He requested me to see him tomorrow; but I had not the folly to be again guilty of an indiscretion; which had already caused me so much uneasiness; and therefore I told him frankly, that it was not in my power at present to see him but by accident; and, to prevent his being offended, I hinted to him the reason I could not receive him as I wished to do.
When I had satisfied both him and myself upon this subject, I turned to Lord Orville, and saw, with concern, the gravity of his countenance. I would have spoken to him, but knew not how; I believe, however, he read my thoughts; for, in a little time, with a sort of serious smile, he said, “Does not Mr. Macartney complain of his disappointment?”
“Not much, my Lord.”
“And how have you appeased him?” Finding I hesitated what to answer, “Am I not your brother?” continued he, “and must I not enquire into your affairs?”
“Certainly, my Lord,” said I, laughing. “I only wish it were better worth your Lordship’s while.”
“Let me, then, make immediate use of my privilege. When shall you see Mr. Macartney again?”
“Indeed, my Lord, I can’t tell.”
“But—do you know that I shall not suffer my sister to make a private appointment?”
“Pray, my Lord,” cried I earnestly, “use that word no more! Indeed you shock me extremely.”
“That would I not do for the world,” cried he, “yet you know not how warmly, how deeply I am interested, not only in all your concerns, but in all your actions.”
This speech—the most particular one Lord Orville had ever made to me, ended our conversation at that time; for I was too much struck by it to make any answer.
Soon after, Mr. Macartney, in a low voice, entreated me not to deny him the gratification of returning the money. While he was speaking, the young lady I saw yesterday at the assembly, with the large party, entered the pump-room. Mr. Macartney turned as pale as death, his voice faultered, and he seemed not to know what he said. I was myself almost equally disturbed, by the crowd of confused ideas that occurred to me. Good Heaven! thought I, why should he be thus agitated?—is it possible this can be the young lady he loved?—
In a few minutes we quitted the pump-room; and, though I twice wished Mr. Macartney good morning, he was so absent he did not hear me.
We did not immediately return to Clifton, as Mrs. Selwyn had business at a pamphlet shop. While she was looking at some new poems, Lord Orville again asked me when I should see Mr. Macartney?
“Indeed, my Lord,” cried I, “I know not, but I would give the universe for a few moments’ conversation with him!” I spoke this with a simple sincerity, and was not aware of the force of my own words.
“The universe!” repeated he, “Good God, Miss Anville, do you say this to me?”
“I would say it,” returned I, “to anybody, my Lord.”
“I beg your pardon,” said he, in a voice that showed him ill pleased, “I am answered.”
“My Lord,” cried I, “you must not judge hardly of me. I spoke inadvertently; but if you knew the painful suspense I suffer at this moment, you would not be surprised at what I have said.”
“And would a meeting with Mr. Macartney relieve you from that suspense?”
“Yes, my Lord, two words might be sufficient.”
“Would to Heaven,” cried he, after a short pause, “that I were worthy to know their import!”
“Worthy, my Lord!—O, if that were all, your Lordship could ask nothing I should not be ready to answer! If I were but at liberty to speak, I should be proud of your Lordship’s enquiries: but, indeed, I am not—I have not any right to communicate the affairs of Mr. Macartney;—your Lordship cannot suppose I have.”
“I will own to you,” answered he, “I know not what to suppose; yet there seems a frankness even in your mystery—and such an air of openness in your countenance, that I am willing to hope—” He stopped a moment, and then added, “This meeting, you say, is essential to your repose?”
“I did not say that, my Lord; but yet I have the most important reasons for wishing to speak to him.”
He paused a few minutes; and then said, with warmth, “Yes, you shall speak to him!—I will myself assist you!—Miss Anville, I am sure, cannot form a wish against propriety: I will ask no questions, I will rely upon her own purity, and, uninformed, blindfold as I am, I will serve her with all my power!” And then he went into the shop, leaving me so strangely affected by his generous behaviour, that I almost wished to follow him with my thanks.
When Mrs. Selwyn had transacted her affairs, we returned home.
The moment dinner was over, Lord Orville went out, and did not come back till just as we were summoned to supper. This is the longest time he has spent from the house since I have been at Clifton; and you cannot imagine, my dear Sir, how much I missed him. I scarce knew before how infinitely I am indebted to him alone for the happiness I have enjoyed since I have been at Mrs. Beaumont’s.
As I generally go downstairs last, he came to me, the moment the ladies had passed by, and said, “Shall you be at home tomorrow morning?”
“I believe so, my Lord.”
“And will you then receive a visitor for me?”
“For you, my Lord?”
“Yes:—I have made acquaintance with Mr. Macartney, and he has promised to call upon me tomorrow about three o’clock.”
And then, taking my hand, he led me downstairs.
O, Sir!—was there ever such another man as Lord Orville?—Yes, one other now resides at Berry Hill!
This morning there has been a great
