_Presents the reader with some passages which could not conveniently be
told before, and, without all doubt, have been for a long time
impatiently expected_
The spirits of Lady Mellasin had for several months been kept up by the
wicked agents she had employed in the management of the worst cause that
ever was taken in hand: those subtle and most infamous wretches, in
order to draw fresh supplies of money from that unhappy woman, had still
found means to elude and baffle all the endeavours of Mr. Goodman's
honest lawyer to bring the manner to a fair trial.
But, at last, all their diabolical inventions, their evasions, their
subterfuges, failing, and the day appointed which they knew must
infallibly bring the whole dark mystery of iniquity to light, when all
their perjuries must be explored, and themselves exposed to the just
punishment of such flagitious crimes, not one of them had courage to
stand the dreadful test, nor face that awful tribunal they had so
greatly abused.
Yet so cruel were they, even to the very woman, all the remains of whose
shattered fortune they had shared among them, as not to give her the
least warning of her fate; nor, till the morning which she was made to
hope would decide every thing in her favour, did she know she was
undone, deserted, and left alone to bear the brunt of all the offended
laws inflict on forgery.
What words can represent the horror, the confusion, of her guilty mind,
when neither the person who drew up the pretended will, nor neither of
those two who had set their names as witnesses, appearing, she sent in
search of them, and found they were all removed from their habitations,
and fled no one could inform her where.
Scarce had she the time to make her escape out of the court, before word
was given to an officer to take her into custody: not daring to go home,
nor knowing to whom she could have recourse for shelter in this
exigence, she ran, like one distracted, through the streets, till she
came to one of the gates of St. James's Park; where, meeting with a
porter, she sent him to her lodgings, to order her daughter Flora and
Mrs. Prinks to come that instant to her.
Mrs. Prinks immediately obeyed the summons, but Miss Flora had the
audacity to desire to be excused, being then dressing to go on a
business which, indeed, she then imagined was of much more consequence
to herself than any thing relating to her mother could possibly be.
After this dissolute and unfortunate creature was left by Mr. Trueworth,
in the manner described in the third volume of this history, she gave a
loose to agonies which only those who have felt the same can be capable
of conceiving.
Her shrieks, and the request Mr. Trueworth had made on his going out,
brought up the woman of the house herself, to administer what relief was
in her power to a lady who seemed to stand in so much need of it.
Having prevailed on her to come down stairs, she seated her in a little
room behind the bar; and as she saw the violence of her passions threw
her into frequent faintings, neglected nothing which she thought might
be of service to recover her spirits and compose her mind.
As she was thus charitably employed, a young gentleman who used the
house, and was very free with all belonging to it, happened to come it.
Miss Flora, besides being handsome, had something extremely agreeable
and engaging in her air; and had her heart been possessed of half that
innocence her countenance gave the promise of, her character would have
been as amiable as it was now the contrary.
There are some eyes which shine through their tears, and are lovely in
the midst of anguish; those of Miss Flora had this advantage, and she
appeared, in spite of her disorder, so perfectly charming to the
stranger, that he could not quit the place without joining his
endeavours to those of the good-natured hostess, for her consolation,
and had the satisfaction to find them much more effectual for that
purpose.
The afflicted fair-one, finding herself somewhat better, thanked the
good woman, in the politest terms, for the pains she had been at; but
the gentleman would not be denied seeing her safe home in a coach;
saying, the air, on a sudden, might have too violent an effect on her so
lately recovered spirits; and that it was not fit she should be alone,
in case of accidents.
Miss Flora was easily prevailed upon to accept his obliging offer; he
attended her home--stayed about half an hour with her--and entreated she
would give him permission to come the next day and enquire after her
health.
She knew the world too well, and the disposition of mankind in general,
not to see that there was something more than mere compassion in the
civilities he had shewn to her: she examined his person--his
behaviour--and found nothing in either that was not perfectly agreeable;
and though she had really loved Mr. Trueworth to the greatest excess
that woman could do, yet, as she knew he was irrecoverably lost, she
looked upon a new attachment as the only sure means of putting the past
out of her head.
A very few visits served to make an eclaircissement of the thoughts they
had mutually entertained of each other; and as he had found by the woman
of the tavern, that the distress of this young lady had been occasioned
by a love-quarrel with a gentleman who had brought her into that house,
he began with expressing the utmost abhorrence of that injustice and
ingratitude which some were capable of: 'But,' said he, 'if some of us
have neither love nor honour for those that love us, we all certainly
love our own happiness; and he must be stupid and insensible, indeed,'
added he, embracing her with the warmest transport, 'who could not find
it eternally within these arms!'
'You all talk so,' answered she, with the most engaging smile she could
put on: 'but as my youth--innocence--and, perhaps, a little mixture of
female vanity--have once misled me, it behoves me to be extremely
cautious how the tender impulse gets a second time possession of my
heart.'
In short, she put him not to a too great expence of vows and
protestations before she either was, or pretended to be, convinced of
the sincerity of his passion, and also rewarded it in as ample a manner
as his soul could wish.
It is certain, that for a time this new gallant behaved with the
extremest fondness towards her--did every thing the most ardent lover
could do to please her--he treated her--carried her to all publick
places of entertainment--and, what in her present circumstances was most
necessary to her, was continually making her very rich and valuable
presents.
But it could not be expected that an amour, entered into in this manner,
and which had no solid esteem on either side for it's foundation, would
be of any long continuance; the gentleman had a great deal of
good-nature, but was gay and inconstant as the most variable of his
sex--he found a new charm in every face that presented itself to him;
and, as he wanted no requisites to please the fair, he too seldom failed
in his attempts upon them.
Miss Flora was not ignorant that he had many amusements of this kind,
even while he kept up the most tender correspondence with her; but
perceiving that reproaches and complaints were equally in vain with a
man of his humour, she had the cunning to forbear persecuting him with
either; and by appearing always easy, degagée, and unconcerned,
preserved her acquaintance with him, and received proofs of his
liberality long after she had lost those of his inclination.
On being told that he was going on a party of pleasure into the south of
France, she exercised all her wit and artifice to engage him to permit
her to be one of the company; but he treated this request as a mere
bagatelle--said the thing was utterly impracticable--that none of the
gentlemen took any ladies with them--so he would not have her think of
it.
It was in order to take her leave of him before his departure, that she
was going to his lodgings when Lady Mellasin had sent for her into the
Park.
The cool reception he had given her, sent her home in a very ill-humour,
which was greatly heighted by a letter which she found Mrs. Prinks had
left for her on the table.
That woman having joined her lady in the Park, and consulted together
what was to be done, they took a hackney-coach, and drove to an obscure
part of the town, where they hired lodgings in a feigned name; after
which Mrs. Prinks hurried home, packed up what cloaths and other
necessaries she thought would be immediately wanted; and, after having
wrote a short account to Miss Flora of the misfortune that had happened,
and given her directions where to come, returned, with all haste, to her
disconsolate lady.