In furthest Ind

by Sydney C. Grier

Now in pursuance of this resolve of mine, I did determine to watch and study Dorothy, and so to perceive how I might best recommend myself to her favour. And with this view I did take care to spend great part of my time in company with her and Mrs Skipwith, hearing from them of all the changes that had took place since my departure, and telling them such things as they desired to know touching East India and my travels there. But since I had begun this procedure as a matter of calculation and prudence, I was surprised, when no long time had passed, to find myself hanging upon my cousin’s least word, and seizing every occasion of offering myself as her cavaliero. And perceiving this, I was startled. “Can this,” says I to myself, “be all repentance towards Dorothy for my former hard usage of her? and if it ben’t that, what is’t? Come now,” says I, “let me examine and see how I should regard her were I but to fall in with her in company as a stranger, and what resentiments I should entertain towards her.”

And this I set myself to do, but in the course on’t Dorothy did discover so many new beauties, both of person and of heart, that I was long in the doing; but setting down coldly all my observations, this is the sum of them. She was of an excellent middle stature, neither low nor over-high, and in all her motions an easy sprightliness that compared well even with the slow grace of Madam Heliodora. Her eyes was dark, bright, and piercing, her hair not far removed from black, her complexion of the last degree of loveliness, mingling, as it did, the pleasing tints of the lily and the rose. But you could not rightly admire her features for your admiration of the mind that informed them, and rather than her face you would observe her mien of sweet contentment, such as a good conscience and a worthy life alone can furnish, though overspread with an air of chastened melancholy, which did but contribute to enhance her charms.

And this also I perceived during this time, that whereas Mrs Skipwith was never backward to ask questions of me, and likewise to pass her judgment on those things I told her, Dorothy spake little, but such words as she did say, was marked with such sense and gravity as did charm me mightily, reminding me at first of Madam Heliodora. But I soon perceived a great difference between these two ladies, yet such as wrought in no way to the disadvantage of either. For Madam Heliodora had been wont to utter her thought in its fulness, with a certain noble modesty, and yet with assurance, as knowing it was well worth our hearing, and that she had the right to say all she desired; but with Dorothy I had always the belief that she uttered only some small portion of her thought, and that there was much more behind, the which ’twould indeed enrich me to hear, could I but win upon her to give it forth. But this with all my art I could not attain unto, which did tease and allure me mightily, making me cry to myself, “Sure how happy will be that person to whom Dorothy shall open her whole heart!” and more and more did I learn to desire that it might fall to me to be that person.

But, strange though it may appear to you, the more I grew to value at their proper price my cousin’s beauties of mind and heart, the further from her I seemed to be,—nay, I was become so low and mean in my own sight, that that proposition which I had designed to make her, and which I had postponed on my first returning, lest the coldness on’t should shock her sensibilities, seemed now to me so rude and insulting as I might not dare to offend her ears therewith. For, says I to myself, how can I say calmly to such a woman as this, that I have wasted the best part of my life in a passion for that which belonged to another, and that all love is dead in my heart, and yet ask her to share with me my dignity and wealth, out of consideration for an ancient contract that I myself was the first to set aside? Sure ’twere profaneness and sacrilege to speak to a creature like this of marriage without love. Let me rather, says I, try to discover what manner of life, and shared with what person, she should esteem most to her taste, and endeavour to secure it for her, and then live out the remainder of my lonely existence happy in her happiness. But the more I reasoned thus with myself, the more I felt that that ideal or phantasm of wedded life that had presented itself to me at Surat was the only thing that could promise me earthly happiness, and that, without Dorothy were mine, this ideal could never be. And though I chid my foolish heart almost hourly, demanding on’t now how I could be so insensible as not to love a creature of such transcendent excellence, and now how could I expect to love her when love and the power thereof was dead within me, yet my resentiments were never a whit diminished in this way, but rather increased, so that I walked abroad daily in a mighty turmoil and confusion of mind, until that chanced which confirmed the fear that had been aroused in my heart by Mr Sternhold’s words on our first meeting.

For ’twas my custom at this time to ride over a certain part of my estates every day, visiting the farmers and cottagers and making myself known to ’em, and everywhere I received the greatest kindness and a prodigious warm welcome, and many also, hearing that I wan’t wedded to any gentlewoman in foreign parts, believed me to be returned with the intent to marry Dorothy, and so encouraged me thereto, heaping many blessings on her head. Now one afternoon, when I was returning from such a visit as this, I felt a desire for solitude and communing with myself, and so sent my horse back to Ellswether by Loll Duss, that rid after me, and walked on by myself. But I wan’t doomed to enjoy my solitude long, for scarce had I walked a quarter of a mile before I heard the sound of wheels in the mire, and looking back, saw a neat coach come along behind me, with a lady beckoning to me with her fan from the window on’t. And I going to see what she would have with me, found her to be my ancient acquaintance, Mrs Packworth, and with her Mrs Sternhold her mother, and not having yet seen either of these gentlewomen since my return, save only in church, they did desire of me to come into the coach with ’em, and they would carry me home, while I told them concerning myself and my travels. And this I wan’t by no means loath to do, finding my single meditations little comforting, and so entered the coach and sat opposite to them, and for a time we were very merry, the two gentlewomen asking me questions, and I answering them.

And when all their questions was done, I said to them that ’twas my turn to ask, and they consenting that this was only fair, I did begin; but no sooner had I touched, though in the most delicate way imaginable, upon Dorothy, than Mrs Sternhold looked upon me as though grieved and astonished for the hardness of my heart, and Mrs Packworth seemed all at once to become angry and contemptuous of me.

“Come, sir,” says she, “sure you need discover no interest in Mrs Brandon, for we all know that you have resigned all pretension to her.”

“Sisley, my dear daughter!” says her mother, but Mrs Packworth would not agree to withdraw from her position. “An’t it true?” she says to me.

“Madam,” says I, “perhaps you’ll allow me, speaking in confidence, to say that ’tis possible for any person to repent of his early sins and follies, and, having been duly punished for ’em, to do his best to amend ’em.”

“I presume, sir, that Mrs Brandon’s inclinations will carry some weight in such a matter?” cries she, just as had her father.