Evelina, Or, the History of a Young Lady's Entrance into the World

ETTER LXVI.

EVELINA IN CONTINUATION. Clifton, Sept. 24th.

THIS morning I came down stairs very early; and supposing that the
family would not assemble for some time, I strolled out, purposing
to take a long walk, in the manner I was wont to do at Berry Hill,
before breakfast: but I had scarce shut the garden-gate, before I
was met by a gentleman, who, immediately bowing to me, I recollected
to be the unhappy Mr. Macartney. Very much surprised, I courtsied,
and stopped till he came up to me. He was still in mourning, but
looked better than when I saw him last, though he had the same air
of melancholy which so much struck me at first sight of him.

Addressing me with the utmost respect, "I am happy, Madam," said he,
"to have met with you so soon. I came to Bristol but yesterday,
and have had no small difficulty in tracing you to Clifton."

"Did you know, then, of my being here?"

"I did, Madam; the sole motive of my journey was to see you. I have
been to Berry Hill, and there I had my intelligence, and, at the same
time, the unwelcome information of your ill health."

"Good God! Sir,-and can you possibly have taken so much trouble?"

"Trouble! O, Madam, could there be any, to return you, the moment I
had the power, my personal acknowledgments for your goodness?"

I then enquired after Madame Duval and the Snow-Hill family. He told
me they were all well, and that Madame Duval proposed soon returning
to Paris. When I congratulated him on looking better, "It is yourself,
Madam," said he, "you should congratulate; for to your humanity alone
it may now be owing that I exist at all." He then told me, that his
affairs were now in a less desperate situation; and that he hoped, by
the assistance of time and reason, to accommodate his mind to a more
cheerful submission to his fate. "The interest you so generously took
in my affliction," added he, "assures me you will not be displeased to
hear of my better fortune; I was therefore eager to acquaint you with
it." He then told me that his friend, the moment he had received his
letter, quitted Paris, and flew to give him his personal assistance and
consolation. With a heavy heart, he acknowledged, he accepted it; "but
yet," he added, "I have accepted it; and therefore, as bound equally
by duty and honour, my first step was to hasten to the benefactress
of my distress, and to return" (presenting me something in a paper)
"the only part of my obligations that can be returned; for the rest,
I have nothing but my gratitude to offer, and must always be contented
to consider myself her debtor."

I congratulated him most sincerely upon his dawning prosperity, but
begged he would not deprive me of the pleasure of being his friend;
and declined receiving the money, till his affairs were more settled.

While this point was in agitation, I heard Lord Orville's voice
inquiring of the gardener if he had seen me? I immediately opened the
garden gate; and his Lordship, advancing to me with quickness, said,
"Good God! Miss Anville, have you been out alone? Breakfast has been
ready some time, and I have been round the garden in search of you."

"Your Lordship has been very good," said I; "but I hope you have
not waited."

"Not waited!" repeated he, smiling: "Do you think we could sit down
quietly to breakfast, with the idea that you had run away from us? But
come," (offering to hand me) "if we do not return, they will suppose
I am run away too; and they very naturally may, as they know the
attraction of the magnet that draws me."

"I will come, my Lord," said I, rather embarrassed, "in two
minutes." Then, turning to Mr. Macartney, with yet more embarrassment,
I wished him good morning.

He advanced towards the garden, with the paper still in his hand.

"No, no," cried I, "some other time."

"May I then, Madam, have the honour of seeing you again?"

I did not dare take the liberty of inviting any body to the house
of Mrs. Beaumont, nor yet had I the presence of mind to make an
excuse; and, therefore, not knowing how to refuse him, I said,
"Perhaps you may be this way again to-morrow morning,-and I believe
I shall walk out before breakfast."

He bowed, and went away; while I, turning again to Lord Orville,
saw his countenance so much altered, that I was frightened at what I
had so hastily said. He did not again offer me his hand; but walked,
silent and slow, by my side. Good Heaven! thought I, what may he not
suppose from this adventure? May he not, by my desire of meeting
Mr. Macartney to-morrow, imagine it was by design I walked out to
meet him to-day? Tormented by this apprehension, I determined to
avail myself of the freedom which his behaviour, since I came hither,
has encouraged; and, since he would not ask any questions, begin
an explanation myself. I therefore slackened my pace to gain time;
and then said, "Was not your Lordship surprised to see me speaking
with a stranger?"

