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 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 RIVERSIDE
 
 EVELINA
 
 £7 Cvo .-'^ - 
 
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 OR 
 
 THE HISTORY OF a YOUNG LADY3 1 
 
 ENTRANCE INTO THE WORLD 
 
 //////BY 
 /FANNY BURMEY • 
 
 XV I £ 
 
 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY 
 OTJST1N BOB^QN 
 
 )0~ 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
 HUGH THOMSON 
 
 
 LONDON" 
 HACMILLAN &CO LIMITED 
 
 H PANY 
 
 y
 
 1963
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 Evelina ; or, A Young Lady's Entrance into the World, 1 - 
 was first published at the aid of January, iJjS, by Thomas 
 
 Lowndes of ~J Fleet Street, who, fourteen years earlier, had 
 issued another popular and anonymous work, Horace JValpole's 
 Castle of Otranto. Evelina ivas certainly fortunate in the 
 moment of Its birth. At the date of its appearance, the literary 
 horizon was as bare of rivals as it had been when, in November, 
 J 7 40, Richardson burst upon a public exhausted by French 
 romances with his real-life story of a virtuous servant-girl. 
 
 1 The sub-title was subsequently altered to The History of a Young 
 Lady's Entrance into the World. 
 
 vii
 
 EVELINA 
 
 Between Pamela and Evelina <ui entire generation of novelists 
 
 had arisen and disappeared, — like the stars of Bcranger. 
 
 Following the printer of Salisbury Court had come Fielding 
 
 and Smollett and Sterne and Goldsmith, extending, developing, 
 
 and completing, in its full compass, the new form of fiction. 
 
 But in 1778 all these were dead , md their mantles had fallen 
 
 upon no worthy successors, unless, indeed, we are to account that 
 
 amiable and tearful simulacrum of Sterne, Henry Mackenzie 
 
 a legitimate descendant of the inventor of Mr. Shandy and 
 
 ' my uncle Toby.' It is true that with the story which was 
 
 afterwards to be known as The Old English Baron, Miss 
 
 Clara Reeve was, very tardily, continuing in a modified form 
 
 the Gothic Romance of Walpole ; but its full expansion, under 
 
 Mrs. Radcliffe, was still to come. When Evelina '■entered 
 
 the worldf Maria Edgeworth was a school-girl of eleven, 
 
 learning embroidery at Mrs. l.attijierc's at Derby ; and Jane 
 
 Austen was playing in the nursery at Steventon. Meanwhile 
 
 the market was filled with the fatuous and dreary productions 
 
 which represented the degradation of the great masters, — -flimsy 
 
 tales and histories in which, without any of the qualities of their 
 
 models, the writers strove to copy Fielding and Smollett ; or, as 
 
 ' corresponding Misses,' 
 
 Caught in a delicate soft silken net 
 By some le-wd earl, or rake-hell baronet, 
 
 '■filled their reams ' with far-off imitations of Clarissa and 
 Sir Charles Grandison. What was present in the majority of 
 these worshipful performances, was a certain jaded dexterity 
 in the manipulation of commonplaces, — a certain easily-reached 
 level of mawkish mediocrity : what they lacked was genius, 
 humour, insight into character, constructive ability of every 
 kind. The verdict of Cowper in the entire passage from the 
 Progress of Error, of which a couplet has been quoted, :vas 
 confirmed seven years later by Canning in No. 16 of the 
 Microcosm. The fiction of the day, he epi grammatically 
 declared, was composed exclusively of ' stories without inven- 
 tion, anecdotes without novelty, observations without aptness, 
 
 viii
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 and reflections without morality? Its effect had been to bring 
 novel-writing into undeserved am tempt — especially for women : 
 dint to banish it almost entirely to the baleful shadow of those 
 ' evergreen trees of diabolical knowledge' — the circulating 
 libraries. Into this environment and condition of things 
 Evelina was born. 
 
 Strangely enough, its author, Fro/tecs or Fanny Burney, 
 had, at first, no higher ambition than to eater for the above- 
 named institutions. 1 1 thought] she told a friend, 'Evelina's 
 only admirers would be school-girls, and destined her to no 
 nobler inhabitation than a circulating library.' But she had 
 builded better than she knew. A reserved, delicate, emotional 
 young woman of five-and-twenty, long backward both mentally 
 and physically, and almost entirely self-educated, she had been 
 wont, from a very early age, to amuse herself by composing, 
 without thought of publication, em endless series of sketches, 
 titles, and dramatic scenes, ail of which, prepared in the strictest 
 secrecy, were confided only to the discreet ears of Iter admiring 
 sisters. Her father, an energetic musician and music-master, 
 left her much to herself, save when he required her services as 
 an amanuensis ; and no small amount of manuscript had been 
 gradually accumulated when her stepmother, whose literary 
 leanings stopped short at composition, discovered that a great 
 deal of ( scribbling' was going on in the establishment, much to 
 the prejudice of the stitching ami sewing which then constituted 
 the chief occupation of middle-class household*. Thereupon 
 came a friendly but firm monition to Fanny and her sister 
 Susan not to waste time in idle crude inventions. As a 
 consequence, the young author, as docile as she was diffident, 
 made dutiful Ion fire of her piled -up papers in the paved 
 play-court of her father's house at Poland Street ; and, witli 
 dry eyes, proceeded to devote herself without remission to 
 'flourishing upon catgut' and the contriving of fresh costumes 
 in lilac tabby or silver-light lutestring: 
 
 Not even with fire, however, is nature expelled: and the 
 proscribed habit of the feu found speedy relief in diary-beeping, 
 
 ix
 
 EVELINA 
 
 very much to the profit and development of a native sense of the 
 ridiculous, and a perceptive faculty preternaturally acute. 
 The result of all this was that the pages of Fanny's journal 
 soon passed from jejune records of sentiment and refection to 
 long reports of interesting conversations, and detailed portraits 
 of the personages, notable or otherwise, who frequented her 
 father's house. Given but some superficial difference of dis- 
 position or demeanour, — some -well -marked twist or ply of 
 character, — and it forthwith found a place in this young lady's 
 gallery of oddities. Presently the practice of what she calls 
 ' dramatising ' her chronicle, revived the old desire to embody 
 her impressions in a fitting atmosphere of fiction. Among the 
 stories she had burned had been a so-called History of Caroline 
 Evelyn, — a girlish effort probably very much upon the model 
 of the works which issued from Mr. Bell's library in the 
 Strand, subject of course to the reservation that its writer was 
 a refined young lady of punctilious and even prudish disposition. 
 It contained the regulation wicked baronet ; there 'was also in it 
 a secret marriage and a burnt marriage certificate. But there 
 was, besides, — and this must have distinguished it from the 
 ' half- bound volumes, -with marble covers f so dear to Lydia 
 Languish and my Lady Slattern Lounger, — a real conflict of 
 character. Caroline Evelyn's motlicr had been a barmaid who 
 had married a gentleman; and the result of this fair con- 
 junction' {upon -which 'Heaven did not smile') was to leave 
 Caroline Evelyn's daughter, who had been brought up as a lady, 
 with a good many undesirable relatives on the maternal side. 
 This, the only novelty in what was, no doubt, an extremely 
 juvenile and immature production, continued to linger in the 
 authors mind. She found herself unable to desist from 
 speculating on the singular situation in which the child of 
 Caroline Evelyn would find herself between the elegant con- 
 nections of her mother and the vulgar ones of her grandmother. 
 As time went on, the story grew and expanded in her tnindj 
 and in spite of the discredit at/aching to feminine authorship, she 
 fell constrained to write it down. 
 
 x
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 When she actually began Iter necessarily furtive and inter- 
 mittent task, is difficult to say. But it is probable that it 
 progressed by Jits and starts, making its greatest advance 
 •when her father did not require Iter secretarial services ; 
 or when, as happened not utifrequently, she went to stay with 
 one of his friends — Mr. Samuel Crisp — at a rambling old 
 country house called Chessington Hall, in a secluded part of 
 Surrey. When it was written in London, it was generally 
 written in what was known to the Burney household as Sir 
 Isaac Newton's Observatory, a tiny rough-glazed turret with 
 a leaden roof, which surmounted No. i St. Maitiii s Street, 
 where Fannys father then lived, — a house which many years 
 before had been Newton 's residence. 1 But wherever it was 
 composed, it was composed with the greatest secrecy. No one 
 save the writer 's sisters seems to have had the slightest inkling 
 that the shy, retiring, short-sighted little person, whose gravity 
 in her childhood had gained her the nickname of the ' old lady,' 
 was silently constructing a story which enthusiasts were to liken 
 to the works of Richardson and Fielding. For this extreme 
 reticence there were several reasons. Besides doubt of herself, 
 and the stigma of novel-spinning, there was the warning of 
 Iter stepmother. But what probably she feared most was the 
 criticism of her father, himself an eager student of literature, 
 and a practised writer of books. 
 
 Towards 1776 Miss Burney 's task had taken sufficient shape 
 to make its author think vaguely of type. Her hand-writing 
 at this dale, from long transcribing for her fathers History of 
 Music and other works, had, she fancied, grown familiar to the 
 printers ; and she was apprehensive that it might be detected 
 at press — a terrible thought in such a deed of darkness as 
 she designed. She consequently began to transcribe as much as 
 
 1 No. 1 St. Martin's Street, now No. jj, still exists, — not very far 
 from the building whence this volume is issued. Newton lived in it from 
 17 10 to 1725 ; the Burners from 177 J until the Doctor removed to Chelsea 
 Hospital. The observatory — if it ever was the observatory — has long since 
 disappeared. 
 
 xi
 
 EVFXINA 
 
 she had completed ' in a feigned hand} Most of this laborious 
 repetition was accomplished in the night-watches j and before it 
 was finished, she had become so tired of her task that she grew 
 anxious to know whether it was in the least likely that she 
 would be able to obtain a publisher. She accordingly wrote 
 an unsigned letter to Robert Dodsley of Pall Mall, offering him 
 what she had already prepared j and undertaking to complete 
 the whole in due course. Dodsley replied curtly that he could 
 not consider an anonymous production. After consulting with 
 her sisters, she resolved to try a less prominent bookseller, 
 and fixed upon Thomas Lowndes of Fleet Street, who, as 
 already stated, had issued Wat pole's Gothic Romance. Mr. 
 Lowndes's reply was to be addressed to an imaginary ' Mr. 
 Grafton,' at the Orange Coffee House in the Haymarket, which, 
 of course, was close to St. Martin ' s Street. It proved more 
 encouraging than that of Dodsley. lie asked to see the manu- 
 script ; and it was accordingly conveyed to him by night, with 
 all fitting mystery, by Miss Bu nicy's younger brother. But 
 though Mr. Low/nics allowed the ability shewn in the specimen 
 submitted, he was naturally not prepared to go to press with 
 an uncompleted effort. He contented himself with praising 
 the cleverness of the sample, suggested certain modifications, and 
 added that if a third volume were prepared "replete with Modern 
 Characters," he should be glad to look into the matter again. 
 
 This disappointment, which might have been anticipated, 
 caused a momentary check in the progress of affairs. But, by 
 and by, the writer set to work upon the concluding volume, 
 which was duly completed and dispatched to the publisher, who 
 immediately tendered for it the munificent sum of twenty pounds, 
 — a sum the delighted author received rapturously 'with 
 boundless surprise at its magnificence. 1 1 Meanwhile, in much 
 trepidation, she confessed to her father what she had done. He 
 apparently, if surprised, -was not greatly impressed by the in 
 
 1 One is reminded of Jane Austen's 'prodigious recompense for that 
 ■which had cost her nothing,' a propos of the sunt she receh 5 se and 
 
 Sensibility. That sum, however, was £/jo. 
 
 xii
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 telligence, — a circumstance i/t which he did not differ materially 
 from other parents with children of unrevealed accomplishment. 
 
