LETTER LIII. G. LASCELLES, Eſq. to Capt. CARLISLE.

YOU are abſolutely too ef⯑feminately ſcrupulous, CARLISLE—what I propoſed was well meant. However, as your virtue is of a moſt obſtinate, anchoretical nature, which neither love nor friendſhip can make a voluptuous [2]impreſſion upon, I ſhall quit the ſubject; but not without ſaying, that you are a very ſingular man; and I queſtion, upon the whole, whether the ſex like you a bit the better for thoſe ſcruples which ſtand ſo conſtantly betwixt you and a delicious offer.

As to Miſs DE GREY, it is as im⯑poſſible ſhe can love ſuch a flaſh in the pan, ſuch a match always lighted, as MEDWAY, as it is impoſſible for her to live in the ſame houſe with CLEMENT CARLISLE, and not be (however ſe⯑cretly) in raptures with him—that is to ſay—if his ice does not lie in the way. Seriouſly, CLEMENT, you make diffi⯑culties where I ſhould go as ſmoothly as upon a carpet. The Marchioneſs re⯑mains quiet, and I am your entire friend,

LETTER LIV. From the Same to Sir ANDREW FLIGHT.

THE ſtratagem takes: I have written the letter we projected, and it anſwers our expectation. He could not bear the idea—he was hurt—he could not believe his eyes—he would not do her ſuch a violence for the world— But you knew his virtue. I judge it is owing in a great degree to my caution in directing to you in a counterfeit hand, that has kept our correſpondence ſo long as private as we wiſhed it; for, had I written in my uſual character, a ſingle letter would have betrayed me [4]to CARLISLE, with whom I have lived on terms of abſolute intimacy for ten years, without his ever ſuſpecting me to be a jolly fellow. So eaſy is it for men of ſpirit, to impoſe upon theſe mighty good kind of men. Never, ſurely, was any thing half ſo a-propos, as his putting the Marchioneſs under my care—or rather my ſiſter's, who really thinks me as great a ſaint as CARLISLE himſelf. But to come to the point, it may certainly be contrived for you to take unto your boſom this Italian trea⯑ſure—CARLISLE refuſes her, that's one plea—you are a fine fellow, that's ano⯑ther—you have money, that's greater than even the former: her paſſions are awake, that's number 4 in your fa⯑vour: ſhe is married, and therefore above the folly of ſollicitation—num⯑ber 5—her conſtitution glows like the torrid zone—number 6—She abhors [5]the Marquis—count nine for that. In ſhort, ſhe will, ſhe muſt, ſhe ſhall be your's—As to the arrival of the Mar⯑quis, do not apprehend any danger from that quarter: I have counteracted the contents of the letter from CAR⯑LISLE, you may depend on it. It is, by your LASCELLES, ſo ordered, that, if he goes at all in ſearch of his Perdita, he will not direct his courſe to England, but to a very different quarter of the globe. I will prepare every other grand eſſential, even till your bed is dreſſed with roſes. In the mean time keep HEATHCOATE ignorant of the bu⯑ſineſs, and continue to uſe, or rather to amuſe him, with the ridiculous that re⯑ſults from your play upon the HODSONS, DREWSONS, HEWSONS—what the plague is their vulgar name? He is a worthy fellow, but not fit for ſuch a plot as the [6]preſent—therefore till the deed be done, keep him out of it.

As to the Lady's beauty, depend on your old caterer for that. I have a hawk's eye at a pretty wench. To ſay the truth, the Marchioneſs is more to your taſte than any I have had the ho⯑nour and friendſhip to recommend. Her eyes have juſt that fluid floating in them, and are exactly of that brilliant black you like: her noſe is turned to the perfection of your beauty—a little on the aquiline, and ſet off by a pair of brows ſo markingly expreſſive of plea⯑ſure, that you may depend upon them. Then her lips is firſt of that ſuperior order, without corpulence, and ſo full of majeſty, without haughtineſs, that moſt attaches you. Her boſom is finely filled, and riſes, as the poet emphatically []terms it, "ſuing to be preſſed." Her arms, hands, fingers, are, likewiſe, all ſuited to you. But enough. She is to be the ſubject of a much cloſer criti⯑ciſm than it is even poſſible for me to give.

Once more, however, let me charge you, by an old and ſerviceable friend⯑ſhip, never to breathe the name of LASCELLES in any way not conſiſtent with every thing ſacred. You know my loſs of a damned fortune at one ſtroke of the die, firſt reduced me to this. As it was impoſſible to hold ſtill the elbow, ſomething was neceſſary to repair my miſchance, and, literally ſpeaking, keep me in play: beſides which, I was to live as I had ever been uſed to do; I was to be the ſame cha⯑racter. Two paths preſented them⯑ſelves, [8]the one led to the gallows by the way of purſe-gathering, the other to the accommodation of a friend, by the way of woman. I ſaw you, loved you, valued your health, and choſe the latter path. You know how I have ſuc⯑ceeded: let the ample catalogue of your paſſions, gratified in every form, con⯑vince you of it. You only I ſerved: you only know me to be not abſolutely— a CARLISLE. I once more repeat to you the neceſſity of burning every letter, and every ſlip of paper you get from me, the moment it comes to hand: if a ſyllable at any time tranſpires, I am deſtroyed for ever: the conſequence of which irreparable injury is, that I muſt cut your throat. But keep our counſel and you ſhall be the very Jupiter of a ſeraglio.

[9] I ſhook hard laſt night; my hand trembles this morning at the diſap⯑pointment. Pray ſend fifty pieces to take off, by way of bracer.

LETTER LV. Sir ANDREW FLIGHT to G. LASCELLES, Eſq.

THOUGH BLESSINGBOURNE has not yet honoured my laſt draughts, and I have but juſt an hundred pieces about me, I, nevertheleſs, divide chear⯑fully with you—My purſe is your's— How canſt talk ſo childiſhly about diſ⯑cloſure of ſecrets? Could you not have me cut into piecemeal by fathers, bro⯑thers, aunts, mothers, and couſins, if I were ridiculous enough to blab? I adore woman to pleaſe me, and men to laugh at. You very liberally ſupply [11]me with the one kind of gratification, HEATHCOATE with the other. Neither jars with the other's province, and I have money enough to ſupport you both. As to character, I like it as well as you, and except laughing at men, and lying with women, I ſolemnly declare I would not do a wrong thing for the world. But every man to his paſ⯑ſions—thoſe are mine. You rejoice my heart with repeating to me in every letter the perſonal charms of CARLISLE's fair follower. 'Tis a confounded thing though, to conſider ſhe is ſo taken with CARLISLE; and yet to do him juſtice, he is an elegant, glorious fellow. Every day marks the goodneſs of his heart, and you would be an ingrateful dog to ſay a ſyllable againſt him. If you can prevent all riſque (for though you fight for me, I hate quarrels) I will be ſatiſ⯑fied with your ſucceſs by the middle of [12]next month. In the mean time I have a game of my own to play. Juſt ſuch a one as I can manage without aſſiſtance. Not a ſnap of the finger of peril at⯑tending the whole enterpriſe. But, HEATHCOATE is my correſpondent in this adventure; it is not of importance enough for the ambitious GEORGE LASCELLES, whom even a Marchioneſs cannot deter from his attempts: the ob⯑ject of my preſent humble aſpiring is only the wife of the moſt grazier-looking HAL. HEWSON. But mum, not a word more on a ſubject that does not belong to you. HEATHCOATE is the man for trifles and laugh. MEDWAY is, as uſual, the moſt ſullen raſcal in Europe; he was going to run me through the body the other day for toſſing down a tumbler of fair water, which (though I ſwear it was an accident) he inſiſted was done with an ill-natured deſign to ſpot [13]his waiſtcoat—CARLISLE, who is ever a peace-maker, interfered, or elſe I ſhould moſt likely have written to you from Elyſium.

LETTER LVI. The Earl of BLESSINGROURNE to Mr. DE GREY.

YOU did not remember either me or my overtures reſpecting my ne⯑phew, Sir ANDREW, by the poſt. Cer⯑tainly you are ill, and therefore I ſend to make friendly inquiries after your health. As to any other cauſe of your delay, it is impoſſible to be conceived; for how ſhould ſo well-informed a gentleman as Mr. DE GREY forget, what is due to a very ſplendid offer, from one of the oldeſt peers in the realm? [15]The Counteſs renews her compliments. I am in hourly expectation of a duke⯑dom: your addreſs, however, at pre⯑ſent, is, as uſual, to the Right Hon. the Earl of BLESSINGBOURNE.

LETTER LVII. Captain CARLISLE to Mr. LASCELLES.

THOUGH your laſt reliſhed more, my dear LASCELLES, of the inconſiderate than I hope belongs to your character, yet it ſet my heart at reſt upon the ſubject of the Marchioneſs.

Another ſtrange circumſtance has happened in this family. Two days after I had returned ſuch a reply to Mr. DE GREY's letter as appeared to me proper and conſiſtent, he put into my hands a letter from BLESSINGBOURNE, who had made formal overtures of marriage betwixt Miſs DE GREY and Sir ANDREW FLIGHT. Nothing ever [17]excited more real aſtoniſhment, for I had never once dreamt of a treaty coming from that quarter, knowing, ſo per⯑fectly as I do, LUCIA's opinion of Sir ANDREW. The epiſtle was penned with all the title-ſwelled vanity connected with the BLESSINGBOURNE character; and coronets, creſts, and ſupporters, lions rampant, ſpread eagles, and fields azure, danced through every line. Having commented upon the ſtyle, with a good humour, which is above turning the re⯑ſult of a man's infirmity into a cauſe of affront, Mr. DE GREY aſked me my opinion of the match—

Pray heaven, I may never undergo ſo ſevere a trial as I ſuſtained in the proceſs of the following ſhort but moſt agonizing converſation, of which, you will have the more perfect idea from [18]dialogue. It paſt in Mr. DE GREY's library.

I have ever made you, my dear Mr. CARLISLE, my confident upon various occaſions: we have never canvaſſed to⯑gether a love affair. Though you tell me you are to have a little more know⯑ledge of ſociety, before you venture upon a wife; yet I know you to have a very competent judgement of theſe things, becauſe you have ever been an accurate obſerver. This letter be⯑fore us, opens to you a ſecret of the utmoſt conſequence to your friends. Peace. What do you think of it?

Sir—you muſt certainly—be—be the beſt judge of theſe matters—'Tis too nice a point—

Riches you know are out of the queſ⯑tion. Titles do not glow in my eyes, as they do in thoſe of his Lordſhip—

Oh—Mr. DE GREY—what—what are titles, to—to—

To what, my CLEMENT?

I beg pardon, Sir.—Perhaps a Counteſs may not diſpleaſe even the amiable Miſs DE GREY.

What, you would adviſe her then to the match; would you, my friend?

Who, I adviſe—Gracious God for⯑bid that I—that is—I ſhould be ſorry any thing might, from my advice, turn out ſo—ſo—ſo as—

Nobody, to be ſure, can anſwer for events: but what do you think of Sir ANDREW, my dear CARLISLE?

What does Miſs DE GREY think of him, Sir?

That's what I meant rather to aſk you. As an old friend, I did not know but ſhe might have let you into the ſecret—

What ſecret, Sir—?

Perhaps, you think more highly of— Mr. Medway. [I was ready to ſink into the earth, LASCELLES, at this queſtion.]

Of Mr. MEDWAY, Sir!—To be ſure MEDWAY—Mr. MEDWAY, certainly, Sir—if he meets the Lady's appro⯑bation.

At any rate I will decline his Lord⯑ſhip's offer. I am perſuaded, LUCIA has no ſort of affection for Sir ANDREW. He is too light, too volatile.—Now, that objection does not, I think, lie [22]againſt MEDWAY. He is a ſtrange headed, but I believe he is a good hearted creature. Do you think this perſon a better match?

He has made offers then, Sir, has he?

Admitting he had, is he a man you would have me fix on?—

If to Miſs DE GREY he were agreeable, Sir,—to be ſure—you—you—you could not do better—

Tell me frankly, my deareſt Cap⯑tain, do you know any body whom [23]you think ſhe likes better in the tender way we ſpeak of?—

Sir—likes better—likes better than Mr. MEDWAY?

Aye, my friend—I could wiſh her happineſs to depend, in ſome meaſure, upon your choice. Perhaps neither Sir ANDREW, nor MEDWAY, are the men you would fix on—Be candid—do you know—are you acquainted with any perſon who you think loves her more tenderly?—

More tenderly!—oh yes, my dear Mr. DE GREY, ten thouſand times— more tenderly—oh God of heaven!—

You charm me with the tydings.— Pray name him to me—Is he young? Is he amiable—Is he ſteady—has he any of the virtues that diſtinguiſh the— of—of—

Here, LASCELLES, the converſation was interrupted by the appearance of MEDWAY himſelf, who came burſting into the library for his fiſhing pole.

Never was man relieved more criti⯑cally. We were talking of you, Mr. MEDWAY, ſaid Mr. DE GREY, — huſh—huſh—cried MEDWAY, empha⯑tically extending his finger—'Tis plain, Mr. DE GREY has fixed his heart, as well as LUCIA her's, on this man. Yet what a ſtrange converſation! For hea⯑ven's [25]ſake help me, if poſſible, to a clue. Yet MEDWAY—depend on it, MEDWAY is the man, to the terror of

LETTER LVIII. Mr. DE GREY to the Earl of BLES⯑SINGBOURNE.

THE importance of the con⯑ſideration to both the young parties concerned, and the regard that is due to the natural inclinations, as to the acquired affections, are the apologies I have to offer for appearing to neglect a ſuitable return of acknowledgment for the honour of your Lordſhip's letter, and for the ample propoſals it contained.

Prior to the receipt of your Lord⯑ſhip's favour, I made ſome attempt to [27]obtain the ſecret of my child's heart, and ſince, I have made a like attempt upon the heart of another perſon. Not, my Lord, that it is poſſible for me to prefer any gentleman to the nephew of the Earl of BLESSINGBOURNE, but be⯑cauſe I ſuſpected an affection ſubſiſting elſewhere: I think, my Lord, I have diſcovered a paſſion in my daughter, and a return of it in a certain young friend of mine, that may, poſſibly, grow, in a little time, into a circumſtance of eſſential conſequence.

Within a few days I ſhall be more aſſured of this, and if my child proves to have a heart not pre-engaged, there can be no doubt of her ſoon becoming ſenſible of the great honour of an al⯑liance with ſo near a branch of the BLESSINGBOURNE family. On the con⯑trary, if it ſhould turn out that her af⯑fections [28]are already poſſeſſed, it will appear obvious to your Lordſhip, that, as, in ſuch a caſe, ſhe cannot reward the tenderneſs of Sir ANDREW, ſhe can have no juſt title to the many dignities, and the immenſe fortunes which would follow ſuch a union.

What I would invite then from your Lordſhip, is, a ſhort ſuſpenſion, that the matter may lie open. I again re⯑peat, that a few days will naturally determine every thing. In the mean time, Sir ANDREW had better, I con⯑ceive, remain unacquainted with our treaty, left it ſhould any way terminate to his diſſatisfaction. On my part, I will haſten the neceſſary diſcovery as much as in my power, although your Lord⯑ſhip will eaſily imagine, a father's power, in a point of ſo much importance, is not very extenſive, when the father [29]is convinced of his child's integrity and diſcretion.

I ſhall be happy, my Lord, to hear, that the mode, I have ſubmitted to your Lordſhip, is crowned with your ap⯑probation.

I diſtinguiſh myſelf when I preſent my moſt humble compliments to the Counteſs, and I have the honour to be,

LETTER LIX. The Earl of BLESSINGBOURNE to R. DE GREY, Eſq.

THE Counteſs and I had no conception of ſuch a reply to our very diſtinguiſhing overtures, in favour of a young perſon utterly untitled; we re⯑ceive a very ill return from you, Mr. DE GREY. Our viſit to Prudence Place was, principally, (out of an old friend⯑ſhip, and becauſe we thought your daughter a very decent, prudent per⯑ſon) to promote a match between her and our nephew. We offered the moſt peculiar ſplendours, we offered lineal [31]honours—but we are deſired to wait the iſſue of another treaty. And pray, Sir, may we aſk, which or who it is amongſt your friends that ought to have the firſt offer in preference to the nephew and heir of the Earl of BLES⯑SINGBOURNE? I ſhall not mention the clear annual rent-roll of near fifty thouſand guineas a year, that will de⯑volve to him, nor will I reſt my conſe⯑quence upon the ſuperbeſt equipage; nor on the moſt magnificent ſeats in Europe; I confine myſelf to that illuſtrious line, into which the arms of your young Lady would be, if I may ſo ſay,—encoated. Every body can tell, Mr. DE GREY, I am not a boaſter; but, indeed, your tardy conduct borders ſomewhat upon incivility and diſreſpect. The Counteſs thinks ſo too. Neverthe⯑leſs, we ſtill think your LUCIA would adorn a coronet; ſhe is her favourite. [32]A little intercourſe with my Lady, after marriage, would make her—would— properly ſpeaking—prepare her for her new honours. Once more therefore we offer our ſervices to you again, and upon the full aſſurance of your imme⯑diate conſent, the Counteſs and I are proceeding to meaſures that may bring the point to a criſis.

LETTER LX. From the Same to Sir ANDREW FLIGHT, at R. DE GREY's, Eſq.

WE have reaſons to deſire you will look upon Lucia De Grey, as upon a Lady that is firſt to be the Lady FLIGHT, and afterwards Counteſs of BLESSINGBOURNE, if not of a rank ſtill higher. She will be informed of this circumſtance at the ſame time you are; and as ſoon as certain preliminaries between Mr. DE GREY and I are ad⯑juſted, the ceremony ſhall be compleated. To be ſure the honours are every one in our hands, but never mind that: ſhe is [34]a beautiful woman: and with regard to honours, as they cannot be divided, we are contented to beſtow them in conſi⯑deration of her merit and perſon.

I ſhall give you very liberally, and I ſend you now a bill for preſent uſe, though, by-the-by, it aſtoniſhes both me and the Counteſs, how you can continue to ſquander ſuch ſums in a country village during the time of a viſit.

LETTER LXI. The Counteſs of BLESSINGBOURNE to Miſs DE GREY.

