Miss Grandison came to me just as we had supped. She longed, she said, to see me; but was prevented coming before, and desired to know what had passed between her brother and me this morning. I gave her the letter, which I had but a little while before concluded. He had owned, she said, that he had breakfasted with me, and spoke of me to her, and Lord and Lady L—— with an ardor, that gave them pleasure. She put my letter into her bosom. I may, I hope, Harriet—If you please, madam, said I.
If you please, madam, repeated she; and with that do-lo-rous accent too, my Harriet!—My sister and I have been in tears this morning: Lord L—— had much ado to forbear. Sir Charles will soon leave us.
It can't be helped, Charlotte. Did you dine to-day in St.
James's-square?
No, indeed!—My brother had a certain tribe with him; and the woman also. It is very difficult, I believe, Harriet, for good people to forbear doing sometimes more than goodness requires of them.
Could you not, Charlotte, have sat at table with them for one hour or two?
My brother did not ask me. He did not expect it. He gives every body their choice, you know. He told me last night who were to dine with him to-day, and supposed I would choose to dine with Lady L——, or with you, he was so free as to say.
He did us an honour, which you thought too great a one. But if he had asked you, Charlotte—
Then I should have bridled. Indeed, I asked him, if he did not over-do it?
What was his answer?
Perhaps he might—But I, said he, may never see Mrs. Oldham again. I want to inform myself of her future intentions, with a view (over-do it again, Charlotte!) to make her easy and happy for life. Her children are in the world. I want to give her a credit that will make her remembered by them, as they grow up, with duty. I hope I am superior to forms. She is conscious. I can pity her. She is a gentlewoman; and entitled to a place at any man's table to whom she never was a servant. She never was mine.