all those charms of mind and person,

seemed inconsiderable and weak; and though they were capable of giving

him great uneasiness, yet they could not lessen a passion which every

sight of her so much the more confirmed.

As he feared it was impossible to help loving her, his happiness

depended upon curing her of her romantic notions; and, though he knew

not how to effect such a change in her as was necessary to complete

it, yet he would not despair, but comforted himself with hopes of what

he had not courage to attempt. Sometimes he fancied company, and an

acquaintance with the world, would produce the alteration he wished:

yet he dreaded to see her exposed to ridicule by her fantastical

behaviour, and become the jest of persons who were not possessed of

half her understanding.

While he traversed his chamber, wholly engrossed by these reflections,

Miss Glanville was entertaining Sir George, of whose coming she was

informed while she was in Arabella's chamber.

Chapter IV.

_In which our heroine is greatly disappointed._

Miss Glanville, supposing her brother would be glad not to be

interrupted in his conference with Lady Bella, did not allow any one

to acquaint them with Sir George's visit; and telling the baronet her

cousin was indisposed, had by these means all his conversation to

herself.

Sir George, who ardently wished to see Lady Bella, protracted his

visit, in hopes that he should have that satisfaction before he went

away. And that fair lady, whose thoughts were a little discomposed by

the despair she apprehended Mr. Glanville was in, and fearful of the

consequences, when she had sat some time after he left her, ruminating

upon what had happened, quitted her closet, to go and enquire of Miss

Glanville in what condition his mind seemed to be when he went away;

for she never doubted but that he was gone, like Coriolanus, to seek

out for some occasion to manifest his innocence.

Hearing, therefore, the voice of that lady, who was talking and

laughing very loud in one of the summer parlours, and being terrified

with the apprehension that it was her brother with whom she was thus

diverting herself, she opened the door of the room precipitately; and

by her entrance, filled Sir George with extreme pleasure; while her

unexpected sight produced a quite contrary effect on Miss Glanville.

Arabella, eased of her fear that it was Mr. Glanville, who, instead of

dying with despair, was giving occasion for that noisy laugh of his

sister, saluted the baronet with great civility; and, turning to Miss

Glanville, I must needs chide you, said she, for the insensibility with

which it appears you have parted with your brother.

Bless me, madam, interrupted Miss Glanville, what do you mean? Whither

is my brother gone?

That, indeed, I am quite ignorant of, resumed Arabella; and I suppose

he himself hardly knows what course he shall take: but he has been with

you, doubtless, to take his leave.

Take his leave! repeated Miss Glanville: has he left the castle so

suddenly then, and gone away without me?

The enterprise upon which he is gone, said Arabella, would not admit

of a lady's company: and, since he has left so considerable an hostage

with me as yourself, I expect he will not be long before he return;

and, I hope, to the satisfaction of us both.

Miss Glanville, who could not penetrate into the meaning of her

cousin's words, began to be strangely alarmed: but presently supposing

she had a mind to divert herself with her fears, she recovered herself,

and told her she would go up to her brother's chamber, and look for him.

Arabella did not offer to prevent her, being very desirous of knowing

whether he had not left a letter for her upon his table, as was the

custom in those cases: and, while she was gone, Sir George seized the

opportunity of saying an hundred gallant things to her, which she

received with great indifference; the most extravagant compliments

being what she expected from all men: and provided they did not

directly presume to tell her they loved her, no sort of flattery or

adulation could displease her.

In the mean time, Miss Glanville having found her brother in his

chamber, repeated to him what Lady Bella had said, as she supposed, to

fright her.

Mr. Glanville, hearing this, and that Sir George was with her, hastened

to them as fast as possible, that he might interrupt the foolish

stories he did not doubt she was telling.

Upon Miss Glanville's appearance with her brother, Arabella was

astonished.

I apprehended, sir, said she, that you were some miles from the castle

by this time: but your delay and indifference convince me, you neither

expect nor wish to find the means of being justified in my opinion.

Pray, cousin, interrupted Glanville (speaking softly to her) let us

leave this dispute to some other time.

No, sir, resumed she, aloud; my honour is concerned in your

justification: nor is it fit I should submit to have the appearance of

amity for a person who has not yet sufficiently cleared himself of a

crime, with too much reason laid to his charge. Did Coriolanus, think

you, act in this manner? Ah! if he had, doubtless, Cleopatra would

never have pardoned him: nor will I any longer suffer you to give me

repeated causes of discontent.

Sir George, seeing confusion in Mr. Glanville's countenance, and rage

in Arabella's, began to think, that what he had at first taken for a

jest, was a serious quarrel between them, at which it was not proper he

should be present; and was preparing to go: when Arabella, stopping him

with a graceful action--

If, noble stranger, said she, you are so partial to the failings of a

friend, that you will undertake to defend any unjustifiable action he

may be guilty of, you are at liberty to depart: but if you will promise

to be an unprejudiced hearer of the dispute between Mr. Glanville and

myself, you shall know the adventure which has given rise to it; and

will be judge of the reasonableness of the commands I have laid on him.

Though, madam, said Sir George (bowing very low to her), Mr. Glanville

is my friend, yet there is no likelihood I shall espouse his interest

against yours: and a very strong prepossession I feel in favour of you,

already persuades me that I shall give sentence on your side, since you

have honoured me so far as to constitute me judge of this difference.

The solemn manner in which Sir George (who began to suspect Lady

Bella's peculiar turn) spoke this, pleased her infinitely; while

Mr. Glanville, vexed as he was, could hardly forbear laughing: when

Arabella, after a look of approbation to Sir George, replied--

I find I have unwillingly engaged myself to more than I first intended:

for, to enable you to judge clearly of the matter in dispute, it is

necessary you should know my whole history.

Mr. Glanville, at this word, not being able to constrain himself,

uttered a groan of the same nature with those which are often heard in

the pit at the representation of a new play. Sir George understood him

perfectly well; yet seemed surprised: and Arabella, starting up--

Since, said she, I have given you no new cause of complaint, pray, from

whence proceeds this increase of affliction?

I assure you, cousin, answered he, my affliction, if you please to term

it so, increases every day; and I believe it will make me mad at last:

for this unaccountable humour of yours is not to be borne.

You do not seem, replied Arabella, to be far from madness already:

and if your friend here, upon hearing the passages between us, should

pronounce you guilty, I shall be at a loss whether I ought to treat

you as a madman or a criminal. Sir, added she, turning to Sir George,

you will excuse me, if, for certain reasons, I can neither give you

my history myself, nor be present at the relation of it. One of my

women, who is most in my confidence, shall acquaint you with all the

particulars of my life: after which I expect Mr. Glanville will abide

by your decision, as, I assure myself, I shall be contented to do.

Saying this, she went out of the parlour, in order to prepare Lucy for

the recital she was to make.

Mr. Glanville, resolving not to be present at this new absurdity, ran

out after her; and went into the garden, with a strong inclination

to hate the lovely visionary who gave him such perpetual uneasiness;

leaving his sister alone with the baronet, who diverted herself

extremely with the thoughts of hearing her cousin's history; assuring

the baronet, that he might expect something very curious in it, and

find matter sufficient to laugh at; for she was the most whimsical

woman in the world.

Sir George, who resolved to profit by the knowledge of her foible, made

very little reply to Miss Glanville's sneers; but waited patiently for

the promised history, which was much longer coming than he imagined.

Chapter V.

_Some curious instructions for relating an history._

Arabella, as soon as she left them, went up to her apartment; and

calling Lucy into her closet, told her that she had made choice of her,

since she was best acquainted with her thoughts, to relate her history

to her cousins, and a person of quality who was with them.

Sure your ladyship jests with me, said Lucy: how can I make a history

about your ladyship?

There is no occasion, replied Arabella, for you to make a history:

there are accidents enough in my life to afford matter for a long

one: all you have to do is to relate them as exactly as possible. You

have lived with me from my childhood, and are instructed in all my

adventures; so that you must be certainly very capable of executing the

task I have honoured you with.

Indeed, said Lucy, I must beg your ladyship will excuse me. I never

could tell how to repeat a story when I have read it; and I know it

is not such simple girls as I can tell histories: it is only fit for

clerks, and such sort of people, that are very learned.

You are learned enough for that purpose, said Arabella; and if you

make so much difficulty in performing this part of your duty, pray how

came you to imagine you were fit for my service, and the distinction

I have favoured you with? Did you ever hear of any woman that refused

to relate her lady's story, when desired? Therefore, if you hope to

possess my favour and confidence any longer, acquit yourself handsomely

of this task, to which I have preferred you.

Lucy, terrified at the displeasure she saw in her lady's countenance,

begged her to tell her what she must say.

Well! exclaimed Arabella: I am certainly the most unfortunate woman

in the world! Every thing happens to me in a contrary manner from any

other person! Here, instead of my desiring you to soften those parts of

my history where you have greatest room to flatter; and to conceal, if

possible, some of those disorders my beauty has occasioned; you ask me

to tell you what you must say; as if it was not necessary you should

know as well as myself, and be able not only to recount all my words

and actions, even the smallest and most inconsiderable, but also all

my thoughts, however instantaneous; relate exactly every change of my

countenance; number all my smiles, half-smiles, blushes, turnings pale,

glances, pauses, full-stops, interruptions; the rise and falling of my

voice; every motion of my eyes; and every gesture which I have used for

these ten years past; nor omit the smallest circumstance that relates

to me.

Lord bless me, madam! said Lucy, excessively astonished: I never, till

this moment, it seems, knew the hundredth thousandth part of what was

expected from me. I am sure, if I had, I would never have gone to

service; for I might well know I was not fit for such slavery.

There is no such great slavery in doing all I have mentioned to you,

interrupted Arabella: it requires, indeed, a good memory, in which

I never thought you deficient; for you are punctual to the greatest

degree of exactness in recounting every thing one desires to hear from

you.

Lucy, whom this praise soothed into good humour, and flattered with a

belief that she was able, with a little instruction, to perform what

her lady required, told her if she pleased only to put her in a way how

to tell her history, she would engage, after doing it once, to tell it

again whenever she was desired.

Arabella, being obliged to comply with the odd request, for which there

was no precedent in all the romances her library was stuffed with,

began to inform her in this manner:

First, said she, you must relate my birth, which you know is very

illustrious; and because I am willing to spare you the trouble of

repeating things that are not absolutely necessary, you must apologize

to your hearers for slipping over what passed in my infancy, and the

first eight or ten years of my life; not failing, however, to remark,

that, from some sprightly sallies of imagination, at those early years,

those about me conceived marvellous hopes of my future understanding:

from thence you must proceed to an accurate description of my person.

What, madam! interrupted Lucy, must I tell what sort of person you

have, to people who have seen you but a moment ago?

Questionless you must, replied Arabella; and herein you follow the

examples of all the squires and maids who relate their masters' and

ladies' histories: for though it be to a brother, or near relation, who

has seen them a thousand times, yet they never omit an exact account of

their persons.

Very well, madam, said Lucy: I shall be sure not to forget that part of

my story. I wish I was as perfect in all the rest.

Then, Lucy, you must repeat all the conversations I have ever held

with you upon the subjects of love and gallantry, that your audience

may be so well acquainted with my humour, as to know exactly, before

they are told, how I shall behave, in whatever adventures befall

me.--After that, you may proceed to tell them how a noble unknown saw

me at church; how prodigiously he was struck with my appearance; the

tumultuous thoughts that this first view of me occasioned in his mind.--

Indeed, madam, interrupted Lucy again, I can't pretend to tell his

thoughts: for how should I know what they were? None but himself can

tell that.

However that may be, said Arabella, I expect you should decypher all

his thoughts as plainly as he himself could do; otherwise my history

will be very imperfect. Well, I suppose you are at no loss about that

whole adventure, in which you yourself bore so great a share; so I

need not give you any further instructions concerning it: only you

must be sure, as I said before, not to omit the least circumstance in

my behaviour, but relate every thing I did, said, and thought, upon

that occasion. The disguised gardener must appear next in your story:

here you will of necessity be a little deficient, since you are not

able to acquaint your hearers with his true name and quality; which,

questionless, is very illustrious. However, above all, I must charge

you not to mention that egregious mistake about the carp; for you know

how--

Here Miss Glanville's entrance put a stop to the instructions Lucy was

receiving: for she told Arabella that Sir George was gone.

How! returned she, is he gone? Truly I am not much obliged to him for

the indifference he has showed to hear my story.

Why, really, madam, said Miss Glanville, neither of us expected you

would be as good as your word, you were so long in sending your woman

down: and my brother persuaded Sir George you were only in jest; and

Sir George has carried him home to dinner.

And is it at Sir George's, replied Arabella, that your brother hopes to

meet with an occasion of clearing himself? He is either very insensible

of my anger, or very conscious of his own innocence.

Miss Glanville, having nothing to say in answer to an accusation she

did not understand, changed the discourse: and the two ladies passed

the rest of the day together, with tolerable good humour on Miss

Glanville's side; who was in great hopes of making a conquest of the

baronet, before whom Arabella had made herself ridiculous enough.

But that lady was far from being at ease; she had laid herself under

a necessity of banishing Mr. Glanville, if he did not give some

convincing proof of his innocence; which, as matters stood, she thought

would be very hard for him to procure; and, as she could not absolutely

believe him guilty, she was concerned she had gone so far.

Chapter VI.

_A very heroic chapter._

Mr. Glanville, coming home in the evening, a little elevated with the

wine of which he had drank too freely at Sir George's, being told the

ladies were together, entered the room where they were sitting; and,

beholding Arabella, whose pensiveness had given an enchanting softness

to her face, with a look of extreme admiration--

Upon my soul, cousin, said he, if you continue to treat me so cruelly,

you'll drive me mad. How I could adore you this moment, added he,

gazing passionately at her, if I might but hope you did not hate me!

Arabella, who did not perceive the condition he was in, was better

pleased with this address than any he had ever used; and, therefore,

instead of chiding him as she was wont, for the freedom of his

expressions, she cast her bright eyes upon the ground with so charming

a confusion, that Glanville, quite transported, threw himself on his

knees before her; and, taking her hand, attempted to press it to his

lips: but she, hastily withdrawing it--

From whence is this new boldness? said she. And what is it you would

implore by that prostrate posture? I have told you already upon what

conditions I will grant you my pardon. Clear yourself of being an

accomplice with my designed ravisher, and I am ready to restore you to

my esteem.

Let me perish, madam, returned Glanville, if I would not die to please

you, this moment!

It is not your death that I require, said she: and though you should

never be able to justify yourself in my opinion, yet you might, haply,

expiate your crime, by a less punishment than death.

What shall I do, then, my angelic cousin? resumed he.

Truly, said she, the sense of your offence ought so mortally to afflict

you, that you should invent some strange kind of penance for yourself,

severe enough to prove your penitence sincere.--You know, I suppose,

what the unfortunate Orontes did, when he found he had wronged his

adored Thalestris by an injurious suspicion.

I wish he had hanged himself! said Mr. Glanville, rising up in a

passion, at seeing her again in her altitudes.

And why, pray, sir, said Arabella, are you so severe upon that poor

prince; who was, haply, infinitely more innocent than yourself?

Severe, madam! said Glanville, fearing he had offended her: why, to be

sure, he was a sad scoundrel to use his adored Thalestris as he did:

and I think one cannot be too severe upon him.

But, returned Arabella, appearances were against her; and he had some

shadow of reason for his jealousy and rage: then, you know, amidst

all his transports, he could not be prevailed upon to draw his sword

against her.

What did that signify? said Glanville: I suppose he scorned to draw his

sword upon a woman: that would have been a shame indeed.

That woman, sir, resumed Arabella, was not such a contemptible

antagonist as you think her: and men, as valiant, possibly, as Orontes

(though, questionless, he was one of the most valiant men in the world)

have been cut in pieces by the sword of that brave Amazon.

Lord bless me! said Miss Glanville, I should be afraid to look at

such a terrible woman: I am sure she must be a very masculine sort of

creature.

You are much mistaken, miss, said Arabella: for Thalestris, though the

most stout and courageous of her sex, was, nevertheless, a perfect

beauty; and had as much harmony and softness in her looks and person,

as she had courage in her heart, and strength in her blows.

Indeed, madam, returned Miss Glanville, you can never persuade me, that

a woman who can fight, and cut people to pieces with her blows, can

have any softness in her person: she must needs have very masculine

hands, that could give such terrible blows: and I can have no notion of

the harmony of a person's looks, who, by what you say, must have the

heart of a tiger. But, indeed, I don't think there ever could be such a

woman.

What, miss! interrupted Arabella: do you pretend to doubt that there

ever was such a person as Thalestris, queen of the Amazons? Does

not all the world know the adventures of that illustrious princess;

her affection for the unjust Orontes, who accused her of having a

scandalous intrigue with Alexander, whom she went to meet with a very

different design, upon the borders of her kingdom? The injurious letter

he wrote her, upon this suspicion, made her resolve to seek for him all

over the world, to give him that death he had merited, by her own hand:

and it was in those rencounters that he had with her, while she was

thus incensed, that he forbore to defend himself against her, though

her sword was often pointed to his breast.

But, madam, interrupted Mr. Glanville, pray what became of this queen

of the Amazons? Was she not killed at the siege of Troy?--She never was

at the siege of Troy, returned Arabella: but she assisted the princes

who besieged Babylon, to recover the liberty of Statira and Parisatis:

and it was in the opposite party that she met with her faithless lover.

If he was faithless, madam, said Mr. Glanville, he deserved to die: and

I wish, with all my soul, she had cut him in pieces with that famous

sword of hers that had done such wonders.

Yet this faithless man, resumed Arabella, whom you seem to have

such an aversion to, gave so glorious a proof of his repentance and

sorrow, that the fair queen restored him to her favour, and held

him in much dearer affection than ever: for, after he was convinced

of her innocence, he was resolved to punish himself with a rigour

equal to the fault he had been guilty of; and, retiring to the woods,

abandoned for ever the society of men; dwelling in a cave, and living

upon bitter herbs, passing the days and nights in continual tears and

sorrow for his crime. And here he proposed to end his life, had not the

fair Thalestris found him out in this solitude; and, struck with the

sincerity of his repentance, pardoned him; and, as I have said before,

restored him to her favour.

And to show you, said Glanville, that I am capable of doing as much

for you, I will, if you insist upon it, seek out for some cave, and do

penance in it, like that Orontes, provided you will come and fetch me

out of it, as that same fair queen did him.

I do not require so much of you, said Arabella; for I told you before,

that, haply, you are justified already in my opinion; but yet it is

necessary you should find out some method of convincing the world of

your innocence; otherwise it is not fit I should live with you upon

terms of friendship and civility.

Well, well, madam, said Glanville, I'll convince you of my innocence,

by bringing that rascal's head to you, whom you suspect I was inclined

to assist in stealing you away.

If you do that, resumed Arabella, doubtless you will be justified in my

opinion, and the world's also; and I shall have no scruple to treat you

with as much friendship as I did before.

My brother is much obliged to you, madam, interrupted Miss Glanville,

for putting him upon an action that would cost him his life!

I have so good an opinion of your brother's valour, said Arabella, that

I am persuaded he will find no difficulty in performing his promise;

and I make no question but I shall see him covered with the spoils of

that impostor, who would have betrayed me; and I flatter myself, he

will be in a condition to bring me his head, as he bravely promises,

without endangering his own life.

Does your ladyship consider, said Miss Glanville, that my brother can

take away no person's life whatever, without endangering his own?

I consider, madam, said Arabella, your brother as a man possessed of

virtue and courage enough to undertake to kill all my enemies and

persecutors, though I had ever so many; and I presume he would be able

to perform as many glorious actions for my service, as either Juba,

Cæsario, Artamenes, or Artaban, who, though not a prince, was greater

than any of them.

If those persons you have named, said Miss Glanville, were murderers,

and made a practice of killing people, I hope my brother will be too

wise to follow their examples: a strange kind of virtue and courage

indeed, to take away the lives of one's fellow-creatures! How did such

wretches escape the gallows, I wonder?

I perceive, interrupted Arabella, what kind of apprehensions you have:

I suppose you think, if your brother was to kill my enemy, the law

would punish him for it: but pray undeceive yourself, miss. The law

has no power over heroes; they may kill as many men as they please,

without being called to any account for it; and the more lives they

take away, the greater is their reputation for virtue and glory. The

illustrious Artaban, from the condition of a private man, raised

himself to the sublimest pitch of glory by his valour; for he not only

would win half a dozen battles in a day; but, to show that victory

followed him wherever he went, he would change parties, and immediately

the vanquished became conquerors; then, returning to the side he had

quitted, changed the laurels of his former friends into chains. He

made nothing of tumbling kings from their thrones, and giving away

half a dozen crowns in a morning; for his generosity was equal to his

courage; and to this height of power did he raise himself by his sword.

Beginning at first with petty conquests, and not disdaining to oppose

his glorious arm to sometimes less than a score of his enemies; so, by

degrees, inuring himself to conquer inconsiderable numbers, he came at

last to be the terror of whole armies, who would fly at the sight of

his single sword.

This is all very astonishing indeed, said Miss Glanville. However,

I must entreat you not to insist upon my brother's quarrelling and

fighting with people, since it will be neither for your honour nor his

safety; for I am afraid, if he was to commit murder to please you, the

laws would make him suffer for it; and the world would be very free

with its censures on your ladyship's reputation, for putting him upon

such shocking crimes.

By your discourse, miss, replied Arabella, one would imagine you knew

as little in what the good reputation of a lady consists, as the safety

of a man; for certainly the one depends entirely upon his sword, and

the other upon the noise and bustle she makes in the world. The blood

that is shed for a lady enhances the value of her charms; and the more

men a hero kills, the greater his glory; and, by consequence, the more

secure he is. If to be the cause of a great many deaths can make a lady

infamous, certainly none were ever more so than Mandana, Cleopatra, and

Statira, the most illustrious names in antiquity; for each of whom,

haply, an hundred thousand men were killed: yet none were ever so

unjust as to profane the virtue of those divine beauties, by casting

any censures upon them for these glorious effects of their charms, and

the heroic valour of their admirers.

I must confess, interrupted Miss Glanville, I should not be sorry to

have a duel or two fought for me in Hyde-Park; but then I would not

have any blood shed for the world.

Glanville here interrupting his sister with a laugh, Arabella also

could not forbear smiling at the harmless kind of combats her cousin

was fond of.

But to put an end to the conversation, and the dispute which gave rise

to it, she obliged Mr. Glanville to promise to fight with the impostor

Edward, whenever he found him; and either take away his life, or force

him to confess he had no part in the design he had meditated against

her.

This being agreed upon, Arabella, conducting Miss Glanville to her

chamber, retired to her own; and passed the night with much greater

tranquillity, than she had done the preceding; being satisfied with

the care she had taken of her own glory, and persuaded that Glanville

was not unfaithful--a circumstance that was of more consequence to her

happiness than she was yet aware of.

Chapter VII.

_In which our heroine is suspected of insensibility._

While these things passed at the castle, Sir George was meditating on

the means he should use to acquire the esteem of Lady Bella, of whose

person he was a little enamoured, but of her fortune a great deal more.

By the observations he had made on her behaviour, he discovered her

peculiar turn: he was well read in romances himself, and had actually

employed himself some weeks in giving a new version of the Grand Cyrus;

but the prodigious length of the task he had undertaken terrified him

so much that he gave it over: nevertheless, he was perfectly well

acquainted with the chief characters in most of the French romances;

could tell every thing that was borrowed from them in all the new

novels that came out; and, being a very accurate critic, and a mortal

hater of Dryden, ridiculed him for want of invention, as it appeared

by his having recourse to these books for the most shining characters

and incidents in his plays. Almanzor, he would say, was the copy of the

famous Artaban in Cleopatra, whose exploits Arabella had expatiated

upon to Miss Glanville, and her brother: his admired character of

Melantha in Marriage A-la-mode, was drawn from Berissa in the Grand

Cyrus; and the story of Osmyn and Bensayda, in his Conquest of Granada,

taken from Sesostris and Timerilla in that romance.

Fraught therefore with the knowledge of all the extravagances and

peculiarities in those books, he resolved to make his addresses to

Arabella in the form they prescribed; and, not having delicacy enough

to be disgusted with the ridicule in her character, served himself with

her foible, to effect his designs.

It being necessary, in order to his better acquaintance with Arabella,

to be upon very friendly terms with Miss Glanville and her brother, he

said a thousand gallant things to one, and seemed so little offended

with the gloom he observed upon the countenance of the other, who

positively assured him, that Arabella meant only to laugh at him, when

she promised him her history, that he entreated him, with the most

obliging earnestness, to favour him with his company at his house,

where he omitted no sort of civility, to confirm their friendship and

intimacy; and persuaded him, by several little and seemingly unguarded

expressions, that he was not so great an admirer of Lady Bella, as her

agreeable cousin Miss Glanville.

Having thus secured a footing in the castle, he furnished his memory

with all the necessary rules of making love in Arabella's taste, and

deferred his next visit no longer than till the following day; but

Mr. Glanville being indisposed, and not able to see company, he knew

it would be in vain to expect to see Arabella, since it was not to be

imagined Miss Glanville could admit of a visit, her brother being ill;

and Lady Bella must be also necessarily engaged with her.

Contenting himself, therefore, with having enquired after the health

of the two ladies, he returned home, not a little vexed at his

disappointment.

Mr. Glanville's indisposition increasing every day, grew at last

dangerous enough to fill his sister with extreme apprehensions.

Arabella, keeping up to her forms, sent regularly every day to enquire

after his health; but did not offer to go into his chamber, though Miss

Glanville was almost always there.

As she conceived his sickness to be occasioned by the violence of his

passion for her, she expected some overture should be made her by his

sister, to engage her to make him a visit; such a favour being never

granted by any lady to a sick lover, till she was previously informed

her presence was necessary to hinder the increase of his distemper.

