which exceeded her expectation, though it was not sufficient to suffer
her to live in London with convenience. Lady Emilia invited her to her
house; and as the spring advanced, her ladyship inclining to pass the
fine season in the country, hired a house about a hundred miles from
London which she had formerly been fond of and was but just become
empty. She had been but little out of town for some years and went to
her new habitation with pleasure. Miss Selvyn bid adieu without regret
to every thing but Lady Mary Jones, for whom she had conceived a real
affection, which first took its rise from compassion and was
strengthened by the great docility with which she followed her advice
about Lord Robert, and the resolution with which she conquered her
inclination. Lady Mary grieved to lose one whom she esteemed so prudent
and faithful a friend, and considered her departure as a real
misfortune; but they agreed to keep up a regular correspondence as the
best substitute to conversation.
The country was perfectly agreeable to Lady Emilia and her young friend.
The life they led was most suitable to their inclinations, and winter
brought with it no desires to return to London; whereupon Lady Emilia
disposed of her house there and settled quite in the country. They were
both extremely fond of reading, and in this they spent most of their
time. Their regular way of life, and the benefits of air and exercise,
seemed to abate the dejection before so visible in Lady Emilia; and she
never appeared to want any other conversation than that of Miss Selvyn,
whom she loved with a tenderness so justly due to her merit.
After they had been settled about two years in the country, Lord Robert
St George, who was colonel of a regiment quartered in a town not far
from them, came to examine into the state of his regiment; and having at
that time no other engagement, and the lodgings he had taken just out of
the town being finely situated, he determined to make some stay there.
Here he renewed his slight acquaintance with Lady Emilia and Miss
Selvyn; and by favour of his vicinity saw them often. Lord Robert's
heart was too susceptible of soft impressions not to feel the influence
of Miss Selvyn's charms. He was strongly captivated by her excellent
understanding and engaging manner, as for her person, he had known many
more beautiful, though none more pleasing; but the uncommon turn of her
mind, her gentleness and sensible modesty, had attractions that were
irresistible.
Lord Robert's attachment soon became visible; but Miss Selvyn knew him
too well to think his addresses very flattering, and by his behaviour to
Lady Mary Jones feared some insulting declaration; but from these
apprehensions he soon delivered her. Real affection conquering that
assurance which nature had first given and success increased, he had not
courage to declare his passion to her, but applied to Lady Emilia to
acquaint her friend with his love, and begged her interest in his
behalf, fearing that without it Miss Selvyn's reserve would not suffer
her to listen to his addresses.
Lady Emilia promised to report all he had said, and accordingly gave
Miss Selvyn a circumstantial account of the whole conversation, wherein
Lord Robert had laid before her the state of his fortune, which was
sufficient for a woman of her prudence; and she added that she did not
see how Miss Selvyn could expect to be addressed by a man more eligible,
whether she considered his birth, his fortune, or his person and
accomplishments.
Miss Selvyn was a little surprised that so gay a man should take so
serious a resolution. She allowed the justness of what Lady Emilia said
in his favour and confessed that it was impossible Lord Robert could
fail of pleasing; but added that it could not be advisable for her to
marry: for enjoying perfect content, she had no benefit to expect from
change; and happiness was so scarce a commodity in this life that
whoever let it once slip, had little reason to expect to catch it again.
For what reason then should she alter her state? The same disposition
which would render Lord Robert's fortune sufficient made hers answer all
her wishes, since if she had not the joy of living with her ladyship, it
would still afford her every thing she desired.
Lady Emilia said some things in recommendation of marriage; and seemed
to think it improbable Miss Selvyn should not be a little prejudiced in
favour of so amiable a lover as Lord Robert, which tempted that young
lady to tell her that though she allowed him excessively pleasing, yet
by some particulars, which formerly came to her knowledge, she was
convinced his principles were such as would not make her happy in a
husband.
