_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_
_Chateau de Villebrun_
At last, my dear Louisa, the charm is broken: the spell of silence is
dissolved. Incapable any longer of restraint, passion has burst its
bounds, and strong though the contest was, victory has declared for
reason.
My change of behaviour has produced this effect. Not that I applaud
myself: on the contrary, I am far from pleased with my own want of
fortitude. I have even assumed an austerity which I did not feel.
I do not mean to say that all appearances, relative to myself, were
false. No. I was uneasy; desirous to speak, desirous that he should
speak, and could accomplish neither. I accused myself of having given
hopes that were seductive, and wished to retract. In short, I have not
been altogether so consistent as I ought to be; as my letters to you,
my friend, will witness.
Various little incidents preceded and indeed helped to produce this
swell and overflow of the heart, and the eclaircissement that followed.
In the morning at breakfast, Frank took the cakes I usually eat to hand
to me; and Clifton, whose watchful spirit is ever alert, caught up a
plate of bread and butter, to offer me at the same instant. His looks
shewed he expected the preference. I was sorry for it, and paused for a
moment. At last the principle of not encouraging Frank prevailed, and I
took some bread and butter from Clifton. It was a repetition of
slights, which Frank had lately met with, and he felt it; yet he bowed
with a tolerable grace, and put down his plate.
He soon after quitted the room, but returned unperceived by me. The
young marchioness had breakfasted, and retired to her toilet; where
some of the gentlemen were attending her. She had left a snuff-box of
considerable value with me, which I had forgotten to return; and, with
that kind of sportive cheerfulness which I rather encourage than
repress, I called--'Here! Where are all my esquires? I want a
messenger.'
Clifton heard me, and Frank was unexpectedly at my elbow. Had I known
it, I should not have spoken so thoughtlessly. Frank came forward and
bowed. Clifton called--'Here am I, ready, fair lady, to execute your
behests.'
I was a second time embarrassed. After a short hesitation, I
said--'No--I have changed my mind.'
Frank retired; but Clifton advanced, with his usual gaiety,
answering,--'Nay, nay! I have not earned half a crown yet this morning,
and I must not be cheated of my fare.' I would still have refused, but
I perceived Clifton began to look serious, and I said to him--'Well,
well, good man, here then, take this snuff-box to the marchioness, she
may want it: but do not blunder, and break it; for if you do I shall
dismiss you my service. Recollect the picture in the lid, set with
diamonds!'
It was fated to be a day of mortification to Frank. His complaisance
had induced him to comply with the request of the marchioness, that he
would read one of the mad scenes in Lear, though he knew she had not
the least acquaintance with the English language. But she wanted
amusement, and was pleased to mark the progress of the passions; which
I never saw so distinctly and highly expressed as in his countenance,
when he reads Shakespeare.
I happened to come into her apartment, for the French are delightfully
easy of access, and the reading was instantly interrupted. I was the
very person she wanted to see. How should we spend the evening? The
country was horribly dull! There had been no new visitors these two
days! Should we have a dance? I gave my assent, and away she ran to
tell every body.
I followed; Frank came after me, and with some reluctance, foreboding a
repulse, asked whether he should have the pleasure to dance with me.
His manner and the foregone circumstances made me guess his question
before he spoke. My answer was--'I have just made a promise to myself
that I will dance with Mr. Clifton.' It was true: the thought had
passed through my mind.
Mr. Clifton, madam!