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

ETTER LXXV.

EVELINA TO THE REV. MR. VILLARS. Clifton, Oct. 3rd.

THIS morning I saw from my window, that Lord Orville was walking in
the garden; but I would not go down stairs till breakfast was ready:
and then, he paid me his compliments almost as coldly as Lady Louisa
paid hers.

I took my usual place, and Mrs. Belmont, Lady Louisa, and Mrs. Selwyn,
entered into their usual conversation.-Not so your Evelina:
disregarded, silent, and melancholy, she sat like a cypher, whom,
to nobody belonging, by nobody was noticed.

Ill brooking such a situation, and unable to suport the neglect of
Lord Orville, the moment breakfast was over I left the room, and
was going up stairs; when, very unpleasantly, I was stopped by Sir
Clement Willoughby, who, flying into the hall, prevented my proceeding.

He enquired very particularly after my health, and entreated me to
return into the parlour. Unwillingly, I consented, but thought any
thing preferable to continuing alone with him; and he would neither
leave me, nor suffer me to pass on. Yet, in returning, I felt not a
little ashamed at appearing thus to take the visit of Sir Clement to
myself. And, indeed, he endeavoured, by his manner of addressing me,
to give it that air.

He stayed, I believe, an hour; nor would he, perhaps, even then have
gone, had not Mrs. Beaumont broken up the party, by proposing an
airing in her coach. Lady Louisa consented to accompany her; but
Mrs. Selwyn, when applied to, said, "If my Lord, or Sir Clement,
will join us, I shall be happy to make one;-but really a trio of
females will be nervous to the last degree."

Sir Clement readily agreed to attend them; indeed, he makes it his
evident study to court the favour of Mrs. Beaumont. Lord Orville
excused himself from going out; and I retired to my own room. What
he did with himself I know not, for I would not go down stairs till
dinner was ready: his coldness, though my own change of behaviour
had occasioned it, so cruelly depresses my spirits, that I know not
how to support myself in his presence.

At dinner, I found Sir Clement again of the party. Indeed, he manages
every thing his own way; for Mrs. Beaumont, though by no means easy
to please, seems quite at his disposal.

The dinner, the afternoon, and the evening, were to me the most
irksome imaginable: I was tormented by the assiduity of Sir Clement,
who not only took, but made opportunities of speaking to me,-and
I was hurt,-Oh, how inexpressibly hurt!-that Lord Orville not only
forebore, as hitherto, seeking, he even neglected all occasions of
talking with me!

I begin to think, my dear Sir, that the sudden alteration in my
behaviour was ill-judged and improper; for, as I had received no
offence, as the cause of the change was upon my account, not his,
I should not have assumed, so abruptly, a reserve for which I dared
assign no reason,-nor have shunned his presence so obviously, without
considering the strange appearance of such a conduct.

Alas, my dearest Sir, that my reflections should always be too late to
serve me! dearly, indeed, do I purchase experience! and much, I fear,
I shall suffer yet more severely, from the heedless indiscretion
of my temper, ere I attain that prudence and consideration, which,
by foreseeing distant consequences, may rule and direct in present
exigencies. Oct. 4th.

Yesterday morning every body rode out, except Mrs. Selwyn and myself;
and we two sat for some time together in her room; but, as soon as
I could, I quitted her, to saunter in the garden; for she diverts
herself so unmercifully with rallying me, either upon my gravity, or
concerning Lord Orville,-that I dread having any conversation with her.

Here I believe I spent an hour by myself; when, hearing the
garden-gate open, I went into an arbour at the end of a long walk,
where, ruminating, very unpleasantly, upon my future prospects, I
remained quietly seated but a few minutes, before I was interrupted
by the appearance of Sir Clement Willoughby.

I started; and would have left the arbour, but he prevented me. Indeed,
I am almost certain he had heard in the house where I was, as it is
not, otherwise, probable he would have strolled down the garden alone.

"Stop, stop," cried he, "loveliest and most beloved of women, stop
and hear me!"

Then, making me keep my place, he sat down by me, and would have
taken my hand; but I drew it back, and said I could not stay.

