* Explained in Letter XXVIII. of this volume.
O Sir, said she, I have been grievously harassed. Your friend, who would
not let me live with reputation, will not permit me to die in peace. You
see how I am. Is there not a great alteration in me within this week!
but 'tis all for the better. Yet were I to wish for life, I must say
that your friend, your barbarous friend, has hurt me greatly.
She was so weak, so short breathed, and her words and actions so very
moving, that I was forced to walk from her; the two women and her nurse
turning away their faces also, weeping.
I have had, Madam, said I, since I saw you, a most shocking scene before
my eyes for days together. My poor friend Belton is no more. He quitted
the world yesterday morning in such dreadful agonies, that the impression
they have left upon me have so weakened my mind--
I was loth to have her think that my grief was owing to the weak state I
saw her in, for fear of dispiriting her.
That is only, Mr. Belford, interrupted she, in order to strengthen it, if
a proper use be made of the impression. But I should be glad, since you
are so humanely affected with the solemn circumstance, that you could
have written an account of it to your gay friend, in the style and manner
you are master of. Who knows, as it would have come from an associate,
and of an associate, it might have affected him?
That I had done, I told her, in such a manner as had, I believed, some
effect upon you.
His behaviour in this honest family so lately, said she, and his cruel
pursuit of me, give me but little hope that any thing serious or solemn
will affect him.
We had some talk about Belton's dying behaviour, and I gave her several
particulars of the poor man's impatience and despair; to which she was
very attentive; and made fine observations upon the subject of
procrastination.
A letter and packet were brought her by a man on horseback from Miss
Howe, while we were talking. She retired up stairs to read it; and while
I was in discourse with Mrs. Smith and Mrs. Lovick, the doctor and
apothecary both came in together. They confirmed to me my fears, as to
the dangerous way she is in. They had both been apprized of the new
instances of implacableness in her friends, and of your persecutions: and
the doctor said he would not for the world be either the unforgiving
father of that lady, or the man who had brought her to this distress.
Her heart's broken: she'll die, said he: there is no saving her. But
how, were I either the one or the other of the people I have named, I
should support myself afterwards, I cannot tell.
When she was told we were all three together, she desired us to walk up.
She arose to receive us, and after answering two or three general
questions relating to her health, she addressed herself to us, to the
following effect:
As I may not, said she, see you three gentlemen together again, let me
take this opportunity to acknowledge my obligations to you all. I am
inexpressibly obliged to you, Sir, and to you, Sir, [courtesying to the
doctor and to Mr. Goddard] for your more than friendly, your paternal
care and concern for me. Humanity in your profession, I dare say, is far
from being a rare qualification, because you are gentlemen by your
profession: but so much kindness, so much humanity, did never desolate
creature meet with, as I have met with from you both. But indeed I have
always observed, that where a person relies upon Providence, it never
fails to raise up a new friend for every old one that falls off.
This gentleman, [bowing to me,] who, some people think, should have been
one of the last I should have thought of for my executor--is,
nevertheless, (such is the strange turn that things have taken!) the only
one I can choose; and therefore I have chosen him for that charitable
office, and he has been so good as to accept of it: for, rich as I may
boast myself to be, I am rather so in right than in fact, at this
present. I repeat, therefore, my humble thanks to you all three, and beg
of God to return to you and yours [looking to each] an hundred-fold, the
kindness and favour you have shown me; and that it may be in the power of
you and of yours, to the end of time, to confer benefits, rather than to
be obliged to receive them. This is a godlike power, gentlemen: I once
rejoiced in it some little degree; and much more in the prospect I had of
its being enlarged to me; though I have had the mortification to
experience the reverse, and to be obliged almost to every body I have
seen or met with: but all, originally, through my own fault; so I ought
to bear the punishment without repining: and I hope I do. Forgive these
impertinencies: a grateful heart, that wants the power it wishes for, to
express itself suitably to its own impulses, will be at a loss what
properly to dictate to the tongue; and yet, unable to restrain its
overflowings, will force the tongue to say weak and silly things, rather
than appear ungratefully silent. Once more, then, I thank ye all three
for your kindness to me: and God Almighty make you that amends which at
present I cannot!
She retired from us to her closet with her eyes full; and left us looking
upon one another.
