The History of Miss Betsy Thoughtless

by Eliza Fowler Haywood

'Oh, Mr. Trueworth!' cried she, as they drew near each other, 'I have prayed that I might live once more to see you; and Heaven has granted my petition!'

'I hope, Madam,' said he, 'that Heaven will always be equally propitious to your desires in things of greater moment.'—'There can scarce be any of greater moment,' answered she; 'for, at present, I have a request to make you of the utmost importance to me, though no more than I am certain you would readily grant to any one you had the least acquaintance with. But,' continued she, 'this is no proper place for us to discourse in. Upon the terms we now are, it can be no breach of faith to the mistress of your vows to step with me, for three minutes, where we may not be exposed to the view of every passenger.'

Mr. Trueworth had not been very well pleased with the rencounter, and would gladly have dispensed with complying with her invitation; but thought, after what she had said, he could not refuse, without being guilty of a rudeness unbecoming of himself as well as cruel to her: yet he did comply in such a manner as might make her see his inclination had little part in his consent. He told her he was in very great haste, but would snatch as much time as she mentioned from the business he was upon. Nothing more was said; and they went together into the nearest tavern; where, being seated, and wine brought in, 'Now, Madam,' said he, with a cold civility, 'please to favour me with your commands.'

'Alas!' replied she, 'it belongs not to me to command, and my request you have already granted.'—'What, without knowing it!' cried he. 'Yes,' resumed she; 'I thought an intimacy, such as ours had been, ought not to have been broke off, without a kind farewel. I blame you not for marrying; yet, sure, I deserve not to be quite forsaken—utterly thrown off: you might at least have flattered me with the hope that, in spite of your matrimonial engagement, you would still retain some sparks of affection for your poor Flora.'—'Be assured,' said he, 'I shall always think on you with tenderness.'—'And can you then resolve never to see me more?' rejoined she passionately. 'I hoped,' replied he, 'that you had acquiesced in the reasons I gave you for that resolution.'—'I hoped so, too,' said she; 'and made use of my utmost efforts for that purpose: but it is in vain; I found I could not live without you; and only wished an opportunity to take one last embrace before I leave the world and you for ever.' In speaking these words, she threw herself upon his neck, and burst into a flood of tears.

How impossible was it for a heart such as Mr. Trueworth's to be unmoved at a spectacle like this! Her love, her grief, and her despair, shot through his very soul. Scarce could he refrain mingling his tears with hers. 'My dear Flora,' cried he, 'compose yourself—by Heaven I cannot bear to see you thus!' He kissed her cheek while he was speaking, seated her in a chair, and held her hand in his with the extremest tenderness.

This wicked creature was not so overcome with the emotions of her love and grief, as not to see the pity she had raised in him; and, flattering herself that there was in it some mixture of a passion she more wished to inspire, fell a second time upon his bosom, crying, 'Oh, Trueworth! Trueworth! here let me die; for death hath nothing in it so terrible as the being separated from you!'

Mr. Trueworth was a man of strict honour, great resolution, and passionately devoted to the most deserving of her sex: yet he was still a man—was of an amorous complexion; and thus tempted, who can answer, but in this unguarded moment he might have been guilty of a wrong to his dear Harriot, for which he would afterwards have hated himself, if an accident of more service to him than his own virtue, in so critical a juncture, had not prevented him.

He returned the embrace she gave, and joined his lips to hers with a warmth which she had not for a long time experienced from him: a sudden rush of transport came at once upon her with such force, that it overwhelmed her spirits, and she fell into a kind of fainting between his arms. He was frightened at the change he observed in her; and hastily cutting the lacings of her stays, to give her air, the letter above-mentioned dropped from her breast upon the ground. He took it up, and was going to throw it upon the table; but in that action seeing the name of Miss Harriot on the superscription, was struck with an astonishment not easy to be conceived. He no longer thought of the condition Miss Flora was in; but, tearing open the letter, he began to examine the contents.

Miss Flora in that instant recovering her senses, and the remembrance of what had been concealed in her bosom, flew to him, endeavouring to snatch the paper from his hands; but he had already seen too much not to be determined to see the rest. 'Stand off!' cried he, in a voice half choaked with fury; 'I am not yet fully acquainted with the whole of the favours you have bestowed upon me in this paper!' Confounded as she was, cunning did not quite forsake her. 'I am ignorant of what it contains,' said she; 'I found it in the street!—It is not mine!—I wrote it not!'

With such like vain pretences would she have pleaded innocence; yet all the time endeavoured, with her whole strength, to force the proof of her guilt from him; insomuch that, though he was very tall, he was obliged with one hand to keep her off, and with the other to hold the paper at arms length, while he was reading it; and could not forbear frequently interrupting himself, to cast a look of contempt and rage on the malicious authoress. 'Vile hypocrite!' cried he: and then again, as he got farther into the base invective, 'Thou fiend in female form!'