 He laughed a little ; professed no inconvenient curiosity ; and 
 left his daughter to her own devices, not even inquiring the name 
 of her book. Lowndes proceeded to print an edition of five 
 hundred copies^ — the usual number for a novel, — and at the 
 end of January, 177S, the newspapers announced that Evelina 
 was on sale, in three volumes, 1 21/10, the price being fs. 6d. 
 sewed, and gs. bound. Miss Burney see/us to have received no 
 proofs; but shortly before publication, had been asked to supply 
 a List of Errata for a printed copy, which was sent to her in 
 sheets. Her next intelligence of her work was derived from 
 hearing her stepmother read out the advertisement, probably from 
 the St. James's Chronicle, at the breakfast table. But as the 
 good lady was absolutely without previous information or sus- 
 picion upon the subject, she made no remark, nor did her 
 daughters. 
 
 For some time Fanny Burney heard no more of Miss 
 Anville and her history. In February the London Review, then 
 managed by the writer whom Macaulay styles the ' envious 
 Kenrick,' gave it a good notice of three lines; and in March 
 the Monthly Review, of which the proprietor and editor was 
 Goldsmith's old master Mr. Ralph Griffiths, l at the Sign of the 
 Dunciad,' devoted a brief but entirely favourable paragraph to 
 its merits. Then, making inquiry at Bell's Library, the Burney 
 sisters found that Evelina was in circulation, and that — to use 
 the author's own words — -' every butcher and baker, cobbler and 
 tinker, throughout the three kingdoms, might now see it for the 
 small tribute of threepence.' After this, in May, having helped 
 to nurse her father through a fever, and having herself suffered 
 from inflammation of the lungs, Fanny went off to Chessington 
 
 1 Miss Burney says eight hundred (Diary and Letters, 1892, Hi. 57<?). 
 /,'ul the above is derived from an unpublished letter to Dr. Burney from 
 Lowndes, who should have known the facts, and who, moreover, told Miss 
 Burney' s sister Charlotte that five hundred was the 'common number for 
 a novel' (Early Diary of Frances Burney, iSSq, ii. joy). 
 
 xin
 
 EVELINA 
 
 Hall to recruit. Whether she had see/i the above-mentioned 
 reviews is not clear, though she had probably heard of the 
 second. But the book was manifestly making slow way j and 
 while in Surrey, she eventually, in response to repeated 
 requests, received an elegantly bound copy, which was sub- 
 sequently followed by others. Then, at last, her father's atten- 
 tion was somehow drawn to Evelina : and Fanny's sister 
 Susan writes off exclamatory accounts of his views and opinions, 
 his emotion over the speedily discovered Dedication to himself, 
 and his attitude generally. He thought the Preface to the 
 Reviewers ' vastly strong and well written.' As he progressed, 
 his admiration increased; and we have the comments of the 
 ladies to whom he was reading the book. Finally he finishes 
 it in a burst of enthusiasm. He does not think improvement 
 possible; delights in Mr. Villars and Lord Orville ; 'blubbers' 
 over Sir John Belmont J and declares that, Fielding excepted, 
 Evelina is the best novel in the language, new in style, and '■for 
 a young woman quite wonderful '/' After this Mrs. Thrale of 
 Streatham, with whom Dr. Johnson is staying, and to whose 
 daughter Queenie Dr. Bumey gives lessons, gets hold of it upon 
 the recommendation of Mrs. Chol/uondeley, Peg 11 'offing ton's 
 clever sister, who is trumpeting it everywhere. Then Mrs. 
 Thrale recommends and lends it to — of all persons — the un- 
 suspecting Mrs. Burney, and long letters go off to Fanny 
 describing how her honoured parents tire studying Evelina in 
 bed in the morning. Finally Dr. Burney obtains his daughter s 
 leave to tell Mrs. Thrale, which involves telling Mrs. Burner. 
 Forthwith arrives a highly complimentary letter from Mrs. 
 Thrale, conveying, in addition to her own opinion of Evelina's 
 '■probability of storv, elegance of sentiment, and general power 
 over the mind,' the astounding intelligence that Dr. Johnson 
 is not only leading the book, but is eager for the denoument, 
 and, in fact, is hard at work on volume three. Moreover, that 
 he has positively been understood to say that there are passages 
 in Evelina which might do honour to his old friend Richardson. 
 When this last information reaches the author at Chessington, 
 
 xiv
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 it almost '■crazes her with agreeable surprise,' producing ' such a 
 flight of spirits' that she then and there, to the no small amaze- 
 ment and diversion of Mr. Crisp, 'without any preparation, 
 music, or explanation,' dances a jubilant jig on the lawn) 
 
 From this point the literary success ^"Evelina was assured. 
 How Reynolds left his painting to read it, declared he would 
 give fifty pounds to know who wrote it, and finally sat up all 
 night to finish it; how Burke did the same — as far as silling 
 up was concerned; how it was read by Gibbon in one day; how 
 Johnson quoted it on all occasions, and protested that it rivalled 
 not only Richardson but Fielding; how Mrs. Thrale, in a 
 transport of enthusiasm, annexed and exhibited the author, — 
 has all been fold before. But what is not so well known is, 
 that a great literary coup may co-exist with a very gradual 
 commercial success. In spite of the popularity #/" Evelina during 
 the latter half of 1778, it does not appear that a second edition 
 was readied until the following year, when the sale grew more 
 rapid. In May, 177Q. Miss Burney speaks of a fourth edition 
 as in preparation, which, of course, supposes the expected ex- 
 haustion of a third edition before that date. After the third 
 edition, Mr. lowndes paid the author ten pounds, making a 
 total of thirty pounds, and apparently thought himself excep- 
 tionally liberal. The price, of course, was miserable enough ; 
 but the absence of definite information as to the methods of the 
 market makes it difficult to speak precisely on the subject of the 
 sales. It seems, however, that the first three editions amounted 
 in all to no more than from two thousand to two thousand three 
 hundred copies, which, in these days, would scarcely be regarded 
 as an extraordinary circulation for a popular novel. And in 
 J77S Evelina was the most popular novel which had appeared 
 for a considerable lime, having probably a larger number of 
 educated readers than Goldsmith's Vicar of Wakefield. 
 
 To-day Miss Burney' s book is more than a century old, 
 and any detailed examination of it would be superfluous, — 
 
 1 She confirmed this forty-eight years later to Sir Walter Scott (Journal, 
 /<??/, i. jog). 
 
 XV
 
 EVELINA 
 
 particularly hi the present ease, where it makes its re-appear- 
 ance with all the prestige of a specially sympathetic pictorial 
 interpreter. But it may, for a moment, be interesting to revive 
 some of the criticisms of contemporary readers, who, after all, 
 must be regarded as the most competent judges of a novel of 
 manners. As far as one can gather, it was the characters of 
 Madame Duval and Captain Afirvan, and the picture of the 
 Branghton group (including the Holborn beau, Mr. Smith), 
 which attracted most attention with the readers of 1778. We 
 hear of Mrs. Cholmondeley and others interlarding their talk 
 with Duval Ma ¥o\s and superlatives ; and 'ice hear of Johnson 
 quoting ' Only think, Polly ! Miss has danced with a Lord." 
 Mr. Villars and Lord Orville had also their adherents ; but 
 we must assume them to have been chiefly favourites with the 
 old votaries of the Richardson school. As to Captain Mirvan's 
 fidelity to life, there was evidently considerable difference of 
 opinion. The Monthly Review, in fact, declared that the 
 manners of this particular ' son of Neptune* were '■rather those 
 of a rough uneducated country squire, than those of a genuine 
 se-a captain' j- and this was naturally the view of the navy 
 gentlemen themselves. Captain Co/ton, Mrs. Thrale's cousin, 
 good-humou redly told Miss Burney at Bath that all his col- 
 leagues resented her portrait as that of a typical sea officer, and 
 Admiral Byron (of the Narrative), though he admired the book, 
 ' was not half pleased with the Captain' s being such a brute.' 
 Even Dr. Burney admitted that his behaviour to Lovel went too 
 far. Nevertheless the author, who had a brother in the service, 
 was not C07ivinced; and, in her journal, testifies impenitent/y 
 to the absolute veracity of the portrait. All the captains she 
 knew, she declares, were given ' to roasting beaux, and detesting 
 old women.' As to the accuracy of Evelina's social sketches, 
 which has sometimes been questioned, we have the testimony of 
 Mrs. Thrale, given before she had made the author's acquaint- 
 ance. ' There's a great deal of human life in this book, and of 
 the manners of the present time,' she said; and she further 
 affirmed that it was written ' by somebody who knew the top 
 
 xvi
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 and the bottom, the highest and lowest of mankind? Upon 
 a question of this sort, at all events, Mrs. Thrale must be held 
 to be an unimpeachable authority. 
 
 As regards the excellence of the accounts of public places, 
 we have Dr. Burne/s own verdict, and he, again, as a musician 
 and professional ///tin, was speaking oj what he knew thoroughly. 
 They were ' very animated and natural,' he said, '■ami not 
 common? This is undoubtedly true ; and Miss Burney re- 
 produces, we may be sure, pretty much the tall; that went on 
 at Marylebone Gardens and the Pantheon, — at Vauxhall and 
 Ranelagh. Yet it is ob sen 1 able that she gives very little act it at 
 description of these resorts, — less, indeed, than we find in 
 Fielding and Smollett. Nay, sometimes, she does not give us 
 the details which are needful. In that description of Mr. 
 Smith tit Vauxhall in chapter xlvi., "which Johnson so much 
 enjoyed, we have no hint of the painting at which the company 
 were looking, although a reference to any old Vauxhall guide 
 sliows a! once that it must have been Itaymaiis allegorical 
 representation of Admiral Hawkers defeat of the French at 
 Quiberon Bay. It may of course be objected that this is a 
 refinement of narrative art, which does not concern itself 
 with non-essentials, and that it was no more necessary for Miss 
 Burney to describe the new room at Vauxhall cr the little 
 theatre in the Hay market, than it would be for a contemporary 
 Trollope to give an account of Rotten Row or Hitrliugham, 
 supposing his characters happened to be in those neighbourhoods. 
 But the fact remains, that Miss Burner, who copies people 
 and their talk so vividly, does not describe places or buildings 
 as much as many of the writers of her time ; and that con- 
 sequently, there is a certain lack of topographical background in 
 Iter story. We have seen this peculiarity attributed, in respect 
 to her Diary, to the short sight from which she suffered, and 
 it is just possible that defective vision may have had something 
 to do with the matter. 
 
 Costume and local colouring enter so largely into the novel 
 of manners, that some notice of its contemporary illustrators 
 
 xvii
 
 EVELINA 
 
 is generally of interest. From this paint of view, Evelina was 
 unfortunate. Slothard's career had not yet begun; and the 
 earliest designs supplied to Evelina were by fohn Hamilton 
 Mortimer, by whom they were prepared just before his death 
 in February, 1779. Why this artist — whose gifts, according 
 to the dictionaries, lay chiefly in the presentment of ' banditti 
 and monsters ' — should have been selected for such a task, is 
 difficult to comprehend, especially as his three frontispieces to 
 Evelina's three volumes, when engraved by Hall, Walker and 
 Bartoloszi, cost Mr. Lowndes seventy-three pounds, or just forty- 
 three more than he had given for the copyright of the novel. 
 Mortimer 's original drawings are still in existence. The first 
 is allegorical ; the others depict the Lovel episode, and Mme. 
 Duval Jielped out of the ditch by the heroine. But although 
 the designer had been enjoined to ' make Evelina as elegant 
 as his mind could conceive? it must be admitted that, upon 
 this occasion, Mr. Lowndes was not well advised in his 
 venture. In 17S0, Miss Burnefs cousin, Edward Francis 
 Burney, prepared three ' stained drawings ' for the same 
 purpose, -which were exhibited at the Royal Academy in that 
 year. One of these, a most delicate little picture intended for 
 volume three, and depicting Evelina and her father, we have 
 seen. Edward Bunny's designs, howeier, do not appear to 
 have been used. In 1789 there was a report that Angelica 
 Kauffmann had been commissioned by Catherine II. of Russia 
 to execute a series of compositions from Evelina. This piece 
 of information the author declined to credit, — not without 
 reason. For although ' Miss Angel ' certainly did some 
 pictures for the famous Hermitage on the Neva, we have found 
 no trace of any scenes from Fanny Burney 's novel. 
 
