more alarmed as her superior age and experience rendered her more
apprehensive; but she knew not what to advise.
In this dilemma Miss Melvyn had recourse to their good friend, whose
knowledge of mankind, his integrity and prudence, rendered him the
safest guide. Accordingly one day when Louisa was called from them to Mr
Hintman, who came to make her a visit, Miss Melvyn informed Mr d'Avora
of the reason why her friend obeyed the summons with less joy than he
had observed in her on the like occasion the year before.
Mr d'Avora was much disturbed at this information; but not choosing to
increase the uneasiness the young ladies seemed to be under till he had
more certain foundation for his opinion, he only intimated, that customs
were hard to break, but he should hope, that when Mr Hintman reflected
on the impropriety of behaving to a young woman as if she was still a
child, he would alter it, and if he was not immediately sensible of the
difference a small addition of age makes, yet her behaviour would lead
him to recollect it.
Although Mr d'Avora seemed to pay little regard to what Miss Melvyn
said, yet it made great impression on him, and as soon as he left her,
he took all proper measures to enquire into the character, and usual
conduct of Mr Hintman.
This scrutiny did not turn out at all to his satisfaction, every account
he received was the same; he had not the pleasure of finding what is
usually asserted, that 'all men have two characters'; for Mr Hintman had
but one, and that the most alarming that could be for Miss Mancel. Every
person told him that Mr Hintman had a very great fortune, which he spent
entirely in the gratification of his favourite vice, the love of women;
on whom his profuseness was boundless. That as he was easily captivated,
so he was soon tired; and seldom kept a woman long after he had obtained
the free possession of her; but generally was more bountiful than is
customary with men of his debauched principles at parting with them.
This, Mr d'Avora was assured, was Mr Hintman's only vice; that he was
good-natured, and generous on all occasions. From this account he saw
too great reason to fear, that all the care which had been taken to
improve Miss Mancel arose only from a sort of epicurism in his
predominant vice, but yet this was too doubtful a circumstance to be the
ground-work of any plan of action. A man of acknowledged generosity and
good-nature, however vicious, might do a noble action without having any
criminal design. In this uncertainty of mind he knew not what to advise
her, and was unwilling to excite such fears in the breasts of these two
young friends, as might be groundless; but yet would entirely destroy
their peace, therefore, he only told Miss Melvyn in general terms, that
Mr Hintman's character was such, as rendered it very necessary that
Louisa should be much on her guard; but that whether more than prudent
caution, and decent reserve were requisite, her own observation must
discover, for no one else could determine that point, since he had the
reputation of being generous as well as debauched; therefore his actions
towards her might be, and he hoped were, the result of his greatest
virtue, rather than of his predominant vice.
Miss Melvyn made a faithful report of what Mr d'Avora had said to her,
which filled both herself and her friend with inexpressible uneasiness.
Louisa was in great difficulty how to act, between gratitude and
affection on the one side, and necessary caution and reserve on the
other. She was almost as much afraid of appearing ungrateful, as of
being imprudent. She found little assistance from the advice of her
friends, who declared them selves incapable of directing her, therefore
she was obliged to lay aside all dependence on her own care, and to
trust in that of heaven, convinced that her innocence would be guarded
by that power who knew the integrity and purity of her heart; and that
while she preserved it unblemished, even in thought and inclination, her
prayers for his protection would not be unavailing.
The remainder of the winter passed like the former part, only that the
increase of her apprehensions so far lessened her easy vivacity, that Mr
Hintman observed the alteration, and complained of the constraint and
awe which damped her conversation.
As the school broke up at Easter, he intreated her to accompany him that
short time into the country, from which she would gladly have excused
herself, both on account of her fears, and of her unwillingness to leave
Miss Melvyn, of whose conversation she was now more particularly
tenacious, as Lady Melvyn had determined to suffer her to return home in
a short time, not knowing how to excuse her remaining longer at school,
as she was entered into her one and twentieth year. Miss Melvyn would
have been glad that her ladyship had not shewn this token of regard to
popular opinion; for since she had enjoyed Miss Mancel's company, and
been in possession of so good a collection of books, she was grown
perfectly contented with her situation.
