These considerations were very favourable to Mr. Trueworth: she ran through every particular of that gentleman's character and behaviour, and could find nothing which could make her stand excused, even to herself, for continuing to treat him with the little seriousness she had hitherto done.
'What, then, shall I do with him?' said she to herself. 'Must I at once discard him—desire him to desist his visits, and tell him I am determined never to be his; or must I resolve to think of marrying him, and henceforward entertain him as the man who is really ordained to be one day my husband? I have, at present, rather an aversion, than an inclination to a wedded state; yet if my mind should alter on this point, where shall I find a partner so qualified to make me happy in it? But yet,' continued she, 'to become a matron at my years is what I cannot brook the thoughts of: if he loves me, he must wait; it will be sufficient to receive the addresses of no other; but, then, how shall I refuse those who shall make an offer of them, without giving the world room to believe I am pre-engaged?'
Thus did she argue with herself; the dilemma appeared hard to her: but what was the result of her reasoning, will best appear in the answer she sent to Lady Trusty's letter, which was in the following terms.
'To Lady Trusty.
Madam,
I received the honour of yours, and sincerely thank you for the good wishes and advice contained in it: be assured, Madam, I have a just sense of the value I ought to set upon them, and shall henceforth do the utmost in my power to deserve. I have, indeed, no parent to direct, and but few faithful friends to guide me through the perplexing labyrinth of life. I confess I have been too often misled by the prevalence of example, and my own idle caprice; it is, therefore, the highest charity to shew me to myself. I now see, and am ashamed of, the many inadvertencies I have been guilty of. The dangers which a young woman, like me, must necessarily be continually exposed to, appear to me, from what you say of them, in their proper colours, and convince me, that no person of understanding would condemn me, if, to avoid so many threatened ills, I flew to that asylum your ladyship has mentioned. I will own to you yet farther, Madam; that I am not insensible of the merits of Mr. Trueworth, nor of the advantages which would attend my acceptance of his proposals: but, I know not how it is, I cannot all at once bring myself into a liking of the marriage-state. Be assured of this, that I never yet have seen any man whom my heart has been more inclined to favour; and that, at present, I neither receive, nor desire the addresses of any other. There is no answering for events; but, in the way of thinking I now am, it seems not improbable, that I shall one day comply with what my friends take so much pains in persuading me to. In the mean time, I beseech you to believe I shall regulate my conduct so as to ease you of all those apprehensions you are so good to entertain on my account. I am, with a profound respect, Madam, your ladyship's most obliged and most devoted servant,
E. Thoughtless.'
Miss Betsy also answered her brother's letter at the same time; but the purport of it being much the same with that she wrote to Lady Trusty, there is no occasion for inserting it.
CHAPTER VI
Seems to bring things pretty near a conclusion
Miss Betsy was now in as happy a disposition as any of her friends, or even Mr. Trueworth himself, could desire: she listened to the confirmations he was every day giving her of his passion, with the greatest affability, and much more seriousness and attention than she had been accustomed. The quarrel she had with Miss Flora making her willing to avoid her as much as possible, he was frequently alone with her whole hours together, and had all the opportunities he could wish of cultivating the esteem she made no scruple of confessing she had for him. As Mr. Staple was now gone out of town, pursuant to the resolution he had taken, and no other rival, at least none encouraged by Miss Betsy, had as yet seconded him, he had all the reason in the world to flatter himself, that the accomplishment of his wishes were not far distant.
Plays, operas, and masquerades, were now beginning to come into vogue; and he had the satisfaction to see his mistress refuse whatever tickets were offered her for those diversions, by any of the gentlemen who visited Lady Mellasin; and at the same time readily agreed to accompany him to those, or any other publick entertainments, whenever he requested that favour of her.
Miss Betsy's behaviour in this point, however, had more the air than the reality of kindness to Mr. Trueworth; for, in effect, it was not because she would not accept of tickets from any other person than himself, but because they were offered by gentlemen of Lady Mellasin's acquaintance; and, consequently, in respect to her, Miss Flora had the same invitation, with whom she was determined never more to be seen abroad.
This required some sort of contrivance, to be managed in such a fashion as to give no umbrage to Mr. Goodman or Lady Mellasin; for the former of which she had always a very great esteem, and did not chuse to afford the latter any cause of complaint against her, while she continued to live in the same house. The method she took, therefore, to avoid a thing so disagreeable to her, and at the same time to give no occasion of offence, was always to make choice of one diversion when she knew Miss Flora was pre-engaged to another.
To partake of these pleasures, which Mr. Trueworth, seeing into her temper, was almost every day presenting, she invited sometimes one lady, sometimes another, of those she conversed with; but the person who most frequently accompanied her, was Miss Mabel, a young lady, who lived in the next street, and whom she had been acquainted with ever since her coming to London, but had not been altogether so agreeable to her as she really deserved, and otherwise would have been, if Lady Mellasin and Miss Flora had not represented her as a prying, censorious, ill-natured creature; and, in fine, given her all the epithets which compose the character of a prude.
She was, indeed, both in principles and behaviour, the very reverse of Miss Flora; she was modest, without affectation; reserved, without austerity; chearful, without levity; compassionate and benevolent in her nature; and, to crown all, was perfectly sincere. Miss Betsy had never wanted penetration enough to see, and to admire the amiable qualities of this young lady, nor had been at all influenced by the character given of her by Lady Mellasin and Miss Flora, but being herself of too gay and volatile a temper, the more serious deportment of the other gave somewhat of a check to hers, and for that reason rendered her society less coveted by her. The letter of Lady Trusty, however, joined to the late accidents which had happened, having now given her a turn of mind vastly different from what it had been a very little time before, made her now prefer the conversation of Miss Mabel to most others of her acquaintance.
This young lady having been often in Mr. Trueworth's company, with Miss Betsy, saw enough into him to be assured the passion he professed for her was perfectly honourable and sincere; and as she had a real affection for her fair friend, and thought it a match greatly to her advantage, was perpetually remonstrating to her, that she could not treat with too much complaisance a lover so every way deserving of her.
It is certain, that what she said on this score had some weight with Miss Betsy: Mr. Goodman, also, was every day admonishing her in behalf of Mr. Trueworth, as he thought it his duty so to do, both as her guardian and her friend. In fine, never was a heart more beset, more forced, as it were, into tender sentiments than that of this young lady; first, by the merits and assiduities of the passionate invader, and, next, by the persuasion of all those who she had any reason to believe had her interest in view, and wished to see her happiness established.
Enemy as she was, by nature, to serious reflection, on any account, much more on that of marriage, everything now contributed to compel her to it; she could not avoid seeing and confessing within herself, that if ever she became a wife, the title could not be attended with more felicity than when conferred on her by a person of Mr. Trueworth's fortune, character, and disposition.
She was one day alone, and in a very considerative mood, when a letter was brought to her, which she was told came by the penny-post: