“Have not you been ill since I saw you?” said his Lordship, again addressing himself to me.
“Yes, my Lord.”
“I thought so; you are paler than you was, and I suppose that’s the reason I did not recollect you sooner.”
“Has not your Lordship too much gallantry,” cried Mrs. Selwyn, “to discover a young lady’s illness by her looks?”
“The devil a word can I speak for that woman,” said he, in a low voice; “do, prithee, Jack, take her in hand.”
“Excuse me, my Lord,” answered Mr. Coverley.
“When shall I see you again?” continued his Lordship; “do you go to the pump-room every morning?”
“No, my Lord.”
“Do you ride out?”
“No, my Lord.”
Just then we arrived at the pump-room, and an end was put to our conversation, if it is not an abuse of words to give such a term to a string of rude questions and free compliments.
He had not opportunity to say much more to me, as Mrs. Selwyn joined a large party, and I walked home between two ladies. He had, however, the curiosity to see us to the door.
Mrs. Selwyn was very eager to know how I had made acquaintance with this nobleman, whose manners so evidently announced the character of a confirmed libertine. I could give her very little satisfaction, as I was ignorant even of his name: but, in the afternoon, Mr. Ridgeway, the apothecary, gave us very ample information.
As his person was easily described, for he is remarkably tall, Mr. Ridgeway told us he was Lord Merton, a nobleman who is but lately come to his title, though he has already dissipated more than half his fortune; a professed admirer of beauty, but a man of most licentious character; that among men, his companions consisted chiefly of gamblers and jockeys, and among women he was rarely admitted.
“Well, Miss Anville,” said Mrs. Selwyn, “I am glad I was not more civil to him. You may depend upon me for keeping him at a distance.”
“O, Madam,” said Mr. Ridgeway, “he may now be admitted any where, for he is going to reform.”
“Has he, under that notion, persuaded any fool to marry him?”
“Not yet, Madam, but a marriage is expected to take place shortly: it has been some time in agitation; but the friends of the lady have obliged her to wait till she is of age: however, her brother, who has chiefly opposed the match, now that she is near being at her own disposal, is tolerably quiet. She is very pretty, and will have a large fortune. We expect her at the Wells every day.”
“What is her name?” said Mrs. Selwyn.
“Larpent,” answered he: “Lady Louisa Larpent, sister of Lord Orville.”
“Lord Orville!” repeated I, all amazement.
“Yes, Ma’am; his Lordship is coming with her. I have had certain information. They are to be at the Honourable Mrs. Beaumont’s. She is a relation of my Lord’s, and has a very fine house upon Clifton Hill.”
His Lordship is coming with her! — Good God, what an emotion did those words give me! How strange, my dear Sir, that, just at this time, he should visit Bristol! It will be impossible for me to avoid seeing him, as Mrs. Selwyn is very well acquainted with Mrs. Beaumont. Indeed, I have had an escape in not being under the same roof with him, for Mrs. Beaumont invited us to her house immediately upon our arrival; but the inconvenience of being so distant from the pump-room made Mrs. Selwyn decline her civility.
Oh that the first meeting were over! — or that I could quit Bristol without seeing him! — inexpressibly do I dread an interview! Should the same impertinent freedom be expressed by his looks, which dictated this cruel letter, I shall not know how to endure either him or myself. Had I but returned it, I should be easier, because my sentiments of it would then be known to him; but now, he can only gather them from my behaviour; and I tremble lest he should mistake my indignation for confusion! — lest he should misconstrue my reserve into embarrassment! — for how, my dearest Sir, how shall I be able totally to divest myself of the respect with which I have been used to think of him? — the pleasure with which I have been used to see him?
Surely he, as well as I, must recollect the letter at the moment of our meeting; and he will, probably, mean to gather my thoughts of it from my looks; — oh that they could but convey to him my real detestation of impertinence and vanity! then would he see how much he had mistaken my disposition when he imagined them my due.
There was a time when the very idea that such a man as Lord Merton should ever be connected with Lord Orville would have both surprised and shocked me; and even yet I am pleased to hear of his repugnance to the marriage.
But how strange, that a man of so abandoned a character should be the choice of a sister of Lord Orville! and how strange, that, almost at the moment of the union, he should be so importunate in gallantry to another woman! What a world is this we live in! how corrupt! how degenerate! well might I be contented to see no more of it! If I find that the eyes of Lord Orville agree with his pen — I shall then think, that of all mankind, the only virtuous individual resides at Berry Hill.
LETTER 63
EVELINA IN CONTINUATION
Bristol Hotwells, Sept. 16th.
Oh, Sir, Lord Orville is still himself! still what, from the moment I beheld, I believed him to be — all that is amiable in man! and your happy Evelina, restored at once to spirits and tranquillity, is no longer sunk in her own opinion, nor discontented with the world; — no longer, with dejected eyes, sees the prospect of passing her future days in sadness, doubt, and suspicion! — with revived courage she now looks forward, and expects to meet with goodness, even among mankind:— though still she feels, as strongly as ever, the folly of hoping, in any second instance, to meet with perfection.
Your conjecture was certainly right; Lord Orville, when he wrote that letter, could not be in his senses. Oh that intemperance should have power to degrade so low, a man so noble!
This morning I accompanied Mrs. Selwyn to Clifton Hill, where, beautifully situated, is the house of Mrs. Beaumont. Most uncomfortable were my feelings during our walk, which was very slow; for the agitation of my mind made me more than usually sensible how weak I still continue. As we entered the house, I summoned all my resolution to my aid, determined rather to die than give Lord Orville reason to attribute my weakness to a wrong cause. I was happily relieved from my perturbation, when I saw Mrs. Beaumont was alone. We sat with her for, I believe, an hour without interruption; and then we saw a phaeton drive up to the gate, and a lady and gentleman alight from it.
They entered the parlour with the ease of people who were at home. The gentleman, I soon saw, was Lord Merton: he came shuffling into the room with his boots on, and his whip in his hand; and having made something like a bow to Mrs. Beaumont, he turned towards me. His surprise was very evident; but he took no manner of notice of me. He waited, I believe, to discover, first, what chance had brought me to that house, where he did not look much rejoiced at meeting me. He seated himself very quietly at the window, without speaking to any body.
Mean time the lady, who seemed very young, hobbling rather than walking into the room, made a passing courtsy to Mrs. Beaumont, saying, “How are you, Ma’am?” and then, without noticing any body else, with an air of languor she flung herself upon a sofa, protesting, in a most affected voice, and speaking so softly she could hardly be heard, that she was fatigued to death. “Really, Ma’am, the roads are so monstrous dusty — you can’t imagine how troublesome the dust is to one’s eyes! — and the sun, too, is monstrous disagreeable! — I dare say I shall be so tanned: I shan’t be fit to be seen this age. Indeed, my Lord, I won’t go out with you any