Miss Glanville would not have failed to represent to her cousin the

incivility and carelessness of her behaviour, in not deigning to come

and see her brother in his indisposition, had not Mr. Glanville,

imputing this neglect to the nicety of her notions, which he had upon

other occasions experienced, absolutely forbid her to say any thing to

her cousin upon this subject.

Miss Glanville being thus forced to silence, by the fear of giving her

brother uneasiness, Arabella was extremely disappointed to find, that,

in five days illness, no application had been made to her, either by

the sick lover, or his sister, who she thought interested herself too

little in his recovery; so that her glory obliging her to lay some

constraint upon herself, she behaved with a coolness and insensibility

that increased Miss Glanville's aversion to her, while, in reality, she

was extremely concerned for her cousin's illness; but not supposing

it dangerous, since they had not recourse to the usual remedy, of

beseeching a visit from the person whose presence was alone able to

work a cure, she resolved to wait patiently the event.

However, she never failed in her respect to Miss Glanville, whom

she visited every morning before she went to her brother; and also

constantly dined with her in her own apartment, enquiring always, with

great sweetness, concerning her brother's health; when perceiving her

in tears one day, as she came in, as usual, to dine with her, she was

extremely alarmed; and asked with great precipitation if Mr. Glanville

was worse.

He is so bad, madam, returned Miss Glanville, that I believe it will be

necessary to send for my papa, for fear he should die, and he not see

him.

Die, miss! interrupted Arabella eagerly: No, he must not die; and shall

not, if the pity of Arabella is powerful enough to make him live. Let

us go then, cousin, said she, her eyes streaming with tears; let us go

and visit this dear brother, whom you lament: haply the sight of me may

repair the evils my rigour has caused him; and since, as I imagine, he

has forborne, through the profound respect he has for me, to request

the favour of a visit, I will voluntarily bestow it on him, as well for

the affection I bear you, as because I do not wish his death.

You do not wish his death, madam! said Miss Glanville, excessively

angry at a speech, in her opinion, extremely insolent. Is it such a

mighty favour, pray, not to wish the death of my brother, who never

injured you? I am sure, your behaviour has been so extremely inhuman,

that I have repented a thousand times we ever came to the castle.

Let us not waste the time in idle reproaches, said Arabella. If my

rigour has brought your brother into this condition, my compassion

can draw him out of it: it is no more than what all do suffer, who

are possessed of a violent passion; and few lovers ever arrive to the

possession of their mistresses, without being several times brought

almost to their graves, either by their severity or some other cause.

But nothing is more easy than to work a cure in these cases; for the

very sight of the person beloved sometimes does it, as it happened

to Artamenes, when the divine Mandana condescended to visit him: a

few kind words, spoken by the fair princess of Persia to Oroondates,

recalled him from the gates of death; and one line from Parisatis's

hand, which brought a command to Lysimachus to live, made him not only

resolve, but even able, to obey her.--

Miss Glanville, quite out of patience at this tedious harangue, without

any regard to ceremony, flounced out of the room; and ran to her

brother's chamber, followed by Arabella, who imputed her rude haste to

a suspicion that her brother was worse.

Chapter VIII.

_In which we hope the reader will be differently affected._

At their entrance into the room, Miss Glanville enquired of the

physician, just going out, how he found her brother? Who replied, that

his fever was increased since last night, and that it would not (seeing

Arabella preparing to go to his bed-side) be proper to disturb him.

Saying this, he bowed, and went out; and Miss Glanville, repeating

what the physician had said, begged her to defer speaking to him till

another time.

I know, said she, that he apprehends the sight of me will cause so many

tumultuous motions in the soul of his patient, as may prove prejudicial

to him: nevertheless, since his disorder is, questionless, more in his

mind than body, I may prove, haply, a better physician than he; since I

am more likely than he, to cure an illness I have caused--

Saying this, she walked up to Mr. Glanville's bed-side, who, seeing

her, thanked her in a weak voice, for coming to see him; assuring her,

he was very sensible of the favour she did him--

You must not, said she, blushing, thank me too much, lest I think the

favour I have done you is really of more consequence than I imagined,

since it merits so many acknowledgments. Your physician tells us,

pursued she, that your life is in danger; but I persuade myself you

will value it so much from this moment, that you will not protract your

cure any longer.

Are you mad, madam, whispered Miss Glanville, who stood behind her, to

tell my brother that the physician says he is in danger? I suppose you

really wish he may die, or you would not talk so.

If, answered she, whispering again to Miss Glanville, you are not

satisfied with what I have already done for your brother, I will go as

far as modesty will permit me: and gently pulling open the curtains--

Glanville, said she, with a voice too much raised for a sick person's

ear, I grant to your sister's solicitations, what the fair Statira

did to an interest yet more powerful; since, as you know it was her

own brother, who pleaded in favour of the dying Orontes: therefore,

considering you in a condition haply no less dangerous than that of

that passionate prince, I condescend, like her, to tell you that I do

not wish your death; that I entreat you to live; and, lastly, by all

the power I have over you, I command you to recover.

Ending these words, she closed the curtain, that her transported lover

might not see her blushes and confusion, which were so great, that,

to conceal them, even from Miss Glanville, she hurried out of the

room, and retired to her own apartment, expecting in a little time,

to receive a billet, under the sick man's hand, importing, that in

obedience to her commands, he was recovered, and ready to throw himself

at her feet, to thank her for that life she had bestowed upon him, and

to dedicate the remains of it to her service.

Miss Glanville, who stayed behind her in a strange surprise at her

ridiculous behaviour, though she longed to know what her brother

thought of it, finding he continued silent, would not disturb him.

The shame he conceived at hearing so absurd a speech from a woman he

passionately loved; and the desire he had, not to hear his sister's

sentiments upon it; made him counterfeit sleep, to avoid any discourse

with her upon so disagreeable a subject.

That day his fever increased; and the next, the physician pronouncing

him in great danger, a messenger was dispatched to town, to hasten the

coming of Sir Charles; and poor Miss Glanville was quite inconsolable

under the apprehensions of losing him.

Arabella, not to derogate from her character, affected great firmness

of mind upon this occasion; she used the most persuasive eloquence to

moderate her cousin's affliction, and caused all imaginable care to be

taken of Mr. Glanville. While any one was present, her looks discovered

only a calm and decent sorrow; yet when she was alone, or had only her

dear Lucy with her, she gave free vent to her tears; and discovered a

grief for Mr. Glanville's illness little different from that she had

felt for her father's.

As she now visited him constantly every day, she took an opportunity,

when she was alone by his bed-side, to chide him for his disobedience,

in not recovering, as she had commanded him.

Dear cousin, answered he, faintly, can you imagine health is not my

choice? And do you think I would suffer these pains if I could possibly

ease myself of them?

Those pains, replied Arabella, mistaking his complaint, ought to have

ceased when the cause of them did; and when I was no longer rigorous,

you ought no longer to have suffered. But tell me, since you are,

questionless, one of the strangest men in the world, and the hardest to

be comforted; nay, and I may add, the most disobedient of all that ever

wore the fetters of love; tell me, I say, what must I do to content you?

If I live, cousin, said Glanville--

Nay, interrupted Arabella, since my empire over you is not so absolute

as I thought; and since you think fit to reserve to yourself the

liberty of dying, contrary to my desire; I think I had better resolve

not to make any treaty with you. However, as I have gone thus far, I

will do something more; and tell you, since I have commanded you to

live, I will also permit you to love me, in order to make the life I

have bestowed on you, worthy your acceptance. Make me no reply, said

she, putting her hand on his mouth; but begin from this moment to obey

me.

Saying this, she went out of the room--

A few hours after, his fever being come to a height, he grew delirious,

and talked very wildly; but a favourable crisis ensuing, he fell into a

sound and quiet sleep, and continued in it for several hours: upon his

waking, the physician declared his fever was greatly abated, and the

next morning pronounced him out of danger--

Miss Glanville, transported with joy, ran to Lady Bella, and informed

her of this good news; but as she did not make her the acknowledgments

she expected, for being the cause of his recovery, she behaved with

more reserve than Miss Glanville thought was necessary: which renewed

her former disgusts; yet, dreading to displease her brother, she

concealed it from the observation of her cousin----

Arabella, being desirous of completing her lover's cure by some more

favourable expressions, went to his chamber, accompanied by Miss

Glanville.

I see, said she, approaching to his bed-side, with an enchanting smile,

that you know how to be obedient, when you please; and I begin to know,

by the price you set upon your obedience, that small favours will not

content you.

Indeed, my dearest cousin, said Glanville, who had found her more

interested in his recovery than he expected, you have been very

obliging, and I will always most gratefully own it.

I am glad, interrupted Arabella, that gratitude is not banished from

all your family; and that that person in it for whom I have the most

sensibility is not entirely divested of it--

I hope, said Mr. Glanville, my sister has given you no cause to

complain of her.

Indeed but she has, replied Arabella; for, notwithstanding she is

obliged to me for the life of a brother, whom questionless she loves

very well; nevertheless, she did not deign to make me the least

acknowledgment for what I have done in your favour. However, Glanville,

provided you continue to observe that respect and fidelity towards

me, which I have reason to hope for from you, your condition shall be

never the worse for Miss Glanville's unacknowledging temper; and I

now confirm the grant I yesterday made you, and repeat it again; that

I permit you to love me, and promise you not to be displeased at any

testimonies you will give me of your passion, provided you serve me

with an inviolable fidelity.

But, madam, returned Mr. Glanville, to make my happiness complete, you

must also promise to love me; or else what signifies the permission you

give me to love you?

You are almost as unacknowledging as your sister, resumed Arabella,

blushing; and if your health was perfectly re-established,

questionless, I should chide you for your presumption; but since

something must be allowed to sick persons, whose reason, one may

suppose, is weakened by their indisposition, I will pardon your

indiscretion at this time, and counsel you to wait patiently for what

Heaven will determine in your favour. Therefore endeavour to merit my

affection by your respect, fidelity, and services; and hope from my

justice whatever it ought to bestow--

Ending this speech with a solemnity of accent that gave Mr. Glanville

to understand any reply would offend her, he silently kissed her fair

hand, which she held out to him; a favour, his sickness, and the terms

upon which they now were, gave him a right to expect--and, finishing

her visit for that time, left him to his repose; being extremely

pleased at the prospect of his recovery, and very well satisfied

at having so gracefully got over so great a difficulty, as that of

giving him permission to love her: for by the laws of romance, when

a lady has once given her lover that permission, she may lawfully

allow him to talk to her upon the subject of his passion, accept all

his gallantries, and claim an absolute empire over all his actions;

reserving to herself the right of fixing the time when she may own her

affection: and when that important step is taken, and his constancy

put to a few years more trial; when he has killed all his rivals, and

rescued her from a thousand dangers; she at last condescends to reward

him with her hand; and all her adventures are at an end for the future.

BOOK IV.

Chapter I.

_In which our heroine discovers her knowledge in astronomy._

Sir George, who had never missed a day, during Mr. Glanville's illness,

in sending to the castle, now he was able to see company, visited him

very frequently; and sometimes had the happiness to meet with Arabella

in his chamber; but knowing the conditions of her father's will, and

Mr. Glanville's pretensions, he was obliged to lay so much constraint

upon himself, in the presence of Miss Glanville, and her brother, that

he hardly durst trust his eyes, to express his admiration of her, for

fear of alarming them with any suspicion of his designs. However, he

did not fail to recommend himself to her esteem, by a behaviour to her

full of the most perfect respect; and very often, ere he was aware,

uttered some of the extravagant compliments that the gallants in the

French romances use to their mistresses.

If he walked with her in the gardens, he would observe that the

flowers, which were before languishing and pale, bloomed with fresh

beauty at her approach; that the sun shone out with double brightness,

to exceed if possible, the lustre of her eyes; and that the wind, fond

of kissing her celestial countenance, played with her fair hair; and,

by gentle murmurs, declared its happiness--

If Miss Glanville happened to be present, when he talked to her in this

strain, she would suppose he was ridiculing her cousin's fantastical

turn; and when she had an opportunity of speaking to him alone, would

chide him with a great deal of good humour, for giving her so much

diversion at her cousin's expense.

Sir George, improving this hint, persuaded Miss Glanville by his

answers, that he really laughed at Arabella; and, being now less

fearful of giving any suspicion to the gay coquette, since she assisted

him to deceive her, he applied himself with more assiduity than ever,

to insinuate himself into Arabella's favour.

However, the necessity he was under of being always of Arabella's

opinion sometimes drew him into little difficulties with Miss

Glanville. Knowing that young lady was extremely fond of scandal, he

told her, as a most agreeable piece of news, one afternoon when he

was there, that he had seen Miss Groves, who, he supposed, had come

into the country upon the same account as she had done a twelve-month

before. Her marriage being yet a secret, the complaisant baronet threw

out an hint or two concerning the familiarity and correspondence there

was between her and the gentleman to whom she was really secretly

married.

Miss Glanville, making the most of this intelligence, said a thousand

severe things against the unfortunate Miss Groves; which Arabella,

always benevolent and kind, could not bear.

I persuade myself, said she to her cousin, that you have been

misinformed concerning this beauty, whose misfortunes you aggravate by

your cruel censures; and whoever has given you the history of her life,

has, haply, done it with great injustice--

Why, madam, interrupted Miss Glanville, do you think you are better

acquainted with her history, as you call it, who have never been in

town, where her follies made her so remarkable, than persons who were

eye-witnesses of all her ridiculous actions?

I apprehend, said Arabella, that I who have had a relation made to me

of all the passages of her life, and have been told all her most secret

thoughts, may know as much, if not more, than persons who have lived in

the same place with her, and have not had that advantage; and I think I

know enough to vindicate her from many cruel aspersions.

Pray, madam, returned Miss Glanville, will your ladyship pretend to

defend her scandalous commerce with Mr. L----?

I know not, miss, said Arabella, why you call her intercourse with

that perjured man by so unjust an epithet. If Miss Groves be unchaste,

so was the renowned Cleopatra, whose marriage with Julius Cæsar is

controverted to this day.

And what reasons, madam, said Miss Glanville, have you for supposing

Miss Groves was married to Mr. L----, since all the world knows to the

contrary?

Very sufficient ones, said Arabella; since it is hardly possible to

suppose a young lady of Miss Groves's quality would stain the lustre

of her descent by so shameful an intrigue; and also since there are

examples enough to be found of persons who suffered under the same

unhappy circumstances as herself; yet were perfectly innocent, as was

that great queen I have mentioned; who questionless, you, sir, are

sufficiently convinced, was married to that illustrious conqueror; who,

by betraying so great and so fair a queen, in great measure tarnished

the glory of his laurels--

Married, madam! replied Sir George. Who presumes to say, that fair

queen was not married to that illustrious conqueror?

Nay, you know, sir, interrupted Arabella, many people did say, even

while she was living, that she was not married; and have branded her

memory with infamous calumnies, upon account of the son she had by

Cæsar, the brave Cæsario, who, under the name of Cleomedon, performed

such miracles of valour in Ethiopia.

I assure you, madam, said Sir George, I was always a great admirer of

the famous Cleomedon, who was certainly the greatest hero in the world.

Pardon me, sir, said Arabella; Cleomedon was, questionless, a very

valiant man; but he, and all the heroes that ever were, must give place

to the unequalled prince of Mauritania; that illustrious, and for a

long time unfortunate, lover of the divine Cleopatra, who was daughter,

as you questionless know, of the great queen we have been speaking of--

Dear heart! said Miss Glanville, what is all this to the purpose? I

would fain know, whether Sir George believes Miss Groves was ever

married to Mr. L----.

Doubtless, I do, said he; for, as Lady Bella says, she is in the same

unhappy circumstance with the great Cleopatra; and if Julius Cæsar

could be guilty of denying his marriage with that queen, I see no

reason to suppose, why Mr. L---- might not be guilty of the same kind

of injustice.

So then, interrupted Miss Glanville, reddening with spite, you will

really offer to maintain, that Miss Groves was married? Ridiculous! How

such a report would be laughed at in London!

I assure you, replied Arabella, if ever I go to London, I shall not

scruple to maintain that opinion to every one, who will mention that

fair-one to me; and use all my endeavours to confirm them in it.

Your ladyship would do well, said Miss Glanville, to persuade people,

that Miss Groves, at fifteen, did not want to run away with her

writing-master.

As I am persuaded myself, said Arabella, that writing-master was some

noble stranger in disguise, who was passionately in love with her, I

shall not suffer any body in my hearing to propagate such an unlikely

story; but since he was a person worthy of her affection, if she had

run away with him, her fault was not without example, or even excuse.

You know what the fair Artemisa did for Alexander, sir, pursued she,

turning to Sir George: I would fain know your sentiments upon the

action of that princess, which some have not scrupled to condemn--

Whoever they are, Madam, said Sir George, who condemn the fair Artemisa

for what she did for Alexander, are miscreants and slanderers; and

though that beautiful princess has been dead more than two thousand

years, I would draw my sword in defence of her character, against all

who should presume, in my presence, to cast any censures upon it.

Since you are so courageous, said Miss Glanville, laughing excessively

at this sally, which she thought was to ridicule her cousin; it is to

be hoped you will defend a living lady's character, who may thank you

for it; and make the world believe that her correspondence with Mr.

L---- was entirely innocent; and that she never had any design to run

away with her writing-master.

Are you resolved, cousin, said Lady Bella, to persist in that

ridiculous mistake, and take a nobleman for a writing-master only

because his love put him upon such a stratagem to obtain his mistress?

Indeed, Lady Bella, said Miss Glanville, smiling, you may as well

persuade me the moon is made of a cream cheese, as that any nobleman

turned himself into a writing-master, to obtain Miss Groves--

Is it possible, miss, said Arabella, that you can offer such an affront

to my understanding, as to suppose I would argue upon such a ridiculous

system, and compare the second glorious luminary of the heavens to so

unworthy a resemblance? I have taken some pains to contemplate the

heavenly bodies; and, by reading and observation, am able to comprehend

some part of their excellence: therefore it is not probable I should

descend to such trivial comparisons; and liken a planet, which, haply,

is not much less than our earth, to a thing so inconsiderable as that

you name--

Pardon me, dear cousin, interrupted Miss Glanville, laughing louder

than before, if I divert myself a little with the extravagance of your

notions. Really, I think you have no reason to be angry if I supposed

you might make a comparison between the moon and a cream cheese; since

you say that same moon, which don't appear broader than your gardener's

face, is not much less than the whole world. Why, certainly, I have

more reason to trust my own eyes than such whimsical notions as these.

Arabella, unwilling to expose her cousin's ignorance by a longer

dispute upon this subject, begged her to let it drop for the present;

and, turning to Sir George, I am very glad, said she, that having

always had some inclination to excuse, and even defend, the flight of

Artemisa with Alexander, my opinion is warranted by that of a person

so generous as yourself. Indeed, when we consider that this princess

forsook her brother's dominions, and fled away with a lover whom she

did not hate; questionless her enemies accuse her, with some appearance

of reason, of too great imbecility.

But, madam, replied Sir George, her enemies will not take the pains to

examine her reasons for this conduct--

True, sir, resumed Arabella; for she was in danger of seeing a prince,

who loved her, put to a cruel and infamous death upon a public

scaffold; and she did not resolve to fly with him, till all her tears

and prayers were found ineffectual to move the king her brother to

mercy.

Though, replied Sir George, I am extremely angry with the indiscreet

Cepio, who discovered Alexander to the Armenian king; yet what does

your ladyship think of that gallant action of his, when he saw him upon

the scaffold, and the executioner ready to cut off his head? How brave

it was of him, to pass undauntedly through the prodigious number of

guards that environed the scaffold; and, with his drawn sword, run the

executioner through the body, in the sight of them all! Then giving the

prince another sword, engage more than two thousand men in his defence!

Questionless, replied Arabella, it was a glorious action; and when I

think how the king of Armenia was enraged to see such a multitude of

soldiers fly from the swords of two men, I cannot choose but divert

myself with the consternation he was in: yet that was nothing to the

horrible despair which tormented him afterwards, when he found that

Alexander, after being again taken and imprisoned, had broken his

chains, and carried away with him the princess Artimesa his sister.

Chapter II.

_In which a very pleasing conversation is left unfinished._

As Arabella was in this part of her discourse, a servant came to inform

her that Sir Charles Glanville was just alighted. Upon which Miss

Glanville flew to receive her father; and Arabella, walking a little

slower after her, gave Sir George an opportunity of holding a little

longer conversation with her.

I dare believe, madam, said he, when you read the story of the

unfortunate Alexander, your fair eyes did not refuse to shed some tears

at the barbarous and shameful death he was going to suffer: yet I

assure you, melancholy as his situation was, it was also very glorious

for him, since he had the sublime satisfaction of dying for the person

he adored; and had the ravishing pleasure to know, that his fate would

draw tears from that lovely princess, for whom he sacrificed his life.

Such a condition, madam, ought to be envied rather than pitied; for,

next to the happiness of possessing the person one adores, certainly

the glory of dying for her is most to be coveted.

Arabella, pleasingly surprised to hear language so conformable to her

own ideas, looked for a moment upon the baronet with a most enchanting

complacency in her eyes--

It must be confessed, sir, says she, that you speak very rationally

upon these matters; and by the tenderness and generosity of your

sentiments, you give me cause to believe that your heart is

prepossessed with some object worthy of inspiring them.

Sir George, seeming as if he struggled to suppress a sigh; You are in

the right, madam, said he, to suppose, that if my heart be prepossessed

with any object, it is with one who is capable of inspiring a very

sublime passion; and I assure you, if ever it submits to any fetters,

they shall be imposed on me by the fairest person in the world--

Since love is not voluntary, replied Arabella, smiling, it may happen,

that your heart may be surprised by a meaner beauty, than such a one

as you describe: however, as a lover has always an extraordinary

partiality for the beloved object, it is probable what you say may come

to pass; and you may be in love with the fairest person in the world,

in your own opinion.

They were now so near the house, that Sir George could reply no other

ways than by a very passionate glance, which Arabella did not observe,

being in haste to pay her respects to her uncle, whom she met just

going to Mr. Glanville. Her looks were directed to him. Sir Charles

saluting her with great affection, they all went into Mr. Glanville's

chamber, who received his father with the utmost respect and

tenderness; extremely regretting the trouble he had been at in taking a

journey to the castle upon his account; and gently blaming his sister

for her precipitancy in alarming him so soon.

Sir Charles, extremely overjoyed to find him so well recovered, would

not allow him to blame Miss Glanville for what she had done; but

addressing himself to his niece, he thanked her for the care she had

taken of Mr. Glanville, in very obliging terms.

Arabella could not help blushing at her uncle's compliment, supposing

he thanked her for having restored her cousin to his health.

I assure you, sir, said she, Mr. Glanville is less obliged to my

commands, than to the goodness of his constitution, for his recovery;

and herein he was not so obedient as many persons I could name to him.

Mr. Glanville, willing to prevent the company's observation upon this

speech, began to acquaint his father with the rise and progress of his

distemper: but though the old gentleman listened with great attention

to his son while he was speaking; yet, not having lost a word of what

Arabella had said, as soon as he was done he turned to his niece,

and asked her how she could be so unjust as to accuse his son of

disobedience, because he did not recover when she commanded him? Why,

madam, added he, you want to carry your power farther then ever any

beauty did before you; since you pretend to make people sick and well

whenever you please.

Really, sir, replied Arabella, I pretend to no more power than what I

presume all others of my sex have upon the like occasions; and since

nothing is more common than for a gentleman, though ever so sick, to

recover in obedience to the commands of that person who has an absolute

power over his life, I conceive I have a right to think myself injured,

if Mr. Glanville, contrary to mine, had thought proper to die--

Since, said the old gentleman, smiling, my son has so well obeyed your

commands in recovering his health, I shall tremble, lest in obedience

to a contrary command of yours, he should die, and deprive me of an

heir; a misfortune which, if it should happen, I should place to your

account.

I assure you, sir, said Arabella, very gravely, I have too great an

esteem for Mr. Glanville, to condemn him to so severe a punishment as

death for light offences; and since it is not very probable that he

will ever commit such crimes against me, as can be only expiated by

his death; such as infidelity, disobedience, and the like, you have no

reason to fear such a misfortune by my means--

Alas! replied Sir George, you beauties make very nice distinctions in

these cases; and think, if you do not directly command your lovers to

die, you are no ways accountable for their death. And when a lover,

as it often happens, dies through despair of ever being able to make

himself beloved; or, being doomed to banishment, or silence, falls into

a fever, from which nothing but kindness can recover him; and, that

being denied, he patiently expires; I say, when these things happen, as

they certainly do every day; how can you hold yourselves guiltless of

their deaths, which are apparently occasioned either by your scorn or

insensibility?

Sir Charles and Miss Glanville were extremely diverted at this speech

of Sir George's; and Mr. Glanville, though he would have wished he had

been rallying any other person's follies than his cousin's, yet could

not help smiling at the solemn accent in which he delivered himself--

Arabella, mightily pleased with his manner of talking, was resolved to

furnish him with more occasions of diverting the company at her expense.

I see, answered she, you are one of those persons who call a just

decorum, which all ladies, who love glory as they ought to do, are

obliged to preserve, by the name of severity: but pray, what would

you have a lady do, whom an importunate lover presumes to declare

his passion to? You know it is not permitted us to listen to such

discourses; and you know also, whoever is guilty of such an offence,

merits a most rigorous punishment: moreover, you find, that when a

sentence of banishment or silence is pronounced upon them, these

unhappy criminals are so conscious of the justice of their doom, that

they never murmur against their judge who condemns them; and therefore,

whatever are their fates in consequence of that anger they have

incurred, the ladies, thus offended, ought not to be charged with it as

any cruel exertion of their power.

