LETTER XXII - EVELINA IN CONTINUATION Monday Morning, April 18.
MRS. MIRVAN has just communicated to me an anecdote concerning Lord Orville, which has much surprised, half pleased, and half pained me.
While they were sitting together during the opera, he told her that he had been greatly concerned at the impertinence which the young lady under her protection had suffered from Mr. Lovel; but that he had the pleasure of assuring her, she had no future disturbance to apprehend from him.
Mrs. Mirvan, with great eagerness, begged he would explain himself; and said she hoped he had not thought so insignificant an affair worthy his serious attention.
“There is nothing,” answered he, “which requires more immediate notice than impertinence, for it ever encroaches when it is tolerated.” He then added, that he believed he ought to apologize for the liberty he had taken in interfering; but that, as he regarded himself in the light of a party concerned, from having had the honour of dancing with Miss Anville, he could not possibly reconcile to himself a patient neutrality.
He then proceeded to tell her, that he had waited upon Mr. Lovel the morning after the play; that the visit had proved an amicable one, but the particulars were neither entertaining nor necessary: he only assured her, Miss Anville might be perfectly easy, since Mr. Lovel had engaged his honour never more to mention, or even to hint at what had passed at Mrs. Stanley’s assembly.
Mrs. Mirvan expressed her satisfaction at this conclusion, and thanked him for his polite attention to her young friend.
“It would be needless,” said he, “to request that this affair may never transpire, since Mrs. Mirvan cannot but see the necessity of keeping it inviolably secret; but I thought it incumbent upon me, as the young lady is under your protection, to assure both you and her of Mr. Lovel’s future respect.”
Had I known of this visit previous to Lord Orville’s making it, what dreadful uneasiness would it have cost me! Yet that he should so much interest himself in securing me from offence, gives me, I must own, an internal pleasure, greater than I can express; for I feared he had too contemptuous an opinion of me, to take any trouble upon my account. Though, after all, this interference might rather be to satisfy his own delicacy, than from thinking well of me.
But how cool, how quiet is true courage! Who, from seeing Lord Orville at the play, would have imagined his resentment would have hazarded his life? yet his displeasure was evident, though his real bravery and his politeness equally guarded him from entering into any discussion in our presence.
Madame Duval, as I expected, was most terribly angry yesterday: she scolded me for, I believe, two hours, on account of having left her; and protested she had been so much surprised at my going, without giving her time to answer, that she hardly knew whether she was awake or asleep. But she assured me that if ever I did so again, she would never more take me into public. And she expressed an equal degree of displeasure against Sir Clement, because he had not even spoken to her, and because he was always of the Captain’s side in an argument. The Captain, as bound in honour, warmly defended him, and then followed a dispute in the usual style.
After dinner, Mrs. Mirvan introduced the subject of our leaving London. Madame Duval said she would stay a month or two longer. The Captain told her she was welcome, but that he and his family should go into the country on Tuesday morning.
A most disagreeable scene followed. Madame Duval insisted upon keeping me with her; but Mrs. Mirvan said, that as I was actually engaged on a visit to Lady Howard, who had only consented to my leaving her for a few days, she could not think of returning without me.
Perhaps, if the Captain had not interfered, the good-breeding and mildness of Mrs. Mirvan might have had some effect upon Madame Duval; but he passes no opportunity of provoking her; and therefore made so many gross and rude speeches, all of which she retorted, that, in conclusion, she vowed she would sooner go to law in right of her relationship, than that I should be taken away from her.
I heard this account from Mrs. Mirvan, who was so kindly considerate as to give me a pretence for quitting the room as soon as this dispute began, lest Madame Duval should refer to me, and insist on my obedience.
The final result of the conversation was, that, to soften matters for the present, Madame Duval should make one in the party to Howard Grove, whither we are positively to go next Wednesday. And though we are none of us satisfied with this plan, we know not how to form a better.
Mrs. Mirvan is now writing to Lady Howard, to excuse bringing this unexpected guest, and prevent the disagreeable surprise which must otherwise attend her reception. This dear lady seems eternally studying my happiness and advantage.
To-night we go to the Pantheon, which is the last diversion we shall partake of in London; for to-morrow- * * * * *
This moment, my dearest Sir, I have received your kind letter.
If you thought us too dissipated the first week, I almost fear to know what you will think of us this second;-however, the Pantheon this evening will probably be the last public place which I shall ever see.
