It was not without difficulty that I contrived to give up my usual
seat; but I was determined to adhere to the promise in my yesterday's
letter, though I saw that Lord Orville seemed quite confounded at my
visible endeavours to avoid him.
After dinner, we all went into the drawing-room together, as there
were no gentlemen to detain his Lordship; and then, before I could
place myself out of his way, he said, "You are then really going to
the assembly?-May I ask if you shall dance?"
"I believe not,-my Lord."
"If I did not fear," continued he, "that you would be tired of the same
partner at two following assemblies, I would give up my letter-writing
till to-morrow evening, and solicit the honour of your hand."
"If I do dance," said I, in great confusion, "I believe I am engaged."
"Engaged!" cried he, with earnestness, "May I ask to whom?"
"To-Sir Clement Willoughby, my Lord."
He said nothing, but looked very little pleased, and did not address
himself to me any more all the afternoon. Oh, Sir!-thus situated,
how comfortless were the feelings of your Evelina!
Early in the evening, with his accustomed assiduity, Sir Clement came
to conduct us to the assembly. He soon contrived to seat himself
next me, and, in a low voice, paid me so many compliments, that I
knew not which way to look.
Lord Orville hardly spoke a word, and his countenance was grave and
thoughtful; yet, whenever I raised my eyes, his, I perceived, were
directed towards me, though instantly, upon meeting mine, he looked
another way.
In a short time, Sir Clement, taking from his pocket a folded paper,
said, almost in a whisper, "Here, loveliest of women, you will
see a faint, an unsuccessful attempt to paint the object of all my
adoration! yet, weak as are the lines for the purpose, I envy beyond
expression the happy mortal who has dared make the effort."
"I will look at them," said I, "some other time." For, conscious
that I was observed by Lord Orville, I could not bear he should see
me take a written paper, so privately offered, from Sir Clement. But
Sir Clement is an impracticable man, and I never succeeded in any
attempt to frustrate whatever he had planned.
"No," said he, still in a whisper, "you must take them now, while
Lady Louisa is away;" for she and Mrs. Selwyn were gone up stairs to
finish their dress, "as she must by no means see them."
"Indeed," said I, "I have no intention to show them."
"But the only way," answered he, "to avoid suspicion, is to take
them in her absence. I would have read them aloud myself, but that
they are not proper to be seen by any body in this house, yourself
and Mrs. Selwyn excepted."
Then again he presented me the paper, which I now was obliged to take,
as I found declining it was vain. But I was sorry that this action
should be seen, and the whispering remarked, though the purport of
the conversation was left to conjecture.
As I held it in my hand, Sir Clement teazed me to look at it
immediately; and told me, the reason he could not produce the lines
publicly was, that among the ladies who were mentioned, and supposed
to be rejected, was Lady Louisa Larpent. I am much concerned at
this circumstance, as I cannot doubt but that it will render me more
disagreeable to her than ever, if she should hear of it.
I will now copy the verses, which Sir Clement would not let me rest
till I had read.
See last advance, with bashful grace,
Downcast eye, and blushing cheek,
Timid air, and beauteous face,
Anville,-whom the Graces seek.
Though ev'ry beauty is her own,
And though her mind each virtue fills,
Anville,-to her power unknown,
Artless strikes,-unconscious kills.
I am sure, my dear Sir, you will not wonder that a panegyric such
as this should, in reading, give me the greatest confusion; and,
unfortunately, before I had finished it, the ladies returned.
"What have you there, my dear?" said Mrs. Selwyn.
"Nothing, Ma'am," said I, hastily folding, and putting it in my pocket.
"And has nothing," cried she, "the power of rouge?"
I made no answer; a deep sigh, which escaped Lord Orville at that
moment, reached my ears, and gave me sensations-which I dare not
mention!
Lord Merton then handed Lady Louisa and Mrs. Beaumont to the latter's
carriage. Mrs. Selwyn led the way to Sir Clement's, who handed me in
after her.
During the ride I did not once speak; but when I came to the assembly
room, Sir Clement took care that I should not preserve my silence. He
asked me immediately to dance; I begged him to excuse me, and seek
some other partner. But on the contrary, he told me, he was very
glad I would sit still, as he had a million of things to say to me.
He then began to tell me, how much he had suffered from absence;
how greatly he was alarmed when he heard I had left town; and how
cruelly difficult he had found it to trace me; which, at last, he
could only do by sacrificing another week to Captain Mirvan.