Such eloquence as yours, madam, replied Sir George, might defend things

yet more unjustifiable. However, you must give me leave, as being

interested in the safety of my sex, still to be of opinion, that no man

ought to be hated because he adores a beautiful object, and consecrates

all his moments to her service.

Questionless, resumed Arabella, he will not be hated, while, out of the

respect and reverence he bears her, he carefully conceals his passion

from her knowledge; but as soon as ever he breaks through the bounds

which that respect prescribes him, and lets her understand his true

sentiments, he has reason to expect a most rigorous sentence, since he

certainly, by that presumption, has greatly deserved it.

If the ladies, replied Sir George, were more equitable, and would make

some distinction between those who really love them in a passionate

and respectful silence, and others who do not feel the power of their

charms, they might spare themselves the trouble of hearing what so

mortally offends them: but when a lady sees a man every day, who, by

his looks, sighs, and solicitude to please her, by his numberless

services, and constant attendance on her, makes it evident that

his soul is possessed with a violent passion for her; I say, when

a lady sees, and yet will not see, all this, and persists in using

a passionate adorer with all the indifference due to a man wholly

insensible of the power of her charms; what must he do in such a

mortifying situation, but make known his torments to her that occasions

them, in order to prevail upon her to have some sense of what he does

and feels hourly for her sake?

But since he gains nothing by the discovery of his passion, resumed

Arabella; but, on the contrary, loses the advantages he was before

possessed of, which were very great, since he might see and discourse

with his mistress every day; and, haply, have the honour to do her

a great many petty services, and receive some of her commands; all

these advantages he loses when he declares he loves: and, truly, I

think a man who is so unwise as to hazard a certain happiness for a

very improbable hope, deserves to be punished, as well for his folly

as presumption; and, upon both these accounts, banishment is not too

rigorous a sentence.

Chapter III.

_Definition of love and beauty. The necessary qualities of a hero and

heroine._

Though, replied Mr. Glanville, you are very severe in the treatment

you think it necessary our sex should receive from yours; yet I wish

some of our town-beauties were, if not altogether of your opinion, yet

sufficiently so as to make it not a slavery for a man to be in their

company; for unless one talks of love to these fair coquettes the

whole time one is with them, they are quite displeased, and look upon

a man who can think any thing, but themselves, worthy his thoughts or

observation, with the utmost contempt. How often have you and I, Sir

George, pursued he, pitied the condition of the few men of sense, who

are sometimes among the crowd of beaux who attend the two celebrated

beauties to all places of polite diversion in town? For those ladies

think it a mortal injury done to their charms, if the men about them

have eyes or ears for any object but their faces, or any sound but that

of their voices: so that the connoisseurs in music, who attend them

to Ranelagh, must stop their ears, like Ulysses, when the siren Frasi

sings; and the wits who gallant them to the side-box, must lay a much

greater constraint upon themselves, in order to resist the soul-moving

Garrick; and appear insensible while he is upon the stage.

Upon my soul, added Sir George (forgetting the character he assumed)

when I have seen some persons of my acquaintance talking to the eldest

of these ladies, while one of Congreve's comedies has been acting; his

face quite turned from the stage, and hers overspread with an eternal

smile; her fine eyes sometimes lifted up in a beautiful surprise, and

a little enchanting giggle half hid with her fan; in spite of their

inattention, I have been ready to imagine, he was entertaining her with

remarks upon the play, which she was judicious enough to understand.

And yet I have afterwards been informed by himself, that nothing was

less in their thoughts; and all that variety in her face, and that

extreme seeming earnestness in his discourse, was occasioned by the

most trifling subjects imaginable: he perhaps had been telling her, how

the sight of her squirrel, which peeped out of her pocket, surprised

some ladies she was visiting; and what they said upon her fondness

for it, when she was gone; blaming them at the same time for their

want of delicacy, in not knowing how to set a right value upon such

pleasing animals. Hence proceeded her smiles, the lifting up of her

eyes, the half-stifled laugh, and all the pretty gestures that appeared

so wonderfully charming to all those who did not hear their discourse:

and it is upon such trifles as these, or else on the inexhaustible

subject of their charms, that all who are ambitious of being near these

miracles, are under a necessity of talking.

And pray, interrupted Arabella, what subjects afford matter for a more

pleasing variety of conversation, than those of beauty and love? Can

we speak of any object so capable of delighting as beauty, or of any

passion of the mind more sublime and pleasing than love?

With submission, madam, said Glanville, I conceive, all that can be

said either of beauty, or of love, may be comprised in a very few

words. All who have eyes, and behold true beauty, will be ready to

confess it is a very pleasing object; and all that can be said of

it may be said in a very few words; for when we have run over the

catalogue of charms, and mentioned fine eyes, fine hair, delicate

complexion, regular features, and an elegant shape, we can only add a

few epithets more, such as lovely, dangerous, enchanting, irresistible,

and the like; and every thing that can be said of beauty is exhausted.

And so likewise it is with love: we know that Admiration precedes

it, that Beauty kindles it, Hope keeps it alive, and Despair puts an

end to it; and that subject may be as soon discussed as the other,

by the judicious use of proper words; such as wounds, darts, fires,

languishings, dyings, torture, rack, jealousy, and a few more of no

signification but upon this subject.

Certainly, sir, said Arabella, you have not well considered what you

say, since you maintain that love and beauty are subjects easily and

quickly discussed. Take the pains, I beseech you, to reflect a little

upon those numerous and long conversations, which these subjects

have given rise to in Clelia, and the Grand Cyrus, where the most

illustrious and greatest personages in the world manage the disputes;

and the agreeable diversity of their sentiments on those heads affords

a most pleasing and rational entertainment. You will there find, that

the greatest conquerors, and heroes of invincible valour, reason

with the most exact and scrupulous nicety upon love and beauty; the

superiority of fair and brown hair controverted by warriors with as

much eagerness as they dispute for victory in the field; and the

different effects of that passion upon different hearts defined with

the utmost accuracy and eloquence.

I must own, interrupted Sir Charles, I should have but a mean opinion

of those warriors, as you call them, who could busy themselves in

talking of such trifles; and be apt to imagine such insignificant

fellows, who could wrangle about the colour of their mistress's hair,

would be the first to turn their backs upon the enemy in battle.

Is it possible, sir, resumed Arabella, glowing with indignation,

that you can entertain such unworthy thoughts of heroes, who merit

the admiration and praise of all ages for their inestimable valour,

whom the spears of a whole army opposed to each of their single

swords would not oblige to fly? What think you, sir, pursued she,

looking at Sir George, of the injurious words my uncle has uttered

against those heroic princes, whose courage, I believe, you are as

well acquainted with as myself? The great Oroondates, the invincible

Artaban, the valiant and fortunate Artamenes, the irresistible Juba,

the incomparable Cleomedon, and an hundred other heroes I could name,

are all injured by this unjust assertion of my uncle; since certainly

they were not more famous for their noble and wonderful actions in war,

than for the sublimity and constancy of their affections in love.

Some of these heroes you have named, replied Sir George, had the

misfortune, even in their lives, to be very cruelly vilified. The great

Oroondates was a long time accused of treachery to his divine princess;

the valiant and unfortunate Artamenes was suspected of inconstancy; and

the irresistible Juba reproached with infidelity and baseness, by both

his mistress and friend.

I never knew you was so well acquainted with these persons, interrupted

Mr. Glanville; and I fancy it is but very lately that you have given

yourself the trouble to read romances.

I am not of your opinion, said Arabella. Sir George, questionless, has

appropriated great part of his time to the perusal of those books,

so capable of improving him in all useful knowledge; the sublimity

of love, and the quintessence of valour; which two qualities, if

possessed in a superlative degree, form a true and perfect hero, as

the perfection of beauty, wit, and virtue, make a heroine worthy to be

served by such an illustrious personage. And I dare say Sir George has

profited so much by the great examples of fidelity and courage he has

placed before his eyes, that no consideration whatever could make him

for one moment fail in his constancy to the divine beauty he adores;

and, inspired by her charms, he would scorn to turn his back, as my

uncle phrases it, upon an army of an hundred thousand men.

I am extremely obliged to you, madam, said Sir George, bowing his head

to the ground to hide a smile he could not possibly restrain, for the

good opinion you have of my courage and fidelity.

As for Sir George's courage, cousin, said Mr. Glanville, laughing,

I never disputed it: and though it be indeed a very extraordinary

exertion of it, to fight singly against an army of an hundred thousand

men; yet since you are pleased to think it probable, I am as willing to

believe Sir George may do it as any other man; but, as for his fidelity

in matters of love, I greatly suspect it, since he has been charged

with some very flagrant crimes of that nature.

How, sir! resumed Arabella. Have you ever been faithless then? And,

after having sworn, haply, to devote your whole life to the service of

some beauty, have you ever violated your oaths, and been base enough to

forsake her?

I have too much complaisance, madam, said Sir George, to contradict Mr.

Glanville, who has been pleased positively to assert, that I have been

faithless, as you most unkindly phrase it.

Nay, sir, replied Arabella, this accusation is not of a nature to be

neglected; and though a king should say it, I conceive, if you are

innocent, you have a right to contradict him, and clear yourself. Do

you consider how deeply this assertion wounds your honour and happiness

for the future? What lady, think you, will receive your services,

loaded as you are with the terrible imputation of inconstancy?

Oh! as for that, madam, said Miss Glanville, I believe no lady will

think the worse of Sir George for being faithless. For my part, I

declare nothing pleases me so much, as gaining a lover from another

lady; which is a greater compliment to one's beauty, then the addresses

of a man that never was in love before--

You may remember, cousin, replied Arabella, that I said once before,

your spirit and humour resembled a certain great princess very much;

and I repeat it again, never was there a greater conformity in tempers

and inclinations.

My daughter, said Sir Charles, is mightily obliged to you, Lady Bella,

for comparing her to a great princess: undoubtedly you mean it as a

compliment.

If you think, said Arabella, that barely comparing her to a princess be

a compliment, I must take the liberty to differ from you. My cousin is

not so many degrees below a princess, as that such a comparison should

be thought extraordinary: for if her ancestors did not wear a crown,

they might, haply, have deserved it; and her beauty may one day procure

her a servant, whose sword, like that of the great Artaban, may win her

a sceptre; who, with a noble confidence, told his princess, when the

want of a crown was objected to him, "I wear a sword, madam, that can

perform things more difficult than what you require; and if a crown be

all that I want to make me worthy of you, tell me what kingdom in the

world you choose to reign in, and I will lay it at your feet."

That was a promise, replied Sir George, fit only for the great Artaban

to make: but, madam, if you will permit me to make any comparison

between that renowned warrior and myself, I would venture to tell you,

that even the great Artaban was not exempted from the character of

inconstancy any more than myself, since, as you certainly know, he was

in love with three great princesses successively.

I grant you, replied Arabella, that Artaban did wear the chains of

three princesses successively; but it must also be remembered, in

his justification, that the two first of these beauties refused his

adorations, and treated him with contempt, because he was not a prince:

therefore, recovering his liberty, by those disdains they cast on him,

he preserved that illustrious heart from despair, to tender it with

more passionate fidelity to the divine princess of the Parthians; who,

though greatly their superior in quality and beauty, did permit him

to love her. However, I must confess, I find something like levity in

the facility he found in breaking his fetters so often; and when I

consider, that among all those great heroes, whose histories I have

read, none but himself ever bore, without dying, the cruelties he

experienced from those princesses, I am sometimes tempted to accuse

him myself of inconstancy: but indeed every thing we read of that

prodigy of valour is wholly miraculous; and since the performance of

impossibilities was reserved for him, I conclude this miracle also,

among many others, was possible to him, whom nothing was ever able to

resist upon earth. However, pursued she, rising, I shall not absolutely

condemn you, till I have heard your adventures from your own mouth, at

a convenient time, when I shall be able to judge how far you merit the

odious appellation of inconstancy.

Saying this, she saluted her uncle, who had for some time been

conversing in a low voice with his son, with a grace wholly charming,

and retired to her apartment. Miss Glanville following her a few

moments after, (the compliment, extravagant as it was, which she

had paid her, having procured her some good will from the vain and

interested Miss Glanville), they conversed together with a great deal

of good humour till dinner-time, which, because Mr. Glanville was not

absolutely recovered, was served in his chamber.

Chapter IV.

_In which our heroine is engaged in a new adventure._

As Mr. Glanville took a great deal of pains to turn the discourse upon

subjects on which the charming Arabella could expatiate, without any

mixture of that absurdity which mingled itself in a great many others;

the rest of that day, and several others, were passed very agreeably:

at the end of which, Mr. Glanville being perfectly recovered, and able

to go abroad, the baronet proposed to take the diversion of hunting;

which Arabella, who was used to it, consented to partake of; but being

informed that Miss Glanville could not ride, and chose to stay at home,

she would have kept her company, had not Sir Charles insisted upon the

contrary.

As Sir George, and some other gentlemen, had invited themselves to be

of the party; Arabella, on her coming down to mount her horse, found a

great many young gallants ready to offer her their assistance upon this

occasion: accepting therefore, with great politeness, this help from a

stranger, who was nearest her, she mounted her horse, giving occasion

to every one that was present, to admire the grace with which she sat

and managed him. Her shape being as perfect as any shape could possibly

be, her riding-habit discovered all its beauties: her hat, and the

white feather waving over part of her fine black hair, gave a peculiar

charm to her lovely face; and she appeared with so many advantages

in this dress and posture, that Mr. Glanville, forgetting all her

absurdities, was wholly lost in the contemplation of so many charms, as

her whole person was adorned with.

Sir George, though he really admired Arabella, was not so passionately

in love as Mr. Glanville; and, being a keen sportsman, eagerly pursued

the game, with the rest of the hunters; but Mr. Glanville minded

nothing but his cousin, and kept close by her.

After having rode a long time, Arabella, conceiving it a piece of

cruelty not to give her lover an opportunity of talking to her, as,

by his extreme solicitude, he seemed ardently to desire, coming to a

delightful valley, she stopped; and told Mr. Glanville, that being

weary of the chase, she should alight, and repose herself a little

under the shade of those trees.

Mr. Glanville, extremely pleased at this proposition, dismounted; and,

having helped her to alight, seated himself by her on the grass.

Arabella, expecting he would begin to talk to her of his passion,

could not help blushing at the thoughts of having given him such an

opportunity; and Mr. Glanville, endeavouring to accommodate himself to

her ideas of a lover, expressed himself in terms extravagant enough to

have made a reasonable woman think he was making a jest of her: all

which, however, Arabella was extremely pleased with; and she observed

such a just decorum in her answers, that, as the writers of romance

phrase it, if she did not give him any absolute hopes of being beloved,

yet she said enough to make him conclude she did not hate him.

They had conversed in this manner near a quarter of an hour,

when Arabella, perceiving a man at a little distance, walking

very composedly, shrieked out aloud; and, rising with the utmost

precipitation, flew from Mr. Glanville, and went to untie her horse;

while his astonishment being so great at her behaviour, that he could

not, for a moment or two, ask her the cause of her fear--

Do you not see, said she, out of breath with the violence of her

apprehensions, the person who is coming towards us? It is the same,

who, some months ago, attempted to carry me away, when I was riding

out with only two attendants: I escaped for that time the danger that

threatened me; but, questionless, he comes now to renew his attempts:

therefore can you wonder at my fear?

If it should be as you say, madam, interrupted Glanville, what reason

have you to fear? Do you not think I am able to defend you?

Ah! without doubt, you are able to defend me, answered she; and though,

if you offer to resist the violence he comes to use against me, he

will, haply, call two or three dozen armed men to his assistance, who

are, I suppose, concealed hereabouts, yet I am not apprehensive, that

you will be worsted by them. But as it happened to the brave Juba, and

Cleomedon, while they were fighting with some hundred men, who wanted

to carry away their princesses before their faces; and were giving

death at every blow, in order to preserve them; the commander of these

ravishers, seeing the two princesses sitting, as I was, under a tree,

ordered them to be seized by two of his men, and carried away, while

the two princes were losing best part of their blood in their defence:

therefore, to prevent such an accident happening, while you are

fighting for my rescue, I think it will be the safest way for me to get

on horseback, that I may be in a condition to escape; and that you may

not employ your valour to no purpose.

Saying this, having, with Mr. Glanville's assistance, loosed her horse

from the tree, he helped her to mount, and then remounted his own.

Your antagonist, said Arabella, is on foot; and therefore, though I

prize your life extremely, yet I cannot dispense with myself from

telling you, that it is against the laws of knighthood to take any

advantage of that kind over your enemy; nor will I permit your concern

for my safety to make you forget what you owe to your own reputation.

Mr. Glanville, fretting excessively at her folly, begged her not to

make herself uneasy about things that were never likely to happen.

The gentleman yonder, added he, seems to have no designs to make any

attempt against you: if he should, I shall know how to deal with him;

but, since he neither offers to assault me nor affront you, I think we

ought not to give him any reason to imagine we suspect him, by gazing

on him thus; and letting him understand by your manner, that he is the

subject of our conversation. If you please, madam, we will endeavour to

join our company.

Arabella, while he was speaking, kept her eyes fixed upon his face,

with looks which expressed her thoughts were labouring upon some very

important point; and, after a pause of some moments, Is it possible,

said she, with a tone of extreme surprise, that I should be so mistaken

in you? Do you really want courage enough to defend me against that

ravisher?

Oh heavens! madam, interrupted Glanville, try not my temper thus:

courage enough to defend you! 'Sdeath! you will make me mad! Who, in

the name of wonder, is going to molest you?

He whom you see there, replied Arabella, pointing to him with her

finger: for know, cold and insensible as thou art to the danger which

threatens me, yonder knight is thy rival, and a rival, haply, who

deserves my esteem better than thou dost; since, if he has courage

enough to get me by violence into his power, that same courage would

make him defend me against any injuries I might be offered from

another. And since nothing is so contemptible in the eyes of a woman,

as a lover who wants spirit to die in her defence; know, I can sooner

pardon him, whom thou would cowardly fly from, for the violence which

he meditates against me, than thyself for the pusillanimity thou hast

betrayed in my sight.

With these words she galloped away from her astonished lover; who,

not daring to follow her, for fear of increasing her suspicions of

his cowardice, flung himself off his horse in a violent rage; and,

forgetting that the stranger was observing, and now within hearing, he

fell a-cursing and exclaiming against the books that had turned his

cousin's brain; and railing at his own ill fate that condemned him to

the punishment of loving her. Mr. Hervey (for it really was he, whom

an affair of consequence had brought again into the country) hearing

some of Mr. Glanville's last words, and observing the gestures he used,

concluded he had been treated like himself by Arabella, whom he knew

again at a distance: therefore coming up to Mr. Glanville, laughing--

Though I have not the honour of knowing you, sir, said he, I must

beg the favour you will inform me, if you are not disturbed at the

ridiculous folly of the lady I saw with you just now? She is the must

fantastical creature that ever lived, and, in my opinion, fit for a

mad-house. Pray, are you acquainted with her?

Mr. Glanville, being in a very ill humour, could not brook the freedom

of this language against his cousin, whose follies he could not bear

any one should rail at but himself; and being provoked at his sneers,

and the interruption he had given to their conversation, he looked upon

him with a disdainful frown, and told him in an haughty tone, that he

was very impertinent to speak of a lady of her quality and merit so

rudely.

Oh! sir, I beg your pardon, replied Mr. Hervey, laughing more than

before. What, I suppose you are the champion of this fair lady! But, I

assure myself, if you intend to quarrel with every one that will laugh

at her, you will have more business upon your hands than you can well

manage.

Mr. Glanville, transported with rage at this insolence, hit him such a

blow with the butt-end of his whip, that it stunned him for a moment;

but recovering himself, he drew his sword, and, mad with the affront

he had received, made a push at Glanville; who, avoiding it with great

dexterity, had recourse to his hanger for his defence.

Arabella, in the mean time, who had not rid far, concealing herself

behind some trees, saw all the actions of her lover, and intended

ravisher; and being possessed with an opinion of her cousin's

cowardice, was extremely rejoiced to see him fall upon his enemy first,

and that with so much fury, that she had no longer any reason to doubt

his courage. Her suspicions therefore being removed, her tenderness for

him returned; and when she saw them engaged with their swords (for, at

that distance, she did not plainly perceive the difference of their

weapons), her apprehensions for her cousin were so strong, that though

she did not doubt his valour, she could not bear to see him expose his

life for her; and without making any reflections upon the singularity

of her design, she was going to ride up to them, and endeavour to

part them; when she saw several men come towards them, whom she took

to be the assistants of her ravisher, though they were, in reality,

haymakers; who, at a distance, having seen the beginning of their

quarrel, had hastened to part them.

Terrified, therefore, at this reinforcement, which she thought would

expose her cousin to great danger, she galloped with all speed after

the hunters, being directed by the sound of the horn. Her anxiety for

her cousin made her regardless of her own danger, so that she rode

with a surprising swiftness; and, overtaking the company, she would

have spoken to tell them of her cousin's situation: when her spirits

failing her, she could only make a sign with her hand, and sunk down

in a swoon, in the arms of Sir George, who eagerly galloped up to her;

and, supporting her as well as he was able till some others came to her

relief, they took her off her horse, and placed her upon the ground;

when, by the help of some water they brought from a spring near them,

in a little time she came to herself.

Sir Charles, who, seeing her come up to them without his son, and by

her fainting, concluded some misfortune had happened to him, the moment

she opened her eyes, asked her eagerly where he was.

Your son, said Arabella, sighing, with a valour equal to that of the

brave Cleomedon, is this moment fighting in my defence against a crowd

of enemies; and is, haply, shedding the last drop of his blood in my

quarrel.

Shedding the last drop of his blood, _haply!_ interrupted Sir Charles,

excessively grieved; and not a little enraged at Arabella, supposing

she had introduced him into some quarrel: it may be _happy_ for you,

madam; but I am sure it will make me very miserable, if my son comes to

any harm.

If it be the will of Heaven he should fall in this combat, resumed

Arabella, he can never have a more glorious destiny; and as that

consideration will, doubtless, sweeten his last moments, so it ought to

be your consolation. However, I beg you'll lose no time, but haste to

his assistance; for since he has a considerable number of enemies to

deal with, it is not improbable but he may be overpowered at last.

Where did you leave my son, madam? cried Sir Charles, eagerly.

He is not far off, replied Arabella: and you will doubtless be directed

to the place, by the sight of the blood of his enemies which he has

spilt. Go that way, pursued she, pointing with her finger towards the

place where she had left her cousin: there you will meet with him,

amidst a crowd of foes, whom he is sacrificing to my safety, and his

just resentment.

Sir Charles, not knowing what to think, galloped away, followed by most

part of the company; Sir George telling Lady Bella that he would stay

to defend her against any attempts that might be made on her liberty,

by any of her ravisher's servants, who were, probably, straggling

about. Arabella, however, being perfectly recovered, insisted upon

following her uncle.

There is no question, said she, but Mr. Glanville is victorious. I am

only apprehensive for the dangerous wounds he may have received in the

combat, which will require all our care and assistance.

Sir George, who wanted to engross her company a little to himself, in

vain represented to her, that, amidst the horrors of a fight so bloody

as that must certainly be, in which Mr. Glanville and his friends would

be now engaged, it would be dangerous for her to venture her person:

yet she would not be persuaded; but, having mounted her horse, with

his assistance, she rode as fast as she was able after the rest of the

company.

Chapter V.

_Being a chapter of mistakes._

Sir Charles, who, by this time, had got to the place she directed him

to, but saw no appearance of fighting, and only a few haymakers in

discourse together, enquired if there had been any quarrel between two

gentlemen in that place?

One of them, at this question, advancing, told Sir Charles, that two

gentlemen had quarrelled there, and were fighting with swords; but that

they had parted them: and that one of them, having an horse tied to a

tree, mounted him and rode away: that the other, they believed, was not

far off; and that there had been no blood shed, they having come time

enough to prevent it.

Sir Charles was extremely satisfied with this account; and giving the

haymakers some money for the good office they did in parting the two

combatants, rode up to meet Lady Bella, and informed her that his son

was safe.

I cannot imagine he is safe, replied she, when I see some of his

enemies (pointing to the haymakers) still alive. It is not customary,

in those cases, to suffer any to escape: and, questionless, my cousin

is either dead, or a prisoner, since all his adversaries are not

vanquished.

Why, you dream, madam, replied Sir Charles: those fellows yonder are

haymakers. What should make them enemies to my son? They were lucky

enough to come in time to prevent him and another gentleman from

doing each other a mischief. I cannot imagine for what reason my son

quarrelled with that person they speak of: perhaps you can inform me?

Certainly, sir, said Arabella, I can inform you, since I was the cause

of their quarrel. The story is too long to tell you now; and, besides,

it is so connected with the other accidents of my life, that it is

necessary you should be acquainted with my whole history, in order to

comprehend it. But if those persons are what you say, and did really

part my cousin and his antagonist, truly I believe they have done him

a very ill office: for, I am persuaded, my cousin will never be at

rest, till, by his rival's death, he has freed himself from one capable

of the most daring enterprises to get me into his power: and since I

cannot be in security while he lives, and persists in the resolution he

has taken to persecute me, it had been better if he had suffered all

the effects of my cousin's resentment at that time, than to give him

the trouble to hunt him through the world, in order to sacrifice him to

the interest of his love and vengeance.

Sir Charles, no less astonished than alarmed at this discovery of his

niece's sanguinary sentiments, told her, he was sorry to see a lady so

far forget the gentleness of her sex, as to encourage and incite men to

such extremities upon her account. And for the future, added he, I must

entreat you, niece, to spare me the affliction of seeing my son exposed

to these dangerous quarrels: for, though his life is so little regarded

by you, yet it is of the utmost consequence to me.