I HAVE prevailed on the Earl to ſuffer ANDREW, our nephew, to offer you his hand. The acceptance of it is a point ſo much out of the queſtion, that it would be ridiculous to mention it. To do you juſtice, you are the only young woman I know, of no deſcent, who could ſit at my right⯑hand, upon a viſit to certain people, without diſgracing me. Nay more, I [36]believe your being about me a little when you are Lady LUCIA FLIGHT (for I dare ſay you will wait patiently for my coronet a few years) will totally finiſh you both for a carriage and a drawing⯑room. This is ſaying very much, Lady LUCIA—'Pſhaw, I am ſo uſed to write only to people of condition, that I declare I can ſcarce reconcile my pen to a Miſs, or a Madam—This, Miſs DE GREY, is, I ſay, allowing great matters for you. I know but four peo⯑ple upon earth—and one of them is a crowned head—who can either ſit in a ſedan, carry themſelves in a coach, or fill a chair.

On the day of marriage, which ſhall not be diſtant, if Mr. DE GREY be⯑haves prudently, I ſhall decorate you with my own hand. Mean while you [37]will, doubtleſs, become ſenſible of the accompliſhments of your future huſ⯑band.

LETTER LXII. Sir ANDREW FLIGHT to Mr. HEATH⯑COATE.

HERE is a fine piece of work cut out, HEATHCOATE. Aunt and uncle have reſolved to marry me to LUCIA DE GREY. The old fooliſh Lord hath ſent me a letter which ſet me laughing for a whole hour. He bids me look upon the damſel as upon the happy ſhe who is to be the cara ſp [...]ſa of Sir ANDREW FLIGHT. He bids me prepare for marriage—mar⯑riage, HEATHCOATE? If I ever mar⯑ry—why then—But, by the ſacred ſouls [39]of all the Lords, Barons, Farls, Dukes, Dutcheſſes, Popes, Cardinals, Kings, and Grand Monarques, that went be⯑fore me, I will turn this event to ſome pleaſant advantage. I ſay pleaſant, be⯑cauſe to think upon it ſeriouſly, is quite and clean out of the queſtion. LUCIA DE GREY is too modeſt, yet too aweful, and too much—a thouſand times too much, hovered over by a ſet of cut⯑throat fellows, who would ſlice me and eat me, were I to pretend to the ſerious fact. And between ourſelves, I believe both CARLISLE and MEDWAY are in her train. To ſay the truth, ſhe is a woman I can never laugh either with or at: for as to the former, I never could make her ſmile at the expence of ano⯑ther in my whole life; no, not even the HEWSONS, who might ſet the muſcles of the very devil upon the ſimper: and [40]as to the latter, ſhe does every thing ſo unaffectedly, that ridicule is obliged to give up the ſubject in deſpair. Then ſhe has a curſed method of looking ſo as to command deference; and there⯑fore, beautiful as ſhe is, I hate to be in her company—nevertheleſs, HEATH⯑COATE, if I do not draw from this pre⯑cious epiſtle of my uncle ſome divine [...]un—but enough—time will ſhew.

I am now likely to be in the very me⯑ridian of my ſpecies of enjoyment— after much fatigue of—laughing, I have brought the HEWSONS to the true per⯑fection of abſurdity—a very little time will ſhew you that the ludicrous can go no farther than I have made it go in them—Such joy—ſuch frolic—ſuch— but it would be abſolutely iniquitous to foreſtall the buſineſs—no, let it take [41]you by ſurprize—let it come on you unawares—let it ſeize you unprepared, and deluge your cheeks in tears of extacy.

LETTER LXIII. Mr. GABRIEL HEWSON to Miſs DE GREY.

IT is impoſſible to have been ſo long burning under the torrid rays of your tranſporting beams of beauty, without becoming ſenſible to their piercing—heart-piercing fervour. As well might the tender bud lie on the ſhore of India, without being parched by the favours of Apollo—a titled gen⯑tleman now at my elbow, but whoſe name I am not yet entitled to diſcloſe, is, as it were, my guardian genius, and tells me, that you, charming Madam, [43]have within theſe few days been pleaſed, out of the benignity of your gracious ſelf, to ſpeak of my parts and perſon with ſome condeſcending complacency. This emboldens me, charming Madam, to ſay, that I think you are the moſt in⯑comparable piece of celeſtial workman⯑ſhip in the way of woman, that ever glowed under the aſtoniſhed eyes of a ſmall ſpectator—the natural conſequence of all this, Madam, is, that I am the humbleſt of your idolaters. I find, charming Madam, met in you, all the graces which Horace, Pliny, Homer, Virgil, and all other writers, ancient or modern, give to their ſeveral favourites. Your lips are ſweeter than thoſe at⯑tributed to Briſeis—your hair has more of the nitidus in it, than belonged to that which was the diſtinguiſhing pro⯑perty of the divine Lyce's, and your air is conſiderably more ennobled than [44]that of the majeſtic Dido, Queen of Carthage, celebrated in the Aeneid written by Virgil.

I ſhould never, charming Madam, have preſumed to addreſs ſuch ambi⯑tious ſentiments to your exalted ele⯑gance, were I not told that you prefer ſcientific ſuperiority to perſonal per⯑fection. Some perſons have been pleaſed to flatter me with poſſeſſing pretty fully the laurels of the firſt excellence; and as to the laſt, though nature hath not endowed me altogether with the graces of a CARLISLE, yet I find in my glaſs an alteration ſomewhat for the better every day, and hope in the end to ſtep without any kind of embarraſſ⯑ment.

I take love-ſecrets to be amongſt the ſanctum ſanctorum of arduus rebus, and therefore I beg this may be confined [45]to the ſacred ſhrine of your moſt beau⯑tiful boſom.

P. S.

Omnia vincit amor.

LETTER LXIV. Mr. HENRY HEWSON to Mr. HEATH⯑COATE, Eſq.

I HAVE not catched up gooſe feather for ſome time, Caſe why? be⯑cauſe I was amind to gee time for the perfaction of the thing—I am got a woundly way ſince my laſt, and fancy a couple o'weeks more will finiſh me, that is, if Sir ANDREW ſticks cloſe by me, and I continues to practiſe the thing—Caſe why? practiſe makes parfect. To ſhew you that I ha' not been ſilent for nothing, I muſt let you know that [47]I ha'n't chang'd ten words with HETT. this week. Caſe why? what's ſo far from the goe of the genteel gig, as to take notice of one's houſhold ſpouſe be⯑fore company? 'ſpecially when a body is learning a touch of the times. To ſay truth, her lips looked develiſh ruddy t'other day, and I lent um a ſmack that echoed like waggon whip—for I could not help it, ſeeing that's ſhe's one of your dainty ones—but Sir ANDREW ſoon took me aſide, and ga' me a bit of a leſſon, and made me heartily aſhamed on't. I muſt let you know too, that I manage my little bit of a black ſack bobbiſhly, thof ribbons and flourri⯑diddles at ſides tickle nape o' one's neck conſumedly. Neither do I look ſo damn'd ugly as might be ſurſpected, regard to frenchfied foretop, and hair-bundles ſtuck out ſide of one's head. Fat of [48]one's feace helps to take of hugeneſs of thing, which is but natural, ſeeing that one ſwells out t'other; and this makes feace and hair go, as a man may ſay, cheek-by-jowl without quarreling. It's pity, I'm given to ſweattin ſo much, as I find it don't do at all for a better-moſt perſon. I ha' got half dozen fine white handkerchiefs, but they're ſo cuſſed cambrickey that they are nothing in ſuch a grepe as mine, and I melt ſo this fmoaking weather, that I make 'em every mother's ſon quite of a ſtew. Truth is, I begin to ſee, plite⯑neſs has, like every thing elſe, 'vantages and not 'vantages. When I was an ignoramus, I uſed to ſit in hall, or ride to hayfield with nightcap on head, or coloured handkerchief under hat for 'vantage of dripping in ſummertide; but no ſuch matter now; there's nothing [49]ſo ill-bred as to be caught ſweattin; nay, more than that, 'tis quite out of the goe of the thing to mention the very word—'tis ſweattin with fellers of yeſterday, but, I find, 'tis presfieration with folks that are obliged to be deſunt. Sir ANDREW has been [...]t me ſome time (ſeeing I can't keep this presfieration to myſelf) to bleed and bolus for ſix weeks or ſo, that I may vacuate ſome of my moiſter, and dry up my poruſſes abit. What do you think of this, Eſquire? I hate purgers as I hate Lucifer—Satan⯑cotus, as Gab calls him, but I would even potecarryarize myſelf for ſake of good breeding. To tell you the truth, there is ſort of a pleaſant comical nothing⯑at-all, in the life of your better-moſt genii, that I like mortationly well in⯑deed. I warrant you, we went it round the great garden laſt night by moon⯑ſhine [50]for two hours—none but your tip-top ſpecie, giggling and going it all the time—clack—clack—clack— yes—yes—yes—no—no—no—ha! ha! ha!—he! he! he!—ti-tum, ti-tum—ti⯑ti-dum—Pardon me, Madam—pardon me, Miſs—Skuſe me, Sir—out with the foot—off with the hat—down with the breech—oh Eſquire—Eſquire HEATH⯑COATE, 'tis juſt the thing to a T. Laſt night, a little afore we went awalkin, I finiſhed giving the hand, as they call it—that is to ſay, getting a pretty lady over a gutter, for inſtance—or handin her over a puddle, or any thing the ſame way—allowing for th'alteration. I was once, before I had my fortune, low enough to ſay on ſuch caſſion, Come Bet, Het, Pol, Mol, Fan, Kit, or what not—allowing for the alteration— Come, gee us your fiſt, or tip us your [51]daddle—or lends hold o' your fore⯑foot, elſe may hap you may draggle the tail o' you in the water. Odds merciful miſerecordibus! as Gab ſays, no ſuch thing now by a million. Contrary ſo much, that one of the beſt things a better-moſt body can do, is to manage this matter as't ſhould be. Sir ANDREW himſelf, for ſample, is the greateſt dabſter in the world at it. For inſtance, there's he, there's a woman, and there's a croſſing, or a ſlippihin of waterwaſh; mayhap, we'll ſay, covered o'er with ſtepping ſtones—Now mark, Eſquire. Now comes your jemmy work—Well— get over they muſt—Indulge me, Miſs, or Madam, or my Lady, ſays he, allowing for th'alteration, with the favor of your fair hand—Sir, you are very plite. Well—what's next? Whew— ſhe's a t'other ſide. But how the miſere⯑cordibus [52]did ſhe get there I wonder, ſays you? Ah! there lies the point. Now I'll tell you. Firſt, Miſs, &c. allowing for the alteration, tucks up piece of petticoat, ſets her pretty foot on ſtepping ſtone, ſhews dainty turn'd ancle, and is obliged, for the ſake of better⯑moſt breedin, to look a little as if ſhe was ſcar'd. Oh, Lord—ſays ſhe—Fear not, dear creature, divine angel, noble Madam, magnanimous Miſs, &c. al⯑lowing for the alteration—fear nothing: then, Eſquire, he takes her hand, and takes her waiſt, and gis her a querrick, and they take a little bit of a thing 'twixt a hop and a jump, and he kiſſes her glove, and bends hinder-part, and bows head, and gets grin into's feace, and gis a bit of he, he, he, and ſhews his white, powder-purg'd grinders, and—and—'tis all over as neat as the [53]Lady's leg: I ha' been a long while on this head, caſe 'tis almoſt half way clean up to the top genii, and Sir ANDREW 'clares 'pon his honour, no gentleman can do long without it—I ha' practis'd hugely, and I find I am up to every part of the puddle-pliteneſs, 'cept pouſing out hinder-part, and getting the grin. In aiming at the firſt matter, I ha' overſet one of Maſter DE GREY's china jars; for the thing is natural. I a'n't made quite ſo plite as I ſhould be 'bout the bottom of waiſt, or mayhap a little bit farder, ſo it's out of the queſ⯑tion for me to wriggle't as little and limberly as ſuch a fine genteel, grey⯑hound-ham'd ſon of a gentleman as Sir ANDREW. The grin too is, as I juſt now ſaid, a hard thing to hit off. I can't, for ſoul of me, find out any thing to make a man laugh at getting [54]a woman over a cartret, and as to laughing where one don't ſee the joke, and where the thing is one almoſt nothing at all, I never could do it ſince I was born. Beſides, why? I am ſo cuſs'd covered about the gills, that if I could laugh as heartily as Sir ANDREW, 'twould not do, for my cheeks are too ſolidum firmus, if a man choſe to be learned, that it's enough to crack one's cheek furniture. I begin to day to learn to hold my tongue, or elſe talk about nothing, juſt as caſſion ſees fit. Hett gets on at a pure ſize. Sir AN⯑DREW is giving her a lectur about airs, and high notions, fan-fluttering—hem⯑ming, and the like, now in the garden. Gab would do very well if his larning did not ſtand in his way. But we ſhall all be fit to be ſeen in a ſhort time, be⯑fore we go back; tho' as to coming [55]near Captain CARLISLE, that's impoſ⯑ſible: yet I am ſure he never took any pains to be better-moſt, for every thing he does looks too eaſy for that—ſame thing with Miſs LUCIA.

LETTER LXV. Mrs. HEWSON to Sir ANDREW FLIGHT.

YOU aſſure me there is no⯑thing more common, than for elegant people to write to each other, while they are under the ſame roof. You propoſe Lord and Lady SHUTTLECOCK, of your acquaintance, as examples, who, you tell me, when even they are chagrin'd, retire to their chambers, and keep the waiting-woman upon the hurry-ſcurry, with carrying notes of reproach to and fro, for ſeveral hours. Well, I pro⯑teſt, I wiſh the practice were univerſal, for it's mighty pretty; but then, indeed, it would become vulgar, and after that, it would nauſeate.

[57] Miſs LUCIA is ſo filled with ſpleen and megrim, that there is no getting an anſwer out of her. As to corre⯑ſponding with you, Sir ANDREW, whom I ſee every hour, what can I poſſibly have to ſay? If you wiſh me upon paper, as well as in perſon, to aſſure you, that I moſt cordially deteſt—deteſt every thing, that was once moſt charm⯑ing, I will repeat it. No truth was ever clearer. Thoſe laſſes, who were favourites formerly in my village, are now as deteſtable to me as the village itſelf. I was once ſo great a novice as to find pleaſure in ſeeing my ruſtic neighbours walk in their Sunday dreſſes with their happy homely huſbands, and aſſemble in the ſhade. My fooliſh heart leapt as they ſat ſinging at their doors, or working at their windows—the very hollo—how-do-you, and hail-fellow-well⯑met, had all attractions for me—The [58]ſmell of an hay-cart was pleaſure, and the ſight of an harveſt-home abſolute extacy. Note the alteration: I am wholly inverted in point of pleaſure: if, on my return to Helter-Skelter-Hall (which is fitting up) I feel any ſatiſ⯑faction from the ſight of people work⯑ing at windows, or ſinging at doors, it will be upon account of the pride of comparing their grovelling ſituation with mine: if I bear the noiſe of an hay⯑cart, it will be only from reflecting that my carriage-horſes (for ſuch I will have) ſhall fare the better for it.—If I can again reconcile to myſelf the preſence of lads and wenches dizened out in their fooliſh finery, it will only be for the joy of my ſweeping by them in magni⯑ficence, that ſhall make them ſhy off with amazement: and if an harveſt⯑home can ever more become ſupporta⯑ble, it will only be from the conſi⯑deration [59]that it comes but once a year, and is then over for a twelvemonth— What other arguments can I uſe to convince you of my readineſs to adopt the modes and manners you ſpeak of?— As to Mr. HEWSON—he is a very good creature, and, when you have done with him, I ſhall love him better than ever. I cannot come into your opinion about the elopement you ſpeak of, be it ever ſo faſhionable; for I moſt aſſuredly do love Harry, and therefore it is impoſſi⯑ble. Your aſſertions of tenderneſs to me, I am to take, you know, as mere effects of ſentiments which are to come of courſe, and as ſuch, they are very gallant. I ſhall not, indeed, be in any degree angry with you for the continuance of ſuch civilities in the way of promoting breed⯑ing. Nor will I ſcruple any thing ſo accompliſhed a gentleman propoſes, ex⯑cept the elopement ſcheme, which, I [60]again ſay, I can never conſent to. Any thing elſe I obey—nay, I have con⯑vinced you of it. I do not ſpeak to Harry before company; I walk and ſtep as different as poſſible from what I did— I perceive the abſolute neceſſity of only occaſionally hearing and ſeeing: I find every now and then as violent a deſire to faint, after a little decent walking, as Lady BLESSINGBOURNE herſelf.—I was almoſt expiring with the ſmell of violets laſt night in my room, though I uſed to doat on them. I can drink two glaſſes, and exactly another half, of wine and water—My dinners, of late, never digeſt, without a drop of rataſia. Thoſe drops, and reſtoratives, which I before never heard of but in books, are now a part of my exiſtence. I can bear no ſmells but ſuch as are artificial. Every thing natural actually turns upon my ſtomach. I uſed to riſe at ſix, I [61]am now never up till near twelve.—I uſed to let my arms brave the ſun⯑beams—I now ſleep in gloves.—I uſed to defy the tan, I now never venture to ſtir without a ſhade.

What would you wiſh more?

My ſeven o'clock leſſon in LUCIA'S bower ſhall certainly not be forgotten. Mean time I have the great honour to be

LETTER LXVI. Miſs DE GREY to Miſs LASCELLES.

O MISS LASCELLES, what ſtrange and unaccountable confuſions are every hour happening in this houſe? Here is now come down formal over⯑tures from Lord BLESSINGBOURNE, for the ever fickle Sir ANDREW FLIGHT. The Counteſs too has written to me, in a way, that ought to make me ill ſatisfied with her. My father has had a letter, and Sir ANDREW himſelf received encouragement in this buſi⯑neſs from—his own vanity. He ſent into my chamber this morning the ridiculous incloſure. But I muſt break [63]off my letter almoſt as ſoon as I have begun it. A ſummons is given which I never diſobey. In haſte, therefore,

LETTER LXVII. Mr. DE GREY to the Earl of BLES⯑SINGBOURNE.

I CAN now take upon me to ſay, I ſhould do ſome violence to my child's inclination, and perhaps wound the boſom of another perſon, equally dear to me, were I to carry on any longer the moſt diſtant idea of a tender connexion betwixt her and Sir ANDREW FLIGHT. It is impoſſible that I ſhould reply to more of your Lordſhip's laſt peculiar letter, or, indeed, that I ſhould, with any propriety, [66]lengthen this letter, beyond adding to it the name of

LETTER LXVIII. Captain CARLISLE to G. LASCELLES.

