LETTER LXXIX - EVELINA IN CONTINUATION. October 9th.
HOW agitated, my dear Sir, is the present life of your Evelina! every
day
seems important, and one event only a prelude to another.
Mrs. Selwyn, upon her return this morning from the Hot Wells,
entering my
room very abruptly, said, “Oh, my dear, I have terrible news for you!”
“For me, Ma’am!-Good God! what now?”
“Arm yourself,” cried she, “with all your Berry Hill philosophy;-con
over
every lesson of fortitude or resignation you ever learnt in your
life;-for know,-you are next week to be married to Lord Orville!”
Doubt, astonishment, and a kind of perturbation I cannot describe,
made this
abrupt communication alarm me extremely; and, almost breathless,
I could only exclaim, “Good God, Madam, what do you tell me!”
“You may well be frightened, my dear,” said she, ironically;
“for really
there is something mighty terrific in becoming, at once, the wife of
the man you adore,-and a Countess!”
I entreated her to spare her raillery, and tell me her real
meaning. She
could not prevail with herself to grant the first request, though
she readily complied with the second.
My poor father, she said, was still in the utmost uneasiness: he
entered upon
his affairs with great openness, and told her, he was equally
disturbed how to dispose either of the daughter he had discovered,
or the daughter he was now to give up; the former he dreaded to trust
himself with again beholding, and the latter he knew not how to shock
with the intelligence of her disgrace. Mrs. Selwyn then acquainted
him with my situation in regard to Lord Orville: this delighted him
extremely; and, when he heard of his Lordship’s eagerness, he said he
was himself of opinion, the sooner the union took place the better;
and, in return, he informed her of the affair of Mr. Macartney. “And,
after a very long conversation,” continued Mrs. Selwyn, “we agreed,
that the most eligible scheme for all parties would be, to have both
the real and the fictitious daughter married without delay. Therefore,
if either of you have any inclination to pull caps for the title of
Miss Belmont, you must do it with all speed, as next week will take
from both of you all pretensions to it.”
“Next week!-dear Madam, what a strange plan!-without my being
consulted,-without applying to Mr. Villars,-without even the
concurrence of Lord Orville!”
“As to consulting you, my dear, it was out of all question;
because, you
know, young ladies’ hearts and hands are always to be given with
reluctance;-as to Mr. Villars, it is sufficient we know him for your
friend;-and as for Lord Orville, he is a party concerned.”
“A party concerned!-you amaze me!”
“Why, yes; for, as I found our consultation likely to redound to his
advantage, I persuaded Sir John to send for him.”
“Send for him!-Good God!”
“Yes; and Sir John agreed. I told the servant, that if he could not
hear of
his Lordship in the house, he might be pretty certain of encountering
him in the arbour.-Why do you colour, my dear?-Well, he was with us in
a moment: I introduced him to Sir John; and we proceeded to business.”
“I am very, very sorry for it!-Lord Orville must himself think
this conduct
strangely precipitate.”
“No, my dear, you are mistaken; Lord Orville has too much good sense.
Everything was then discussed in a rational manner. You are to be
married privately, though not secretly, and then go to one of his
Lordship’s country seats: and poor little Miss Green and your brother,
who have no house of their own, must go to one of Sir John’s.”
“But why, my dear Madam, why all this haste? why may we not be
allowed a
little longer time?”
“I could give you a thousand reasons,” answered she, “but that I
am tolerably
certain two or three will be more than you can controvert, even with
all the logic of genuine coquetry. In the first place, you doubtless
wish to quit the house of Mrs. Beaumont: to whose, then, can you with
such propriety remove as to Lord Orville’s?”
“Surely, Madam,” cried I, “I am not more destitute now than when
I thought
myself an orphan.”