Louisa, to make Mr Hintman desist from the request he urged with so much
importunity, tried every means that did not appear like a total
disinclination to accompany him, for any thing that bore the air of
ingratitude could not be supported by her, whose heart was so void of
it, and who thought she could never feel enough for her benefactor, if
his designs were not so criminal as she feared, but scarcely could
suffer herself to suspect.
Mr Hintman was too ardent in his purposes to give up his favourite
scheme, and Louisa beheld with inexpressible concern the day approach,
when she must either accompany him into the country, or disoblige him
for ever, and make herself appear extremely ungrateful in the eyes of a
man whom she loved and honoured like a father. Her addresses to heaven
for protection now became more vehement and continual, and the greatest
part of her time was spent on her knees in praying to that power in whom
she trusted. Miss Melvyn and Mr d'Avora were scarcely less anxious, or
under fewer apprehensions than herself, but could see no resource except
in the protection of the Almighty, to whom we seldom apply with entire
faith and resignation while we have any hopes in human assistance.
Two days before that fixed on for the purposed journey, when Louisa's
anxiety was risen to the utmost height, the schoolmistress entered the
room, with a countenance so melancholy, as was more suitable to the
situation of mind in which the two young friends were then in, than to
any reason they apprehended she could have for an air of so much sorrow.
She soon began a discourse, which they immediately apprehended was
preparatory to the opening of some fatal event, and which, as is usual
in such cases, was, if possible, more alarming than any misfortune it
could precede. The ladies expressed their fears, and begged to be
acquainted with what had befallen them. After considerable efforts to
deliver her of the secret with which she was pregnant, they learnt that
a gentleman was in the parlour, who came to inform Miss Mancel that Mr
Hintman died the day before in a fit of an apoplexy.
All Louisa's fears and suspicions vanished at once, and grief alone took
possession of her heart. The shock so entirely overcame her, that she
was not able to see the fatal messenger of such melancholy tidings as
the death of her benefactor, and second father. Miss Melvyn was obliged
to undertake this office, and learnt from the gentleman that Mr Hintman
died without a will, and therefore left the poor Louisa as destitute,
except being enriched by various accomplishments, as he found her, and
at a much more dangerous time, when her beauty would scarcely suffer
compassion to arise unaccompanied with softer sentiments. This gentleman
proceeded to inform Miss Melvyn, that his father and another person of
equal relation to Mr Hintman were heirs at law. He expressed great
concern for Miss Mancel, and wished he had his father's power of
repairing Mr Hintman's neglect, but that his influence extended no
farther than to obtain a commission to pay the expenses of another year
at that school, that the young lady might have time to recollect herself
after so fatal a change, and determine at leisure on her future course
of life.
Miss Melvyn was so sensibly touched at the prospect of the approaching
distress with which her friend was threatened, that she burst into tears
and uttered some exclamations concerning 'the inconsistency of that
affection, which could suffer a man to rest a moment without securing a
provision in case of death, to a young woman he seemed to love with the
greatest excess of tenderness'. 'Believe me, madam,' said the young
gentleman, 'Mr Hintman was capable of no love that was not entirely
sensual, and consequently selfish; all who knew him lamented the fate of
a young woman, who by every account is so superiorly lovely. Among his
friends he made no secret of his designs in all he had done for her, and
boasted frequently of the extraordinary charms which were ripening for
his possession. It was but two days ago, that he was exulting in the
presence of some of them, that the time was now approaching, when he
should be rewarded for long expectation, and boundless expense; for he
should then, he said, be sure of her person, and had long secured her
heart. He knew he had strong prejudices and strange scruples to combat;
but was prepared, and should not find them difficult to conquer; at
worst, his steward in a parson's habit would lull them all to sleep.'
