Some years ago, a worthy country judge, having heard a cause very ingeniously debated by lawyers on each side, when he came to charge the jury, did it in the words following: "Gentlemen of the jury, you must get along with this cause as well as you can; for my part, I am swamp'd." Now Reubon is exactly in the case of this judge, and I am at a loss what to advise him. You could unravel this thing in five minutes. Would to God you were here; but to the story.
He found Celeste with a visitor; some female neighbour, who sat a full half hour. Celeste betrayed considerable agitation when Reubon came in, and the most palpable impatience at the long stay of the lady visitor. At length she went, and the parties were alone. As she had desired the interview, it was her place to speak first. After a pause and several efforts, she, with some trepidation, said that she feared the letter which she had writen had not been expressed in terms sufficiently polite and respectful; she had wished an opportunity to apologize; and here she stuck. Reubon ought in mercy and in politeness to have taken up the conversation; but he, expecting no such thing, was taken by surprise, and remained dumb, with a kind of half grin. The duette, at this moment, would have made a charming subject for the pencil of Vanderlyn. Celeste was profoundly occupied in tearing up some roses which she held in her hand, and Reubon was equally industrious in twirling his hat, and pinching some new corners and angles in the brim. At length he recovered himself so far as to gain utterance. He denied, plumply, that there was want of politeness or respect in the letter; and, after many awkward detours and half-finished sentences, he said he would return the letter, and would consider it as cancelling the determination which it contained, and proposed to call on her in the country to-morrow morning to renew his suit. This was faintly opposed. He changed the course of conversation, without insisting on a formal permission or refusal, and then went into the subject of celibacy and matrimony, and passed an hour tête-à-tête. It may be worth noting that, towards the close of the conversation, some one knocked, and that she went out and ordered the servant to deny her, from which it may be inferred that she was not disagreeably engaged, and that she did not wish to be interrupted.
Now, ma Minerve, is not this a very ridiculous posture for so grave an affair? And is not Reubon in a way to be coquetted, with his eyes open? I rather think he erred in giving to the apology of Celeste any other meaning than she literally expressed. Thus he might have compelled her to be more explicit. On the other hand, if she did in fact repent, and so suddenly, it would seem too harsh and fastidious to shut the door against all treaty and negotiation. Upon the whole, however, I conclude that if she wished, for any kind reason, to retreat, she should have gone further, and held out something like encouragement; in short, have met him half way. It may, I know, be replied, that her habits of life and singular education forbid every thing like advance; and that a lady may always presume that her lover, if sincere, will seize the slightest ground for hope; and that, in the logic of love, an equivocal refusal is assent. Certainly, this last interview has been illy managed on the part of Reubon, but I have not yet resolved what to advise. This is left open till morning, when perhaps a word may be added.
Saturday morning.
From the state of things it is obvious that there can, at this hour, be no new fact to communicate; but I have no longer any doubts as to the meaning of the late scene, nor as to the line of conduct to be pursued by Reubon. The note of Celeste is one of those trifling incidents which are too small for calculation, which may have arisen from the trifling motive assigned. Perhaps from a little spirit of coquetry, perhaps a mere piece of sport. He shall, therefore, take no further notice of it; not even to go out this morning to see her, as he had solicited and engaged; and, when he shall next meet her, make some slight apology. Thus the thing is settled.
A. BURR.
TO THEODOSIA.
Philadelphia, June 12, 1803.
I am weary, and so must you be, of this story of Reubon and Celeste. It is, however, closed, and you will, after this letter, hear no more of it.
Reubon agreed to comport himself in the manner advised in my last. Immediately after this determination, Celeste sent a servant to inform him that she was in town! He called to see her; returned the offensive letter, and told her that, as he understood that it was the manner and not the substance of the letter which had induced her to recall it, it would be quite unnecessary for her to take the trouble of writing another. They talked of indifferent matters. Reubon, quite at ease, played the man of the world, and, in my opinion, the man of sense. Before they parted, her face was flushed like a full-blown rose. She begged his permission to destroy the letter, which was certainly a very useless request, considering that the letter was wholly in her power. During the interview, Celeste, having no roses to occupy her hands, twisted off two corners of a pocket-handkerchief.