The assurance of your support and protection in regard to Madame Duval, though what I never doubted, excites my utmost gratitude. How, indeed, cherished under your roof, the happy object of your constant indulgence, how could I have borne to become the slave of her tyrannical humours? -Pardon me that I speak so hardly of her; but whenever the idea of passing my days with her occurs to me, the comparison which naturally follows, takes from me all that forbearance which, I believe, I owe her.
You are already displeased with Sir Clement: to be sure, then, his behaviour after the opera will not make his peace with you. Indeed the more I reflect upon it, the more angry I am. I was entirely in his power, and it was cruel in him to cause me so much terror.
O, my dearest Sir, were I but worthy the prayers and the wishes you offer for me, the utmost ambition of my heart would be fully satisfied! but I greatly fear you will find me, now that I am out of the reach of your assisting prudence, more weak and imperfect than you could have expected.
I have not now time to write another word, for I must immediately hasten to dress for the evening.
LETTER XXIII - EVELINA IN CONTINUATION Queen Ann Street, Tuesday, April 19.
THERE is something to me half melancholy in writing an account of our last adventures in London. However, as this day is merely appropriated to packing and preparations for our journey, and as I shall shortly have no more adventures to write, I think I may as well complete my town journal at once: and, when you have it all together, I hope, my dear Sir, you will send me your observations and thoughts upon it to Howard Grove.
About eight o’clock we went to the Pantheon. I was extremely struck with the beauty of the building, which greatly surpassed whatever I could have expected or imagined. Yet it has more the appearance of a chapel than of a place of diversion; and, though I was quite charmed with the magnificence of the room, I felt that I could not be as gay and thoughtless there as at Ranelagh; for there is something in it which rather inspires awe and solemnity, than mirth and pleasure. However, perhaps it may only have this effect upon such a novice as myself.
I should have said, that our party consisted only of Captain, Mrs. and Miss Mirvan, as Madame Duval spent the day in the city;-which I own I could not lament.
There was a great deal of company; but the first person we saw was Sir Clement Willoughby. He addressed us with his usual ease, and joined us for the whole evening. I felt myself very uneasy in his presence; for I could not look at him, nor hear him speak, without recollecting the chariot adventure; but, to my great amazement, I observed that he looked at me without the least apparent discomposure, though, certainly, he ought not to think of his behaviour without blushing. I really wish I had not forgiven him, and then he could not have ventured to speak to me any more.
There was an exceeding good concert, but too much talking to hear it well. Indeed I am quite astonished to find how little music is attended to in silence; for, though every body seems to admire, hardly any body listens.
We did not see Lord Orville till we went into the tea-room, which is large, low, and under ground, and serves merely as a foil to the apartments above; he then sat next to us. He seemed to belong to a large party, chiefly of ladies; but, among the gentlemen attending them, I perceived Mr. Lovel.
I was extremely irresolute whether or not I ought to make any acknowledgments to Lord Orville for his generous conduct in securing me from the future impertinence of that man; and I thought, that, as he had seemed to allow Mrs. Mirvan to acquaint me, though no one else, of the measures which he had taken, he might perhaps suppose me ungrateful if silent: however, I might have spared myself the trouble of deliberating, as I never once had the shadow of an opportunity of speaking unheard by Sir Clement. On the contrary, he was so exceedingly officious and forward, that I could not say a word to any body but instantly he bent his head forward, with an air of profound attention, as if I had addressed myself wholly to him; and yet I never once looked at him, and would not have spoken to him on any account.
Indeed, Mrs. Mirvan herself, though unacquainted with the behaviour of Sir Clement after the opera, says it is not right for a young woman to be seen so frequently in public with the same gentleman; and, if our stay in town was to be lengthened, she would endeavour to represent to the Captain the impropriety of allowing his constant attendance; for Sir Clement with all his easiness, could not be so eternally of our parties, if the Captain was less fond of his company.
At the same table with Lord Orville sat a gentleman,-I call him so only because he was at the same table,-who, almost from the moment I was seated, fixed his eyes steadfastly on my face, and never once removed them to any other object during tea-time, notwithstanding my dislike of his staring must, I am sure, have been very evident. I was quite surprised, that a man, whose boldness was so offensive, could have gained admission into a party of which Lord Orville made one; for I naturally concluded him to be some low-bred, uneducated man; and I thought my idea was indubitably confirmed, when I heard him say to Sir Clement Willoughby, in an audible whisper,-which is a mode of speech very distressing and disagreeable to bystanders,-“For Heaven’s sake, Willoughby, who is that lovely creature?”