'Good heaven!' cried Miss Melvyn, 'could there be such a wretch, and
were there men who would keep company with him, who would bear the
disgrace of being called his friends?'
'Your notions, madam,' replied the gentleman, 'are too refined for
persons who live in the world: should a man insist on strict morals in
all his acquaintance, he might enjoy a solitude in the most populous
city; though, I confess, nothing but ties of kindred could have made me
intimate with one of Mr Hintman's character, which I should not thus
have exposed to you, but as I imagined a better knowledge of the man
might alleviate the affliction you seemed to feel for Miss Mancel's
having lost one whom you esteemed so sincere a friend. I should have
been glad,' continued he, 'could I have seen the young lady, of whom Mr
Hintman told such wonders; but I will not presume to press it, time may
offer me some opportunity for satisfying my curiosity without paining
her, I therefore take my leave, with only requesting your permission to
remit the money of which I was made the bearer.'
Miss Melvyn was so much affected with her friend's situation, that she
took the paper the gentleman offered her, without having power to
reflect whether she ought to accept it, or being able to make him any
acknowledgement; and he retired directly. She was obliged to stay some
time to compose her spirits before she went to her friend, that she
might be the better able to comfort her. On examining the paper, she
found it a bank-note of an hundred pounds, which was now become all Miss
Mancel's fortune.
Lamont could not forbear interrupting Mrs Maynard in this place, by some
very severe reflections on Mr Hintman's having neglected to make a
provision for Miss Mancel in case of his death, which I believe was the
part of his conduct that to Lamont appeared most inexcusable; for though
he is too fashionable to think intriguing very criminal, yet he is
naturally generous, as far as money is concerned. 'I cannot think,'
replied my cousin, 'that Mr Hintman's behaviour in that particular can
be much wondered at. Death to such a man must be so dreadful an event,
that he will naturally endeavour to banish it from his mind, whenever it
attempts to intrude, and when a person takes so little care to make
provision for his own happiness after death, is it strange he should be
unmindful of what shall befall another after that fatal period? When a
man neglects his own soul, and deprives himself of all hope of
everlasting felicity, can we expect he should take any trouble to
provide for the temporal convenience of another person?
'Besides, could he, who aimed at reducing an innocent and amiable young
woman to guilt and infamy in this world, and eternal perdition in the
next, be under any concern lest she should fall into the lesser miseries
of poverty? It would have been an inconsistency in such a character.'
'You see gallantry in a very serious light, madam,' said Lamont.
'I do indeed, sir,' answered Mrs Maynard, 'I look on it as the most
dangerous of vices, it destroys truth, honour, humanity, it is directly
contrary to the laws of God, is the destruction of society, and almost
as inconsistent with morality as with religion.'
'I beg pardon, madam,' interrupted Lamont (who felt himself a little
touched with what she said), 'for breaking into your narrative, and must
beg you will continue it.'
Miss Melvyn, resumed Mrs Maynard, was too well acquainted with the
strength of Louisa's mind to think it necessary to conceal from her any
part of what had passed between herself and Mr Hintman's relation.
Louisa, much affected by Mr Hintman's dying, with a heart so unfit to
appear at the tribunal before which he was so suddenly summoned, thought
not immediately of herself; but when she reflected on the dangers she
had escaped, she blessed her poverty, since it was the consequence of an
event which delivered her from so much greater evils, and sent up many
sincere and ardent thanksgivings to heaven, for so signal a
preservation. These thoughts possessed our young friends for the first
three or four days after Mr Hintman's death; but then they began to
think it requisite to consult with Mr d'Avora, on what course of life it
was most advisable for Miss Mancel to enter. This was a difficult point
to determine; though her understanding and attainments were far superior
to her years, yet they were sensible her youth would be a great
impediment to her in any undertaking. Mr d'Avora therefore advised that
she should continue a little longer at the school, and then fix in the
most private manner imaginable for three or four years, by which time he
hoped to be able to establish her in some widow's family, as governess
to her children; for he told her she must not expect, while her person
continued such as it then was, that a married woman would receive her in
any capacity that fixed her in the same house with her husband.
