and could with difficulty keep her seat. 'Ah! madam,' said he, 'what is it I hear -is it possible you mean to abandon your friends, to distress the most affectionate hearts in the world, to give up society, and, from romantic notions, bury yourself in a convent? Hear me thus publicly,' cried he, throwing himself at her feet, With a frantic look, 'hear me avow myself your lover, your protector, and if you will condescend to accept of me, your husband; yes, that is the enviable distinction I aspire to; plead for me, my friends, - soften the obdurate heart that would consign me to everlasting misery. Oh ! Matilda, cruel, unfeeling girl, has a proud and unrelenting spirit subdued every tender and compassionate sentiment. - has neither love nor friendship any claims upon your heart' His emotions were violent.
The ladies, 'till now, strangers to his sentiments, sat mute with wonder.
Matilda had covered her face with her handkerchief; when he stopt she withdrew it; it was wet with tears: he snatched it from her trembling hand, kissed it, and thrust it into his bosom. 'I beseech you, Sir, to rise,' said she, when able to speak, 'this posture is unbecoming of yourself and me. The resolution I have formed is such as my reason approves, and my particular circumstances call upon me to adopt; I ought to have done it long ago, and blush at my own folly in delaying it.' 'But, good God! madam,' interrupted the Count, 'can the ridiculous behaviour, or unjust prejudices of one worthless woman weigh against the affections, the esteem of so many respectable friends? What have we done to deserve being rendered miserable through her envy and malice?' 'Could the warmest love, gratitude and respect, which I owe to every one here,' answered she; 'could the arguments of the most condescending kindness, deeply imprinted here' -putting her hand to her heart - 'could these avail to alter my purpose, I might not be able to withstand your persuasions; but, my Lord, when I have had fortitude sufficient to deny those who are dearer to me than life, you cannot be offended, that 'tis impossible for me to oblige you; and here, in the presence of those who have been witnesses to the honors you have offered me, I release you from every vow, every obligation your too ardent love has conferred on me, and from this hour beseech you to think of me as a friend, zealous for your honor and happiness, for your fame, and the respect you owe to your family; but equally jealous of every duty I owe myself, and therefore deter mined to see you no more.' She rose quickly from her chair, and ran into Mrs Courtney's dressing-room, giving way to a violent burst of tears. The astonished Count, who had not the power to prevent her departure, threw himself into a chair, without speaking. The Countess had followed Matilda.
'This is really,' said Mrs Courtney, 'the most extraordinary young woman I ever met with; I wonder not at your attachment, my dear Count, but after this public declaration, you have nothing to hope for: imitate her example of fortitude and self-denial, and suffer not your mind to be depressed, when it is necessary you should exert man's boasted superiority of reason and firmness.' The Count replied not.
The Marchioness looked with a little surprise at Mrs Courtney, who she thought appeared less affected than she ought for her young friend.
Lord Delby was warm in her praise, and offered to be her escort to Boulogne, as he thought it highly improper she should be accompanied by servants only.
This offer was thankfully accepted by the Marchioness. 'She has absolutely prohibited the Marquis and myself,' said she, 'but I hope will make no objections to the honor you intend her.'
The Count, making a slight apology, withdrew, and every one joined in pitying the necessity for a separation of two persons so worthy of each other. 'Was fortune the only obstacle her delicacy could raise,' said the Marquis, there are those who would rejoice to remove it; but when we consider the particular disadvantages of her situation -the disgrace and insults which would attend the Count, from her want of birth, however great her merit: unjust as I know those prejudices are, yet I confess it would have given me pain, had she acted otherwise. I applaud, I admire, I love her more than ever, but I do not wish to see her the Count's wife, unless those bars could be removed, which now appear next to an impossibility.' 'No!' cried the Marchioness, briskly, 'no! I will not believe merit like Matilda's is born to wither in the shade; I will hope to see her one day in a conspicuous point of view, that may reflect honor on all who are connected with her, either by blood or friendship.'