But what was my amazement, when, listening attentively for the answer, though my head was turned another way, I heard Sir Clement say, “I am sorry I cannot inform your Lordship, but I am ignorant myself.”
Lordship! how extraordinary! that a nobleman, accustomed, in all probability, to the first rank of company in the kingdom, from his earliest infancy, can possibly be deficient in good manners, however faulty in morals and principles! Even Sir Clement Willoughby appeared modest in comparison with this person.
During tea, a conversation was commenced upon the times, fashions, and public places, in which the company of both tables joined. It began by Sir Clement’s inquiring of Miss Mirvan and of me, if the Pantheon had answered our expectations.
We both readily agreed that it had greatly exceeded them.
“Ay, to be sure,” said the Captain, “why, you don’t suppose they’d confess they didn’t like it, do you? Whatever’s the fashion, they must like, of course;-or else, I’d be bound for it, they’d own, that there never was such a dull place as this here invented.”
“And has, then, this building,” said Lord Orville, “no merit that may serve to lessen your censure? Will not your eye, Sir, speak something in its favour?”
“Eye!” cried the Lord, (I don’t know his name,) “and is there any eye here, that can find pleasure in looking at dead walls or statues, when such heavenly living objects as I now see demand all their admiration?”
“O, certainly,” said Lord Orville, “the lifeless symmetry of architecture, however beautiful the design and proportion, no man would be so mad as to put in competition with the animated charms of nature: but when, as to-night, the eye may be regaled at the same time, and in one view, with all the excellence of art, and all the perfection of nature, I cannot think that either suffer by being seen together.”
“I grant, my Lord,” said Sir Clement, “that the cool eye of unimpassioned philosophy may view both with equal attention, and equal safety; but, where the heart is not so well guarded, it is apt to interfere, and render, even to the eye, all objects but one insipid and uninteresting.”
“Aye, Aye,” cried the Captain, “you may talk what you will of your eye here, and your eye there, and, for the matter of that, to be sure you have two,-but we all know they both squint one way.”
“Far be it from me,” said Lord Orville, “to dispute the magnetic power of beauty, which irresistibly draws and attracts whatever has soul and sympathy: and I am happy to acknowledge, that though we have now no gods to occupy a mansion professedly built for them, yet we have secured their better halves, for we have goddesses to whom we all most willingly bow down.” And then with a very droll air, he made a profound reverence to the ladies.
“They’d need to be goddesses with a vengeance,” said the Captain, “for they’re mortal dear to look at. Howsomever, I should be glad to know what you can see in e’er a face among them that’s worth half-a-guinea for a sight.”
“Half-a-guinea!” exclaimed that same Lord, “I would give half I am worth for a sight of only one, provided I make my own choice. And, prithee, how can money be better employed than in the service of fine women?”
“If the ladies of his own party can pardon the Captain’s speech,” said Sir Clement, “I think he has a fair claim to the forgiveness of all.”
“Then you depend very much, as I doubt not but you may,” said Lord Orville, “upon the general sweetness of the sex;-but as to the ladies of the Captain’s party, they may easily pardon, for they cannot be hurt.”
“But they must have a devilish good conceit of themselves, though,” said the Captain, “to believe all that. Howsomever, whether or no, I should be glad to be told by some of you, who seem to be knowing in them things, what kind of diversion can be found in such a place as this here, for one who has had, long ago, his full of face-hunting?”
Every body laughed, but nobody spoke.
“Why, look you there now,” continued the Captain, “you’re all at a dead stand!-not a man among you can answer that there question. Why, then, I must make bold to conclude, that you all come here for no manner of purpose but to stare at one another’s pretty faces:-though, for the matter of that, half of ‘em are plaguy ugly;-and, as to t’other half,-I believe it’s none of God’s manufactory.”
“What the ladies may come hither for, Sir,” said Mr. Lovel, (stroking his ruffles, and looking down,) “it would ill become us to determine; but as to we men, doubtless we can have no other view than to admire them.”
“If I ben’t mistaken,” cried the Captain, (looking earnestly in
his face,)
“you are that same person we saw at Love for Love t’other night;
ben’t you?”
Mr. Lovel bowed.
“Why, then, Gentlemen,” continued he, with a loud laugh, “I must tell you a most excellent good joke;-when all was over, as sure as you’re alive, he asked what the play was! Ha, ha, ha!”