IF I deſcribed to you, in my laſt, a ſcene that was painful, I have now one to relate that is dreadful. Mr. DE GREY again deſired to-day a con⯑ference with me—Miſs DE GREY was to partake of it—Ten minutes before, we had met, accidentally, in the garden, and, after a moment's pauſe of con⯑fuſion, parted precipitately by different walks.—This' ſecond interview, there⯑fore, came upon us before the anxiety occaſioned by the firſt had worn off. Our diſorder became exceedingly viſible, and neither of us ſpoke for a minute, though during that minute it was the [68]elaborate deſign of both to ſpeak— Have you not received a letter? ſaid Mr. DE GREY to LUCIA.

A letter, Sir! ſaid ſhe, trembling.

Yes, my dear, from—

From Miſs LASCELLES, do you mean, Sir? Oh, yes, I had one this day—

NO, LUCIA, I mean from the Earl of BLESSINGBOURNE.

From Lord BLESSINGBOURNE, papa?

[Here, LASCELLES, I roſe as if to withdraw.]

Pray, Mr. CARLISLE, don't leave us: no buſineſs can happen at this houſe, [69]without your being a welcome party.— Yes, my dear LUCIA, I mean from the Earl.

No, indeed, Sir.

Nor from the Counteſs?

Yes, Sir—I—I muſt confeſs, I am honoured with one from the Counteſs.

May I ſee it?

If I have it about me, Sir—but I am afraid—oh, no—here it is.

Read it to us, my dear girl; we know what the Counteſs can do—and I have, I believe, the fellow of it.

Excuſe me, Sir, I have got a terrible cough. If you pleaſe, I will leave it with you and Captain CARLISLE.

[70] Pray, my beſt LUCIA, don't ſtir— Come, CLEMENT—here, take my letter too, and read both to us—

I, Sir?—

Then, I will.

[Here, LASCELLES, he read, firſt, the Earl's, and then that of the Counteſs; upon which I had the raſhneſs to ex⯑claim—I am not very apt to give way to my indignation; but, if I had here that ſcoundrel Lord, who can ſuffer his wife to inſult ſuch a woman as Miſs DE GREY, I'd twiſt his noſe off!]

Oh, my dear LASCELLES, what a ſcene enſued. LUCIA turned pale— fixed her eyes upon me, in a kind of gentle reproach, and, after making an effort to retire, ſhe fell lifeleſs on the [71]floor. God of Heaven! what did I feel at that moment?—She continued to riſe, only to faint again—I kneeled down—I caught her in my arms—My tears bathed her beautiful hand—I ſtag⯑gered under the weight of her, through enfeebling agony—Her dear lips qui⯑vered—I leaned down in my confuſion, even till I felt her cheek upon mine— I kiſſed the tears away—Her father was ſpeechleſs—She revived a little, but again relapſed, and without alarming any other part of the houſe (which her delicacy deſired might be the caſe) ſhe was conducted by Mr. DE GREY into her apartment. He is ſtill by her ſide—I went out in an agony, and I write this in the ſame ſituation. What can poſſibly be the meaning of all this?—Is Sir Andrew then at laſt the man?—Was ſhe ſo violently hurt at my menace againſt Lord BLESSINGBOUNE? [72]Does her paſſion extend to the very roots of the family? What then be⯑comes of Medway? Whatever be the truth—it is certain that LUCIA DE GREY is wretched, and therefore it is impoſſible the moſt poignant miſery ſhould be eſcaped by the unfortunate

LETTER LXIX. Mr. LASCELLES to Captain CARLISLE.

I HAVE the pleaſure to inform my dear friend that AUGUSTA is more reconciled to her ſituation than could be expected. She ſeems, at length, to become conſcious of the propriety of taking our advice, admires you for the fortitude of your virtue; and even in⯑duces the idea of ſoon ſeeing the Mar⯑quis; whom, by-the-by, it is near time to hear from. I diſpatch this news in a ſhort note, merely becauſe I am convinced it will communicate to you the pleaſure it has already given

LETTER LXX. Captain CARLISLE in anſwer.

YOUR favour, relating the happy change in the diſpoſition of the Marchioneſs, is replied to immediately; and although it came to my hand, juſt after I had taken it from ſealing a letter containing the moſt pathetic ac⯑counts, yet was I not wholly dead to the felicity of ſo agreeable a piece of fortune. Continue, I beg of you, to confirm, to eſtabliſh, and to compleat her in ſuch charming reſolutions—tell her, ſhe has now found out the method of making me truly admire her: aſſure her, that by ſuch conduct my adoration is effectually acquired. Inſpire her with [75]chearful ideas of ſociety—honour—ele⯑gance—and all the tranſports in the train of truth—Omit no circumſtance that may fix her in the ideas ſhe now entertains.

LETTER LXXI. Mr. LASCELLES to Sir ANDREW FLIGHT.

THERE is infinite difficulty in the buſineſs—The Marchioneſs be⯑gins to rave about her confinement, which, without the preſence of CARLISLE, is, ſhe ſays, inſupportable. She raves— ſhe ſtamps—ſhe inſiſts upon ſeeing him. Thirteen love letters have I deſtroyed ſince yeſterday morning, which ſhe imagines I was fool enough to ſend to CARLISLE—One written ſince upon the ſame ſubject, I preſerve juſt to ſend you by way of ſpecimen—All the glorious fire which ſhe expreſſes there, ſhall, in due time, burn for you—I— GEORGE [77]LASCELLES, the ſucceſsful, have ſaid it. My ſiſter has written twice to Miſs LUCIA of late—She always gives me her packets to put in the office—Not knowing but ſhe might ſay ſomething improper of the violent Marchioneſs, I threw the aforeſaid packets, not into the office, but into the fire—My head and hands are full, but the Lady is beyond every thing that was ever before ſeen on this ſide Heaven; and ſo I ſhall go through it with ſpirit for the ſake of my beloved Baronet.

I have been thinking that a few new trinkets might ſoften a hard place or two;—ſhe came unaccommodated, you know. If you were to ſupply this matter, you might, perhaps, get her vanity in your favour—that is a won⯑derful point gained. When afterwards ſhe came to know, that one of the [78]richeſt, as well as neateſt men in England, was the accommodator, (and upon ſo diſintereſted a principle too) why it is ten to one—the thing is, at leaſt, worth an effort or two—whatever, therefore, you remit, ſhall be laid out to the moſt promiſing advantage. I am pretty well verſed in the baubles that ſet a woman's eyes ſparkling; and if you can once charm the eyes, depend upon it the heart is not in a very bad humour.

LETTER LXXII. The Duke of DOWNDERDALE to Sir A. FLIGHT.

LEAVE DE GREY'S directly. You are not to attach yourſelf to his daughter. We are ill-treated. Come poſt to the Abbey immediately.

P. S.

The dukedom, you ſee, is obtained.

LETTER LXXIII. Sir ANDREW FLIGHT to Mr. HEATH⯑COATE.

I SHALL certainly add to all my delicious laughs the ſecret poſſeſſion of Mrs. HEWSON—She meets me every evening in the wilderneſs for inſtruction— Humph—read the incloſed which I have juſt broke open—Conjecture the charming conſequence—But let me ſee—the moment of meeting is not yet theſe four hours—what's to be done?— Oh ſpirit of pleaſure, that leaveſt not a ſingle ſecond of vacancy, I thank thee. I have it, and my next ſhall explain the iſſue.

LETTER LXXIV. Sir ANDREW FLIGHT to G. LASCELLES, Eſq.

I HAVE only time juſt to wrap up a bill or two, which you will lay out to the beſt advantage, and level your artillery full at the heart of the divine Marchioneſs, for the future ſervice of

P. S.

Your letters are all aſkew. Gueſs, by the ſize of my letter, how buſy I am in pleaſure.

LETTER LXXV. Sir ANDREW FLIGHT to Mr. HEATH COATE.

FIRE and faggot, HEATH⯑COATE, what a deſperate concluſion had my curſed love of laugh like to have brought me to! You remember my promiſe of turning uncle's love-letter to advantage—yes, faith, I had like to have made a pretty advantageous piece of buſineſs of it truly!—Within an hair's breadth of being drowned, that's all! Wanting ſome employment, as I told you, to amuſe the time, be⯑twixt four o'clock, and Mrs. H—'s appointment, I muſt needs ſwagger away into the garden, where I knew [84]MEDWAY, the monſter, had juſt with⯑drawn with his angle. He was ſtanding with his eyes fixed intently upon the line, greedily devouring the dancing cork upon the ſtream, when I paſſed by on the oppoſite ſide, as not ſeeing him. The Earl's letter was in my hand—I appeared to be tickled to the ſoul. I affected to hold my ſides with the pain of laughing. I mentioned the name of Lady LUCIA thrice with rapture. My hero threw down his fiſhing-rod, and coming round to me with inconceivable violence, and the moſt ſcarlet viſage you ever beheld, even more a flame than a ſetting ſun, he cries out—Puppy, jackanapes — what did you frighten away my fiſh for? the largeſt carp that ever was ſeen nibbled that moment at my bait. Had it not been for you I ſhould have hooked him. What name, likewiſe, was that I heard you mention?— [85]it ſounded like LUCIA—What letter is that?—give it me this moment.—There is a plot on foot.—Huſh, my dear, give it me.

If my uncle inſiſts upon it, OLLY, ſaid I, how the devil can I help it?

Inſiſts upon what? replies he.

Upon my being married, replied I.

Married! to whom?

To Miſs LUCIA, that is—Lady LUCIA that ſhall be—Counteſs of BLESSING⯑BOURNE, that might have been— Dutcheſs of DOWNDERDALE, that may be!

What LUCIA? retorted the ſavage.

[86] Are there then more heavens than one heaven? — more LUCIA DE GREY's than one LUCIA DE GREY? ſaid I, with great intrepidity, taking ſnuff.

I will read every ſyllable of that letter before I ſuffer you to move—I'll not be ſported with, Sir ANDREW.

Nay, I am all upon honourable terms. There are no ſecrets—'Tis to be a public affair, OLLY. There is the letter for thy inſpection.

He took it haſtily.

While he was ſwallowing the con⯑tents, up came Captain CARLISLE, but, ſeeing us engaged, with his uſual po⯑liteneſs was going to take another part of the garden. As if from ſome ſe⯑cret impulſe, that worſe was at hand, [87]I beckoned him. He walked towards me.

So then you are a fellow who make pretenſions to Miſs DE GREY, are you?

I did, by no means, like a certain ill-look about his eyes, and therefore replied mildly—As to that, my dear OLLY, you may eaſily ſee it was all my uncle's doing—My uncle, you ſee—

Your uncle be damned, replied he. Have you written to the Lady your⯑ſelf?

Written to the Lady, my dear OLLY? written to the Lady?—why, as to a letter to the Lady—

[88] Look ye, Sir ANDREW, as I know you don't run into danger, I ſhall not hurt you; but I muſt juſt inform you, caſually, that for equivocating you are a moſt abominable coward; and as to the matter of daring but to think of Miſs LUCIA—huſh—huſh—my dear, ſay no more upon that ſubject—I ſhall be ſatisfied with giving you to the fiſh, that's all—

At the cloſe of this ſpeech, he caught hold of my arm, and would abſolutely have twirled me ſouſe into the pond, had not CARLISLE ran briſkly to my reſcue, and ſaved me from the bar⯑barian's fury. He even told CARLISLE that he inſulted the fiſhes by ſaving me, and then walked away growling like a lion.—Poor CARLISLE ſeemed to be ſadly out of ſpirits, and when he had reſcued me, bowed with his wonted [89]elegance as if I had done him the fa⯑vour, and walked dejectedly away.

Such, HEATHCOATE, has been my fun—however, bad luck now, better hereafter, ſays the proverb. To con⯑vince you that I have a bolder heart than you imagine, I will in deſpite of events go this moment to Mrs. H—; for my watch tells me 'tis exactly the time.

LETTER LXXVI. Mr. MEDWAY to the DUKE of DOWN⯑DERDALE.

IF you knew me perfectly, you would know I hate words—When one man thinks fit to do an injury to another, the conſequence is ſo univerſally known, that, I take it, the only words really proper for the occaſion are— huſh—huſh—no noiſe. LUCIA, whom you took upon you go give away, is be⯑loved by me. Beſides, your letter about her, is the ſaucieſt thing I ever read in my life—the more ſo, in conſideration that you are a Duke. If you are not [91]mean enough to plead privilege, you will invite me to ſome place or another juſt to tell me that I am a ſcoundril. Huſh— huſh—you underſtand me.

LETTER LXXVII. Miſs DE GREY to Miſs LASCELLES.

MY miſery increaſes every moment—I am ſcarce able to hold the the pen—CARLISLE ſtill avoids me moſt aſſiduouſly—yet it is a generous ſenti⯑ment of his, that has reduced me to the ſtate in which I have for ſome time been involved. My father has been ſeveral times on the point of making particular enquiries; but ſo great a ſimpleton am I, that, whenever he takes hold of my hand and begins to preſs it to his boſom, I tremble from head to foot, and he is deterred from ſpeaking. I am certain [93]my heart will break, if an alteration does not ſoon take place. Medway has again this minute been aiming his moon⯑ſtruck myſteries at me. Coming out of my chamber, I ſaw him upon the ſtair-caſe. I don't wonder, child, at your indiſpoſition, ſaid he—but huſh— huſh—think of it no more—You may depend upon his death within a week— No noiſe—Words are wind—Wind is air—Air's a tell-tale—huſh. You may depend upon his death, I ſay, within a week.

Death!—my dear LASCELLES — death!—whoſe death?—Ah, my God!— ſurely not Captain CARLISLE's. Yet, why do I terrify myſelf? MEDWAY is his admirer—The poor fellow's a madman.

[94] But, indeed, my dear, every thing alarms me now—I muſt hit upon ſome expedient, or you will aſſuredly loſe

LETTER LXXVIII. Mr. LASCELLES to Mr. HEATH⯑COATE.

'SDEATH and misfortune, what is to be done now!—ſuch a ſcene has paſſed at our houſe within the laſt twenty-four hours, that I am half diſtracted. — The Marchioneſs hath eſcaped—My ſiſter diſcovered me juſt as I was about to pull the fruit, which was (make-believe) ripening, for our tool, Sir ANDREW, and I am in the utmoſt confuſion.—To crown the whole, I have reaſon to think that curſed letter of CARLISLE's got ſafe to hand, while mine miſcarried—for, within this hour, I have noticed two ſtrange muffled up [96]fellows walking backwards and for⯑wards within ſight of my dining-room windows—Perhaps the Marquis himſelf may be in town, and, according to his Italian cuſtom, theſe may be his deſpe⯑radoes, who will dog me to my deſtiny— I am all terror, for I am all guilt.—Have you a bed to ſpare if I could eſcape to your apartment!—I cannot arrange my thoughts ſufficiently to tell the ſtory of the whole ill-judged tranſaction. But, altogether, paſſion ſeems to have laid a trap for my deſtruction.

LETTER LXXIX. Sir ANDREW FLIGHT to Mr. HEATH⯑COATE.

WORSE and worſe, HEATH⯑COATE. Diſappointment again and again—Within the breadth of an hair of my perdition! The charming Mrs. HEWSON was at the bower two minutes after me.

"Punctual as lovers to the moment ſworn," ſaid I—Well, charming pupil, are you now convinced that—

I am convinced, ſaid ſhe, Sir AN⯑DREW, that you ought to be contented with the many innocent freedoms I [98]allow, without preſſing me to grant any thing criminal.

Fie, child, when ſhall I perſuade thee to throw off entirely all thoſe Helter-Skelter-Hall ideas! — Believe me, women of true taſte and faſhion are above ſuch grovelling, homeſpun no⯑tions—Pleaſure is the word with per⯑ſons that are truly polite; and the plea⯑ſures I ſpeak of, are the moſt indiſ⯑penſible. Take my word for it, you can only be a better ſort of Plebeian, unleſs you admit of them—Commence then, I implore you, the true woman of the ton at once, and make your Sir ANDREW happy—Nay then, if you refuſe me, I muſt take the faſhionable liberty gently to force compliance.

To force compliance?—is it really your intention to diſhonour me?—Stand [99]off, Sir; you inſult me—I am certain it is no derogation to a woman of faſhion to be true [...]o her huſband—and if it were, that is a part of the ton I ſhall never aſpire to: to ſpeak the plain fact, Sir ANDREW, this laſt action and con⯑verſation has given me a very poor opinion of—

I caught hold of her again—

She threw me from her, and gave a ſhriek—But what of that?—to make the matter ten times more terrible, her exclaiming arrouſed the ear of the pen⯑ſive Carliſle, who was ſitting not far off. Never ſaw I ſuch manly menaces upon the brow of mortal. His look awed me more than the loudeſt threats of the terrific MEDWAY—Fie, Sir ANDREW, ſaid he, (when the Lady was walking off in pretty confuſion)—Is this well [100]concerted? Muſt you violate the laws of hoſpitality, at the very time that you ſeduce ſimplicity?—Fie upon it!—I am not one, Sir ANDREW, who pique my⯑ſelf upon breaking in upon the private revellings of the libertine; but the ground you now tread upon, is conſe⯑crated by belonging to your friend— If that, Sir, has no weight with you, I muſt add ſomething to its force, by informing you, that it is the property of my guardian.

Saying this, he gave a gentle incli⯑nation of his head, and paſſed on.

Oh, HEATHCOATE, HEATHCOATE, how diminutively was I ſhrunk up; how deſpicably was I dwindled after his departure? I ſat a little while under the agony of being the ſubject of my own ridicule. Annihilation juſt [101]then would have been a bleſſing, and I ſneaked into the houſe at laſt, as me⯑lancholy a mite as even crawled upon the earth. To finiſh the matter, CAR⯑LISLE treated me at ſupper, as if nothing had happened.

LETTER LXXX. Mr. LASCELLES to Mr. HEATHCOATE.