As Miss Mancel had many jewels and trinkets of value, she had no doubt
but that with economy she might support herself for the term Mr d'Avora
mentioned, and even longer if requisite, as she could add to her little
fund by the produce of her industry. As Miss Melvyn's return home drew
near, it was agreed that she should seek out some place in Sir Charles's
neighbourhood where Louisa might lodge cheaply and reputably; and in the
mean time Mr d'Avora should dispose of whatever she had of value, except
her books and her harpsichord; these she resolved not to part with till
the produce of her other things, and the money she had by her, was
spent, as they would not only amuse her in the country, but afford her
the power of improving herself in those accomplishments which were to be
her future provision.
This plan softened the pangs of separation when the time of Miss
Melvyn's departure arrived. It was not long before she found out an
apartment at a reputable farmer's, where Miss Mancel might lodge
conveniently. Had it been a less tolerable place, its vicinity to Sir
Charles's house, from which it was but a quarter of a mile distant,
would have made it a very delightful abode to her, and she soon repaired
thither.
Great was the joy of the two friends at meeting. Miss Melvyn's situation
at home was rendered as irksome as possible by Lady Melvyn's behaviour
both to her and Sir Charles who, notwithstanding her ill treatment, was
extremely fond of, and totally guided by her. His mind was so entirely
enslaved that he beheld nothing but in the light wherein she pleased to
represent it, and was so easy a dupe, that she could scarcely feel the
joys of self triumph in her superior art, which was on no subject so
constantly exerted, as in keeping up a coldness in Sir Charles towards
his daughter; this she had with tolerable facility effected in her
absence, and was assiduously careful to preserve now she was present. To
those who know not the power an artful woman can obtain over a weak
man, it would appear incredible that any father could be prejudiced
against a daughter whose whole attention was to please him. She had so
perfect a command over her temper that she never appeared to take
offence at any thing Lady Melvyn said or did, though that lady
endeavoured by every provocation to throw her off her guard. This
behaviour only increased her hatred, which was not in the least abated
by Miss Melvyn's taking every opportunity of being serviceable to her
half-brothers and sisters. Lady Melvyn persuaded Sir Charles that his
daughter's calmness was only assumed in his presence, and continually
complained of her insolence when he was not by. If he ever appeared to
doubt the truth of her report, she would burst into tears, complain of
his want of love and little confidence in her, and sometimes thought
proper to shew her grief at such treatment by a pretended hysteric fit,
always ready at call to come to her assistance, though really so
unnecessarily lavished on one easily duped without those laborious
means, that it appeared a wantonness of cunning, which was thus exerted
only for its own indulgence. She soon perceived that Miss Melvyn rather
chose to submit to any aspersions, than to render her father unhappy by
undeceiving him; and taking advantage of this generosity, would
sometimes, to establish his opinion of her veracity, accuse Miss Melvyn
to her face of offences which she had never committed, and things she
had never said.
In such a situation the arrival of a friend, into whose sympathetic
bosom she could pour all her griefs, and in whose delightful society she
could forget them, was the highest blessing. But Lady Melvyn contrived
to make her feel mortifications even in this tenderest particular, for
though she was in her heart glad to have her out of the house, that she
might not be witness of much improper behaviour, yet she would sometimes
mortify herself in order to tease Miss Melvyn, by preventing her from
going to her beloved friend; and continually alleged her spending so
much time with Louisa as a proof of the aversion she had made Sir
Charles believe Miss Melvyn had to her.
Louisa felt deeply her friend's uneasiness, but when they were together
they could not be unhappy. They seldom passed a day without seeing each
other, but as Lady Melvyn had taken no notice of Louisa, she could not
go to her house, therefore their meetings were at her lodgings, where
they often read together, and at other times would apply to music to
drive away melancholy reflections. As Louisa wished to remain near her
friend as long as possible, she endeavoured, by taking in plain-work, to
provide for some part of her current expenses, the less to diminish the
little fund she had by her. She likewise employed part of her time in
painting, having reason to hope that if she could find a means of
offering her pictures to sale, she might from them raise a very
convenient sum. While she was thus contriving to enable herself to enjoy
for many years the conversation of her friend, Lady Melvyn was as
industriously laying schemes that, if successful, must disappoint all
the young ladies' hopes.