 Austin Dobson. 
 
 Ealing, October, igoj.
 
 LliTTER 
 
 i. Lady Howard to the Rev. Mr. Yillars 
 
 2. Mr. Yillars to Lady Howard . 
 
 3. Lady Howard to the Rev. Mr. Yillars 
 
 4. Mr. Yillars to Lady Howard . 
 
 5. Mr. Yillars to Lady Howard . 
 
 6. Lady Howard to the Rev. Mr. Yillars 
 
 7. Lady Howard to the Rev. Mr. Yillars 
 
 S. F.VELINA TO THE REV. Mr. YlLLARS 
 
 9. Mr. Yillars to Evelina . 
 
 10. Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Yillars 
 
 11. Evelina in Continuation 
 
 xix 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I 
 
 9 
 
 10
 
 EVELINA 
 
 LETTER 
 
 12. Evelina in Continuation* 
 
 13. Evelina in Continuation 
 
 14. Evelina in Continuation 
 
 15. Mr. Villars to Evelina . 
 
 16. Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars 
 
 17. Evelina in Continuation 
 
 18. Evelina in Continuation 
 
 19. Evelina in Continuation 
 
 20. Evelina in Continuation 
 
 21. Evelina in Continuation 
 
 22. Evelina in Continuation 
 
 23. Evelina in Continuation 
 
 24. Mr. Villars to Evelina . 
 
 25. Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars 
 
 26. Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars 
 
 27. Lady Howard to the Rev. Mr. Villai 
 
 28. Mr. Villars to Lady Howard . 
 
 29. Mr. Villars to Evelina . 
 
 30. Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars 
 
 31. Lady Howard to Sir John Belmont, Bart. 
 t,2. Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars 
 ^. Evelina in Continuation 
 
 34. Evelina in Continuation 
 
 35. Sir John Belmont to Lady Howard 
 
 36. Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars 
 
 37. Mr. Villars to Evelina . 
 
 38. Mr. Villars to Lady Howard . 
 
 39. Mr. Villars to Evelina . 
 
 40. Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars 
 
 41. Evelina to Miss Mirvan . ■ 
 
 42. Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars 
 
 43. Evelina in Continuation
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 LETTER 
 
 44. Evelina in Continuation 
 
 45. Evelina in Continuation 
 
 46. Evelina in Continuation 
 
 47. Evelina in Continuation 
 
 48. Evelina in Continuation 
 
 49. Mr. Villars to Evelina . 
 
 50. Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars 
 
 51. Evelina in Continuation 
 
 52. Evelina in Continuation 
 
 53. Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars 
 
 54. Evelina in Continuation 
 
 55. Evelina in Continuation 
 
 56. Mr. Villars to Evelina . 
 
 57. Evelina to Miss Mirvan . 
 
 58. Evelina in Continuation 
 
 59. Evelina in Continuation 
 
 60. Evelina in Continuation 
 
 61. Evelina in Continuation 
 
 62. Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars 
 
 63. Evelina in Continuation 
 
 64. Evelina in Continuation 
 
 65. Evelina in Continuation 
 
 66. Evelina in Continuation 
 
 67. Mr. Villars to Evelina . 
 
 68. Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars 
 
 69. Evelina in Continuation 
 
 70. Evelina in Continuation 
 
 71. Evelina in Continuation 
 
 72. Evelina in Continuation 
 
 73. Mr. Villars to Evelina . 
 
 74. Lady Belmont to Sir Juiin Belmont 
 
 75. Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars 
 
 PAGE 
 
 214 
 220 
 227 
 246 
 
 255 
 259 
 261 
 
 271 
 
 278 
 289 
 
 293 
 302 
 306 
 306 
 309 
 314 
 
 31s 
 
 325 
 327 
 
 333 
 
 339 
 352 
 356 
 3 6 7 
 369 
 376 
 378 
 385 
 386 
 401 
 402 
 405
 
 EVELIXA 
 
 LETTER 
 
 76. Evelina in Continuation 
 
 77. Evelina in Continuation 
 
 78. Evelina in Continuation 
 
 79. Evelina in Continuation 
 
 80. Evelina in Continuation- 
 Si. Evelina in Continuation 
 
 82. Evelina in Continuation 
 
 83. Mr. Villars to Evelina . 
 
 84. Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars 
 
 413 
 422 
 
 438 
 445 
 449 
 457 
 460 
 
 470 
 477
 
 L» 
 
 I had scarce shut the garden gate . . . Frontispiece 
 
 A waiting-girl at a tavern . . . . .4 
 
 Thus it has happened that the education of the father, daughter, 
 
 and granddaughter has devolved on me . . .7 
 
 Dressing my hair . . . . . . .20 
 
 ' Madam — may I presume ? ' . . . .23 
 
 ' What have you done with your lovely partner .' 31 
 
 At Ranelagh ...... 34 
 
 ' Is that he? ' . . . .40 
 
 With an air of gallantry . . . . . .45 
 
 ' My God ! what shall I do ? ' . . . 5° 
 
 • Hark you, Mrs. Frog, you'd best hold your tongue' 53 
 
 Introduced by the name of Monsieur Du Bois . 58 
 
 Their conversation was supported with great vehemence . . 60 
 
 Held a candle to Madame Duval, that he might have a more 
 
 complete view of her disaster . . . .70 
 
 The young ladies began to examine my dress . . -75
 
 EVELINA 
 
 Madame Duval, accompanied by Monsieur Du Bois 
 
 Monsieur Du Bois making his defence 
 
 ' Doubtless, Ma'am, everything must be infinitely novel to you 
 
 ' So we've caught you at the glass ' 
 
 Her eyes sparkled with fury .... 
 
 Again I stood suspended ..... 
 
 ' For Heaven's sake, what is the matter ? ' 
 
 As if I had addressed myself wholly to him 
 
 ' O you creature ! ' 
 
 M. Du Bois put his hand upon his sword . 
 
 ' Come here, child '..... 
 
 ' Pray, ladies, don't be frightened, for I will walk my horse 
 
 Sir Clement caught my hand .... 
 
 Madame Duval implored their mercy 
 
 ' Mr. Mirvan, I have brought a petitioner ' 
 
 She endeavoured to adjust her head-dress 
 
 She called me to account very roughly 
 
 The Captain took me aside .... 
 
 The violence of their mirth .... 
 
 In profound and melancholy meditation . 
 
 Most officiously handed me to a great chair 
 
 ' Pray don't be so coy ' ..... 
 
 M. Du Bois walked by the side of the chair 
 
 ' Well, now, ladies, I think we sit very well' 
 
 Seated on a window with Mr. Brown 
 
 We were followed by Mr. Smith, who came to make excuses 
 
 Mr. Smith ran away with me .... 
 
 The Miss Branghtons screamed .... 
 
 ' O ho, my little runaway, have I found you at last?' 
 
 ' I can't think where she can be ' . 
 
 As fast as ever they could tear her along . 
 
 ' Pray, Sir, won't you sit down yourself .
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Young Branghton burst into a loud laugh 
 
 'Madam! — for Heaven's sake ' . 
 
 His behaviour is more unaccountable than ever . 
 
 Mr. Smith sat indolently quiet on his chair 
 
 ' I've the greatest mind in the world to box your ears ' 
 
 In vain his daughter pleaded 
 
 They frequently looked back 
 
 We were moved on between them 
 
 Tormenting Mr. Brown . 
 
 A shower of rain made us hasten . 
 
 ' Ah, tu me rends la vie ! ' cried he 
 
 Raising his eyes in thankfulness towards heaven . 
 
 Everybody I see takes notice of my being altered 
 
 My good friends tease me about my gravity 
 
 Planning for the future .... 
 
 Much incommoded by three gentlemen . 
 
 Surrounded the chair of Lady Louisa Larpent 
 
 They pranced about the room, making bows 
 
 In our way downstairs .... 
 
 Lord Merton caught my hand, saying the day was his ow 
 
 The young lady entered the pump-room . 
 
 Followed by a party of young men 
 
 A copy of verses had been dropped in the pump-room 
 
 Presented one of them to Lord Orville, another to me 
 
 Vehemently demanded him to return it . 
 
 I found myself already before him 
 
 ' Miss Anville, don't you walk with us?' . 
 
 Miss Mirvan and I jumped on our chairs
 
 TO 
 
 Oh author of my being ! — far more clear 
 
 To me than light, than nourishment, or rest, 
 
 Ilygieia's blessings, Rapture's burning tear, 
 Or the life-blood that mantles in my breast ! 
 
 If in my heart the love of Virtue glows, 
 'Twas planted there by an unerring rule ; 
 
 From thy example the pure flame arose, 
 
 Thy life, my precept — thy good works, my school. 
 
 Could my weak pow'rs thy num'rous virtues trace, 
 By filial love each fear should be repress'd ; 
 
 The blush of incapacity I'd chace, 
 
 And stand, recorder of thy worth, confess'd : 
 
 But since my niggard stars that gift refuse, 
 Concealment is the only boon I claim ; 
 
 Obscure be still the unsuccessful Muse, 
 
 Who cannot raise, but would not sink, thy fame. 
 
 Oh ! of my life at once the source and joy ! 
 
 If e'er thy eyes these feeble lines survey, 
 Let not their folly their intent destroy ; 
 
 Accept the tribute — but forget the lay.
 
 TO THE AUTHORS OF THE MONTHLY 
 AND CRITICAL REVIEWS 
 
 Gentlemen, — The liberty which I take in addressing to You 
 the trifling production of a few idle hours, will, doubtless, 
 move your wonder, and, probably, your contempt. I will not, 
 however, with the futility of apologies, intrude upon your time, 
 but briefly acknowledge the motives of my temerity : left, by a 
 premature exercise of that patience which I hope will befriend 
 me, I should lessen its benevolence, and be accessary to my 
 own condemnation. 
 
 Without name, without recommendation, and unknown 
 alike to success and disgrace, to whom can I so properly 
 apply for patronage, as to those who publicly profess them- 
 selves Inspectors of all literary performances? 
 
 The extensive plan of your critical observations, — which, 
 not confined to works of utility or ingenuity, is equally open to 
 those of frivolous amusement,- — and yet worse than frivolous 
 dulness, — encourages me to seek for your protection, since, — 
 perhaps for my sins ! — it entitles me to your annotations. To 
 resent, therefore, this offering, however insignificant, would ill 
 become the universality of your undertaking, though not to 
 despise it may, alas ! be out of your power. 
 
 The language of adulation, and the incense of flattery, 
 though the natural inheritance, and constant resource, from 
 time immemorial, of the Dedicator, to me offer nothing but 
 the wilful regret that I dare not invoke their aid. .Sinister 
 views would be imputed to all I could say ; since, thus situated, 
 to extol your judgment, would seem the effect of art, and to 
 celebrate your impartiality, be attributed to suspecting it. 
 
 As Magistrates of the press, and Censors for the public, — 
 to which you are bound by the sacred ties of integrity to exert 
 
 xxix
 
 I \ ELINA 
 
 the most spirited impartiality, and to which your suffrages 
 should carry the marks of pure, dauntless, irrefragable truth — 
 to appeal for your MERCY, were to solicit your dishonour; 
 and therefore, — though 'tis sweeter than frankincense, — more 
 grateful to the senses than all the odorous perfumes of Arabia, 
 — and though 
 
 It droppeth like the gentle rain from heaven 
 Upon the place beneath, 
 
 I court it not ! to your justice alone I am entitled, and by that 
 I must abide. Your engagements are not to the supplicating 
 author, but to the candid public, which will not fail to crave 
 
 The penalty and forfeit of your bond. 
 
 No hackneyed writer, inured to abuse, and callous to criticism, 
 here braves yourseverity ; — neitherdoesa half-starved garrettccr, 
 
 Oblig'il by hunger — and request of friends, — 
 
 implore your lenity : your examination will be alike unbiassed 
 by partiality and prejudice: — no refractory murmuring will 
 follow- your censure, no private interest be gratified by your 
 praise. 
 