THE fellows that hovered over my houſe have diſappeared, and I take up the pen again in more quiet to ſpeak upon the ſubject of the run⯑away Marchioneſs. Ah, what a line of ſucceſs was I in, if my curſed paſ⯑ſion had not made it crooked!—But there was no poſſibility of reſiſting the temptation—I ſaw the lovely creature in ſo many different poſitions—This moment ſhe dropt upon her knee to call bleſſings on her CARLISLE—the next ſhe ſprung up and execrated her fatal partiality. 'Twas in vain, under ſuch circumſtances, to attack her in [103]my own perſon — She looked — ſhe loved—ſhe exiſted only in CARLISLE. What was to be done? Stratagem aſ⯑ſiſted — I counterfeited the hand of CARLISLE—made, in his name, a ſo⯑lemn appointment to meet her with Mr. Laſcelles' permiſſion—Enjoined a ſacred league of reciprocal ſilence during the midnight viſit—was punctual to the aſſignation—aſſumed the murmurs of CARLISLE'S mellifluous voice, and was received with rapture—Felicity was be⯑fore me—but I was interrupted even at this very moment, juſt as the heaven of beauty was in proſpect; it was con⯑trived by ſome demon, that deteſts me, to occaſion a ſtumble as I was ſtepping along the apartment. By appointment, no lights were to be admitted—but this unfortunate ſtroke ſoon introduced one, and it was brought in the hand of my very ſiſter. The Marchioneſs was fixed [104]in aſtoniſhment—I knew not which way to ſtir—The reſt is too painful to re⯑peat—We left AUGUSTA in her cham⯑ber, but about an hour after we were departed, (my ſiſter to weep, and I to curſe myſelf) I heard ſomebody go ſoftly down ſtairs, and preſently tam⯑pering at the bars of the ſtreet-door— I followed the impulſe of my ſuſpicions, and hurried down alſo—You are not to be told it was the Marchioneſs—I be⯑ſought her to return—Without con⯑deſcending to reply, ſhe proceeded in her efforts: upon my interfereing a ſecond time, ſhe exclaimed, in a voice, that at once terrified and commanded me—"Villain, ſet me at liberty!"—I was fool and idiot enough to obey her— She ruſhed into the ſtreet like lightning, and, being habited in her boy's apparel, ran along unſuſpected.

[105] CAROLINE does nothing but upbraid— One thing is, the Marchioneſs has no idea of CARLISLE's addreſs—At all events, I muſt weather it out—Perhaps all may again be well—Whatever folly you commit, let not the curſed luſts of the fleſh get the better of your policy.

LETTER LXXXI. Captain CARLISLE to Mr. LASCELLES.

HOW is it that I do not hear any thing reſpecting the Marchioneſs?— But you will ſend me by the bearer (GEOFFRY) an explicit account of her. He goes to my houſe in town to pre⯑pare things for my reception there, and returns as ſoon as he poſſibly can; the faithful old creature is never eaſy unleſs he adjuſts every thing himſelf. It will be impoſſible for me to bear the ſight of Prudence Place many days longer. [107]The incloſed, which I have juſt received, will account for it. Heaven be with you, prays

LETTER LXXXII. [The incloſed.] Mr. MEDWAY to Captain CARLISLE.

NOT a word of noiſe, my dear boy — ſoftly — ſoftly — The new Duke is an old fool—his nephew is an infant—I will put an end to the whole matter inſtantly. Say nothing—I am a brief man. I did indeed deſign to kill his Grace firſt—but let him linger on a little longer—huſh—huſh—I will do the thing directly — Whiſper— whiſper, my friend CLEMENT—the [109] ceremony is at hand. I love you even though you ſaved a puppy from being drowned—but huſh, he ſhall die yet.

LETTER LXXXIII. The Duke of DOWNDERDALE to Sir ANDREW FLIGHT.

IF this reaches you before you are ſet off, don't leave Prudence Place without chaſtiſing the inſolence of the audacious OLIVER MEDWAY. He has abſolutely had the impudence to chal⯑lenge me to ſingle combat—to challenge a Duke, Sir ANDREW, think of that— Think of it, nephew, with proper ſo⯑lidity, and let it fire your indignation— Wipe off, I charge you, this ſtain upon [111]the ermine of your moſt illuſtrious fa⯑mily—Purify us at the riſque of your life—We know your native courage— we know the ſums you have expended in the art of defence. Now this is the time—Fight without delay—if you are wounded, all the phyſicians of the globe ſhall be at your ſervice—if you ſlay him, which I a thouſand times the rather hope, haſten to the continent, and I will join you there—if you fall, never were funeral honours ſo great as your's ſhall be, and you will alſo be entitled to a place by the ſide of crowned heads in Weſtminſter-abbey. I ſend a ſpecial courier with this, that he may bring me the iſſue of the combat—If you do not chooſe to engage, loſe no time to ſay ſo, that, old as I am, I may chaſtiſe the inſolent myſelf. But why do I ſay, not chooſe to fight? You will be even [112] too heroic: the blood in your veins is too rich to ſuffer an inſulter of your family to live. Mars protect you, my boy.

LETTER LXXXIV. The Marchioneſs of N. to Signora **** at Rome.

OH VIOLA, VIOLA, let not the fondneſs of the heart ever tempt you to expect any thing from the generoſity of man—of man, not only born for our deſtruction, but glorying in the deed—Ah, my friend, what perfidy!— what cruelty!—

But wherefore do I waſte time in theſe womaniſh complaints? — The moments are too precious—they are marked for revenge—revenge, VIOLA, which ſhall ſweep from the earth the moſt barbarous of men.

[114] Yes, VIOLA, he ſhall die—die by the arm of the wronged Marchioneſs— Wiſh you to know the name of my victim? know it then in that of the deteſtable Carliſle.

Oh, the indelicate—the ingrateful— I have not compoſure enough to write— He abſolutely attempted the baſeſt—

You can have no idea of it but from his own words.

This fallacious piece of wickedneſs, under the appearance of tenderneſs, was delivered, as uſual, by the execrable LASCELLES—to what end, do you think?— Ah, my dear Signora, it is too ſhocking for your fancy ever to conjecture it! With a bluſh I tell you, that, on my [116]part,—for, oh Signora, I loved to death—the moment of aſſignation was expected with unutterable impatience. It was obſerved.

The apartment was dark—univerſal tremor ſhook every nerve as I heard the ſtep approach me—But the foot in ad⯑vancing encountered a chair—Sure it was placed there by Providence to pro⯑duce the alarm which diſcovered to me—

—I am overwhelmed in tears— which diſcovered the villany of Laſcelles and Carliſle. Yes, Viola, CARLISLE, the great, the elegant, the virtuous⯑ſeeming CARLISLE—CARLISLE, dege⯑nerated to a mere pander—an ordinary wretch, who had agreed to ſacrifice the woman that adored him,—ſacrifice her to the man with whom he placed her [117]for protection!—But this is not half his baſeneſs;—this was not an enormity of ſufficient magnitude for the illuſ⯑trious CARLISLE. When LASCELLES left the room (while I was hurrying on my boy's apparel, reſolved to eſcape)— I felt under my feet ſome papers, which my good genius directed me to take up. I got ſafe from the deteſted houſe, and wandered, a ſolitary wretch, in the ſtreets, I knew not whither. It could not yet be paſt two o'clock in the morn⯑ing, and the watchmen, who are always abroad till after that hour, were ſtill upon their guard. As there are lamps diſpoſed through all the parts of this city, I ſtood under one of them to exa⯑mine my papers, which I judge muſt have fallen from LASCELLES' pocket— They contained—they contained — O pity me, VIOLA—read—read their in⯑famous contents, and confeſs, that your [118]poor Marchioneſs has but too much juſtice in the vengeance which ſhe is reſolved to take.

Such were the complottings, levell'd by two barbarous men, my VIOLA, againſt your poor — your unhappy Marchioneſs. I thought madneſs would have ſeized me at the moment of reading ſuch a black deſign—a deſign, my VIOLA, which LASCELLES was cruel enough to endeavour to carry into exe⯑cution—But why do I tell you of the miſery I have ſuſtained?—Why do I dwell upon the hardſhips of paſſing, formerly, through the ſtreets of Lon⯑don, while every happier heart was at reſt?—What are theſe, VIOLA, to the [122]agony of a ſoul burning with revenge?— Marriage too—The villain is upon the verge of matrimony, is he? This then is the cauſe of all my miſery—of all my diſappointments. His truth, his love, his tenderneſs is all reſerved for another woman it ſeems — the happy LUCIA D. G. — Perdition upon her charms! Diſcord upon their union! Oh, that I could find out her abode! Married — what married! — whom? CARLISLE, my CARLISLE—oh diſtrac⯑tion—diſtraction!

No, never, VIOLA—excuſe my deſpair. I have an oath to ſend to the great and good God, who now beholds me upon my knees.

It is regiſtered, VIOLA—it is written in the adamantine volume—I am to anſwer it.

Farewel.

[123] In Continuation.

I HAVE fixed upon a ſmall apartment belonging to people (to whom money reconciles all myſterious appearances) within ſight of CARLISLE's houſe in London—Six hours vigilance has pro⯑duced yet no other ſucceſs than the ſight of ſervants, who come in and go out of the houſe, as if they were at preſent the maſters of it. He is cer⯑tainly out of town,—perhaps making ſplendid preparations for his marriage— oh, my brain—my brain—I would die with tranſport to prevent it—It muſt be prevented—My oath—my oath—my oath!

Farewell.

[124] In Continuation.

I HAVE had a ſecond ſtring to my vow of vengeance. I ſhift my place, alternately, from watching the houſe of CARLISLE, to that from which I have a proſpect upon LASCELLES. By this means I am miſtreſs of both: no⯑thing can happen but under my eye.

My ſoul is upon guard.

I will now ſend off my letter. Fare⯑well again—to the

LETTER LXXXV. Mr. LASCELLES to Mr. HEATHCOATE.

OH! my dear HEATHCOATE, I have ſpent half this day, in vain, to pacify my outrageous ſiſter, but to no purpoſe. Her curſed virtue plagues me to death. I have diſpatched a line to CARLISLE, which, I hope, will keep all quiet, till, by ſome means, I can recover the Marchioneſs—But, at pre⯑ſent, I have not had courage to ſtep over my own threſhold ſince the curſed accident happened. One thing conſoles [126]me not a little: I perceive two papers, which I purpoſely wrote, forged, and dropt in AUGUSTA's apartment, are—be⯑yond my expectation, as ſhe went away in the night — pickt up. As ſhe knows not CARLISLE's addreſs in the country, and is, I believe, without much money—ſhe may be tempted to return. On the other hand, if theſe ſcheming papers have fallen into my ſiſter CA⯑ROLINE's poſſeſſion, it is worſe ſtill.— However, at all events, I take care no letters ſhall go out or come into my houſe without my knowledge. Yet, I ſuſpect, that CAROLINE receives letters left for her at ſome other place—I know not what to think. The curſed uncer⯑tainty too of the Marquis's journey, either to my place of direction, or to CARLISLE's, much encreaſes my anxiety. Ah! HEATHCOATE, HEATHCOATE, [127]what a hell it is to be liable to ſo many terrible apprehenſions! O guilt, guilt, guilt!

LETTER LXXXVI. From the Same to Captain CARLISLE.

[Previous to LASCELLES's receipt of the Captain's laſt].

I DID not, my dear Captain, write to you again upon the ſubject of the Marchioneſs; ſince, I judged, you would take it for granted, that, if any thing more unlucky had happen'd, I ſhould immediately have informed you: add to which, I was very unwill⯑ing — unleſs abſolutely neceſſary — to multiply thoſe attentions, which are em⯑ploying your generous heart at Pru⯑dence-Place. I am aſtoniſhed at the Marquis's delay. Your letter muſt have [129]miſcarried. Is it not adviſeable to write another? London is as barren and burning as Arabia Deſerta this horrid hot weather: I would not have you obliged to paſs your ſummer here for any conſideration. Not a ſingle ſoul of your acquaintance will be ſeen here theſe three months. For my part, I am tied by the foot. Buſineſs, you know (agency, my dear friend) muſt be minded. By-the-by, I muſt, once more, draw upon your kindneſs (that bank which is, I think, never to be overdrawn!) a friend of mine wants 200l. for two months, can you ſpare it? If you can, forward it when the poſt returns, to your ever obliged

LETTER LXXXVII. From the Same to Sir ANDREW FLIGHT.

EVERY thing ſmiles—in a little time, your amour will laugh like yourſelf—But you ſent the money ſhort. Female elegance is expenſive. I have ſomething in my eye that would thaw the chaſtity of Diana—yet, it may ſlip through my fingers: it is, like the Marchioneſs herſelf, too beautiful to hang in hand. Send an hundred pounds more, therefore, immediately, that the purchaſe may be compleated. I never [131]ſaw LUCIA DE GREY, but, I am con⯑vinced, ſhe muſt be an Ethiopian to AUGUSTA N.

LETTER LXXXVIII. Mr. HEATHCOATE to Mr. LASCELLES.

I RECEIVE the account of thy miſery, with ſympathy—May that ge⯑nius which hath hitherto inſpired us, ſtill keep thee from being cruſh'd!—All thy ſecrets are, and will ever be, ſafe in theboſom of your

P. S.

We will continue, as uſual, to divide the Baronet betwixt us. He hath, as [133]I hope, you already know, received a freſh ſupply. His uncle hath great ad⯑ditions of fortune annexed to his duke⯑dom—We may expect, therefore, to be as rich as Lords, at leaſt. Keep up thy ſpirits.

LETTER LXXXIX. Mr. MEDWAY to Mr. DE GREY.

THERE are ſo many med⯑dling fellows about, that I perceive 'tis impoſſible to ſtay till the houſe is clear, and it muſt be a public piece of work at laſt. Yes, my dear friend, though I hate noiſe, it muſt be done—Pleaſe to let it be Wedneſday, Thurſday, or Saturday next, as is moſt proper and ſuitable. I had, however, rather have it done, private, in the houſe, by the [135]way of huſh, if poſſible. Noiſe is ſhocking—We don't want a pack of ſtarers to inſtruct us what to do. Huſh— huſh. Five words are as effectual as fifty. I could have explained much conciſer, had I not choſen to make the appointment that is to determine the thing in writing. But there is too much company to ſpeak upon certain ſubjects that ſhall be nameleſs—huſh—huſh. The ſun gets up by four o'clock at this time of the year. Shall we riſe there⯑fore to morrow or the next day morning, and ſo contrive to have the buſineſs all done and over before the unconcerned part of the family are ſtirring? No noiſe—no noiſe—ſet your foot lightly— ſet your foot lightly—who's the wiſer, who's the wiſer?—huſh—huſh—huſh. You underſtand me. I will give you this with my own hand: do you do [136]the ſame—hem—hem—No noiſe— huſh!—

P. S.

Say in your anſwer, Ceremony, four o'clock, ſuch a day—Enough—huſh.

LETTER XC. Captain CARLISLE to Mr. LASCELLES.

PITY me, my dear LAS⯑CELLES, pity me! Never—no, never was man ſo beſet by temptations! MEDWAY drew me, a little while ſince, in his fly way, to the very farthermoſt end of the room, and in the ſofteſt whiſper told me, that—O miſery, Mr. LASCELLES!—he ſhould have the ring upon LUCIA's finger in leſs than three days. "Huſh—huſh—ſaid he, 'tis the greateſt in the world—the poor girl is quite ſick upon my delay—She chides me with her looks, every time I ſee her. I cannot even have leiſure enough to put to death the uncle and nephew— [138]They muſt live till the beginning of the week—Pray pardon me for that, my dear friend. One would have ſunk if you could but have let him alone— Poor LUCIA, longer delay would cer⯑tainly kill her!—Three days has ſhe, already, kept her chamber—Mum— Mum—No noiſe—I have the thing that will ſettle the buſineſs in my pocket."

This converſation was, like all his diſcourſe, in ſet, ſolemn ſentences—Mr. DE GREY, with an air of ſadneſs upon his venerable brow, came into the room, and we parted.

Oh LASCELLES, help me to lan⯑guage—help me to ſentiments which de⯑ſcribe ſenſations of horror, that I may tranſmit to you ſome idea of the feel⯑ing that took hold of my heart, when [139]I beheld MEDWAY put, as if by ſtealth, into the hand of Mr. DE GREY, a paper that ſeemed to be ſtampt with ſeveral ſeals!—Though it was too much like a letter, and too ſmall to be a ſettlement, yet my fancy ſuggeſted it was ſome deed ſufficient to my deſtruction—

Had not water been at hand, I ſhould certainly have dropt.

To ſwell the circumſtance, both the HEWSONS and Sir ANDREW FLIGHT were in the room.

This was not all. Mr. DE GREY ſeemed to receive the packet with plea⯑ſure, and retired rather abrupter than he was wont to do, when he leaves a com⯑pany.

[140] MEDWAY hummed a love ſonnet, and capered about the room; paſſing by me every now and then with a wink.

The trial was too hard to be ſup⯑ported. I withdrew. What was to be done? It was plain that Sir ANDREW's affair was out of the queſtion; Med⯑way—Medway only, was the man. For Medway—the cruel—(ah! why do I call her cruel?)—the charming LUCIA DE GREY was now languiſhing in her chamber: for him, ſhe had been long indiſpoſed—his image it was that filled her thoughts—his perſon it was that charmed her eyes—he only was—to— to—

I loſt my ſenſes, LASCELLES—and I now loſe them again at the recollection of what followed theſe reflections.

[141] LUCIA DE GREY herſelf appeared. She came tottering from her apartment, with a countenance, which, although ever lovely, denoted infinite emotion.

Oh Mr. CARLISLE, ſaid ſhe, lifting up both her hands, what is doing above in the library?

Doing, my dear Miſs DE GREY, replied I, (as we walked into the garden, whither ſhe was going to air) you frighten me—why—what is doing?

Ceremony (ſaid ſhe, in the moſt faulter⯑ing voice) for what could my father ſo loudly repeat the word ceremony, Mr. CARLISLE?

When was that, my dear Miſs DE GREY? Your DEAR Miſs DE GREY, CLEMENT—ah! that—I beg pardon, [142] Madam—Habits are unconquerable—I beg pardon—I ſay, Miſs De Grey—

My God, Mr. CARLISLE!—I had no ſuch idea—no ſuch—How can you uſe me ſo, Mr. CARLISLE?

Madam?

Perverſeneſs!—I ſay, Mr. CARLISLE, I am not conſcious of any conduct, that— that—ſhould warrant—ſuch treatment— ſuch treatment, Mr. CARLISLE, as I— I—have received from—from—

Treatment, Miſs DE GREY—treatment— my—my—treatment have you received? what! ill treatment?—O haſten to tell me when, how, where, by whom—then ſee, my—my dear—dear—then, Ma⯑dem, I ſay, ſee if I will brook it!— Has Sir ANDREW, has Mr. Medway?— [143]but I aſk pardon, Madam, my zeal has hurried me into language which, as things are circumſtanced, muſt naturally offend you.

It does, indeed, Sir—It ſeems ſtudied to do more than offend me—to break my heart.

Your heart, Miſs DE GREY!—I have done—I ſhall—I, I—have done—I wiſh you—I wiſh you, very happy— Indeed I do—Upon—upon my ſoul, Madam, I do!—

Happy, Mr. CARLISLE!—oh bar⯑barous!—Give me leave to go in—I wiſh I were dead!—I have buſineſs up⯑ſtairs, Sir—Happy, happy—you wiſh me happy; and yet you talk in theſe ungenerous terms of one who—who [144]has been ſuch an old friend—oh, Mr. CARLISLE, how can you uſe me ſo?