"A stranger?" repeated he; "is it possible that gentleman can be a
stranger to you?"

"No, my Lord," said I, stammering, "not to me -but only it might
look-he might seem-"

"No, believe me," said he, with a forced smile, "I could never suppose
Miss Anville would make an appointment with a stranger."

"An appointment, my Lord?" repeated I, colouring violently.

"Pardon me, Madam," answered he, "but I thought I had heard one."

I was so much confounded that I could not speak: yet, finding he walked
quietly on, I could not endure he should make his own interpretation
of my silence: and therefore, as soon as I recovered from my surprise,
I said, "Indeed, my Lord, you are much mistaken, Mr. Macartney had
particular business with me-and I could not-I knew not, how to refuse
seeing him;-but indeed, my Lord-I had not,-he had not,-" I stammered
so terribly that I could not go on.

"I am very sorry," said he, gravely, "that I have been so unfortunate
as to distress you; but I should not have followed you had I not
imagined you were merely walked out for the air."

"And so I was!" cried I, eagerly, "indeed, my Lord, I was! My meeting
with Mr. Macartney was quite accidental; and, if your Lordship thinks
there is any impropriety in my seeing him to-morrow, I am ready to
give up that intention."

"If I think!" said he, in a tone of surprise; "surely Miss Anville
cannot leave the arbitration of a point so delicate to one who is
ignorant of all the circumstances which attend it?"

"If," said I, "it was worth your Lordship's time to hear them,-you
should not be ignorant of the circumstances which attend it."

"The sweetness of Miss Anville's disposition," said he, in a softened
voice, "I have long admired; and the offer of a communication, which
does me so much honour, is too grateful to me not to be eagerly
caught at."

Just then Mrs. Selwyn opened the parlour window, and our conversation
ended. I was rallied upon my passion for solitary walking; but no
questions were asked me.

When breakfast was over, I hoped to have had some opportunity of
speaking with Lord Orville; but Lord Merton and Mr. Coverley came in,
and insisted up his opinion of the spot they had fixed upon for the
old women's race. The ladies declared they would be of the party;
and accordingly we all went.

The race is to be run in Mrs. Beaumont's garden; the two gentlemen
are as anxious, as if their joint lives depended upon it. They
have at length fixed upon objects; but have found great difficulty
in persuading them to practise running, in order to try their
strength. This grand affair is to be decided next Thursday.

When we returned to the house, the entrance of more company still
prevented my having any conversation with Lord Orville. I was
very much chagrined, as I knew he was engaged at the Hotwells in
the afternoon. Seeing, therefore, no probability of speaking to him
before the time of my meeting Mr. Macartney arrived, I determined that,
rather than risk his ill opinion, I would leave Mr. Macartney to his
own suggestions.

Yet, when I reflected upon his peculiar situation, his poverty, his
sadness, and, more than all the rest, the idea I knew he entertained
of what he calls his obligations to me, I could not resolve upon a
breach of promise, which might be attributed to causes, of all the
others the most offensive to one whom misfortune has made extremely
suspicious of slights and contempt.

After the most uneasy consideration, I at length determined upon
writing an excuse, which would, at once, save me from either meeting
or affronting him. I therefore begged Mrs. Selwyn's leave to send
her man to the Hotwells, which she instantly granted; and then I
wrote the following note:

"To Mr. Macartney.

"SIR,

"As it will not be in my power to walk out to-morrow morning,
I would
by no means give you the trouble of coming to Clifton. I hope,
however, to have the pleasure of seeing you before you quit
Bristol. I am, Sir, your obedient servant, "EVELINA ANVILLE."

I desired the servant to enquire at the pump-room where Mr. Macartney
lived, and returned to the parlour.

As soon as the company dispersed, the ladies retired to dress. I then,
unexpectedly, found myself alone with Lord Orville; who, the moment
I rose to follow Mrs. Selwyn, advanced to me, and said, "Will Miss
Anville pardon my impatience, if I remind her of the promise she was
so good as to make me this morning?"

