I had just taken the child on my lap. 'Yes,' said I: 'and you Arabella must live to see her possess it. My motives are not those of curiosity. I come to do you service; and I insist that you hope for better days. It shall be my part to devise better means than marriage for Mr. Davenport. I intend shortly to visit you again.'
I could not converse with Mr. Davenport any more that day, for it was necessary I should return and prepare myself to be partaker of a very splendid entertainment given by Sir Thomas Barlowe to all the fashionable people at Bath. I therefore engaged him to visit me again the next morning, and we separated.
Making mention of the entertainment brings Mr. Murden to my remembrance; and, as he played a part that very evening which attracted much notice and gave rise to speculation, I shall here relate it before I return to the subject of Mr. Davenport.
Ever since Mr. Murden joined us at Bath I have heard from his female acquaintance perpetual complaints of him. He was, they say, seducing, irresistible. No vivacity was ever so delicate as Murden's. No flattery ever so dangerous as from him. His look, his air, his voice, his gestures, all had their own peculiar character of persuasion. Thus captivating they say he was; and they lament, with all the energy of which they are capable, that he should now have become dull, lifeless and unbearable. I too, Sibella, have found him transformed. I see him negligent and inattentive to me and others; but he is neither dull nor lifeless. Some vision of imagination seems to possess him, to infuse into him as it were a new existence. I have seen his cheek glow, his eye beam. I have heard his breathings but half uttered; and, although at such moments I have suffered inconvenience from the want of his attention and assistance, I would rather have placed my safety in hazard than have disturbed his alluring dreams of fancy. So firmly has he become inaccessible to the temptations of dissipation and sensuality, that I revere his transformation and long for his confidence; but alas, I have to regret that he is secret and mysterious, and that while at Bath he has avoided me almost as constantly as he has neglected those damsels of fashion who have been calling forth all their enchantments to attract or subdue him.
To my great surprise, and some little satisfaction, no sooner was the Nabob's ball in preparation than Mr. Murden requested to be my partner. He had never danced here, though he had been frequently at the rooms; and I did expect to be honoured on this occasion by my fair friends with some very scornful looks and important whispers.—Hear the result.
The company assembled, a numerous and brilliant party. I had caught a previous glimpse of Mr. Murden elegantly dressed, and I expected every moment his appearance in the ball-room. That I was engaged I answered to several invitations; but to whom was yet in embryo, for the first, second, third and fourth minuet had been danced, and yet no partner for me appeared.
At length he came, but not with the smile of pleasure, not with the soft tread of politeness, the complacent mien of attention. No: he actually rushed upon us, his features almost distorted with some species of passion, his hair deranged, and the powder showered on his dress as if he had been dashing his head against some hard substance in a paroxysm of rage. And in this strange manner did he, with eager long strides, cross the saloon, and throw himself into the vacant seat beside me, uttering a deep groan.
The eyes of every one were upon him; and astonishment imposed silence on every tongue. 'Miss Ashburn! Miss Ashburn!' repeated he twice very loud; then closed his teeth and murmured through them some words I could not understand, and several horrid imprecations. He sat thus a few minutes, his countenance varying from the deepest red to a most livid paleness, when Sir Thomas approached. 'Why, nephew! why Arthur! what, what, are you ill?—are you——?' and, without finishing his speech, the baronet retired abruptly; for Murden gnashing his teeth at that instant his uncle conceived he was mad; and I believe the baronet was scarce assured he had escaped the infection.
A bolder man now walked up. No less than the Earl of Ulson, of whom you have heard me speak. ''Pon my soul, Murden, this is superlatively unusual! The ladies are actually terrified. Zounds! Murden, you must——'
We had not the good fortune to hear his lordship's advice to the end: for Mr. Murden, utterly inattentive to any thing but his own agitations, now snatched a crumpled letter from his pocket; and, tearing it into a thousand pieces, dashed the fragments on the floor. He there contemplated them a moment with a malignant smile; then carefully gathered up every fragment, and darted out of the room.