Upon theſe words ſhe went again into the houſe in anger and agony inexpreſ⯑ſible. But who could ever have ſug⯑geſted that her paſſion for that ſtrange man, ſhould have made her ſo ſenſible of the ſlighteſt impreſſion againſt his character? His very name, pronounced in a loud voice, ſets her on flame— An old friend—ungenerous to an old friend—To be ſure I have known Mr. MEDWAY ſome time—I have—But why do I argue upon the ſubject?—Every moment makes my diſappointment more manifeſt—Why then am I perplexing my heart with conſtant attempts to ex⯑plain what, if I was not wilfully blinded, is as clear as the light of Heaven? The only wiſe part—the only poſſible part for me now to act, is, directly to [145] withdraw. Perhaps the morrow may compleat my miſery. Mr. DE GREY is now, even now, adjuſting the ceremony— The very ring is before me. Were I to ſtay longer, I ſhould not be able to anſwer either for my truth or my ho⯑nour. Oh LUCIA—LUCIA—LUCIA!— I can no more.—

P. S.

The 200l. you ſhall have from my own hand.—Dear friend, farewell.

LETTER XCI. Mr. DE GREY to Mr. MEDWAY.

CONSCIOUS, dear Mr. MED⯑WAY, of no ſort of offence; but, on the contrary, feeling for you the ſame warmth of friendſhip as uſual, I am not a little ſurpriſed at the turn and colouring of the ſentiment in your laſt letter. I have now puzzled over it a great while, without being in any mea⯑ſure rewarded for my pains. To ſpeak the whole truth, I do not comprehend one ſentence of your whole favour. You ſeem to be agitated, and deſirous of performing certain ceremonies with peculiar privacy, at a very early hour of the morning: and yet I cannot con⯑ceive [147]of what nature thoſe ceremonies ſhould be; nor, if they are of an hoſtile complexion, can I ſuggeſt to myſelf, whence they ſhould happen. I beg you will be ſo friendly as to explain this matter. If you can point out to me any circumſtance that, to your eye, looks like an impropriety, no man will be more willing to be inſtructed how it may be amended. If it ſhould prove, that you are yourſelf miſtaken, no man will more chearfully impute it to that origin from whence many ſimilar errors have proceeded, namely, from exceſſive ſenſibility.

LETTER XCII. Mr. MEDWAY to Mr. DE GREY.

Ho! ho!—is that the caſe?— You don't chooſe to underſtand me— You deſire explanations—Certainly right— Nobody can blame you. Huſh—huſh. I am no flincher. Name every thing— place, weapons, ground, time, &c.— I love you, and therefore will give you every advantage over me in the world. But your daughter muſt not marry any body elſe, while there is upon the face [149]of the earth ſuch a man as the forgotten

P. S.

No noiſe.

LETTER XCIII. Sir ANDREW FLIGHT to Mr. LAS⯑CELLES.

I WILL add five hundred pieces to the 100l. you ſend for, GEORGE, if you will, without any delay—(mark the word any)—come down to Prudence Place, or, to a place of appointment nearer, and kill OLLY MEDWAY in ſingle combat: reaſons for this. Prompt payment. I ſhall only ſay his death is neceſſary, not only to my honour, but to my future well-being with my uncle, conſequently your ſubſiſtance is touched as well as that of

N. B.

The credit of his fall muſt be mine. Be at the ſign of the Duke's Head in the neighbouring village, Wedneſday evening. Knowing your exactneſs, I ſhall behave like an hero accordingly.

LETTER XCIV. Sir ANDREW FLIGHT to the Duke of DOWNDERDALE.

IT looks ſuſpicious to detain your meſſenger any longer—The great nicety of finiſhing a trifle of this na⯑ture is, to do it quietly. I am waiting my opportunity; and although, for your Grace's ſake, and the ſake of my family, my blood boils to be at him, yet, as I am a viſitor here, it will be decent to go prudently to work. I am glad you did me the juſtice to believe I would chaſtiſe the inſolent. If I ſee your Grace again on this ſide Heaven, it [153]will be with honour; if not, I ſhall meet you in elyſium. Your Lordſhip— I ſhould ſay—your Grace, will pardon my being a little jocular upon theſe ſort of circumſtances—They are the baga⯑telles of ſuch ſpirits as deſcend from ſuch a boſom as your Grace's to that of your happy

LETTER XCV. Sir ANDREW FLIGHT to Mr. MEDWAY.

AFTER a good deal of re⯑flection, I am not able (though I am one of the beſt tempered men in the world) to brook your daſtardly beha⯑viour—You called me coward—puppy— jackanapes, &c. beſides reflecting on my uncle, HIS GRACE of DOWNDERDALE— Now, I muſt inform you, there is a large ſpot of waſte, unfrequented, heath-ground at the back of the Duke's Head in the village. Twelve o'clock on Wedneſday night, (I mean Wedneſ⯑day next) let me have the pleaſure to [155]ſee you to anſwer theſe ſeveral charges. Meantime, to ſhew our real bravery, let's be exceeding good friends, and diſguiſe the deadly deſigns that are glowing in our heroic boſoms. I ſend this by Mr. GABRIEL HEWSON, who being a quiet worthy lad, ſhall be my friend in the field.

LETTER XCVI. Mr. MEDWAY's Anſwer.

HUSH—huſh. I begin to think better of you. No noiſe, little Sir ANDREW. I rather expect the chance of a pop or a pink to night; but, if my wound in that quarter ſhould not be mortal, you may depend upon ſhaking hands on Wedneſday with

LETTER XCVII. Captain CARLISLE to Mr. DE GREY.

I FEEL myſelf of late, my very dear friend, not quite ſo well in my health. I impute it to the recent alteration of climate. A little excur⯑ſion may poſſibly aſſiſt me, and there⯑fore I propoſe to ſet out to-morrow morning to my town houſe, and ſo back again.

But, as it is poſſible, my dear Sir, ſome changes may happen in your family before my return, I will, with your leave, joined to that of Mr. MEDWAY, (who I underſtand is now cloſeted with you) make bold to pay my parting [158] devoir—in your preſence—to Miſs DE GREY. Perhaps, Sir, it is decreed, that I am never more to ſalute her under that appellation. Nothing how⯑ever can happen that can violate the heart-felt eſteem, with which

LETTER XCVIII. Mr. LASCELLES to Mr. HEATHCOATE.

JOY, joy, HEATHCOATE—I—I I have recovered my loſt treaſure—re⯑covered her, though by compulſion—I caught her upon the look-out for Cap⯑tain CARLISLE; and as good luck would have it, ſcarce ten minutes before old limping GEOFERY, the Captain's fa⯑vourite footman, arrived with a letter from his maſter.—I am ready to leap out of my ſkin; though, as to the Lady herſelf, never did I ſee ſuch a dreadful alteration: her viſage pale, her eyes dim, her air languid—She ſcarce ſeems to have taken refreſhment ſince her [160]eſcape—Though my ſiſter kneels down and preſſes her, with tears, to eat, ſhe moſt obſtinately refuſes. What a violent woman! I gave it out to two fellows, whom I had upon the ſcout, that ſhe was a relation of mine, hurt in her ſenſes, who had broke from us. Her behaviour to them, on being ſeized, juſti⯑fied this; for, in getting her up ſtairs to her old apartment, ſhe took a little pocket-knife from her ſide, and aimed it with full force at one of the men's throats. I own I am ſorry to ſee her in this ſituation, though I had rather have her any way, than have her to look for. CARLISLE would certainly have taken vengeance. Now all may be well again. I am glad to ſee my ſiſter be⯑have ſo prudently to AUGUSTA. In a day or two I ſhall ſend you better news about her. If I ever again run the [161]riſque of gratifying my paſſion at the price of my policy, then execrate

P. S.

I am going down on Wedneſday to fight for five hundred pounds: OLLY MEDWAY is to be the mark. The money, you may be ſure, is to be for ANDREW'S FRIENDS. The Fame he may put into his pocket if he pleaſes. 'Tis to be within half a mile of Pru⯑dence Place—yet ſhall I not be ſeen. I ſhall fire my piſtol, and come away again directly. As to my exit, that is out of the queſtion. I am ſhot-free.

LETTER XCIX.

Captain CARLISLE to Mr. LASCELLES.

THE ſtrangeſt as well as the moſt ſudden alteration has happened in the affairs at Prudence Place that you can poſſibly imagine. Oh, my LAS⯑CELLES, I am lighter than the air—the dead weight is taken from my boſom— I have neither a thorn in my heart, nor a wrinkle on my brow. Though the path that led to this paradiſe was not without brambles that obſtructed, it pre⯑ſented, at laſt, the ſmootheſt, the moſt lawny, as well as the moſt roſy proſpect in the world.

[163] You ſhall hear.

Unable, any longer, to bear the in⯑creaſing perplexities of my ſituation, I wrote a letter of excuſe to Mr. DE GREY for a week's abſence, and went to pay my farewell reſpects to LUCIA.

Suggeſting what might be the ſtate of my feelings at the cloſe of ſuch an interview, I took care to have my car⯑riage waiting for me at the door the moment I left her apartment—nor did I even allow myſelf this pleaſure of entering her apartment at all, till I had pre-invited Mr. De Grey to be preſent, and even till I had apprized Mr. Med⯑way of the ſole purpoſe of my viſit.

I meant only to make—my heart ach—and withdraw.—Oh human na⯑ture!—

[164] Mr. DE GREY opened the door to me; he had ſcarce entered himſelf— Behind him ſtood—MEDWAY, making his ſalutations to LUCIA, who, upon ſeeing me advance, put on, as of late had been uſual, a ſort of anxiouſneſs, which I have been but too apt to con⯑ſtrue in my disfavour.

LUCIA DE GREY looked, as if ſhe thought it a ſtrange meeting.

"Pray ſit down, gentlemen," ſaid ſhe, in a fluttering manner—"Pray ſit down."

Her father took her by the hand. I was preparing to ſpeak on the ſubject of my departure—but could, for the ſoul of me, get no farther than—"I am come, Madam—I am come, Miſs DE GREY—I am—I am come"—

[165] "Very true, Captain," replied Mr. DE GREY, taking me up briſkly, "you are come extremely apropos—you are come juſt in time to be a witneſs to—"

Oh! LASCELLES, my perverting fancy caught at the only wrong con⯑ſtruction of the ſentiment, and I inter⯑rupted him by exclaiming,

"Excuſe me, my dear Mr. DE GREY—pray excuſe me—I would de⯑dicate not only my leiſure, but my life to the wiſhes of your family—but to be a witneſs—to be a witneſs, my good Sir, upon ſo intereſting an occaſion— is—is—is—indeed, I could not be of any ſervice."

"Service, Mr. CARLISLE," ſaid MEDWAY—"there is no ſervice in the caſe—the only ſervice you can be of in [166]promoting the deſign of our viſit to this young Lady, is to be a witneſs that I have had all the reaſon in the world to ſuppoſe I was beloved by her."

"Was it ever queſtioned, Mr. MED⯑WAY," ſaid I?

"Queſtioned,"—retorted Miſs DE GREY—"queſtioned, Mr. CARLISLE— beloved by me—Mr. MEDWAY beloved by me!"

"Yes, Madam, I,"—ſaid MEDWAY?

"Now then we come to the point," replied Mr. DE GREY—

"Perhaps theſe explanations," ſaid I, "may be improper before me—I certainly intrude—Family affairs are [167]ſacred—I beg permiſſion to withdraw— Had I known you were upon buſineſs of ſo much delicacy"—

"Stay, Mr. CARLISLE," anſwered LUCIA, with more firmneſs than is uſual to ſuch extreme delicacy as her's— "it is a juſtice you owe me to ſtay, Sir—With regard to you, Mr. MED⯑WAY, I beg to know upon what miſ⯑conſtruction you found the aſtoniſhing fact you charge me with?"

"Aſtoniſhing fact, Madam," rejoined MEDWAY—"Is it not clear? have I not fed my fond heart with this idea many months?—did you not always meet me with a ſmile?—have I not a thouſand times ſaid, that you was made to be the beſt wife in the world?—have I not been ready to murder any man that ſhould dare to look ſtedfaſtly at [168]you? Has not your father heard me de⯑clare, that I would loſe my blood in your ſervice?"

Here LUCIA lifted up her hands again.

"I grant all this, my dear MEDWAY," ſaid Mr. DE GREY, "but ſurely, this is no foundation for a paſſion. LUCIA ſmiles whenever ſhe meets any of her friends. It is a complacency that be⯑longs to her character—it belongs even to her face: her features are made for giving welcome to her father's friends— Such Mr. MEDWAY moſt certainly is."

"Lookee, Mr. DE GREY," replied MEDWAY—"huſh — huſh — no noiſe about this buſineſs—I am no talker. I have been intending to make your [169]daughter my wife a long while. I thought both you and ſhe knew plain enough my meaning, eſpecially as I was exceeding cautious leaſt it ſhould be known to any body elſe—which I deſpiſe. I took the affair for granted. It ſeems I am deceived. Nobody underſtood my meaning but myſelf—The buſineſs is eaſily brought to an iſſue. Here's the upſhot. Do you now, Mr. DE GREY, approve of my beginning more explicit overtures?"

"That queſtion," ſaid Mr. DE GREY, "is firſt to be ſubmitted to my daughter. You are a worthy man, and I here declare I have no objection to any gentleman, upon whom I have any ſolid reaſons to believe ſhe places her affections."

[170] "Give me your hand," cried MED⯑WAY; "you ſpeak fairly—I love honour better than life—life—it is MY heaven— Well, Miſs LUCIA, now is the time. Every thing reſts with you?"

Gueſs, if you can, LASCELLES, what I underwent at this moment! My heart was at my lips.

"Since it is incumbent on me to ſpeak," ſaid the beautiful trembler, "I muſt confeſs, that, though there is no man I more eſteem than Mr. MEDWAY, as a friend; yet, yet, in the light of— of—a lover, I—I—cannot ſay that— that—Pray be not diſpleaſed with me, if I ſay that—"

"Enough ſaid, enough ſaid—huſh— huſh—I'm only angry," ſaid MEDWAY, [171]"that you did not tell me ſo before; but—no noiſe—I ſee it was partly my own fault. Give me a buſs—you are a good girl—a bad one at a hint, tho'— huſh—huſh—you are a bad one at a hint. Give me your hand, Mr. DE GREY. I thought I was acting the right part—But I am too old, and too odd a fellow to die of diſappointment, ſo all I have farther to ſay on the ſubject is this; don't ſpeak of my affair below— Let us ſeparate—Let us go down a little after one another—Who's the wiſer? who's the wiſer?"

"Another moment, if you pleaſe," ſaid Mr. DE GREY, (riſing and ad⯑vancing to LUCIA, whom in the courſe of the converſation he had left)—"Since matters have gone thus far, and we are all friends together; tell me, LUCIA, [172]if you think there is any other perſon who may be going on in the ſame miſtake. If ſo, we may rectify it in time. Do you imagine any other, in this family, for inſtance, lays claim to your tenderneſs, my dear?"

My God, LASCELLES, what a queſtion!

"No, indeed, Sir," anſwered LUCIA, with a ſigh.

"Oh! yes," rejoined MEDWAY, "that bit of a Baronet, Sir ANDREW FLIGHT."

"Sir ANDREW FLIGHT!" cried ſhe haſtily—"the matter was not impro⯑bable with ſo worthy a man as Mr. MEDWAY, but ſurely Sir ANDREW FLIGHT could never—"

[173] "Madam," returned MEDWAY, "I was about to have jerked him into a fiſh pond upon that account. If you have ever any thing to ſay to ſuch a fellow as that, I'll never forgive you."

"Perhaps it may be in your power, Mr. CARLISLE," ſaid Mr. DE GREY, (coming round to me) "to help us to another upon the lover's liſt."

Think of my confuſion, LASCELLES! after great heſitation I ſpoke as follows, while LUCIA went firſt to one window then to the other, as if taking different views of the garden.

"I muſt own, Sir, it does not ſeem difficult for me to mention another of Miſs DE GREY's admirers. The dif⯑ficulty would be in finding a perſon of [174]her acquaintance who did not come under that character."

"Come, come, CARLISLE, no noiſe— no noiſe," ſaid MEDWAY, "you have yourſelf been her admirer any time theſe—"

Here LUCIA turned round, with a face blooming with a thouſand bluſhes.

"Mr. CARLISLE my admirer, Mr. MEDWAY?—"

"Yes, Miſs DE GREY, Mr. CAR⯑LISLE has, to my knowledge, been your admirer before he went to Italy. You may thank me—for now I ſee the whole train of my miſtake—that he has pined and grieved, and—"

[175] "For heaven's ſake, Mr. MEDWAY!" ſaid LUCIA.

"CLEMENT," ſaid Mr. DE GREY, "MEDWAY is too hard upon you: he has had a ſlight ſcratch of the paſſion himſelf, and he wants to make us be⯑lieve you have had a wound too. But come, Mr. MEDWAY, I have ſomething to ſhew you in the library—ſuch a fiſhing-pole as, perhaps, you never ſaw."

They both went out of the room hand-in-hand — LUCIA attempted to follow.

"And muſt you go then, Miſs DE GREY?" ſaid I.

"Go," replied ſhe, turning—"lord, why not, Mr. CARLISLE?—I am going to ſee the fiſhing-pole."

[176] "What a bleſſing I ſhould have deemed it, Miſs DE GREY, if this diſ⯑covery had been made before I went to Italy!"

"What did you ſay, Mr. CAR⯑LISLE?—Italy—Good God!—Has your Italian attractions then—"

"O LUCIA!—LUCIA! I can hold no longer—Too long—too long already hath a ſenſe of honour, and a religious regard to what I, all the time, thought your happineſs, kept me ſilent—for this I bleed—for this I was in deſpair— for this too it was that I was again pre⯑paring to depart—But—truth requires no longer ſacrifice. My feelings may now again ſhew themſelves—Again may I adore thoſe charming eyes—again— You are not angry with me, LUCIA?"

[177] "Angry with you—CLEMENT?"

"Dear, generous LUCIA DE GREY— This hand muſt bear the impreſſion of my gratitude."

"Pſhaw—nonſenſe—how can you, CARLISLE? but you were departing— whither would you go, CARLISLE?"

"I had forgot that my chaiſe is at the door, LUCIA?"

"And muſt you go then, CLEMENT?"

"Go, my adorable LUCIA! yes I muſt go this moment—I muſt go as faſt as my feet can carry me, to—order my horſes to be put into Mr. DE GREY's ſtable."