We had hardly recovered ourselves, when she, quite easy, cheerful, and
smiling, returned to us: Doctor, said she (seeing we had been moved) you
will excuse me for the concern I give you; and so will you, Mr. Goddard,
and you, Mr. Belford; for 'tis a concern that only generous natures can
show: and to such natures sweet is the pain, if I may say so, that
attends such a concern. But as I have some few preparations still to
make, and would not (though in ease of Mr. Belford's future cares, which
is, and ought to be, part of my study) undertake more than it is likely I
shall have time lent me to perform, I would beg of you to give me your
opinions [you see my way of living, and you may be assured that I will do
nothing wilfully to shorten my life] how long it may possibly be, before
I may hope to be released from all my troubles.
They both hesitated, and looked upon each other. Don't be afraid to
answer me, said she, each sweet hand pressing upon the arm of each
gentleman, with that mingled freedom and reserve, which virgin modesty,
mixed with conscious dignity, can only express, and with a look serenely
earnest, tell me how long you think I may hold it! and believe me,
gentlemen, the shorter you tell me my time is likely to be, the more
comfort you will give me.
With what pleasing woe, said the Doctor, do you fill the minds of those
who have the happiness to converse with you, and see the happy frame you
are in! what you have undergone within a few days past has much hurt you:
and should you have fresh troubles of those kinds, I could not be
answerable for your holding it--And there he paused.
How long, Doctor?--I believe I shall have a little more ruffling--I am
afraid I shall--but there can happen only one thing that I shall not be
tolerably easy under--How long then, Sir?--
He was silent.
A fortnight, Sir?
He was still silent.
Ten days?--A week?--How long, Sir? with smiling earnestness.
If I must speak, Madam, if you have not better treatment than you have
lately met with, I am afraid--There again he stopt.
Afraid of what, Doctor? don't be afraid--How long, Sir?
That a fortnight or three weeks may deprive the world of the finest
flower in it.
A fortnight or three weeks yet, Doctor?--But God's will be done! I
shall, however, by this means, have full time, if I have but strength
and intellect, to do all that is now upon my mind to do. And so, Sirs,
I can but once more thank you [turning to each of us] for all your
goodness to me; and, having letters to write, will take up no more of
your time--Only, Doctor, be pleased to order me some more of those drops:
they cheer me a little, when I am low; and putting a fee into his
unwilling hand--You know the terms, Sir!--Then, turning to Mr. Goddard,
you'll be so good, Sir, as to look in upon me to-night or to-morrow, as
you have opportunity: and you, Mr. Belford, I know, will be desirous to
set out to prepare for the last office for your late friend: so I wish
you a good journey, and hope to see you when that is performed.
She then retired with a cheerful and serene air. The two gentlemen
went away together. I went down to the women, and, inquiring, found,
that Mrs. Lovick was this day to bring her twenty guineas more, for some
other of her apparel.
The widow told me that she had taken the liberty to expostulate with her
upon the occasion she had for raising this money, to such great
disadvantage; and it produced the following short and affecting
conversation between them.
None of my friends will wear any thing of mine, said she. I shall leave
a great many good things behind me.--And as to what I want the money for
--don't be surprised:--But suppose I want it to purchase a house?
You are all mystery, Madam. I don't comprehend you.
Why, then, Mrs. Lovick, I will explain myself.--I have a man, not a
woman, for my executor: and think you that I will leave to his care any
thing that concerns my own person?--Now, Mrs. Lovick, smiling, do you
comprehend me?
Mrs. Lovick wept.
O fie! proceeded the Lady, drying up her tears with her own handkerchief,
and giving her a kiss--Why this kind weakness for one with whom you have
been so little while acquainted? Dear, good Mrs. Lovick, don't be
concerned for me on a prospect with which I have occasion to be pleased;
but go to-morrow to your friends, and bring me the money they have agreed
to give you.
Thus, Lovelace, it is plain she means to bespeak her last house! Here's
presence of mind; here's tranquillity of heart, on the most affecting
occasion--This is magnanimity indeed!--Couldst thou, or could I, with all
our boisterous bravery, and offensive false courage, act thus?--Poor
Belton! how unlike was thy behaviour!
Mrs. Lovick tells me that the lady spoke of a letter she had received
from her favourite divine Dr. Lewen, in the time of my absence; and of an
letter she had returned to it. But Mrs. Lovick knows not the contents of
either.
When thou receivest the letter I am now writing, thou wilt see what will
soon be the end of all thy injuries to this divine lady. I say when thou
receivest it; for I will delay it for some little time, lest thou
shouldest take it into thy head (under pretence of resenting the
disappointment her letter must give thee) to molest her again.
This letter having detained me by its length, I shall not now set out for
Epsom till to-morrow.
I should have mentioned that the lady explained to me what the one thing
was that she was afraid might happen to ruffle her. It was the
apprehension of what may result from a visit which Col. Morden, as she is
informed, designs to make you.