Mr Francis had ordered his horse to be ready at five o'clock. I left
my chamber at four, to have the pleasure of preparing for him the last
friendly repast, and of saying _farewel_. He was serene and chearful as
usual, I somewhat more pensive; we parted with great cordiality, he
gave me his address in town, and engaged me to write to him shortly.
I accompanied him through the Park to the porter's lodge, where the
servant and horses waited his coming. My eyes glistened as I bade him
adieu, and reiterated my wishes for his safety and prosperity, while his
features softened into a more than usual benignity, as he returned my
salutation.
I wandered thoughtfully back towards the house, but the rich purple
that began to illumine the east, the harbinger of the rising sun, the
freshness of the morning air, the soft dews which already glittered on
every fragrant plant and flower, the solemn stillness, so grateful to
the reflecting mind, that pervaded the scene, induced me to prolong my
walk. Every object appeared in unison with my feelings, my heart swelled
with devotional affections, it aspired to the Author of nature. After
having bewildered ourselves amid systems and theories, religion, in such
situations, returns to the susceptible mind as a _sentiment_ rather than
as a principle. A passing cloud let fall a gentle, drizzling shower;
sheltered beneath the leafy umbrage of a spreading oak, I rather heard
than felt it; yet, the coolness it diffused seemed to quench those
ardent emotions, which are but too congenial with my disposition, while
the tumult of the passions subsided into a delicious tranquillity.
How mutable are human beings!--A very few hours converted this sublime
complacency into perturbation and tumult. Having extended my walk beyond
its accustomed limits, on my return, I retired, somewhat fatigued to my
apartment, and devoted the morning to my studies. At the dinner hour
I joined the family, each individual of which seemed wrapped up in
reserve, scarcely deigning to practise the common ceremonies of the
occasion. I was not sufficiently interested in the cause of these
appearances to make any enquiries, and willingly resigned myself, in
the intervals of the entertainment, to meditation.
When the table was cleared, and the servants had withdrawn, perceiving
the party not sociably inclined, I was about to retire--when Mrs Morton
observed, with features full of a meaning which I did not comprehend,
that--
'Their guest, Mr Francis, had, no doubt, left Morton Park gratefully
impressed by the _kindness_ of Miss Courtney.'
Montague reddened--bit his lips--got up--and sat down again. The young
ladies wore an air not perfectly good-humoured, and a little triumphant.
Mr Morton looked very solemn.
'I hope so, Madam,' I replied, somewhat carelessly. 'I felt myself
indebted to Mr Francis for his civilities, and was solicitous to make
him all the return in my power--I wish that power had been enlarged.'
She held up her hands and eyes with an affected, and ridiculous,
gesture.
'Mr Francis,' said Montague, abruptly, 'is very happy in having inspired
you with sentiments _so partial_.'
'I am not partial--I am merely just. Mr Francis appeared to me a
rational man, and my understanding was exercised and gratified by his
conversation.'
I was about to proceed, but my uncle (who seemed to have been tutored
for the occasion) interrupted me with much gravity.
'You are but little acquainted, Emma, with the customs of society; there
is great indecorum in a young lady's making these distinctions.'
'What distinctions, my dear Sir!--in prefering a reasonable man to fools
and coxcombs.'
'Forgive me, my dear--you have a quick wit, but you want experience. I
am informed, that you breakfasted with Mr Francis this morning, and
attended him through the Park:--this, with your late walk yesterday
evening, and evident emotion on your return, let me tell you, child,
wears an indecorous appearance:--the world is justly attentive to the
conduct of young women, and too apt to be censorious.'
I looked round me with unaffected surprize--'Good God!--did I suppose,
in this family, it was necessary to be upon my guard against malicious
constructions?'
'Pray,'--interrupted Sarah, pertly--'would you not have expressed some
surprize, had I shewed Mr Montague similar attentions?'
I looked at her, I believe, a little too contemptuously.--'Whatever
sentiments might have been excited in my mind by the attentions of Miss
Morton to Mr Montague, _surprize_, assuredly, would not have been among
them.'