[178] "How ſoon you men alter your minds, Clement."

"Ah, LUCIA! LUCIA! I am now poſſeſſing one of the happieſt moments of my life."

"I am myſelf not miſerable, CAR⯑LISLE—and — and — and ſo take my hand, and—"

"Do with it what I pleaſe!—"

For the firſt time ſince my return, I not only kiſſed that, LASCELLES, but raviſhed a rapture upon her roſy lip. Here is an end of my converſation-letter.

I ſhall not come to town—my horſes are turned to graſs—Love is likely to allow them a long feaſt of paſturage— I cannot tell you how light I feel at the [179]heart—But let me not in my ecſtaſy forget my friend! The caſh, which I deſigned to bring myſelf, I now remit a draft for. I beg you will ever continue to command, on all ſorts of occaſion, the ſervices of

LETTER C. Mr. LASCELLES to Mr. HEATHCOATE.

A MISERY, and a misfor⯑tune more extreme than before, hath fallen upon me—The Marquis is come— The Marchioneſs is every thing but ab⯑ſolutely diſtracted—My ſiſter is over⯑whelmed in tears! I am plunging in the abyſs of deſpair. My whole family is in ruins.

A violent thundering at my door laſt night, and almoſt towards the zenith of it, announced the impatience of ſome⯑body who had authority to diſturb us.

[181] Ah! HEATHCOATE, conſcious guilt at that moment emaſculated my uſual hardihood; I felt my heart convulſ⯑ing in my boſom, and the ſhameful drops of fear were upon my brow. Flying then from my bed, wrapt up only in a robe de chambre, I charged my ſervants to deny me—gave my ſiſter the like injunction, and then ſtole, with in⯑glorious terror, into a kind of lumber⯑room at the top of the houſe, that I might eſcape even the voice of my ac⯑cuſer. To this precaution, probably, am I indebted for my life—Who, HEATHCOATE, can expect to conquer the man whom he has wronged? For money, I am mercenary enough to fight, but with the weight of crimes upon the heart, one's intrepidity hath no room to play.

[182] The knocking being for ſome time repeated, and every repetition with more vehemence, admittance was at length given.

Oh theſe high-ſpirited foreigners! No ſooner was he entered, than he de⯑manded, in a tone of implicit com⯑mand, his violated wife. He did not, it ſeems, wait any reply. He did not wait even long enough for obedience. In diſregard of every thing that looked like ceremony, he flew up ſtairs—ruſhed from one room to another; and found at laſt the object of his ſearch. I heard the ſhriek of the Marchioneſs's amaze⯑ment, even to the remoteſt corner of my hiding hole. Barbarous man! aban⯑doned woman! re-echoed thro' the cave. I was witneſs to the clamourous denun⯑ciation [183]of death upon CARLISLE and myſelf. I was witneſs that the Marquis was in poſſeſſion of CARLISLE's addreſs— the name of DE GREY, and even of LUCIA, were articulated with curſes of vengeance—With execrations, ſtill ſtronger, was all future connexion with the Marchioneſs renounced; and he ruſhed down the ſtair-caſe at laſt, ſwear⯑ing never more to cloſe his eyes till his revenge, as far as it could be had in this world (that was his expreſſion) was compleat.

Since his departure, I have crept from my ſanctuary, and tried, but not with⯑out tremor, to gain admittance to the apartment of AUGUSTA. She has drawn a triple bolt acroſs the door— She will not ſpeak—My ſiſter is on the [184]bed of ſickneſs. O TRUTH! what a DEITY art THOU?—thy ſmile might chace away deſpair. But what are theſe reflections to the puſillanimous and falſe

LETTER CI. From the Marquis of N. to Miſs DE GREY.

DO a ſtranger the honour to deliver the incloſed (after you have yourſelf read it) to the greateſt and moſt accompliſhed villain upon earth. I take this mode of getting my letter to his hand, that you, whom I pre⯑ſume to be young and innocent, may, if not too late, eſcape the wrongs that are heaped upon the head of

LETTER CII. Miſs DE GREY to Miſs LASCELLES.

AT length, my dear Miſs LASCELLES, the long line of myſteries is unravelled. Yes, my friend, the cauſe of your poor LUCIA's anxiety is now no longer problematical. Alas! it is made but too manifeſt! So there IS an Italian attachment I find after all! the warm heart of Captain CARLISLE could not, it ſeems, remain inſenſible of beauty, blooming under ſo bright a ſun. Nay, his paſſion, to do him juſtice, is of the moſt faſhionable kind. A wife has been his object: to give him greater eclat—the wife of his friend—

[189] Oh, Miſs LASCELLES, I have not patience to go on—Oh that I could find—that I could but have a ſingle glance of this all-accompliſhed Marchio⯑neſs of N—! That is his dulcinea— She muſt be very handſome—ſhe muſt, certainly, ſurpaſs all the ladies on this ſide the line—Heavens, Miſs LAS⯑CELLES, what an angel ſhe muſt be!— I muſt be a—but why do I talk of ſuch a deformity as myſelf! The ſuperior charms of the Marchioneſs—Oh, Miſs LASCELLES, that I could ſee her!

But from whom do you ſuppoſe I received this illuſtrious intelligence?— even from the injured huſband himſelf. The letter of the Marquis is at this minute before me. My eye, even now, fixes upon that part of the epiſtle where—

[190] Oh, Miſs LASCELLES, however me⯑rited the vengeance which I now per⯑ceive hanging over the head of CAR⯑LISLE, his life is ſtill precious to me, and I muſt make an effort at leaſt to prevent the miſchief—I thought him, my friend, the very Tutor of Truth, inſtead of which, I behold him the Preceptor of Infamy—yet—for his life—let it be preſerved, that he may mend it.

What meaſure ſhall I take? There is no time for choice or deliberation— a few hours only are between Captain CARLISLE and Death! — Death! — Death!—Oh, Miſs LASCELLES, I am diſtracted!

LETTER CIII. Captain CARLISLE to G. LASCELLES, Eſquire.

(Sent previous to his knowledge of the Marquis's arrival.)

SUCH is my joy ſince this happy alteration in the poſture of af⯑fairs at Prudence Place, my LASCELLES, that it is impoſſible for me to leave it again till the lovelieſt of women is firmly and irrevocably mine. I have fixed in my mind Saturday next for that bleſſed change in my condition; againſt which time I could wiſh to preſent the lovely LUCIA DE GREY with certain little elegancies that might ſhew my attention, though they can never add any thing [192]to the graces of her perſon. Do you then, my friend, be my agent upon this occaſion. Let your taſte be con⯑ſulted, and give mine the credit of it. I incloſe you an order for five thouſand pounds, and I recommend you by a line to a perſon who hath a better mecha⯑nical knowledge, than you or I, of the true water, and intrinſic excellence of diamonds. This buſineſs muſt be done immediately, and you are not to forget, that in doing it, you oblige LUCIA DE GREY, at the time you oblige

LETTER CIV. Miſs LUCIA DE GREY to Miſs LAS⯑CELLES.

WHO, CAROLINE, can ſay unto miſery, thus far ſhalt thou go and no farther? I am more compleatly a wretch than ever.

Soon after I had ſent away my laſt, CARLISLE came to pay me the compli⯑ments of the day. He paid them with the beſt diſſembled tenderneſs you ever ſaw. He congratulated his heart upon the return of its tranquillity—He took my hand, and carried it with a zeal [194]which any woman might have taken for real, to his lips. He even talked, with blooming cheeks, upon the day of marriage: he pretended that he ſuffered unutterable things by delay. He ſaid, he ſhould never be happy till I was his. He abſolutely carried the cruel joke ſo far as to aſſert, he had commiſſioned your brother to purchaſe decorations for the joyful day!

This ſeemed a proper opportunity to draw up the curtain, and diſcover the firſt ſcene of his farce. Oh what a dialogue!

"I think, Mr. CARLISLE, you wrote ſome letters to my father from the houſe of a Marquis of N. during your reſidence at Rome?"

[195] "I did, Madam—I did, my dear LUCIA."

"You ſpoke, I think, occaſionally, of the Marchioneſs his Lady?"

"I did. She is a charming woman. Except LUCIA DE GREY, I never ſaw a lovelier."

"'Pſhaw, your exception is a flat⯑tery. Is ſhe ſenſible?"

"She is, beyond imagination."

"You were upon very good terms, no doubt?"

"The beſt in the world. I have ſat the whole evening converſing with her upon ſubjects even of ſcience."

[196] "A learned Lady then!"

"Rather accompliſhed than learned: ſhe wants, however, that gentleneſs which diſtinguiſhes the lovely LUCIA DE GREY."

"You left her, certainly, with regret?"

"Had it not been for LUCIA DE GREY, whom I fondly expected to ſee, it might have been ſo."

"Is ſhe ſtill at Rome, Captain CAR⯑LISLE?"

"I fancy not, LUCIA. The Mar⯑quis viſits in Rome, but his home is Paris. Though the Marchioneſs her⯑ſelf is a native of England, and I had the pleaſure to revive her acquaintance [197]with her own language ſo much, that ſhe now ſpeaks it as fluently as the French and Italian."

"Thoſe were agreeable tete-a-tetes. Pray did ſhe never expreſs any deſire to ſee her native country?"

"Oh often—almoſt every hour."

"Was it not incumbent on your politeneſs, CLEMENT, to offer them a—"

"I did; but the Marquis was obliged to take a journey to the interior part of Italy."

"The Marchioneſs accompanied him him, no doubt?"

[198] "No, ſhe was ill at that time with a cold, and did not go with the Marquis."

"I proteſt I ſhould not have been ſurprized if ſhe had, in ſuch an ab⯑ſence, played truant, and come over to her native country with you, CLE⯑MENT?"

"With me—LUCIA—come over with me—Why that, you know, would have been—a—a—"

"Like a woman of ſpirit, that is all. I dare ſay now, CLEMENT, if you would but confeſs, this has been the caſe."

"How can you think ſo?—what reaſon in nature have you—to—to—?

[199] "Why, not much reaſon, indeed; but a billet, which I received this morn⯑ing, mentions a Lady that, in ſome degree, allowing for the alteration, as Mr. HENRY HEWSON ſays, anſwers the deſcription of the Marchioneſs."

"May I—may I beg permiſſion to peruſe your billet, LUCIA?—Is it from—"

"'Tis from a quite new correſpon⯑dent; and, by-the-by, there is a ſmall incloſure for you. Here are both."

I gave him, Miſs LASCELLES, the Marquis's letter.

"It is very true, Miſs DE GREY," ſaid he, without any emotion, after reading them, "that the Marchioneſs is at preſent under my protection; and [200]it is true alſo that ſhe came to England, though not with me, very ſoon after me."

"Is it? then the Marquis is not angry without cauſe?"

"It is a painful circumſtance to re⯑late, my dear LUCIA, though there is no guilt on either ſide. You will ex⯑cuſe me on the ſubject. I beg you will, for a few hours, keep the matter from Mr. DE GREY, and all the reſt of the family. I ſhall certainly wait upon the Marquis, and accommodate every thing. She is ſtill worthy of his affection."

Did you ever, CAROLINE, ſee guilt confeſſed, carried with ſo high a hand? He is ſo habituated, I ſuppoſe, to crimes of this nature, in his Italian connexions, that he thinks nothing of it. 'Tis, in [201]his notion, I dare ſay, an innocent free⯑dom, and not ſeduction. Was there ever ſo compoſed a libertine? He has juſt made his bow, without any other ſort of diſorder, and walked off.—Let him fight, CAROLINE! let him fall—I hate the ſight of him—I—I—I— oh, my God, my God, what a wretch I am!

LETTER CV. From the Same to the Same.

AH, CAROLINE, CAROLINE! I renounced the barbarous reflection— I ſhuddered at the horrid idea of CLE⯑MENT CARLISLE's death. This mo⯑ment have I ſent the incloſed to that ungenerous man. I wait the iſſue with anguiſh inexpreſſible.

Adieu, Adieu. [203]

LETTER CVI. From the Same to the Same.

HE will go, Miſs LAS⯑CELLES—He talks with firmneſs and the cooleſt fortitude of his innocence. He even accuſes me of an unkind ſuſpicion. He hath that philoſophy of aſſurance, if I may ſo call it, to con⯑front conviction. Yet, I am cheared at the idea—Ah! if it ſhould indeed be poſſible for his avowed innocence to ap⯑pear—if it ſhould indeed be poſſible—

Alas! it is not poſſible. Is ſhe not under his protection? Is ſhe not the handſomeſt woman in Italy? Is not [206]her huſband at hand to take vengeance on the ſeducer?—

But yet, who knows what ſoftening circumſtances may at length turn out, on the ſide of Mr. CARLISLE—In the mean time he may, perhaps, fall a victim to appearances—Oh, what agony beſets me on either ſide!—Why, CA⯑ROLINE, do you not write to the wretched

LETTER CVII. From the Same to the Same.

IT ſtrikes ten o'clock—We have juſt riſen from ſupper. CARLISLE did the honours of the table (my fa⯑ther chooſing to ſup in his room) with as much grace and compoſure as ever. He was neither more dejected nor elated than uſual; and he behaved to me, as if an upbraiding ſentiment had never paſt between us. He was dreſſed in his new regimentals—His Colonel's com⯑miſſion is come down. I think I never ſaw him look ſo lovely—He ſays it ſeems awkward to be called Colonel.

[208] Surely he muſt—he muſt be innocent, and if he is—O, Heavens! he is gone out of his room: I heard his door ſhut—Excuſe me, CAROLINE, I muſt not loſe ſight of him. If he goes, I have a foreboding that he will fall— What then remains for your

P. S.

I dare not acquaint my father.

LETTER CVIII. Mr LASCELLES to Mr. HEATHCOATE.

THE obſtinate Marchioneſs hath rejected all nouriſhment till this day, with a pertinacious violence and reſolution peculiarly her own. I was alarmed even for her life, and her death would, at this conjuncture of affairs, be the moſt unſeaſonable thing that could poſſibly happen. This apprehenſion is removed by the receipt of the incloſed billet—You will there ſee the terms upon which ſhe requeſted CARLISLE's direction. You will ſee too that it [210]would have been impolitic in me, under ſuch circumſtances (and eſpecially as ſhe muſt be too feeble to ſtir abroad), to ſtand out with her. Beſides this, I have her under guard; the truſty MA⯑RYANNE will not ſuffer a ſecond eſcape. The Marchioneſs ſeems much more compoſed. She does not beat her beautiful boſom; ſhe does not loudly lament her fate as before: the maid is this moment paſſing my room, in her way to the apartment of my poor ſick CAROLINE, with aſſurances of AU⯑GUSTA's tranquillity—Thus far, there⯑fore, there is a treaty betwixt me and agony. But this is only guarding againſt the enemy in one quarter, while one is more open to his attack in another. The Marquis is certainly hovering about—Perhaps he is gone down with the ſword of Italiant-taught revenge [211]even to Prudence Place; upon that ſup⯑poſition the utmoſt confuſion, if not, the moſt complicated death ſucceeds: upon that ſuppoſition too, I am not ſafe in this houſe a moment. I know not what to do! let me think a little.

LETTER CIX. Mr. LASCELLES to Mr. HEATHCOATE.

LET no man deſpair, HEATH⯑COATE; let him rather put his truſt in this maxim of the ſong, ‘The wretch of to-day may be happy to-morrow.’ Bleſſed be the hand of the poſtman, and may he ever travel through the winter night in ſecurity, for bringing me ſo many cordials. Oh, HEATH⯑COATE, how infinitely are our pains and pleaſures dependent upon half a ſheet of paper, made legible by ſo in⯑ſignificant a thing as a gooſe's feather! ‘Heav'n firſt taught letters for ſome wretch's aid.’ [215]But I have not time for either ſenti⯑ment or poetry. Would you believe it, my friend? all is yet quiet at Prudence Place. CARLISLE's affair with his LU⯑CIA goes on ſmoothly, and he has ab⯑ſolutely incloſed me an order for five thouſand pounds to—to—to—what do you think?—even to purchaſe jewels for the day of marriage. Could I poſ⯑ſibly have a greater proof of nothing having yet happened reſpecting the Marquis?—But on the other hand, this general quietus cannot much longer be expected. We ſhall certainly ſoon have a freſh alarm: the preſent calm I take to be only one of thoſe which ſucceeds one tempeſt, and foretells another. Take my word for it, the clouds are again collecting, and will again break, per⯑haps with more fury than ever—This then is the moment to ſtrike ſome maſter⯑ſtroke—This [216]is the time to—to—ſoft! let me again think a little.

In Continuation.

Te Deum, my friend, Te Deum! it is found—it is found!—You and I are in curſed ſituations. We have abſolutely elbowed ourſelves out of every thing. Our very liberty is become precarious; but our friendſhip has been as firm, as our conduct has been cautious. We have won and loſt together. At pre⯑ſent fortune is kind, and hath put into our hands five thouſand trumps. A curſe upon character, while we have theſe golden honours. Now then, my friend, now while the odd trick is ours, let us repair all by one lucky hit. My ſiſter has a morſel of independency, enough for the ſubſiſtance of ſuch a [217]character—The Marchioneſs will, either by Heaven, or by her huſband, be ſoon provided for: CARLISLE is rich enough to loſe a ſum of 5000l.—We are poor enough to find it acceptable—You un⯑derſtand me. All is ſtill in my houſe— I am going to ſlip on a riding-dreſs— I ſhall deſire to ſee you in the ſame ſitu⯑ation exactly at—

Peace—peace! by Heaven, HEATH⯑COATE, it is not yet too late to improve our winning cards four-fold. It is not too late to obſerve my appointment with Sir ANDREW. I am ſure four horſes will carry me to the edge of the vil⯑lage, at leaſt an hour before the ap⯑pointment: in half that time I will contrive a ſecret parly with Sir ANDREW, and make with him ſuch terms of ſight⯑ing, as ſhall not only purſe-draw, but draft-draw him. Here is one of the [218]tribe of Benjamin, who will give me ſolid monies for his flimſy paper, HEATHCOATE. Theſe preliminaries being ſettled, he will naturally leave me in expectation of the battle-loving MEDWAY; and in that moment, my friend, will I—but huſh, as MEDWAY ſays, no noiſe—Leave every thing to me. Be ready. I ſhall put this letter into the office, where I take chaiſe, and, if occaſion ſees fit, ſhall diſpatch others upon the road, or even by eſpecial meſ⯑ſengers, for you know how I act in a plot. Adieu—I ſhall preſs this with my ſeal and be gone—Adieu—I could not help liſtening at AUGUSTA's door—all quiet there—CAROLINE almoſt ſnores—MA⯑RYANNE winks in her wicker chair—I have ſtript the houſe. It is a mere ſhell, ſo now I will leave it—again

Adieu.