“Your father, my dear,” answered she, “is willing to save the
little impostor
as much of the mortification of her disgrace as is in his power;
now, if you immediately take her place, according to your right,
as Miss Belmont, why, not all that either of you can do for her,
will prevent her being eternally stigmatized as the bantling of Dame
Green, wash-woman and wet nurse, of Berry Hill, Dorsetshire. Now such
a genealogy will not be very flattering, even to Mr. Macartney, who,
all-dismal as he is, you will find by no means wanting in pride and
self-consequence.”
“For the universe,” interrupted I, “I would not be accessary to the
degradation you mention; but surely, Madam, I may return to Berry
Hill?”
“By no means,” said she; “for though compassion may make us wish to
save the
poor girl the confusion of an immediate and public fall, yet justice
demands you should appear henceforward in no other light than that
of Sir John Belmont’s daughter. Besides, between friends, I, who know
the world, can see that half this prodigious delicacy for the little
usurper is the mere result of self-interest; for, while her affairs
are hushed up, Sir John’s, you know, are kept from being brought
further to light. Now the double marriage we have projected obviates
all rational objections. Sir John will give you immediately L.30,000;
all settlements, and so forth, will be made for you in the name of
Evelina Belmont:-Mr. Macartney will at the same time take poor Polly
Green; and yet, at first, it will only be generally known that a
daughter of Sir John Belmont is married.”
In this manner, though she did not convince me, yet the quickness
of her
arguments silenced and perplexed me. I enquired, however, if I might
not be permitted to again see my father, or whether I must regard
myself as banished his presence for ever?
“My dear,” said she, “he does not know you: he concludes that you
have been
brought up to detest him; and therefore he is rather prepared to
dread than to love you.”
This answer made me very unhappy: I wished, most impatiently, to
remove his
prejudice, and endeavour, by dutiful assiduity, to engage his kindness;
yet knew not how to propose seeing him, while conscious he wished to
avoid me.
This evening, as soon as the company was engaged with cards,
Lord Orville
exerted his utmost eloquence to reconcile me to this hasty plan;
but how was I startled when he told me that next Tuesday was the day
appointed by my father to be the most important of my life!
“Next Tuesday!” repeated I, quite out of breath, “Oh, my Lord!-”
“My sweet Evelina,” said he, “the day which will make me the
happiest of
mortals, would probably appear awful to you, were it to be deferred
a twelvemonth. Mrs. Selwyn has, doubtless, acquainted you with the
many motives which, independent of my eagerness, require it to be
speedy; suffer, therefore, its acceleration, and generously complete
my felicity, by endeavouring to suffer it without repugnance.”
“Indeed, my Lord, I would not wilfully raise objections, nor do I
desire to
appear insensible of the honour of your good opinion;-but
there is something in this plan-so very hasty-so unreasonably
precipitate:-besides, I shall have no time to hear from Berry
Hill;-and believe me, my Lord, I should be for ever miserable,
were I, in an affair so important, to act without the sanction of
Mr. Villars’s advice.”
He offered to wait on you himself: but I told him I had rather write
to you.
And then he proposed, that, instead of my immediately accompanying him
to Lincolnshire, we should first pass a month at my native Berry Hill.
This was, indeed, a grateful proposal to me, and I listened to it with
undisguised pleasure. And, in short, I was obliged to consent to
a compromise in merely deferring the day till Thursday! He readily
undertook to engage my father’s concurrence in this little delay;
and I besought him, at the same time, to make use of his influence
to obtain me a second interview, and to represent the deep concern
I felt in being thus banished his sight.
He would then have spoken of settlements; but I assured him I
was almost
ignorant of the word.
And now, my dearest Sir, what is your opinion of these hasty
proceedings?
Believe me, I half regret the simple facility with which I have
suffered myself to be hurried into compliance; and, should you start
but the smallest objection, I will yet insist upon being allowed
more time.
I must now write a concise account of the state of my affairs
to Howard
Grove, and to Madame Duval.
Adieu, dearest and most honoured Sir! everything at present depends
upon your
single decision; to which, though I yield in trembling, I yield
implicitly.