Sir Henry Hardyman was a Gentleman of a very large Estate in Somersetshire, of a very generous Temper, hospitable almost to Extravagancy; a plain down-right Dealer, wonderfully good-natur’d, but very passionate: Whose Lady dying, left him only a Son and a Daughter; between whom there were about six Years Difference in their Age. Miles Hardyman (for so the Son was call’d) being the eldest; both of naturally virtuous Inclinations, which were carefully improv’d by a generous and pious Education. Miles was a very tall, large, and well-proportion’d Person at Two and Twenty; brave and active, and seem’d to be born for War, tho’ he had a Heart as tender and capable of receiving the Impressions of Love as any of our Sex. He had been bred for some Years at the University; where, among other Things, he learn’d to fence; in which, however, he was mightily improv’d in a Twelvemonth’s Time that he stay’d here in Town. Lucretia, his Sister, was beautiful enough, her Father designing to give ten thousand Pounds with her on Marriage; but (which is above all) she was incomparably good-humour’d.
At his Return to his Father in the Country, young Hardyman found Madam Diana Constance, a most beautiful Lady, with his Sister, at that Time about 16 Years old; somewhat tall of her Age, of happy and virtuous Education, of an indifferent Fortune, not exceeding two thousand Pounds, which was no Way answerable to the Expectations he had after his Father’s Death; but it was impossible he should not love her, she was so prodigiously charming both in her inward and outward Excellencies; especially since he had the Opportunity of conversing with her at his Father’s for above a Month. ’Tis true, he had seen her before, but it was then five Years since. Love her he did then, and that most passionately; nor was she insensible or ungrateful. But our young Lovers had not Discretion enough to conceal the Symptoms of their Passion, which too visibly and frequently sally’d out at their Eyes before the old Gentleman; which made him prudently, as he thought, and timely enough, offer his Daughter Lucretia the Liberty of taking a small Journey with Diana to her House, which was not above 20 Miles thence, where that young Lady’s Aunt govern’d in her Absence; for Diana had no other Relation, so near as she was, living in England, her only Brother Lewis having been in Italy and France ever since her Father dy’d, which was then near five Years past.
Lucretia, over-joy’d at her Father’s pretended Kindness, propos’d it to the young Lady, her Friend, who was very fond of the Proposal, hoping that Lucretia’s Brother might bear ’em Company there for some little Time; but old Sir Henry had quite different Thoughts of the Matter. The third Day, from the first Discourse of it, was assign’d for their Departure. In the mean Time young Hardyman knew not what to think of the Divorce he was going to suffer; for he began to have some Apprehensions that the old Knight was sensible, and displeas’d, that they lov’d each other: Not but that the Family of the Constances was as ancient and honourable as that of Hardymans, and was once endow’d with as plentiful an Estate, tho’ now young Lewis Constance had not above 1200l. a Year. (O the unkind Distance that Money makes, even between Friends!)
Old ’Squire Constance was a very worthy Gentleman, and Sir Henry had a particular Friendship for him; but (perhaps) that dy’d with him, and only a neighbourly Kindness, or something more than an ordinary Respect, surviv’d to his Posterity. The Day came that was to carry ’em to the young Lady Constance’s, and her Lover was preparing to attend ’em, when the old Gentleman ask’d him, What he meant by that Preparation? And whether he design’d to leave him alone? Or if he could think ’twere dutifully or decently done? To which the Son reply’d, That his Care of his Sister, and his Respect to a young Lady, in a Manner a Stranger to him, had misled his Thoughts from that Duty and Regard he ought to have pay’d to his Father, which he hop’d and begg’d he would pardon, tho’ he design’d only just to have seen her safe there, and to have return’d at Night. With this the old Gentleman seem’d pacify’d for the present; and he bid him go take Leave of the Lady; which he did with a great deal of Concern, telling her, that he should be most miserable ’till he had the Happiness of seeing her again; however, he begg’d she would converse with him by Letters, which might (happily) a little palliate his Misfortune in her Absence: Adding, that he would be eternally hers, and none but hers. To which she made as kind a Return as he could wish; letting him know, that she desired to live no longer than she was assur’d that she was belov’d by him. Then taking as solemn a Farewel of her as if he had never been to see her more, after he had given his Sister a parting Kiss or two, he led ’em down to his Father, who saw ’em mounted, and attended by two of his Servants. After which he walked with ’em about a Mile from the House, where he and young Hardyman left ’em to persue their Journey.