She coloured, and Montague's passions began to rise. I stopped him at
the beginning of an impertinent harangue, by observing--
'That I did not think myself accountable to him for my conduct;--before
I should be solicitous respecting his opinions, he must give me better
reasons, than he had hitherto done, to respect his judgment.'
Ann wept, and prattled something, to which nobody thought it worth while
to attend.
'Well, Sir,' continued I, turning to Mr Morton, 'be pleased to give me,
in detail, what you have to alledge, that I may be enabled to justify
myself.'
'Will you allow me to ask you a question?'
'Most certainly.'
'Has Mr Francis engaged you to correspond with him?'
I was silent a few moments.
'You hesitate!'
'Only, Sir, _how_ to answer your question.--I certainly intend myself
the pleasure of addressing Mr Francis on paper; but I cannot strictly
say _he engaged_ me so to do, as it was a proposal he was led to make,
by conjecturing my wishes on the subject.'
Again, Mrs Morton, with uplifted hands and eyes--'What effrontery!'
I seemed not to hear her.--'Have you any thing more to say, my dear
uncle?'
'You are a strange girl. It would not, perhaps, be proper before this
company to enquire'--and he stopped.
'Any thing is proper, Sir, to enquire of me, and in any company--I have
no reserves, no secrets.'
'Well, then, I think it necessary to inform you, that, though a
sensible, well educated, liberal-minded, man, Mr Francis has neither
estate nor fortune, nor does he practise any lucrative profession.'
'I am sorry for it, on his own account; and for those whom his
generosity might benefit. But, what is it to me?'
'You affect to misunderstand me.'
'I _affect_ nothing.'
'I will speak more plainly:--Has he made you any proposals?'
The purport of this solemn, but ludicrous, preparation, at once flashed
upon my mind, the first time the thought had ever occurred. I laughed--I
could not help it.
'I considered Mr Francis as a _philosopher_, and not as a _lover_. Does
this satisfy you, Sir?'
My uncle's features, in spite of himself, relaxed into a half-smile.
'Very platonic--sweet simplicity!'--drauled out Mrs Morton, in ironical
accents.
'I will not be insulted, Mr Morton!' quitting my seat, and rising in
temper.--'I consider myself, merely, as your visitant, and not as
responsible to any one for my actions. Conscious of purity of intention,
and superior to all disguise or evasion, I was not aware of these
feminine, indelicate, unfriendly suggestions. If this behaviour be a
specimen of what I am to expect in the world--the world may do its
will--but I will never be its slave: while I have strength of mind
to form principles, and courage to act upon them, I am determined to
preserve my freedom, and trust to the general candour and good sense
of mankind to appreciate me justly. As the brother of my late father,
and as entitled to respect from your own kind intentions, I am
willing to enter into any explanations, which _you_, _Sir_, may think
necessary:--neither my motives, nor my actions, have ever yet shrunk
from investigation. Will you permit me to attend you in your library? It
is not my intention to intrude longer on your hospitality, and I could
wish to avail myself of your experience and counsels respecting my
future destination.'
Mr Morton, at my request, withdrew with me into the library, where I
quickly removed from his mind those injurious suspicions with which Mrs
Morton had laboured to inspire him. He would not hear of my removal from
the Park--apologized for what had passed--assured me of his friendship
and protection--and entreated me to consider his house as my home. There
was an honest warmth and sincerity in his manner, that sensibly affected
me; I could have wept; and I engaged, at his repeated request, not to
think, at present, of withdrawing myself from his protection. Thus we
separated.
How were the virtues of this really good man tarnished by an unsuitable
connection! In the giddy hours of youth, we thoughtlessly rush into
engagements, that fetter our minds, and affect our future characters,
without reflecting on the important consequences of our conduct. This is
a subject on which I have had occasion to reflect deeply; yet, alas! my
own boasted reason has been, but too often, the dupe of my imagination.