“Oh, sir!” again covering my burning face with my hands.
“Come, miss, there’s no need to play the prude with me, is there? You told me once you hated the gentleman; am I to understand that you love him now?”
“Sure, sir, that’s a question should be asked by Mr Fraser himself if your girl is to answer it,” I began, pertly enough, but burst into tears, and cried bitterly, only finding words to entreat my papa to return the money to the Captain, for I could not endure to lie under such an obligation to him. But this Mr Freyne refused, very gently and patiently, pointing out that to return the money would not only disoblige Captain Colquhoun, but also set about again all those injurious rumours which he had been at such pains to silence, and adding that if the Captain could sacrifice the best part of his savings to endow me with the money, I might at least mortify my pride so far as to accept the sacrifice gracefully.
“Though I shall be forced to raise an army to protect this girl of mine,” says my papa, “for after all her adventures (no, miss, I don’t intend it unkindly) hitherto, what will it be now that she’s a fortune as well as a beauty? ’Twill be necessary to fortify the house, questionless, and hire a garrison of buxerries.”[04] (These are the Indian mercenary soldiers that fight for pay.)
This was said while my papa was comforting me with great kindness, and in his rallying style bidding me never again show myself so strange and obstinate as I had during the last two days, for it had cost him so much to be stern with his girl that he could not hope to achieve it a second time. “And indeed,” he said, “we can’t look to find every day a gentleman that’s willing to pay five thousand pounds for the privilege of being refused by Miss Sylvia Freyne, so pray, miss, make sure of your own mind before the next suitor comes.”
“Why, sir,” I said, “’tis my misfortune that I did know my own mind, for sure I must otherwise have been captivated by the justice and nobility of the Captain’s sentiments. But, sir, the dear gentleman has certainly failed in generosity in this one particular of the money, for how can a poor creature that’s crushed under such a weight of obligation ever make proper acknowledgments to him?”
“Nay, there you’re wrong, miss,” says Mr Freyne. “The Captain gave it as his particular request that I should entreat you never to mention the matter in his presence, nor even to hint at it, since otherwise you’ll force him to cease those visits here which are the great happiness of his life.”
Was there ever such a man, Amelia? The kindness, the delicacy of this behaviour—but no, I shall weep again if I write more on this topic, and I have wept so much of late. But there the Captain sits in the varanda with my papa at this moment, and makes his stiff bow and smiles his wooden smile if I interrupt them, as though nothing had happened between now and a week ago.
May ye 11th.
This morning I went to pay a visit to my dear Mrs Hurstwood, whom I have hardly seen for a month. In the very week after her wedding, the dear creature was seized with fever (owing to a chill taken at the Masquerade, said Dr Knox), and as soon as she was a little recovered, her attentive spouse carried her by boat to Ballisore, so that I have lacked her sprightly counsel for some time. I was all eagerness to visit her as soon as I heard she was returned, and my papa having occasion to drive as far as Surman’s, offered to take me with him in the chaise, and fetch me again when he passed in the evening. It so happened that when we reached Mr Hurstwood’s house the good man himself was standing on the steps, about to depart to his business at the Fort, and welcomed us with great warmth, complimenting Mr Freyne on his horses, and declaring that he should no longer be apprehensive for his Charlotte’s cheerfulness since he could leave me to spend the day with her. My papa continued his ride, and Mr Hurstwood carried me to Charlotte’s closet, where she was lying upon a couch. She jumped up on seeing me, and we embraced one another very tenderly, while her worthy spouse rubbed his hands with delight and made us both as many foolish compliments as if he had been Miss Grandison’s Lord G. himself. He displayed a monstrous anxiety lest I should imagine he had neglected or ill-used his Charlotte, which made us both laugh, for indeed I believe if the dear girl had a fancy for the Peacock Throne of Delly he would beggar himself to obtain it for her.