Caelia and Chloe were both left orphans, at the tender age of six years.
Amanda their aunt, who was very rich, and a maiden, took them directly
under her care, and bred them up as her own children. Caelia’s mother
was Amanda’s sister; and Chloe’s father was her brother; so that she was
equally related to both.
They were left entirely unprovided for; were both born on the same day;
and both lost their mothers on the day of their birth: their fathers
were soldiers of fortune; and both killed in one day, in the fame
engagement. But their fortunes were not more similar than their persons
and dispositions. They were both extremely handsome; and in their
Childhood were so remarkable for liveliness of parts, and sweetness of
temper, that they were the admiration of the whole country where they
lived.
Their aunt loved them with a sincere and equal affection, and took the
greatest pleasure imaginable in their education, and particularly to
encourage that love and friendship which she with pleasure perceived
between them. Amanda being (as was said) very rich, and having no other
relations, it was supposed that these her nieces would be very great
fortunes; and as soon as they became women, they were addressed by all
the men of fortune and no fortune round the neighbourhood. But as the
love of admiration, and a desire of a large train of admirers, had
no place in their minds, they soon dismissed, in the most civil and
obliging manner, one after another, all these lovers.
The refusing such numbers of men, and some such as by the world were
called good offers, soon got them the name of jilts; and by that means
they were freed from any farther importunity, and for some years enjoyed
that peace and quiet they had long wished. Their aunt, from being their
mother and their guardian, was now become their friend. For, as she
endeavoured not in the least to force their inclinations, they never
kept anything concealed from her; and every action of their lives was
still guided by her advice and approbation.
They lived on in this way, perfectly happy in their own little
community, till they were about two-and-twenty years old when there
happened to be a regiment quartered in the neighbouring town, to which
their house was nearly situated; and the lieutenant-colonel, a man about
four-and-thirty years old, hearing their names, had a great desire to
see them. For when he was a boy of sixteen, he was put into the Army
under the care of Chloe’s father, who treated him with the greatest
tenderness; and (in that fatal engagement in which he lost his life)
received his death’s wound by endeavouring to save him from being taken
by the enemy. And gratitude to the memory of so good a friend was as
great an inducement to make him desire to see his daughter, as the
report he had heard both of hers and her cousin’s great beauty.
Sempronius (for so this Colonel was called) was a very sensible,
well-bred, agreeable man; and from the circumstances of his former
acquaintance, and his present proper and polite behaviour, he soon
became very intimate in the family. The old lady was particularly
pleased with him; and secretly wished, that before she died she might
be so happy as to see one of her nieces married to Sempronius. She could
not from his behaviour see the least particular liking to either, though
he showed an equal and very great esteem and regard for both.
He in reality liked them both extremely; and the reason of making no
declaration of love was, his being so undetermined in any preference
that was due to either. He saw plainly that he was very agreeable to
both; and with pleasure he observed, that they made use of none of those
arts which women generally do to get away a disputed lover: and this
sincere friendship which subsisted between them raised in him the
highest degree of love and admiration. However he at last determined to
make the following trial:
He went first to Chloe, and (finding her alone) told her, that he had
the greatest liking in the world to her cousin; and had really a mind
to propose himself to her: but as he saw a very great friendship between
them, he was willing to ask her advice in the matter; and conjured her
to tell him sincerely, whether there was anything in Caelia’s temper
(not discoverable by him) which as a wife would make him unhappy? He
told her, that, if she knew any such thing, it would be no treachery,
but rather kind in her to declare it, as it would prevent her friend’s
being unhappy; which must be the consequence, in marriage, of her making
him so.
Chloe could not help seeing very plainly, that if Caelia was removed she
stood the very next in Sempronius’s favour. Her lover was present--her
friend was absent--and the temptation was too strong and agreeable to be
resisted. She then answered, that since he insisted upon the truth, and
had convinced her that it was in reality acting justly and kindly by her
friend, she must confess, that Caelia was possessed (though in a very
small degree) of what she had often heard him declare most against of
anything in the world; and that was, an artfulness of temper, and some
few sparks of envy.
