I extorted from him a promise—that, as he was necessitated to meet Mr Morton on business, he would make no allusions to the past—I should be mortified, (I added) by having it supposed, that I stood in need of a champion.—Mr Morton had no doubts of the rectitude of my conduct, and it would be barbarous to involve him in a perpetual domestic warfare.
Mr Montague, at the request of Augustus, spent that day, and the next, with us. I thought, I perceived, that he regarded Mr Harley with a scrutinizing eye, and observed my respect for, and attention to, him, with jealous apprehension. Before his departure, he requested half an hour's conversation with me alone, with which request I immediately complied, and withdrew with him into an adjoining compartment. He informed me—
'That he was going to London to pursue his medical studies—that, on his return, his father had proposed to establish him in his profession—that his prospects were very favourable, and that he should esteem himself completely happy if he might, yet, hope to soften my heart in his favour, and to place me in a more assured and tranquil position.'
I breathed a heavy sigh, and sunk into a melancholy reverie.
'Speak to me, Emma,' said he, with impatience, 'and relieve the anxiety I suffer.'
'Alas! What can I say?'
'Say, that you will try to love me, that you will reward my faith and perseverance.'
'Would to God, I could'—I hesitated—my eyes filled with tears—'Go to London,' resumed I; 'a thousand new objects will there quickly obliterate from your remembrance a romantic and ill-fated attachment, to which retirement, and the want of other impression, has given birth, and which owes its strength merely to opposition.'
'As that opposition,' retorted he, 'is the offspring of pride and insensibility—'
I looked at him with a mournful air—'Do not reproach me, Montague, my situation is far more pitiable than yours. I am, indeed, unhappy,'—added I, after a pause; 'I, like you, am the victim of a raised, of, I fear, a distempered imagination.'