I stopped, and would have returned to my seat; but before I had time,
the servants came to lay the cloth. He retreated, and went towards
the window; and, while I was considering in what manner to begin,
I could not help asking myself what right I had to communicate the
affairs of Mr. Macartney: and I doubted whether, to clear myself from
one act of imprudence, I had not committed another.

Distressed by this reflection, I thought it best to quit the room,
and give myself some time for consideration before I spoke; and
therefore, only saying I must hasten to dress, I ran up stairs,
rather abruptly I own; and so, I fear, Lord Orville must think. Yet
what could I do? Unused to the situations in which I find myself, and
embarrassed by the slightest difficulties, I seldom, till too late,
discover how I ought to act.

Just as we were all assembled to dinner, Mrs. Selwyn's man, coming
into the parlour, presented to me a letter, and said, "I can't find
out Mr. Macartney, Madam; but the post-office people will let you
know if they hear of him."

I was extremely ashamed of this public message; and, meeting the
eyes of Lord Orville, which were earnestly fixed on me, my confusion
redoubled, and I knew not which way to look. All dinner-time he was
as silent as myself; and the moment it was in my power I left the
table, and went to my own room. Mrs. Selwyn presently followed me;
and her questions obliged me to own almost all the particulars of
my acquaintance with Mr. Macartney, in order to excuse my writing to
him. She said it was a most romantic affair, and spoke her sentiments
with great severity; declaring that she had no doubt but he was an
adventurer and an impostor.

And now, my dear Sir, I am totally at a loss what I ought to do; the
more I reflect, the more sensible I am of the utter impropriety, nay,
treachery, of revealing the story, and publishing the misfortunes and
poverty of Mr. Macartney; who has an undoubted right to my secrecy and
discretion, and whose letter charges me to regard his communication as
sacred.-And yet, the appearance of mystery,-perhaps something worse,
which this affair must have to Lord Orville,-his seriousness,-and
the promise I have made him, are inducements scarce to be resisted
for trusting him with the openness he has reason to expect from me.

I am equally distressed, too, whether or not I should see Mr. Macartney
to-morrow morning.

Oh, Sir, could I now be enlightened by your counsel, from what anxiety
and perplexity should I be relieved!

But now,-I ought not to betray Mr. Macartney, and I will not forfeit
a confidence which would never have been reposed in me, but from
a reliance upon my honour, which I should blush to find myself
unworthy of. Desirous as I am of the good opinion of Lord Orville,
I will endeavour to act as if I was guided by your advice; and,
making it my sole aim to deserve it, leave to time and to fate my
success or disappointment.

Since I have formed this resolution, my mind is more at ease. But I
will not finish my letter till the affair is decided.

Sept. 25th.

I rose very early this morning; and, after a thousand different plans,
not being able to resolve upon giving poor Mr. Macartney leave to
suppose I neglected him, I thought it incumbent upon me to keep my
word, since he had not received my letter; I therefore determined
to make my own apologies, not to stay with him two minutes, and to
excuse myself from meeting him any more.

Yet, uncertain whether I was wrong or right, it was with fear
and trembling that I opened the garden-gate;-judge then, of my
feelings, when the first object I saw was Lord Orville!-he, too,
looked extremely disconcerted, and said, in a hesitating manner,
"Pardon me, Madam,-I did not intend,-I did not imagine you would
have been here so soon-or-or I would not have come."-And then, with
a hasty bow, he passed me, and proceeded to the garden.

I was scarce able to stand, so greatly did I feel myself shocked; but,
upon my saying, almost involuntarily, "Oh, my Lord!"-he turned back,
and, after a short pause, said, "Did you speak to me, Madam?"

I could not immediately answer; I seemed choaked, and was even forced
to support myself by the garden-gate.

Lord Orville, soon recovering his dignity, said, "I know not how
to apologize for being, just now, at this place;-and I cannot,
immediately-if ever -clear myself from the imputation of impertinent
curiosity, to which I fear you will attribute it: however, at
present, I will only intreat your pardon, without detaining you any
longer." Again he bowed, and left me.

