The time in which Mr. Munden had promised to give his answer to the lawyer was now near expired; yet he was as irresolute as ever: loath he was to have the affair between him and his wife made publick, and equally loath to comply with her demands. Before he did either, it therefore came into his head to try what effect menaces would produce; and accordingly wrote to her in these terms.
'To Mrs. Munden.
Madam,
Though your late behaviour has proved the little affection you have for me, I still retain too much for you to be able to part with you. No! be assured, I never will forego the right that marriage gives me over you—will never yield to live a widower while I am a husband; and, if you return not within four and twenty hours, shall take such measures as the law directs, to force you back to my embraces. By this time to-morrow you may expect to have such company at your levee as you will not be well pleased with, and from whose authority not all your friends can screen you: but, as I am unwilling to expose you, I once more court you to spare yourself this disgrace, and me the pain of inflicting it. I give you this day to consider on what you have to do. The future peace of us both depends on your result; for your own reason ought to inform you, that being brought to me by compulsion will deserve other sort of treatment than such as you might hope to find on returning of your own accord to your much-affronted husband,
G. Munden.'
This letter very much alarmed both the sister and the brother: the former trembled at the thoughts of seeing herself in the hands of the officers of justice; and the latter could not but be uneasy that a disturbance of this kind should happen in his house. They were just going to send for Mr. Markland, to consult him on what was to be done, when that gentleman, whom chance had brought that way, luckily came in. He found Mr. Thoughtless in great discomposure, and Mrs. Munden almost drowned in tears. On being informed of the occasion, 'I see no reason,' said he gravely, 'for all this: I cannot think that Mr. Munden will put in execution what he threatens; at last, not till after I have spoke to him again. I rather think he writes in this manner only to terrify you, Madam, into a submission to his will. However,' continued he, after a pretty long pause, 'to be secure from all danger of an affront this way, I think it would be highly proper you should retire to some place where he may not know to find you, till I have once more tried how far he may be prevailed upon to do you justice.'
This advice being highly approved of, 'My wife's sister,' resumed he, 'has a very pleasant and commodious house on the bank of the river on the Surrey side—she takes lodgers sometimes; but at present is without: so that, if you resolve to be concealed, you cannot find a more convenient retreat; especially as, it's being so near London, nothing of moment can happen here but what you may be apprized of in little more than an hour.'
Mrs. Munden testifying as much satisfaction at this proposal as a person in her circumstances could be capable of feeling, Mr. Markland told her that he was ready to conduct her immediately to the place he mentioned; and her brother adding that he would accompany them, and see his sister safe to her new abode, they all set out together on their little voyage; Mrs. Munden having first given directions to her servants where they should follow her with such things as she thought would be wanted during her stay there.
On their arrival, they found Mr. Markland had spoken very modestly of the place he recommended: the house was pleasant almost beyond description, and rendered much more so by the obliging behaviour of its owner.
They all dined together that day; and, on parting, it was agreed that Mrs. Munden should send her man every morning to town, in order to bring her intelligence of whatever accidents had happened in relation to her affairs on the preceding day.
As much as this lady had been rejoiced at the kind reception she had met with from her brother under her misfortunes, she was now equally pleased at being removed for a time from him, not only because she thought herself secure from any insults that might be offered by her husband, but also because this private recess seemed a certain defence against the sight of Mr. Trueworth—a thing she knew not well how to have avoided in town, without breaking off her acquaintance with Lady Loveit.
After the gentlemen were gone, the sister-in-law of Mr. Markland led her fair guest into the garden, which before she had only a cursory view of. She shewed her, among many other things, several curious exotick plants, which, she told her, she had procured from the nurseries of some persons of condition to whom she had the honour to be known: but Mrs. Munden being no great connoisseur that way, did not take much notice of what she said concerning them; till, coming to the lower end, she perceived a little wicker-gate. 'To where does this lead?' cried she. 'I will shew you presently, Madam,' replied the other; and, pulling it open, they both entered into a grass-walk, hemmed in on each side with trees, which seemed as old as the creation. They had not gone many paces, before an arbour, erected between two of these venerable monuments of antiquity, and overspread with jessamines and honeysuckles, attracted Mrs. Munden's eyes. 'Oh, how delightful is this!' said she. 'It would have been much more so, Madam, if it had been placed on the other side of the walk,' said the gentlewoman; 'and, if I live till next spring, will have the position of it altered. You will presently see my reasons for it,' continued she, 'if you please to turn your eyes a little to the right.' Mrs. Munden doing as she was desired, had the prospect of a very beautiful garden, decorated with plots of flowers, statues, and trees cut in a most elegant manner. 'Does all this belong to you?' demanded she, somewhat surprized. 'No, Madam,' answered the other; 'but they are part of the same estate, and, at present, rented by a gentleman of condition, who lives at the next door. The walk we are in is also common to us both, each having a gate to enter it at pleasure; though, indeed, they little frequent it, having much finer of their own.' With such like chat they beguiled the time, till the evening dew reminded them it was best to quit the open air.
Mrs. Munden passed this night in more tranquillity than she had done many preceding ones: she awoke, however, much sooner than was her custom; and, finding herself less disposed to return to the embraces of sleep than to partake that felicity she heard a thousand chearful birds tuning their little throats in praise of, she rose, and went down into the garden: the contemplative humour she was in, led her to the arbour she had been so much charmed with the night before; she threw herself upon the mossy seat, where scenting the fragrancy of the sweets around her, made more delicious by the freshness of the morning's gale, 'How delightful, how heavenly!' said she to herself, 'is this solitude! how truly preferable to all the noisy, giddy pleasures, of the tumultuous town! yet how have I despised and ridiculed the soft sincerity of a country life!' Then recollecting some discourse she formerly had with Mr. Trueworth on that subject, 'I wonder,' cried she, 'what Mr. Trueworth would say if he knew the change that a little time has wrought in me! he would certainly find me now more deserving of his friendship than ever he could think me of his love: but he is ignorant, insensible, of my real sentiments; and if Sir Bazil and Lady Loveit should tell him with what abruptness I fled their house at the news of his approach, I must appear in his eyes the most vain, stupid, thankless, creature I once was. But, such is my unhappy situation, that I dare not even wish he should discover what passes in my heart: the just sensibility of his amiable qualities, and of the services he has done me, which would once have been meritorious in me to have avowed, would now be highly criminal.'
With these reflections she took out Mr. Trueworth's picture, which she always carried about her; and, looking on it with the greatest tenderness, 'Though I no more must see himself,' said she, 'I may, at least, be allowed to pay the tribute of my gratitude to this dumb representative of the man to whom I have been so much obliged.' At this instant, a thousand proofs of love given her by the original of the copy in her hand, occurring all at once to her remembrance, tears filled her eyes, and her breast swelled with involuntary sighs.
In this painfully pleasing amusement did she continue for some time; and had, doubtless, done so much longer, if a sudden rustling among the leaves behind her, had not made her turn her head to see what had occasioned it: but where are the words that can express the surprize, the wild confusion, she was in, when the first glance of her eyes presented her with the sight of the real object, whose image she had been thus tenderly contemplating! She shrieked—the picture dropped from her hand—the use of her faculties forsook her—she sunk from the seat where she was sitting, and had certainly fainted quite away