Arabella, who found matter sufficient in the beginning of this speech,

to be offended with her uncle, yet, mistaking the latter part of it for

a pathetic complaint of her cruelty, replied very gravely, that her

cousin's safety was not so indifferent to her as he imagined; and that

she did not hate him so much but that his death would affect her very

sensibly.

Arabella, in speaking these words, blushed with shame, as thinking they

were rather too tender; and Sir Charles, who coloured likewise, from

a very different motive, was opening his mouth to tell her, that he

did not think his son was much obliged to her for not hating him; when

Arabella, supposing he designed to press her to a further explanation

of the favourable sentiments she felt for Mr. Glanville, stopped him

with precipitation. Press me no more, said she, upon this subject: and,

as I have already spoken too much, haply, before so many witnesses,

seek not to enhance my confusion, by prolonging a discourse that at

present must needs be disagreeable to me.

I shall readily agree with you, madam, replied Sir Charles, that you

have spoken too much: and, if I had thought you capable of speaking in

the manner you have done, I would have been more cautious in giving you

an occasion for it.

I should imagine, sir, said Arabella, blushing with anger, as she

before did with shame, that you would be the last person in the world

who could think I had spoken too much upon this occasion; and since you

are pleased to tell me so, I think it fit to let you know, that I have

not, in my opinion, transgressed the laws of decency and decorum, in

what I have said in my cousin's favour; and I can produce many examples

of greater freedom of speech, in princesses, and ladies of the highest

quality. However, I shall learn such a lesson of moderation in this

respect, from your reproof, that I promise you, neither yourself or Mr.

Glanville shall have any cause, for the future, to complain of my want

of discretion.

Sir Charles, who was very polite and good-natured, was half angry

with himself, for having obliged his niece to such a submission, as

he thought it; and, apologizing for the rudeness of his reprehension,

assured her that he was perfectly convinced of her discretion in all

things; and did not doubt but her conduct would be always agreeable to

him.

Arabella, who, from what her uncle had said, began to entertain

suspicions that would never have entered any imagination but hers,

looked earnestly upon him for half a moment, as if she wished to

penetrate into the most secret recesses of his heart: but, fancying

she saw something in his looks that confirmed her apprehensions, she

removed her eyes from his face, and fastening them on the ground,

remained for some moments in confusion.--Sir Charles, whom her apparent

disturbance made very uneasy, proposed returning to the castle; telling

Lady Bella he expected to find his son already there.

It is more than probable, said she, turning to Sir George, that my

cousin is gone in pursuit of my ravisher; and the interruption that

has been given to his designed vengeance, making him more furious

than before, it is not likely he will return till he has punished his

insolence by that death he so justly merits.

Mr. Glanville is already so happy in your opinion, said Sir George,

with a very profound sigh, that there is no need of his rendering you

this small service to increase your esteem; but, if my prayers are

heard, the punishment of your ravisher will be reserved for a person

less fortunate, indeed, than Mr. Glanville, though not less devoted to

your interest, and concerned in your preservation.

Sir George, counterfeiting a look of extreme confusion and fear, as he

ended these words--

Arabella, who perfectly comprehended the meaning they were designed

to convey, thought herself obliged to take no notice of them: and,

therefore, without making any reply to the young baronet, who ventured

slowly to lift his eyes to her face, in order to discover if there were

any signs of anger in it, she told Sir Charles she inclined to go home;

and Sir George, with the rest of the company, attended them to the

castle; where, as soon as they arrived, they took their leave.

Sir George, notwithstanding Arabella's care to deprive him of an

opportunity of speaking to her, told her, in a whisper, having eagerly

alighted to help her off her horse--

I am going, madam, to find out that insolent man, who has dared to

offer violence to the fairest person in the world: and, if I am so

happy as to meet with him, he shall either take my life, or I will put

him into a condition never to commit any more offences of that nature.

Saying this, he made a low bow; and, being desirous to prevent her

answer, remounted his horse, and went away with the rest of the company.

Arabella, who, upon this occasion, was to be all confusion, mixed with

some little resentment, discovered so much emotion in her looks, while

Sir George was whispering to her, that her uncle, as he was handing her

into the house, asked her, If she was offended at any thing Sir George

had said to her?

Arabella, construing this question as she had done some other things

her uncle had said to her, replied, in a reserved manner, Since my

looks, contrary to my intention, have betrayed my thoughts to you, I

will not scruple to confess, that I have some cause to be offended with

Sir George; and that, in two instances to-day, he has seemed to forget

the respect he owes me.

Sir Charles was fired at this account. Is it possible, said he, that

Sir George has had the assurance to say any thing to offend you, and

that before my face too? This affront is not to be borne.

I am sorry, replied Arabella, eying him heedfully, to see you so much

concerned at it.

Don't be uneasy, interrupted Sir Charles: there will be no bad

consequences happen from it; but he shall hear of it, added he, raising

his voice with passion: I'll force him this night to explain himself.

You must pardon me, sir, said Arabella, more and more confirmed in her

notions, if I tell you, that I am extremely offended at your uncommon

zeal upon this occasion: and also I must assure you, that a little more

calmness would be less liable to suspicion.

Miss Glanville coming to meet them, Sir Charles, who did not take

much notice of what Arabella said, eagerly enquired for his son; and,

hearing he was not come home, was apprehensive of his meeting again

with the person he had quarrelled with: but his fears did not last

long; for Mr. Glanville came in, having purposely avoided the company,

to hide the uneasiness Lady Bella's tormenting folly had given him.

Chapter VI.

_In which the mistakes are continued._

As soon as Mr. Glanville appeared, the two ladies retired; Miss

Glanville asking Arabella a hundred questions concerning their

diversion, the drift of which was, to know how Sir George behaved to

her: but that fair lady, whose thoughts were wholly employed on the

strange accidents which had happened to her that day, longed to be

at liberty to indulge her reflections; and, complaining of extreme

weariness, under pretence of reposing herself till dinner, got quit of

Miss Glanville's company, which, at that time, she thought very tedious.

As soon as she was left to herself, her imagination running over all

that had happened, she could not help confessing, that few women

ever met with such a variety of adventures in one day: in danger of

being carried off by violence by one lover; delivered by another;

insinuations of love from a third, who, she thought, was enamoured of

her cousin; and what was still more surprising a discovery, that her

uncle was not insensible of her charms, but was become the rival of his

own son.

As extravagant as this notion was, Arabella found precedents in her

romances of passions full as strange and unjustifiable; and confirmed

herself in that opinion, by recollecting several examples of unlawful

love. Why should I not believe, said she, that my charms can work as

powerful effects as those of Olympia, princess of Thrace, whose brother

was passionately enamoured of her?

Did not the divine Clelia inspire Maherbal with a violent passion for

her; who, though discovered to be her brother, did not, nevertheless,

cease to adore her? And, to bring an instance still nearer to my own

case, was not the uncle of the fair Alcyone in love with her? And did

he not endeavour to win her heart by all the methods in his power?

Ah! then, pursued she, let us doubt no more of our misfortune: and,

since our fatal beauty has raised this impious flame, let us stifle

it with our rigour, and not allow an ill-timed pity, or respect, to

encourage a passion which may, one day, cast a blemish upon our glory.

Arabella, having settled this point, proceeded to reflect on the

conquest she had made of Sir George: she examined his words over and

over, and found them so exactly conformable to the language of an

Oroondates or Orontes that she could not choose but be pleased: but,

recollecting that it behoved her, like all other heroines, to be

extremely troubled and perplexed at an insinuation of love, she began

to lament the cruel necessity of parting with an agreeable friend;

who, if he persisted in making her acquainted with his thoughts, would

expose himself to the treatment persons so indiscreet always meet with:

nor was she less concerned, lest, if Mr. Glanville had not already

dispatched her ravisher, Sir George, by wandering in search of him,

and, haply, sacrificing him to his eager desire of serving her, should

by that means lay her under an obligation to him, which, considering

him as a lover, would be a great mortification.

Sir George, however, was gone home to his own house, with no thoughts

of pursuing Arabella's ravisher: and Mr. Glanville, being questioned

by his father concerning his quarrel, invented some trifling excuse

for it; which not agreeing with the account the baronet had received

from Arabella, he told his son, that he had concealed the truth from

him; and that there was more in that affair than he had owned. You

quarrelled, added he, upon Arabella's account: and she did not scruple

to affirm it before all the company.

Mr. Glanville, who had vainly flattered himself with an hope that his

cousin had not acquainted the company with her whimsical apprehensions,

was extremely vexed when he found she had exposed herself to their

ridicule, and that it was probable even he had not escaped: but

willing to know from her own mouth how far she had carried her folly,

he went up to her chamber; and, being immediately admitted, she began

to congratulate him upon the conquest he had gained, as she supposed,

over his enemy; and thanked him very solemnly for the security he had

procured for her.

Mr. Glanville, after assuring her that she was in no danger of ever

being carried away by that person whom she feared, proceeded to enquire

into all that had passed between her and the company whom she had

joined when she left him; and Arabella, relating every particular, gave

him the mortification to know that her folly had been sufficiently

exposed. But she touched upon her fears for him with so much delicacy,

and mentioned her fainting in such a manner, as insinuated a much

greater tenderness than he before had reason to hope for; and this

knowledge destroying all his intentions to quarrel with her for what

she had said, he appeared so easy and satisfied, that Arabella,

reflecting upon the misfortune his father's new-born passion would

probably be the occasion of to him, could not help sighing at the

apprehension; looking on him, at the same time, with a kind of pitying

complacency; which did not escape Mr. Glanville's notice.

I must know the reason of that sigh, cousin, said he, smiling, and

taking her hand.

If you are wise, replied Arabella, gravely, you will be contented to

remain in the pleasing ignorance you are at present; and not seek to

know a thing which will, haply, afford you but little satisfaction.

You have increased my curiosity so much by this advice, resumed he,

accommodating his looks to Arabella's, that I shall not be at rest till

I know what it is you conceal from me: and since I am so much concerned

in it, even by your own confession, I have a right to press you to

explain yourself.

Since you are so importunate, replied Arabella, I must tell you that I

will not do you so great a diskindness as to explain myself; nor will

I be the first who shall acquaint you with your misfortune, since you

will, haply, too soon arrive at the knowledge of it by other means.

Glanville, who imagined this was some new whim that had got into

her head, was but little perplexed at an insinuation, which, had he

been ignorant of her foible, would have given him great uneasiness:

but, being sensible that she expected he would press her to disclose

herself, and appear extremely concerned at her refusing him that

satisfaction, he counterfeited so well, that she was at a loss how to

evade the arguments he used to make her unfold the terrible mystery;

when the dinner-bell ringing, and relieving her for the present, Mr.

Glanville led her down to the parlour; where Sir Charles and his

daughter attended their coming.

Chapter VII.

_In which the mistakes are not yet cleared up._

The baronet, who had been put into a bad humour by Arabella's

insinuations that Sir George had affronted her, appeared reserved and

uneasy; and, being resolved to question her about it, was willing first

to know exactly what it was his niece had been offended at: but as he

feared, if it came to his son's knowledge, it would produce a quarrel

between the young gentlemen that might have dangerous consequences, he

was desirous of speaking to her alone; and, as soon as dinner was over,

asked her to take a walk with him upon the terrace, telling her he had

something to say to her in private. Arabella, whose fears had been

considerably increased by the pensiveness which appeared in her uncle's

looks during dinner, and supposing he wanted a private conversation

only to explain himself more clearly to her than he had yet done, was

excessively alarmed at this request; and casting her eyes down to the

ground, blushed in such a manner as betrayed her confusion; and made

Miss Glanville and her brother believe that she suspected her uncle had

a design to press her soon to give her hand to Mr. Glanville, which

occasioned her apparent disorder.

Sir Charles, however, who had not so heedfully observed her behaviour,

repeated his request; adding, with a smile, upon her giving him no

answer, Sure, Lady Bella, you are not afraid to be alone with your

uncle.

No, sir, replied Arabella, giving him a piercing look; I am not afraid

of being alone with my uncle; and, as long as he pretends to be no more

than my uncle, I shall not scruple to hear what he has to say to me.

Sir Charles, a little vexed at an answer which insinuated, as he

thought, a complaint of his having pretended to more authority over

her than he ought, told her, he hoped she had no cause to believe he

would displease her by any improper exertion of that power over her

with which her father had entrusted him: For I assure you, added he, I

would rather you should follow my advice as an uncle, than obey me as

a guardian; and, since my affection for you is, perhaps, greater than

what many people have for a niece, my solicitude ought to be imputed to

that motive.

I have all the sense I ought to have of that affection you honour me

with, replied Arabella; and since I hope it will be always what it

should be, without wishing for its increase, I am contented with those

testimonies I have already received of it; and do not desire any other.

Sir Charles, a little puzzled to understand the meaning of these words,

which the grave looks of Arabella made yet more mysterious, rose from

his seat with an air of discontent. I should have been glad to have

spoken a word in private to you, niece, said he; but since you think

proper to make so much ceremony in such a trifle, I'll defer it till

you are in a better humour.

Miss Glanville, seeing her father going out of the room, stepped before

him: Nay, papa, said she, if you want to speak with my cousin, my

brother and I will go out, and leave you to yourselves.

You will do me a very great displeasure, said Arabella; for I am sure

my uncle has not any thing of consequence to say to me. However, added

she, seeing Miss Glanville go away, I am resolved I will not be left

alone; and therefore, Mr. Glanville, since I can pretend to some power

over you, I command you to stay.

You may remember, madam, said Mr. Glanville, with a smile, you refused

to gratify my curiosity with regard to something you hinted to me some

time ago; and to punish you, added he, going out of the room, I am

resolved you shall listen to what my father has to say to you; for, by

your unwillingness to hear it, I imagine you suspect already what it is.

Arabella, finding she had no way to avoid hearing what she dreaded so

much, and observing her uncle had resumed his chair, prepared to give

him audience; but, in order to deprive him of all hope that she would

receive his discourse favourably, she assumed the severest look she

was capable of; and, casting her eyes on the ground, with a mixture of

anger and shame, waited with a kind of fear and impatience for what he

had to say.

I see, madam, said the baronet, observing her confusion, that you

apprehend what I am going to say to you; but I beseech you, do not fear

I have any intentions but such as you'll approve.

You are certainly in the right, sir, said Arabella, in the

interpretation you have put on my looks: I am really in pain about the

purport of your discourse: and you would particularly oblige me, if you

would dispense with me from hearing it.

I see, replied Sir Charles, that, out of a mistaken fear, you are

unwilling to hear me, in order to avoid coming to the explanation I

desire: but I tell you, once again, you have nothing to apprehend.

I have every thing to apprehend, sir, resumed Arabella, tartly, while

you persist in your design of disobliging me; and you cannot give me a

greater proof of the badness of your intentions, than by thus forcing

me to listen to discourses I ought to avoid.

Since my word has no weight with you, replied Sir Charles, I'll

condescend to assure you, by the most sacred oath, that I do not mean

to come to any extremities with Sir George concerning what you already

told me: all I desire to know is, if you think you had any reason to be

offended with him for any thing he said? And, in that case, I cannot

dispense with myself from expostulating with him about it.

You would do me a favour, sir, resumed Arabella, if you would interest

yourself a little less in what Sir George said to me. The offence was

committed against me only; and none but myself has any right to resent

it.

It is enough, niece, said Sir Charles, rising. You acknowledge

sufficient to make me resolve to oblige him to ask pardon for the

affront you have received. However, I beg you may make yourself easy;

no ill consequences will happen from this affair, provided my son does

not know it: and I know you have too much discretion to acquaint him

with it.

Saying this, he went out of the room, leaving Arabella in great

confusion at what he had said; which, in her opinion, had amounted

almost to a plain declaration of his passion; and his design of putting

an end to Sir George's pretensions, whom, it was probable, he looked

upon as a more dangerous rival than his son, confirmed her in the

opinion of his resolution to persecute her.

Full of the reflections this accident had occasioned, she went to walk

in the garden, where Mr. Glanville, his sister having just left him,

joined her.

As he imagined his father's design, in speaking to her alone, was to

prevail upon her to consent to marry him before she left the country,

which was what he most earnestly wished, he drew a bad omen from the

discontent which appeared in her eyes.

Is it with me, cousin, said he, or with what my father has been saying

to you, that you are angry?

With both, replied Arabella, hastily; for if you had stayed in the

room, as I commanded you, I should not have been exposed to the pain of

hearing things so disagreeable.

Since I knew what would be the purport of my father's discourse, said

Mr. Glanville, you ought not to be surprised I could not resolve

to give any interruption to it by my presence: and being so much

interested in the success of his solicitations, I could not choose but

give him an opportunity of speaking to you alone, as he desired.

It seems then, resumed Arabella, you know what was the subject of his

conversation.

I believe I can guess, interrupted Mr. Glanville, smiling.

Is it possible, cried Arabella, starting back in great surprise, that,

knowing, as you say you do, your father's intentions, you would resolve

to furnish him with an opportunity of disclosing them?

Can you blame me, said Mr. Glanville, for suffering him to undertake

what I durst not myself? I know your delicacy, or rather your severity,

so well, that I am sensible, if I had taken the liberty to say what my

father has said, you would have been extremely offended; and punished

me as you have often done, with a banishment from your presence.

Nay, pursued he, seeing astonishment and anger in her countenance, I

perceive you are, at this moment, going to pronounce some terrible

sentence against me.

You are deceived, said Arabella, with a forced calmness; I am so far

from being offended with you, that I am ready to acknowledge, you merit

very extraordinary praises for the perfect resignation you show to

the will, and for your credit, I will suppose, the commands, of your

father: but I would advise you to be contented with the reputation of

being a dutiful son; and, for the future, never aspire to that of being

a faithful lover.

Speaking these words, which were wholly unintelligible to her amazed

admirer, she left him, and went to her own apartment, strangely

surprised at the indifference of Mr. Glanville; who, as she understood

what he had said, was not only willing to resign her to his father, but

also took upon him to mediate in his behalf.

As she was unwilling to acknowledge, even to herself, that the grief

she felt at this discovery proceeded from any affection for her cousin,

she imputed it to the shame of seeing herself so basely forsaken

and neglected; and, not being able to find a precedent for such an

indignity offered to the charms of any lady in her romances, the

singularity of her fate, in this respect, seemed to demand all her

uneasiness.

Chapter VIII.

_Which contains some necessary consequences of the foregoing mistakes.

A soliloquy on a love-letter._

While Arabella passed her time in her closet, in the most disagreeable

reflections, Glanville was racking his brain to find out the meaning of

those mysterious words she had uttered at leaving him. He examined them

twenty times over, but could not possibly penetrate into their sense;

but supposing at last, that they really meant nothing at all, or were

occasioned by some new flight of her imagination, he went to find out

his father, in order to know what had passed between him and Arabella.

Sir Charles, however, was not to be found: he had ordered his horse to

be made ready, under pretence of taking a little ride after dinner;

and, passing by Sir George's house, alighted to pay him a visit.

The young baronet, being at home, received him with great politeness:

and Sir Charles, whose peculiar disposition was to be nicely tenacious

of every thing which he imagined had any relation to the honour of

his family, took the first opportunity to question him concerning the

confusion his whisper had occasioned in Lady Bella; adding, that she

had confessed he had given her reason to take ill what he had said to

her.

Sir George, who was by no means willing to quarrel with the uncle of

Arabella, received the old gentleman's remonstrances with a great deal

of calmness; and, finding Arabella had not discovered the purport of

that whisper which had offended her, he told Sir Charles that the

confusion he saw in her countenance was occasioned by his rallying her

upon the fright she had been in upon Mr. Glanville's account. He added

some other particulars, that, entirely taking away all inclination in

Sir Charles to pursue the matter any farther, they parted upon very

good terms; Sir George promising, very soon, to return his visit at the

castle.

Mr. Glanville, upon his father's return, being impatient to know

what he had said to Arabella, enquired with so much precipitation,

concerning the conversation they had had together, that Sir Charles,

unwilling to tell him the truth, and not having time to consider of

an answer, evaded his question in such a manner, that Mr. Glanville

could not help making some observation upon it; and, comparing

this circumstance with what Arabella had said, though he could not

comprehend the meaning that seemed to be concealed under their

behaviour, he immediately concluded, there was some mystery which it

concerned him to find out.

Possessed with this opinion, he longed for an opportunity to talk with

Arabella alone. But he was not so happy to obtain one; for, though that

fair-one presided at the tea-table, as usual, and also appeared at

supper, yet she so industriously avoided all occasions of being alone

with him, though but for a moment, and appeared so reserved and uneasy,

that it was impossible for him to speak to her upon that subject.

As soon as it was time to retire, having resolved to request the favour

of a few moments' conversation with her, in her own apartment; and when

he had, as was his custom, handed her up stairs; instead of wishing her

a good night at her chamber door, he was going to desire permission to

enter it with her; when Lucy, coming to meet her lady, whispered her

in the ear; upon which Arabella, turning towards him, gave him a hasty

salute, and hurried into her apartment.

Glanville, no less vexed at this disappointment, than perplexed at that

whisper, which had caused such a visible emotion in Arabella, retired

to his own room, tormented with a thousand uneasy suspicions, for which

he could not exactly assign a cause; and wishing impatiently for the

next day, in which he hoped to procure some explanation of what at

present greatly perplexed him.

In the mean time, Arabella, who had been informed by Lucy, in that

whisper, who was eager to let her know it, that a messenger had brought

a letter from Sir George, and, late as it was at night, waited for an

answer, was debating with herself, whether she should open this billet

or not. She had a strong inclination to see what it contained; but,

fearful of transgressing the laws of romance, by indulging a curiosity

not justifiable by example, she resolved to return this letter unopened.

Here, said she to Lucy, give this letter to the messenger that brought

it; and tell him, I was excessively offended with you for receiving it

from his hands.

Lucy, taking the letter, was going to obey her orders; when,

recollecting herself, she bid her stay.

Since Sir George, said she to herself, is no declared lover of mine, I

may, without any offence to decorum, see what this letter contains. To

refuse receiving it, will be to acknowledge, that his sentiments are

not unknown to me; and, by consequence, to lay myself under a necessity

of banishing him: nor is it fit that I should allow him to believe I am

so ready to apprehend the meaning of every gallant speech which is used

to me; and to construe such insinuations as he took the liberty to make

me, into declarations of love.

Allowing, therefore, the justice of these reasons, she took the letter

out of Lucy's hand; and, being upon the point of opening it, a sudden

thought controlled her designs: she threw it suddenly upon her toilet;

and, looking very earnestly upon it--

Presumptuous paper! said she, speaking with great emotion to the

letter: Bold repository of thy master's daring thoughts! Shall I not

be blamed by all who hereafter will hear or read my history, if,

contrary to the apprehensions I have, that thou containest a confession

that will displease me, I open thy seal, and become accessary to

thy writer's guilt, by deigning to make myself acquainted with it?

And thou, too indiscreet and unwary friend, whose folds contain the

acknowledgment of his crime! What will it advantage thee or him, if,

torn by my resenting hand, I make thee suffer for the part thou bearest

in thy master's fault; and teach him, by thy fate, how little kindness

he has to expect from me! Yet, to spare myself the trouble of reading

what will, questionless, greatly displease me, I will return thee,

uninjured, into thy master's hands; and, by that moderation, make him

repent the presumption he has been guilty of!

Chapter IX.

_Containing a love-letter in the heroic style; with some occasional

reasonings by Lucy, full of wit and simplicity._

Our fair heroine, having ended the foregoing soliloquy, took up the

letter, and gave it to Lucy, who had, all the time she was speaking,

observed a profound silence, mixed with a most eager attention.

Here, pursued she, carry it to the person who brought it; and bid him

tell his master, that, lest I should find any thing in it which may

offend me, I have chosen not to read it: and, if he is wise, he will

profit by my concern for him, and take care how he hazards displeasing

me a second time by an importunity of this kind, which I shall not so

easily pardon him.

Lucy, who had taken particular notice of this speech, in order to

remember every word of it, when she repeated it again, went conning

her lesson to the place where she had desired the servant to wait her

coming: but he was gone; such being indeed his master's orders; for he

was apprehensive that, following the custom of the ladies in romances,

Arabella would return his letter; and therefore, to deprive her of an

opportunity of sending it back that night, he ordered his man to say,

he waited for an answer; but, as soon as he conveniently could, to come

away without one.

Lucy, in a great surprise at the servant's going away, returned to her

lady with the letter in her hand, telling her she must needs read it

now, since the person who brought it was gone.

It must be confessed, said Arabella, taking the letter from her, with

a smile, he has fallen upon an ingenious device to make me keep it for

this night; and since, haply, I may be mistaken in the contents, I have

a mind to open it.

Lucy did not fail to confirm her lady in this design: and Arabella,

making as if she yielded to the importunities of her confidante, opened

the letter; which she found as follows:

"THE UNFORTUNATE AND DESPAIRING BELLMOUR, TO THE DIVINE

ARABELLA.

"MADAM,

Since it is, doubtless, not only with your permission,

but even by your commands, that your uncle, Sir Charles

Glanville, comes to pronounce the sentence of my death,

in the denunciation of your anger, I submit, madam,

without repining at the rigour of that doom you have

inflicted on me. Yes, madam, this criminal, who has

dared to adore you with the most sublime and perfect

passion that ever was, acknowledges the justice of his

punishment; and, since it is impossible to cease loving

you, or to live without telling you he does so, he is

going voluntarily to run upon that death your severity

makes him wish for, and the greatness of his crime

demands. Let my death then, O divine Arabella, expiate

the offence I have been guilty of! And let me hope those

fair eyes, that have beheld me with scorn when alive,

will not refuse to shed some tears upon my tomb! And

that, when you remember my crime of loving you, you will

also be pleased to remember that I died for that crime;

and wish for no other comfort in death, but the hope of

your not hating, when he is no more, the unhappy

"BELLMOUR."

