How unreasonable are Sir George’s prejudices with regard to this unhappy young creature! He is for ever throwing out some invective against her. It is cruel; but I am tempted to forgive him, as I know it proceeds from his attachment to his friend. He need not put me in mind of the gratitude I owe Mr Faulkland; I am thoroughly sensible of it; but Sir George and I differ widely in our ideas of expressing this gratitude. My conduct in this affair is to determine him as to the light in which he is hereafter to consider me. Why, be it so. He has long lost the tenderness of a brother for me; I will not regain it at the expence of my honour. I know the worst that can befall me is poverty. I have already experienced almost every possible ill in life but that, and for that I am prepared. But I will not call myself poor while I have an upright heart to support me; and the means, poor and despicable as they are, of sustaining life. But what do I call despicable? Have I not an estate, my dear, a whole fifty pounds a year, that I can call my own? This much was reserved to me out of my jointure when the rest was sold; and on this, whenever it pleases heaven to take my mother away, will I retire to some cottage in a cheap country, where my two children and I will live, and smile at the rich and the great.
My brother’s letter has vexed and disgusted me exceedingly. Lady Sarah presents her service. Vain woman! is that a becoming phrase to the mother of her husband? I am so provoked, I think I shall not answer him: he has no relish for such arguments as I could produce in support of my own opinions, and my writing to him would only bring on disagreeable altercations. My mother is in a downright passion with him: Selfish wretch! she called him; and said, he would sacrifice both honour and justice to his own pride. /* July 19 */ Miss Burchell; poor soul, how I pity her! Her anxiety increases every hour. She, you may be sure, keeps a look-out on all Mr Faulkland’s motions; for, she tells me, she hears he is arrived in town. I suppose I shall receive a notice of some kind or other from him. The unhappy girl; she grieves me to see her! There was never so extravagant a love as her’s: she has nourished it in solitude, and I believe has a heart naturally tender to an uncommon degree; otherwise she could not, for so long a time, and with so little hopes, have preserved so undiminished a fondness; but some accidents have, I know not how, combined to feed this flame. She acknowleges that Mr Faulkland’s being disappointed in espousing me, gave the first encouragement to her hopes; for, she said, she had reason to believe that I was the only woman in the world that stood between her and her happiness; and Mr Faulkland’s remaining single ever since, confirmed her in that opinion. Then the generous attention that he paid to her welfare, in recommending her to my mother’s notice, when he first left England; the noble supplies that he constantly furnished her with ever since for the child’s use; his behaviour to Mrs Gerrarde, who, she says, is the most ensnaring of creatures; the tender manner that he mentioned her in his letter to my brother; my mother’s constantly indulging her in the belief that she would one day recover Mr Faulkland’s affections: all these circumstances, I say, joined together, have kept alive the warmest and most romantic love I ever saw or heard of. Well may the men say, that forsaken women are always the most passionate lovers: it may be so, and Miss Burchell is one instance of the truth of this observation; but I think I should never make another. There is something to me unaccountable in this; but Miss Burchell is all made up of languishments and softness. I have heard her speak of Mr Faulkland in so rapturous a strain as has amazed me; and she once owned to me, that she is sure she must have died, if he had not returned her love! Return it! Ah! my Cecilia, how did he return it? How mortifying is her situation! to be compelled to court the man who flies her, and to make use of a rival’s mediation too! but let me forget that name; I am no longer so to her, and shall do my best to prove it. She wearied me with importunities to write to Mr Faulkland, now he is come to town; but I beseeched her to have a little patience, till some overture was first made by him toward a renewal of our acquaintance, which, I told her, it was very probable I should soon receive. You may be sure I took care not to let her know of the intimation I had from Sir George. She seems fearful of my seeing Mr Faulkland. Oh! madam, said she, if he beholds your face again, I am undone, unless you can first prevail with him—She stopped. ‘I understand you, dear Miss Burchell; I give you my word I will not see Mr Faulkland, unless I am first convinced I can restore him to you.’ ‘How good you are, madam! your influence, all potent as it is, can work miracles. If Mr Faulkland is sure you will never be his, perhaps he may return to his first love.’ My dear, ought she to have said so? But it is no matter; it is nothing to me now, who was his first or second love.
July 20
It has happened to my wish; a billet from Mr Faulkland, sent with compliments and how-do-ye’s, to my mother and me. Miss Burchell, who almost lives with us, was present when I received it: her colour came and went several times while our servant delivered his message. I gave the letter into her hand as soon as I had read it. There is nothing alarming in it, madam, said I; see yourself; only a few friendly lines, such as I might expect. Her hands shook while she held the paper. Now, madam, said she, returning it; now you have a charming opportunity of writing to him. I shall not fail, said I, to make use of it, and will let you see what I write.
These are the contents of Mr Faulkland’s letter:
Will you, madam, permit a forgotten, though not the least zealous of your friends, to enquire after your welfare? Forgive me, if I renew your grief, when I tell you, that, as I must participate in every thing that relates to you, I have deeply mourned with you on the late calamity that has befallen you. When Lady Bidulph opens her doors to her general acquaintance; if I may presume to mingle in the crowd, and kiss her hands, I shall esteem it as a particular honour; but will not, without her permission, attempt it. She is too good to refuse me this indulgence: you, madam, I hope, will not forbid it to
Yes, Orlando, I must forbid you; I know the consequences of thy insidious visits. I’ll try you to the quick. You have given me an opportunity of writing to you (I think) without any impropriety. Miss Burchell’s interest is uppermost in my wishes, and I will at least try what my influence on this romantic wayward heart can effect.
How happy should I think myself, if my mediation, all potent as she called it, would have the desired success!
July 21
I wrote to Mr Faulkland last night: my mother approved of the letter, which I shewed her before I sent it. Mr Faulkland was abroad when it was left at his house; but as I received an answer to it early this morning, I will give you copies of the two letters together; and first that of mine to Mr Faulkland.