For some moments I remained fixed to the same spot, and in the same
position, immoveable, as if I had been transformed to a stone. My first
impulse was to call him back, and instantly tell him the whole affair;
but I checked this desire, though I would have given the world to
have indulged it; something like pride aided what I thought due to
Mr. Macartney, and I determined not only to keep his secret, but to
delay any sort of explanation till Lord Orville should condescend to
request it.

Slowly he walked; and, before he entered the house, he looked back,
but hastily withdrew his eyes, upon finding I observed him.

Indeed, my dear Sir, you cannot easily imagine a situation more
uncomfortable than mine was at that time; to be suspected by Lord
Orville of any clandestine actions wounded my soul; I was too much
discomposed to wait for Mr. Macartney, nor in truth, could I endure to
have the design of my staying so well known. Yet I was so extremely
agitated, that I could hardly move; and I have reason to believe
Lord Orville, from the parlour-window, saw me tottering along; for,
before I had taken five steps, he came out, and, hastening to meet
me, said, "I fear you are not well; pray, allow me (offering his arm)
to assist you."

"No, my Lord," said I, with all the resolution I could assume; yet
I was affected by an attention, at that time so little expected,
and forced to turn away my head to conceal my emotion.

"You must," said he, with earnestness, "indeed you must,-I am sure
you are not well;-refuse me not the honour of assisting you;" and,
almost forcibly, he took my hand, and, drawing it under his arm,
obliged me to lean upon him. That I submitted was partly the effect of
surprise, at an earnestness so uncommon in Lord Orville, and, partly,
that I did not just then dare trust my voice to make any objection.

When we came to the house, he led me into the parlour, and to a
chair, and
begged to know if I would not have a glass of water.

"No, my Lord, I thank you," said I, "I am perfectly recovered;" and,
rising, I walked to the window, where, for some time, I pretended to
be occupied in looking at the garden.

Determined as I was to act honourably by Mr. Macartney, I yet most
anxiously wished to be restored to the good opinion of Lord Orville;
but his silence, and the thoughtfulness of his air, discouraged me
from speaking.

My situation soon grew disagreeable and embarrassing, and I resolved
to return to my chamber till breakfast was ready. To remain longer I
feared might seem asking for his enquiries; and I was sure it would
ill become me to be more eager to speak, than he was to hear.

Just as I reached the door, turning to me hastily, he said, "Are you
going, Miss Anville?"

"I am, my Lord," answered I; yet I stopped.

"Perhaps to return to-but I beg your pardon!" He spoke with a degree
of agitation that made me readily comprehend he meant to the garden;
and I instantly said, "To my own room, my Lord." And again I would have
gone; but, convinced by my answer that I understood him, I believe he
was sorry for the insinuation: he approached me with a very serious
air, though at the same time he forced a smile, and said, "I know
not what evil genius pursues me this morning, but I seem destined to
do or to say something I ought not: I am so much ashamed of myself,
that I can scarce solicit your forgiveness."

"My forgiveness! my Lord?" cried I, abashed, rather than elated by
his condescension; "surely you cannot-you are not serious?"

"Indeed, never more so! yet, if I may be my own interpreter, Miss
Anville's countenance pronounces my pardon."

"I know not, my Lord, how any one can pardon, who never has been
offended."

"You are very good; yet I could expect no less from a sweetness of
disposition which baffles all comparison: you will not think I am an
encroacher, and that I take advantage of your goodness, should I once
more remind you of the promise you vouchsafed me yesterday?"

"No, indeed; on the contrary I shall be very happy to acquit myself
in your Lordship's opinion."

"Acquittal you need not," said he, leading me again to the window;
"yet I
own my curiosity is strongly excited."

When I was seated, I found myself much at a loss what to say; yet,
after a short silence, assuming all the courage in my power, "Will you
not, my Lord," said I, "think me trifling and capricious, should I own
I have repented the promise I made, and should I entreat your Lordship
not to insist upon my strict performance of it?"-I spoke so hastily,
that I did not, at the time, consider the impropriety of what I said.

As he was entirely silent, and profoundly attentive, I continued to
speak without interruption.