Towards the end of the autumn, Mr Morgan, a man of fortune who had spent
above half a year in a fruitless pursuit after health, made a visit to a
gentleman in the neighbourhood. Unfortunately Miss Melvyn's charms made
a conquest of this gentleman, in whom age had not gained a victory over
passion. Miss Melvyn's humility occasioned her being the last person who
perceived the impression she had made on his heart, and his age would
scarcely suffer her to believe her senses when the symptoms became most
apparent. A girl may find some amusement in a young lover, though she
feels no disposition in herself to return his passion, her vanity is
flattered by his addresses, and a woman must be very little disposed to
be pleased, who receives no pleasure from one who is continually
endeavouring to oblige and amuse her; but the most whimsical of the
poets never fancied a grey-bearded Cupid, or represented Hymen with a
torch in one hand, and a crutch in the other. I allow that
'Oft the matrimonial Cupid,
Lash'd on by time grows tir'd and stupid,'
and does not always wear that blooming joyous countenance, which the
painters give him; but should any capricious artist take the sickle out
of the hand of old Time, and in its place put Hymen's torch, the picture
might be thought very unnatural, yet would represent a proper hymeneal
Cupid to attend Mr Morgan to the altar.
Such a lover could excite no emotion in his mistress's heart but
disgust. Miss Melvyn's principles were too delicate to suffer her to
think she had any title to ridicule a man for his partiality to her,
however ill-suited to himself; but no consideration could prevent his
addresses from being extremely disagreeable: however, she could without
any great difficulty have so far commanded herself, as to have treated
him with complaisance, till he gave her an opportunity of rejecting his
courtship, had she not been apprehensive that this affair would give
Lady Melvyn a new subject for persecution. She was pretty certain that
lady would be glad to settle her in another county; and that her
averseness to so ill-suited a marriage would only serve as an additional
recommendation to her mother. She was indeed determined in justice to Mr
Morgan and compassion to herself, not to be induced by any solicitations
to marry a man whom she could not hope that even the strongest
attachment to duty could render so well as indifferent to her, but she
dreaded the means that might be taken to oblige her to accept Mr
Morgan's proposal.
Little did she guess what those means would be. She expected to be
attacked alternately with all the violence of passion, the affected
softness of dissimulation, and every art that cunning could devise, to
force Sir Charles to concur in her persecution. These indeed were
employed as soon as Mr Morgan made his proposals; but her ladyship had
too many resources in her fertile brain to persevere long in a course
she found unavailing. The farmer where Miss Mancel lodged had a son, who
was in treaty with Lady Melvyn for a farm, which at the end of the year
would become vacant. This person she thought fit for her purpose, as
Miss Melvyn's going so frequently to Miss Mancel might give some colour
to her invention. She therefore took care to be found by Sir Charles
drowned in tears; he pressed to know the occasion of her grief, but she
resisted his importunity in such a manner as could not fail to increase
it, still she declared, that she loved him to that excess she could not
communicate a secret which she knew must afflict him, even though the
suppression and inward preyings of her sorrow should prove fatal to her
life.
Sir Charles now on his knees intreated her to acquaint him with the
misfortune she endeavoured to conceal, assuring her, that nothing could
give him so much concern as seeing her in that condition. She told him
she was sensible, that as his wife it was her duty to obey him (a duty
newly discovered, or at least newly performed by her ladyship); but she
feared she had not strength left to give it utterance. The endeavour
threw her into a hysteric fit, which was succeeded by so many others
that Sir Charles was almost frantic with his fears for so tender a wife,
who was thus reduced to the last agonies by her affectionate
apprehensions of giving him pain.