Chloe’s confused manner of speaking, and frequent hesitation, as
unwilling to pronounce her friend’s condemnation (which, as being
unused to falsehood, was really unaffected) he imputed to tenderness
and concern for Caelia; but he did not in the least doubt, but on his
application to her he should soon be convinced of the truth of what
Chloe had said.
He then went directly to the arbour at the end of the garden, and there
to his wish he found Caelia quite alone; and he addressed her exactly in
the same manner concerning her cousin, as he had before spoke to Chloe
concerning her. Caelia suddenly blushed (from motives I leave those to
find out who can put themselves in her circumstances) and then fetched a
soft sigh, from the thought that she was hearing a man she loved declare
a passion of which she was not the object. But after some little
pause, she told him, that if Chloe had any faults, they were to her yet
undiscovered, and she really and sincerely believed her cousin would
make him extremely happy. Sempronius then said, that of all other
things, TREACHERY and ENVY were what he had the greatest dislike to: and
he asked her, if she did not think her cousin was a little tainted with
these?--Here Caelia could not help interrupting, and assuring him, that
she believed her totally free from both. And, from his casting on
her friend an aspersion which her very soul abhorred, forgetting all
rivalship, she could not refrain from growing quite lavish in her
praise. ‘Suppose then (said Sempronius) I was to say the same to your
cousin concerning my intentions towards you as I have to you concerning
her, do you think she would say as many fine things in your praise as
you have done in hers?’
Caelia answered, that she verily believed her cousin would say as much
for her as she really deserved; but whether that would be equal to what
with justice she could say of Chloe, her modesty left her in some doubt
of.
Sempronius had too much penetration not to see the real and true
difference in the behaviour of these two women, and could not help
crying out, ‘O Caelia! your honest truth and goodness in every word and
look are too visible to leave me one doubt of their reality. But, could
you believe it? this friend of yours is false. I have already put her
to the trial, by declaring to her my sincere and unalterable passion
for you. When, on my insisting, as I did to you, upon her speaking the
truth, she accused you of what nothing should now convince me you are
guilty of. I own, that hitherto my regard, esteem, and love, have been
equal to both; but now I offer to the sincere, artless, and charming
Caelia, my whole heart, love, and affection, and the service of every
minute of my future life; and from this moment I banish from my mind the
false and ungrateful Chloe.’
Caelia’s friendship for Chloe was so deeply rooted in her breast, that
even a declaration of love from Sempronius could not blot it one moment
from her heart; and on his speaking the words ‘false Chloe,’ she burst
into tears, and said, ‘Is it possible that Chloe should act such a part
towards her Caelia! You must forgive her, Sempronius: it was her violent
passion for you, and fear of losing you, which made her do what hitherto
her nature has ever appeared averse to.’
Sempronius answered, ‘that he could not enough admire her goodness to
her friend Chloe; but such proofs of passion, he said, were to him at
the same time proofs of its being such a passion as he had no regard
for; since it was impossible for any one to gain or increase his love
by an action which at the same time lessened his esteem.’ This was so
exactly Caelia’s own way of thinking, that she could not but assent to
what he said.
But just as they were coming out of the arbour, Chloe, unseen by them,
passed by; and from seeing him kiss her hand, and the complacency of
Caelia’s look, it was easy for her to guess what had been the result
of their private conference. She could not however help indulging her
curiosity, so far as to walk on the other side of a thick yew hedge, to
listen to their discourse; and as they walked on, she heard Sempronius
entreat Caelia to be cheerful, and think no more of her treacherous
friend, whose wickedness he doubted not would sufficiently punish
itself. She then heard Caelia say, ‘I cannot bear, Sempronius, to hear
you speak so hardly of my Chloe. Say that you forgive her, and I will
indeed be cheerful.’
Nothing upon earth can be conceived so wretched as poor Chloe, for on
the first moment that she suffered herself to reflect on what she had
done, she thoroughly repented, and heartily detested herself for
such baseness. She went directly into the garden in hopes of meeting
Sempronius, to have thrown herself at his feet, confessed her treachery,
and to have begged him never to have mentioned it to Caelia; but now she
was conscious her repentance would come too late; and he would despise
her, if possible still more, for such a recantation, after her knowledge
of what had passed between him and Caelia.
