“But I han’t rejected ’em, sir.”
“To accept them, madam, would be even more dreadful. Suppose this person, of whom you have told me, should in time repent of his behaviour, and return to find you married? I am not, I hope, a jealous man, I believe in your virtue beyond all possibility of doubt, but how should I feel to see two young persons, well qualified to make each other happy, condemned to an eternal separation, and all through me? The higher the virtue they displayed the more poignant would be my sufferings. What man of honour could endure such a situation with contentment, even with complacence?”
“Dear sir, you torture me. Tell me what to do, and I’ll obey you.”
“Why, madam, I don’t know myself. I will go back to my quarters and think the matter over, not forgetting to seek guidance where alone it is to be found, as I trust Miss Freyne will do also, and if I see a way out of the trouble I will wait upon you again this evening. Trust me, madam, you shan’t be forced into so repugnant an alliance if I can save you.”
I cried out against his words, but he was gone.
CHAPTER IX.
TREATING OF LOVERS AND FRIENDS.
Calcutta, April ye 28th.
To continue the history, in which I know my dearest Amelia is most painfully interested, I returned to my own chamber after the Captain’s departure, and did my best to comply with his desire, though with little faith, I fear, in the possibility of obtaining an answer to my prayers. For indeed, Amelia, what plan could be devised whereby might be satisfied not only my papa’s punctilio and Captain Colquhoun’s honour, but also the prying eagerness of the scandal-mongers of this place? I told myself that there could be none, and endeavoured to bring my mind into a state of resignation—a task that was rendered far harder by the recollections of Mr Fraser that had persisted in forcing themselves upon me all morning. For this is the worst of my misfortunes, that I can’t fail to perceive in the Captain a nobler spirit and a more obliging disposition than in Fraser, and yet (a plague on Sylvia Freyne’s perversity!) I love the meaner man and not the greater. I scolded myself for this preference. I sought to reason myself out of it, but all in vain, for the whole time I knew that if by some miracle Fraser should return at that very hour, and declare his repentance by the smallest word, or even with a look—aye, perhaps without even that—I should forgive him and love him, not better, that were impossible, but with a far more respectful affection than before. I am fully sensible that many writers, and in especial the ingenious Mr Richardson, would counsel me that ’twas my duty to resist a wilful passion of this sort, and endeavour to uproot it, and I should have hoped to do so, had time been allowed me. ’Tis the entering on new and all-important duties with a mind thus preoccupied that I dread, for fear lest, after all, my efforts should fail. “You can but try,” says everybody; but, my dear, it seems to me an extraordinary grave thing to make this sort of experiment, as I may say, in our lives, whereof we have but one apiece, whether to be gained or lost. For if we lose, what then, Amelia?
Spending my morning in reflections of this sort, my dearest girl will readily guess that when the hour for tiffing arrived I was in no state to make a public appearance. Sending Marianna to beg Mrs Freyne to excuse me from attending her at the meal, I turned over on my couch, and sought to cool my hot face with Hungary water. While thus occupied, in comes my papa.
“What, miss, sullen?” he said angrily, seeing me all in a heap on the couch, with my hair about my face and my cap awry.