'You are romantic, my dear madam,' said Mrs Courtney, with a smile; 'but suppose we go to your young favorite, and see how the poor thing does after her heroics.'
This was said with so little feeling, that the Marchioness was surprised; and a sudden idea darting into the mind of the Marquis, he could not suppress a smile, whilst Lord Delby looked offended with his sister's light manner of speaking.
Under these different impressions they entered the dressing-room, and found poor Matilda reclining her head on the Countess, and both weeping. 'Fie, fie, my good friend,' said Mrs Courtney, 'is this the way to comfort the young lady for the sacrifices she has made to honor and principle.' 'I adore your sensibility, madam,' cried Lord Delby, hastily; 'in my opinion, who ever loves Miss Matilda does honor to their own heart.'
Both ladies bowed to his lordship, though unable to speak; but endeavouring to recover themselves, the Countess said, 'This dear obstinate girl proposes setting off the day after to-morrow. 'Well, and if she is so determined, what hinders us from all taking a trip to Dover, previous to our Scarborough journey?' said Lord Delby.
Every one agreed to the proposal, after which they sought to amuse their minds, by talking on different subjects.
The Countess and Mrs Courtney accompanied the Marchioness home to dinner, but Lord Delby excused himself, that he might attend to the Count. On his return to Cavendish-square he was informed his guest was in the library. He found him writing, and would have retired; the Count requested he would sit down: the conversation naturally turned on the recent occurrences in Harley street. 'Don't think meanly of me, my dear Lord,' said the Count, if I cannot help gratifying a little malice and revenge; I have just finished a few lines to Mademoiselle De Fontelle; I will, at least, make her remember she is in my power, and tremble every moment, lest I should put my threats in execution; I will plant a thorn in her bosom, if she is capable of feeling, though, alas! I can never draw the one from my breast she has been the cause of transfixing there for life! I shall send to the Ambassadors, to procure her address, as doubtless from old acquaintance Madame Le Brune has been to pay her respects to his lady, and that is the only clue at present, I have to find her.'
When Lord Delby acquainted him the day was fixed for Matilda's departure, and their intended jaunt with her, 'Ah!' said he, 'how hard, that the person most interested in that event should be precluded from being a witness of it, though I know I could not stand the shock.' 'If my sister does not accompany us, which I rather doubt, as one coach cannot hold them, and I intend going on horseback, there being no necessity for great expedition I shall consign her to your care, my dear Count, in our absence.' 'If Mrs Courtney will accept the attendance of such a spiritless being as myself,' answered he, 'I shall be honoured by permission to wait upon her.'
Not to dwell on the melancholy circumstances of parting, when nothing new or particular occurred, 'tis sufficient to say both parties were overwhelmed with grief, and Matilda submitted, with much reluctance, to Lord Delby's going in the packet with her; but her friends all protesting, if she refused, every one would go, she was obliged to acquiesce; and embracing the two ladies a thousand times, with streaming eyes, she tore herself from them and embarked.
The wind was fair; they reached Boulogne in seven hours; and whilst they partook of some refreshment at the hotel, Louison and Antoine walked to the Ursuline Convent, in the high town, and having acquainted the porteress with their errand, found, to their great mortification, they took no ladies in chamber, or high pensioners. They were directed to the Annunciate Covent, and there soon procured admission, and accommodations for Matilda, and Louison, who gladly attended her, thinking it would be only for a short time, 'till her lady came from England.
Within a few hours Matilda was received and settled. She took leave of Lord Delby, with tears of gratitude. 'Ah!' said he, much moved, 'not one word of remembrance to my worthy guest?' 'Yes, Sir,' said she, raising her voice, 'tell him I admire, I esteem him - that his happiness is the first wish of my heart. Take care, my dear Lord, of the worthy Count; teach him to forget me, and if ever he should be united to an amiable woman, deserving and possessing his affection, I will then