“Sir,” said Mr. Lovel, colouring, “if you were as much used to
town-life as I
am,-which, I presume, is not precisely the case,-I fancy you would
not find so much diversion from a circumstance so common.”
“Common! What, is it common?” repeated the Captain; “why then,
‘fore George,
such chaps are more fit to be sent to school, and well disciplined with
a cat-o’-nine tails, than to poke their heads into a play-house. Why,
a play is the only thing left, now-a-days, that has a grain of sense
in it; for as to all the rest of your public places, d’ye see, if
they were all put together, I wouldn’t give that for ‘em!” (snapping
his fingers.) “And now we’re talking of them sort of things, there’s
your operas,-I should like to know, now, what any of you can find to
say for them.”
Lord Orville, who was most able to have answered, seemed by no means
to think
the Captain worthy an argument, upon a subject concerning which he
had neither knowledge nor feeling: but, turning to us, he said, “The
ladies are silent, and we seem to have engrossed the conversation to
ourselves, in which we are much more our own enemies than theirs. But,”
addressing himself to Miss Mirvan and me, “I am most desirous to hear
the opinions of these young ladies, to whom all public places must,
as yet, be new.”
We both, and with eagerness, declared that we had received as much,
if not
more pleasure, at the opera than any where: but we had better have
been silent; for the Captain, quite displeased, said, “What signifies
asking them girls? Do you think they know their own minds yet? Ask
?em after any thing that’s called diversion, and you’re sure they’ll
say it’s vastly fine-they are a set of parrots, and speak by rote,
for they all say the same thing: but ask ‘em how they like making
puddings and pies, and I’ll warrant you’ll pose ‘em. As to them operas,
I desire I may hear no more of their liking such nonsense; and for
you, Moll” (to his daughter,) “I charge you, as you value my favour,
that you’ll never again be so impertinent as to have a taste of your
own before my face. There are fools enough in the world, without
your adding to their number. I’ll have no daughter of mine affect
them sort of megrims. It is a shame they a’n’t put down; and if I’d
my will, there’s not a magistrate in this town but should be knocked
on the head for suffering them. If you’ve a mind to praise any thing,
why you may praise a play, and welcome, for I like it myself.”
This reproof effectually silenced us both for the rest of the
evening. Nay,
indeed, for some minutes it seemed to silence every body else; till Mr.
Lovel, not willing to lose an opportunity of returning the Captain’s
sarcasm, said, “Why, really Sir, it is but natural to be most pleased
with what is most familiar; and, I think, of all our diversions,
there is not one so much in common between us and the country as a
play. Not a village but has its barns and comedians; and as for the
stage business, why it may be pretty equally done any where; and even
in regard to us, and the canaille, confined as we all are within the
semi-circle of a theatre, there is no place where the distinction is
less obvious.”
While the Captain seemed considering for Mr. Lovel’s meaning,
Lord Orville,
probably with a view to prevent his finding it, changed the subject
to Cox’s Museum, and asked what he thought of it?
“Think!-“said he, “why I think as how it i’n’t worth thinking
about. I like
no such jemcracks. It is only fit, in my mind, for monkeys:-though,
for aught I know, they too might turn up their noses at it.”
“May we ask your Lordship’s own opinion?” said Mrs. Mirvan.
“The mechanism,” answered he, “is wonderfully ingenioous: I am sorry
it is
turned to no better account; but its purport is so frivolous, so
very remote from all aim at instruction or utility, that the sight
of so fine a show leaves a regret on the mind, that so much work,
and so much ingenuity, should not be better bestowed.”
“The truth is,” said the Captain, “that in all this huge town,
so full as it
is of folks of all sorts, there i’n’t so much as one public place,
besides the play-house, where a man, that’s to say, a man who is a
man, ought not to be ashamed to shew his face. T’other day they got
me to a ridotto: but, I believe, it will be long enough before they
get me to another. I knew no more what to do with myself, than if my
ship’s company had been metamorphosed into Frenchman. Then, again,
there’s your famous Ranelagh, that you make such a fuss about;-why
what a dull place is that!-it’s the worst of all.”
“Ranelagh dull!”-“Ranelagh dull!-was echoed from mouth to mouth;
and all
the ladies, as if of one accord, regarded the Captain with looks of
the most ironical contempt.