In their Return to the House, said Sir Henry, I find, Son, I have hitherto mistaken your Inclinations: I thought they had altogether prompted you to great and manly Actions and Attempts; but, to my Sorrow, I now find my Error. How, I beseech you, Sir? (ask’d the Son.) You are guilty of a foolish lazy Passion, (reply’d the Father) you are in Love, Miles; in Love with one who can no Way advance your Fortune, Family, nor Fame. ’Tis true, she has Beauty, and o’my Conscience she is virtuous too; but will Beauty and Virtue, with a small Portion of 2000l. answer to the Estate of near 4000l. a Year, which you must inherit if you survive me? Beauty and Virtue, Sir, (return’d young Hardyman) with the Addition of good Humour and Education, is a Dowry that may merit a Crown. Notion! Stuff! All Stuff (cry’d the old Knight) Money is Beauty, Virtue, good Humour, Education, Reputation, and high Birth. Thank Heaven, Sir, (said Miles) you don’t live as if you believ’d your own Doctrine; you part with your Money very freely in your House-keeping, and I am happy to see it. ’Tis that I value it for; (reply’d the Father) I would therefore have thee, my Son, add to what in all Likelihood will be thine, so considerably, by Marriage, that thou mayst better deserve the Character of Hospitable Hardyman than thy Father Sir Henry.—Come, Miles, (return’d he) thou shalt think no more on her. I can’t avoid it, Sir, (said t’other.) Well, well, think of her you may, (said Sir Henry) but not as for a Wife; no, if you mean to continue in your Father’s Love, be not in Love with Madam Diana, nor with any of her Nymphs, tho’ never so fair or so chast—unless they have got Store of Money, Store of Money, Miles. Come, come in, we’ll take a Game at Chess before Dinner, if we can. I obey you, Sir, (return’d the Son) but if I win, I shall have the Liberty to love the Lady, I hope. I made no such Promise, (said the Knight) no, no Love without my Leave; but if you give me Checque-Mate, you shall have my Bay Gelding, and I would not take 50 Broad Pieces for him. I’ll do my best, Sir, to deserve him, (said the young Gentleman.) ’Tis a mettl’d and fiery Beast (said Sir Henry.) They began their Game then, and had made about six Moves apiece before Dinner, which was serv’d up near four Hours after they sate down to play. It happen’d they had no Company din’d with ’em that Day; so they made a hasty Meal, and fell again to their former Dispute, which held ’em near six Hours longer; when, either the Knight’s Inadvertency, or the young Gentleman’s Skill and Application, gave him the Victory and Reward.
The next Day they hunted; the Day following, the House was fill’d with Friends, and Strangers; who came with ’em; all which were certain of a hearty Welcome e’er they return’d. Other Days other Company came in, as Neighbours; and none of all that made their Visits, could be dismiss’d under three or four Days at soonest.
Thus they past the Hours away for about six Weeks; in all which Time our Lover could get but one Opportunity of writing to his adorable, and that was by the Means of a Servant, who came with a Letter from his Sister Lucretia to Sir Henry, and another to him, that held one inclos’d to him from the beautiful Diana; the Words, as perfectly as I can remember ’em, were these, or to this Effect:
My Hardyman,
Too Dear!—No,—too much lov’d!—That’s impossible too. How have I enjoy’d my self with your Letters since my Absence from you! In the first, how movingly you lament the unkind Distances of Time and Place that thus divorces you from me! In another, in what tender and prevailing Words your Passion is express’d! In a Third, what invincible Arguments are urg’d to prove the Presence of your Soul to me in the Absence of your Body! A Fourth, how fill’d with just Complaints of a rigorous Father! What Assurances does the Fifth give me of your speedy Journey hither! And the Sixth, (for no less methought I should have receiv’d from you) confirms what you last said to me, That you will ever be mine, and none but mine.—O boundless Blessing!—These (my Life) are the Dreams, which, for six several Nights, have mock’d the real Passion of
Your forgotten Diana.