As I have already hinted, I had before agreed with him to impute secret love occasionally to Miss Howe, as the best means to invalidate all that might come from her in my disfavour.
Capt. Mr. Lovelace, but that I know your modesty, or you could give a reason—
Lovel. Looking down, and very modest—I can’t think so, Captain—but let us call another cause.
Every woman present could look me in the face, so bashful was I.
Capt. Well, but as to our present situation—only it mayn’t be proper—looking upon me, and round upon the women.
Lovel. O Captain, you may say anything before this company—only, Andrew, (to my new servant, who attended us at table), do you withdraw: this good girl (looking at the maidservant) will help us to all we want.
Away went Andrew: he wanted not his cue; and the maid seemed pleased at my honour’s preference of her.
Capt. As to our present situation, I say, Mr. Lovelace—why, Sir, we shall be all untwisted, let me tell you, if my friend Mr. John Harlowe were to know what that is. He would as much question the truth of your being married, as the rest of the family do.
Here the women perked up their ears; and were all silent attention.
Capt. I asked you before for particulars, Mr. Lovelace; but you declined giving them.—Indeed it may not be proper for me to be acquainted with them.—But I must own, that it is past my comprehension, that a wife can resent anything a husband can do (that is not a breach of the peace) so far as to think herself justified for eloping from him.
Lovel. Captain Tomlinson:—Sir—I do assure you, that I shall be offended—I shall be extremely concerned—if I hear that word eloping mentioned again—
Capt. Your nicety and your love, Sir, may make you take offence—but it is my way to call everything by its proper name, let who will be offended—
Thou canst not imagine, Belford, how brave and how independent the rascal looked.
Capt. When, young gentleman, you shall think proper to give us particulars, we will find a word for this rash act in so admirable a lady, that shall please you better.—You see, Sir, that being the representative of my dear friend Mr. John Harlowe, I speak as freely as I suppose he would do, if present. But you blush, Sir—I beg your pardon, Mr. Lovelace: it becomes not a modest man to pry into those secrets, which a modest man cannot reveal.
I did not blush, Jack; but denied not the compliment, and looked down: the women seemed delighted with my modesty: but the widow Bevis was more inclined to laugh at me than praise me for it.
Capt. Whatever be the cause of this step, (I will not again, Sir, call it elopement, since that harsh word wounds your tenderness), I cannot but express my surprise upon it, when I recollect the affectionate behaviour, to which I was witness between you, when I attended you last. Over-love, Sir, I think you once mention—but over-love (smiling) give me leave to say, Sir, it is an odd cause of quarrel—few ladies—
Lovel. Dear Captain!—And I tried to blush.
The women also tried; and being more used to it, succeeded better.—Mrs. Bevis indeed has a red-hot countenance, and always blushes.
Miss R. It signifies nothing to mince the matter: but the lady above as good as denies her marriage. You know, Sir, that she does; turning to me.
Capt. Denies her marriage! Heavens! how then have I imposed upon my dear friend Mr. John Harlowe!
Lovel. Poor dear!—But let not her veracity be called into question. She would not be guilty of a wilful untruth for the world.
Then I had all their praises again.
Lovel. Dear creature!—She thinks she has reason for her denial. You know, Mrs. Moore; you know, Miss Rawlins; what I owned to you above as my vow.
I looked down, and, as once before, turned round my diamond ring.
Mrs. Moore looked awry, and with a leer at Miss Rawlins, as to her partner in the hinted-at reference.
Miss Rawlins looked down as well as I; her eyelids half closed, as if mumbling a paternoster, meditating her snuffbox, the distance between her nose and chin lengthened by a close-shut mouth.
She put me in mind of the pious Mrs. Fetherstone at Oxford, whom I pointed out to thee once, among other grotesque figures, at St. Mary’s church, whither we went to take a view of her two sisters: her eyes shut, not daring to trust her heart with them open; and but just half-rearing her lids, to see who the next comer was; and falling them again, when her curiosity was satisfied.
The widow Bevis gazed, as if on the hunt for a secret.
The Captain looked archly, as if half in the possession of one.
Mrs. Moore at last broke the bashful silence. Mrs. Lovelace’s behaviour, she said, could be no otherwise so well accounted for, as by the ill offices of that Miss Howe; and by the severity of her relations; which might but too probably have affected her head a little at times: adding, that it was very generous in me to give way to the storm when it was up, rather than to exasperate at such a time.
But let me tell you, Sirs, said the widow Bevis, that is not what one husband in a thousand would have done.
I desired, that no part of this conversation might be hinted to my spouse
; and looked still more bashfully. Her great fault, I must own, was over-delicacy.
The Captain leered round him; and said, he believed he could guess from the hints I had given him in town (of my over-love) and from what had now passed, that we had not consummated our marriage.
O Jack! how sheepishly then looked, or