“As to Ranelagh,” said Mr. Lovell, “most indubitably, though the
price is
blebian, it is by no means adapted to the plebian taste. It requires
a certain acquaintance with high life, and-and-and something
of-of-something d’un vrai gout, to be really sensible of its
merit. Those whose-whose connections, and so forth, are not among
les gens comme il faut, can feel nothing but ennui at such a place
as Ranelagh.”
“Ranelagh!” cried Lord -, “O, tis the divinest place under heaven,-or,
indeed,-for aught I know-”
“O you creature!” cried a pretty, but affected young lady, patting him with her fan, “you sha’n’t talk so; I know what you are going to say; but, positively, I won’t sit by you, if you’re so wicked.”
“And how can one sit by you, and be good?” said he, “when only to
look at you
is enough to make one wicked-or wish to be so?”
“Fie, my Lord!” returned she, “you really are insufferable. I don’t
think I
shall speak to you again these seven years.”
“What a metamorphosis,” cried Lord Orville,” should you make a
patriarch of
his Lordship.”
“Seven years!” said he, “dear Madam, be contented with telling me
you will
not speak to me after seven years, and I will endeavour to submit.”
“O, very well, my Lord,” answered she, “pray date the end of our speaking to each other as early as you please, I’ll promise to agree to your time.”
“You know, dear Madam,” said he, sipping his tea, “you know I only
live in
your sight.”
“O yes, my Lord, I have long known that. But I begin to fear we
shall be too
late for Ranelagh this evening.”
“O no, Madame,” said Mr. Lovel, looking at his watch, “it is but
just past
ten.”
“No more!” cried she, “O then we shall do very well.”
All the ladies now started up, and declared they had no time to lose.
“Why, what the D-l,” cried the Captain, leaning forward with both
his arms
on the table,” are you going to Ranelagh at this time of night?”
The ladies looked at one another, and smiled.
“To Ranelagh?” cried Lord -, “yes, and I hope you are going too;
for we
cannot possibly excuse these ladies.”
“I go to Ranelagh?-if I do, I’ll be -.”
Everybody now stood up; and the stranger Lord, coming round to me,
said, “You
go, I hope?”
“No, my Lord, I believe not.”
“O you cannot, must not be so barbarous.” And he took my hand,
and ran on,
saying such fine speeches, and compliments, that I might almost have
supposed myself a goddess, and him a pagan paying me adoration. As
soon as I possibly could, I drew back my hand; but he frequently,
in the course of conversation, contrived to take it again, though it
was extremely disagreeable to me; and the more so, as I saw that Lord
Orville had his eyes fixed upon us, with a gravity of attention that
made me uneasy.
And, surely, my dear Sir, it was a great liberty in this lord,
not withstanding his rank, to treat me so freely. As to Sir Clement,
he seemed in misery.
They all endeavoured to prevail with the Captain to join the
Ranelagh party;
and this lord told me, in a low voice, that it was tearing his heart
out to go without me.
During this conversation Mr. Lovel came forward, and assuming a look of surprise, made me a bow, and inquired how I did, protesting upon his honour, that he had not seen me before, or would have sooner paid his respects to me.
Though his politeness was evidently constrained, yet I was very glad
to be
thus assured of having nothing more to fear from him.
The Captain, far from listening to their persuasions of accompanying
them to
Ranelagh, was quite in a passion at the proposal, and vowed he would
sooner go to the Blackhole in Calcutta.
“But,” said Lord -, “if the ladies will take their tea at Ranelagh, you may depend upon our seeing them safe home; for we shall be proud of the honour of attending them.”
“May be so,” said the Captain, “but I’ll tell you what, if one
of these
places ben’t enough for them to-night, why to-morrow they shall go
to ne’er a one.”
We instantly declared ourselves ready to go home.
“It is not for yourselves that we petition,” said Lord -. “But for us; if you have any charity, you will not be so cruel as to deny us; we only beg you to prolong our happiness for a few minutes,-the favour is but a small one for you to grant, though so great a one for us to receive.”
“To tell you a piece of my mind,” said the Captain, surlily,
“I think you
might as well not give the girls so much of this palaver; they’ll take
it all for gospel. As to Moll, why she’s well enough, but nothing
extraordinary; though, perhaps, you may persuade her that her pug
nose is all the fashion; and as to the other, why she’s good white
and red to be sure; but what of that?-I’ll warrant she’ll moulder
away as fast as her neighbours.”
“Is there,” cried Lord -, “another man in this place, who, seeing such
objects, could make such a speech?”