 Let not the anxious solicitude with which I recommend 
 myself to your notice, expose me to your derision. Remember, 
 Gentlemen, you were all young writers once, and the most 
 experienced veteran of your corps, may, by recollecting his 
 first publication, renovate his first terrors, and learn to allow 
 for mine. For, though Courage is one of the noblest virtues 
 of this nether sphere, ami, though scarcely more requisite in 
 the field of battle, to guard the fighting hero from disgrace, 
 than in the private commerce of the world, to ward off that 
 littleness of soul, which leads, by steps imperceptible, to all 
 the base train of the inferior passions, and by which the too 
 timid mind is betrayed into a servility derogatory to the 
 dignity of human nature ; yet is it a virtue of no necessity in 
 a situation such as mine ; a situation which removes, even 
 from cowardice itself, the sting of ignominy ; — for surely that 
 couraye may easily be dispensed with, which would rather 
 excite disgust than admiration ! Indeed, it is the peculiar 
 privilege of an author, to rob terror of contempt, and pusill- 
 animity of reproach. 
 
 x\x
 
 TO AUTHORS OF MONTHLY AND CRITICAL REVIEWS 
 
 Here let me res/, — and snatch myself, while I yet am able, 
 from the fascination of EGOTISM, — a monster who has more 
 votaries than ever did homage to the most popular deity of 
 antiquity ; and whose singular quality is, that while he excites 
 a blind and involuntary adoration in almost every individual, 
 his influence is universally disallowed, his power universally 
 contemned, and his worship, even by his followers, never 
 mentioned but with abhorrence. 
 
 In addressing you jointly, I mean but to mark the generous 
 sentiments by which liberal criticism, to the utter annihilation 
 of envy, jealousy, and all selfish views, ought to be distinguished. 
 — I have the honour to be, Gentlemen, your most obedient 
 humble servant, * * * * * * *
 
 In the republic of letters, there is no member of such inferior 
 rank, or who is so much disdained by his brethren of the quill, 
 as the humble Novelist : nor is his fate less hard in the world 
 at large, since, among the whole class of writers, perhaps not 
 one can be named of which the votaries are more numerous 
 but less respectable. 
 
 Yet, while in the annals of those few of our predecessors, 
 to whom this species of writing is indebted for being saved 
 from contempt, and rescued from depravity, we can trace such 
 names as Rousseau, Johnson, 1 Marivaux, Fielding, Richardson, 
 and Smollet, no man need blush at starting from the same 
 post, though many, nay, most men, may sigh at finding them- 
 selves distanced. 
 
 The following letters are presented to the public — for such, 
 lay novel writers, novel readers will be called, — with a very 
 singular mixture of timidity and confidence, resulting from the 
 peculiar situation of the editor ; who, though trembling for 
 their success from a consciousness of their imperfections, 
 yet fears not being involved in their disgrace, while happily 
 wrapped up in a mantle of impenetrable obscurity. 
 
 To draw characters from nature, though not from life, and 
 to mark the manners of the times, is the attempted plan of the 
 following letters. For this purpose, a young female, educated 
 
 1 However superior the capacities in \vhi< h the e great writers deserve 
 to be considered, tliey must pardon me that, for the dignity of my subject, 
 I here rank the authors of Rasselas a.nd Elo'ise as Novelists.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 in the most secluded retirement, makes, at the age of seven- 
 teen, her first appearance upon the great and busy stage of 
 life ; with a virtuous mind, a cultivated understanding, and a 
 feeling heart, her ignorance of the forms, and inexperience in 
 the manners of the world, occasion all the little incidents 
 which these volumes record, and which form the natural 
 progression of the life of a young woman of obscure birth, 
 but conspicuous beauty, for the first six months after her 
 Entrance into the world. 
 
 Perhaps were it possible to effect the total extirpation of 
 novels, our young ladies in general, and boarding-school 
 damsels in particular, might profit from their annihilation : but 
 since the distemper they have spread seems incurable, since 
 their contagion bids defiance to the medicine of advice or 
 reprehension, and since they are found to baffle all the mental 
 art of physic, save what is prescribed by the slow regimen of 
 Time, and bitter diet of Experience, surely all attempts to 
 contribute to the number of those which may be read, if not 
 with advantage, at least without injury, ought rather to be 
 encouraged than contemned. 
 
 Let me, therefore, prepare for disappointment those who, 
 in the perusal of these sheets, entertain the gentle expectation 
 of being transported to the fantastic regions of Romance, 
 where Eiction is coloured by all the gay tints of luxurious 
 Imagination, where reason is an outcast, and where the 
 sublimity of the Marvellous rejects all aid from sober Prob- 
 ability. The heroine of these memoirs, young, artless, and 
 inexperienced, i 
 
 Xo faultless Monster, that the world ne'er saw, 
 
 but the offspring of Nature, and of Nature in her simplest 
 attire. 
 
 In all the Arts, the value of copies can only be proportioned 
 to the scarceness of originals : among sculptors and paint 
 a fine statue, or a beautiful picture, of some great master, may 
 deservedly employ the imitative talents of younger and inferior 
 artists, that their appropriation to one spot may not wholly 
 prevent the more general expansion of their excellence ; but, 
 among authors, the reverse is the case, since the noblest produc- 
 tions of literature are almost equally attainable with the meanest. 
 In books, therefore, imitation cannot be shunned too sedulously; 
 
 xxxiv
 
 PREFACE 
 
 for the very perfection of a model which is frequently seen, 
 serves but more forcibly to mark the inferiority of a copy. 
 
 To avoid what is common, without adopting what is un- 
 natural, must limit the ambition of the vulgar herd of authors : 
 however zealous, therefore, my veneration of the great writers 
 I have mentioned, however I may feel myself enlightened by 
 the knowledge of Johnson, charmed with the eloquence of 
 Rousseau, softened by the pathetic powers of Richardson, and 
 exhilarated by the wit of Fielding, and humour of Smollet ; I 
 yet presume not to attempt pursuing the same ground which 
 they have tracked ; whence, though they may have cleared the 
 weeds, they have also culled the flowers, and though they have 
 rendered the path plain, they have left it barren. 
 
 The candour of my readers I have not the impertinence to 
 doubt, and to their indulgence I am sensible I have no claim : 
 I have, therefore, only to entreat, that my own words may 
 not pronounce my condemnation, and that what I have here 
 ventured to say in regard to imitation, may be understood, as 
 it is meant, in a general sense, and not be imputed to an 
 opinion of rrjy own originality, which I have not the vanity, 
 the folly, or the blindness, to entertain. 
 
 Whatever may be the fate of these letters, the editor is 
 satisfied they will meet with justice ; and commits them to 
 the press, though hopeless of fame, yet not regardless of 
 censure.
 
 LETTER I 
 
 LADY HOWARD TO THE REV. MR. VILLARS 
 
 Howard Grove, Kent. 
 
 |AN anything, my good Sir, be more 
 painful to a friendly mind, than a 
 necessity of communicating disagree- 
 able intelligence ? Indeed, it is 
 sometimes difficult to determine, 
 whether the relator or the receiver 
 of evil tidings is most to be pitied. 
 
 I have just had a letter from 
 Madame Duval ; she is totally at a 
 loss in what manner to behave ; she 
 seems desirous to repair the wrongs 
 she has done, yet wishes the world to 
 believe her blameless. She would 
 fain cast upon another the odium of those misfortunes for which 
 she alone is answerable. Her letter is violent, sometimes 
 abusive, and that of you ! — you, to whom she is under obliga- 
 tions which are greater even than her faults, but to whose 
 advice she wickedly imputes all the sufferings of her much- 
 injured daughter, the late Lady Belmont. The chief purport of 
 her writing I will acquaint you with ; the letter itself is not 
 worthy your notice. 
 
 She tells me that she has, for many years past, been in 
 
 continual expectation of making a journey to England, which 
 
 prevented her writing for information concerning this melancholy 
 
 subject, by giving her hopes of making personal inquiries ; 
 
 3E I B
 
 EVELINA 
 
 but family occurrences have still detained her in France, which 
 country she now sees no prospect of quitting. She has, there- 
 fore, lately used her utmost endeavours to obtain a faithful 
 account of whatever related to her ill-advised daughter ; the 
 result of which giving her some reason to apprehend that, 
 upon her death-bed, she bequeathed an infant orphan to the 
 world, she most graciously says, that if you, with whom she 
 understands the child is placed, will procure authentic proofs 
 of its relationship to her, you may send it to Paris, where she 
 will properly provide for it. 
 
 This woman is, undoubtedly, at length, self-convicted of 
 her most unnatural behaviour : it is evident, from her writing, 
 that she is still as vulgar and illiterate as when her first 
 husband, Mr. Evelyn, had the weakness to marry her ; nor 
 does she at all apologise for addressing herself to me, though 
 I was only once in her company. 
 
 Her letter has excited in my daughter Mirvan a strong 
 desire to be informed of the motives which induced Madame 
 Duval to abandon the unfortunate Lady Belmont, at a time 
 when a mother's protection was peculiarly necessary for her 
 peace and her reputation. Notwithstanding I was personally 
 acquainted with all the parties concerned in that affair, the 
 subject always appeared of too delicate a nature to be spoken 
 of with the principals ; I cannot, therefore, satisfy Mrs. Mirvan 
 otherwise than by applying to you. 
 
 By saying that you may send the child, Madame Duval 
 aims at conferring, where she most owes obligation. I pretend 
 not to give you advice ; you, to whose generous protection this 
 helpless orphan is indebted for everything, are the best and 
 only judge of what she ought to do ; but I am much concerned 
 at the trouble and uneasiness which this unworthy woman may 
 occasion you. 
 
 My daughter and my grandchild join with me in desiring 
 to be most kindly remembered to the amiable girl ; and they 
 bid me remind you, that the annual visit to Howard Grove, 
 which we were formerly promised, has been discontinued for 
 more than four years. — I am, dear Sir, with great regard, 
 your most obedient friend and servant, M. Howard.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 LETTER II 
 MR. VILLARS TO LADY HOWARD 
 
 Berry Hill, Dorsetshire. 
 
 Your Ladyship did but too well foresee the perplexity and 
 uneasiness of which Madame Duval's letter has been pro- 
 ductive. However, I ought rather to be thankful that I have 
 so many years remained unmolested, than repine at my present 
 embarrassment ; since it proves, at least, that this wretched 
 woman is at length awakened to remorse. 
 
 In regard to my answer, I most humbly request your 
 Ladyship to write to this effect : ' That I would not, upon 
 any account, intentionally offend Madame Duval, but that I 
 have weighty, nay unanswerable, reasons for detaining her 
 granddaughter at present in England ; the principal of which 
 is, that it was the earnest desire of one to whose will she 
 owes implicit duty. Madame Duval may be assured that she 
 meets with the utmost attention and tenderness ; that her 
 education, however short of my wishes, almost exceeds my 
 abilities ; and I flatter myself, when the time arrives that she 
 shall pay her duty to her grandmother, Madame Duval will 
 find no reason to be dissatisfied with what has been done for 
 her.' 
 
 Your Ladyship will not, I am sure, be surprised at this 
 answer. Madame Duval is by no means a proper companion 
 or guardian for a young woman : she is at once uneducated 
 and unprincipled ; ungentle in her temper, and unamiable in 
 her manners. I have long known that she has persuaded her- 
 self to harbour an aversion for me. Unhappy woman ! I can 
 only regard her as an object of pity ! 
 
 I dare not hesitate at a request from Mrs. Mirvan, yet, in 
 complying with it, I shall, for her own sake, be as concise as 
 I possibly can ; since the cruel transactions which preceded 
 the birth of my ward can afford no 'entertainment to a mind 
 so humane as her's. 
 