Arabella, who had read this letter aloud, sighed gently at the

conclusion of it; but poor Lucy, who was greatly affected at so

dolorous an epistle, could not restrain her tears; but sobbed so often,

and with so much violence, as at length recalled her lady from the

reverie into which she was plunged.

What ails you? said she to her confidante, greatly surprised. What is

the cause of this unseemly sorrow?

Oh, madam! cried Lucy, her sobs making a frequent and unpleasing

interruption in her words; I shall break my heart to be sure. Never

was such a sad mournful letter in the world: I could cry my eyes out

for the poor gentleman. Pray excuse me, madam; but, indeed, I can't

help saying you are the most hard-heartedest lady I ever knew in my

born days. Why, to be sure, you don't care if an hundred fine gentlemen

should die for you, though their spirits were to haunt you every night!

Well! I would not have what your ladyship has to answer for, for all

the world!

You are a foolish wench! replied Arabella, smiling at her simplicity.

Do you think I have any cause to accuse myself, though five thousand

men were to die for me! It is very certain my beauty has produced very

deplorable effects: the unhappy Hervey has expiated, by his death, the

violence his too-desperate passion forced him to meditate against me:

the no less guilty, the noble unknown Edward, is wandering about the

world, in a tormenting despair; and stands exposed to the vengeance

of my cousin, who has vowed his death. My charms have made another

person, whose character ought to be sacred to me, forget all the ties

of consanguinity; and become the rival of his son, whose interest he

once endeavoured to support: and lastly, the unfortunate Bellmour

consumes away in an hopeless passion; and, conscious of his crime,

dooms himself, haply, with more severity than I desire, to a voluntary

death; in hopes, thereby, of procuring my pardon and compassion when

he is no more. All these, Lucy, as I said before, are very deplorable

effects of my beauty; but you must observe, that my will has no part

in the miseries that unfortunate beauty occasions; and that, though

I could even wish myself less fair, in order to avoid giving so much

unhappiness to others, yet these wishes would not avail; and since, by

a fatal necessity, all these things will happen, whether I would or no,

I must comfort myself under the uneasiness which the sensibility of my

temper makes me feel, by the reflection, that, with my own consent, I

contribute nothing to the misfortune of those who love me.

Will your ladyship, then, let poor Sir George die? said Lucy, who had

listened very attentively to this fine harangue without understanding

what it meant.

Questionless, he must die, replied Arabella, if he persists in his

design of loving me.

But, pray, madam, resumed Lucy, cannot your ladyship command him to

live, as you did Mr. Hervey and Mr. Glanville, who both did as you bade

them?

I may command him to live, said Arabella; and there is no question but

he would obey me, if I likewise permit him to love me; but this last

not being fit for me to do, I see no way to prevent the sad resolution

he has taken.

To be sure, madam, returned Lucy, your ladyship knows what you ought

to do better than I can advise your ladyship, being that you are more

learned than me: but, for all that, I think it's better to save life

than to kill, as the Bible book says; and since I am sure your ladyship

is a good Christian, if the gentleman dies for the want of a few kind

words, or so, I am sure you will be troubled in mind about it.

It must be confessed, said Arabella, smiling, that though your

solicitations are not very eloquent, they are very earnest and

affecting; and I promise you I will think about it: and, if I can

persuade myself I am doing no wrong thing by concerning myself about

his preservation, I will dispatch you to-morrow morning, with my orders

to him to live, or at least to proceed no farther in his design of

dying, till he has further cause.

Lucy, being extremely glad she had gained her point, called in her

lady's other women, who, having assisted her to undress, left her in

her closet, to which she always retired for an hour before she went to

bed.

VOLUME II.

BOOK V.

Chapter I.

_A dispute very learnedly handled by two ladies, in which the reader

may take what part he pleases._

Mr. Glanville, who was too much in love to pass the night with any

great degree of tranquillity, under the apprehensions he felt; it

being the nature of that passion to magnify the most inconsiderable

trifles into things of the greatest importance, when they concern

the beloved object; did not fail to torment himself with a thousand

different fears, which the mysterious behaviour of his father, and

the more mysterious words of his mistress, gave rise to. Among many

various conjectures, all equally unreasonable, he fixed upon one no way

advantageous to Sir Charles; for, supposing that the folly of Arabella

had really disgusted him, and made him desirous of breaking off the

designed match between them; he was, as he thought, taking measures to

bring this about, knowing, that if Lady Bella refused to fulfil her

father's desire in this particular, a very considerable estate would

descend to him.

Upon any other occasion, Mr. Glanville would not have suspected his

father of so ungenerous an action; but lovers think every thing

possible which they fear; and being prepossessed with this opinion,

he resolved the next morning to sound his father's inclinations by

entreating him to endeavour to prevail upon Lady Bella to marry him

before her year of mourning for the marquis was expired.

Attending him, therefore, at breakfast, in his own chamber, he made his

designed request, not without heedfully observing his countenance at

the same time; and trembling, lest he should make him an answer, that

might confirm his uneasy suspicion.

Sir Charles, however, agreeably surprised him, by promising to comply

with his desire that day; for, added he, though my niece has some odd

ways, yet upon the whole, she is a very accomplished woman: and, when

you are her husband, you may probably find the means of curing her of

those little follies, which at present are conspicuous enough; but

being occasioned by a country education, and a perfect ignorance of the

world, the instruction which then you will not scruple to give her,

and which, from a husband, without any offence to her delicacy she may

receive, may reform her conduct, and make her behaviour as complete as,

it must be confessed, both her person and mind now are.

Mr. Glanville having acquiesced in the justice of this remark, as soon

as breakfast was over, went to visit the two ladies, who generally

drank their chocolate together.

Miss Glanville being then in Lady Bella's apartment, he was immediately

admitted, where he found them engaged in a high dispute; and, much

against his will, was obliged to be arbitrator in the affair, they

having, upon his entrance, both appealed to him.

But, in order to place this momentous affair in a true light, it is

necessary to go back a little, and acquaint the reader with what had

passed in the apartment; and also, following the custom of the romance

and novel-writers, in the heart of our heroine.

No sooner were her fair eyes open in the morning, than the unfortunate

Sir George presenting himself to her imagination, her thoughts, to use

Scudery's phrase, were at a cruel war with each other: she wished to

prevent the death of this obsequious lover; but she could not resolve

to preserve his life, by giving him that hope he required; and without

which, she feared, it would be impossible for him to live.

After pondering a few hours upon the necessity of his case, and what

a just regard to her own honour required of her, decorum prevailed

so much over compassion, that she resolved to abandon the miserable

Sir George to all the rigour of his destiny; when, happily for the

disconsolate lover, the history of the fair Amalazontha coming into

her mind, she remembered, that this haughty princess, having refused

to marry the person her father recommended to her, because he had not

a crown upon his head; nevertheless, when he was dying for love of

her, condescended to visit him, and even to give him a little hope, in

order to preserve his life: she conceived it could be no blemish to her

character, if she followed the example of this most glorious princess;

and suffered herself to relax a little in her severity, to prevent the

effects of her lover's despair.

Fear not, Arabella, said she to herself; fear not to obey the dictates

of thy compassion, since the glorious Amalazontha justifies, by her

example, the means thou wilt use to preserve a noble life, which

depends upon a few words thou shalt utter.

When she had taken this resolution, she rung her bell for her women;

and as soon as she was dressed, she dismissed them all but Lucy, whom

she ordered to bring her paper and pens, telling her she would write an

answer to Sir George's letter.

Lucy obeyed with great joy; but by that time she had brought her

lady all the materials for writing, her mind was changed; she having

reflected, that Amalazontha, whose example, in order to avoid the

censure of future ages, she was resolved exactly to follow, did not

write to Ambiomer, but paid him a visit, she resolved to do the like;

and therefore bade Lucy take them away again, telling her she had

thought better of it, and would not write to him.

Lucy, extremely concerned at this resolution, obeyed her very slowly,

and with great seeming regret.

I perceive, said Arabella, you are afraid I shall abandon the

unfortunate man you solicit for, to the violence of his despair; but

though I do not intend to write to him, yet I'll make use of a method,

perhaps as effectual; for, to speak truly, I mean to make him a visit;

his fever I suppose being violent enough by this time to make him keep

his bed.

And will you be so good, madam, said Lucy, to go and see the poor

gentleman? I'll warrant you, he will be ready to die with joy when he

sees you.

It is probable what you say may happen, replied Arabella; but there

must be proper precautions used to prevent those consequences which

the sudden and unexpected sight of me may produce. Those about him, I

suppose, will have discretion enough for that: therefore give orders

for the coach to be made ready, and tell my women they must attend

me; and be sure you give them directions, when I enter Sir George's

chamber, to stay at a convenient distance, in order to leave me an

opportunity of speaking to him, without being heard. As for you, you

may approach the bed-side with me; since, being my confidante, you may

hear all we have to say.

Arabella having thus settled the ceremonial of her visit, according to

the rules prescribed by romances, sat down to her tea-table, having

sent to know if Miss Glanville was up, and received for answer, that

she would attend her at breakfast.

Arabella, who had at first determined to say nothing of this affair

to her cousin, could not resist the desire she had of talking upon a

subject so interesting; and, telling her with a smile, that she was

about to make a very charitable visit that morning, asked her, if she

was disposed to bear her company in it.

I know you country ladies, said Miss Glanville, are very fond of

visiting your sick neighbours: for my part, I do not love such a grave

kind of amusement; yet, for the sake of the airing, I shall be very

willing to attend you.

I think, said Arabella, with a more serious air than before, it behoves

every generous person to compassionate the misfortunes of their

acquaintance and friends, and to relieve them as far as lies in their

power; but those miseries we ourselves occasion to others, demand, in a

more particular manner, our pity; and, if consistent with honour, our

relief.

And pray, returned Miss Glanville, who is it you have done any mischief

to, which you are to repair by this charitable visit, as you call it?

The mischief I have done, replied Arabella, blushing, and casting down

her eyes, was not voluntary, I assure you: yet I will not scruple to

repair it, if I can; though, since my power is confined by certain

unavoidable laws, my endeavours may not haply have all the success I

could wish.

Well, but, dear cousin, interrupted Miss Glanville, tell me in plain

English, what this mischief is, which you have done; and to what

purpose you are going out this morning?

I am going to pay a visit to Sir George Bellmour, replied Arabella;

and I entreat you, fair cousin, to pardon me for robbing you of so

accomplished a lover. I really always thought he was in love with you,

till I was undeceived by some words he spoke yesterday; and a letter

I received from him last night, in which he has been bold enough to

declare his passion to me, and, through the apprehension of my anger,

is this moment dying with grief; and it is to reconcile him to life,

that I have prevailed upon myself to make him a visit; in which

charitable design, as I said before, I should be glad of your company.

Miss Glanville, who believed not a word Lady Bella had said, burst out

a-laughing at a speech that appeared to her so extremely false and

ridiculous.

I see, said Arabella, you are of a humour to divert yourself with the

miseries of a despairing lover; and in this particular you greatly

resemble the fair and witty Doralisa, who always jested at such

maladies as are occasioned by love. However, this insensibility does

not become you so well as her, since all her conduct was conformable to

it, no man in the world being bold enough to talk to her of love; but

you, cousin, are ready, even by your own confession, to listen to such

discourses from any body; and therefore this behaviour, in you, may be

with more justice termed levity, than indifference.

I perceive, cousin, said Miss Glanville, I have always the worst of

those comparisons you are pleased to make between me and other people;

but, I assure you, as free and indiscreet as you think me, I should

very much scruple to visit a man upon any occasion whatever.

I am quite astonished, Miss Glanville, resumed Arabella, to hear you

assume a character of so much severity; you who have granted favours of

a kind in a very great degree criminal.

Favours! interrupted Miss Glanville, criminal favours! Pray explain

yourself, madam.

Yes, cousin, said Arabella, I repeat it again; criminal favours, such

as allowing persons to talk to you of love; not forbidding them to

write to you; giving them opportunities of being alone with you for

several moments together; and several other civilities of the like

nature, which no man can possibly merit, under many years' services,

fidelity, and pains. All these are criminal favours, and highly

blameable in a lady who has any regard for her reputation.

All these, replied Miss Glanville, are nothing in comparison of making

them visits; and no woman, who has any reputation at all, will be

guilty of taking such liberties.

What, miss! replied Arabella, will you dare, by this insinuation, to

cast any censures upon the virtue of the divine Mandana, the haughty

Amalazontha, the fair Statira, the cold and rigid Parisatis, and many

other illustrious ladies, who did not scruple to visit their lovers,

when confined to their beds, either by the wounds they received in

battle, or the more cruel and dangerous ones they suffered from their

eyes? These chaste ladies, who never granted a kiss of their hand to

a lover, till he was upon the point of being their husband, would

nevertheless most charitably condescend to approach their bed-side, and

speak some compassionate words to them, in order to promote their cure,

and make them submit to live; nay, these divine beauties would not

refuse to grant the same favour to persons whom they did not love, to

prevent the fatal consequences of their despair.

Lord, madam! interrupted Miss Glanville, I wonder you can talk so

blasphemously, to call a parcel of confident creatures divine, and such

terrible words.

Do you know, miss, said Arabella, with a stern look, that it is of the

greatest princesses that ever were, whom you speak in this irreverent

manner? Is it possible that you can be ignorant of the sublime quality

of Mandana, who was the heiress of two powerful kingdoms? Are you not

sensible, that Amalazontha was queen of Turringia? And will you pretend

to deny the glorious extraction of Statira and Parisatis, princesses of

Persia?

I shall not trouble myself to deny any thing about them, madam, said

Miss Glanville; for I never heard of them before; and really I do not

choose to be always talking of queens and princesses, as if I thought

none but such great people were worthy my notice: it looks so affected,

I should imagine every one laughed at me that heard me.

Since you are so very scrupulous, returned Arabella, that you dare

not imitate the sublimest among mortals, I can furnish you with many

examples, from the conduct of persons whose quality was not much

superior to yours, which may reconcile you to an action, you at

present, with so little reason, condemn: and to name but one among some

thousands, the fair Cleonice, the most rigid and austere beauty in

all Sardis, paid several visits to the passionate Ligdamis, when his

melancholy, at the ill success of his passion, threw him into a fever,

that confined him to his bed.

And pray, madam, who was that Cleonice? said Miss Glanville: and where

did she live?

In Sardis, I tell you, said Arabella, in the kingdom of Lydia.

Oh! then it is not in our kingdom, said Miss Glanville: what signifies

what foreigners do? I shall never form my conduct upon the example of

outlandish people; what is common enough in their countries would be

very particular here; and you can never persuade me, that it is seemly

for ladies to pay visits to men in their beds.

A lady, said Arabella, extremely angry at her cousin's obstinacy, who

will suffer men to press her hand, write to her, and talk to her of

love, ought to be ashamed of such an affected niceness as that you

pretend to.

I insist upon it, madam, said Miss Glanville, that all those innocent

liberties you rail at may be taken by any woman without giving the

world room to censure her: but, without being very bold and impudent,

she cannot go to see men in their beds; a freedom that only becomes a

sister or near relation.

So then, replied Arabella, reddening with vexation, you will persist in

affirming the divine Mandana was impudent?

If she made such indiscreet visits as those, she was, said Miss

Glanville.

Oh, heavens! cried Arabella, have I lived to hear the most illustrious

princess that ever was in the world so shamefully reflected on?

Bless me, madam! said Miss Glanville, what reason have you to defend

the character of this princess so much? She will hardly thank you for

your pains, I fancy.

Were you acquainted with the character of that most generous princess,

said Arabella, you would be convinced that she was sensible of the

smallest benefits; but it is not with a view of acquiring her favour,

that I defend her against your inhuman aspersions, since it is more

than two thousand years since she died; yet common justice obliges me

to vindicate a person so illustrious for her birth and virtue; and were

you not my cousin, I should express my resentment in another manner,

for the injury you do her.

Truly, said Miss Glanville, I am not much obliged to you, madam, for

not downright quarrelling with me for one that has been in her grave

two thousand years. However, nothing shall make me change my opinion,

and I am sure most people will be of my side of the argument.

That moment Mr. Glanville sending for permission to wait upon Arabella,

she ordered him to be admitted, telling Miss Glanville, she would

acquaint her brother with the dispute: to which she consented.

Chapter II.

_Which inculcates, by a very good example, that a person ought not to

be too hasty in deciding a question he does not perfectly understand._

You are come very opportunely, sir, said Arabella, when he entered the

room, to be judge of a great controversy between Miss Glanville and

myself. I beseech you therefore, let us have your opinion upon the

matter.

Miss Glanville maintains, that it is less criminal in a lady to hear

persons talk to her of love, allow them to kiss her hand, and permit

them to write to her, than to make a charitable visit to a man who is

confined to his bed through the violence of his passion and despair;

the intent of this visit being only to prevent the death of an

unfortunate lover, and, if necessary, to lay her commands upon him to

live.

And this latter is your opinion, is it not madam? said Mr. Glanville.

Certainly, sir, replied Arabella, and in this I am justified by all the

heroines of antiquity.

Then you must be in the right, madam, returned Mr. Glanville, both

because your own judgment tells you so, and also the example of these

heroines you mention.

Well, madam, interrupted Miss Glanville hastily, since my brother has

given sentence on your side, I hope you will not delay your visit to

Sir George any longer.

How! said Mr. Glanville, surprised: is Lady Bella going to visit Sir

George? Pray, madam, may I presume to enquire the reason for your doing

him this extraordinary favour?

You are not very wise, said Arabella, looking gravely upon Miss

Glanville, to discover a thing which may haply create a quarrel between

your brother and the unfortunate person you speak of: yet since this

indiscretion cannot be recalled, we must endeavour to prevent the

consequences of it.

I assure you, madam, interrupted Mr. Glanville, extremely impatient

to know the meaning of these hints, you have nothing to fear from me:

therefore you need not think yourself under any necessity of concealing

this affair from me.

You are not, haply, so moderate as you pretend, said Arabella, (who

would not have been displeased to have seen him in all the jealous

transports of an enraged Orontes); but whatever ensues, I can no longer

keep from your knowledge a truth your sister has begun to discover;

but in telling you what you desire to know, I expect you will suppress

all inclinations to revenge, and trust the care of your interest to my

generosity.

You are to know, then, that in the person of your friend Sir George,

you have a rival, haply the more to be feared, as his passion is no

less respectful than violent. I possibly tell you more than I ought,

pursued she, blushing, and casting down her eyes, when I confess, that

for certain considerations, wherein perhaps you are concerned, I have

received the first insinuation of this passion with disdain enough; and

I assure myself that you are too generous to desire any revenge upon a

miserable rival, of whom death is going to free you.

Then, taking Sir George's letter out of her cabinet, she presented it

to Mr. Glanville.

Read this, added she; but read it without suffering yourself to be

transported with any violent motions of anger: and as in fight I am

persuaded you would not oppress a fallen and vanquished foe, so in love

I may hope an unfortunate rival will merit your compassion.

Never doubt it, madam, replied Mr. Glanville, receiving the letter,

which Miss Glanville, with a beating heart, earnestly desired to hear

read. Her brother, after asking permission of Arabella, prepared to

gratify her curiosity; but he no sooner read the first sentence, than,

notwithstanding all his endeavours, a smile appeared in his face;

and Miss Glanville, less able, and indeed less concerned to restrain

her mirth at the uncommon style, burst out a-laughing, with so much

violence, as obliged her brother to stop, and counterfeit a terrible

fit of coughing, in order to avoid giving Arabella the like offence.

The astonishment of this lady, at the surprising and unexpected effect

her lover's letter produced on Miss Glanville, kept her in a profound

silence, her eyes wandering from the sister to the brother; who,

continuing his cough, was not able for some moments to go on with his

reading.

Arabella, during this interval, having recovered herself a little,

asked Miss Glanville, if she found any thing in a lover's despair

capable of diverting her so much, as she seemed to be with that of the

unfortunate Sir George?

My sister, madam, said Mr. Glanville, preventing her reply, knows so

many of Sir George's infidelities, that she cannot persuade herself

he is really in such a dangerous way as he insinuates: therefore you

ought not to be surprised, if she is rather disposed to laugh at this

epistle, than to be moved with any concern for the writer, who, though

he is my rival, I must say, appears to be in a deplorable condition.

Pray, sir, resumed Arabella, a little composed by those words, finish

the letter: your sister may possibly find more cause for pity than

contempt, in the latter part of it.

Mr. Glanville, giving a look to his sister sufficient to make her

comprehend that he would have her restrain her mirth for the future,

proceeded in his reading; but every line increasing his strong

inclination to laugh, when he came to the pathetic wish, that her fair

eyes might shed some tears upon his tomb, no longer able to keep his

assumed gravity, he threw down the letter in a counterfeited rage.

Curse the stupid fellow! cried he: is he mad, to call the finest black

eyes in the universe, fair? Ah! cousin, said he to Arabella, he must

be little acquainted with the influence of your eyes, since he can so

egregiously mistake their colour.

And it is very plain, replied Arabella, that you are little acquainted

with the sublime language in which he writes, since you find fault with

an epithet which marks the beauty, not the colour, of those eyes he

praises; for, in fine, fair is indifferently applied, as well to black

and brown eyes, as to light and blue ones, when they are either really

lovely in themselves, or by the lover's imagination created so; and

therefore, since Sir George's prepossession has made him see charms in

my eyes, which questionless are not there; by calling them fair he has

very happily expressed himself, since therein he has the sanction of

those great historians who wrote the histories of lovers he seems to

imitate, as well in his actions as style.

I find my rival is very happy in your opinion, madam, said Mr.

Glanville; and I am apt to believe, I shall have more reason to envy

than pity his situation.

If you keep within the bounds I prescribe you, replied Arabella, you

shall have no reason to envy his situation; but, considering the

condition to which his despair has by this time certainly reduced him,

humanity requires that we should take some care of him; and to show you

how great my opinion of your generosity is, I will even entreat you to

accompany me in the visit I am going to make him.

Mr. Glanville, being determined, if possible, to prevent her exposing

herself, affected to be extremely moved at this request; and rising

from his chair in great seeming agitation, traversed the room for some

moments, without speaking a word: then suddenly stopping--

And can you, madam, said he, looking upon Arabella, suppose that I

will consent to your visiting my rival; and that I will be mean enough

to attend you myself to his house? Do you think that Orontes you have

often reproached me with, would act in such a manner?

I don't know how Orontes would have acted in this case, said Arabella;

because it never happened that such a proof of his submission was ever

desired of him; but considering that he was of a very fiery and jealous

disposition, it is probable he might act as you do.

I always understood, madam, said Mr. Glanville, that Orontes was a

favourite of yours; but it seems I was mistaken.

You will be very unjust, said Arabella, to draw any unfavourable

conclusion from what I have said, to the prejudice of that valiant

prince, for whom I confess I have a great esteem; and truly whoever

reflects upon the great actions he did in the wars between the Amazons

and the fierce Naobarzanes king of the Cilicians, must needs conceive

a very high idea of his virtue; but if I cannot bring the example of

Orontes to influence you in the present case, I can mention those of

other persons, no less illustrious for their birth and courage than

him. Did not the brave Memnon, when his rival Oxyatres was sick,

entreat the beautiful Barsina to favour him with a visit? And the

complaisant husband of the divine Parisatis was not contented with

barely desiring her to visit Lysimachus, who was dying with despair at

her marriage, but would many times bring her himself to the bed-side of

this unfortunate lover, and, leaving her there, give him an opportunity

of telling her what he suffered for her sake.

I am afraid, madam, said Mr. Glanville, I shall never be capable of

imitating either the brave Memnon, or the complaisant Lysimachus, in

this case; and the humour of Orontes seems to me the most commendable.

Nevertheless, said Arabella, the humour of Orontes cost him an infinite

number of pains; and it may happen, you will as near resemble him

in his fortune as you do in his disposition: but pray let us end

this dispute at present. If you are not generous enough to visit an

unfortunate rival, you shall not put a stop to the charity of my

intentions; and since Miss Glanville is all of a sudden become so

severe, that she will not accompany me in this visit, I shall be

contented with the attendance of my women.

Saying this, she rose from her seat, calling Lucy, and ordered her to

bid her companions attend.

Mr. Glanville, seeing her thus determined, was almost mad with vexation.

Upon my soul, madam, said he, seizing her hand, you must not go.

How, sir! said Arabella, sternly.

Not without seeing me die first, resumed he, in a languishing tone.

You must not die, replied Arabella, gravely, nor must you pretend to

hinder me from going.

Nay, madam, said Glanville, one of these two things will certainly

happen: either you must resolve not to visit Sir George, or else be

contented to see me die at your feet.

Was ever any lady in so cruel a dilemma? said Arabella, throwing

herself into the chair in a languishing posture: what can I do to

prevent the fate of two persons, one of whom I infinitely pity, and the

other, obstinate as he is, I cannot hate? Shall I resolve to let the

miserable Bellmour die, rather than grant him a favour the most rigid

virtue would not refuse him? Or shall I, by opposing the impetuous

humour of a lover, to whom I am somewhat obliged, make myself the

author of his death? Fatal necessity! which obliges me either to be

cruel or unjust; and, with a disposition to neither, makes me, in some

degree, guilty of both.

Chapter III.

_In which our heroine is in some little confusion._

While Arabella was uttering this pathetic complaint, Mr. Glanville,

with great difficulty, kept himself from smiling; and, by some

supplicating looks to his sister, prevented her laughing out; yet she

giggled in secret behind her fan: but Arabella was so lost in her

melancholy reflections, that she kept her eyes immoveably fixed on

the ground for some moments: at last, casting an upbraiding glance at

Glanville--

Is it possible, cruel person that you are? said she to him, that you

can, without pity, see me suffer so much uneasiness; and knowing the

sensibility of my temper, can expose me to the grief of being accessary

to the death of an unfortunate man, guilty indeed of a too violent

passion, which merits a gentler punishment than that you doom him to?

