You have attained that noble courage which dares to question the most
received doctrines, and bring them to the test of truth. Who better
than you can appreciate the falsehood and the force of the prejudices
of opinion? Yet are you sure, madam, that even you are superior to them
all?
Far otherwise. Would I were! I am much too ignorant for such high such
enviable perfection.
But is it not possible that some of the most common, and if I dared I
should say the most narrow, the most self-evident of these prejudices
may sway and terrify you from the plain path of equity? Dare you look
the world's unjust contumelies stedfastly in the face? Dare you answer
for yourself that you will not shudder at the performance of what you
cannot but acknowledge, nay have acknowledged to be an act of duty?
I confess your preparation is alarming, and makes me half suspect
myself, half desirous to retract all I have thought, all I have
asserted! Yet I think I dare do whatever justice can require.
You think--?
Once more bring me to the proof. I feel a conscious [Again you make me
a braggart.] a virtuous certainty.
In opposition to the whole world, its prepossessions, reproofs,
revilings, persecutions, and contempt?
The picture is terrifying, but ought not to be, and I answer yes; in
opposition to and in defiance of them all.
Then--You are my wife!
How?
Be firm! Start not from the truth! You are my wife! Ask yourself the
meaning of the word. Can set forms and ceremonies unite mind to mind?
And if not they, what else? What but community of sentiments,
similarity of principles, reciprocal sympathies, and an equal ardour
for and love of truth? Can it be denied?
It cannot.
You are my wife, and I have a right to the privileges of a husband!
A right?
An absolute, an indefeasible right!
You go too fast!
They are your own principles: they are principles founded on avowed and
indisputable truths. I claim justice from you!
Clifton!
Justice!
This is wrong!--Surely it is wrong!--This cannot be!
Instead of the chaste husband, such as better times and spirits of
higher dignity have known, who comes with lips void of guile the
rightful claimant of an innocent heart, in which suspicion never
harboured, imagine me to be a traitorous wretch, who poorly seeks to
gratify a momentary, a vile, a brutal passion! Imagine me, I say, such
a creature if you can! Once I should have feared it; but you have
taught my thoughts to soar above such vulgar terrors. My appeal is not
to your passions, but your principles. Inspired by that refulgent
ardour which animates you, with a noble enthusiasm you have yourself
bid me put you to the proof. You cannot, will not, dare not be unjust!
And now, Fairfax, behold her in the very state I wished! Cowed,
silenced, overawed! Her ideas deranged, her tongue motionless, wanting
a reply, her eyes wandering in perplexity, her cheeks growing pale, her
lips quivering, her body trembling, her bosom panting! Behold I say the
wild disorder of her look! Then turn to me, and read secure triumph,
concealed exultation, and bursting transport on my brow! While
impetuous, fierce, and fearless desire is blazing in my heart, and
mounting to my face! See me in the very act of fastening on her! And
see--!
Curses!--Everlasting curses pursue and catch my perfidious evil
genius!--See that old Incubus' Mrs. Clarke enter, with a letter in her
hand that had arrived express, and was to be delivered instantly!--Our
mutual perturbation did not escape the prying witch; my countenance
red, hers pale--The word begone! maddened to break loose from my
impatient tongue. My eyes however spoke plainly enough, and the hag was
unwillingly retiring, when a faint--'Stay, Mrs. Clarke'--called her
back!
As I foreboded, it was all over for this time! She opened the letter.
What its contents were I know not; and impossible as it is that they
should relate to me, I yet wish I did. I am sure by her manner they
were extraordinary. I could not ask while that old beldam was present
[Had she been my grandmother, on this occasion I should have abused
her.] and the eye of the young lady very plainly told me she wished me
away. It was prudent to make the best retreat possible, and with the
best grace: I therefore bowed and took my leave; very gravely telling
her I hoped she would seriously consider what I had said, and again
emphatically pronounced the word _justice!_
You have now, Fairfax, been a spectator of the scene; and if its many
niceties have escaped you, if you have not been hurried away, as I was,
by the tide of passion, and amazed at the successful sophistries which
flowed from my tongue, sophistries that are indeed so like truth that I
myself at a cooler moment should have hesitated to utter them; if I say
the deep art with which the whole was conducted, and the high acting
with which I personified the only possible Being that could subjugate
Anna St. Ives do not excite your astonishment, why then you really are
a dull fellow! But I know you too well, Fairfax, to do you such
injustice as this supposes. Victory had declared for me. I read her
thoughts. They were labouring for an answer, I own; but she was too
much confounded. And would I have given her time to rally? No! I should
then have merited defeat.
The grand difficulty however is vanquished: she will hear me the next
time with less surprise, and the emotions of passion, genuine honest
mundane passion, must take their turn; for not even she, Fairfax, can
be wholly exempt from these emotions. I have not the least fear that my
eloquence should fail me, and absolute victory excepted, I could not
have wished for greater success.
I cannot forget this letter. It disturbs and pesters my imagination. I
supposed it to be from Edward, who has been at Bath; but my valet has
just informed me he is returned. Perhaps it is from my sister; and if
so, by its coming express, my mother is dead! I really fear it bodes me
harm--I am determined to rid myself of this painful suspense. I will
therefore step to Grosvenor-street. I may as well face the worst at
once. You shall hear more when I return.
Oh, Fairfax! I could curse most copiously, in all heathenish and
christian tongues! She has shut herself up, and refuses to see me! This
infernal fellow Frank Henley is returned too. He arrived two hours
after the express. I suspect it came from him; nay I suspect--Flames
and furies!--I must tell you!
I have seen Laura, though scarcely for two minutes. She is afraid she
is watched. It is all uproar, confusion, and suspicion at Sir Arthur's.
But the great curse is my groom, the lad that I told you copied my
letter to Abimelech, has been sent for and privately catechised by her
and her paramour! And what confirms this most tormenting of all
conjectures is the absence of the fellow: he has not been home since,
nor at the stables, though he was always remarkably punctual, but has
sent the key; so that he has certainly absconded.
Had I not been a stupid booby, had I given Laura directions to keep out
of the way of Anna, but in the way of taking messages for her, she
might have received the express, and all might have been well. Such a
blockheadly blunder well deserves castigation!
I'll deny the letter, Fairfax. They have no proof, and I'll swear
through thick and thin rather than bring myself into this universal,
this damnatory disgrace! I know indeed she will not believe me; and I
likewise know that now it must be open war between us. For do not think
that I will suffer myself to be thus shamefully beaten out of the
field. No, by Lucifer and his Tophet! I will die a foaming maniac,
fettered in straw, ere that shall happen! If not by persuasion, she
shall be mine by chicanery, or even by force. I will perish, Fairfax,
sooner than desist!
Oh for an agent, a coadjutor worthy of the cause! He must and shall be
found.
The uncle and aunt must be courted: the father I expect will side with
her. The brother too must be my partisan; for it will be necessary I
should maintain an intercourse, and the shew of still wishing for
wedlock.
I am half frantic, Fairfax! To be baffled by such an impossible
accident, after having acted my part with such supreme excellence, is
insupportable! But the hag Vengeance shall not slip me! No! I have
fangs to equal hers, ay and will fasten her yet! I have been injured,
insulted, frustrated, and fiends seize me if I relent!