In this perplexed situation of mind let us leave her for a while, and see with what sort of temper Mr. Trueworth behaved, after having seen her go to the very woman he had so much conjured her to avoid.
All the love he had for her would not keep him from resenting this last rebuff: he thought he had not deserved such usage; nor that his having professed himself her lover, gave her the privilege of treating him as her slave. The humour he was in making him unfit for company, he went directly to his lodgings; but had not been long there, before it came into his head that, possibly, the manner in which she had behaved was only a fit of contradiction; and that, after all, she might, when she was out of hearing, have given counter-orders to the chairmen, and was neither gone to Miss Forward's, nor would accompany her to the play. With such vain imaginations does love sometimes flatter its votaries; and the sincere and ardent flame which filled the heart of Mr. Trueworth, made him greedily catch at every supposition in favour of the darling object.
Willing, however, to be more assured, he bethought himself of a strategem, which would either relieve all the doubts remaining in him of her obstinacy, or convince him they were but too just. He sent immediately to his barber for a black perriwig; and, muffled up in a cloak, so as to render it almost an impossibility for him to be known by any one, went to the theatre; and, with a heart divided betwixt hope and fear, placed himself in a part of the middle gallery, which had the full command of more than half the boxes. He saw a very brilliant circle; but not she, whom he so much dreaded to find, shine among them.
Having scrutinously examined all within the reach of his view, he quitted his present post, and removed to the other side of the house; where he soon discovered the persons he came in search of. He saw Miss Forward earnest in discourse with a gentleman that sat behind her; and Miss Betsy receiving fruit from another, with the same freedom and gaiety of deportment she could have done if presented by himself. He saw the nods, the winks, and the grimaces, which several in the pit made to each other, when looking towards these two ladies. Every moment brought with it some fresh matter for his mortification; yet would not his curiosity stop here. When the play was ended, he went hastily down stairs, and mingled with the crowd that stood about the door, in hopes of seeing Miss Betsy quit her company, take a chair, and go home. But how cruel a stab was it to a man who loved as he did, to find her go with a dissolute companion and two gentlemen, who, he had reason to believe, by the little he saw of their behaviour, were utter strangers to her, in a hackney-coach. He was once about to appear himself through his disguise, and tell Miss Betsy, that he thought he had more right to the honour of conducting her than those to whom she gave permission; but the greatness of his spirit assisted his prudence in restraining him from so rash an action.
After this sight, it is not in the power of words to represent what it was he felt. Reason was too weak to combat against the force of such various emotions as for a time had the entire possession of his soul; though he thought Miss Betsy unworthy of his love, yet still he loved her; and had she been witness of his present distracted state, she would have seen the power she had over him, no less manifest in the moments of his rage, than in those in which he had behaved with the greatest tenderness and respect.
His good-sense, however, at last convinced him, that as no solid happiness could be expected with a woman of Miss Betsy's temper, he ought to conquer his passion for her. This he resolved to attempt; yet thought, before he did so, it would become him to see her once more, to argue gently with her, and to try, at least, if there were not a possibility of making her see the errors she was guilty of.
With this intent he went the next day to visit her; but, being told she could see no company that day, was going from the door; when Miss Flora, who had watched for him at the parlour-window, came and desired him to walk in. His complaisance would not permit him to refuse her request; and, after the usual compliments, said he was sorry Miss Betsy was so ill. 'You need not be in much pain,' replied she, with a look which he thought had more than ordinary meaning in it; 'she is not greatly indisposed.'—'Perhaps,' cried Mr. Trueworth, with some warmth, 'she is only so to me.'—'I cannot say anything to that,' returned Miss Flora; 'but her orders were in general to all that came; and I believe, indeed, she is not perfectly well. She came home extremely late last night, and seemed in a good deal of disorder.'—'Disorder, Madam!' interrupted Mr. Trueworth, impatiently. 'For Heaven's sake, on what occasion?'—'I wish I could inform you,' answered she; 'but at present I am not favoured with her confidence, though there was a time when I was made partaker of her dearest secrets. I wish those she now intrusts them with may be no less faithful to her than I have been.'—'I hope,' said he, 'she has none which, to be betrayed in, would give her pain.' With these words he rose up to go away. Miss Flora fain would have persuaded him to drink tea: but he excused himself, saying he was engaged; that he came only to enquire after the health of her fair friend, and could not have staid, if so happy as to have seen her.
Scarce could this passionate lover contain himself till he got out of the house. The manner in which Miss Flora had spoke of Miss Betsy, added fresh fuel to the jealousies he was before possessed of: but, how great soever his disturbance was, he found, on his return home, somewhat which made all he had known before seem light and trifling.