She immediately ordered the chaise away: and then took me into her
own room, to consider what should be done.
A few minutes sufficed to determine her; and she wrote the following
note.
"To Sir John Belmont, Bart."
"MRS. SELWYN presents her compliments to Sir John Belmont;
and, if he is at leisure, will be glad to wait on him this
morning, upon business of importance."
She then ordered her man to enquire at the pump-room for a direction;
and went herself to Mrs. Beaumont to apologize for deferring her
journey.
An answer was presently returned, that Sir John would be glad to
see her.
She would have had me immediately accompany her to the Hot-Wells; but
I entreated her to spare me the distress of so abrupt an introduction,
and to pave the way for my reception. She consented rather reluctantly,
and, attended only by her servant, walked to the Wells.
She was not absent two hours; yet so miserably did time seem to
linger, that I thought a thousand accidents had happened, and feared
she would never return. I passed the whole time in my own room,
for I was too much agitated even to converse with Lord Orville.
The instant that, from my window, I saw her returning, I flew down
stairs, and met her in the garden.
We both walked to the arbour.
Her looks, in which both disappointment and anger were expressed,
presently announced to me the failure of her embassy. Finding that
she did not speak, I asked her, in a faltering voice, whether or not
I had a father?
"You have not, my dear!" said she abruptly.
"Very well, Madam," said I, with tolerable calmness, "let the chaise
then be ordered again;-I will go to Berry Hill;-and there, I trust,
I shall still find one!"
It was some time ere she could give, or I could hear, the account of
her visit; and then she related it in a hasty manner; yet, I believe
I can recollect every word.
"I found Sir John alone. He received me with the utmost politeness. I
did not keep him a moment in suspense as to the purport of my
visit. But I had no sooner made it known, than, with a supercilious
smile, he said, 'And have you, Madam, been prevailed upon to revive
that ridiculous old story?' Ridiculous, I told him, was a term which
he would find no one else do him the favour to make use of, in speaking
of the horrible actions belonging to the old story he made so light of;
'actions' continued I, 'which would dye still deeper the black annals
of Nero or Caligula.' He attempted in vain to rally; for I pursued him
with all the severity in my power, and ceased not painting the enormity
of his crime till I stung him to the quick, and, in a voice of passion
and impatience, he said, 'No more, Madam,-this is not a subject upon
which I need a monitor.' 'Make then,' cried I, 'the only reparation
in your power.-Your daughter is now at Clifton; send for her hither;
and, in the face of the world, proclaim the legitimacy of her birth,
and clear the reputation of your injured wife.' 'Madam,' said he,
'you are much mistaken, if you suppose I waited for the honour of this
visit before I did what little justice now depends upon me, to the
memory of that unfortunate woman: her daughter has been my care from
her infancy; I have taken her into my house; she bears my name; and
she will be my sole heiress.' For some time this assertion appeared
so absurd, that I only laughed at it: but, at last, he assured me,
I had myself been imposed upon; for that very woman who attended
Lady Belmont in her last illness, conveyed the child to him while
he was in London, before she was a year old. 'Unwilling,' he added,
'at that time to confirm the rumour of my being married, I sent the
woman with the child to France: as soon as she was old enough, I put
her into a convent, where she has been properly educated, and now
I have taken her home. I have acknowledged her for my lawful child,
and paid, at length, to the memory of her unhappy mother a tribute
of fame, which has made me wish to hide myself hereafter from all
the world.' This whole story sounded so improbable, that I did not
scruple to tell him I discredited every word. He then rung his bell;
and, enquiring if his hair-dresser was come, said he was sorry to
leave me; but that, if I would favour him with my company to-morrow,
he would do himself the honour of introducing Miss Belmont to me,
instead of troubling me to introduce her to him. I rose in great
indignation; and assuring him I would make his conduct as public as
it was infamous-I left the house."
Good Heaven, how strange the recital! how incomprehensible an
affair! The Miss Belmont then who is actually at Bristol, passes
for the daughter of my unhappy mother!-passes, in short, for your
Evelina! Who she can be, or what this tale can mean, I have not
any idea.
Mrs. Selwyn soon after left me to my own reflections. Indeed they were
not very pleasant. Quietly as I had borne her relation, the moment
I was alone I felt most bitterly both the disgrace and sorrow of a
rejection so cruelly inexplicable.
I know not how long I might have continued in this situation, had
I not been awakened from my melancholy reverie by the voice of Lord
Orville. "May I come in," cried he, "or shall I interrupt you?"