She could indeed have gone to him, and not have owned what she had seen
or heard; but now her abhorrence of even the appearance of treachery or
cunning was so great, that she could not bear to add the smallest grain
of falsehood or deceit to the weight of her guilt, which was already
almost insupportable: and should she tell him of her repentance, with a
confession of her knowledge of his engagement with Caelia, it would (as
has been before observed) appear both servile and insincere.
Nothing could now appear so altered as the whole face of this once happy
family. Sempronius as much as possible shunned the sight of Chloe; for
as she was the cause of all the confusion amongst them, he had almost an
aversion to her. Though he was not of an implacable temper, yet, as the
injury was intended to one he sincerely loved, he found it much harder
to forgive it, than if it had even succeeded against himself; and as he
still looked upon Chloe as the cause of melancholy in his dear Caelia,
he could hardly have any patience with her.
No words can describe the various passions which were expressed in the
sad countenance of Chloe, when first she met her friend. They were both
afraid of speaking. Shame, and the fear of being (and with too good
reason) suspected of insincerity, withheld Chloe; and an unwillingness
to accuse or hurt her friend withheld the gentle Caelia. She sometimes
indeed thought she saw repentance in Chloe’s face, and wished for
nothing more than to seal her pardon. But till it was asked, she was
in doubt (from what had passed) whether such pardon and proffered
reconciliation might not be rejected. She knew that her friend’s
passions were naturally stronger than hers; and she therefore trembled
at the consequences of coming to an explanation.
But there was hardly a greater sufferer in this scene of confusion than
the poor old Lady Amanda. She saw a sort of horror and wildness in the
face of Chloe; and in Caelia’s a settled melancholy, and such an unusual
reserve in both towards each other, as well as to herself, as quite
astonished her.
Sempronius came indeed to the house as often as usual; but in his
countenance she could perceive a sort of anger and concern which
perfectly frightened her. But as they did not speak to her, she could
not bring herself to ask the cause of this woeful change, for fear of
hearing something too bad to bear.
Caelia had absolutely refused granting to Sempronius leave to ask her
aunt’s consent, till she should come to some explanation with Chloe,
which seemed every day farther off than ever.
The great perturbation of Chloe’s mind threw her into a disorder not
many degrees short of madness; and at last she was seized with a violent
fever so as to keep her bed. She said she could not bear to look on
Amanda; but begged Caelia to be with her as much as possible; which she
did, in hopes of bringing herself to ease her mind, by speaking to her
of what had given them all this torment.
Caelia watched with her night and day for three days, when the physician
who attended her pronounced that there was no hope of her life. Caelia
could not any longer bear to stay in the room, and went downstairs,
expecting every moment to hear she was expired.
Chloe soon perceived by Caelia’s abrupt leaving the room, and the looks
of those who were left in it, that her fate was pronounced; which,
instead of sinking her spirits, and making her dejected, gave a
tranquillity to her mind; for she thought within herself, ‘I shall now
make my dear cousin happy, by removing out of her way an object that
must embitter all her joy; and now likewise, as she is convinced I am on
my death-bed, she will once more believe me capable of speaking truth;
and will, in the manner I could wish, receive my sincere repentance.’
Then sending for Caelia up to her bedside, she in a weak voice, with
hardly strength for utterance, spoke in this manner: ‘My dear Caelia,
though you know me to be a worthless base wretch, yet do not think so
hardly of me, as to imagine I would deceive you with my last breath.
Believe me then when I tell you, that I sincerely repent of my treachery
towards you; and as sincerely rejoice that it has in reality been
the cause of your happiness with Sempronius. Tell him this; and then,
perhaps, he will not hate my memory.’ Here she fainted away, and they
forced Caelia out of the room, thinking her breath was for ever flown.
But in some time she came again to herself, and cried out, ‘What! would
not my dear Caelia say that she forgave me? Methinks I would not die,
till I had obtained her pardon. She is too good to refuse her friend
this last request.’ Her attendants then told her, that seeing her faint
away, they had forced Caelia out of the room; and they begged her to try
to compose herself, for they were sure that seeing her friend again, at
this time, would only disturb her mind, and do her an injury.
