Sir," said I; "but I know not if such a mistaken generosity might not have been fatal to the reputation of us both. What would the world have said of me to have been tamely passive, and suffer another to revenge the affront offered to my sister? What would they have thought of her, on finding her honour vindicated by one who had no concern in it?"—"No concern!" cried he, with the utmost eagerness; "yes, I have a concern, more deep, more strong, than that of father, brother, or all the ties of blood could give; and that you had before now have been convinced of it, had I not been so suddenly and so unfortunately called hence."
Perceiving I looked very much confounded, as well I might, "Ah, Frank!" cried he, "I love your charming sister; my friends have, for these six months past, been teazing me to think of marriage, and several proposals have been made to me on that score; but never till I saw the amiable Miss Betsy, did I behold the face for whom I would exchange my liberty: in fine, 'tis she, and only she, can make me blest; and I returned to Oxford full of the hopes of an opportunity to lay my heart, my person, and my fortune, at her feet."
It would require a volume, instead of a letter, to repeat half the tender and passionate expressions he uttered in your favour. What I have already said is enough to give you a specimen of the rest. I shall only add, that being impatient to begin the attack he is determined to make upon your heart, he is preparing to follow you to London with all possible expedition. I once had thoughts of accompanying him, but have since thought it proper to have Sir Ralph Trusty's advice in something I have a mind to do, and for that purpose shall take a journey into L——e, as soon as I receive remittances from Mr. Goodman, to pay off some trifling debts I have contracted here, and defray my travelling expences; so that if things happen as I wish they may, my friend's passion will have made a considerable progress before I see you.
Indeed, my dear sister, if you have not already seen a man whose person you like better, you can never have an offer that promises more felicity: he left the college soon after I came into it, beloved and respected by all that knew him, for his discreet behaviour, humanity, and affability; he went afterwards on his travels, and brought home with him all the accomplishments of the several countries he had been in, without being the least tainted with the vices or fopperies of any of them; he has a much larger estate than your fortune could expect, unincumbered with debts, mortgages, or poor relations; his family is ancient, and, by the mother's side, honourable; but, above all, he has sense, honour, and good-nature—rare qualities, which, in my opinion, cannot fail of making him an excellent husband, whenever he comes to be such.
But I shall leave him to plead his own cause, and you to follow your own inclinations. I am, with the most unfeigned good wishes, my dear sister, your affectionate brother, and humble servant,
F. Thoughtless.
P.S. Mr. Trueworth knows nothing of my writing to you in his behalf; so you are at liberty to receive him as you shall think proper.'
Miss Betsy required no less a cordial than this to revive her spirits, pretty much depressed since her ill usage at Oxford.
She had not time, however, to indulge the pleasure of reflecting on this new triumph, on her first receiving the news of it. Lady Mellasin had set that evening apart to make a grand visit to a person of her acquaintance, who was just married; the young ladies were to accompany her, and Miss Betsy was in the midst of the hurry of dressing when the post brought the letter, so she only looked it carelessly over, and locked it in her cabinet till she should have more leisure for the examination. They were all ready; the coach with the best hammer-cloth and harnesses was at the door, and only waited while Mrs. Prinks was drawing on her lady's gloves, which happened to be a little too tight.
In this unlucky instant one of the footmen came running into the parlour, and told Lady Mellasin that there was a very ill-looking woman at the door, who enquired for her ladyship, and that she must needs speak with her, and that she had a letter to deliver, which she would give into nobody's hand but her own. Lady Mellasin seemed a little angry at the insolence and folly of the creature, as she then termed it; but ordered she should be shewed into the back-parlour: they were not above five minutes together before the woman went away, and Lady Mellasin returned to the room where Miss Betsy and Miss Flora were waiting for her. A confusion not to be described sat on every feature in her face; she looked pale, she trembled; and having told the young ladies something had happened which prevented her going where she intended, flew up into her dressing-room, followed by Mrs. Prinks, who appeared very much alarmed at seeing her ladyship in this disorder.
Miss Betsy and Miss Flora were also surprized; and doubtless had their own conjectures upon this sudden turn. It is not likely, however, that either of them, especially Miss Betsy, could hit upon the right: but, whatever their thoughts were, they communicated them not to each other, and seemed only intent on considering in what manner they should dispose of themselves that evening, it not being proper they should make the visit above-mentioned without her ladyship. As they were discoursing on this head, Mrs. Prinks came down; and, having ordered the coach to be put up, and sent a footman to call a hack, ran up stairs again in a great hurry to her lady.
In less time than could almost be imagined, they both came down: Lady Mellasin had pulled off her rich apparel, and mobbed herself up in a cloak and hood, that little of her face, and nothing of her air, could be distinguished; the two young ladies stared, and were confounded at the metamorphosis. 'Is your ladyship going out in that dress?' cried Miss Flora; but Miss Betsy said nothing. 'Aye, child,' replied the lady, somewhat faltering in her speech, 'a poor relation, who they say is dying, has sent to beg to see me.' She said no more, the hackney-coach was come, her ladyship and Mrs. Prinks stepped hastily into it; the latter, in doing so, telling the coachman in so low a voice as nobody but himself could hear, to what place he was to drive.
After they were gone, Miss Flora proposed walking in the Park; but Miss Betsy did not happen to be in a humour to go either there or any where else at that time; on which the other told her she had got the spleen: 'But,' said she, 'I am resolved not to be infected with it, so you must not take it ill, if I leave you alone for a few hours; for I should think it a sin against common sense to sit moping at home without shewing myself to any one soul in the world, after having taken all this pains in dressing.' Miss Betsy assured her, as she might do with a great deal of sincerity, that she should not at all be displeased to be entirely free from any company whatsoever, for the whole evening; and to prove the truth of what she said, gave orders that instant to be denied to whoever should come to visit her. 'Well,' cried Miss Flora, laughing, 'I shall give your compliments, however, where I am going;' and then mentioned the names of some persons she had just then taken into her head to visit. 'As you please for that,' replied Miss Betsy, with the same gay air; 'but don't tell them it is because I am eaten up with the vapours, that I chuse to stay at home rather than carry my compliments in person; for if ever I find out,' continued she, 'that you are so mischievous, I shall contrive some way or other to be revenged on you.'
They talked to each other in this pleasant manner, till a chair Miss Flora had sent for was brought into the hall, in which she seated herself for her intended ramble, and Miss Betsy went into her chamber, where how she was amused will presently be shewn.
CHAPTER XII
Is little more than a continuance of the former
Miss Betsy had no sooner disengaged herself from the incumbrance of a formal dress, and put on one more light and easy, al fresco, as the Spaniards phrase it, than she began to give her brother's letter a more serious and attentive perusal, than she had the opportunity of doing before.
She was charmed and elated with the description Mr. Francis had told her, she had inspired in the breast of his friend: she called to her mind the idea of those persons who were present at the entertainments he mentioned, and easily recalled which was most likely to be the lover, though she remembered not the name; she very well now remembered there was one that seemed both times to regard her with glances, which had somewhat peculiar in them, and which then she had interpreted as the certain indications of feeling something in his heart of the nature her brother had described; but not seeing him