 Your Ladyship may probably have heard, that I had the 
 honour to accompany Mr. Evelyn, the grandfather of my 
 young charge, when upon his travels, in the capacity of a 
 
 3
 
 A waiting-girl at a tavern.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 tutor. His unhappy marriage, immediately upon his return to 
 England, with Madame Duval, then a waiting-girl at a tavern, 
 contrary to the advice and entreaties of all his friends, among 
 whom I was myself the most urgent, induced him to abandon 
 his native land, and fix his abode in France. Thither he was 
 followed by shame and repentance — feelings which his heart 
 was not framed to support : for, notwithstanding he had been 
 too weak to resist the allurements of beauty, which nature, 
 though a niggard to her of every other boon, had with a lavish 
 hand bestowed on his wife ; yet he was a young man of 
 excellent character, and, till thus unaccountably infatuated, of 
 unblemished conduct. He survived this ill-judged marriage 
 but two years. Upon his death-bed, with an unsteady hand, 
 he wrote me the following note : — 
 
 ' My friend ! forget your resentment, in favour of your 
 humanity ; — a father, trembling for the welfare of his child, 
 bequeaths her to your care. — O Villars! hear! pity! and 
 relieve me ! ' 
 
 Had my circumstances permitted me, I should have 
 answered these words by an immediate journey to Paris ; but 
 I was obliged to act by the agency of a friend, who was upon 
 the spot, and present at the opening of the will. 
 
 Mr. Evelyn left to me a legacy of a thousand pounds, and 
 the sole guardianship of his daughter's person till her eighteenth 
 year, conjuring me, in the most affecting terms, to take the 
 charge of her education till she was able to act with propriety 
 for herself; but in reg r ard to fortune, he left her wholly de- 
 pendent on her mother, to whose tenderness he earnestly 
 recommended her. 
 
 Thus, though he would not, to a woman low-bred and illiberal 
 as Mrs. Evelyn, trust the conduct and morals of his daughter, 
 he nevertheless thought proper to secure to her the respect 
 and duty which, from her own child, were certainly her due ; 
 but, unhappily, it never occurred to him that the mother, on 
 her part, could fail in affection or justice. 
 
 Miss Evelyn, Madam, from the second to the eighteenth 
 year of her life, was brought up under my care, and, except 
 when at school, under my roof. I need not speak to your 
 Ladyship of the virtues of that excellent young creature. She 
 loved me as her father ; nor was Mrs. Villars less valued by 
 her ; while to me she became so dear, that her loss was little
 
 EVELINA 
 
 less afflicting than that which I have since sustained of Mrs. 
 Yillars herself. 
 
 At that period of her life we parted ; her mother, then 
 married to Monsieur Duval, sent for her to Paris. How often 
 have I since regretted that I did not accompany her thither '. 
 protected and supported by me, the misery and disgrace which 
 awaited her might, perhaps, have been avoided. But, to be 
 brief — Madame Duval, at the instigation of her husband, 
 earnestly, or rather tyrannically, endeavoured to effect a union 
 between Miss Evelyn and one of his nephews. And, when 
 she found her power inadequate to her attempt, enraged at 
 her non-compliance, she treated her with the grossest unkind- 
 ness, and threatened her with poverty and ruin. 
 
 Miss Evelyn, to whom wrath and violence had hitherto 
 been strangers, soon grew weary of such usage ; and rashly, 
 and without a witness, consented to a private marriage with 
 Sir John Belmont, a very profligate young man, who had but 
 too successfully found means to insinuate himself into her 
 favour. He promised to conduct her to England — he did. 
 
 O, Madam, you know the rest ! — Disappointed of the 
 
 fortune he expected, by the inexorable rancour of the Duvals, 
 he infamously burnt the certificate of their marriage, and 
 denied that they had ever been united ! 
 
 She flew to me for protection. With what mixed transports 
 of joy and anguish did I again see her ! By my advice she 
 endeavoured to procure proofs of her marriage ; — but in vain : 
 her credulity had been no match for his art. 
 
 Everybody believed her innocent, from the guiltless tenor 
 of her unspotted youth, and from the known libertinism of her 
 barbarous betrayer. Yet her sufferings were too acute for her 
 tender frame, and the same moment that gave birth to her 
 infant, put an end at once to the sorrows and the life of its 
 mother. 
 
 The rage of Madame Duval at her elopement abated not 
 while this injured victim of cruelty yet drew breath. She 
 probably intended, in time, to have pardoned her, but time 
 was not allowed. When she was informed of her death, I 
 have been told, that the agonies of grief and remorse, with 
 which she was seized, occasioned her a severe fit of illness. 
 But, from the time of her recovery to the date of her letter to 
 your Ladyship, I had never heard that she manifested any 
 
 6
 
 Thus it /ins happened that the education of 'the father, daughter, and 
 granddaughter has devolved on me.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 desire to be made acquainted with the circumstances which 
 attended the death of Lady Belmont, and the birth of her 
 helpless child. 
 
 That child, Madam, shall never, while life is lent me, know 
 the loss she has sustained. I have cherished, succoured, and 
 supported her, from her earliest infancy to her sixteenth year ; 
 and so amply has she repaid my care and affection, that my 
 fondest wish is now circumscribed by the desire of bestowing 
 her on one who may be sensible of her worth, and then sinking 
 to eternal rest in her arms. 
 
 Thus it has happened that the education of the father, 
 daughter, and granddaughter has devolved on me. What 
 infinite misery have the two first caused me ! Should the fate 
 of the dear survivor be equally adverse, how wretched will be 
 the end of my cares — the end of my days ! 
 
 Even had Madame Duval merited the charge she claims, I 
 fear my fortitude would have been unequal to such a parting ; 
 but, being such as she is, not only my affection, but my 
 humanity recoils, at the barbarous idea of deserting the sacred 
 trust reposed in me. Indeed, I could but ill support her 
 former yearly visits to the respectable mansion at Howard 
 Grove ; pardon me, dear Madam, and do not think me in- 
 sensible of the honour which your Ladyship's condescension 
 confers upon us both ; but so deep is the impression which the 
 misfortunes of her mother have made on my heart, that she 
 does not, even for a moment, quit my sight, without exciting 
 apprehensions and terrors which almost overpower me. Such, 
 Madam, is my tenderness, and such my weakness ! — But she 
 is the only tie I have upon earth, and I trust to your Ladyship's 
 goodness not to judge of my feelings with severity. 
 
 I beg leave to present my humble respects to Mrs. and 
 Miss Mirvan ; and have the honour to be, Madam, your 
 Ladyship's most obedient and most humble servant, 
 
 Arthur Villars.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 LETTER III 
 [Written some months after the last.] 
 
 LADY HOWARD TO THE KEY. MR. YILLARS 
 
 Howard Grove, March 8. 
 
 Dear and Rev. Sir — Your last letter gave me infinite 
 pleasure : after so long and tedious an illness, how grateful to 
 yourself and to your friends must be your returning health ! 
 You have the hearty wishes of every individual of this place 
 for its continuance and increase. 
 
 Will you not think I take advantage of your acknowledged 
 recovery, if I once more venture to mention your pupil and 
 Howard Grove together ? Yet you must remember the patience 
 with which we submitted to your desire of not parting with her 
 during the bad state of your health, though it was with much 
 reluctance we forbore to solicit her company. My grand- 
 daughter, in particular, has scarce been able to repress her 
 eagerness to again meet the friend of her infancy ; and for my 
 own part, it is very strongly my wish to manifest the regard I 
 had for the unfortunate Lady Belmont, by proving serviceable 
 to her child, which seems to me the best respect that can be 
 paid to her memory. Permit me, therefore, to lay before you 
 a plan which Mrs. Mirvan and I have formed, in consequence 
 of your restoration to health. 
 
 I would not frighten you ; — but do you think you could 
 bear to part with your young companion for two or three 
 months ? Mrs. Mirvan proposes to spend the ensuing spring 
 in London, whither, for the first time, my grandchild will 
 accompany her. Now, my good friend, it is very earnestly 
 their wish to enlarge and enliven their party by the addition 
 of your amiable ward, who would share, equally with her own 
 daughter, the care and attention of Mrs. Mirvan. Do not 
 start at this proposal ; it is time that she should see something 
 of the world. When young people are too rigidly sequestered 
 from it, their lively and romantic imaginations paint it to them 
 as a paradise of which they have been beguiled ; but when 
 they are shown it properly, and in due time, they see it such 
 
 9
 
 EVELINA 
 
 as it really is, equally shared by pain and pleasure, hope and 
 disappointment. 
 
 You have nothing to apprehend from her meeting with Sir 
 John Belmont, as that abandoned man is now abroad, and not 
 expected home this year. 
 
 Well, my good Sir, what say you to our scheme ? I hope 
 it will meet with your approbation ; but if it should not, be 
 assured I can never object to any decision of one who is so 
 much respected and esteemed as Mr. Villars, by his most 
 faithful humble servant, M. Howard. 
 
 LETTER IV 
 
 MR. VILLARS TO LADY HOWARD 
 
 Berry Hill, March 12. 
 
 I am grieved, Madam, to appear obstinate, and I blush to 
 incur the imputation of selfishness. In detaining my young 
 charge thus long with myself in the country, I consulted not 
 solely my own inclination. Destined, in all probability, to 
 possess a very moderate fortune, I wished to contract her 
 views to something within it. The mind is but too naturally 
 prone to pleasure, but too easily yielded to dissipation : it 
 has been my study to guard her against their delusions, by 
 preparing her to expect, and to despise them. But the time 
 draws on for experience and observation to take place of 
 instruction : if I have, in some measure, rendered her capable 
 of using one with discretion, and making the other with 
 improvement, I shall rejoice myself with the assurance of 
 having largely contributed to her welfare. She is now of an 
 age that happiness is eager to attend, — let her then enjoy it ! 
 I commit her to the protection of your Ladyship, and only 
 hope she may be found worthy half the goodness I am satisfied 
 she will meet with at your hospitable mansion. 
 
 Thus far, Madam, I cheerfully submit to your desire. In 
 confiding my ward to the care of Lady Howard, I can feel no 
 uneasiness from her absence, but what will arise from the loss 
 of her company, since I shall be as well convinced of her safety 
 as if she were under my own roof; — -but, can your Ladyship 
 
 10
 
 EVELINA 
 
 be serious in proposing to introduce her to the gaieties of a 
 London life ? Permit me to ask, for what end, or what 
 purpose? A youthful mind is seldom totally free from am- 
 bition ; to curb that is the first step to contentment, since to 
 diminish expectation is to increase enjoyment. I apprehend 
 nothing more than too much raising her hopes and her views, 
 which the natural vivacity of her disposition would render but 
 too easy to effect. The town acquaintance of Mrs. Mirvan 
 are all in the circle of high life ; this artless young creature, 
 with too much beauty to escape notice, has too much sensibility 
 to be indifferent to it ; but she has too little wealth to be 
 sought with propriety by men of the fashionable world. 
 
 Consider, Madam, the peculiar cruelty of her situation ; 
 only child of a wealthy baronet, whose person she has never 
 seen, whose character she has reason to abhor, and whose 
 name she is forbidden to claim ; entitled as she is to lawfully 
 inherit his fortune and estate, is there any probability that he 
 will properly own her ? And while he continues to persevere 
 in disavowing his marriage with Miss Evelyn, she shall never, 
 at the expense of her mother's honour, receive a part of her 
 right as the donation of his bounty. 
 
 And as to Mr. Evelyn's estate, I have no doubt but that 
 Madame Duval and her relations will dispose of it among 
 themselves. 
 
 It seems, therefore, as if this deserted child, though legally 
 heiress of two large fortunes, must owe all her rational expecta- 
 tions to adoption and friendship. Yet her income will be such 
 as may make her happy, if she is disposed to be so in private 
 life ; though it will by no means allow her to enjoy the luxury 
 of a London fine lady. 
 
 Let Miss Mirvan, then, Madam, shine in all the splendour 
 of high life ; but suffer my child still to enjoy the pleasures of 
 humble retirement, with a mind to which greater views are 
 unknown. 
 
 I hope this reasoning will be honoured with your approba- 
 tion ; and I have yet another motive which has some weight 
 with me : I would not willingly give offence to any human 
 being, and surely Madame Duval might accuse me of injustice, 
 if, while I refuse to let her granddaughter wait upon her, I 
 consent that she should join a party of pleasure to London. 
 
 In sending her to Howard Grove, not one of these scruples 
 ii
 
 EVELINA 
 
 arise ; and therefore Mrs. Clinton, a most worthy woman, 
 formerly her nurse, and now my housekeeper, shall attend her 
 thither next week. 
 
