And, with this provoking speech, she walked on.
In the greatest confusion I was quitting the arbour, when Lord Orville said, “Permit me to follow Mrs. Selwyn;—it is time to put an end to all impertinent conjectures; will you allow me to speak to her openly?”
I assented in silence, and he left me.
I then went to my own room, where I continued till I was summoned to dinner; after which, Mrs. Selwyn invited me to hers.
The moment she had shut the door, “Your Ladyship,” said she, “will, I hope, be seated.”
“Ma’am!” cried I, staring.
“O the sweet innocent! So you don’t know what I mean?—but, my dear, my sole view is to accustom you a little to your dignity elect, lest, when you are addressed by your title, you should look another way, from an apprehension of listening to a discourse not meant for you to hear.”
Having, in this manner, diverted herself with my confusion, till her raillery was almost exhausted, she congratulated me very seriously upon the partiality of Lord Orville, and painted to me, in the strongest terms, his disinterested desire of being married to me immediately. She had told him, she said, my whole story, and yet he was willing, nay eager, that our union should take place of any further application to my family. “Now, my dear,” continued she, “I advise you by all means to marry him directly; nothing can be more precarious than our success with Sir John; and the young men of this age are not to be trusted with too much time for deliberation, where their interests are concerned.”
“Good God, Madam,” cried I, “do you think I would hurry Lord Orville?”
“Well, do as you will,” said she, “luckily you have an excellent subject for Quixotism;—otherwise this delay might prove your ruin; but Lord Orville is almost as romantic as if he had been born and bred at Berry Hill.”
She then proposed, as no better expedient seemed likely to be suggested, that I should accompany her at once in her visit to the Hot Wells tomorrow morning.
The very idea made me tremble; yet she represented so strongly the necessity of pursuing this unhappy affair with spirit, or giving it totally up, that, wanting her force of argument, I was almost obliged to yield to her proposal.
In the evening we all walked in the garden; and Lord Orville, who never quitted my side, told me he had been listening to a tale, which though it had removed the perplexities that had so long tormented him, had penetrated him with sorrow and compassion. I acquainted him with Mrs. Selwyn’s plan for tomorrow, and confessed the extreme terror it gave me. He then, in a manner almost unanswerable, besought me to leave to him the conduct of the affair, by consenting to be his before an interview took place.
I could not but acknowledge my sense of his generosity; but I told him I was wholly dependent upon you; and that I was certain your opinion would be the same as mine; which was, that it would be highly improper I should dispose of myself forever, so very near the time which must finally decide by whose authority I ought to be guided. The subject of this dreaded meeting, with the thousand conjectures and apprehensions to which it gives birth, employed all our conversation then, as it has all my thoughts since.
Heaven only knows how I shall support myself, when the long expected—the wished—yet terrible moment arrives, that will prostrate me at the feet of the nearest, the most reverenced of all relations, whom my heart yearns to know, and longs to love!
Letter LXXVIII
Evelina in Continuation
.
I could not write yesterday, so violent was the agitation of my mind;—but I will not, now, lose a moment till I have hastened to my best friend an account of the transactions of a day I can never recollect without emotion.
Mrs. Selwyn determined upon sending no message, “Lest,” said she, “Sir John, fatigued with the very idea of my reproaches, should endeavour to avoid a meeting. He cannot but see who you are, whether he will do you justice or not.”
We went early, and in Mrs. Beaumont’s chariot; into which Lord Orville, uttering words of the kindest encouragement, handed us both.
My uneasiness, during the ride, was excessive; but, when we stopped at the door, I was almost senseless with terror! the meeting, at last, was not so dreadful as that moment! I believe I was carried into the house; but I scarce recollect what was done with me: however, I know we remained some time in the parlour before Mrs. Selwyn could send any message upstairs.
When I was somewhat recovered, I entreated her to let me return home, assuring her I felt myself quite unequal to supporting the interview.
“No,” said she; “you must stay now: your fears will but gain strength by delay; and we must not have such a shock as this repeated.” Then, turning to the servant, she sent up her name.
An answer was brought, that he was going out in great haste, but would attend her immediately. I turned so sick, that Mrs. Selwyn was apprehensive I should have fainted; and, opening a door which led to an inner apartment, she begged me to wait there till I was somewhat composed, and till she had prepared for my reception.
Glad of every moment’s reprieve, I willingly agreed to the proposal; and Mrs. Selwyn had but just time to shut me in, before her presence was necessary.
The voice of a father—Oh, dear and revered name!—which then, for the first time, struck my ears, affected me in a manner I cannot describe, though it was only employed in giving orders to a servant as he came downstairs.
Then, entering the parlour, I heard him say, “I am sorry, Madam, I made you wait; but I have an engagement which
