As he had taken care, at his entrance, to accommodate his looks to the character he had assumed of an humble despairing lover, Arabella no sooner saw him, than her countenance changed; and, making a sign to Mr. Glanville, who could not comprehend what she meant, to seize upon the guard of his sword, she hastily stepped forward to meet him.
I am too well convinced, said she to Sir George, that the intent of your coming hither to-day is to commit some violence against yourself before my eyes: but listen not, I beseech you, to the dictates of your despair. Live; I command you, live; and since you say I have the absolute disposal of your life, do not deprive yourself of it, without the consent of her on whom you profess to have bestowed it.
Sir George, who did not imagine Arabella would communicate his letter to her cousins, and only expected some distant hints from her concerning it, was so confounded at this reception before them, that he was not able to reply. He blushed, and turned pale alternately; and, not daring to look either upon Miss Glanville or her brother, or to meet the eyes of the fair visionary, who with great impatience expected his answer, he hung down his head, in a very silly posture; and, by his silence, confirmed Arabella in her opinion.
As he did not want for wit and assurance, during that interval of silence and expectation from all parties, his imagination suggested to him the means of extricating himself out of the ridiculous perplexity he was in; and as it concerned him greatly to avoid any quarrel with the brother and sister, he determined to turn the whole matter into a jest; but, if possible, to manage it so that Arabella should not enter into his meaning.
Raising therefore his eyes, and looking upon Arabella with a melancholy air—
You are not deceived, madam, said he: this criminal, with whom you are so justly offended, comes with an intention to die at your feet, and breathe out his miserable life, to expiate those crimes of which you accuse him: but since your severe compassion will oblige me to live, I obey, O most divine, but cruel Arabella! I obey your harsh commands; and, by endeavouring to live, give you a more convincing proof of that respect and submission I shall always have for your will.
I expected no less from your courage and generosity, said Arabella, with a look of great complacency; and since you so well know how to imitate the great Lysimachus in your obedience, I shall be no less acknowledging than the fair Parisatis; but will have for you an esteem equal to that virtue I have observed in you.
Sir George, having received this gracious promise with a most profound bow, turned to Mr. Glanville, with a kind of chastened smile upon his countenance.
And you, fortunate and deserving knight, said he, happy in the affections of the fairest person in the world! grudge me not this small alleviation of my misfortunes; and envy me not that esteem which alone is able to make me suffer life, while you possess, in the heart of the divine Arabella, a felicity that might be envied by the greatest monarchs in the world.
As diverting as this scene was, Mr. Glanville was extremely uneasy: for though Sir George's stratagem took, and he believed he was only indulging the gaiety of his humour by carrying on this farce, yet he could not endure he should divert himself at Arabella's expense. The solemn speech he had made him, did indeed force him to smile; but he soon assumed a graver look, and told Sir George, in a low voice, that when he had finished his visit, he should be glad to take a turn with him in the garden.