 Though I have always called her by the name of Anville, 
 and reported in this neighbourhood that her father, my intimate 
 friend, left her to my guardianship, yet I have thought it 
 necessary she should herself be acquainted with the melancholy 
 circumstances attending her birth ; for, though I am very 
 desirous of guarding her from curiosity and impertinence, by 
 concealing her name, family, and story, yet I would not leave 
 it in the power of chance, to shock her gentle nature with a 
 tale of so much sorrow. 
 
 You must not, Madam, expect too much from my pupil. 
 She is quite a little rustic, and knows nothing of the world ; 
 and though her education has been the best I could bestow in 
 this retired place, to which Dorchester, the nearest town, is 
 seven miles distant, yet I shall not be surprised if you should 
 discover in her a thousand deficiencies of which I have never 
 dreamt. She must be very much altered since she was last at 
 Howard Grove, — but I will say nothing to her ; I leave her 
 to your Ladyship's own observations, of which I beg a faithful 
 relation ; and am, Dear Madam, with great respect, your 
 obedient and most humble servant, Arthur Yillars. 
 
 LETTER V 
 
 MR. VILLARS TO LADY HOWARD 
 
 March 1 8. 
 
 Dear Madam — This letter will be delivered to you by my 
 child — the child of my adoption — my affection ! Unblest with 
 one natural friend, she merits a thousand. I send her to you, 
 innocent as an angel, and artless as purity itself: and I send 
 you with her the heart of your friend, the only hope he has on 
 earth, the subject of his tenderest thoughts, and the object of 
 his latest cares. She is one, Madam, for whom alone I have 
 lately wished to live ; and she is one whom to serve I would 
 with transport die ! Restore her but to me all innocence as 
 you receive her, and the fondest hope of my heart will be 
 amply gratified. A. YlLLARS. 
 
 12
 
 EVELINA 
 LETTER VI 
 
 LADY HOWARD TO THE REV. MR. VILLARS 
 
 Howard Grove. 
 
 Dear and Rev. Sir — The solemn manner in which you have 
 committed your child to my care, has in some measure damped 
 the pleasure which I receive from the trust, as it makes me 
 fear that you suffer from your compliance, in which case I shall 
 very sincerely blame myself for the earnestness with which 1 
 have requested this favour ; but remember, my good Sir, she 
 is within a few days' summons, and be assured I will not 
 detain her a moment longer than you wish. 
 
 You desire my opinion of her. 
 
 She is a little angel ! I cannot wonder that you sought to 
 monopolise her. Neither ought you, at finding it impossible. 
 
 Her face and person answer my most refined ideas of 
 complete beauty : and this, though a subject of praise less 
 important to you, or to me, than any other, is yet so striking, 
 it is not possible to pass it unnoticed. Had I not known from 
 whom she received her education, I should, at first sight of so 
 perfect a face, have been in pain for her understanding ; since 
 it has been long and justly remarked, that folly has ever sought 
 alliance with beauty. 
 
 She has the same gentleness in her manners, the same 
 natural grace in her motions, that I formerly so much admired 
 in her mother. Her character seems truly ingenuous and 
 simple ; and, at the same time that nature has blessed her 
 with an excellent understanding, and great quickness of parts, 
 she has a certain air of inexperience and innocency that is 
 extremely interesting. 
 
 You have no reason to regret the retirement in which she 
 has lived ; since that politeness which is acquired by an ac- 
 quaintance with high life, is in her so well supplied by a 
 natural desire of obliging, joined to a deportment infinitely 
 engaging. 
 
 I observe with great satisfaction a growing affection between 
 tliis amiable girl and my granddaughter, whose heart is as free 
 from selfishness or conceit, as that of her young friend is from 
 
 13
 
 EVELINA 
 
 all guile. Their regard may be mutually useful, since much is 
 to be expected from emulation, where nothing is to be feared 
 from envy. I would have them love each other as sisters, and 
 reciprocally supply the place of that tender and happy relation- 
 ship, to which neither of them have a natural claim. 
 
 Be satisfied, my good Sir, that your child shall meet with 
 the same attention as our own. We all join in most hearty 
 wishes for your health and happiness, and in returning our 
 sincere thanks for the favour you have conferred on us. — I am, 
 Dear Sir, your most faithful servant, M. Howard. 
 
 LETTER VII 
 
 LADY HOWARD TO THE REV. .MR. VILLARS 
 
 Howard Grove, March 26. 
 
 Be not alarmed, my worthy friend, at my so speedily troubling 
 you again ; I seldom use the ceremony of waiting for answers, 
 or writing with any regularity, and I have at present immediate 
 occasion for begging your patience. 
 
 Mrs. Mirvan has just received a letter from her long-absent 
 husband, containing the welcome news of his hoping to reach 
 London by the beginning of next week. My daughter and the 
 Captain have been separated almost seven years, and it would 
 therefore be needless to say what joy, surprise, and consequently 
 confusion, his, at present, unexpected return has caused at 
 Howard Grove. Mrs. Mirvan, you cannot doubt, will go 
 instantly to town to meet him ; her daughter is under a 
 thousand obligations to attend her ; I grieve that her mother 
 cannot. 
 
 And now, my good Sir, I almost blush to proceed ; — but, 
 tell me, may I ask — will you permit — that your child may 
 accompany them ? Do not think us unreasonable, but con- 
 sider the many inducements which conspire to make London 
 the happiest place at present she can be in. The joyful 
 occasion of the journey ; the gaiety of the whole party ; opposed 
 to the dull life she must lead if left here, with a solitary old 
 woman for her sole companion, while she so well knows the 
 cheerfulness and felicity enjoyed by the rest of the family, —
 
 EVELINA 
 
 are circumstances that seem to merit your consideration. Mrs. 
 Mirvan desires me to assure you, that one week is all she asks, 
 as she is certain that the Captain, who hates London, will be 
 eager to revisit Howard Grove : and Maria is so very earnest 
 in wishing to have the company of her friend, that, if you are 
 inexorable, she will be deprived of half the pleasure she other- 
 wise hopes to receive. 
 
 However, I will not, my good Sir, deceive you into an 
 opinion that they intend to live in a retired manner, as that 
 cannot be fairly expected. But you have no reason to be uneasy 
 concerning Madame Duval ; she has not any correspondent in 
 England, and obtains no intelligence but by common report. 
 She must be a stranger to the name your child bears ; and, 
 even should she hear of this excursion, so short a time as a 
 week, or less, spent in town upon so particular an occasion, 
 though previous to their meeting, cannot be construed into 
 disrespect to herself. 
 
 Mrs. Mirvan desires me to assure you, that if you will oblige 
 her, her two children shall equally share her time and her 
 attention. She has sent a commission to a friend in town to 
 take a house for her, and while she waits for an answer con- 
 cerning it, I shall for one from you to our petition. However, 
 your child is writing herself, and that, I doubt not, will more 
 avail than all we can possibly urge. 
 
 My daughter desires her best compliments to you, if, she 
 says, you will grant her request, but not else. 
 
 Adieu, my dear Sir, — we all hope everything from your 
 goodness. M. Howard. 
 
 LETTER VIII 
 
 EVELINA TO THE REV. MR. VILLARS 
 
 Howard Grove, March 26. 
 This house seems to be the house of joy ; every face wears 
 a smile, and a laugh is at everybody's service. It is quite 
 amusing to walk about, and see the general confusion ; a room 
 leading to the garden is fitting up for Captain Mirvan's study. 
 Lady Howard does not sit a moment in a place ; Miss Mirvan 
 
 J 5
 
 EVELINA 
 
 is making caps ; everybody so busy ! — such flying from room 
 to room ! — so many orders given, and retracted, and given 
 again ! — nothing but hurry and perturbation. 
 
 Well but, my dear Sir, I am desired to make a request to 
 you. I hope you will not think me an encroacher ; Lady 
 Howard insists upon my writing '—yet I hardly know how to 
 go on ; a petition implies a want, — and have you left me one ? 
 No, indeed. 
 
 I am half ashamed of myself for beginning this letter. But 
 these dear ladies are so pressing — I cannot, for my life, resist 
 wishing for the pleasures they offer me, — provided you do not 
 disapprove them. 
 
 They are to make a very short stay in town. The Captain 
 will meet them in a day or two. Mrs. Mirvan and her sweet 
 daughter both go ; — what a happy party ! Yet I am not very 
 eager to accompany them : at least, I shall be contented to 
 remain where I am, if you desire that I should. 
 
 Assured, my dearest Sir, of your goodness, your bounty, 
 and your indulgent kindness, ought I to form a wish that has 
 not your sanction ? Decide for me, therefore, without the 
 least apprehension that I shall be uneasy, or discontented. 
 While I am yet in suspense, perhaps I may hope, but I am 
 most certain, that when you have once determined, I shall not 
 repine. 
 
 They tell me that London is now in full splendour. Two 
 Play-houses are open, — the Opera-house — Ranelagh — and 
 the Pantheon. — You see I have learned all their names. How- 
 ever, pray don't suppose that I make any point of going, for 
 I shall hardly sigh to see them depart without me ; though I 
 shall probably never meet with such another opportunity. 
 And, indeed, their domestic happiness will be so great, — it is 
 natural to wish to partake of it. 
 
 I believe I am bewitched ! I made a resolution when I 
 began, that I would not be urgent ; but my pen — or rather 
 my thoughts, will not suffer me to keep it — for I acknowledge, 
 I must acknowledge, I cannot help wishing for your permission. 
 
 I almost repent already that I have made this confession ; 
 pray forget that you have read it, if this journey is displeasing 
 to you. But I will not write any longer ; for the more I think 
 of this affair, the less indifferent to it I find myself. 
 
 Adieu, my most honoured, most reverenced, most beloved 
 16
 
 EVELINA 
 
 father ! for by what other name can I call you ? I have no 
 happiness or sorrow, no hope or fear, but what your kindness 
 bestows, or your displeasure may cause. You will not, I am 
 sure, send a refusal, without reasons unanswerable, and there- 
 fore I shall cheerfully acquiesce. Yet I hope — I hope you 
 will be able to permit me to go! — I am, with the utmost 
 affection, gratitude, and duty, your Evelina . 
 
 I cannot to you sign A/iville, and what other name may 
 I claim ? 
 
 LETTER IX 
 
 MR. VILLARS TO EVELINA 
 
 Berry Hill, March 28. 
 
 To resist the urgency of entreaty, is a power which I have 
 not yet acquired : I aim not at an authority which deprives you 
 of liberty, yet I would fain guide myself by a prudence which 
 should save me the pangs of repentance. Your impatience to 
 fly to a place which your imagination has painted to you in 
 colours so attractive, surprises me not ; I have only to hope 
 that the liveliness of your fancy may not deceive you : to 
 refuse, would be raising it still higher. To see my Evelina 
 happy, is to see myself without a wish : go then, my child, 
 and may that Heaven which alone can, direct, preserve, and 
 strengthen you ! To that, my love, will I daily offer prayers 
 for your felicity ; O may it guard, watch over you ! defend 
 you from danger, save you from distress, and keep vice as 
 distant from your person as from your heart ! And to me, 
 may it grant the ultimate blessing of closing these aged eyes 
 in the arms of one so dear, so deservedly beloved ! 
 
 Arthur Yillars. 
 
 '7
 
 EVELINA 
 LETTER X 
 
 EVELINA TO THE REV. MR. VILLARS 
 
 Queen Ann Street, London, Saturday, April 2. 
 
 This moment arrived. Just going to Drury Lane Theatre. 
 The celebrated Mr. Garrick performs Ranger. I am quite in 
 ecstasy. So is Miss Mirvan. How fortunate, that he should 
 happen to play ! We would not let Mrs. Mirvan rest till she 
 consented to go ; her chief objection was to our dress, for we 
 have had no time to Londonise ourselves ; but we teased her 
 into compliance, and so we are to sit in some obscure place, 
 that she may not be seen. As to me, I should be alike un- 
 known in the most conspicuous or most private part of the 
 house. 
 