LETTER CX. The Marchioneſs of N*** to Signora — at Rome.

BE it ſufficient apology to you for my late ſilence, that I tell you I have been a priſoner till within this hour, without the privilege of getting a letter to the poſt. Such is the con⯑ſequence of following the fortunes of the man you love. But on this ſubject I can ſpeak no more. My ſtrength is almoſt gone, and yet I am ſetting out for a journey—The horſes are putting to the carriage. It is not to Rome. It is not to Paris—No, Signora, it is to the retreat of Captain CARLISLE. Yes, my VIOLA, I have at length obtained [220]his addreſs, his real addreſs, and I am going at full ſpeed to make uſe of it—Be not ſtartled, my friend—I ſet out with no hoſtile deſign.—My violent wiſhes for revenge are all compoſed now their object is in my power—In my power, VIOLA? oh, Heavens, CAR⯑LISLE is in the Marquis's power—Even now perhaps there may be an horrid in⯑terview—My blood runs cold at the thought — Oh that the horſes were ready!—They are—they are! — The poſtilion opens to me the door—I will take the unfiniſhed letter in my pocket— I will pay double—double, VIOLA; I will pay an hundred fold for my ſpeed— the life—the precious life of Carliſle is in danger—I am gone—

In Continuation.

There is five minutes ſtop to change horſes—the other poor faithful crea⯑tures [221]are panting before me—I take up a very bad pen to tell you, that, though I am now travelling in the night, and that a dark one, I travel as a man, and am not without arms. Join with me, VIOLA, to bleſs the name of MARYANNE—To a poor creature ſo called am I indebted for at leaſt the chance of ſaving the lovelieſt of men— the chance! oh, my God, is it then reduced to a chance?—to a bare pro⯑bability? I would ſooner have every other work of nature annihilated, than that the leaſt miſery ſhould happen to CLEMENT CARLISLE—Ah! Signora, that the Marquis of N. had been ſuch a man!—I am ſummoned—the letter muſt not yet be ſent away—Adieu.

[222] In Continution.

We are changing again—but I am always ſomewhat the later, as there is, it ſeems, a gentleman travelling with equal ſpeed, the ſame road, and he foreſtalls the ſwifteſt horſes. Perhaps, Signora, it is the Marquis—Perhaps every turn of his carriage-wheels pre⯑cipitates the fate of my CARLISLE— oh horror—horror!—oh that the horſes had wings inſtead of feet! — Thank heaven they look fleeter than my laſt— They are pawing, and champing the bit proudly before me—I ſhed tears of joy at the ſymptom—I move onwards—

In Continution.

Ah! Signora—Signora, I am agi⯑tated by ten thouſand fears—The per⯑ſon, [223]who is going ſo furiouſly before me, proves to be LASCELLES—The maid who releaſed me from my priſon⯑chamber told me he was gone a different road—What can be the meaning of this?—I have all along deſcribed the per⯑ſon of the Marquis, but have received no account that anſwers—Perhaps he may be yet tracing his enemy, as he calls him, through the ſtreets of Lon⯑don, and I may ſtill be ſo happy as to preſerve him—Oh, VIOLA! what a charming thought!

The pen and ink is with me in the chaiſe—You muſt diſpenſe with a hand⯑writing ſcarcely legible—

I keep at proper diſtance from the carriage of LASCELLES—I have bribed [224]my poſtilion into implicit obedience— Money ſeems to do every thing in this country—

Oh Heavens, VIOLA! we are in the middle of the laſt ſtage—LASCELLES increaſes his pace—How ſhall I obtain an interview with CARLISLE? Shall I drive directly to the houſe and require an audience? Shall I carry to him ter⯑ror in my look, and inſiſt upon being heard?

Ah, no, Signora—Let me not, now that all my unhappy enthuſiaſm for re⯑venge is over—let me not interrupt the ſcheme of joy that is carrying on be⯑twixt him and a worthy woman—Why, poor innocent! ſhould her paſſion be deſtroyed by mine?—Her's is regular— [225]chaſte, correct, conſiſtent—She never intentionally claſhed with the unfortunate Marchioneſs of N * * *

No, VIOLA, I will never diſturb the gentle boſom of another woman, whom I know to be guiltleſs—Let them be happy, Signora—Let them be happy— I ſhall be in my grave.

I have come to a reſolution, VIOLA! I will diſcharge my carriage before I enter the town, and then wrapping myſelf up in my coat, walk on, till I enquire out ſome inn or open houſe— There will I write my fears, and ſend them to Mr. CARLISLE. If his anſwer mentions his ſafety, and his intention to remain ſo, I will then return to—ah, whither, Signora—I have no houſe— no fortune—no huſband—no friend—

[226] And ſhall I depart without even ſeeing him?—Hard—a very hard trial for me, VIOLA! oh, what feelings oppreſs me!— No matter—no matter—My fatal love has already endangered his precious life, and if I can now ſave him, I will be content to ſuffer.

LASCELLES paid off his chaiſe before me—We ſtopt within a quarter of a mile of the village—I ſaw him deſcend— he walk'd briſkly on—I haſtened to diſcharge my account—ſaw both the carriages return homeward, and pre⯑pared to follow Mr. LASCELLES—I will follow his ſteps preciſely, unleſs they lead directly to Mr. CARLISLE, and delicacy ſhall prevail, though the ſacri⯑fice were to kill me.

[227] Ha! the poſtman blows his horn— he paſſes me—he takes my packet, tho' his bags are ſealed—I pay for his civi⯑lity—Upon the chance of my letters getting to Rome, I make uſe of the wafer I have in my pocket, and ſend it away.

Oh!—Farewell.

LETTER CXI. Miſs DE GREY to Miſs LASCELLES.

HE is gone, Miſs LASCELLES, he is gone. I ſaw him move with the moſt reſerved ſteps towards the green lane that leads to the horrid ſcene of rencontre.

I am reſolved to purſue him, let the conſequence be what it will.

LETTER CXII. From the Same to the Same.

NEVER ſurely, Miſs LAS⯑CELLES, was any ſcene ſo complicated with horrors and ſurpriſes, as that to which I have juſt been a witneſs. I write now in the deepeſt diſtreſs, and write now in the deepeſt diſtreſs, and in a houſe of general mourning. In the firſt place, Miſs LASCELLES, your brother is no more—the fair but un⯑happy occaſion of his death is alſo near her end, and the huſband is almoſt diſtracted. Ah, my CAROLINE, how I tremble!

But it is neceſſary for me, however painful, to proceed to the minuteſt of this horrid buſineſs.

[230] I traced Mr. CARLISLE, unobſerved, till he came within view of the ſpot. I heard ſomebody advance from behind a tree. It was the Marquis of N ***. It was too late to diſcover myſelf, or to hope any thing from entreaties. They joined, and walked together. I went tremblingly behind. CARLISLE told the whole hiſtory of the unfortu⯑nate AUGUSTA. He attributed the whole to frolic: he proteſted that ſhe was ſtill under the moſt ſacred pro⯑tection at the houſe of Mr. LASCELLES in London. He pleaded a thouſand apologies — Pledged himſelf for her fidelity. The Marquis would ſcarce ſuffer him to finiſh a ſingle ſentence without interruption: he is the moſt headſtrong man in the world; he exe⯑crated CARLISLE as a ſeducer; he even reprobated him as a coward. He in⯑fiſted upon taking his life, if it was not [231]immediately defended. He ſtrode on⯑ward to meaſure the ground.

"A little farther on then, Sir," ſaid he to the Marquis, "this is not a pro⯑per place for our, in my opinion, very unneceſſary buſineſs. — Behind yonder houſe is a heath, the claſh of our weapons will not there be heard."

I was ready to expire, my deareſt Miſs LASCELLES, at every ſtep, and with very great difficulty eſcaped ob⯑ſervation.

"If it muſt be ſo, Sir," continued CARLISLE, "this is the ſpot."

At this moment, Miſs LASCELLES, we heard a confuſed murmur of voices. The ſounds came from the other ſide of a ſmall plantation of firs.

[232] "Stop, Sir," cried the Marquis— "no witneſſes—all fair play, if you pleaſe; I do not mean to aſſaſſinate you, Carliſle; nor ſhall you aſſaſſinate me."

They both went on the other ſide of the plantation—The moon ſhot forth her ray at the very inſtant of entering; and as if Providence deſigned it ſo, her beams were beyond compariſon bright— Oh earth and heaven, what a ſcene was opened upon us from removing this curtain of darkneſs!

In one part we beheld the perſons of Mr. MEDWAY and Mr. LASCELLES, as it proved to be, ſtanding upon the de⯑fenſive. In another ſtood the figure of a ſtripling leaning penſively againſt a fir, as if he were unengaged in the combat, yet choſe to be a ſpectator. At a ſmall [233]diſtance (yet not ſufficiently near to be diſtinguiſhed for the perſons they really were) cluſtered another groupe, as if they wiſhed rather to ſee, than to be ſeen.

"Confuſion," ſaid MEDWAY, "we are diſcovered. If I knew by whom, I would annihilate him—Ha!" continued he, looking in the face of his antago⯑niſt, "by Heaven, this is not Sir ANDREW FLIGHT."

"I am his friend, Sir," ſaid the other, "and I chooſe to fight for him— Curſe on the moon-beams!"—

"Good God," cried CARLISLE, by this time come near enough to recog⯑nize him: "Is it my friend LASCELLES, whom I behold?"

[234] "Carliſle!" exclaimed Mr. LAS⯑CELLES—"Is it you?"

"Come, Sir," ſaid the Marquis eagerly, "no trifling — my time is precious."

CARLISLE drew his ſword.

"Oh, oh; huſh — huſh" — ſaid MEDWAY, "ſoftly—if that's the caſe— no noiſe: we are all come upon the ſame errand, I find. Advance then, every man his bird, and there's an end of it. As to Sir ANDREW, I will chaſtiſe him for himſelf, and in the mean time, as you think fit to repreſent him, I will chaſtiſe you for meddling in the quarrels of a fool—Come on, Sir."

He fired his piſtol in a moment: Mr. LASCELLES exchanged the ſalu⯑tation—They [235]were preparing again— The Marquis and CARLISLE began to parry.

Mr. LASCELLES ſeeing this, eagerly threw down his piſtol:

"Stop, ſtop, for Heaven's ſake ſtop," ſaid he to the Marquis—"touch not—lift not your arm againſt CAR⯑LISLE, I charge you—Here, Sir—here into this boſom direct your vengeance— 'Tis I, Marquis, I have been the cauſe of all your misfortune."

There was no time for expoſtulation: Mr. LASCELLES caught the ſword from the hand of CARLISLE, and inſiſted upon firſt engaging with the Marquis.

CARLISLE was without arms. MED⯑WAY haſtened to arm him. The Mar⯑quis [236]ruſhed upon him, without regard⯑ing LASCELLES.

LASCELLES again threw himſelf be⯑fore CARLISLE, and even puſhed vi⯑gorouſly at the Marquis. He was at length provoked to begin with your brother, my dear Miſs LASCELLES The very firſt thruſt of the Marquis was fatal, for the weapon paſſed thro' the ſide of Mr. LASCELLES into his heart. The Marquis received a wound alſo in exchange—

Your brother had ſcarce fallen, be⯑fore the ſtripling, whom the other ob⯑jects had prevented from more notice (and who had, indeed, retired farther off upon ſeeing us) now came forward in a feeble manner, and fell upon the ground almoſt at the feet of the Mar⯑quis.

[237] "Deſiſt, deſiſt," ſaid the poor thing, in the moſt piercing tone in the world— "deſiſt from farther altercation—Here lies, at the point of all her wiſhes, the unhappy cauſe of—"

The ſentence was left unfiniſhed, for the ſpeaker of it fainted away.

Oh, Miſs LASCELLES, it was the Marchioneſs of N *** in diſguiſe— She had raiſed her own beautiful arm againſt her own charming boſom. The point of a ſmall ſword was ſtill ſticking there.

I ran to her relief.

The Marquis ſtood fixed in horror, but ſtill looked ſullen.

[238] MEDWAY was gone.

CARLISLE was agonized by the moſt divided attention.

The Marchioneſs appeared to be ex⯑piring—She requeſted to be carried to LASCELLES, who was in the ſame ſituation—

It is too hard a taſk for me, Miſs LASCELLES, to recount to you the dreadful particulars of this pathetic ſcene. It is incumbent upon me, how⯑ever, to obſerve, that ſuch circum⯑ſtances appeared on the part of your brother by his own dying confeſſion, that, as it is impoſſible for his life to have been happy, you will the leſs la⯑ment him. You, however, my dear Miſs LASCELLES, he cleared from every im⯑putation that might, in conſequence of [239]theſe diſcoveries, have been thrown upon you—He confeſſed his error—he bathed the lovely hand of poor AUGUSTA with his laſt tears. He received her forgiveneſs—As for the Marchioneſs herſelf—Oh, Miſs LASCELLES—words can give you no idea of her ſituation.

She was tremblingly ſenſible to every thing—She looked tenderly at me, and gave my hand to CARLISLE.

She gave it as ſhe lay bleeding be⯑fore us—We conveyed her to Prudence Place. Her huſband is not even yet convinced of his cruelties, yet ſhe kiſſed his hand—She wondered not, ſhe ſaid, at CARLISLE's preference.

"Superior beauty added to ſuperior virtue," ſaid ſhe, taking my hand, "might well conquer."

[240] Ah, CAROLINE! how I felt this flat⯑tery—It went through my very heart— My father wept over her—I never ſaw a houſe of ſo much miſery—Poor CAR⯑LISLE'S condition was more touching than the reſt—He execrates himſelf as the innocent cauſe of all—The Mar⯑quis and he are now together—The Marquis ſeems not to regard his wound, which is deeper than we imagined— yet he is not ſo tender as he ſhould be to AUGUSTA. Your brother is laid on CARLISLE'S bed—I ſaw him, a little while ſince, take his lifeleſs hand gently, and turn away weeping.

"Poor fellow," ſaid he, afterwards, to me, "the beauty of the temptation was great—his love of the dice may well account for all the reſt. I loved him much—Let his failings excite no [241]other terror than that of making us the wiſer for his example.

Here, my CAROLINE, is a proſpect darkened—Do not believe I can rejoice under ſuch circumſtances—Your bro⯑ther's corpſe will be—Oh, CAROLINE, theſe are hard ſubjects—I muſt reſign them to a firmer hand than that of the trembling

LETTER CXIII. Mr. MEDWAY to Sir ANDROW FLIGHT.

THO' death hath been but too buſy in this houſe within theſe few hours, I cannot bear to have a trick put upon me without puniſhing the tricker. You impoſed upon me a ſtranger, whom I might have ſent to the ſhades, with⯑out any right ſo to do. But you are yet in the land of the living, and I inſiſt upon juſtice. You ſent a challenge with your own hand. If you do not meet me this night, by the way of huſh, [243]without any noiſe, I will cane a coward all the way from Prudence Place to the Duke of Downderdale's.

Huſh—you comprehend me.

LETTER CXIV. Mr. DE GREY to Miſs LASCELLES.

THE tears that flowed from the eyes of LUCIA, as ſhe bade the ſer⯑vant carry a letter with your addreſs to the poſt, convince me, how ſincerely ſhe joins me in deploring the unhappy circumſtances of Mr. LASCELLES'S death. Yet, what conſolation can, in theſe caſes, be offered to you? Notwithſtand⯑ing your brother's miſtakes in other re⯑ſpects, his fraternal affection might be very unblemiſhed: if ſo, you will na⯑turally [245]caſt a veil of oblivion over ſuch parts of his character as were concealed from you and his other friends, and you muſt lament that part of the misfortune which deprives you of a tender relation. LUCIA'S ſociety, however, may aſſiſt your ſenſe, and ſmooth your path to that acquieſcence which muſt be ob⯑tained. Come therefore, dear Madam, amongſt us: or rather, prepare your⯑ſelf for ſuch a journey. It is not, me⯑thinks, adviſeable to be here till after the preſent week. Mr. LASCELLES, with his dying breath, bequeathed his remains to CLEMENT CARLISLE. He requeſted that the legacy might be ac⯑cepted as a teſtimony of Mr. CARLISLE'S forgiveneſs. He will perform his duty to your ſatisfaction.

Our ſituation is too painful at this criſis for me to proceed. But let it [246]be conſidered, for indeed the poet is right,

LETTER CXV. From Miſs DE GREY to Miſs LAS⯑CELLES.

WHAT a peculiarity of diſ⯑poſition marks the Marquis of N***! Though his wound, which he received from your brother, is become more alarming, he inſiſted upon being per⯑mitted to go into the apartment of the poor languiſhing AUGUSTA at a very unſeaſonable hour of the laſt night. CARLISLE diſſuaded him from this; but ſoon after he again renewed the ſubject, and was admitted.

[248] He ſhut to the door, and ſpoke to his Lady in a very ungentle manner. We were going to expoſtulate with him upon the impropriety of this conduct, when he came out of the room, and told us, the Marchioneſs would be well enough to depart ſoon—He did not ſtay for any reply to this ſtrange intelli⯑gence, but ran down ſtairs into the ſaloon, and from thence into the ſtable. He inſiſted upon his horſe, on which, under pretence of taking the air, tho' he was ſcarce able to ſit, he rode away at full ſpeed. He diſturbed us, to enjoy this frolic, in the middle of the night; and he has not been heard of ſince. Surely there never lived ſo ſingular a character.

Alas! the Marchioneſs is by no means in the recovering way the Marquis re⯑preſented her. Though her wound was [249]more promiſing at the laſt dreſſing, her fever is rather increaſed than abated. Yet ſhe has never ſpoken diſreſpectfully of this ſtrange huſband ſince her illneſs. She ſeemed much relieved, however, at the news of his being gone. "Then," ſays ſhe, "I ſhall die in peace: he will not come again to abuſe me."

How pathetically, my dear Miſs LAS⯑CELLES, am I concerned for the life of this lovely woman!—Do not believe I counterfeit: I ſpeak ſincerely. Her conduct has a larger apology in the treatment of ſo barbarous a huſband. —Pray Heaven! ſhe may recover.

Since I wrote this ſentence, I have been at her bed-ſide, and ſhe cried out—"Oh, Miſs DE GREY, how good you are?—Violent as I have been—for which I know you will forgive me— [250]had I known Mr. CARLISLE'S LUCIA before, I am convinced my veneration for her would have cured me! If I wiſh to recover, Madam, it is only to ſhew you my gratitude: indeed it is!"

