SCENE III.
Lady Emily's Apartment.
Lady Emily discovered, reading.
Lady E. It will not do. My eyes may run over a thousand subjects, but my thoughts centre in one. Ah! that sigh! that sigh from the fair sufferer this morning——I have found it echo in my own heart ever since.
Enter Servant.
Serv. Madam, Mr. Blandish.
Lady E. Pooh! did you say I was at home?
Serv. Your ladyship gave no orders to the contrary.
Lady E. Show him in. [Exit Servant.] I must take up my air of levity again—It is the only humour for a fellow who I sometimes allow to entertain me, but who can never get my esteem. I have more calls upon my affectation this unlucky day, than my real disposition would execute in a long life.
Enter Blandish.
Lady E. Blandish, I am horridly peevish; have you any thing new to divert me?
Blandish. If you ask me for news, the latest is, that Clifford has been detected in a clandestine intercourse with the object of Lord Gayville's secret passion; that he has betrayed the confidence of his friend and patron, and actually carried her off. [Aside.] Which, Gayville knows by this time, with all its aggravations, or Prompt has not been as active as he used to be.
Lady E. [With Emotion.] Blandish, this is a poor project. Clifford treacherous to his friend? You might as soon make me believe Gayville dispassionate, my uncle charitable, or you ingenuous.
Blandish. His conduct does not rest upon opinion, but proof; and when you know it, you must think of him with aversion.
Lady E. Must I? Then don't let me hear a word more—I have aversions enough already—
[Peevishly.
Blandish. It is impossible you can apply that word to one whose only offence is to adore you.
[Kisses her Hand.
Enter Clifford.
Cliff. [Aside, surprised.] Blandish so favoured?
Lady E. [Aside.] Perverse accident: what mistakes now will he make!
Blandish. [Aside.] The enemy has surprised me—but the only remedy in such emergences, is to show a good countenance.
Cliff. I fear I have been guilty of an unpardonable intrusion.
Blandish. Mr. Clifford never can intrude; but though you had not come so apropos yourself—Lady Emily will bear testimony, I have not spared my pains to remove any prejudices she might have entertained.
Lady E. Had you not better repeat in your own words, Mr. Blandish, all the obliging things you have said of this gentleman?
Cliff. It is not necessary, madam—if without robbing you of moments that I perceive are precious—
Lady E. Sir?
Cliff. I might obtain a short audience—
[Looking at Blandish.
Blandish. [Aside.] He's devilish impudent—but he cannot soon get over facts, and I'll take care the conference shall not be long. [To Lady Emily.]—Lady Emily; hear Mr. Clifford, and judge if I have misrepresented him—[To Clifford.] When you want a friend, you know where to find him.
[Exit.
Lady E. This is an interview, Mr. Clifford, that I desire not to be understood to have authorized. It is not to me, you are accountable for your actions—I have no personal interest in them.
Cliff. I know it well.
Lady E. [Peevishly.] Do not run away with the notion neither, that I am therefore interested in any other person's—You have among you vexed and disconcerted me, but there is not a grain of partiality in all my embarrassment—if you have any eyes, you may see there is not.
Cliff. Happy Blandish! your triumph is evident.
Lady E. Blandish, the odious creature—He is my abhorrence—You are hardly worse yourself in my bad opinion, though you have done so much more to deserve it.
Cliff. How cruel are the circumstances that compel me to leave you under these impressions!—nay—more—at such a time to urge a request, that during your most favourable thoughts of me would have appeared strange if not presumptuous.—This is the key of my apartment. It contains a secret that the exigency of the hour obliged me, against inclination or propriety, to lodge there. Should Sir Clement return before me, I implore you to prevent his discovery, and give to what you find within, your confidence and protection. Lord Gayville—but I shall go too far—the most anxious event of my life presses on me. I conjure you to comply, by all the compassion and tenderness nature has treasured in your heart—not for me—but for occasions worthy their display. Pray take it.
[Gives the Key, which she receives with some reluctance and exit.
Lady E. Heigho!—It's well, he's gone without insisting on my answer: I was in a sad flutter of indecision. What mysterious means he takes to engage me in a confidence which I could not directly accept!—I am to find a letter, I suppose—the story of his heart—Its errors and defence—My brother's name, also—to furnish me with a new interest in the secret, and one I might avow—One may dislike this art, but must be sensible of his delicacy——Ah, when these two qualities unite in a man, I am afraid he is an overmatch for the wisest of us—Hark!—sure that is the sound of my uncle's coach—[Looks out of the Window.] 'Tis he—and now for the secret—Curiosity! innate irresistible principle in womankind, be my excuse, before I dare question my mind upon other motives.
[Exit.