The Conscious Lovers

letter for me this morning. Tom Why, sir, if he did ask me any questions, how could I help it? Bevil Jr. I don’t say you could, oaf! I am not questioning you, but him. What did he say to you? Tom Why, sir, when I came to his chambers, to be dressed for the lawyer’s part your honour was pleased to put me upon, he asked me if I had been at Mr. Sealand’s this morning? So I told him, sir, I often went thither⁠—because, sir, if I had not said that he might have thought there was something more in my going now than at another time. Bevil Jr. Very well!⁠—The fellow’s caution, I find, has given him this jealousy. Aside.⁠—Did he ask you no other questions? Tom Yes, sir; now I remember, as we came away in the hackney coach from Mr. Sealand’s, Tom, says he, as I came in to your master this morning, he bade you go for an answer to a letter he had sent. Pray did you bring him any? says he. Ah! says I, sir, your honour is pleased to joke with me; you have a mind to know whether I can keep a secret or no? Bevil Jr. And so, by showing him you could, you told him you had one? Tom Sir⁠—Confused. Bevil Jr. What mean actions does jealousy make a man stoop to! How poorly has he used art with a servant to make him betray his master!⁠—Well! and when did he give you this letter for me? Tom Sir, he writ it before he pulled off his lawyer’s gown, at his own chambers. Bevil Jr. Very well; and what did he say when you brought him my answer to it? Tom He looked a little out of humour, sir, and said it was very well. Bevil Jr. I knew he would be grave upon’t; wait without. Tom Hum! ’gad, I don’t like this; I am afraid we are all in the wrong box here. Exit Tom. Bevil Jr. I put on a serenity while my fellow was present; but I have never been more thoroughly disturbed. This hot man! to write me a challenge, on supposed artificial dealing, when I professed myself his friend! I can live contented without glory; but I cannot suffer shame. What’s to be done? But first let me consider Lucinda’s letter again. Reads.

“Sir,

“I hope it is consistent with the laws a woman ought to impose upon herself, to acknowledge that your manner of declining a treaty of marriage in our family, and desiring the refusal may come from me, has something more engaging in it than the courtship of him who, I fear, will fall to my lot, except your friend exerts himself for our common safety and happiness. I have reasons for desiring Mr. Myrtle may not know of this letter till hereafter, and am your most obliged humble servant,

“Lucinda Sealand.”

Well, but the postscript⁠—Reads.

“I won’t, upon second thoughts, hide anything from you. But my reason for concealing this is, that Mr. Myrtle has a jealousy in his temper which gives me some terrors; but my esteem for him inclines me to hope that only an ill effect which sometimes accompanies a tender love, and what may be cured by a careful and unblameable conduct.”

Thus has this lady made me her friend and confident, and put herself, in a kind, under my protection. I cannot tell him immediately the purport of her letter, except I could cure him of the violent and untractable passion of jealousy, and so serve him, and her, by disobeying her, in the article of secrecy, more than I should by complying with her directions.⁠—But then this duelling, which custom has imposed upon every man who would live with reputation and honour in the world⁠—how must I preserve myself from imputations there? He’ll, forsooth, call it or think it fear, if I explain without fighting.⁠—But his letter⁠—I’ll read it again⁠—

“Sir,

“You have used me basely in corresponding and carrying on a treaty where you told me you were indifferent. I have changed my sword since I saw you; which advertisement I thought proper to send you against the next meeting between you and the injured

“Charles Myrtle.”

Enter Tom. Tom Mr. Myrtle, sir. Would your honour please to see him? Bevil Jr. Why, you stupid creature! Let Mr. Myrtle wait at my lodgings! Show him up. Exit Tom. Well! I am resolved upon my carriage to him. He is in love, and in every circumstance of life a little distrustful, which I must allow for⁠—but here he is. Enter Tom, introducing Myrtle. Sir, I am extremely obliged to you for this honour.⁠—To Tom. But, sir, you, with your very discerning face, leave the room. Exit Tom. —Well, Mr. Myrtle, your commands with me? Myrtle The time, the place, our long acquaintance, and many other circumstances which affect me on this occasion, oblige me, without farther ceremony or conference, to desire you would not only, as you already have, acknowledge the receipt of my letter, but also comply with the request in it. I must have farther notice taken of my message than these half lines⁠—“I have yours,” “I shall be at home.” Bevil Jr. Sir, I own I have received a letter from you in a very unusual style; but as I design everything in this matter shall be your own action, your own seeking, I shall understand nothing but what you are pleased to confirm face to face, and I have already forgot the contents of your epistle. Myrtle This cool manner is very agreeable to the abuse you have already made of my simplicity and frankness; and I see your moderation tends to your own advantage and not mine⁠—to your own safety, not consideration of your friend. Bevil Jr. My own safety, Mr. Myrtle? Myrtle Your own safety, Mr. Bevil. Bevil Jr. Look you, Mr. Myrtle, there’s no disguising that I understand what you would be at; but, sir, you know I