of tender Sighs to light into a Blaze.—He now thought himself as fortunate, as some Moments before he had the Reverse; and doubted not, but, that before they parted, he should find a Way to dry the Tears of this lovely Mourner, to the Satisfaction of them both. He did not, however, offer, as he had done to Fantomina and Celia to urge his Passion directly to her, but by a thousand little softning Artifices, which he well knew how to use, gave her leave to guess he was enamour’d.When they came to the Inn where they were to lie, he declar’d himself somewhat more freely, and perceiving she did not resent it past Forgiveness, grew more encroaching still;—He now took the Liberty of kissing away her Tears, and catching the Sighs as they issued from her Lips; telling her if Grief was infectious, he was resolv’d to have his Share; protesting he would gladly exchange Passions with her, and be content to bear her Load of Sorrow, if she would as willingly ease the Burden of his Love.—She said little in answer to the strenuous Pressures with which at last he ventur’d to enfold her, but not thinking it Decent, for the Character she had assum’d, to yeild so suddenly, and unable to deny both his and her own Inclinations, she counterfeited a fainting, and fell motionless upon his Breast.— He had no great Notion that she was in a real Fit, and the Room they supp’d in happening to have a Bed in it, he took her in his Arms and laid her on it, believing, that whatever her Distemper was, that was the most proper Place to convey her to.—He laid himself down by her, and endeavour’d to bring her to herself; and she was too grateful to her kind Physician at her returning Sense, to remove from the Posture he had put her in, without his Leave.
It may, perhaps, seem strange that Beauplaisir should in such near Intimacies continue still deceiv’d: I know there are Men who will swear it is an Impossibility, and that no Disguise could hinder them from knowing a Woman they had once enjoy’d. In answer to these Scruples, I can only say, that besides the Alteration which the Change of Dress made in her, she was so admirably skill’d in the Art of feigning, that she had the Power of putting on almost what Face she pleas’d, and knew so exactly how to form her Behaviour to the Character she represented, that all the Comedians at both Playhouses are infinitely short of her Performances: She could vary her very Glances, tune her Voice to Accents the most different imaginable from those in which she spoke when she appear’d herself.—These Aids from Nature, join’d to the Wiles of Art, and the Distance between the Places where the imagin’d Fantomina and Celia were, might very well prevent his having any Thought that they were the same, or that the fair Widow was either of them: It never so much as enter’d his Head, and though he did fancy he observed in the Face of the latter, Features which were not altogether unknown to him, yet he could not recollect when or where he had known them;—and being told by her, that from her Birth, she had never remov’d from Bristol,a Place where he never was, he rejected the Belief of having seen her, and suppos’d his Mind had been deluded by an Idea of some other, whom she might have a Resemblance of.
They pass’d the Time of their Journey in as much Happiness as the most luxurious Gratification of wild Desires could make them; and when they came to the End of it, parted not without a mutual Promise of seeing each other often.—He told her to what Place she should direct a Letter to him; and she assur’d him she would send to let him know where to come to her, as soon as she was fixed in Lodgings.
SHE kept her Promise; and charm’d with the Continuance of his eager Fondness, went not home, but into private Lodgings, whence she wrote to him to visit her the first Opportunity, and enquire for the Widow Bloomer.—She had no sooner dispatched this Billet, than she repair’d to the House where she had lodg’d as Fantomina, charging the People if Beauplaisir should come there, not to let him know she had been out of Town. From thence she wrote to him, in a different Hand, a long Letter of Complaint, that he had been so cruel in not sending one Letter to her all the Time he had been absent, entreated to see him, and concluded with subscribing herself his unalterably Affectionate Fantomina. She received in one Day Answers to both these.The first contain’d these Lines:
To the Charming Mrs. Bloomer.
IT would be impossible, my Angel! for me to express the thousandth Part of that Infinity of Transport, the Sight of your dear Letter gave me.—Never was Woman form’d to charm like you: Never did any look like you,—write like you,—bless like you;—nor did ever Man adore as I do.—Since Yesterday we parted, I have seem’d a Body without a Soul; and had you not by this inspiring Billet,gave me new Life, I know not what by To-morrow I should have been.—I will be with you this Evening about Five:—O, ’tis an Age till then!—But the cursed Formalities of Duty oblige me to Dine with my Lord—who never rises from Table till that Hour;—therefore Adieu till then sweet lovely Mistress of the Soul and all the Faculties of
Your most faithful,
Beauplaisir.
THE other was in this Manner:
To the Lovely Fantomina.
IF you were half so sensible as you ought of your own Power of charming, you would be assur’d, that to be unfaithful or unkind to you, would be among the Things that are in their very Natures Impossibilities.—It was my Misfortune, not my Fault, that you were not persecuted every Post with a Declaration of my unchanging Passion; but I had unluckily forgot the Name of the Woman at whose House you are, and knew not how to form a Direction that it might come safe to your Hands.—^nd, indeed, the Reflection how you might misconstrue my Silence, brought me to Town some Weeks sooner than I intended—If you knew how I have languish’d to renew those Blessings I am permitted to enjoy in your Society, you would rather pity than condemn
Your ever faithful,
Beauplaisir.
P.S. I fear I cannot see you till To-morrow; some Business has unluckily fallen out that will engross my Hours till then.—Once more, my Dear, Adieu.
Traytor! (cry’d she,) as soon as she had read them, ’tis thus our silly, fond, believing Sex are serv’d when they put Faith in Man: So had I been deceiv’d and cheated, had I like the rest believ’d, and sat down mourning in Absence, and vainly waiting recover’d Tendernesses.—How do some Women (continued she) make their Life a Hell, burning in fruitless Expectations, and dreaming out their Days in Hopes and Fears, then wake at last to all the Horror of Dispair?—But I have outwitted even the most Subtle of the deceiving Kind, and while he thinks to fool me, is himself the only beguiled Person.
She made herself, most certainly, extremely happy in the Reflection on the Success of her Stratagems; and while the Knowledge of his Inconstancy and Levity of Nature kept her from having that real Tenderness for him she would else have had, she found the Means of gratifying the Inclination she had for his agreeable Person, in as full a Manner as she could wish.
She had all the Sweets of Love, but as yet had tasted none of the Gall, and was in a State of Contentment, which might be envy’d by the more Delicate.
WHEN the expected Hour arriv’d, she found that her Lover had lost no part of the Fervency with which he had parted from her; but when the next Day she receiv’d him as Fantomina, she perceiv’d a prodigious Difference; which led her again into Reflections on the Unaccountableness of Men’s Fancies, who still prefer the last Conquest, only because it is the last.—Here was an evident Proof of it; for there could not be a Difference in Merit, because they were the same Person; but the Widow Bloomer was a more new Acquaintance than Fantomina, and therefore esteem’d more valuable. This, indeed, must be said of Beauplaisir, that he had a greater Share of good Nature than most of his Sex, who, for the most part, when they are weary of an Intreague, break it entirely off, without any Regard to the Despair of the abandon’d Nymph. Though he retain’d no more than a bare Pity and Complaisance for Fantomina, yet believing she lov’d him to an Excess, would not entirely