"Can you, then," cried he, "refuse me the smallest gratification,
though, but yesterday, I almost suffered martyrdom for the pleasure
of seeing you?"

"Martyrdom! Sir Clement."

"Yes, beauteous insensible! martyrdom: for did I not compel myself
to be immured in a carriage, the tedious length of a whole morning,
with the three most fatiguing women in England?"

"Upon my word, the ladies are extremely obliged to you."

"Oh," returned he, "they have, every one of them, so copious a share
of their own personal esteem, that they have no right to repine at
the failure of it in the world; and, indeed, they will themselves be
the last to discover it."

"How little," cried I, "are those ladies aware of such severity from
you!"

"They are guarded," answered he, "so happily and so securely by their
own conceit, that they are not aware of it from any body. Oh, Miss
Anville, to be torn away from you, in order to be shut up with them,-is
there a human being, except your cruel self, could forbear to pity me?"

"I believe, Sir Clement, however hardly you may choose to judge of
them, your situation, by the world in general, would rather have been
envied than pitied."

"The world in general," answered he, "has the same opinion of them
that I have myself: Mrs. Beaumont is every where laughed at, Lady
Louisa ridiculed, and Mrs. Selwyn hated."

"Good God, Sir Clement, what cruel strength of words do you use!"

"It is you, my angel, are to blame, since your perfections have
rendered their faults so glaring. I protest to you, during our whole
ride, I thought the carriage drawn by snails. The absurd pride of
Mrs. Beaumont, and the respect she exacts, are at once insufferable
and stupifying; had I never before been in her company, I should
have concluded that this had been her first airing from the herald's
office,-and wished her nothing worse, than that it might also be the
last. I assure you, that but for gaining the freedom of her house,
I would fly her as I would plague, pestilence, and famine. Mrs.
Selwyn, indeed, afforded some relief from this formality, but the
unbounded license of her tongue-"

"O, Sir Clement, do you object to that?"

"Yes, my sweet reproacher, in a woman I do; in a woman I think it
intolerable. She has wit, I acknowledge, and more understanding
than half her sex put together; but she keeps alive a perpetual
expectation of satire, that spreads a general uneasiness among all who
are in her presence; and she talks so much, that even the best things
she says weary the attention. As to the little Louisa, 'tis such a
pretty piece of languor, that 'tis almost cruel to speak rationally
about her,-else I should say, she is a mere compound of affectation,
impertinence, and airs."

"I am quite amazed," said I, "that, with such opinions, you can behave
to them all with so much attention and civility."

"Civility! my angel,-why I could worship, could adore them, only to
procure myself a moment of your conversation! Have you not seen me pay
my court to the gross Captain Mirvan, and the virago Madame Duval? Were
it possible that a creature so horrid could be formed, as to partake of
the worst qualities of all these characters,-a creature who should have
the haughtiness of Mrs. Beaumont, the brutality of Captain Mirvan,
the self-conceit of Mrs. Selwyn, the affectation of Lady Louisa,
and the vulgarity of Madame Duval,-even to such a monster as that I
would pay homage, and pour forth adulation, only to obtain one word,
one look from my adored Miss Anville!"

"Sir Clement," said I, "you are greatly mistaken if you suppose this
duplicity of character recommends you to my good opinion. But I must
take this opportunity of begging you never more to talk to me in
this strain."

"Oh, Miss Anville, your reproofs, your coldness, pierce me to the
soul! look upon me with less rigour, and make me what you please;-you
shall govern and direct all my actions,-you shall new-form, new-model
me:-I will not have even a wish but of your suggestion; only deign
to look upon me with pity-if not with favour!"

"Suffer me, Sir," said I, very gravely, "to make use of this occasion
to put a final conclusion to such expressions. I entreat you never
again to address me in a language so flighty and so unwelcome. You
have already given me great uneasiness; and I must frankly assure
you, that if you do not desire to banish me from wherever you are,
you will adopt a very different style and conduct in future."

