At Mrs. Selwyn’s desire, the woman was again called, and interrogated
with
equal art and severity; her confusion was evident, and her answers
often contradictory; yet she still declared she was no impostor. “We
will see that in a minute,” said Mrs. Selwyn; and then desired
Mrs. Clinton might be called up stairs. The poor wretch, changing
colour, would have escaped out of the room; but, being prevented,
dropt on her knees, and implored forgiveness. A confession of the
whole affair was then extorted from her.
Doubtless, my dear Sir, you must remember Dame Green, who was my
first nurse.
The deceit she has practised was suggested, she says, by a conversation
she overheard; in which my unhappy mother besought you, that, if her
child survived her, you would take the sole care of its education;
and, in particular, if it should be a female, you would by no means
part with her in early life. You not only consented, she says, but
assured her you would even retire abroad with me yourself, if my
father should importunately demand me. Her own child, she said,
was then in her arms; and she could not forbear wishing it were
possible to give her the fortune which seemed so little valued for
me. This wish once raised was not easily suppressed; on the contrary,
what at first appeared a mere idle desire, in a short time seemed
a feasible scheme. Her husband was dead, and she had little regard
for any body but her child; and, in short, having saved money for
the journey, she contrived to enquire a direction to my father;
and, telling her neighbours she was going to settle in Devonshire,
she set out on her expedition.
When Mrs. Selwyn asked her how she dared perpetrate such a fraud, she
protested she had no ill designs; but that, as Miss would be never
the worse for it, she thought it pity nobody should be the better.
Her success we are already acquainted with. Indeed everything
seemed to
contribute towards it: my father had no correspondent at Berry Hill;
the child was instantly sent to France; where, being brought up in
as much retirement as myself, nothing but accident could discover
the fraud.
And here let me indulge myself in observing, and rejoicing to
observe, that
the total neglect I thought I met with was not the effect of
insensibility or unkindness, but of imposition and error; and that,
at the very time we concluded I was unnaturally rejected, my deluded
father meant to show me most favour and protection.
He acknowledges that Lady Howard’s letter flung him into some
perplexity: he
immediately communicated it to Dame Green, who confessed it was
the greatest shock she had ever received in her life; yet she had
the art and boldness to assert, that Lady Howard must herself have
been deceived: and as she had, from the beginning of her enterprise,
declared she had stolen away the child without your knowledge, he
concluded that some deceit was then intended him; and this thought
occasioned his abrupt answer.
Dame Green owned, that, from the moment the journey to England
was settled,
she gave herself up for lost. All her hope was to have had her
daughter married before it took place; for which reason she had so
much promoted Mr. Macartney’s addresses; for though such a match was
inadequate to the pretensions of Miss Belmont, she well knew it was
far superior to those her daughter could form after the discovery of
her birth.
My first enquiry was, if this innocent daughter was yet acquainted
with the
affair? “No,” Mrs. Selwyn said; nor was any plan settled how to divulge
it to her. Poor unfortunate girl! how hard is her fate! She is entitled
to my kindest offices, and I shall always consider her as my sister.
I then asked whether my father would again allow me to see him!
“Why, no, my dear, not yet,” answered she; “he declares the sight
of you is
too much for him: however, we are to settle everything concerning
you to-morrow; for this woman took up all our time to-day.”