“As to that there,” returned the Captain, “I don’t know whether
there be or
no, and, to make free, I don’t care; for I sha’n’t go for to model
myself by any of these fair-weather chaps, who dare not so much
as say their souls are their own,-and, for aught I know, no more
they ben’t. I’m almost as much ashamed of my countrymen as if I was
a Frenchman, and I believe in my heart there i’n’t a pin to choose
between them; and, before long, we shall hear the very sailors talking
that lingo, and see never a swabber without a bag and a sword.”
“He, he, he!-well, ‘pon honour,” cried Mr. Lovel, “you gentlemen of
the ocean
have a most severe way of judging.”
“Severe! ‘fore George, that is impossible; for, to cut the matter
short, the
men, as they call themselves, are no better than monkeys; and as to
the women, why they are mere dolls. So now you’ve got my opinion of
this subject; and I so wish you good night.”
The ladies, who were very impatient to be gone, made their courtsies,
and
tripped away, followed by all the gentlemen of their party, except
the lord before mentioned, and, Lord Orville, who stayed to make
inquiries of Mrs. Mirvan concerning our leaving town; and then
saying, with his usual politeness, something civil to each of us,
with a very grave air he quitted us.
Lord - remained some minutes longer, which he spent in making a
profusion of
compliments to me; by which he prevented my hearing distinctly what
Lord Orville said, to my great vexation, especially as he looked-I
thought so, at least-as if displeased at his particularity of behaviour
to me.
In going to an outward room, to wait for the carriage, I walked, and
could not possibly avoid it, between this nobleman and Sir Clement
Willoughby, and, when the servant said the coach stopped the way,
though the latter offered me his hand, which I should much have
preferred, this same lord, without any ceremony, took mine himself;
and Sir Clement, with a look extremely provoked, conducted Mrs. Mirvan.
In all ranks and all stations of life, how strangely do characters and
manners differ! Lord Orville, with a politeness which knows no
intermission, and makes no distinction, is as unassuming and modest
as if he had never mixed with the great, and was totally ignorant
of every qualification he possesses; this other lord, though lavish
of compliments and fine speeches, seems to me an entire stranger to
real good-breeding; whoever strikes his fancy, engrosses his whole
attention. He is forward and bold; has an air of haughtiness towards
men, and a look of libertinism towards woman; and his conscious quality
seems to have given him a freedom in his way of speaking to either sex,
that is very little short of rudeness.
When we returned home, we were all low-spirited. The evening’s
entertainment
had displeased the Captain; and his displeasure, I believe,
disconcerted us all.
And here I thought to have concluded my letter; but, to my great
surprise,
just now we had a visit from Lord Orville. He called, he said, to
pay his respects to us before we left town, and made many inquiries
concerning our return; and, when Mrs Mirvan told him we were going
into the country without any view of again quitting it, he expressed
concern in such terms-so polite, so flattering, so serious-that I
could hardly forbear being sorry for myself. Were I to go immediately
to Berry Hill, I am sure I should feel nothing but joy;-but, now we
are joined by this Captain, and Madame Duval, I must own I expect
very little pleasure at Howard Grove.
Before Lord Orville went, Sir Clement Willoughby called. He was
more grave
than I had ever seen him; and made several attempts to speak to me in
a low voice, and to assure me that his regret upon the occasion of
our journey was entirely upon my account. But I was not in spirits,
and could not bear to be teased by him. However, he has so well
paid his court to Captain Mirvan, that he gave him a very hearty
invitation to the Grove. At this he brightened,-and just then Lord
Orville took leave.
No doubt but he was disgusted at this ill-timed, ill-bred partiality;
for
surely it was very wrong to make an invitation before Lord Orville
in which he was not included! I was so much chagrined, that, as soon
as he went, I left the room; and I shall not go down stairs till Sir
Clement is gone.
Lord Orville cannot but observe his assiduous endeavours to ingratiate himself into my favour; and does not this extravagant civility of Captain Mirvan give him reason to suppose that it meets with our general approbation? I cannot thimk upon this subject without inexpressible uneasiness; and yet I can think of nothing else.
Adieu, my dearest Sir. Pray write to me immediately. How many
long letters
has this one short fortnight produced! More than I may probably
ever write again. I fear I shall have tired you with reading them;
but you will now have time to rest, for I shall find but little to
say in future.
And now, most honoured Sir, with all the follies and imperfections
which I
have thus faithfully recounted, can you, and with unabated kindness,
suffer me to sign myself Your dutiful and most affectionate EVELINA?