"I fear," he continued, "Miss Anville will think I persecute her:
yet so much as I have to say, and so much as I wish to hear, with so
few opportunities for either, she cannot wonder-and I hope she will
not be offended-that I seize with such avidity every moment in my
power to converse with her. You are grave," added he, taking my hand;
"I hope the pleasure it gives to me, will not be a subject of pain to
you? -You are silent!-Something, I am sure, has afflicted you:-would
to Heaven I were able to console you!-Would to Heaven I were worthy
to participate in your sorrows!"
My heart was too full to bear this kindness, and I could only answer by
my tears. "Good Heaven," cried he, "how you alarm me!-My love, my sweet
Miss Anville, deny me no longer to be the sharer of your griefs!-tell
me, at least, that you have not withdrawn your esteem!-that you do
not repent the goodness you have shown me!-that you still think me
the same grateful Orville, whose heart you have deigned to accept!"
"Oh, my Lord," cried I, "your generosity overpowers me!" And I wept
like an infant. For now, that all my hopes of being acknowledged
seemed finally crushed, I felt the nobleness of his disinterested
regard so forcibly, that I could scarce breathe under the weight of
gratitude which oppressed me.
He seemed greatly shocked; and, in terms the most flattering, the
most respectfully tender, he at once soothed my distress, and urged
me to tell him its cause.
"My Lord," said I, when I was able to speak, "you little know what
an outcast you have honoured with your choice!-a child of bounty,-an
orphan from infancy,-dependant, even for subsistence, dependent, upon
the kindness of compassion!-Rejected by my natural friends,-disowned
for ever by my nearest relation,-Oh, my Lord, so circumstanced,
can I deserve the distinction with which you honour me? No, no,
I feel the inequality too painfully;-you must leave me, my Lord;
you must suffer me to return to obscurity; and there, in the bosom
of my first, best, my only friend,-I will pour forth all the grief
of my heart!-while you, my Lord, must seek elsewhere-"
I could not proceed; my whole soul recoiled against the charge I
would have given, and my voice refused to utter it.
"Never," cried he, warmly, "my heart is your's, and I swear to you an
attachment eternal!-You prepare me, indeed, for a tale of horror, and
I am almost breathless with expectation;-but so firm is my conviction,
that, whatever are your misfortunes, to have merited them is not of the
number, that I feel myself more strongly, more invincibly devoted to
you than ever!-Tell me but where I may find this noble friend, whose
virtues you have already taught me to reverence,-and I will fly to
obtain his consent and intercession, that henceforward our fates my be
indissolubly united;-and then shall it be the sole study of my life to
endeavor to soften your past,-and guard you from future misfortunes!"
I had just raised my eyes to answer this most generous of men, when
the first object they met was Mrs. Selwyn.
"So, my dear," cried she, "what, still courting the rural shades!-I
thought ere now you would have been satiated with this retired seat,
and I have been seeking you all over the house. But I find the
only way to meet with you,-is to enquire for Lord Orville. However,
don't let me disturb your meditation; you are possibly planning some
pastoral dialogue."
And, with this provoking speech, she walked on.
In the greatest confusion I was quitting the arbour, when Lord Orville
said, "Permit me to follow Mrs. Selwyn;-it is time to put an end to
all impertinent conjectures; will you allow me to speak to her openly?"