Lady Emilia allowed the force of such an objection, and did not press a
marriage, for which she had pleaded only out of an apprehension lest
Miss Selvyn's reserve might lead her to act contrary to her
inclinations; and therefore she had endeavoured to facilitate her
declaration in favour of Lord Robert, if she was in reality inclined to
accept his proposals. She acquiesced then readily in her friend's
determination; only desired she would herself acquaint Lord Robert with
it, as he would not easily be silenced by a refusal which did not
proceed from her own lips.
His lordship came in the evening to learn his fate, and Lady Emilia
having contrived to be absent, he found Miss Selvyn alone. Though this
was what he had wished, yet he was so disconcerted that Miss Selvyn was
reduced to begin the subject herself, and to tell him that Lady Emilia
had acquainted her with the honour he had done her, that she was much
obliged to him for his good opinion and hoped he would be happy with
some woman much more deserving than herself; but she could by no means
accept the favour he intended her, being so entirely happy in her
present situation that nothing in the world should induce her to change
it.
This declaration gave rise to a very warm contest, Lord Robert
soliciting her to accept his love with all the tenderness of the
strongest passion, and she with equal perseverance persisting in her
refusal. He could not be persuaded that her motive for doing so was
really what she alleged but as she continued to affirm it, he begged
however to know if she had not made so strange a resolution in favour of
a single life, whether she should have had any particular objection to
him?
Miss Selvyn shewed the uselessness of this question, since the reason of
her refusing the honour he intended her would have made her reject the
addresses of every other man in the world. Lord Robert could not believe
this possible and therefore desisted not from urging a question so
disagreeable to answer.
When Miss Selvyn found it impossible to avoid satisfying him in this
particular, she told him that if he were entirely unexceptionable, she
should be fixed in the same determination; but since he insisted on
knowing if she had any objection to him, she was obliged to confess
that had she been better inclined to enter into the matrimonial state,
his lordship was not the man she should have chosen, not from any
dislike to his person or understanding, but from disapprobation of his
principles; that, in regard to her sex he had a lightness in his way of
thinking and had been so criminal in his conduct that of all men she
knew, she thought him most improper for a husband.
Lord Robert was surprised at so new an objection, and told her, that he
did not apprehend himself more blamable in those respects than most
young men. Gallantry was suitable to his age, and he never imagined that
any woman would have reproached him with his regard for her sex, when he
gave so strong a proof of an inclination to leave them all for her.
'I am sorry,' replied Miss Selvyn, 'that your lordship thinks me mean
enough to take pleasure in such a triumph, or so vain as to imagine I
can reform a man of dissolute manners, the last thing I should hope or
endeavour to succeed in. Such a tincture of corruption will always
remain the mind of what you are pleased to term a gallant man, to whom I
should give the less polite appellation of vicious, that I could not be
happy in his society. A reformed rake may be sober, but is never
virtuous.'
Lord Robert growing very urgent to know what she had particularly to lay
to his charge, she told him frankly, that his treatment of Lady Mary
Jones had disgusted her, as she, and perhaps she only, had been
acquainted with the whole.
Lord Robert endeavoured to excuse himself on the encouragement Lady
Mary's levity had given to his hopes; observing that when a woman's
behaviour was very light, his sex were not apt to imagine there was any
great fund of virtue; nor could it be expected that any one else should
guard that honour of which she herself was careless.
'I am sure,' replied Miss Selvyn, 'your lordship's hopes must have been
founded on Lady Mary's folly, not her real want of innocence; a folly
which arose from the giddiness of youth and the hurry of dissipation;
for by nature Lady Mary's understanding is uncommonly good. By what you
say, you imagined her honour was lawful prize, because she appeared
careless of it; would this way of arguing be allowed in any other case?
If you observed a man who neglected to lock up his money, and seemed
totally indifferent what became of it, should you think yourself thereby
justified in robbing him? But how much more criminal would you be, were
you to deprive him of his wealth because he was either so thoughtless or
so weak as not to know its value? And yet surely the injury in this case
would be much less than what you think so justifiable. If the world has
but the least sense of real honour, in this light they must see it; and
to that tribunal I imagine you only think yourself answerable; for did
you reflect but one moment on another bar before which you will be
summoned, you would see there can be no excuse for violating the laws by
which you are there to be tried. If you could justify yourself to the
world, or to the women of whose folly you take advantage, by the
fallacious arguments which you have so ready for that purpose, such
cobweb sophistry cannot weaken the force of an express command.'
