and devoted servant,
C. Trueworth.'
Mrs. Munden found this epistle so reasonable, and withal couched in such respectful terms, that she ought not to refuse compliance with it; and, accordingly, wrote to him in this manner.
'To Charles Trueworth, Esq.
Sir,
The generous concern you express for my welfare demands a no less grateful return. As to my health, it is no way impaired since I left London; nor can my mind labour under any discomposure, while my friends continue to think kindly of me. I am, with all due respect, Sir, yours, &c.
B. Munden.'
Upon this obliging answer he ventured to write again, intreating her to allow a correspondence with him by letters while she remained in L——e; urging, that this was a favour she could not reasonably deny to any friend who desired it with the same sincerity she must be convinced he did.
Mrs. Munden paused a little; but finding that neither her virtue nor her reputation could any way suffer by granting this request, her heart would not permit her to deny both him and herself so innocent a satisfaction; and by the next post gave him the permission he petitioned for, in these words.
'To Charles Trueworth, Esq.
Sir,
I should be unjust to myself, as well as ungrateful to the friendship with which you honour me, should I reject any proofs of it that are consistent with my character to receive and to return: write, therefore, as often as you think proper; and be assured I shall give your letters all the welcome you can wish, provided they contain nothing unsuitable to the present condition of her who is, as much as you ought to expect, Sir, yours, &c.
B. Munden.'
After this, an uninterrupted intercourse of letters continued between them for the whole remainder of the year. Mr. Trueworth was for the most part extremely cautious in what manner he expressed himself; but whenever, as it would sometimes so happen, the warmth of his passion made him transgress the bounds which had been prescribed him, she would not seem to understand, because she had no mind to be offended.
Thus equally maintaining that reserve which she thought the situation she was in demanded, and at the same time indulging the tenderness of her heart for a man who so well deserved it, she enjoyed that sweet contentment which true love alone has the power of bestowing.
CHAPTER XXIV
Is the last; and, if the author's word may be taken for it, the best
Innocent and pure as the inclinations of Mrs. Munden were, it is highly probable, however, that she was not sorry to see the time arrive which was to put an end to that cruel constraint her charming lover had been so longer under; and, while it gave him leave to declare the whole fervency of the passion he was possessed of, allowed her also to confess her own without a blush.
Mr. Trueworth, who had kept an exact account of the time, contrived it so that a letter from him should reach her hands the very next day after that in which she was to throw off her mourning weeds. It was in these terms he now wrote.
'To Mrs. Munden.
Madam,
The year of my probation is expired—I have now fully performed the painful penance you enjoined; and you must expect me shortly at your feet, to claim that recompence which my submission has in some measure merited. You cannot now, without an injustice contrary to your nature, forbid me to approach you with my vows of everlasting love; nor any longer restrain my impatient lips from uttering the languishments of my adoring heart: nor can I now content myself with telling you, at the distance of so many miles, how very dear you are to me. No! you must also read the tender declarations in my eyes, and hear it in my sighs. The laws of tyrant custom have been fulfilled in their most rigorous forms; and those of gentler love, may, sure, demand an equal share in our obedience. Fain would my flattering hopes persuade me that I shall not find you a too stubborn rebel to that power, to whose authority all nature yields a willing homage, and that my happiness is a thing of some consequence to you. If I am too presuming, at least forgive me; but let your pen assure me you do so by the return of the post; till when I am, with a mixture of transport and anxiety, Madam, your passionately devoted, and most faithful adorer,
C. Trueworth.'
Though this was no more than Mrs. Munden had expected, it diffused through her whole frame a glow of satisfaction unknown to those who do not love as she did: she thought, indeed, as well as he, that there was no need of continuing that cruel constraint she so long had imposed upon herself; and hesitated not if she should acknowledge what he before had not the least cause to doubt. The terms in which she expressed herself were these.
'To Charles Trueworth, Esq.
Sir,
I know there is a great share of impatience in the composition of your sex, and wonder not at yours—much less have I any pretence to excuse you of presumption, as you are too well acquainted with the just sensibility I have of your merits not to expect all the marks of it that an honourable passion can require. An attempt to conceal my heart from you will be vain—you saw the inmost recesses of it at a time when you should most have been a stranger there: but what was then my shame to have discovered, is now my glory to avow; and I scruple not to confess, that whatever makes your happiness will confirm mine. But I must stop here, or, when I see you, shall have nothing left to add in return for the pains so long a journey will cost you. Let no anxieties, however, render the way more tedious; but reflect that every step will bring you still nearer to a reception equal to your wishes, from her who is, with an unfeigned sincerity, yours &c.
B. Munden.'
This was the first love-letter she had ever wrote; and it must be owned that the passion she was inspired with had already made her a pretty good proficient that way: but though the prudish part of the sex may perhaps accuse her of having confessed too much, yet those of a more reasonable way of thinking will be far from pronouncing sentence against her—the person of Mr. Trueworth—his admirable endowments—the services he had done her, might well warrant the tenderness she had for him—his birth, his estate, his good character, and her own experience of his many virtues, sufficiently authorized her acceptance of his offers; and it would have been only a piece of idle affectation in her to have gone about to have concealed her regard for a person whom so many reasons induced her to marry, especially as chance had so long before betrayed to him her inclinations in his favour.
Thus fully justified within herself, and assured of being so hereafter to all her friends, and to the world in general, she indulged the most pleasing ideas of her approaching happiness, without the least mixture of any of those inquietudes, which pride, folly, ill-fortune, or ill-humour, too frequently excite, to poison all the sweets of love and imbitter the most tender passion.
As she had not made Lady Trusty the confidante of any part of what had passed between her and Mr. Trueworth; deterred at first through shame, and afterwards by the uncertainty of his persisting in his addresses, that lady would have been greatly surprized at the extraordinary vivacity which now on a sudden sparkled in her eyes, if there had not been other motives besides the real one by which she might account for it.
Mrs. Munden had received intelligence that Lady Loveit was safely delivered of a son and heir; and, what was yet more interesting to her, that Mr. Thoughtless was married to a young lady of a large fortune, and honourable family: letters also came from Mr. Francis Thoughtless, acquainting them that he had obtained leave from his colonel to leave the regiment for two whole months; and that, after the celebration of his brother's nuptials, he would pass the remainder of his furlow with them in L——e.
These, indeed, were the things which at another time would have highly delighted the mind of Mrs. Munden; but at this her thoughts were so absorbed in Mr. Trueworth, whom she now every hour expected, that friendship, and even that natural affection