Whether I chose to go to either of Lord M.'s seats; that of Berks, or
that in the county we were in?
In lodgings, I said, any where, where he was not to be.
He had promised this, he owned; and he would religiously keep to his
word, as soon as he found all danger of pursuit over; and that I was
settled to my mind. But, if the place were indifferent to me, London was
the safest, and the most private: and his relations should all visit
me there, the moment I thought fit to admit them. His cousin Charlotte,
particularly, should attend me, as my companion, if I would accept of
her, as soon as she was able to go abroad. Mean time, would I go to Lady
Betty Lawrance's (Lady Sarah was a melancholy woman)? I should be the
most welcome guest she ever received.
I told him, I wished not to go (immediately, however, and in the frame
I was in, and not likely to be out of) to any of his relations: that my
reputation was concerned, to have him absent from me: that, if I were in
some private lodging, the meaner the less to be suspected, (as it would
be known, that I went away by his means; and he would be supposed to
have provided me handsome accommodations,) it would be most suitable
both to my mind and to my situation: that this might be best, I should
think, in the country for me; in town for him. And no matter how soon he
was known to be there.
If he might deliver his opinion, he said, it was, that since I declined
going to any of his relations, London was the only place in the world
to be private in. Every new comer in a country town or village excited a
curiosity: A person of my figure [and many compliments he made me] would
excite more. Even messages and letters, where none used to be brought,
would occasion inquiry. He had not provided a lodging any where,
supposing I would choose to go either to London, where accommodations of
that sort might be fixed upon in an hour's time, or to Lady Betty's; or
to Lord M.'s Herfordshire seat, where was the housekeeper, an excellent
woman, Mrs. Greme, such another as my Norton.
To be sure, I said, if I were pursued, it would be in their first
passion; and some one of his relations' houses would be the place they
would expect to find me at--I knew not what to do.
My pleasure should determine him, he said, be it what it would. Only
that I were safe, was all he was solicitous about. He had lodgings in
town; but he did not offer to propose them. He knew, I would have more
objections to go to them, than I could to go to Lord M.'s, or to Lady
Betty's.
No doubt of it, I replied, with such an indignation in my manner, as
made him run over with professions, that he was far from proposing them,
or wishing for my acceptance of them. And again he repeated, that my
honour and safety were all he was solicitous about; assuring me, that my
will should be a law to him in every particular.
I was too peevish, and too much afflicted, and indeed too much incensed
against him, to take well any thing he said.
I thought myself, I said, extremely unhappy. I knew not what to
determine upon: my reputation now, no doubt, utterly ruined: destitute
of clothes: unfit to be seen by any body: my very indigence, as I might
call it, proclaiming my folly to every one who saw me; who would suppose
that I had been taken at advantage, or had given an undue one; and had
no power over either my will or my actions: that I could not but think I
had been dealt artfully with: that he had seemed to have taken, what he
might suppose, the just measure of my weakness, founded on my youth and
inexperience: that I could not forgive myself for meeting him: that my
heart bled for the distresses of my father and mother, on this occasion:
that I would give the world, and all my hopes in it, to have been still
in my father's house, whatever had been my usage: that, let him protest
and vow what he would, I saw something low and selfish in his love, that
he could study to put a young creature upon making such a sacrifice of
her duty and conscience: when a person, actuated by a generous love,
must seek to oblige the object of it, in every thing essential to her
honour, and to her peace of mind.
He was very attentive to all I said, never offering to interrupt me
once. His answer to every article, almost methodically, shewed his
memory.
'What I had said, he told me, made him very grave; and he would answer
accordingly.
'He was grieved at his heart, to find that he had so little share in my
favour or confidence.
'As to my reputation, (he must be very sincere with me,) that could not
suffer half so much by the step I so regretted to have taken, as by the
confinement, and equally foolish and unjust treatment, I had met with
from my relations: that every mouth was full of blame of them, of my
brother and sister particularly; and of wonder at my patience: that he
must repeat what he had written to me he believed more than once, That
my friends themselves expected that I should take a proper opportunity
to free myself from their persecutions; why else did they confine me?
That my exalted character, as he called it, would still bear me out,
with those who knew me; who knew my brother's and sister's motives; and
who knew the wretch they were for compelling me to have.
'With regard to clothes; who, as matters were circumstanced, could
expect that I should be able to bring away any others than those I had
on at the time? For present use or wear, all the ladies of his family
would take a pride to supply me: for future, the product of the best
looms, not only in England, but throughout the world, were at my
command.
'If I wanted money, as no doubt I must, he should be proud to supply me:
Would to heaven, he might presume to hope, there were but one interest
between us!'
And then he would fain have had me to accept of a bank note of a hundred
pounds; which, unawares to me, he put into my hand: but which, you may
be sure, I refused with warmth.
'He was inexpressibly grieved and surprised, he said, to hear me say
he had acted artfully by me. He came provided, according to my confirmed
appointment,' [a wretch to upbraid me thus!] 'to redeem me from my
persecutors; and little expected a change of sentiment, and that he
should have so much difficulty to prevail upon me, as he had met with:
that perhaps I might think his offer to go into the garden with me, and
to face my assembled relations, was a piece of art only: but that if I
did, I wronged him: since to this hour, seeing my excessive uneasiness,
he wished, with all his soul he had been permitted to accompany me in.
It was always his maxim to brave a threatened danger. Threateners, where
they have an opportunity to put in force their threats, were seldom
to be feared. But had he been assured of a private stab, or of as many
death's wounds as there were persons in my family, (made desperate as
he should have been by my return,) he would have attended me into the
house.'
So, my dear, what I have to do, is to hold myself inexcusable for
meeting such a determined and audacious spirit; that's all! I have
hardly any question now, but that he would have contrived some wicked
stratagem or other to have got me away, had I met him at a midnight
hour, as once or twice I had thoughts to do; and that would have been
more terrible still.
He concluded this part of his talk, with saying, 'That he doubted not
but that, had he attended me in, he should have come off in every
one's opinion well, that he should have had general leave to renew his
visits.'
He went on--'He must be so bold as to tell me, that he should have paid
a visit of this kind, (but indeed accompanied by several of his trusty
friends,) had I not met him; and that very afternoon too; for he could
not tamely let the dreadful Wednesday come, without making some effort
to change their determinations.'
What, my dear, was to be done with such a man!
'That therefore for my sake, as well as for his own, he had reason to
wish that a disease so desperate had been attempted to be overcome by as
desperate a remedy. We all know, said he, that great ends are sometimes
brought about by the very means by which they are endeavoured to be
frustrated.'
My present situation, I am sure, thought I, affords a sad evidence of
this truth!
I was silent all this time. My blame was indeed turned inward.
Sometimes, too, I was half-frighted at his audaciousness: at others, had
the less inclination to interrupt him, being excessively fatigued, and
my spirits sunk to nothing, with a view even of the best prospects with
such a man.
This gave his opportunity to proceed: and that he did; assuming a still
more serious air.
'As to what further remained for him to say, in answer to what I had
said, he hoped I would pardon him; but, upon his soul, he was concerned,
infinitely concerned, he repeated, (his colour and his voice rising,)
that it was necessary for him to observe, how much I chose rather to
have run the risque of being Solmes's wife, than to have it in my power
to reward a man who, I must forgive him, had been as much insulted on my
account, as I had been on his--who had watched my commands, and (pardon
me, Madam) ever changeable motion of your pen, all hours, in all
weathers, and with a cheerfulness and ardour, that nothing but the most
faithful and obsequious passion could inspire.'
I now, my dear, began to revive into a little more warmth of
attention.--
'And all, Madam, for what?'--How I stared! for he stopt then a moment
or two--'Only,' went he on, 'to prevail upon you to free yourself from
ungenerous and base oppressions'--