'I will not pretend,' answered Lord Robert, 'to deny the truth of what
you say, but must beg you will consider it more easy for you to urge
these truths, than for those to obey them who are exposed to and
susceptible of temptations. When a woman has no title to our respect,
how difficult is it to consider her in the light you require! Levity of
conduct we are apt to look upon as an invitation, which a man scarcely
thinks it consistent with his politeness to neglect.'
'I wish,' replied Miss Selvyn, 'that women were better acquainted with
the ways of thinking so common with your sex; for while they are
ignorant of them, they act to a great disadvantage. They obtain by that
levity which deprives them of your esteem, a degree of notice and
pretended liking which they mistake for approbation; did they but know
that you in your hearts despise those most to whom you are most
assiduously and openly attached, it would occasion a great change in
their behaviour; nor would they suffer an address to which they cannot
listen without incurring your contempt. How criminally deceitful is this
behaviour! And what real virtue can a man truly boast, who acts in this
manner? What woman in her senses can enter into a union for life with
such a man?'
'Why not, madam?' said Lord Robert. 'My behaviour to you shews that we
yield to merit the homage it deserves; you would lose all your triumph
were we to put you and the lighter part of your sex on an equality in
our opinions. We are always ready to esteem a woman who will give us
leave to do so; and can you require us to respect those who are not in
the least respectable?'
'No,' answered Miss Selvyn, 'I only wish you would cease your endeavours
to render those women objects of contempt, who deserve only to be
neglected, and particularly not to deprive them of the very small
portion of regard they are entitled to, by the fallacious appearance of
an attachment of the tenderest kind; which in reality arises from
contempt, not love. But,' added she, 'I have said more than I designed
on the subject; I only meant to answer the question you put to me with
so much importunity; and must now confirm what I have already declared,
by telling you that were I inclined to marry, I would not on any account
take a husband of your lordship's principles; but were you endowed with
all the virtues that ever man possessed, I would not change my present
happy situation for the uncertainties of wedlock.'
When Lord Robert found all his solicitations unavailing, he left the
country and returned to London, where he hoped, by a series of
diversions, to efface from his heart the real passion he had conceived
for Miss Selvyn. She forbore informing Lady Mary Jones, though their
correspondence was frequent, of Lord Robert's courtship; she did not
doubt but her ladyship was sincere when she assured her she now beheld
him with the indifference he deserved, but thought that to tell her she
had received so very different an address from him would bear too much
the air of a triumph, a meanness which her heart abhorred.
Lady Emilia and Miss Selvyn had lived several years in the country with
great rational enjoyment, when the former was seized with a fever. All
the skill of her physicians proved ineffectual, and her distemper
increased daily. She was sensible of the danger which threatened her
life, but insisted on their telling her, if they had any great hopes of
her recovery, assuring them that it was of importance to her to know
their opinions with the utmost frankness. Thus urged, they confessed
they had but little hopes. She then returned them thanks for their care,
but still more for their sincerity: and with the greatest composure took
leave of them, desiring to be left alone with Miss Selvyn, who was in
tears at her bedside. Every one else withdrew, when taking Miss Selvyn
in her arms, and shedding a few silent tears, she afterwards thus
addressed her.
'At the moment that I must bid you a long farewell, you will know that
you have a mother in her whom you before thought only your friend. Yes,
my dearest Harriot, I am your mother, ashamed of my weakness and shocked
at my guilt, while your gentle but virtuous eyes could reproach your
unhappy parent, I could not prevail on myself to discover this secret to
you, but I cannot carry to my grave the knowledge of a circumstance
which concerns you. Yes, you are my daughter, my child, ever most dear
to me, though the evidence and continual remembrancer of my crime.'