Don't be uneasy, dear cousin, interrupted Miss Glanville: I dare assure

you Sir George won't die.

It is impossible to think that, said Arabella, since he has not so much

as received a command from me to live. But tell me truly, pursued she,

do you believe it probable, that he will obey me, and live?

Indeed, Madam, said Miss Glanville, I could swear for him that he will.

Well, replied Arabella, I will content myself with sending him my

commands in writing: but it is to be feared they will not have so much

efficacy upon his spirit.

Mr. Glanville, extremely pleased that she had laid aside her design of

visiting Sir George, did not oppose her writing to him, though he was

plotting how to prevent the letter reaching his hands; and while she

went into her closet to write, he conferred with his sister upon the

means he should use; expressing, at the same time, great resentment

against Sir George, for endeavouring to supplant him in his cousin's

affection.

What then, said Miss Glanville, do you really imagine Sir George is in

love with Lady Bella?

He is either in love with her person or estate, replied Mr. Glanville,

or perhaps with both; for she is handsome enough to gain a lover of his

merit, though she had no fortune; and she has fortune enough to do it,

though she had no beauty.

My cousin is well enough, to be sure, said Miss Glanville; but I never

could think her a beauty.

If, replied Mr. Glanville, a most lovely complexion, regular features,

a fine stature, an elegant shape, and an inexpressible grace in all her

motions, can form a beauty, Lady Bella may pretend to that character

without any dispute.

Though she was all that you say, returned Miss Glanville, I am certain

Sir George is not in love with her.

I wish I was certain of that, replied Mr. Glanville; for it is very

probable you are mistaken.

You may see by this letter, interrupted Miss Glanville, what a jest he

makes of her; and if you had heard how he talked to her the other day

in the garden, you would have died with laughing; yet my poor cousin

thought he was very serious, and was so foolishly pleased!

I assure you, Charlotte, said Mr. Glanville, gravely, I shall take it

very ill, if you make so free with your cousin's little foibles; and if

Sir George presumes to make a jest of her, as you say, I shall teach

him better manners.

You are the strangest creature in the world, said Miss Glanville: a

minute or two ago, you was wishing to be sure he was not in love with

her; and now you are angry, when I assure you he is only in jest.

Arabella, that moment coming out of her closet, broke off their

discourse. I have written to Sir George, said she, addressing herself

to Mr. Glanville; and you are at liberty, if you please, to read my

letter, which I propose to send away immediately.

Mr. Glanville, taking the letter out of her hand, with a low bow, began

to read it to himself; but Arabella, willing his sister should also be

acquainted with the contents, obliged him, much against his will, to

read it aloud. It was as follows:

"ARABELLA, TO BELLMOUR.

"Whatever offence your presumptuous declaration may have

given me, yet my resentment will be appeased with a less

punishment than death: and that grief and submission you

have testified in your letter, may haply have already

procured you pardon for your fault, provided you do not

forfeit it by disobedience.

"I therefore command you to live, and command you by all

that power you have given me over you.

"Remember I require no more of you, than Parisatis

did of Lysimachus, in a more cruel and insupportable

misfortune. Imitate then the obedience and submission

of that illustrious prince; and though you should be as

unfortunate as he, let your courage also be equal to

his; and, like him, be contented with the esteem that is

offered you, since it is all that can be bestowed, by

"ARABELLA."

Mr. Glanville, finding by this epistle, that Arabella did not design

to encourage the addresses of Sir George, would not have been against

his receiving it, had he not feared the consequence of his having such

a convincing proof of the peculiarity of her temper in his possession;

and while he kept the letter in his hand, as if he wanted to consider

it a little better, he meditated on the means to prevent its being ever

delivered; and had possibly fixed upon some successful contrivance,

when a servant coming in, to inform the ladies that Sir George was

come to wait on them, put an end to his schemes; and he immediately

ran down to receive him, not being willing to increase, by his stay,

the astonishment and confusion which appeared in the countenance of

Arabella, at hearing a man, whom she had believed and represented to be

dying, was come to pay her a visit.

Chapter IV.

_Where the lady extricates herself out of her former confusion, to the

great astonishment, we will suppose, of the reader._

Miss Glanville, not having so much delicacy as her brother, could not

help exulting a little upon this occasion.

After the terrible fright you have been in, madam, said she, upon Sir

George's account, I wonder you do not rather think it is his ghost than

himself that is come to see us.

There is no question but it is himself that is come, said Arabella,

(who had already reconciled this visit to her first thoughts of him);

and it is, haply, to execute his fatal design in my presence, that

has brought him here; and, like the unfortunate Agilmond, he means to

convince me of his fidelity and love, by falling upon his sword before

my eyes.

Bless me, madam, said Miss Glanville, what horrid things come into your

head! I vow you terrify me out of my wits, to hear you.

There is no occasion for your fears, interrupted Arabella: since we

already suspect his designs, it will be very easy to prevent them.

Had the princess of the Sarmatians known the fatal intentions of her

despairing lover, doubtless, she would have used some precautions to

hinder him from executing them; for want of which she saw the miserable

Agilmond weltering in his blood at her feet; and with reason accused

herself of being the cause of so deplorable a spectacle.

The astonishment Miss Glanville was in, to hear her cousin talk in this

manner, kept her from giving her any interruption, while she related

several other terrible instances of despair.

In the mean time, Sir George, who was impatient to go up to Lady

Bella's apartment, having flattered himself into a belief, that his

letter was favourably received; and that he should be permitted to

_hope_ at least; made a short visit to Sir Charles in his own room;

and, accompanied by Mr. Glanville, who was resolved to see in what

manner Arabella received him, went to her apartment.

As he had taken care, at his entrance, to accommodate his looks to the

character he had assumed of an humble despairing lover, Arabella no

sooner saw him, than her countenance changed; and, making a sign to Mr.

Glanville, who could not comprehend what she meant, to seize upon the

guard of his sword, she hastily stepped forward to meet him.

I am too well convinced, said she to Sir George, that the intent of

your coming hither to-day is to commit some violence against yourself

before my eyes: but listen not, I beseech you, to the dictates of

your despair. Live; I command you, live; and since you say I have the

absolute disposal of your life, do not deprive yourself of it, without

the consent of her on whom you profess to have bestowed it.

Sir George, who did not imagine Arabella would communicate his

letter to her cousins, and only expected some distant hints from her

concerning it, was so confounded at this reception before them, that he

was not able to reply. He blushed, and turned pale alternately; and,

not daring to look either upon Miss Glanville or her brother, or to

meet the eyes of the fair visionary, who with great impatience expected

his answer, he hung down his head, in a very silly posture; and, by his

silence, confirmed Arabella in her opinion.

As he did not want for wit and assurance, during that interval of

silence and expectation from all parties, his imagination suggested to

him the means of extricating himself out of the ridiculous perplexity

he was in; and as it concerned him greatly to avoid any quarrel with

the brother and sister, he determined to turn the whole matter into a

jest; but, if possible, to manage it so that Arabella should not enter

into his meaning.

Raising therefore his eyes, and looking upon Arabella with a melancholy

air--

You are not deceived, madam, said he: this criminal, with whom you are

so justly offended, comes with an intention to die at your feet, and

breathe out his miserable life, to expiate those crimes of which you

accuse him: but since your severe compassion will oblige me to live, I

obey, O most divine, but cruel Arabella! I obey your harsh commands;

and, by endeavouring to live, give you a more convincing proof of that

respect and submission I shall always have for your will.

I expected no less from your courage and generosity, said Arabella,

with a look of great complacency; and since you so well know how to

imitate the great Lysimachus in your obedience, I shall be no less

acknowledging than the fair Parisatis; but will have for you an esteem

equal to that virtue I have observed in you.

Sir George, having received this gracious promise with a most profound

bow, turned to Mr. Glanville, with a kind of chastened smile upon his

countenance.

And you, fortunate and deserving knight, said he, happy in the

affections of the fairest person in the world! grudge me not this small

alleviation of my misfortunes; and envy me not that esteem which alone

is able to make me suffer life, while you possess, in the heart of

the divine Arabella, a felicity that might be envied by the greatest

monarchs in the world.

As diverting as this scene was, Mr. Glanville was extremely uneasy:

for though Sir George's stratagem took, and he believed he was only

indulging the gaiety of his humour by carrying on this farce, yet he

could not endure he should divert himself at Arabella's expense. The

solemn speech he had made him, did indeed force him to smile; but he

soon assumed a graver look, and told Sir George, in a low voice, that

when he had finished his visit, he should be glad to take a turn with

him in the garden.

Sir George promised to follow him, and Mr. Glanville left the room, and

went into the gardens; where the baronet, having taken a respectful

leave of Arabella, and by a sly glance convinced Miss Glanville he had

sacrificed her cousin to her mirth, went to join her brother.

Mr. Glanville, as soon as he saw him, walked to meet him with a very

reserved air; which Sir George observing, and being resolved to keep up

his humour--

What, inhuman but too-happy lover, said he, what am I to understand by

that cloud upon your brow? Is it possible that thou canst envy me the

small comfort I have received? And, not satisfied with the glorious

advantages thou possessest, wilt thou still deny me that esteem, which

the divine Arabella has been pleased to bestow upon me?

Pray, Sir George, said Mr. Glanville, lay aside this pompous style: I

am not disposed to be merry at present, and have not all the relish for

this kind of wit that you seem to expect. I desired to see you here,

that I might tell you, without witnesses, I take it extremely ill you

should presume to make my cousin the object of your mirth. Lady Bella,

sir, is not a person with whom such liberties ought to be taken: nor

will I, in the double character of her lover and relation, suffer it

from any one whatever.

Cruel fortune! said Sir George, stepping back a little, and lifting

up his eyes, shall I always be exposed to thy persecutions? And must

I, without any apparent cause, behold an enemy in the person of my

friend; who, though, without murmuring, I resign to him the adorable

Arabella, is yet resolved to dispute with me a satisfaction which does

not deprive him of any part of that glorious fortune to which he is

destined? Since it is so, unjust and cruel friend, pursued he, strike

this breast which carries the image of the divine Arabella; but think

not that I will offer to defend myself, or lift my sword against a man

beloved by her.

This is all very fine, returned Mr. Glanville, hardly able to forbear

laughing; but it is impossible, with all your gaiety, to hinder me from

being serious upon this business.

Then be as serious as thou wilt, dear Charles, interrupted Sir George,

provided you will allow me to be gay; and not pretend to infect me with

thy unbecoming gravity.

I have but a few words to say to you, then, sir, replied Mr. Glanville:

either behave with more respect to my cousin; or prepare to give me

satisfaction for the insults you offer her.

Oh! I understand you, sir, said Sir George; and because you have taken

it into your head to be offended at a trifle of no consequence in the

world, I must give you a fair chance to run me through the body! There

is something very foolish, faith, in such an extravagant expectation:

but since custom has made it necessary that a man must venture his soul

and body upon these important occasions, because I will not be out of

the fashion, you shall command me whenever you think fit; though I

shall fight with my schoolfellow with a very ill will, I assure you.

There is no necessity for fighting, said Mr. Glanville, blushing at the

ludicrous light in which the gay baronet had placed his challenge: the

concession I have required is very small, and not worth the contesting

for on your side. Lady Bella's peculiarity, to which you contribute so

much, can afford you, at best but an ill-natured diversion, while it

gives me a real pain; and sure you must acknowledge you are doing me a

very great injury, when you endeavour to confirm a lady, who is to be

my wife, in a behaviour that excites your mirth, and makes her a fit

object for your ridicule and contempt.

You do Lady Bella, a much greater injury than I do, replied Sir George,

by supposing she can ever be an object of ridicule and contempt. I

think very highly of her understanding; and though the bent of her

studies has given her mind a romantic turn, yet the singularity of her

manners is far less disagreeable than the lighter follies of most of

her sex.

But to be absolutely perfect, interrupted Mr. Glanville, I must cure

her of that singularity; and therefore I beg you will not persist in

assuming a behaviour conformable to her romantic ideas; but rather help

me to banish them from her imagination.

Well, replied Sir George, since you no longer threaten, I'll do what

I can to content you; but I must quit my heroics by degrees, and sink

with decency into my own character; otherwise she will never endure me

in her presence.

Arabella and Miss Glanville appearing in the walk, broke off the

conversation. The baronet and Mr. Glanville walked forward to meet

them; but Arabella, who did not desire company, struck into another

walk, whither Mr. Glanville following, proposed to join her, when he

saw his father, who had been taking a turn there alone, make up to

Arabella; and supposing he would take that opportunity to talk to

her concerning him, he went back to his sister and Sir George, whose

conversation he interrupted, to the great regret of Miss Glanville.

Chapter V.

_In which will be found one of the former mistakes pursued, and another

cleared up, to the great satisfaction of two persons; among whom the

reader, we expect, will make a third._

Arabella no sooner saw Sir Charles advancing towards her, than,

sensible of the consequence of being alone with a person whom she did

not doubt would make use of that advantage to talk to her of love, she

endeavoured to avoid him, but in vain; for Sir Charles, guessing her

intentions, walked hastily up to her; and, taking hold of her hand--

You must not go away, Lady Bella, said he: I have something to say to

you.

Arabella, extremely discomposed at this behaviour, struggled to free

her hand from her uncle; and giving him a look, on which disdain and

fear were visibly painted--

Unhand me, sir, said she, and force me not to forget the respect I

owe you as my uncle, by treating you with a severity such uncommon

insolence demands.

Sir Charles, letting go her hand in a great surprise at the word

insolent, which she had used, asked her if she knew to whom she was

speaking?

Questionless, I am speaking to my uncle, replied she; and it is with

great regret I see myself obliged to make use of expressions no way

conformable to the respect I bear that sacred character.

And, pray, madam, said Sir Charles, somewhat softened by this speech,

who is it that obliges you to lay aside that respect you seem to

acknowledge is due to your uncle?

You do, sir, replied she; and it is with infinite sorrow that I behold

you assuming a character unbecoming the brother of my father.

This is pretty plain, indeed, interrupted Sir Charles: but pray, madam,

inform me what it is you complain of.

You questionless know much better than I can tell you, replied

Arabella, blushing, the offence I accuse you of; nor is it proper for

me to mention what it would not become me to suffer.

Zounds! cried Sir Charles, no longer able to suppress his growing

anger: this is enough to make a man mad.

Ah! I beseech you, sir, resumed Arabella, suffer not an unfortunate and

ill-judged passion to be the bane of all your happiness and virtue.

Recall your wandering thoughts; reflect upon the dishonour you will

bring upon yourself by persisting in such unjustifiable sentiments.

I do not know how it is possible to avoid it, said Sir Charles; and,

notwithstanding all this fine reasoning, there are few people but would

fly into greater extremities; but my affection for you makes me----

Hold, hold, I conjure you, sir; interrupted Arabella; force me not

to listen to such injurious language; carry that odious affection

somewhere else; and do not persecute an unfortunate maid, who has

contributed nothing to thy fault, and is only guilty of too much

compassion for thy weakness.

Good God! cried Sir Charles, starting back, and looking upon Arabella

with astonishment; how I pity my son! What would I not give, if he did

not love this girl?

Think not, replied Arabella, that the passion your son has for me

makes your condition a bit the worse; for I would be such as I am with

respect to you, were there no Mr. Glanville in the world.

I never thought, niece, said Sir Charles, after a little pause, that

any part of my behaviour could give you the offence you complain of, or

authorise that hatred and contempt you take the liberty to express for

me: but since it is so, I promise you I will quit your house, and leave

you to your self. I have always been solicitous for your welfare; and

ungrateful as you are----

Call me not ungrateful, interrupted Arabella again: Heaven is my

witness, that had you not forgot I was your niece, I would have always

remembered you was my uncle; and not only have regarded you as such,

but have looked upon you as another father, under whose direction

Providence had placed me, since it had deprived me of my real father,

and whose tenderness and care might have in some measure supplied the

loss I had of him: but Heaven has decreed it otherwise; and since it

is its will that I should be deprived of the comfort and assistance my

orphan state requires, I must submit, without murmuring, to my destiny.

Go then, unfortunate and lamented uncle, pursued she, wiping some tears

from her fine eyes; go, and endeavour by reason and absence to recover

thy repose; and be assured, whenever you can convince me you have

triumphed over these sentiments, which now cause both our unhappiness,

you shall have no cause to complain of my conduct towards you.

Finishing these words, she left him with so much speed, that it would

have been impossible for him to have stopped her, though he had

intended it: but indeed he was so lost in wonder and confusion at a

behaviour for which he was not able to assign any other cause than

madness, that he remained fixed in the same posture of surprise, in

which she had left him; and from which he was first interrupted by the

voice of his son, who, seeing Arabella flying towards the house in

great seeming emotion, came to know the result of their conversation.

Sir, said Mr. Glanville, who had spoken to his father before, but had

no answer, will you not inform me what success you have had with my

cousin? How did she receive your proposal?

Speak of her no more, said Sir Charles: she is a proud ungrateful girl,

and unworthy the affection you have for her.

Mr. Glanville, who trembled to hear so unfavourable an answer to his

enquiries, was struck dumb with his surprise and grief; when Sir

Charles, taking notice of the alteration in his countenance--

I am sorry, said he, to find you have set your heart upon this

fantastic girl: if ever she be your wife, which I very much doubt, she

will make you very unhappy. But, Charles, pursued he, I would advise

you to think no more of her; content yourself with the estate you gain

by her refusal of you: with that addition to your own fortune, you may

pretend to any lady whatever; and you will find many that are full as

agreeable as your cousin, who will be proud of your addresses.

Indeed, sir, said Mr. Glanville, with a sigh, there is no woman upon

earth whom I would choose to marry, but Lady Bella. I flattered myself

I had been happy enough to have made some progress in her affection;

but it seems I was mistaken; however, I should be glad to know if she

gave you any reasons for refusing me.

Reasons! said Sir Charles: there is no making her hear reason, or

expecting reason from her. I never knew so strange a woman in my life:

she would not allow me to speak what I intended concerning you; but

interrupted me every moment, with some high-flown stuff or other.

Then I have not lost all hopes of her, cried Mr. Glanville eagerly; for

since she did not hear what you had to say, she could not possibly deny

you.

But she behaved in a very impertinent manner to me, interrupted Sir

Charles; complained of my harsh treatment of her; and said several

other things, which, because of her uncommon style, I could not

perfectly understand; yet they seemed shocking; and, upon the whole,

treated me so rudely, that I am determined to leave her to herself, and

trouble my head no more about her.

For God's sake, dear sir, said Mr. Glanville, alarmed at this

resolution, suspend your anger till I have seen my cousin: there is

some mistake, I am persuaded, in all this. I know she has some very odd

humours, which you are not so well acquainted with, as I am. I'll go to

her, and prevail upon her to explain herself.

You may do so, if you please, replied Sir Charles; but I fear it will

be to very little purpose; for I really suspect her head is a little

turned. I do not know what to do with her: it is not fit she should

have the management of herself; and yet it is impossible to live upon

easy terms with her.

Mr. Glanville, who did not doubt but Arabella had been guilty of some

very ridiculous folly, offered nothing more in her justification; but,

having attended his father to his own chamber, went to Arabella's

apartment.

He found the pensive fair-one in a melancholy posture, her head

reclined upon one of her fair hands; and though her eyes were fixed

upon a book she held in the other, yet she did not seem to read, but

rather to be wholly buried in contemplation.

Mr. Glanville having so happily found her alone (for her women were

not then in her chamber) seated himself near her; having first asked

pardon for the interruption he had given to her studies; and Arabella,

throwing aside her book, prepared to listen to his discourse; which by

the agitation which appeared in his looks, she imagined would be upon

some extraordinary subject.

I left my father just now, said he, in a great deal of uneasiness, on

account of something you said to him, Lady Bella: he apprehends you are

disobliged, and he would willingly know how.

Has your father then acquainted you with the subject of our

conversation? interrupted Arabella.

I know what would have been the subject of your conversation, replied

Mr. Glanville, if you had been pleased to listen to what Sir Charles

intended to say to you on my behalf.

On your behalf? interrupted Arabella: Ah, poor deceived Glanville! how

I pity thy blind sincerity! But it is not for me to undeceive thee:

only thus much I must say to you, beware of committing your interests

to a person who will be a much better advocate for another than for you.

Mr. Glanville, rejoiced to find by these words that her resentment

against his father was occasioned by a suspicion so favourable for him,

assured her, that Sir Charles wished for nothing more earnestly than

that he might be able to merit her esteem; and that it was to dispose

her to listen to his addresses, that he wanted to discourse with her

that morning.

Mr. Glanville being obliged, through his knowledge of his cousin's

temper, to speak to her in this distant manner, went on with his

assurances of his father's candour in this respect; and Arabella, who

would not declare her reasons for doubting it, only replied, that she

wished Sir Charles meant all that he had said to him; but that she

could not persuade herself to believe him sincere, till his future

actions had convinced her he was so.

Mr. Glanville, impatient to let his father know how greatly he had been

mistaken in the cause of Arabella's behaviour, made his visit shorter

than he would otherwise have done, in order to undeceive him.

Is it possible, said Sir Charles, when his son had repeated the

conversation he had just had with Arabella, that she could be so

foolish as to imagine I had a design to propose any one else to her but

you? What reason have I ever given her, to think I would not be glad to

have her for my daughter-in-law? Indeed, she has some odd ways that are

very disagreeable; but she is one of the best matches in England for

all that. Poor girl! pursued he, she had reason to be angry, if that

was the case; and now I remember, she cried, when I told her I would

leave the house; yet her spirit was so great, that she told me I might

go. Well, I'll go and make it up with her; but who could have imagined

she would have been so foolish? Sir Charles, at the repetition of these

words, hurried away to Arabella's apartment.

Niece, said he at his entrance, I am come to ask you pardon, for having

led you into a belief, that I meant----

It is enough, sir, interrupted Arabella; I grant you my pardon for

what is past; and as it does not become me to receive submissions

from my uncle, while he remembers he is so, I will dispense with your

acknowledgments at present; only to convince me, that this sudden

alteration is sincere, avoid, I beseech you, for the future, all

occasions of displeasing me.

I protest, cried Sir Charles, that I never intended----

I will not hear you say a word more of your past intentions,

interrupted Arabella again; I have forgot them all; and, while you

continue to regard me as your niece, I will never remember them to your

disadvantage.

Then I may hope----, said Sir Charles.

Oh! Heavens! cried Arabella, not suffering him to proceed; do you come

to insult me thus, with a mock repentance? And has my easiness in

being so ready to forget the injury you would have done me, made you

presumptuous enough to cherish an insolent hope that I will ever change

my resolution?

How vexatious is this! replied Sir Charles, fretting to see her

continually mistaking him. I swear to you, by all that is sacred, that

it is my son for whom I would solicit your consent.

How! said Arabella, astonished, will you then be just at last? And can

you resolve to plead for that son, whose interest, but a moment ago,

you would have destroyed?

I see, said Sir Charles, it is impossible to convince you.

No, no! interrupted Arabella, hastily; it is not impossible but my own

ardent wishes that it may be so, will help to convince me of the truth

of what you say: for, in fine, do you think, I shall not be as glad as

yourself, to find you capable of acting honourably by your son; and

to see myself no longer the cause of the most unjustifiable conduct

imaginable?

Sir Charles was opening his mouth, to press her in favour of Mr.

Glanville; whom, notwithstanding her strange behaviour, he was glad to

find she loved; when Arabella preventing him--

Seek not, I beseech you, said she, to destroy that belief I am willing

to give your words, by any more attempts at this time to persuade me;

for truly, I shall interpret your solicitude no way in your favour:

therefore, if you desire I should be convinced you are sincere, let the

silence I require of you be one proof of it.

Sir Charles, who looked excessively out of countenance at such a

peremptory command from his niece, was going out of her chamber, in

a very ill humour, when the dinner-bell ringing, she gave him her

hand with a very gracious air; and permitted him to lead her into

the dining-room, where they found Mr. Glanville, his sister, and Sir

George, who had been detained to dinner by Miss Glanville, expecting

their coming.

Chapter VI.

_Containing some account of Thalestris, queen of the Amazons, with

other curious anecdotes._

Lady Bella having recovered her usual cheerfulness, through the

satisfaction she felt at her uncle's returning to reason, and the

abatement she perceived in Sir George's extreme melancholy, mixed in

the conversation with that wit and vivacity which was natural to her,

and which so absolutely charmed the whole company, that not one of them

remembered any of her former extravagancies.

Mr. Glanville gazed on her with a passionate tenderness, Sir George

with admiration, and the old baronet with wonder and delight.

But Miss Glanville, who was inwardly vexed at the superiority her

cousin's wit gave her over herself, wished for nothing more than an

opportunity of interrupting a conversation in which she could have no

share; and willing to put them in mind of some of Arabella's strange

notions, when she observed them disputing concerning some of the

actions of the ancient Romans, she very innocently asked Sir George,

whether in former times women went to the wars, and fought like men?

For my cousin, added she, talks of one Thaltris, a woman, that was as

courageous as any soldier whatever.

Mr. Glanville, horridly vexed at a question that was likely to engage

Arabella in a discourse very different from that she had been so

capable of pleasing in, frowned very intelligibly at his sister; and

to prevent any answer being given to her absurd demand, directed some

other conversation to Arabella: but she, who saw a favourite subject

started, took no notice of what Mr. Glanville was saying to her; but

directing her looks to Sir George--

Though Miss Glanville, said she, be a little mistaken in the name of

that fair queen she has mentioned; yet I am persuaded you know whom she

means; and that it is the renowned Thalestris, whose valour staggers

her belief, and of whom she wants to be informed.