"And Howard Grove," continued he, "which, at my first visit,
I thought the most delightful spot upon earth, now appeared to me
the most dismal: the face of the country seemed altered; the walks,
which I had thought most pleasant, were now most stupid: Lady Howard,
who had appeared a cheerful and respectable old lady, now appeared
in the common John Trot style of other aged dames: Mrs. Mirvan,
whom I had esteemed as an amiable piece of still-life, now became so
insipid, that I could hardly keep awake in her company: the daughter,
too, whom I had regarded as a good-humoured, pretty sort of a girl,
now seemed too insignificant for notice: and as to the Captain,
I had always thought him a booby,-but now he appeared a savage!"
"Indeed, Sir Clement," cried I, angrily, "I will not hear you speak
thus of my best friends."
"I beg your pardon," said he, "but the contrast of my two visits was
too striking not to be mentioned."
He then asked what I thought of the verses?
"Either," said I, "they are written ironically, or by some madman."
Such a profusion of compliments ensued, that I was obliged to propose
dancing, in my own defence. When we stood up, "I intended," said he,
"to have discovered the author by his looks; but I find you so much the
general loadstone of attention, that my suspicions change their object
every moment. Surely you must yourself have some knowledge who he is?"
I told him no. Yet, my dear Sir, I must own to you, I have no doubt
but that Mr. Macartney must be the author; no one else would speak
of me so partially; and, indeed, his poetical turn puts it, with me,
beyond dispute.
He asked me a thousand questions concerning Lord Orville; how long he
had been at Bristol?-what time I had spent at Clifton?-whether he rode
out every morning?-whether I ever trusted myself in a phaeton? and
a multitude of other enquiries, all tending to discover if I was
honoured with much of his Lordship's attention, and all made with
his usual freedom and impetuosity.
Fortunately, as I much wished to retire early, Lady Louisa makes a
point of being the first who quit the rooms, and therefore we got
home in very tolerable time.
Lord Orville's reception of us was grave and cold: far from
distinguishing me, as usual, by particular civilities, Lady Louisa
herself could not have seen me enter the room with more frigid
unconcern, nor have more scrupulously avoided honouring me with any
notice. But chiefly I was struck to see, that he suffered Sir Clement,
who stayed supper, to sit between us, without any effort to prevent
him, though till then, he had seemed to be even tenacious of a seat
next mine.
This little circumstance affected me more than I can express; yet
I endeavoured to rejoice at it, since neglect and indifference from
him may be my best friends.-But, alas!-so suddenly, so abruptly to
forfeit his attention!-to lose his friendship!-Oh, Sir, these thoughts
pierced my soul!-scarce could I keep my seat; for not all my efforts
could restrain the tears from trickling down my cheeks: however,
as Lord Orville saw them not, for Sir Clement's head was constantly
between us, I tried to collect my spirits, and succeeded so far as
to keep my place with decency, till Sir Clement took leave; and then,
not daring to trust my eyes to meet those of Lord Orville, I retired.
I have been writing ever since; for, certain that I could not sleep,
I would not go to bed. Tell me, my dearest Sir, if you possibly
can, tell me that you approve my change of conduct,-tell me that
my altered behaviour to Lord Orville is right,-that my flying his
society, and avoiding his civilities, are actions which you would
have dictated.-Tell me this, and the sacrifices I have made will
comfort me in the midst of my regret,-for never, never can I cease
to regret that I have lost the friendship of Lord Orville!-Oh, Sir,
I have slighted,-have rejected,-have thrown it away!-No matter, it
was an honour I merited not to preserve; and now I see,-that my mind
was unequal to sustaining it without danger.
Yet so strong is the desire you have implanted in me to act with
uprightness and propriety, that, however the weakness of my heart
may distress and afflict me, it will never, I humbly trust, render
me wilfully culpable. The wish of doing well governs every other,
as far as concerns my conduct,-for am I not your child?-the creature
of your own forming!-Yet, Oh Sir, friend, parent, of my heart!-my
feelings are all at war with my duties! and, while I most struggle to
acquire self-approbation, my peace, my happiness, my hopes,-are lost!
'Tis you alone can compose a mind so cruelly agitated: you, I well
know, can feel pity for the weakness to which you are a stranger;
and, though you blame the affliction, soothe and comfort the afflicted.