Miss Selvyn imagined the distemper had now seized Lady Emilia's brain,
which it had hitherto spared; and intreated her to compose herself,
assuring her that what so much agitated her decaying frame was only the
phantom of an overheated imagination; for her parents were well known,
neither was there any mystery in her birth.
'Oh!' interrupted Lady Emilia, 'do not suspect me of delirium; it has
pleased the Almighty to spare my senses throughout this severe disorder,
with a gracious design of allowing me even the last moments of my life
to complete my repentance. What I tell you is but true, Mr Selvyn knew
it all and like a man of honour saved me from shame by concealing the
fatal secret; and acted the part of a father to my Harriot, without
having any share in my guilt. But I see you do not yet believe me, take
this,' pulling a paper from under her pillow, 'herein you will find an
account of the whole unfortunate affair, written a year ago; lest at the
time of my death I should not be able to relate it; this will prove, by
the nice connection of every circumstance, that the words therein
contained are not the suggestions of madness.'
Miss Selvyn accordingly read as follows:
'When I was seventeen years old, Lord Peyton asked me of my father, but
not till after he had secured my tenderest affections. His estate was
sufficient to content a parent who was not regardless of fortune and
splendour; and his proposals were accepted. But while the tediousness of
the lawyers made us wait for the finishing of settlements, Lord Peyton,
who was in the army, was commanded to repair immediately to his
regiment, then stationed in Ireland. He endeavoured to prevail with my
father to hasten our marriage, offering every kind of security he could
desire, instead of the settlements so long delayed; my wishes concurred
with his, rather than suffer him to go without me into a kingdom which I
imagined would not prove very amusing to him. But my father, who was a
very exact observer of forms, would not consent to any expedient. No
security appeared to him equivalent to settlements; and many trifling
circumstances requisite to the splendour of our first appearance were
not ready; which to him seemed almost as important as the execution of
the marriage writings.
'When Lord Peyton found my father inexorable, he attempted to persuade
me to agree to a private marriage, only desiring, he said, to secure me
entirely his before he left the kingdom; and proposed, that after his
return, we should be publicly married, to prevent my father's suspecting
that we had anticipated his consent. But this I rejected; disobedience
to a parent, and other objections, were sufficient to make me refuse it;
and we saw ourselves reduced to separate when we were so near being
united. As Lord Peyton was an accepted lover, and our intended marriage
was publicly known, and generally approved, he passed great part of his
time with me. My father was obliged to go out of town on particular
business, the day before that appointed for Lord Peyton's departure. It
is natural to suppose we passed it entirely together. The concern we
were both under made us wish to avoid being seen by others, and
therefore I was denied to all visitors. Lord Peyton dined and supped
with me; and by thus appropriating the day to the ceremony of taking
leave, we rendered the approaching separation more afflicting than in
reason it ought to have been, and indeed made it a lasting affliction; a
grief never to be washed away.
'Lord Peyton left London at the appointed hour, but the next days, and
almost every succeeding post, brought me the tenderest expressions of
regret for this enforced absence, and the strongest assurances of the
constancy of his affection. Mine could not with truth be written in a
more indifferent strain, my love was the same, but my purpose was much
altered; as soon as I had calmness of mind enough to reflect on what had
passed, I resolved never to be Lord Peyton's wife. I saw my own
misconduct in all its true colours. I despised myself, and could not
hope for more partial treatment from my husband. A lover might in the
height of his passion excuse my frailty, but when matrimony, and
continued possession had restored him to his reason, I was sensible he
must think of me as I was conscious I deserved. What confidence, what
esteem could I hope from a husband who so well knew my weakness; or how
could I support being hourly exposed to the sight of a man whose eyes
would always seem to reproach me! I could scarcely bear to see myself;
and I was determined not to depend on any one who was equally conscious
of my guilt.
