Though now at liberty to go, I had not the courage to leave him: for his evident distress excited all my compassion. And this was our situation, when Lady Louisa, Mr. Coverley, and Mrs. Beaumont entered the room.
“Sir Clement Willoughby,” said the latter, “I beg your pardon for making you wait so long, but—”
She had not time for another word; Sir Clement, too much disordered to know or care what he did, snatched up his hat, and, brushing hastily past her, flew downstairs, and out of the house.
And with him went my sincerest pity, though I earnestly hope I shall see him no more. But what, my dear Sir, am I to conclude from his strange speeches concerning the letter? Does it not seem as if he was himself the author of it? How else should he be so well acquainted with the contempt it merits? Neither do I know another human being who could serve any interest by such a deception. I remember, too, that just as I had given my own letter to the maid, Sir Clement came into the shop: probably he prevailed upon her, by some bribery, to give it to him; and afterwards, by the same means, to deliver to me an answer of his own writing. Indeed I can in no other manner account for this affair. Oh, Sir Clement, were you not yourself unhappy, I know not how I could pardon an artifice that has caused me so much uneasiness!
His abrupt departure occasioned a kind of general consternation.
“Very extraordinary behavior this!” cried Mrs. Beaumont.
“Egad,” said Mr. Coverley, “the baronet has a mind to tip us a touch of the heroics this morning!”
“I declare,” cried Miss Louisa, “I never saw anything so monstrous in my life! it’s quite abominable;—I fancy the man’s mad;—I’m sure he has given me a shocking fright!”
Soon after, Mrs. Selwyn came upstairs with Lord Merton. The former, advancing hastily to me, said, “Miss Anville, have you an almanac?”
“Me?—no, Madam.”
“Who has one, then?”
“Egad,” cried Mr. Coverley, “I never bought one in my life; it would make me quite melancholy to have such a timekeeper in my pocket. I would as soon walk all day before an hourglass.”
“You are in the right,” said Mrs. Selwyn, “not to watch time, lest you should be betrayed, unawares, into reflecting how you employ it.”
“Egad, Ma’am,” cried he, “if Time thought no more of me than I do of Time, I believe I should bid defiance, for one while, to old age and wrinkles; for deuce take me, if ever I think about it at all.”
“Pray, Mr. Coverley,” said Mrs. Selwyn, “why do you think it necessary to tell me this so often?”
“Often!” repeated he; “Egad, Madam, I don’t know why I said it now;—but I’m sure I can’t recollect that ever I owned as much before.”
“Owned it before!” cried she, “why, my dear Sir, you own it all day long; for every word, every look, every action proclaims it.”
I know not if he understood the full severity of her satire, but he only turned off with a laugh: and she then applied to Mr. Lovel, and asked if he had an almanac?
Mr. Lovel, who always looks alarmed when she addresses him, with some hesitation answered, “I assure you, Ma’am, I have no manner of antipathy to an almanac—none in the least—I assure you;—I dare say I have four or five.”
“Four or five!—pray, may I ask what use you make of so many?”
“Use!—really, Ma’am, as to that—I don’t make any particular use of them; but one must have them, to tell one the day of the month:—I’m sure, else I should never keep it in my head.”
“And does your time pass so smoothly unmarked, that, without an almanac, you could not distinguish one day from another?”
“Really, Ma’am,” cried he, colouring, “I don’t see anything so very particular in having a few almanacs; other people have them, I believe, as well as me.”
“Don’t be offended,” cried she, “I have but made a little digression. All I want to know is, the state of the moon;—for if it is at the full, I shall be saved a world of conjectures, and know at once to what cause to attribute the inconsistencies I have witnessed this morning. In the first place, I heard Lord Orville excuse himself from going out, because he had business of importance to transact at home;—yet have I seen him sauntering alone in the garden this half hour. Miss Anville, on the other hand, I invited to walk out with me; and, after seeking her everywhere round the house, I find her quietly seated in the drawing room. And, but a few minutes since, Sir Clement Willoughby, with even more than his usual politeness, told me he was come to spend the morning here;—when, just now, I met him flying downstairs, as if pursued by the Furies; and far from repeating his compliments, or making any excuse, he did not even answer a question I asked him, but rushed past me, with the rapidity of a thief from a bailiff!”
“I protest,” said Mrs. Beaumont, “I can’t think what he meant; such rudeness, from a man of any family, is quite incomprehensible.”
“My Lord,” cried Lady Louisa to Lord Merton, “do you know he did the same by me?—I was just going to ask him what was the matter; but he ran past me so quick, that I declare he quite dazzled my eyes. You can’t think, my Lord, how he frightened me; I dare say I look as pale—don’t I look very pale, my Lord?”
“Your Ladyship,” said Mr. Lovel, “so well becomes the lilies, that the roses might blush to see themselves so excelled.”
“Pray, Mr. Lovel,” said Mrs. Selwyn, “if the roses should blush, how would you find it out?”
“Egad,” cried Mr. Coverley, “I suppose they must blush, as the saying is, like a blue dog—for they are red already.”
“Prithee, Jack,” said Lord