Ay, ay, Thalestris, said Miss Glanville: it is such a strange name I

could not remember it; but, pray, was there ever such a person?

Certainly, madam, there was, replied Sir George: she was queen of

the Amazons, a warlike nation of women, who possessed great part of

Cappadocia, and extended their conquests so far, that they became

formidable to all their neighbours.

You find, miss, said Arabella, I did not attempt to impose upon you,

when I told you of the admirable valour of that beautiful queen; which

indeed was so great, that the united princes, in whose cause she

fought, looked upon her assistance to be equal to that of a whole army;

and they honoured her accordingly, with the most distinguishing marks

of their esteem and acknowledgment, and offered her the chief command

of their forces.

O shameful! cried Sir Charles: offer a woman the command of an army!

Brave fellows indeed, that would be commanded by a woman! Sure you

mistake, niece: there never was such a thing heard of in the world.

What, sir, said Arabella, will you contradict a fact attested by the

greatest historians that ever were? You may as well pretend to say,

there never were such persons as Oroondates or Juba, as dispute the

existence of the famous Thalestris.

Why, pray, madam, said Sir Charles, who were those?

One of them, replied Arabella, was the great king of Scythia; and the

other, prince of the Two Mauritanias.

Odds-heart! interrupted Sir Charles, I believe their kingdoms are in

the moon: I never heard of Scythia, or the Two Mauritanias, before.

And yet, sir, replied Arabella, those kingdoms are doubtless as

well known as France or England; and there is no question but the

descendants of the great Oroondates, and the valiant Juba, sway the

sceptres of them to this day.

I must confess, said Sir George, I have a very great admiration for

those two renowned princes, and have read their beautiful exploits with

infinite pleasure; notwithstanding which, I am more inclined to esteem

the great Artaban than either of them.

Though Artaban, replied Arabella, is, without question, a warrior

equal to either of them, and haply no person in the world possessed so

sublime a courage as his was; yet, it may be, your partiality proceeds

from another cause; and you having the honour to resemble him in some

little infidelities he was accused of, with less justice than yourself

perhaps, induces you to favour him more than any other.

Arabella blushed when she ended these words: and Sir George replied

with a sigh--

I have, indeed, the honour, madam, to resemble the great Artaban, in

having dared to raise my thoughts towards a divine person, who, with

reason, condemns my adorations.

Hey-day! cried Sir Charles, are you going to speak of divine things,

after all the fables you have been talking of? Troth, I love to hear

young men enter upon such subjects: but pray, niece, who told you Sir

George was an infidel?

Mr. Glanville, replied Arabella: and I am inclined to think he spoke

truth; for Sir George has never pretended to deny it.

How! interrupted Sir Charles; I am sorry to hear that. I hope you have

never, added he, looking at the young baronet, endeavoured to corrupt

my son with any of your free-thinking principles. I am for every body

having liberty of conscience; but I cannot endure to hear people of

your stamp endeavouring to propagate your mischievous notions; and

because you have no regard for your own future happiness, disturbing

other people in the laudable pursuit of theirs.

We will not absolutely condemn Sir George, said Arabella, till we have

heard his history from his own mouth, which he promised, some time ago,

to relate when I desired it.

I do not imagine his history is fit to be heard by ladies, said Sir

Charles; for your infidels live a strange kind of life.

However that may be, replied Arabella, we must not dispense with Sir

George from performing his promise. I dare say there are no ladies here

who will think the worse of him for freely confessing his faults.

You may answer for yourself, if you please, madam, said Sir Charles;

but I hope my girl there will not say as much.

I dare say my cousin is not so rigid, said Arabella: she has too much

the spirit of Julia in her, to find fault with a little infidelity.

I am always obliged to you for your comparisons, cousin, said Miss

Glanville: I suppose this is greatly to my advantage too.

I assure you, madam, said Sir George, Lady Bella has done you no injury

by the comparison she has just now made; for Julia was one of the

finest princesses in the world.

Yet she was not free from the suspicion of infidelity, replied

Arabella; but though I do not pretend to tax my cousin with that fault,

yet it is with a great deal of reason that I say she resembles her in

her volatile humour.

I was never thought to be ill-humoured in my life, madam, said Miss

Glanville, colouring; and I cannot imagine what reason I have given you

for saying I am.

Nay, cousin, said Arabella, I am not condemning your humour; for, to

say the truth, there are a great many charms in a volatile disposition;

and notwithstanding the admirable beauty of Julia, it is possible she

made as many slaves by her light and airy carriage, as she did by her

eyes, though they were the fairest in the world, except the divine

Cleopatra's.

Cleopatra! cried Sir Charles: why she was a gipsy, was she not?

I never heard her called so, said Arabella, gravely; and I am apt to

believe you are not at all acquainted with her. But pray, pursued

she, let us wave this discourse at present, and prepare to listen to

Sir George's relation of his life: which, I dare say, is full of very

extraordinary events. However, sir, added she, directing her speech

to the young baronet, I am afraid your modesty will induce you to

speak with less candour than you ought, of those great actions, which

questionless you have performed: therefore we shall hear your history,

with greater satisfaction, from the mouth of your faithful squire, who

will not have the same reasons that you have for suppressing what is

most admirable in the adventures of your life.

Since it is your pleasure, madam, replied Sir George, to hear my

adventures, I will recount them as well as I am able myself, to the end

that I may have an opportunity of obliging you by doing some violence

to my natural modesty, which will not suffer me to relate things the

world have been pleased to speak of to my advantage, without some

little confusion.

Then, casting down his eyes, he seemed to be recollecting the most

material passages in his life. Mr. Glanville, though he could have

wished he had not indulged Arabella in her ridiculous request, was not

able to deny himself the diversion of hearing what kind of history he

would invent; and therefore resolved to stay and listen to him.

Miss Glanville was also highly delighted with the proposal; but

Sir Charles, who could not conceive there could be any thing worth

listening to, in a young rake's account of himself, got up with an

intention to walk in the garden; when perceiving it rained, he changed

his resolution, and resuming his seat, prepared to listen, as every one

else did, to the expected story.

When Sir George, after having paused a quarter of an hour longer,

during which all the company observed a profound silence, began his

relation in this manner, addressing himself to Arabella.

BOOK VI.

Chapter I.

_Containing the beginning of Sir George's history; in which the

ingenious relator has exactly copied the style of romance._

Though at present, madam, you behold me in the quality of a private

gentleman, in the possession only of a tolerable estate, yet my birth

is illustrious enough: my ancestors having formerly worn a crown,

which, as they won by their valour, so they lost by their misfortune

only.

How! interrupted Sir Charles, are you descended from kings? Why, I

never heard you say so before: pray, sir, how far are you removed from

royal blood? and which of your forefathers was it that wore a crown?

Sir, replied Sir George, it is not much more than eight hundred years

since my ancestors, who were Saxons, swayed the sceptre of Kent; and

from the first monarch of that mighty kingdom am I lineally descended.

Pray where may that kingdom of Kent lie? said Sir Charles.

Sir, replied Sir George, it is bounded by Sussex on the south-west;

Surrey on the west; the English Channel on the south; Dover Straits

on the south-east; and the Downs on the east; and it is divided from

Middlesex and Essex on the north by the Thames.

A mighty kingdom, indeed! said Sir Charles: why, it makes but a very

small part of the kingdom of Britain now. Well, if your ancestors were

kings of that county, as it is now called, it must be confessed their

dominions were very small.

However that may be, said Arabella, it raises Sir George greatly in

my esteem, to hear he is descended from kings; for, truly, a royal

extraction does infinitely set off noble and valiant actions, and

inspires only lofty and generous sentiments: therefore, illustrious

prince (for in that light I shall always consider you), be assured,

though fortune has despoiled you of your dominions, yet since she

cannot deprive you of your courage and virtue, Providence will one day

assist your noble endeavours to recover your rights, and place you upon

the throne of your ancestors, from whence you have been so inhumanly

driven; or, haply, to repair that loss, your valour may procure you

other kingdoms, no less considerable than that to which you was born.

For Heaven's sake, niece, said Sir Charles, how come such improbable

things into your head? Is it such an easy matter, think you, to conquer

kingdoms, that you can flatter a young man, who has neither fleets nor

armies, with such strange hopes?

The great Artaban, sir, resumed Arabella, had neither fleets nor

armies, and was master only of a single sword; yet he soon saw himself

greater than any king, disposing the destinies of monarchs by his

will, and deciding the fates of empires by a single word. But pray let

this dispute rest where it is, and permit Sir George to continue his

relation.

It is not necessary, madam, resumed Sir George, to acquaint you with

the misfortunes of my family, or relate the several progressions it

made towards the private condition in which it now is: for, besides

that reciting the events of so many hundred years may haply, in some

measure, try your patience, I should be glad if you would dispense with

me from entering into a detail of accidents that would sensibly afflict

me. It shall suffice, therefore, to inform you, that my father, being

a peaceable man, fond of retirement and tranquillity, made no attempts

to recover the sovereignty from which his ancestors had been unjustly

expelled; but quietly beheld the kingdom of Kent in the possession

of other masters, while he contented himself with the improvement of

that small pittance of ground, which was all that the unhappy Prince

Veridomer, my grandfather, was able to bequeath to him.

Hey-day! cried Sir Charles, will you new-christen your grandfather,

when he has been in his grave these forty years? I knew honest Sir

Edward Bellmour very well, though I was but a youth when he died; but I

believe no person in Kent ever gave him the title of Prince Veridomer.

Fie! fie! these are idle brags.

Sir George, without taking notice of the old baronet's heat, went on

with his narration in this manner:--

Things were in this state, madam, when I was born. I will not trouble

you with the relation of what I did in my infancy.

No, pray skip over all that, interrupted Sir Charles; I suppose your

infancy was like other people's; what can there be worth hearing in

that?

You are deceived, sir, said Arabella: the infancy of illustrious

personages has always something very extraordinary in it; and from

their childish words and actions there have been often presages drawn

of their future greatness and glory.

Not to disoblige Sir Charles, however, said the young prince of Kent,

I will not repeat many things which I said and did in the first years

of my life, that those about me thought very surprising; and from them

prognosticated that very strange accidents would befall me.

I have been a witness of some very unfavourable prognostics of you,

said Sir Charles, smiling; for you was the most unlucky bold spark that

ever I knew in my life.

It is very certain, pursued Sir George, that the forwardness of my

spirit gave great uneasiness to my father; who being, as I said before,

inclinable to a peaceable and sedentary life, endeavoured as much as

possible to repress that vivacity in my disposition which he feared

might involve me in dangerous enterprises. The pains he took in my

education, I recompensed by a more than ordinary docility; and before I

was thirteen, performed all my exercises with a marvellous grace; and,

if I may dare say so, was, at those early years, the admiration and

wonder of all that saw me.

Lady Bella had some reason to fear your modesty, I find, said Sir

Charles, smiling; for, methinks you really speak too slightly of your

excellencies.

However that may be, resumed Sir George, my father saw these early

instances of a towering genius in me, with a pleasure, chastened by

his fears, that the grandeur of my courage would lead me to attempt

something for the recovery of that kingdom, which was my due; and which

might haply occasion his losing me.

Possessed with these thoughts, he carefully avoided saying any thing to

me concerning the glorious pretences to which my birth gave me a right;

and often wished it had been possible for him to conceal from me, that

I was the true and lawful heir of the kingdom of Kent; a circumstance

he never chose to mention to any person, and would have been glad if it

had always remained a secret.

And so it was a secret, interrupted Sir Charles; for, till this day,

I never heard of it; and it might still have been a secret if you had

pleased; for nobody, I dare say, would suspect such a thing; and very

few, I believe, will be inclined to think there is any thing in such an

improbable tale.

Notwithstanding all my father's endeavours to the contrary, madam,

pursued Sir George, I cherished those towering sentiments the knowledge

of my birth inspired me with; and it was not without the utmost

impatience that I brooked the private condition to which I found myself

reduced.

Cruel fate! would I sometimes cry; was it not enough to deprive me of

that kingdom which is my due, and subject me to a mean and inglorious

state; but to make that condition infinitely more grievous, must thou

give me a soul towering above my abject fortune? A soul, that cannot

but disdain the base submission I must pay to those who triumph in

the spoils of my ruined house? A soul, which sees nothing above its

hopes and expectations? And, in fine, a soul, that excites me daily

to attempt things worthy of my birth, and those noble sentiments I

inherit from my great forefathers? Ah! pursued I, unhappy Bellmour,

what hinders thee from making thyself known and acknowledged for what

thou art? What hinders thee from boldly asserting thy just and natural

rights; and from defying the usurper who detains them from thee? What

hinders thee, I say?

What? interrupted Sir Charles; why the fear of a halter, I suppose:

there is nothing more easy than to answer that question.

Such, madam, said Sir George, were the thoughts which continually

disturbed my imagination; and, doubtless, they had not failed to push

me on to some hazardous enterprise, had not a fatal passion interposed;

and by its sweet but dangerous allurements, stifled for a while that

flame which ambition, and the love of glory kindled in my soul.

Sir George here pausing, and fixing his eyes with a melancholy air on

the ground, as if pressed with a tender remembrance,--

Mr. Glanville asked him, smiling, if the thoughts of poor Dolly

disturbed him? Pray, added he, give us the history of your first love,

without any mixture of fable; or shall I take the trouble off you? For

you know, I am very well acquainted with your affair with the pretty

milk-maid, and can tell it very succinctly.

It is true, sir, said Sir George, sighing, I cannot recall the idea

of Dorothea into my remembrance, without some pain: that fair but

unfaithful shepherdess, who first taught me to sigh, and repaid my

tenderness with the blackest infidelity: yet I will endeavour to

compose myself, and go on with my narration.

Be pleased to know then, madam, pursued Sir George, that having my

thoughts, in this manner, wholly employed with the disasters of my

family, I had arrived to my seventeenth year, without being sensible of

the power of love; but the moment now arrived, which was to prove fatal

to my liberty. Following the chase one day with my father and some

other gentlemen, I happened to lag a little behind them; and, being

taken up with my ordinary reflections, I lost my way, and wandered a

long time, without knowing or considering whither I was going. Chance

at last conducted me to a pleasant valley, surrounded with trees: and,

being tired with riding, I alighted, and tying my horse to a tree,

walked forward with an intention to repose myself a few moments under

the shade of one of those trees that had attracted my observation:

but while I was looking for the most convenient place, I spied, at

the distance of some few yards from me, a woman lying asleep upon the

grass. Curiosity tempted me to go nearer this person; and, advancing

softly, that I might not disturb her, I got near enough to have a view

of her person: but, ah! heavens! what wonders did my eyes encounter

in this view!----The age of this fair sleeper seemed not to exceed

sixteen; her shape was formed with the exactest symmetry; one of her

hands supported her head; the other, as it lay carelessly stretched

at her side, gave me an opportunity of admiring its admirable colour

and proportion. The thin covering upon her neck discovered part of its

inimitable beauty to my eyes; but her face, her lovely face, fixed all

my attention.

Certain it is, madam, that, out of this company, it would be hard to

find any thing so perfect as what I now viewed. Her complexion was

the purest white imaginable, heightened by the enchanting glow which

dyed her fair cheeks with a colour like that of a new-blown rose: her

lips, formed with the greatest perfection, and of a deeper red, seemed

to receive new beauties from the fragrance of that breath that parted

from them. Her auburn hair fell in loose ringlets over her neck; and

some straggling curls, that played upon her fair forehead, set off

by a charming contrast the whiteness of that skin it partly hid. Her

eyes indeed were closed; and though I knew not whether their colour

and beauty were equal to those other miracles in her face, yet their

proportion seemed to be large; and the snowy lids, which covered them,

were admirably set off by those long and sable lashes that adorned them.

For some moments I gazed upon this lovely sleeper, wholly lost in

wonder and admiration.

Where, whispered I, where has this miracle been concealed, that my eyes

were never blessed with the sight of her before? These words, though I

uttered them softly, and with the utmost caution; yet by the murmuring

noise they made, caused an emotion in the beauteous sleeper, that she

started, and presently after opened her eyes: but what words shall I

find to express the wonder, the astonishment, and rapture, which the

sight of those bright stars inspired me with? The flames which darted

from those glorious orbs cast such a dazzling splendor upon a sight too

weak to bear a radiance so unusual, that stepping back a few paces,

I contemplated at a distance, that brightness which began already to

kindle a consuming fire in my soul.

Bless me! interrupted Sir Charles, confounded at so pompous a

description; who could this be?

The pretty milk-maid, Dolly Acorn, replied Mr. Glanville gravely: did

you never see her, sir, when you was at your seat, at ----? She used

often to bring cream to my lady.

Aye, aye, replied Sir Charles, I remember her: she was a very pretty

girl. And so it was from her eyes that all those splendors and flames

came, that had like to have burnt you up, Sir George? Well, well, I

guess how the story will end: pray let us hear it out.

I have already told you, madam, resumed Sir George, the marvellous

effects the sight of those bright eyes produced upon my spirit. I

remained fixed in a posture of astonishment and delight; and all the

faculties of my soul were so absorbed in the contemplation of the

miracles before me, that I believe, had she still continued before my

eyes, I should never have moved from the place where I then stood:

but the fair virgin, who had spied me at the small distance to which

I was retired, turned hastily about, and flew away with extraordinary

swiftness.

When love, now lending me wings, whom admiration had before made

motionless, I pursued her so eagerly, that at last I overtook her; and,

throwing myself upon my knees before her,--

Stay, I conjure you, cried I; and if you be a divinity, as your

celestial beauty makes me believe, do not refuse the adoration I offer

you: but if, as I most ardently wish, you are a mortal, though sure

the fairest that ever graced the earth; stop a moment to look upon a

man, whose respects for you as a mortal fall little short of those

adorations he offers you as a goddess.

I can't but think, cried Sir Charles, laughing, how poor Dolly must be

surprised at such a rhodomontade speech!

Oh, sir! replied Mr. Glanville, you will find she will make as good a

one.

Will she, by my troth? said Sir Charles: I don't know how to believe it.

This action, pursued Sir George, and the words I uttered, a little

surprised that fair maid, and brought a blush into her lovely cheeks;

but recovering herself, she replied with an admirable grace--

I am no divinity, said she; and therefore your adorations are

misplaced: but if, as you say, my countenance moves you to any respect

for me, give me a proof of it, by not endeavouring to hold any further

discourse with me, which is not permitted me from one of your sex and

appearance.

A very wise answer, indeed! interrupted Sir Charles again. Very few

town-ladies would have disclaimed the title of goddess, if their lovers

had thought proper to bestow it upon them. I am mightily pleased with

the girl for her ingenuity.

The discretion of so young a damsel, resumed Sir George, charmed me no

less than her beauty; and I besought her, with the utmost earnestness,

to permit me a longer conversation with her.

Fear not, lovely virgin, said I, to listen to the vows of a man, who,

till he saw you, never learnt to sigh. My heart, which defended its

liberty against the charms of many admirable ladies, yields, without

reluctance, to the pleasing violence your beauties lay upon me. Yes,

too charming and dangerous stranger, I am no longer my own master;

it is in your power to dispose of my destiny: consider therefore, I

beseech you, whether you can consent to see me die? For I swear to you,

by the most sacred oaths, unless you promise to have some compassion on

me, I will no longer behold the light of day.

You may easily conceive, madam, that, considering this lovely maid in

the character of a shepherdess, in which she appeared, I made her a

declaration of my passion, without thinking myself obliged to observe

those respects, which to a person of equal rank with myself, decorum

would not have permitted me to forget.

However, she repelled my boldness with so charming a modesty, that I

began to believe she might be a person of illustrious birth, disguised

under the mean habit she wore: but, having requested her to inform

me who she was, she told me her name was Dorothea; and that she was

daughter to a farmer that lived in the neighbouring valley. This

knowledge increasing my confidence, I talked to her of my passion,

without being the least afraid of offending her.

And therein you was greatly to blame, said Arabella: for, truly, though

the fair Dorothea told you she was daughter to a farmer, yet, in all

probability, she was of a much higher extraction, if the picture you

have drawn of her be true.

The fair Arsinoe, princess of Armenia, was constrained for a while to

conceal her true name and quality, and pass for a simple country-woman,

under the name of Delia: yet the generous Philadelph, prince of

Cilicia, who saw and loved her under that disguise, treated her with

all the respect he would have done, had he known she was the daughter

of a king. In like manner, Prince Philoxipes, who fell in love with the

beautiful Policrete, before he knew she was the daughter of the great

Solon; and while he looked upon her as a poor stranger, born of mean

parents; nevertheless, his love supplying the want of those advantages

of birth and fortune, he wooed her with a passion as full of awe and

delicacy as if her extraction had been equal to his own. And therefore

those admirable qualities the fair Dorothea possessed might also have

convinced you she was not what she seemed, but haply, some great

princess in disguise.

To tell you the truth, madam, replied Sir George, notwithstanding

the fair Dorothea informed me she was of a mean descent, I could not

easily forego the opinion that she was of an illustrious birth; and the

histories of those fair princesses you have mentioned coming into my

mind, I also thought it very possible, that this divine person might

either be the daughter of a great king, or law-giver, like them. But,

being wholly engrossed by the violence of my new-born affection, I

listened to nothing but what most flattered my hopes; and, addressing

my lovely shepherdess with all the freedom of a person who thinks his

birth much superior to hers, she listened to my protestations without

any seeming reluctance, and condescended to assure me before we parted,

that she did not hate me. So fair a beginning, seemed to promise me the

most favourable fortune I could with reason expect. I parted from my

fair shepherdess with a thousand vows of fidelity; exacting a promise

from her, that she would meet me as often as she conveniently could,

and have the goodness to listen to those assurances of inviolable

tenderness my passion prompted me to offer her. When she left me, it

seemed as if my soul had forsaken my body to go after her: my eyes

pursued her steps as long as she was in sight; I envied the ground she

pressed as she went along, and the breezes that kissed that celestial

countenance in their flight.

For some hours I stood in the same posture in which she had left me;

contemplating the sudden change I had experienced in my heart, and

the beauty of that divine image, which was now engraved in it. Night

drawing on, I began to think of going home; and, untying my horse,

I returned the way I had come; and at last struck into a road which

brought me to the place where I parted from the company; from whence

I easily found my way home, so changed both in my looks and carriage,

that my father, and all my friends, observed the alteration with some

surprise.

Chapter II.

_In which Sir George, continuing his surprising history, relates a most

stupendous instance of a valour only to be paralleled by that of the

great Oroondates, Cæsareo, &c. &c. &c._

For some months, continued Sir George, I prosecuted my addresses to

the admirable Dorothea; and I flattered myself with a hope that I had

made some progress in her heart: but, alas! this deceitful fair-one,

who only laughed at the torments she made me endure, at the time she

vowed eternal constancy to me, gave her hand to a lover of her father's

providing, and abandoned me, without remorse, to the most cruel despair.

I will not trouble you, madam, with the repetition of those complaints

which this perfidious action drew from me for a long time. At length,

my courage enabling me to overcome the violence of my grief, I resolved

to think of the ungrateful Dorothea no more; and the sight of another

beauty completing my cure, I no longer remembered the unfaithful

shepherdess but with indifference.

Thus, madam, have I faithfully related one of those infidelities

wherewith my enemies slander me; who can support their assertion with

no better proof than that I did not die when Dorothea abandoned me: but

I submit it to your candour, whether an unfaithful mistress deserved

such an instance of affection from a lover she had betrayed?

Why, really, replied Arabella, after a little pause, you had some

excuse to plead for your failure in this point: and though you cannot

be called the most perfect amongst lovers, seeing you neither died

nor was in danger of dying, yet neither ought you to be ranked among

those who are most culpable. But pray proceed in your story: I shall be

better able to form a right judgment of your merit as a lover, when I

have heard all your adventures.

My passion for Dorothea, resumed Sir George, being cured by her

treachery towards me, the love of glory began again to revive in my

soul. I panted after some occasion to signalize my valour, which yet I

had met with no opportunity of doing; but hearing that a mighty army

was preparing to march upon a secret expedition, I privately quitted

my father's seat; and attended only by my faithful squire, I took the

same route the army had taken, and arrived the day before the terrible

battle of ---- was fought, where, without making myself known, I

performed such prodigies of valour as astonished all who beheld me.

Without doubt I should have been highly caressed by the commander, who

certainly would have given me the honour of a victory my sword alone

had procured for him; but having unwittingly engaged myself too far in

pursuit of the flying enemy, I found myself alone, encompassed with a

party of about five hundred men; who seeing they were pursued only by a

single man, faced about, and prepared to kill or take me prisoner.

Pray, sir, interrupted Sir Charles, when did all this happen? And how

came it to pass that your friends have been ignorant to this moment

of those prodigies of valour you performed at that battle? I never

heard you was ever in a battle: fame has done you great injustice, by

concealing the part you had in that famous victory.

The great care I took to conceal myself, replied Sir George, was one

reason why my friends did not attribute to me the exploits which the

knight in black armour, who was no other than myself, performed; and

the accident I am going to relate prevented my being discovered, while

the memory of those great exploits were yet fresh in the minds of those

I had so greatly obliged.

Be pleased to know, therefore, madam, that seeing myself about to be

encompassed by this party of the enemy, I disdained to fly; and, though

I was alone, resolved to sustain their attack, and sell my life as dear

as possible.

Why, if you did so, you was a madman, cried Sir Charles, in a heat:

the bravest man that ever lived would not have presumed to fight with

so great a number of enemies. What could you expect but to be cut in

pieces? Pooh! pooh! don't think any body will credit such a ridiculous

tale: I never knew you was so addicted to--

Lying, perhaps, the good knight would have said; but Sir George, who

was concerned he was present at his legend, and could not blame him for

doubting his veracity, prevented his utterance of a word he would be

obliged to take ill, by abruptly going on with his story.

