[Chapter III.]
In which the interview is ended, not much to the lover's satisfaction, but exactly conformable to the rules of romance.
Arabella, when she had pronounced these words, blushed excessively, thinking she had said too much: but, not seeing any signs of extreme joy in the face of Glanville, who was silently cursing Cleopatra, and the authors of those romances that had ruined so noble a mind; and exposed him to perpetual vexations, by the unaccountable whims they had raised—Why are you not gone, said she, while I am in an humour not to repent of the favour I have shown you?
You must excuse me, cousin, said Mr. Glanville, peevishly, if I do not think so highly as you do of the favour. Pray how am I obliged to you for depriving me of the pleasure of seeing you, and sending me on a wild-goose chase, after occasions to justify myself of a crime I am wholly innocent of, and would scorn to commit?
Though, resumed Arabella, with great calmness, I have reason to be dissatisfied with the cool and unthankful manner in which you receive my indulgence, yet I shall not change the favourable disposition I am in towards you, unless you provoke me to it by new acts of disobedience: therefore, in the language of Cleopatra, I shall tell you——
Upon my soul, madam, interrupted Glanville, I have no patience with that rigorous gipsy, whose example you follow so exactly, to my sorrow: speak in your own language, I beseech you; for I am sure neither hers, nor any one's upon earth, can excel it.
Yet, said Arabella, striving to repress some inclination to smile at this sally, notwithstanding your unjust prohibitions, I shall make use of the language of that incomparable lady, to tell you my thoughts; which are, that it is possible you might be sufficiently justified in my apprehensions, by the anxiety it now appears you had for my safety, by the probability which I find in your discourse, and the good opinion I have of you, were it not requisite to make your innocence apparent to the world, that so it might be lawful for Arabella to readmit you, with honour, into her former esteem and friendship.
Mr. Glanville, seeing that it would be in vain to attempt to make her alter her fantastical determination at this time, went out of the closet without deigning to make any reply to his sentence, though delivered in the language of the admirable Cleopatra: but his ill-humour was so visible in his face, that Arabella, who mistook it for an excess of despair, could not help feeling some kind of pity for the rigour which the laws of honour and romance obliged her to use him with. And while she sat meditating upon the scene which had just passed, Mr. Glanville returned to his own room, glad that his sister, not being in Arabella's chamber, where he had left her, had no opportunity of observing his discontent, which she would not fail to enquire the cause of.