 I can write no more now. I have hardly time to breathe 
 — only just this, the houses and streets are not quite so superb 
 as I expected. However, I have seen nothing yet, so I ought 
 not to judge. 
 
 Well, adieu, my dearest Sir, for the present ; I could not 
 forbear writing a few words instantly on my arrival ; though I 
 suppose my letter of thanks for your consent is still on the road. 
 
 Saturday Night. 
 
 my dear Sir, in what raptures am I returned ! Well 
 may Mr. Garrick be so celebrated, so universally admired— I 
 had not any idea of so great a performer. 
 
 Such ease! such vivacity in his manner! such grace in his 
 motions ! such fire and meaning in his eyes ! — 1 could hardly 
 believe he had studied a written part, for every word seemed 
 to be uttered from the impulse of the moment. 
 
 His action — at once so graceful and so free ! — his voice — 
 so clear, so melodious, yet so wonderfully various in its tones 
 — such animation ! — every look speaks J 
 
 1 would have given the world to have had the whole play 
 acted over again. And when he danced — O how I envied 
 Clarinda ! I almost wished to have jumped on the stage and 
 joined them. 
 
 I am afraid you will think me mad, so I won't say any 
 18
 
 EVELINA 
 
 more ; yet I really believe Mr. Garrick would make you mad 
 too, if you could see him. I intend to ask Mrs. Mirvan to go 
 to the play every night while we stay in town. She is extremely 
 kind to me ; and Maria, her charming daughter, is the sweetest 
 girl in the world. 
 
 I shall write to you every evening all that passes in the 
 day, and that in the same manner as, if I could see, I should 
 tell you. 
 
 Sunday. 
 
 This morning we went to Portland Chapel, and afterwards 
 we walked in the Mall of St. James's Park, which by no 
 means answered my expectations : it is a long straight walk, 
 of dirty gravel, very uneasy to the feet ; and at each end, 
 instead of an open prospect, nothing is to be seen but houses 
 built of brick. When Mrs. Mirvan pointed out the Palace to 
 me — I think I was never much more surprised. 
 
 However, the walk was very agreeable to us ; everybody 
 looked gay, and seemed pleased, and the ladies were so much 
 dressedj that Miss Mirvan and I could do nothing but look at 
 them. Mrs. Mirvan met several of her friends. No wonder, 
 for I never saw so many people assembled together before. I 
 looked about for some of my acquaintance, but in vain, for I 
 saw not one person that I knew, which is very odd, for all the 
 world seemed there. 
 
 Mrs. Mirvan says we are not to walk in the Park again 
 next Sunday, even if we should be in town, because there is 
 better company in Kensington Gardens. But really if you 
 had seen how much everybody was dressed, you would not 
 think that possible. 
 
 Monday 
 We are to go this evening to a private ball, given by Mrs. 
 Stanley, a very fashionable lady of Mrs. Mirvan's acquaintance. 
 We have been a-shopping, as Mrs. Mirvan calls it, all this 
 morning, to buy silks, caps, gauzes, and so forth. 
 
 The shops are really very entertaining, especially the 
 mercers ; there seem to be six or seven men belonging to 
 each shop, and every one took care, by bowing and smirking, 
 to be noticed ; we were conducted from one to another, and 
 carried from room to room, with so much ceremony, that at 
 first I was almost afraid to go on. 
 
 *9
 
 Dressing »iy hair.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 1 thought I should never have chosen a silk, for they 
 produced so many I knew not which to fix upon, and they 
 recommended them all so strongly, that I fancy they thought 
 I only wanted persuasion to buy everything they showed me. 
 And, indeed, they took so much trouble, that I was almost 
 ashamed I could not. 
 
 At the milliner's, the ladies we met were so much dressed, 
 that I should rather have imagined they were making visits 
 than purchases. But what most diverted me was, that we 
 were more frequently served by men than by women ; and 
 such men ! so finical, so affected ! they seemed to understand 
 every part of a woman's dress better than we do ourselves ; 
 and they recommended caps and ribbands with an air of so 
 much importance, that I wished to ask them how long they 
 had left off wearing them. 
 
 The dispatch with which they work in these great shops is 
 amazing, for they have promised me a complete suit of linen 
 against the evening. 
 
 I have just had my hair dressed. You can't think how 
 oddly my head feels ; full of powder and black pins, and a 
 great cushion on the top of it. I believe you would hardly 
 know me, for my face looks quite different to what it did 
 before my hair was dressed. When I shall be able to make 
 use of a comb for myself I cannot tell, for my hair is so much 
 entangled, frizzled they call it, that I fear it will be very difficult. 
 
 I am half afraid of this ball to-night, for, you know, I have 
 never danced but at school ; however, Miss Mirvan says there 
 is nothing in it. Vet I wish it was over. 
 
 Adieu, my dear Sir ; pray excuse the wretched stuff" I write ; 
 perhaps I may improve by being in this town, and then my 
 letters will be less unworthy your reading. Meantime I am, 
 your dutiful and affectionate, though unpolished, 
 
 Evelina. 
 
 Poor Miss Mirvan cannot wear one of the caps she made, 
 because they dress her hair too large for them.
 
 EVELINA 
 LETTER XI 
 
 EVELINA IN CONTINUATION 
 
 Queen Ann Street, April 5, Tuesday Morning. 
 
 I have a vast deal to say, and shall give all this morning to 
 my pen. As to my plan of writing every evening the adventures 
 of the day, I find it impracticable ; for the diversions here are 
 so very late, that if I begin my letters after them, I could not 
 go to bed at all. 
 
 We passed a most extraordinary evening, ^.private ball this 
 was called, so I expected to have seen about four or five 
 couple ; but Lord ! my dear Sir, I believe I saw half the 
 world ! Two very large rooms were full of company ; in one, 
 were cards for the elderly ladies, and in the other, were the 
 dancers. My mamma Mirvan, for she always calls me her 
 child, said she would sit with Maria and me till we were 
 provided with partners, and then join the card-players. 
 
 The gentlemen, as they passed and repassed, looked as if 
 they thought we were quite at their disposal, and only waiting 
 for the honour of their commands ; and they sauntered about, 
 in a careless indolent manner, as if with a view to keep us in 
 suspense. I don't speak of this in regard to Miss Mirvan and 
 myself only, but to the ladies in general ; and I thought it so 
 provoking, that I determined, in my own mind, that, far from 
 humouring such airs, I would rather not dance at all, than 
 with any cne who should seem to think me ready to accept the 
 first partner who would condescend to take me. 
 
 Not long after, a young man, who had for some time looked 
 at us with a kind of negligent impertinence, advanced, on tip- 
 toe, towards me ; he had a set smile on his face, and his dress 
 was so foppish, that I really believe he even wished to be 
 stared at ; and yet he was very ugly. 
 
 Bowing almost to the ground, with a sort of swing, and 
 waving his hand with the greatest conceit, after a short and silly 
 pause, he said, ' Madam — may I presume ? ' — and stopped, 
 offering to take my hand. I drew it back, but could scarce 
 forbear laughing. 'Allow me, Madam' (continued he, 
 affectedly breaking off every half moment), ' the honour and 
 
 22
 
 
 ' Madam— -may I presume ? '
 
 EVELINA 
 
 happiness — if I am not so unhappy as to address you too late 
 — to have the happiness and honour 
 
 Again he would have taken my hand, but, bowing my head, 
 I begged to be excused, and turned to Miss Mirvan to conceal 
 my laughter. He then desired to know if I had already 
 engaged myself to some more fortunate man ? I said No, 
 and that I believed I should not dance at all. He would 
 keep himself, he told me, disengaged, in hopes I should 
 relent ; and then, uttering r some ridiculous speeches of sorrow 
 and disappointment, though his face still wore the same 
 invariable smile, he retreated. 
 
 It so happened, as we have since recollected, that during 
 this little dialogue Mrs. Mirvan was conversing with the lady 
 of the house. And very soon after another gentleman, who 
 seemed about six-and-twenty years old, gaily, but not foppishly, 
 dressed, and indeed extremely handsome, with an air of mixed 
 politeness and gallantry, desired to know if I was engaged, or 
 would honour him with my hand. So he was pleased to say, 
 though I am sure I know not what honour he could receive 
 from me ; but these sort of expressions, I find, are used as 
 words of course, without any distinction of persons, or study 
 of propriety. 
 
 Well, I bowed, and I am sure I coloured ; for indeed I 
 was frightened at the thoughts of dancing before so many 
 people, all strangers, and, which was worse, with a stranger ; 
 however, that was unavoidable, for though I looked round the 
 room several times, I could not see one person that I knew. 
 And so, he took my hand, and led me to join in the dance. 
 
 The minuets were over before we arrived, for we were kept 
 late by the milliner's making us wait for our things. 
 
 He seemed very desirous of entering into conversation with 
 me ; but I was seized with such a panic, that I could hardly 
 speak a word, and nothing but the shame of so soon changing 
 my mind, prevented my returning to my seat, and declining to 
 dance at all. 
 
 He appeared to be surprised at my terror, which I believe 
 was but too apparent : however, he asked no questions, though 
 I fear he must think it very strange ; for I did not choose to 
 tell him it was owing to my never before dancing but with a 
 schoolgirl. 
 
 His conversation was sensible and spirited ; his air and 
 
 24
 
 EVELINA 
 
 address were open and noble ; his manners gentle, attentive, 
 and infinitely engaging ; his person is all elegance, and his 
 countenance the most animated and expressive I have ever 
 seen. 
 
 In a short time we were joined by Miss Mirvan, who 
 stood next couple to us. But how was I startled, when she 
 whispered me that my partner was a nobleman ! This gave 
 me a new alarm ; how will he be provoked, thought I, when 
 he finds what a simple rustic he has honoured with his choice \ 
 one whose ignorance of the world makes her perpetually feat 
 doing something wrong ! 
 
 That he should be so much my superior every way, quite 
 disconcerted me ; and you will suppose my spirits were not 
 much raised, when I heard a lady, in passing us, say, ' This 
 is the most difficult dance I ever saw.' 
 
 'O dear, then,' cried Maria to her partner, * with your 
 leave, I'll sit down till the next.' 
 
 ' So will I too, then,' cried I, ' for I am sure I can hardly 
 stand.' 
 
 'But you must speak to your partner first,' answered she ; 
 for he had turned aside to talk with some gentlemen. How- 
 ever, I had not sufficient courage to address him, and so away 
 we all three tripped, and seated ourselves at another end of 
 the room. 
 
 But, unfortunately for me, Miss Mirvan soon after suffered 
 herself to be prevailed upon to attempt the dance ; and just as 
 she rose to go, she cried, ' My dear, yonder is your partner, 
 Lord Orville, walking about the room in search of you.' 
 
 ' Don't leave me then, dear girl ! ' cried I ; but she was 
 obliged to go. And now I was more uneasy than ever ; I 
 would have given the world to have seen Mrs. Mirvan, and 
 begged of her to make my apologies , for what, thought I, can 
 I possibly say to him in excuse for running away ? he must 
 either conclude me a fool, or half mad ; for any one brought 
 up in the great world, and accustomed to its ways, can have 
 no idea of such sort of fears as mine. 
 
 My confusion increased when I observed that he was every- 
 where seeking me, with apparent perplexity and surprise ; but 
 when, at last, I saw him move towards the place where I sat, 
 I was ready to sink with shame and distress. I found it 
 absolutely impossible to keep my seat, because I could not 
 
 25
 
 EVELINA 
 
 think of a word to say for myself, and so I rose, and walked 
 hastily towards the card-room, resolving to stay with Mrs. 
 Mirvan the rest of the evening, and not to dance at all. But 
 before I could find her, Lord Orville saw and approached me. 
 
 He begged to know if I was not well ? You may easily 
 imagine how much I was embarrassed. I made no answer, 
 but hung my head, like a fool, and looked on my fan. 
 
 He then, with an air the most respectfully serious, asked if 
 he had been so unhappy as to offend me. 
 
 'No, indeed!' cried I: and, in hopes of changing the 
 discourse, and preventing his further inquiries, I desired to 
 know if he had seen the young lady who had been conversing 
 with me. 
 
