'To the most wonderful of her sex, the incomparable Miss Betsy Thoughtless.
Divine charmer,
Though I designed myself the inexpressible pleasure of kissing your fair hands this evening, I could not exist till then without telling you how much I adore you: you are the empress of my heart, the goddess of my soul! the one loves you with the most loyal and obedient passion, the other regards you as the sole mover and director of all its motions. I cannot live without you; it is you alone can make me blest, or miserable. O then pronounce my doom, and keep me not suspended between heaven and hell. Words cannot describe the ardency of my flame; it is actions only that can do it. I lay myself, and all that I am worth, an humble offering at your feet. Accept it, I beseech you; but accept it soon; for I consume away in the fire of my impatient wishes; and, in a very short time, there will be nothing left for you but the shadow of the man who is, with the most pure devotion, Madam, your beauty's slave, and everlasting adorer,
F. Fineer.'
'Good lack!' cried Miss Betsy, 'he is in a great haste, too; but I fancy he must wait a while, as many of better sense have done. What a romantick jargon is here! One would think he had been consulting all the ballads since fair Rosamond, and the Children in the Wood, for fine phrases to melt me into pity!'
She wondered, as indeed she had good reason, that a man of his birth, and who, it must be supposed, had an education suitable to it, should express himself in such odd terms; but then she was tempted to imagine, that it was only his over-care to please her that had made him stretch his wit beyond it's natural extent, and that if he had loved her less, he would have been able to have told her so in a much better stile. Possessed with this fancy, 'What a ridiculous thing this love is!' said she; 'What extravagancies does it sometimes make men guilty of! yet one never sees this madness in them after they become husbands. If I were to marry Sir Frederick, I do not doubt but he would soon recover his senses.'
How does a mind, unbroke with cares and disappointments, entirely free from passion, and perfectly at peace with itself, improve, and dwell on every thing that affords the least matter for its entertainment? This young lady found as much diversion in anticipating the innocent pranks she intended to play with the authors of these two letters, as an infant does in first playing with a new baby, and afterwards plucking it to pieces; so true is the observation of the poet, that—
'All are but children of a larger growth.'
But this sprightliness of humour in Miss Betsy soon received a sad and sudden interruption: having sent, as she constantly did every day, to enquire after the health of Mr. Goodman, her servant returned with an account, that he had expired that morning. Though this was an event, which she, and all who knew him, had expected for some time, yet could she not be told of the death of a gentleman, under whose care and protection she so long had been, and who had behaved in all respects so like a parent towards her, without being very deeply affected with the news; she was then at dinner, but threw down her knife and fork, rose from the table, and retired to her chamber and wept bitterly: the more violent emotions of grief were soon assuaged, but her melancholy and dejection of spirits continued much longer; and, while they did so, she had the power of making the most just reflections on the vain pursuits, the fleeting pleasures, and all the noise and hurry of the giddy world. Love, and all the impertinences which bear that name, now appeared only worthy of her contempt; and, recollecting that Sir Frederick had mentioned visiting her that evening, she sent a servant immediately to Mrs. Modely's, desiring her to acquaint that gentleman, that she had just lost a very dear friend, and was in too much affliction to admit of any company.
This being the day on which Mr. Francis Thoughtless was expected to be in London, this affectionate sister perceiving, by his last letter to her, that his health was not perfectly established, was under a very great concern, lest he should be put to some inconvenience by Mr. Goodman's death, for a proper lodging on his first arrival; but she soon found her tender fears, on this occasion, altogether groundless.
Those objections which had hindered Mr. Thomas Thoughtless from taking her into his family, had not the same weight in relation to Mr. Francis, whose sex set him above meddling with those domestick concerns, the command of which he had given to another; and his reputation would suffer nothing by being under the same roof with the mistress of his brother's amorous inclinations.
He went to the inn where he knew the L——e stage puts up, welcomed Mr. Francis with open arms, as soon as he alighted from the coach, and gave him all the demonstrations of brotherly affection that the place they were in would admit of; then conducted him to his house, and insisted that he should not think of any other home, till he was better provided for, and settled in the world.
A servant belonging to the elder Mr. Thoughtless was immediately dispatched to Miss Betsy, with a letter from the younger; and it was from this man that she received the agreeable intelligence, that the two brothers were together. The terms in which Mr. Francis wrote to her were these—