"If your Lordship, by any other means, knew the circumstances attending
my acquaintance with Mr. Macartney, I am most sure you would yourself
disapprove my relating them. He is a gentleman, and has been very
unfortunate;-but I am not-I think,-at liberty to say more: yet I am
sure, if he knew your Lordship wished to hear any particulars of his
affairs, he would readily consent to my acknowledging them;-shall I,
my Lord, ask his permission?"

"His affairs!" repeated Lord Orville; "by no means, I have not the
least curiosity about them."

"I beg your Lordship's pardon,-but indeed I had understood the
contrary."

"Is it possible, Madam, you could suppose the affairs of an utter
stranger can excite my curiosity?"

The gravity and coldness with which he asked this question very
much abashed me. But Lord Orville is the most delicate of men! and,
presently recollecting himself, he added, "I mean not to speak with
indifference of any friend of yours,-far from it; any such will always
command my good wishes: yet I own I am rather disappointed; and though
I doubt not the justice of your reason, to which I implicitly submit,
you must not wonder, that, when upon the point of being honoured
with your confidence, I should feel the greatest regret at finding
it withdrawn."

Do you think, my dear sir, I did not, at that moment, require all my
resolution to guard me from frankly telling him whatever he wished
to hear? yet I rejoice that I did not; for, added to the actual wrong
I should have done, Lord Orville himself, when he had heard, would,
I am sure, have blamed me. Fortunately, this thought occurred to me;
an I said, "Your Lordship shall yourself be my judge; the promise
I made, though voluntary, was rash and inconsiderate; yet, had it
concerned myself, I would not have hesitated in fulfilling it; but
the gentleman, whose affairs I should be obliged to relate-"

"Pardon me," cried he, "for interrupting you; yet allow me to assure
you, I have not the slightest desire to be acquainted with his affairs,
further than what belongs to the motives which induced you yesterday
morning-" He stopped; but there was no occasion to say more.

"That, my Lord," cried I, "I will tell you honestly. Mr. Macartney
had some particular business with me, and I could not take the liberty
to ask him hither."

"And why not?-Mr. Beaumont, I am sure-"

"I could not, my Lord, think of intruding upon Mrs. Beaumont's
complaisance; and so, with the same hasty folly I promised your
Lordship, I much more rashly promised to meet him."

"And did you?"

"No, my Lord," said I, colouring, "I returned before he came."

Again, for some time, we were both silent; yet, unwilling to leave him
to reflections which could not but be to my disadvantage, I summoned
sufficient courage to say, "There is no young creature, my Lord,
who so greatly wants, or so earnestly wishes for, the advice and
assistance of her friends, as I do: I am new to the world, and unused
to acting for myself;-my intentions are never willfully blameable,
yet I err perpetually!-I have hitherto been blessed with the most
affectionate of friends, and, indeed, the ablest of men, to guide
and instruct me upon every occasion:-but he is too distant, now,
to be applied to at the moment I want his aid:-and here,-there is
not a human being whose counsel I can ask."

"Would to Heaven," cried he, with a countenance from which all coldness
and gravity were banished, and succeeded by the mildest benevolence,
"that I were worthy,-and capable,-of supplying the place of such a
friend to Miss Anville!"

"You do me but too much honour," said I, "yet I hope your Lordship's
candour,-perhaps I ought to say indulgence,-will make some allowance,
on account of my inexperience, for behaviour so inconsiderate:-May I,
my Lord, hope that you will?"

"May I," cried he, "hope that you will pardon the ill-grace with
which I have
submitted to my disappointment? And that you will permit me (kissing
my hand) thus to seal my peace?"

"Our peace, my Lord!" said I, with revived spirits.

"This, then," said he, again pressing it to his lips, "for our peace:
and now,-are we not friends?"

Just then the door opened, and I had only time to withdraw my hand,
before the ladies came in to breakfast.

I have been, all day, the happiest of human beings!-to be thus
reconciled to Lord Orville, and yet to adhere to my resolution,-what
could I wish for more?-he too has been very cheerful, and more
attentive, more obliging to me than ever. Yet Heaven forbid I should
again be in a similar situation, for I cannot express how much
uneasiness I have suffered from the fear of incurring his ill opinion.

But what will poor Mr. Macartney think of me? Happy as I am, I much
regret the necessity I have been under of disappointing him.

Adieu, my dearest Sir.