You will have the occasion, in the course of the month you are to pass with Madame Duval, for all the circumspection and prudence you can call to your aid. She will not, I know, propose any thing to you which she thinks wrong herself; but you must learn not only to judge but to act for yourself; if any schemes are started, any engagements made, which your understanding represents to you as improper, exert yourself resolutely in avoiding them; and do not, by a too passive facility, risk the censure of the world, or your own future regret.
You cannot too assiduously attend to Madame Duval herself; but I would wish you to mix as little as possible with her associates, who are not likely to be among those whose acquaintance would reflect credit upon you. Remember, my dear Evelina, nothing is so delicate as the reputation of a woman; it is at once the most beautiful and most brittle of all human things.
Adieu, my beloved child; I shall be but ill at ease till this month is elapsed.
A.V.
LETTER 40
EVELINA TO THE REV. MR. VILLARS
London, June 6.
Once more, my dearest Sir, I write to you from this great city. Yesterday morning, with the truest concern, I quitted the dear inhabitants of Howard Grove, and most impatiently shall I count the days till I see them again. Lady Howard and Mrs. Mirvan took leave of me with the most flattering kindness; but indeed I knew not how to part with Maria, whose own apparent sorrow redoubled mine. She made me promise to send her a letter every post: and I shall write to her with the same freedom, and almost the same confidence, you allow me to make use of to yourself.
The Captain was very civil to me: but he wrangled with poor Madame Duval to the last moment; and, taking me aside, just before we got into the chaise, he said, “Hark’ee, Miss Anville, I’ve a favour for to ask of you, which is this; that you will write us word how the old gentlewoman finds herself, when she sees it was all a trick; and what the French lubber says to it, and all about it.”
I answered that I would obey him, though I was very little pleased with the commission, which, to me, was highly improper; but he will either treat me as an informer, or make me a party in his frolic.
As soon as we drove away, Madame Duval, with much satisfaction, exclaimed, “Dieu merci, we’ve got off at last! I’m sure I never desire to see that place again. It’s a wonder I’ve got away alive; for I believe I’ve had the worst luck ever was known, from the time I set my foot upon the threshold. I know I wish I’d never a gone. Besides, into the bargain, it’s the most dullest place in all Christendom: there’s never no diversions, nor nothing at all.”
Then she bewailed M. Du Bois; concerning whose adventures she continued to make various conjectures during the rest of our journey.
When I asked her what part of London she should reside in, she told me that Mr. Branghton was to meet us at an inn, and would conduct us to a lodging. Accordingly, we proceeded to a house in Bishopsgate Street, and were led by a waiter into a room where we found Mr. Branghton.
He received us very civilly; but seemed rather surprised at seeing me, saying, “Why, I didn’t think of your bringing Miss; however, she’s very welcome.”
“I’ll tell you how it was,” said Madame Duval: “you must know I’ve a mind to take the girl to Paris, that she may see something of the world, and improve herself a little; besides, I’ve another reason, that you and I will talk more about. But, do you know, that meddling old parson, as I told you of, would not let her go: however, I’m resolved I’ll be even with him; for I shall take her on with me, without saying never a word more to nobody.”
I started at this intimation, which very much surprised me. But, I am very glad she has discovered her intention, as I shall be carefully upon my guard not to venture from town with her.
Mr. Branghton then hoped we had passed our time agreeably in the country.
“O Lord, cousin,” cried she, “I’ve been the miserablest creature in the world! I’m sure all the horses in London sha’n’t drag me into the country again of one while: why, how do you think I’ve been served? — only guess.”
“Indeed, cousin, I can’t pretend to do that.”
“Why then I’ll tell you. Do you know I’ve been robbed! — that is, the villain would have robbed me if he could, only I’d secured all my money.”
“Why, then cousin, I think your loss can’t have been very great.”
“O Lord, you don’t know what you’re a saying; you’re talking in the unthinkingest manner in the world: why, it was all along of not having no money that I met with that misfortune.”
“How’s that, cousin? I don’t see what great misfortune you can have met with, if you’d secured all your money.”
“That’s because you don’t know nothing of the matter: for there the villain came to the chaise; and, because we hadn’t got nothing to give him, though he’d no more right to our money than the man in the moon, yet, do you know, he fell into the greatest passion ever you see, and abused me in such a manner, and put me in a ditch, and got a rope o’purpose to hang me; — and I’m sure, if that wasn’t misfortune enough, why I don’t know what is.”
“This is a hard case, indeed, cousin. But why don’t you go to Justice Fielding?”
“O as to that, I’m a going to him directly; but only I want first to see M. Du Bois; for the oddest thing of all is, that he has wrote to me, and never said nothing of where he is, nor what’s become of him, nor nothing else.”
“M. Du Bois! why, he’s at my house at this very time.”
“M. Du Bois at your house! well, I declare this is the surprisingest part of all: However, I assure you, I think he might have comed for me, as well as you, considering what I have gone through on his account; for, to tell you the truth, it was all along of him that I met with that accident; so I don’t take it very kind of him, I promise you.”
“Well, but cousin, tell me some of the particulars of this affair.”
“As to the particulars, I’m sure they’d make your hair stand on end to hear them; however, the beginning of it all was through the fault of M. Du Bois: but, I’ll assure you, he may take care of himself in future, since he don’t so much as come to see if I’m dead or alive. — But, there, I went for him to a justice of peace, and rode all out of the way, and did every thing in the world, and was used worser than a dog, and all for the sake of serving of him; and now, you see, he don’t so much — well, I was a fool for my pains. — However, he may get somebody else to be treated so another time; for, if he’s taken up every day in the week, I’ll never go after him no more.”
This occasioned an explanation; in the course of which Madame Duval, to her utter amazement, heard that M. Du Bois had never left London during her absence! nor did Mr. Branghton believe that he had ever been to the Tower, or met with any kind of accident.
Almost instantly the whole truth of the transaction seemed to rush upon her mind, and her wrath was inconceivably violent. She asked me a thousand questions in a breath; but, fortunately, was too vehement to attend to my embarrassment, which must otherwise have betrayed my knowledge of the deceit. Revenge was her first wish; and she vowed she would go the next morning to Justice Fielding, and inquire what punishment she might lawfully inflict upon the Captain for his assault.
I believe we were an hour at Bishopsgate Street before poor Madame Duval could allow any thing to be mentioned but her own story; at any length, however, Mr. Branghton told her, that M. Du Bois, and all his own family,