I then rose, and was going, but he flung himself at my feet to prevent
me, exclaiming, in a most passionate manner, "Good God! Miss Anville,
what do you say?-is it, can it be possible, that, so unmoved, that,
with such petrifying indifference, you can tear from me even the
remotest hope!"

"I know not, Sir," said I, endeavouring to disengage myself from him,
"what hope you mean, but I am sure that I never intended to give
you any."

"You distract me," cried he, "I cannot endure such scorn;-I beseech
you to have some moderation in your cruelty, lest you make me
desperate:-say, then, that you pity me,-O fairest inexorable! loveliest
tyrant!-say, tell me, at least, that you pity me!"

Just then, who should come in sight, as if intending to pass by
the arbour, but Lord Orville! Good Heaven, how did I start! and he,
the moment he saw me, turned pale, and was hastily retiring;-but I
called out "Lord Orville!-Sir Clement, release me,-let go my hand!"

Sir Clement, in some confusion, suddenly rose, but still grasped
my hand. Lord Orville, who had turned back, was again walking away;
but, still struggling to disengage myself, I called out "Pray, pray,
my Lord, don't go!-Sir Clement, I insist upon your releasing me!"

Lord Orville then, hastily approaching us, said, with great spirit,
"Sir Clement, you cannot wish to detain Miss Anville by force!"

"Neither, my Lord," cried Sir Clement, proudly, "do I request the
honour of your Lordship's interference."

However, he let go my hand, and I immediately ran into the house.

I was now frightened to death, lest Sir Clement's mortified pride
should provoke him to affront Lord Orville: I therefore ran hastily to
Mrs. Selwyn, and entreated her, in a manner hardly to be understood,
to walk towards the arbour. She asked no questions, for she is quick
as lightening in taking a hint, but instantly hastened into the garden.

Imagine, my dear Sir, how wretched I must be till I saw her
return! scarce could I restrain myself from running back: however,
I checked my impatience, and waited, though in agonies, till she came.

And now, my dear Sir, I have a conversation to write, the most
interesting to me that I ever heard. The comments and questions with
which Mrs. Selwyn interrupted her account I shall not mention; for
they are such as you may very easily suppose.

Lord Orville and Sir Clement were both seated very quietly in the
arbour: and Mrs. Selwyn, standing still, as soon as she was within
a few yards of them, heard Sir Clement say, "Your question, my Lord,
alarms me, and I can by no means answer it, unless you will allow me
to propose another."

"Undoubtedly, Sir."

"You ask me, my Lord, what are my intentions?-I should be very happy
to be satisfied as to your Lordship's."

"I have never, Sir, professed any."

Here they were both, for a few moments, silent; and then Sir Clement
said, "To what, my Lord, must I then impute your desire of knowing
mine?"

"To an unaffected interest in Miss Anville's welfare."

"Such an interest," said Sir Clement, drily, "is indeed very generous;
but, except in a father,-a brother,-or a lover-"

"Sir Clement," interrupted his Lordship, "I know your inference;
and I acknowledge I have not the right of enquiry which any of those
three titles bestow; and yet I confess the warmest wishes to serve
her and to see her happy. Will you, then, excuse me, if I take the
liberty to repeat my question?"

"Yes, if your Lordship will excuse my repeating, that I think it a
rather extraordinary one."

"It may be so," said Lord Orville; "but this young lady seems to
be peculiarly situated; she is very young, very inexperienced,
yet appears to be left totally to her own direction. She does not,
I believe, see the dangers to which she is exposed, and I will own
to you, I feel a strong desire to point them out."

"I don't rightly understand your Lordship,-but I think you cannot
mean to prejudice her against me?"

"Her sentiments of you, Sir, are as much unknown to me, as your
intentions towards her. Perhaps, were I acquainted with either,
my officiousness might be at an end: but I presume not to ask upon
what terms-"

Here he stopped; and Sir Clement said, "You know, my Lord, I am not
given to despair; I am by no means such a puppy as to tell you I am
upon sure ground; however, perseverance-"

"You are, then, determined to perservere?"

"I am, my Lord."

"Pardon me, then, Sir Clement, if I speak to you with freedom. This
young lady, though she seems alone, and, in some measure, unprotected,
is not entirely without friends; she has been extremely well educated,
and accustomed to good company; she has a natural love of virtue,
and a mind that might adorn any station, however exalted: is such
a young lady, Sir Clement, a proper object to trifle with?-for your
principles, excuse me, Sir, are well known."

"As to that, my Lord, let Miss Anville look to herself; she has an
excellent understanding, and needs no counsellor."

"Her understanding is indeed excellent; but she is too young for
suspicion, and has an artlessness of disposition I never saw equalled."

"My Lord," cried Sir Clement, warmly, "your praises make me doubt
your disinterestedness, and there exists not the man, whom I would
so unwillingly have for a rival as yourself. But you must give me
leave to say, you have greatly deceived me in regard to this affair."

"How so, Sir?" cried Lord Orville, with equal warmth.

"You were pleased, my Lord," answered Sir Clement, "upon our first
conversation concerning this young lady, to speak to her in terms by
no means suited to your present encomiums; you said she was a poor,
weak, ignorant girl, and I had great reason to believe you had a most
contemptuous opinion of her."

"It is very true," said Lord Orville, "that I did not, at our first
acquaintance, do justice to the merits of Miss Anville; but I knew
not then how new she was to the world; at present, however, I am
convinced, that whatever might appear strange in her behaviour, was
simply the effect of inexperience, timidity, and a retired education;
for I find her informed, sensible, and intelligent. She is not,
indeed, like most modern young ladies, to be known in half an hour:
her modest worth, and fearful excellence, require both time and
encouragement to show themselves. She does not, beautiful as she is,
seize the soul by surprise, but, with more dangerous fascination,
she steals it almost imperceptibly."

"Enough, my Lord," cried Sir Clement, "your solicitude for her welfare
is now sufficiently explained."

"My friendship and esteem," returned Lord Orville, "I do not wish to
disguise; but assure yourself, Sir Clement, I should not have troubled
you upon this subject, had Miss Anville and I ever conversed but as
friends. However, since you do not choose to avow your intentions,
we must drop the subject."

"My intentions," cried he, "I will frankly own, are hardly known
to myself. I think Miss Anville the loveliest of her sex; and,
were I a marrying man, she, of all the women I have seen, I would
fix upon for a wife: but I believe that not even the philosophy of
your Lordship would recommend me to a connection of that sort, with
a girl of obscure birth, whose only dowry is her beauty, and who is
evidently in a state of dependency."

"Sir Clement," cried Lord Orville, with some heat, "we will discuss
this point no further; we are both free agents, and must act for
ourselves."

Here Mrs. Selwyn, fearing a surprise, and finding my apprehensions
of danger were groundless, retired hastily into another walk, and
soon after came to give me this account.

Good Heaven, what a man is this Sir Clement! So designing, though so
easy; so deliberately artful, though so flighty! Greatly, however, is
he mistaken, all confident as he seems; for the girl, obscure, poor,
dependent as she is, far from wishing the honour of his alliance,
would not only now, but always have rejected it.

As to Lord Orville,-but I will not trust my pen to mention him,-tell
me, my dear sir, what you think of him?-tell me if he is not
the noblest of men?-and if you can either wonder at, or blame my
admiration?

The idea of being seen immediately by either party, after so singular
a conversation, was both awkward and distressing to me; but I was
obliged to appear at dinner. Sir Clement, I saw, was absent and
uneasy; he watched me, he watched Lord Orville, and was evidently
disturbed in his mind. Whenever he spoke to me, I turned from him
with undisguised disdain, for I am too much irritated against him,
to bear with his ill-meant assiduities any longer.

But, not once,-not a moment, did I dare meet the eyes of Lord
Orville! All consciousness myself, I dreaded his penetration, and
directed mine every way-but towards his. The rest of the day I never
quitted Mrs. Selwyn.

Adieu, my dear Sir: to-morrow I expect your directions, whether I am
to return to Berry Hill, or once more to visit London.