Oh, CAROLINE, that ſhe may live, even though the Marquis is unworthy of her, is the prayer of

LETTER CXVI. Mr. MEDWAY to Mr. TOWNSEND.

HERE'S pretty news for you! A raſcally Lord refuſes to give me ſa⯑tisfaction, and a villainous Baronet has writ me a challenge, and run away with⯑out keeping his appointment. He wanted, moreover, to have bilk'd me by a repreſentative, one LASCELLES, who is killed by another hand, juſt as he was going to attack me for a ſum of money, with a deſign to ſend me to the ſhades, and make off with the price of killing me. There have, alſo, ſeveral other ſtrange things happened in this family of late. There is a wounded Marquis gone juſt now bleed⯑ing [252]away: and his wife is upon her, as I think, death-bed. For this laſt mat⯑ter I am much concerned, as ſhe is, even now, a moſt lovely young creature, and I hate, of all things, that young handſome women ſhould die; though the Marquis, her huſband, has no worthy quality belonging to him but his courage. I chooſe to give up my pretenſions to LUCIA. I chooſe to give her to CAR⯑LISLE, becauſe ſhe loves him, I find, better than me. I chooſe to alter my will in her favour. All theſe points are ſo many touches of my humour. But as to this Baronet, I muſt hunt him every where on this ſide Heaven, till I have him upon his knees. He made his eſcape ingloriouſly this morning, and indeed lurked about the houſe like a ſcout with a pale face, ever ſince the death of LASCELLES, his bravado. I will either pink him, or humble him, [253]TOWNSEND, were he to take refuge under the hoop-petticoat of his aunt DOWNDERDALE. I will not be tricked— Huſh—no noiſe. My honour muſt be ſatisfied another way; the opportunity is at hand. I would not die with a debt upon my ſword for the world. Huſh—

LETTER CXVII. From the Same to Mr. GABRIEL HEW⯑SON.

YOU ſome time ago brought a letter of aſſignation from Sir A. F. who is gone off without either drawing his ſword, or firing his piſtol. Which of theſe do you chooſe? He being gone, the laws of honour require (in my idea) that you ſhould repreſent him—I muſt therefore have a ſhot, or a ſtroke at you—Huſh.

LETTER CXVIII. From the ſame to T. TOWNSEND, Eſq.

SURELY, TOWNSEND, it is fated for me to be peſtered with raſcals! I expected ſatisfaction from the cowardly ſecond of the vile Sir A. F. and, behold you, I had no ſooner in⯑timated my deſign, than he took to his heels alſo, and ſends me the ſorry ex⯑cuſe I incloſe to you.

But, by Heaven, I will have them both on their knees yet—Huſh.

LETTER CXIX. Mr. MEDWAY to the Duke of DOWN⯑DERDALE.

YOUR nephew has run away. When I thought of giving him the meeting, I imagined him my equal— that is to ſay, I imagined him an honeſt man, who is a prince's equal. But, within theſe few minutes, I have found him very much my inferior, and below my ſword, by being—a villain; who not only hired a tool to fight for him, but had condeſcended to lay plots for the deſtruction of the ſex which he [260]ought to protect. This, therefore, is written to acquaint him, that I have, for the future, nothing to do with any part of him but his noſe, which I ſhall twiſt as nearly round as poſſible, when I ſee him. No noiſe. Let him keep his ſecret, and no greater harm will happen to him, from the ſupreme indig⯑nation of

LETTER CXX. Mr. MEDWAY to Mr. GABRIEL HEW⯑SON.

COLONEL CARLISLE and Mr. DE GREY have interceded with me to accept your apology; you may therefore go ſafely to bed in Sombre⯑Hedges, with Pliny Junior, although I have juſt heard you were bold enough to write a letter to Lucia upon a certain ſubject at a certain time—Huſh—you comprehend me. However, let that paſs. Read in a corner and keep at home for the future.

[262] You did me juſtice in ſuppoſing I would not take an affront from Socrates. By Heaven, I would not brook a wrong look from that Caeſar who penned his own commentaries—no, not from Mars himſelf. Never make a noiſe, but let Huſh be your motto.

LETTER CXXI. Miſs DE GREY to Miſs LASCELLES.

NOT a word yet from the unaccountable Marquis, although we wiſh very much to ſend him news of his wife's ſurpriſing change for the better. By the care of our excellent phyſician, and by her own previous happy ſtate of health, her wound is healed within a few days to every body's aſtoniſhment. Her candid behaviour to me has engaged not only my at⯑tention, but my tenderneſs. She ſays, ſhe loves Mr. CARLISLE now, juſt as much as ſhe ought to love an amiable [264]man who is to be the huſband of her protectreſs.

She never enquires after the Marquis.

I am ſummoned. Make yourſelf eaſy for Heaven's ſake, my CAROLINE— This requeſt is not more at the heart of your LUCIA, than at that of the beau⯑tiful Marchioneſs, who ſpeaks of you with a warmth of gratitude peculiar to her. Poor thing, I hope we ſhall nurſe her up yet.

LETTER CXXII. From the Same to the Same.

THE occaſion of my being ſo ſoon called away from my writing⯑deſk, while I was laſt addreſſing my very dear CAROLINE, was to be preſent at an interview betwixt my father and Mr. and Mrs. HEWSON.

They deſired a few minutes converſa⯑tion with me and Mr. DE GREY, in the library. They came hand-in-hand. They opened the deſign of their viſit immediately.

[266] "Maſter DE GREY," ſaid the huſ⯑band, "I am obliged to you for all favours, but I have had enough of your high life: ſo has HETT: we have ſeen men killed, women wounded, friends fighting, honeſt men's wives attempted to be 'bauched, and Lords taking pet without 'caſion. So in a few words, HETT and I have 'ſolved to go back, and live again at Skelter. As to fine breedin, we'l make that out as well as we can. Better be unp'lite, Maſter DE GREY, than 'plite enough to cut friend's throat, and 'bauch friend's wife: ſo ſer⯑vant, Maſter DE GREY, and God be with you."

My father applauded this reſolution, and without any more ceremony they parted.

[267] They are this minute actually on their way to Helter-Skelter-Hall.

The Marchioneſs continues to im⯑prove. But—ſoft—There is a ſervant juſt diſmounting from his horſe, whoſe ſides give ſmoaking teſtimony of the rider's expedition.

He is coming into the houſe—his look and ſpeed alarm me.

In Continuation.

Oh, Heaven, my CAROLINE, the Marquis of N * * * is no more. The meſſenger delivered a letter to the Marchioneſs which mentions his death. The letter is from a relation of his in [268]London, where he died—The wound being neglected, turned to a mortifi⯑cation, and diſpatched him in a few hours—This obſtinate man, it ſeems, ſhewed his reſentment even upon his death-bed, and bequeathed all his for⯑tune to a diſtant branch of his family— Not a ſingle guinea to his Lady—She read the letter with very little emotion, conſidering what is ſaid to be his na⯑tural violence. But ſhe reſolves to go directly to London, feeble as ſhe is, and pay him the laſt duties. She ha⯑zards the air too ſoon, but ſhe perſiſts. CARLISLE ſays, ſhe is deprived of every thing by this ſtroke, but a ſcanty jointure. I ventured to touch upon this. She frankly ſaid, in anſwer, that ſhe had ſufficient fortune in the loſs of a cruel, tyrannical huſband!

[269] In Continuation.

No intreaties can prevail upon the Marchioneſs to ſtay. She declares ſhe is well. Her fever is indeed gone, but the Doctor ſays, ſhe riſques a relapſe. She has paid to my father and me her parting civilities. They were terribly touching, CAROLINE. She ſuppreſſed a ſigh as ſhe gave her hand to CAR⯑LISLE; but ſhe recovered herſelf, and with incredible reſolution got into her chaiſe, accompanied by Mr. MEDWAY.

Pray come down to us immediately. With the different tranſitions from one affecting object to another, I am quite fatigued. I tremble for the Marchio⯑neſs—I feel for you—I am unhappy to think it ſhould be my fate to interfere [270]with the happineſs of another woman. Yet CLEMENT is too dear to be re⯑ſigned, and poor, frail human nature will prevail.

Haſten then to comfort the heart of

LETTER CXXIII. Miſs LASCELLES to Miſs DE GREY.

I WAVE all remarks upon the dark paſſages of our late correſpondence, my dear Miſs DE GREY; nor will I ad⯑mit any ſtrokes of the deeply-wounded heart in this letter, which is only to tell you, that I ſhall endeavour to be with you directly. I am ſtricken very hard, it is true, but I am ſtill

LETTER CXXIV. Sir ANDREW FLIGHT to Mr. HEATH⯑COATE.

I SUPPOSE you know the tranſ⯑actions of MEDWAY, LASCELLES, &c. &c. I am a ruined man—Uncle ba⯑niſhes me—MEDWAY threatens me— Have, however, received a laſt ſupply, as uncle calls it, with which I ſhall ſet off for Paris—I have crept here like a runaway — the laugh is againſt me— LASCELLES was a ſad dog—However, uncle may ſtill come round, and till he does, farewell to

LETTER CXXV.
Mr. HENRY HEWSON to Mr. GABRIEL.

WE have gotten again to the Hall, brother GAB—ſick to the ſouls of us to the p'lite thing. HETT, and I, never ſaw old Skelter look ſo well in our lives—What's better, the old moſs and ſtones have not been yet meddled with. Every thing was glad to ſee us come whame again—Dog Daſhgrove got grin into's feace, juſt as thof he was p'lite, and I thouft ſpaniel bitch would have loſt tail with wagging it at me. I took pointer out, and ha' [274]ſhotten 2 brace o'birds, half which I ſend you by carrier. HETT laſt night made ſillabub, and milk'd crumple-horn herſelf—What do you think of that? She may bleſs herſelf ſhe was not 'bauched, and you, that that ſon of a gun MED⯑WAY did not pounce you—There's doings indeed! A curſe on't, a man can neither keep's life nor wife 'mong your p'lite genii. So much for bettermoſt ſpecie. Afore I come away, I told Maſter DE GREY a bit of my mind. And atween ourſelves, GAB, why ſhould you and I go out of our way, to make fools of ourſelves? CARLISLE is, to be ſure, a good lad, but as for the reſt o' the pack, 'cept Maſter DE GREY—huſh— huſh, as MEDWAY ſays—Never ſtir, if HETT and I did not lie in clover laſt night. We ſnuggled together in old yellow bed upon farmer's ſheet of her [275]own working, and we got up better than if we had been ducked in dainty down of p'liter genii. l'th' morning, in came neighbour Carter, Tim Trad⯑dleditch, Gef. Geehup, and Walter Wake, and ga' the bells a bit of a gangle on the 'caſſion. Upon this, I tapt harveſt-beer, No. 11. left ſide of little cellar, where cyder us'd to ſtand, you know—Upon this, we 'vited neighbours wifes, and Abraham Amen, the clerk, and Davy Dipſtick, the 'ciſe⯑man, and made a day out—Sure as you're alive—for which God be thank'd— HETT and I told the whole ſtory—Ne⯑ver heard ſo much laugh at the frolic in your life—When I come to talk of giving hand at gutter-work, I thought old Amen would ha' gone into ſtericks —and when I talkt 'bout Lord BLES⯑SINGBOURNE's ſticking out hinder part, [276]"A'cod," cries Geff. Geehup, "an I had been behind un, I wou'd ha' lent un ſuch a ſiſſeraro, that his hinder part ſhould ha' remembered me till Candle⯑maſs."

But to make ſhort of the ſtory, after a deal more merriment, we cloſed the whole affair by giving boys a bunfire; and what do you think we did—? daſh my beſt buttons, if we did not ſend little black bag, toſſicums, florrididdles, and all into the fire. So here ends the affair of the bettermoſt ſpecie—If you take my advice, GAB, you'll do ſame. Come and make merry with us. As to our fortun: there is more ways than one to the wood. Let us help poor neighbours—Let us buy bit o' land of one's own—Let us ſet fatherleſs he or ſhe up in buſineſs—Let us put friendleſs [277]people in a way—In ſhort, let us do any thing but be p'lite and good for nothing. HETT ſays ſo too.

LETTER CXXVI. Sombre Hodges.
Mr. GABRIEL's Anſwer.

I PERFECTLY approximate to my beloved brother's laſt ſentiments. I ſee plainly that a quiet corner, and philoſophical ſoul are the beſt of bleſſ⯑ings. Helter-Skelter-Hall cannot be more dear to you, than Sombre Hedges are to him who is thy tenderly frater⯑nally affectionate friend. I gave an en⯑tertainment laſt night, without ſixpence expence, to better ſociety that ever were ſeen at Prudence-Place, if we except the Colonel, his guardian, and Miſs DE GREY. Who, thinketh my bro⯑ther, [279]was at my banquet? Even ſome of the greateſt men of all antiquity— Homer, Horace, Cicero, and Seneca— Such friends will I never more leave, unleſs it is to viſit my relations at Helter-Skelter-Hall.

I will ſuffer the ſacred duſt again to gather around my dwelling. I will again nurſe my frugal blaze, and trim my decent lamp—I will once more plant the penſive yew, the oak o'er⯑ſhadowing, and the willow grey— Penſive pleaſures ſhall again be mine, and thoſe, who love the buſtling of the world, ſhall not, if they are pinch'd, want a protector — Yes, HENRY — beloved HENRY—I am now refixed for life—My old woman ſhed a tear at my return—my cat rubb'd, fondling, her tabby ſides againſt me, and, if it had [280]been poſſible, my dog would have ſpoke my welcome.

Again are you addreſſed by the duſky gentleman of Sombre Hedges, who is reſolved to play no more the truant.

My bag (and other inſtruments of my folly) I ſhall not burn, but I have fixed it, in the deepeſt diſgrace, upon a peg op⯑poſite my ſtudy, that it may ever be ſaying, or ſeeming to ſay unto me— Oh GABRIEL, GABRIEL, be contented with thy own hair, and the beſt authors; though thou wert to be tempted by bags of gold inſtead of ſilk—

LETTER CXXVII. Mr. MEDWAY to Colonel CARLISLE.
(Dated two months after his departure from Prudence-Place.)

I HAVE been the conſtant companion of this charming widow ever ſince we left your houſe. There is ſomething about her that attaches me to her, but no circumſtance ſo much, as that ſhe has loſt her fortune, and buried the fellow, who deprived her of it, decently. I do not know how it is, [282]but ſhe has got a ſtronger hold of my heart than ever your LUCIA had. The plague of it is, I ſuſpect, ſhe ſtill likes you—yet I ſtruck a bold ſtroke yeſ⯑terday—

Mark it.

"Huſh, huſh, AUGUSTA," ſaid I, "it is not to be expected that OLLY MEDWAY ſhould pleaſe your eye, after ſuch a fine-formed fellow as CLEMENT CARLISLE, but he is engaged, you know—With reſpect to the Marquis, no noiſe, child, about him. He is not worth keeping terms of mourning with —I deſpiſe the black cuſtom of ſeem⯑ing to lament, when one ought to jump for joy—Now the caſe ſtands thus: Can you behave well enough to OLLY MEDWAY, not to call him at every [283]third word, CLEMENT CARLISLE? If you ſay you don't love the ſaid CLE⯑MENT, I ſhould hate you: but can you take for a huſband a man who loves him as much as you ought?"

"I believe, for his ſake, and Miſs De Grey's," replied ſhe, ſighing, "I could."

"But what do you ſigh for then?"

"P'ſhaw—will Mr. MEDWAY com⯑ply with my terms?"

"Name them."

"Will he reconduct me to the houſe of Signora —, at Italy?"

[284] "No noiſe—Shall I order a chaiſe to the door?"

"Yes."

"Huſh."

Damn it, CARLISLE, ſhe ſigh'd again. But what a poor reduced raſcal I muſt be! I like her well enough to take her any way.

"You muſt excuſe," ſaid ſhe, "now and then a ſigh—Even Miſs DE GREY did not frown at me for that."

Confuſion, CARLISLE, a tear, which I caught upon my lip, followed this [285]remark. But what's a more childiſh trick ſtill, the water came running from my eyes too.

Willing to get her a thouſand miles from Prudence-Place, I am going to order a chaiſe.

I know no more than you, what will be the reſult of it; but I will follow my humour, were it to lead me to the end of the earth and the water.

I received your two letters, but pray keep your money for other purpoſes— There is no occaſion to make the wo⯑man more uneaſy by your damned preſents.

[286] Her affairs are now mine: and whether ſhe is ever nearer to me than ſhe is now, no man ſhall dare to be her banker but

LETTER CXXVIII. From the Same to the Same.

WE are with Signora — AUGUSTA ſigh'd, for the firſt ſix hun⯑dred miles of the journey, every half hour—the reſt of the way, pretty well. —I have been with her to all her old friends—I have trotted after a fair face like a chit of nineteen—But ſhe does not ſigh above once a week—She ſuits my humour to a hair. I ſhall certainly have her in a ſhort time—at leaſt by the hand, and, if you don't interrupt me, perhaps by the heart.—Send word when you are married—That will be my cue. If you ever come to Rome, I will [288]move with the Marchioneſs further ſtill, and if you reſolve to purſue me, I will cut your throat. I did intend to give my money to your LUCIA, but I ſhall now give it to my AUGUSTA. Huſh— I'll follow my humour. Huſh—I am a man of few words; and the Marchio⯑neſs loves me the better for it. Unleſs you die, which I don't wiſh, I will never return to England. No—no— Colonel, let us be good friends at a diſtance. No noiſe.

LETTER CXXIX. Colonel CARLISLE to Mr. MEDWAY.

THEN all may again be well. Your letters charm me. AUGUSTA will every day become more ſenſible of MEDWAY's merit, and her good heart will be wholly his. What a load is now removing from LUCIA and your friend! Felicity ſeems once more to be flying towards Prudence-Place—Sir ANDREW FLIGHT has wiſely decamped: MEDWAY and the Marchioneſs are in the way I moſt wiſh them: the HEW⯑SONS [290]are got home—Miſs LASCELLES is ſo far compoſed to conſent to live with her LUCIA: and Mr. DE GREY is better than he has been for ſome time.

What then remains?

Ah, my friend, need you be told?

The greateſt bleſſing of your CLE⯑MENT's life remains.

To-morrow will LUCIA DE GREY be mine for ever!

You will not expect me to proceed?

What could I poſſibly ſay more? yes, my dear MEDWAY, I will venture to add farther this one ſentence.

[291] However hypocriſy may flouriſh for a time, even its happieſt moments are clouded, and Truth ſhall at laſt prevail.