'I soon acquainted Lord Peyton with this resolution, which he combated
with every argument love could dictate. He assured me in the most solemn
manner of his entire esteem, insisted that he only was to blame, and
that he should never forgive himself for the uneasiness he had already
occasioned me; but intreated me not to punish him so severely as ever
again to give the least intimation of a design not to confirm our
marriage. As I resisted my own passion, it may be supposed that,
although too late, I was able to resist his. I saw that a generous man
must act as he did, but no generosity could restore me to the same place
in his esteem I before possessed. His behaviour on this occasion fixed
my good opinion of him, but could not restore my opinion of myself. All
he could urge therefore was unavailing; the stronger my affection, the
more determined I was in my purpose; since the more I valued his esteem,
the greater would my suffering be at knowing that I had forfeited it. I
acquainted my father with my resolution, alleging the best excuses I
could make. He was at first angry with my inconstancy, charged me with
capriciousness and want of honour; but at last was pacified by my
assuring him I would never marry any man. As he had been sorry to part
with me, the thought of my continuing with him as long as he lived, made
my peace.
'Lord Peyton's impatience at being detained in Ireland increased with
his desire of persuading me to relinquish a design so very grievous to
my own heart, as well as to his; but he could not obtain leave to return
into England before I found, to my inexpressible terror, that the
misfortune I so sincerely lamented would have consequences that I little
expected. In the agony of my mind I communicated my distress to Lord
Peyton, the only person whom I dared trust with so important a secret.
'Instead of condoling with me on the subject of my affliction, he
expressed no small joy in a circumstance which he said must reduce me to
accept the only means of preserving my reputation; and added, that as
every delay was now of so much importance, if the next packet did not
bring him leave of absence, he should set out without it; and rather run
the hazard of being called to account for disobedience, than of exposing
me to one painful blush.
'I confess his delicacy charmed me; every letter I received increased my
esteem and affection for him, but nothing could alter my purpose. I
looked upon the execution of it as the only means of reinstating myself
in his good opinion, or my own, in comparison of which even reputation
seemed to lose its value. But severe was the trial I had to undergo upon
his return into England, which was in a few days after his assurance of
coming at any hazard. He used every means that the tenderest affection
and the nicest honour could suggest to persuade me to marry him; and
the conflict in my own heart very near reduced me to my grave; till at
length pitying the condition into which I was reduced, without the least
approach to a change of purpose, he promised to spare me any further
solicitation and to bury his affliction in silence; after obtaining a
promise from me that I would suffer him to contrive the means for
concealing an event which must soon happen; as my unintriguing spirit
made me very incapable of managing it with tolerable art and secrecy.
'Lord Peyton had maintained his former friendship with my father, who
thought himself obliged to him for not resenting my behaviour in the
manner he imagined it deserved. When the melancholy and much dreaded
time approached, Lord Peyton gave me secret information that he would
invite my father into the country, on pretence of assisting him by his
advice in some alterations he was going to make there; and assured me of
careful attendance, and the most secret reception, from a very worthy
couple to whose house he gave me a direction if I could contrive, under
colour of some intended visit, to leave my own.
'All was executed as he had planned it; and when my servants thought I
was gone to visit a relation some miles distant from London, I went as
directed, and was received with the greatest humanity imaginable by Mr
and Mrs Selvyn; not at their own house, but at one taken for that
purpose, where the affair might be more secretly managed. Lord Peyton
had concealed my name even from them; and secured their care of me under
a borrowed appellation.
'The day after I got to them I was delivered of you, my dearest child,
whom I beheld with sorrow as well as affliction; considering you as the
melancholy memorial and partner in my shame.
'Mr and Mrs Selvyn attended me with the greatest care, and were never
both absent at a time; they acquainted Lord Peyton with the state of my
health by every post; and I was enabled, by the necessity of the case,
to write to my father as frequently as I usually did when absent from
him. Within the fortnight from the time of my departure from my own
house I returned to it again, after delivering my dear Harriot into the
care of these good people, who promised to treat her as their own child.
Under pretence of a cold I confined myself till I was perfectly
recovered.