Chloe, from the vent she had given her grief in speaking to Caelia,
found herself something more easy and composed; and desiring the room to
be made perfectly quiet, she fell into a gentle sleep, which lasted two
hours; and when she awaked she found herself so much better, that those
about her were convinced, from her composed manner of speaking, that she
was now able to bear another interview.
They again called for Caelia, and told her of her cousin’s amendment.
She flew with all speed to her chamber; and the moment she entered,
Chloe cried out, ‘Can you forgive me, Caelia?’ ‘Yes, with the greatest
joy and sincerity imaginable, my dearest Chloe,’ answered Caelia, ‘and
never let it be again mentioned or remembered.’
The sudden recovery of Chloe was almost incredible; for in less than a
week she was able to quit both her bed and room, and go into her aunt’s
chamber. The good old lady shed tears of joy, to see such a return of
Chloe’s health, and of cheerfulness in the family; and was perfectly
contented, now she saw their melancholy removed, not to inquire into the
late cause of it, for fear of renewing their trouble even one moment by
the remembrance of it.
Sempronius, in the meantime, upon some affairs of his duty in the army,
had been called away, and was absent the whole time of Chloe’s illness,
and was not yet returned. Caelia spent almost her whole time with Chloe;
but three weeks passed on, and they were often alone; yet they had never
once mentioned the name of Sempronius, which laid Caelia still under
the greatest difficulty how to act, so as to avoid giving her friend any
uneasiness, and yet not disoblige Sempronius; for she had promised
him at his departure, that she would give him leave to ask her aunt’s
consent immediately upon his return. But the very day he was expected,
she was made quite easy by what passed between her and her friend.
Chloe, in this time, by proper reflections, and a due sense of Caelia’s
great goodness and affection to her, had so entirely got the better
of herself in this affair, that she found she could now, without any
uneasiness, see them married; and calling Caelia to her, she said with a
smile, ‘I have, my dear friend, been so long accustomed to read in that
intelligible index, your countenance, all your most inmost thoughts,
that I have not been unobserving of those kind fears you have had on
my account; and the reason I have so long delayed speaking was, my
resolution, if possible, never again to deceive you. I can with pleasure
now assure you, that nothing can give me so much joy as to see your
wedding with Sempronius. I make no doubt, but if you ask it, you will
have my aunt’s consent; and, if any intercession should be wanting
towards obtaining it, I will (if you can trust me) use all my influence
in your behalf. Be assured, my dear Caelia, I have now no farther regard
left for Sempronius, than as your husband; and that regard will increase
in proportion as he is the cause of your happiness.’
They were interrupted in their discourse by news being brought of
the arrival of Sempronius, and Chloe received him with that ease and
cheerfulness as convinced Caelia her professions were unfeigned.
Caelia related to Sempronius all that had passed between her and
Chloe; and by her continued cheerfulness of behaviour, the peace and
tranquillity of the family was perfectly restored, and their joy greatly
increased by Amanda’s ready consent to the marriage of Sempronius and
Caelia, having first settled all her fortune to be divided at her death
equally between her nieces; and in her lifetime there was no occasion of
settlements, or deeds of gift, for they lived all together, and separate
property was not so much as mentioned or thought on in this family of
harmony and peace.
Here Miss Dolly ceased reading; and all her hearers sat some little time
silent, and then expressed their great joy that Caelia and Chloe were at
last happy; for none of them had been able to refrain from tears whilst
they were otherwise. On which Miss Jenny Peace begged them to observe
from this story, the miserable effects that attend deceit and treachery:
‘For,’ continued she, ‘you see you could not refrain from tears, only by
imagining what Chloe must feel after her wickedness (by which indeed she
lost the very happiness she intended treacherously to gain); nor could
she enjoy one moment’s peace, till by confessing her fault, and
heartily repenting of it, her mind was restored to its former calm and
tranquility.’ Miss Dolly thanked Miss Jenny for her remarks; but Miss
Lucy Sly was most sensibly touched with this story, as cunning had
formerly entirely possessed HER mind; and said, that if her companions
were not weary at present of their arbour, she would now recount to them
the history of her life, as this story was a proper introduction to it.