Placing my back therefore against a tree, pursued he, to prevent my

being assaulted behind, I presented my shield to the boldest of these

assailants; who, having struck an impotent blow upon it, as he was

lifting up his arm to renew his attack, I cut it off with one stroke of

my sword; and the same instant plunged it to the hilt in the breast of

another, and clove the skull of a third, who was making at me, in two

parts.

Sir Charles, at this relation, burst into a loud fit of laughter; and,

being more inclined to divert himself than be offended at the folly

and vanity of the young baronet, he permitted him to go on with his

surprising story, without giving him any other interruption.

These three executions, madam, pursued Sir George, were the effects

only of so many blows; which raised such indignation in my enemies,

that they pressed forward in great numbers to destroy me; but having,

as I before said, posted myself so advantageously, that I could only

be assaulted before, not more than three or four could attack me at

one time. The desire of lengthening out my life, till happily some

succour might come to my relief, so invigorated my arm, and added to my

ordinary strength an almost irresistible force, that I dealt death at

every blow; and in less than a quarter of an hour, saw more than fifty

of my enemies at my feet, whose bodies served for a bulwark against

their fellows' swords.

The commander of this little body, not having generosity enough to

be moved with these prodigious effects of valour in my favour, was

transported with rage at my resistance; and the sight of so many of

his men slain before his face, served only to increase his fury: and

that moment, seeing that, with two more blows, I had sent two of his

most valiant soldiers to the shades, and that the rest, fearing to come

within the length of my sword, had given me a few moments respite--

Ah! cowards! cried he, are you afraid of a single man? And will you

suffer _him_ to escape from your vengeance, who has slain so many of

your brave comrades before your eyes?

These words inspiring them with a fierceness such as he desired, they

advanced towards me with more fury than before. By this time, I had

received several large wounds, and my blood ran down from many parts

of my body: yet was I not sensible of any decay of strength, nor did

the settled designs of my enemies to destroy me daunt me in the least.

I still relied upon the assistance I expected Providence would send to

my relief, and determined, if possible, to preserve my life till it

arrived.

I fought, therefore, with a resolution which astonished my enemies,

but did not move them to any regard for my safety: and observing their

brutal commander a few paces from me encouraging his men, both with

his cries and gestures, indignation against this inhuman wretch so

transported me out of my discretion, that I quitted my post, in order

to sacrifice him to my revenge.

Seeing me advance furiously towards him, he turned pale with fear,

and endeavoured to shelter himself in the midst of his men; who, more

valiant than himself, opposed themselves to my rage to favour his

retreat; but quickly clearing myself a way with my sword, I pressed

towards the barbarous coward; and, ere he could avoid the blow I aimed

at him, it struck him senseless at my feet.

My particular revenge thus satisfied, I was sensible of the fault I

had committed in quitting my post, by which I exposed myself to be

surrounded by the enemy. I endeavoured to regain it, but in vain: I was

beset on all sides, and now despaired of any safety; and therefore only

sought to die courageously, and make as many of my enemies as I could

attend my fall.

Exasperated by the misfortune of their commander, they pressed upon

me with redoubled fury. Faint as I was with the loss of blood, and so

fatigued with the past action, and the obstinate fight I had maintained

so long with such a considerable number, I could hardly any longer lift

up my arm; and, to complete my misfortune, having thrust my sword into

the body of one of the forwardest of my enemies, in my endeavouring to

regain it, it broke in pieces, and the hilt only remained in my hand.

This accident completed my defeat: deprived of my sword, I was no

longer capable of making any defence: several of them pressed upon me

at once; and, throwing me down, tied my hands together behind me. Shame

and rage at this indignity worked so forcibly upon my spirits, weakened

as I then was, that I fell into a swoon. What happened till my recovery

I am not able to tell; but at the return of my senses, I found myself

laid on a bed in a tolerable chamber, and some persons with me, who

kept a profound silence.

Chapter III.

_A love adventure, after the romantic taste._

Recollecting in a few moments all that happened to me, I could not

choose but be surprised at finding myself treated with so little

severity, considering I was prisoner to persons who had been witnesses

of the great quantity of blood I had shed in my own defence. My wounds

had been dressed while I continued in my swoon; and the faces of those

persons who were about me expressed nothing of unkindness.

After reflecting some time longer on my situation, I called to a young

man who sat near my bed-side, and entreated him to inform me where

I was, and to whom I was a prisoner; but could get no other answer

to those questions than a most civil entreaty to compose myself, and

not protract the cure of my wounds by talking; which the surgeons had

declared would be of a bad consequence, and had therefore ordered me to

be as little disturbed as possible.

Notwithstanding this remonstrance, I repeated my request, promising to

be entirely governed by them for the future in what regarded my health,

provided they would satisfy me in those particulars. But my attendant

did not so much as reply to those importunities; but to prevent the

continuance of them, rose from his seat, and retired to the other end

of the chamber.

I passed that day, and several others, without being able to learn the

truth of my condition. All this time I was diligently waited on by the

two persons I had first seen, neither of whom I could prevail upon to

inform me of what I desired to know; and judging by this obstinate

reserve, and the manner of my treatment, that there was some mystery in

the case, I forbore to ask them any more questions, conceiving they had

particular orders not to answer them.

The care that was taken to forward my cure, in three weeks entirely

restored me to health. I longed impatiently to know what was to be

my destiny; and busied myself in conjecturing it in vain; when one

morning, an elderly lady entered my chamber, at whose appearance my two

attendants retired.

After she had saluted me very civilly, and enquired after my health,

she seated herself in a chair near my bed-side, and spoke to me in this

manner--

I make no question, sir, but you are surprised at the manner in which

you have been treated, and the care there has been taken to prevent

discovering to you the place where you now are; but you will doubtless

be more surprised to hear you are in the fortress of ----, and in the

house of Prince Marcomire, whose party you fought against alone; and

whom you so dangerously wounded, before you was taken prisoner by his

men.

Is it possible, madam, said I, who from the first moment of her

appearance had been in a strange perplexity--is it possible I am in the

house of a man whose life I endeavoured so eagerly to destroy? And is

it to him, who oppressed me so basely with numbers, that I am obliged

for the succour I have received?

It is not to him, replied the lady, that you are obliged for the

favourable treatment you have had; but listen to me patiently, and I

will disclose the truth of your adventure.

Prince Marcomire, who was the person that headed that party against

which you so valiantly defended yourself, after the loss of the battle,

was hastening to throw himself into this place, where his sister, and

many ladies of quality, had come for security: your indiscreet pursuit

engaged you in the most unequal combat that ever was fought; and----

Nay, sir, interrupted Arabella, though I do not refuse to give you

all the praises your gallant defence of yourself against five hundred

men deserves; yet I cannot agree with that lady, in saying, it was

the most unequal combat that ever was fought: for, do but reflect, I

beseech you, upon that which the brave prince of Mauritania sustained

against twice that number of men, with no other arms than his sword;

and, you having been in battle that day, was, as I conceive, completely

armed. The young prince of Egypt, accompanied only by the valiant, but

indiscreet, Cepio his friend, engaged all the king of Armenia's guards,

and put them all to flight. The courageous Ariobarsanes scorned to turn

his back upon a whole army; not to mention the invincible Artaban, whom

a thousand armies together could not have made to turn.

Be pleased to observe, madam, said Sir George, that to the end I may

faithfully recount my history, I am under the necessity of repeating

things which, haply, may seem too advantageous for a man to say of

himself: therefore I indeed greatly approve of the custom, which, no

doubt, this inconveniency introduced, of a squire, who is thoroughly

instructed with the secrets of his master's heart, relating his

adventures, and giving a proper eulogium of his rare valour, without

being in danger of offending the modesty of the renowned knight; who,

as you know, madam, upon those occasions, commodiously slips away.

It being, however, this lady's opinion, that no man ever undertook a

more hazardous combat, or with greater odds against him, she did not

fail to express her admiration of it in very high terms.

The noise of this accident, pursued she, was soon spread over the

whole town; and the beautiful Sydimiris, Marcomire's sister, hearing

that her brother was wounded, as it was thought, to death, and that

the person who killed him was taken prisoner, she flew out to meet her

wounded brother, distracted with grief, and vowing to have the severest

tortures executed on him who had thus barbarously murdered her brother.

Those who bore that unhappy prince, having brought him into the house,

his wounds were searched; and the surgeons declared they were very

dangerous.

Sydimiris, hearing this, redoubled her complaints and vows of vengeance

against you: her brother having then the chief authority in the place,

she commanded, in his name, to have you brought hither, and to be most

strictly guarded; determined, if her brother died, to sacrifice you to

his ghost.

Full of these sanguinary resolutions, she left his chamber, having seen

him laid in bed, and his wounds dressed; but passing along a gallery

to her own apartment, she met the persons who were bringing you to the

room that was to be your prison. You was not, pursued the lady, yet

recovered from your swoon, so that they carried you like one that was

dead: they had taken off your helmet to give you air; by which means

your face being quite uncovered, pale, languishing, and your eyes

closed, as if in death, presented the most moving, and, at the same

time, most pleasing object in the world.

Sydimiris, who stopped, and for a moment eagerly gazed upon you, lost

all of a sudden the fierceness which before had animated her against

you; and lifting up her eyes to view those men that carried you--

Are you sure, said she to them, that this is the person who wounded my

brother?

Yes, madam, replied one of them: this must be he, since there was no

other in his company; and he alone sustained the attack of five hundred

men; and would probably not have left one of them alive, had not his

sword, by breaking, put it into our power to take him prisoner.

Carry him away, said Sydimiris; but let his wounds be dressed, and

let him be carefully looked to, that, if my brother dies, he may be

punished as he deserves.

Pronouncing these words in a low and faltering voice, she turned her

eyes a second time upon you; then, hastily averting her looks, she

hurried to her own chamber, and threw herself into a chair, with all

the marks of a very great disturbance.

The affection I have for her, being the person who had brought her

up, and most favoured with her confidence, made me behold her in this

condition with great concern; and supposing it was her brother that

disquieted her, I besought her not to give way to the violence of her

grief, but to hope that Heaven would restore him to her prayers.

Alas! my dear Urinoe, said she, I am more culpable than you can

imagine; and I grieve less for the condition to which I see Marcomire

reduced, than for that moderation wherewith I am constrained, spite of

myself, to behold his enemy.

Yes, dear Urinoe, pursued she, blushing, and casting down her eyes, the

actions of this unknown appear to me in quite another light since I

have seen him; and, instead of looking upon him as the murderer of my

brother, I cannot help admiring that rare valour with which he defended

himself against so great a number of enemies; and am even ready to

condemn the furious Marcomire for oppressing so brave a man.

As I had never approved of those violent transports of grief and

rage which she had expressed upon the first news of her brother's

misfortune; and as I looked upon your glorious defence with the utmost

admiration; so far from condemning the change of her thoughts, I

confirmed her in the favourable opinion she began to entertain of you;

and, continuing to make remarks upon all the particulars of the combat,

which had come to our knowledge, we found nothing in your behaviour,

but what increased our admiration.

Sydimiris therefore, following the dictates of her own generosity, as

well as my advice, placed two persons about you, whose fidelity we

could rely on; and gave them orders to treat you with all imaginable

care and respect, but not to inform you of the place in which you was,

or to whom you was prisoner.

In the mean time, Marcomire, whose wounds had been again examined, was

declared out of danger by the surgeons; and he having understood the

excess of his sister's grief, and the revenge she had vowed against

you, gave her thanks for those expressions of her tenderness; and also

uttered some threats, which intimated a violent hatred against you; and

a design of prosecuting his revenge upon you as soon as he was in a

condition to leave his chamber.

Sydimiris, who heard him, could with difficulty dissemble her concern.

Ah! Urinoe, said she to me, when we were alone; it is now that I more

than ever repent of that excess of rage which transported me against

the brave unknown. I have thereby put him entirely into my brother's

power, and shall be haply accessary to that death he is meditating for

him, or else a perpetual imprisonment.

This reflection gave her so much pain, that I could not choose but pity

her; and considering that the only way to preserve you was for her to

dissemble a rage equal to Marcomire's against you, in order to prevent

being suspected of any design in your favour, I persuaded her to join

with him in every thing he said; while, in the mean time, we would

endeavour to get you cured of your wounds, that you might at least be

in a condition once more to defend yourself with that miraculous valour

Heaven has bestowed on you.

Sydimiris perceiving her brother would soon be in a condition to

execute his threats, resolved to hazard every thing rather than to

expose you to his rage: she therefore communicated to me her design

of giving you liberty, and, by presenting a sufficient reward to your

guard, inducing them to favour your escape.

I undertook to manage this business in her name, and have done it so

effectually, that you will this night be at liberty, and may depart the

town immediately; in which it will be dangerous to stay any time, for

fear of being discovered.

Sydimiris forbade me to let you know the person to whom you would

be obliged for your freedom; but I could not endure that you should

unjustly involve the sister of Marcomire in that resentment you will

questionless always preserve against _him_: and to keep you from being

innocently guilty of ingratitude, I resolved to acquaint you with the

nature of those obligations you owe to her.

Chapter IV.

_The adventure continued._

Ah, madam! said I, observing she had finished her discourse, doubt

not but I shall most gratefully preserve the remembrance of what the

generous Sydimiris has done for me; and shall always be ready to lose

that life in her defence, which she has had the superlative goodness to

take so much care of. But, madam, pursued I, with an earnest look, do

not, I beseech you, refuse me one favour, without which I shall depart

with inconceivable sorrow.

Depend upon it, valiant sir, replied she, that if what you will require

of me, be in my power, and fit for me to grant, I shall very willingly

oblige you.

It is then, resumed I, trembling at the boldness of my request, that

you would condescend to entreat the most generous Sydimiris to favour

me with an interview, and give me an opportunity of throwing myself at

her feet, to thank her for all those favours I have received from her

compassion.

I cannot promise you, replied the lady, rising, to prevail upon

Sydimiris to grant you an audience; but I assure you, that I will

endeavour to dispose her to do you this favour; and it shall not be my

fault if you are not satisfied.

Saying this, she went out of my chamber, I having followed her to the

door, with protestations that I would never forget her kindness upon

this occasion.

I passed the rest of that day in an anxious impatience for night,

divided between fear and hope, and more taken up with the thoughts of

seeing Sydimiris, than with my expected liberty.

Night came at last, and the door of my apartment opening, I saw the

lady who had been with me in the morning enter.

I have prevailed upon Sydimiris to see you, said she; and she is

willing, at my entreaty, to grant that favour to a person who, she with

reason thinks, has been inhumanly treated by her brother.

Then, giving me her hand, she conducted me along a large gallery, to a

stately apartment; and after traversing several rooms, she led me into

one where Sydimiris herself was: who, as soon as she perceived me, rose

from her seat, and received me with great civility.

In the transport I then was, I know not how I returned the graceful

salute the incomparable Sydimiris gave me; for most certain it is, that

I was so lost in wonder, at the sight of the many charms I beheld in

her person, that I could not unlock my tongue, or remove my eyes from

her enchanting face; but remained fixed in a posture which at once

expressed my admiration and delight.

To give you a description of that beauty which I then contemplated, I

must inform you, madam, that Sydimiris is tall, of a handsome stature,

and admirably proportioned; her hair was of the finest black in the

world; her complexion marvellously fair; all the lineaments of her

visage were perfectly beautiful; and her eyes, which were large and

black, sparkled with so quick and piercing a fire, that no heart was

able to resist their powerful glances. Moreover, Sydimiris is admirably

shaped; her port is high and noble; and her air so free, yet so

commanding, that there are few persons in the world with whom she may

not dispute the priority of beauty. In fine, madam, Sydimiris appeared

with so many advantages to a spirit prepossessed already with the

most grateful sense of her favours, that I could not resist the sweet

violence wherewith her charms took possession of my heart: I yielded,

therefore, without reluctance, to my destiny, and resigned myself, in

an instant, to those fetters which the sight of the divine Sydimiris

prepared for me. Recovering therefore a little from that admiration

which had so totally engrossed all my faculties, I threw myself at her

feet with an action wholly composed of transport.

Divine Sydimiris! said I, beholding her with eyes in which the letters

of my new-born passion might very plainly be read, see at your feet a

man devoted to your service by all the ties of gratitude and respect.

I come, madam, to declare to you, that from the first moment you gave

me liberty, I had devoted that and my life to you; and at your feet I

confirm the gift; protesting by all that is most dear and sacred to

me, that since I hold my life from the divine Sydimiris, she alone

shall have the absolute disposal of it for the future; and should she

please again to demand it, either to appease her brother's fury or to

sacrifice it to her own security, I will most faithfully perform her

will, and shed the last drop of that blood at her command, which I

would with transport lose in her defence.

A fine high-flown speech, indeed! said Sir Charles, laughing: but I

hope you did not intend to keep your word.

Sure, sir, replied Arabella, you do not imagine, that Sir George would

have failed in executing all he had promised to the beautiful and

generous Sydimiris: what could he possibly have said less? And indeed

what less could she have expected from a man, whom at the hazard of her

own life and happiness, she had given freedom to?

I accompanied these words, madam, pursued Sir George, with so

passionate a look and accent, that the fair Sydimiris blushed, and for

a moment cast down her eyes with a visible confusion. At last,--

Sir, replied she, I am too well satisfied with what I have done with

respect to your safety, to require any proofs of your gratitude that

might be dangerous to it; and shall remain extremely well satisfied, if

the obligations you think you owe me may induce you to moderate your

resentment against my brother, for the cruel treatment you received

from him.

Doubt not, madam, interrupted I, eagerly, but I shall, in the person

of Marcomire, regard the brother of the divine Sydimiris; and that

consideration will be sufficient not only to make me forget all the

violences he committed against me, but even to defend his life, if need

be, with the hazard of my own.

Excessively generous indeed! said Sir Charles: I never heard any thing

like it.

Oh! dear sir, replied Arabella, there are numberless instances of equal

and even superior generosity to be met with in the lives of the heroes

of antiquity. You will there see a lover, whose mistress has been taken

from him either by treachery or force, venture his life in defence of

the injurious husband who possesses her; and though all his felicity

depends upon his death, yet he will rescue him from it at the expense

of the greater part of his blood.

Another, who, after a long and bloody war, has, by taking his enemy

prisoner, an opportunity of terminating it honourably; yet, through an

heroic principle of generosity, he gives his captive liberty, without

making any conditions, and has all his work to do over again.

A third, having contracted a violent friendship with the enemies of his

country, through the same generous sentiments, draws his sword in their

defence, and makes no scruple to fight against an army where the king

his father is in person.

I must confess, said Sir Charles, that generosity seems to me very

peculiar, that will make a man fight for his enemies against his own

father.

It is in that peculiarity, sir, said Arabella, that his generosity

consists; for certainly there is nothing extraordinary in fighting for

one's father and one's country; but when a man has arrived to such

a pitch of greatness of soul as to neglect those mean and selfish

considerations, and, loving virtue in the persons of his enemies,

can prefer their glory before his own particular interest, he is

then a perfect hero indeed. Such an one was Oroondates, Artaxerxes,

and many others I could name, who all gave eminent proofs of their

disinterestedness and greatness of soul upon the like occasions:

therefore, not to detract from Sir George's merit, I must still insist,

that in the resolutions he had taken to defend his enemy's life at

the expense of his own, he did no more than what any man of ordinary

generosity ought to do, and what he was particularly obliged to, by

what the amiable Sydimiris had done for him.

I was so happy, however, madam, continued Sir George, to find that

those expressions of my gratitude wrought somewhat upon the heart

of the lovely Sydimiris in my favour: her words discovered as much,

and her eyes spoke yet more intelligibly; but our conversation was

interrupted by the discreet Urinoe, who, fearing the consequence of so

long a stay in her chamber, represented to me that it was time to take

my leave.

I turned pale at this cruel sound; and, beholding Sydimiris with a

languishing look,--

Would to Heaven, madam, said I, that instead of giving me liberty, you

would keep me eternally your prisoner! for though a dungeon was to be

the place of my confinement, yet if it was near you, it would seem a

palace to me; for indeed I am no longer in a condition to relish that

freedom you bestow upon me, since it must remove me farther from you.

But I beseech you, madam, to believe that in delivering me from your

brother's fetters, you have cast me into your own, and that I am more

a prisoner than ever; but a prisoner to so lovely a conqueror, that

I do not wish to break my chains, and prefer the sweet and glorious

captivity I am in to all the crowns in the world.

You are very bold, said Sydimiris, blushing, to entertain me with such

discourse; yet I pardon this offence, in consideration of what you

have suffered from my brother, and on condition that you will depart

immediately, without speaking another word.

Sydimiris spoke this so earnestly, that I durst not disobey her; and

kissing the hem of her robe with a passionate air, I left her chamber,

conducted by Urinoe; who having brought me to a private door, which

carried us into the street, I there found a man waiting for me, whom I

knew to be the same that had attended me during my stay in that house.

Urinoe having recommended to him to see me safe out of the town, I took

leave of her with the most grateful acknowledgments for her kindness;

and followed my conductor, so oppressed with grief at the thoughts of

leaving the place where Sydimiris was, that I had hardly strength to

walk.

Chapter V.

_An extraordinary instance of generosity in a lover, somewhat

resembling that of the great Artaxerxes in Cassandra._

The farther I went, continued Sir George, the more my regret increased;

and finding it would be impossible to live and quit the divine

Sydimiris, I all at once took a resolution to remain in the town

concealed; and, communicating my design to my guide, I engaged him to

assist me in it by a present of a considerable sum, which he could

not resist. Accordingly he left me in a remote part of the town, and

went to find out a convenient lodging for me; which he soon procured,

and also a suit of clothes to disguise me, my own being very rich and

magnificent.

Having recommended me as a relation of his, who was newly arrived, I

was received very civilly by the people with whom he placed me; and

finding this young man to be very witty and discreet, and also very

capable of serving me, I communicated to him my intentions by staying,

which were only to be near the divine Sydimiris, and to have the

happiness of sometimes seeing her when she went abroad.

This man entering into my meaning, assured me he would faithfully keep

my secret; and that he would not fail to bring me intelligence of all

that passed in the palace of Marcomire.

I could with difficulty keep myself from falling at his feet to express

my sense of his kind and generous offers; but I contented myself with

presenting him another sum of money, larger than the first, and assured

him of my future gratitude.

He then took leave, and left me to my reflections, which were wholly

upon the image of the divine Sydimiris, and the happiness of being so

near the object I adored.

My confidant came to me the next day; but brought me no other news than

that my escape was not yet known to Marcomire. I enquired if he had

seen Sydimiris; but he replied he had not, and that Urinoe had only

asked him if he had conducted me safe out of town: to which he had

answered, as we had agreed, that I had got out safe and undiscovered.

A day or two after, he brought me news more pleasing: for he told me

that Sydimiris had sent for him into her chamber, and asked him several

questions concerning me; that she appeared very melancholy, and even

blushed whenever she mentioned my name.

This account gave sufficient matter for my thoughts to work upon for

several days. I interpreted Sydimiris's blush a thousand different

ways: I reflected upon all the different causes to which it might be

owing, and busied myself with all those innumerable conjectures, which,

as you know, madam, such an incident always gives rise to in a lover's

imagination. At length I explained it to my own advantage, and felt

thereby a considerable increase of my affection.

A whole week having elapsed without another sight of my confidant, I

began to be greatly alarmed; when, on the eighth day of this cruel

suspense, I saw him appear; but with so many marks of disturbance in

his face, that I trembled to hear what he had to acquaint me with.

Oh! sir, said he, as soon as his concern suffered him to speak,

Marcomire has discovered your escape, and the means by which it was

procured. One of those in whom Urinoe confided, has betrayed it to him;

and the beauteous Sydimiris is likely to feel the most terrible effects

of his displeasure. He has confined her to her chamber, and vows to

sacrifice her life to the honour of his family; which, he says, she has

stained; and he loads that admirable lady with so many reproaches, that

it is thought her grief for such undeserved calumnies will occasion her

death.

Scarce had he finished these cruel words, when I, who, all the time he

had been speaking, beheld him with a dying eye, sunk down at his feet

in a swoon; which continued so long that he began to think me quite

dead: however, I at last opened my eyes; but it was only to pour forth

a river of tears, and to utter complaints which might have moved the

most obdurate heart.

After having a long time tormented myself in weeping and complaining,

I at last took a resolution which afforded me some alleviation of my

grief; and the faithful Toxares, seeing me a little composed, left me

to myself, with a promise to return soon, and acquaint me with what

passed further in the palace of Marcomire.

As soon as he was gone, I rose from my bed; and, dressing myself in

those clothes I wore when I was taken prisoner, I went to the palace

of Marcomire; and, demanding to see him, I was told he was in the

apartment of Sydimiris; and at my earnest desire they conducted me

thither.

When I entered the room, I beheld that incomparable beauty stretched

upon a couch, dissolved in tears; and Urinoe upon her knees before her,

accompanying with her own those precious drops which fell from the

bright eyes of her mistress.

Marcomire, who was walking furiously about the room, exclaiming with

the utmost violence against that fair sufferer, did not observe my

entrance; so that I had an opportunity of going towards Sydimiris, who

lifting up her eyes to look upon me, gave a loud shriek; and, by a look

of extreme anguish, let me understand how great her apprehensions were

upon my account.

I am come, madam, said I, to perform part of the promise I made you,

and by dying, to prove your innocence; and, freeing you from the

reproaches you suffer on my account, I shall have the happiness to

convince you that my life is infinitely less dear to me than your

tranquillity. Sydimiris, who hearkened to me with great emotion, was

going to make some answer, when Marcomire, alarmed by his sister's

shriek, came towards us, and, viewing me at first with astonishment,