Suppose you were to write to him, said I: you and he probably may never meet again; and it would be an effort worthy indeed of a noble mind, to repair the wrongs we have done to others, by a candid acknowlegement of our own faults. Putting Mrs Arnold out of the question, ’tis a reparation you owe my character; for however light the world may make of a piece of gallantry with a married woman, it is a matter of serious moment to me to acquit myself of the supposed crime to Sir George Bidulph.
If you think, said she, that my writing to Mr Arnold could produce such good effects, I am ready to do it; though I confess I hardly know how to address him; for he must, to be sure, look upon me as the very reverse of what I really am, and thinks me without dispute an ungrateful woman.
We can but try, said I: if it does not produce the desired effect, it will not be your fault; and you will have the satisfaction to reflect, that you have done your duty. I stepped to my escruitore while I was speaking; and resolving not to give her time to cool, took out pen, ink, and paper, and laid them on a little writing-table before her. If this unlucky breach, said I, were once made up, my mind would then be easy.
She took the pen in her hand, but seemed irresolute, and at a loss how to begin. Come, madam, said I, and confute, by your own example, the received erroneous opinion, that if a woman once strays from the paths of virtue, she never returns to them.
A false and ill-grounded opinion indeed, said she, lifting up her prophane eyes as in penitence. What am I to say? [You are to observe, that my notes, as she went along while I dictated, are put between hooks.] [Begin] ‘Dear Sir’ [for I would neither be too familiar nor too cold], ‘The terms on which you and I have lived, intitles you to an explanation of my reasons for leaving you so abruptly; and I hope the generosity of my motive will incline you to overlook the seeming unkindness of the action.’ [This you may assure yourself it will, when he comes to consider coolly]. ‘The unhappiness that I occasioned in your family, by causing the separation of you and your wife, has, for a long time, been a thorn in my heart; and the more so, as besides the robbing her of your affections, I own, and take shame to myself in the confession’ [how noble must he think this confession!], ‘that those aspersions, which I threw on her, had not the least foundation in truth.’ [This is truly great]. ‘I always believed her perfectly innocent; but, if I could have had the least possible doubt of it before, I must now be confirmed in that opinion by Mr Faulkland, who can have no reason for excusing or concealing facts of this nature from me at present.’ [Here she added of herself, repeating it first aloud to me], ‘and I think the preference he has given me to her, now in her state of separation, is a convincing proof of this.’ [An admirable argument] (her vanity would not let her slip this observation). [Proceed, madam]. ‘The true reasons of my insinuations against her, were no other than that I could not bear to share your affections with any-body’ [and a very sufficient reason too, which a man that loves can easily forgive]. ‘I knew, that so long as she gave you no cause of complaint, you were too just to withdraw your whole heart from her, and nothing but the whole would content me.’ [Still you see you shew a great mind]. True, said she, going on; but my reason for leaving him without apprizing him of it, what are we to say for that? [Oh! nothing more easy to execute: he will admire you the more for the reason I shall give. Come]. ‘My departing without first making you acquainted with my design, and going off with another person, may, at first sight, seem very strange; but, to tell you the real state of my heart, I found I could not trust to its firmness on the subject of parting with you. I loved you so, that it was with pain and grief I made the resolution; and I knew too well, that had you used any arguments, which to be sure you would have done, to dissuade me, I, like an easy fool, would have given up all my good designs.’ [I am only afraid this will make him love you more than ever]. (She smiled as she continued to write). ‘As for the other article’—(This I was more puzzled to excuse than the first; but, putting on a bold face, I said, Madam, I hope you will not condemn me here, while you excuse yourself: the saying you were run away with, will knock all the rest on the head, and he may chuse whether he will believe that you really intended to break off with him or not; therefore that particular had better not be touched upon. Well, said she, get me out of this scrape as cleverly as you have brought me into it. Fear not, said I; go on). ‘As for the other article, though I shall never love Mr Faulkland as I have done you, yet in him I have found a protector; and through his means, I hope to pass the remainder of my life, in a manner more suitable to a woman of a generous way of thinking, than that wherein she considered herself as encroaching on the rights of another. I hope, by this sacrifice which I have made of my love to a more heroic principle, that I shall expiate my former offence; and that you will follow my example so far as to make what reparation you can to the woman we have both injured.’ [How this must raise, how exalt you in his opinion! I think it must, cried she, bridling up her head, as if they were really her own sentiments].
I believe, said I, this is all that is necessary to be said: you may add, in a postscript, that, as he furnished the house for you at Ashby, every thing in it is at his service; together with your chariot and horses, which were also his gifts.
She demurred to this; and in the midst of her heroics, said, I wish I could get somebody to sell them for me privately, and remit the money to me; for, since I am here, I should like to see a little more of France before I return.
I told her that would look mean, and below a great mind. Well, said she, let them go. I owe all my servants a year’s wages, and another person about fifty pounds for a little temple he had just built in my garden, but not quite finished when I came away. I think I had better desire those debts to be discharged: I have always been very punctual in my dealings, and would not for the world wrong anybody.
You are in the right, said I: it will look honourable in you to desire those debts to be paid.
She now proceeded to conclude her letter in the same stile she had begun it, and added a postscript to the purport I mentioned. I hastened to make her seal it up, and direct it to Mr Arnold, at his house in London, who, I suppose, has had the pleasure of receiving it before now; for I dispatched it off directly. I flatter myself with the hope that it will have the desired effect on him.