 No ; but would I honour him with any commands to her ? 
 
 ' O by no means ! ' 
 
 Was there any other person with whom I wished to speak ? 
 
 I said no, before I knew I had answered at all. 
 
 Should he have the pleasure of bringing me any refreshment ? 
 
 I bowed, almost involuntarily. And away he flew. 
 
 I was quite ashamed of being so troublesome, and so much 
 above myself as these seeming airs made me appear ; but 
 indeed I was too much confused to think or act with any 
 consistency. 
 
 If he had not been swift as lightning, I don't know whether 
 I should not have stolen away again ; but he returned in a 
 moment. When I had drunk a glass of lemonade, he hoped, 
 he said, that I would again honour him with my hand, as a 
 new dance was just begun. I had not the presence of mind 
 to say a single word, and so I let him once more lead me to 
 the place I had left. 
 
 Shocked to find how silly, how childish a part I had acted, 
 my former fears of dancing before such a company, and with 
 such a partner, returned more forcibly than ever. I suppose 
 he perceived my uneasiness, for he entreated me to sit down 
 again, if dancing was disagreeable to me. But I was quite 
 satisfied with the folly I had already shown, and therefore 
 declined his offer, tho' I was really scarce able to stand. 
 
 Under such conscious disadvantages, you may easily 
 imagine, my dear Sir, how ill I acquitted myself. But, though 
 I both expected and deserved to find him very much mortified 
 and displeased at his ill fortune in the choice he had made, 
 
 26
 
 EVELINA 
 
 yet, to my very great relief, he appeared to be even contented, 
 and very much assisted and encouraged me. These people in 
 high life have too much presence of mind, I believe, to seem 
 disconcerted, or out of humour, however they may feel : for 
 had I been the person of the most consequence in the room, 
 I could not have met with more attention and respect. 
 
 When the dance was over, seeing me still very much 
 flurried, he led me to a seat, saying that he would not suffer 
 me to fatigue myself from politeness. 
 
 And then, if my capacity, or even if my spirits had been 
 better, in how animated a conversation might 1 have been 
 engaged ! It was then I saw that the rank of Lord Orville 
 was his least recommendation, his understanding and his 
 manners being far more distinguished. His remarks upon the 
 company in general were so apt, so just, so lively, I am almost 
 surprised myself that they did not reanimate me ; but indeed 
 I was too well convinced of the ridiculous part I had myself 
 played before so nice an observer, to be able to enjoy his 
 pleasantry : so self-compassion gave me feeling for others. 
 Yet I had not the courage to attempt either to defend 
 them, or to rally in my turn, but listened to him in silent 
 embarrassment. 
 
 When he found this, he changed the subject, and talked of 
 public places, and public performers ; but he soon discovered 
 that I was totally ignorant of them. 
 
 He then, very ingeniously, turned the discourse to the 
 amusements and occupations of the country. 
 
 It now struck me, that he was resolved to try whether or 
 not I was capable of talking upon any subject. This put so 
 great a constraint upon my thoughts, that I was unable to go 
 further than a monosyllable, and not even so far, when I could 
 possibly avoid it. __ 
 
 We were sitting in this manner, he conversing with all 
 gaiety, I looking down with all foolishness, when that fop who 
 had first asked me to dance, with a most ridiculous solemnity, 
 approached, and after a profound bow or two, said, ' I humbly 
 beg pardon, Madam, — and of you too, my Lord, — for breaking 
 in upon such agreeable conversation— which must, doubtless, 
 be much more delectable — than what I have the honour to 
 offer — but ' 
 
 I interrupted him — I blush for my folly, — with laughing : 
 27
 
 EVELINA 
 
 yet I could not help it, for, added to the man's stately foppish- 
 ness (and he actually took snuff between every three words), 
 when I looked round at Lord Orville, I saw such extreme 
 surprise in his face, — the cause of which appeared so absurd, 
 that I could not for my life preserve my gravity. 
 
 I had not laughed before from the time I had left Miss 
 Mirvan, and I had much better have cried then ; Lord Orville 
 actually stared at me ; the beau, I know not his name, looked 
 quite enraged. ' Refrain — Madam ' (said he, with an important 
 air), 'a few moments refrain ! — I have but a sentence to trouble 
 you with. — May I know to what accident I must attribute not 
 having the honour of your hand ? ' 
 
 ' Accident, Sir ! ' repeated I, much astonished. 
 
 'Yes, accident, Madam — for surely, — I must take the 
 liberty to observe — pardon me, Madam, — it ought to be no 
 common one — that should tempt a lady — -so young a one too, 
 — to be guilty of ill manners.' 
 
 A confused idea now for the first time entered my head, of 
 something I had heard of the rules of an assembly ; but I was 
 never at one before, — I have only danced at school, — and so 
 giddy and heedless I was, that I had not once considered the 
 impropriety of refusing one partner, and afterwards accepting 
 another. I was thunderstruck at the recollection : but, while 
 these thoughts were rushing into my head, Lord Orville, with 
 some warmth, said, ' This lady, Sir, is incapable of meriting 
 such an accusation ! ' 
 
 The creature — for I am very angry with him — made a low 
 bow, and with a grin the most malicious I ever saw, • My 
 Lord,' said he, ' far be it from me to accuse the lady, for 
 having the discernment to distinguish and prefer — the superior 
 attractions of your Lordship.' 
 
 Again he bowed, and walked off. 
 
 Was ever anything so provoking ? I was ready to die 
 with shame. ' What a coxcomb ! ' exclaimed Lord Orville ; 
 while I, without knowing what I did, rose hastily, and moving 
 off, 'I can't imagine,' cried I, 'where Mrs. Mirvan has hid 
 herself ! ' 
 
 ' Give me leave to see,' answered he. I bowed and sat 
 down again, not daring to meet his eyes ; for what must he 
 think of me, between my blunder, and the supposed preference ? 
 
 He returned in a moment, and told me that Mrs. Mirvan 
 28
 
 EVELINA 
 
 was at cards, but would be glad to see me ; and I went 
 immediately. There was but one chair vacant, so, to my 
 great relief, Lord Orville presently left us. I then told Mrs. 
 Mirvan my disasters, and she good-naturedly blamed herself 
 for not having better instructed me, but said she had taken it 
 for granted that I must know such common customs. How- 
 ever, the man may, I think, be satisfied with his pretty speech, 
 and carry his resentment no farther. 
 
 In a short time, Lord Orville returned. I consented, with 
 the best grace I could, to go down another dance, for I had 
 had time to recollect myself, and therefore resolved to use some 
 exertion, and, if possible, appear less a fool than I had hitherto 
 done ; for it occurred to me that, insignificant as I was, com- 
 pared to a man of his rank and figure, yet, since he had been 
 so unfortunate as to make choice of me for a partner, why, I 
 should endeavour to make the best of it. 
 
 The dance, however, was short, and he spoke very little ; 
 so I had no opportunity of putting my resolution in practice. 
 He was satisfied, I suppose, with his former successless efforts 
 to draw me out : or, rather, I fancied, he had been inquiring 
 who I 7uas. This again disconcerted me, and the spirits I 
 had determined to exert, again failed me. Tired, ashamed, 
 and mortified, I begged to sit down till we returned home, 
 which I did soon after. Lord Orville did me the honour to 
 hand me to the coach, talking all the way of the honour / had 
 done him ! O these fashionable people ! 
 
 Well, my dear Sir, was it not a strange evening- ? I could 
 not help being thus particular, because, to me, even-thing is 
 so new. But it is now time to conclude. — I am, with all love 
 and duty, your Evelina. 
 
 LETTER XII 
 
 EVELINA IN CONTINUATION 
 
 Tuesday, April 5. 
 There is to be no end to the troubles of last night. I have 
 this moment, between persuasion and laughter, gathered from 
 Maria the most curious dialogue that ever I heard. You will, 
 
 29
 
 EVELINA 
 
 at first, be startled at my vanity ; but, my dear Sir, have 
 patience ! 
 
 It must have passed while I was sitting with Mrs. Mirvan 
 in the card-room. Maria was taking some refreshment, and 
 saw Lord Orville advancing for the same purpose himself; but 
 he did not know her, though she immediately recollected him. 
 Presently after, a very gay-looking man, stepping hastily up to 
 him, cried, ' Why, my Lord, what have you done with your 
 lovely partner ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing ! ' answered Lord Orville, with a smile and a 
 shrug. 
 
 ' By Jove,' cried the man, ' she is the most beautiful 
 creature I ever saw in my life ! ' 
 
 Lord Orville, as he well might, laughed, but answered, 
 ' Yes, a pretty modest-looking girl.' 
 
 ' O my Lord ! ' cried the madman, ' she is an angel ! ' 
 
 ' A sile?it one,' returned he. 
 
 ' Why, ay, my Lord, how stands she as to that ? She 
 looks all intelligence and expression.' 
 
 ' A poor weak girl ! ' answered Lord Orville, shaking his 
 head. 
 
 ' By Jove,' cried the other, ' I am glad to hear it ! ' 
 
 At that moment, the same odious creature who had been 
 my former tormentor, joined them. Addressing Lord Orville 
 with great respect, he said, ' I beg pardon, my Lord, — if I 
 was — as I fear might be the case — rather too severe in my 
 censure of the lady who is honoured with your protection — ■ 
 but, my Lord, ill-breeding is apt to provoke a man.' 
 
 ' Ill-breeding ! ' cried my unknown champion ; ' impossible ! 
 that elegant face can never be so vile a mask ! ' 
 
 ' O Sir, as to that,' answered he, ' you must allow me to 
 judge ; for though I pay all deference to your opinion — in 
 other things, — yet I hope you will grant — and I appeal to your 
 Lordship also — that I am not totally despicable as a judge of 
 good or ill manners.' 
 
 ' I was so wholly ignorant,' said Lord Orville gravely, ' of 
 the provocation you might have had, that I could not but be 
 surprised at your singular resentment.' 
 
 ' It was far from my intention,' answered he, ' to offend 
 your Lordship ; but really, for a person who is nobody, to give 
 herself such airs, — I own I could not command my passions, 
 
 3°
 
 ; What have you done with your lovely partner i
 
 EVELINA 
 
 For, my Lord, though I have made diligent inquiry — I cannot 
 learn who she is.' 
 
 ' By what I can make out,' cried my defender, ' she must 
 be a country parson's daughter.' 
 
 ' He ! he ! he ! very good, 'pon honour ! ' cried the fop, — 
 'well, so I could have sworn by her manners.' 
 
 And then, delighted at his own wit, he laughed, and went 
 away, as I suppose, to repeat it. 
 
 ' But what the deuce is all this ?' demanded the other. 
 
 ' Why, a very foolish affair,' answered Lord Orville : ' your 
 Helen first refused this coxcomb, and then — danced with me. 
 This is all I can gather of it.' 
 
 'O Orville,' returned he, 'you are a happy man! — But, 
 ill-bred? — I can never believe it ! And she looks too sensible 
 to be ignorant.' 
 
 ' Whether ignorant or mischievous, I will not pretend to 
 determine, but certain it is, she attended to all / could say 
 to her, though I have really fatigued myself with fruitless 
 endeavours to entertain her, with the most immovable gravity ; 
 but no sooner did Lovel begin his complaint, than she was 
 seized with a fit of laughing, first affronting the poor beau, and 
 then enjoying his mortification.' 
 
 ' Ha ! ha ! ha ! why, there's some genius in that, my Lord, 
 though perhaps rather rustic? 
 
 Here Maria was called to dance, and so heard no more. 
 
 Now, tell me, my dear Sir, did you ever know anything 
 more provoking ? ' A poor iveak girl .' ' ' ignorant or 
 mischievous .' ' What mortifying words ! I am resolved, 
 however, that I will never again be tempted to go to an 
 assembly. I wish I had been in Dorsetshire. 
 
 Well, after this, you will not be surprised that Lord Orville 
 contented himself with an inquiry after our healths this 
 morning, by his servant, without troubling himself to call ; as 
 Miss Mirvan had told me he would : but perhaps it may be 
 only a country custom. 
 
 I would not live here for the world. I care not how soon 
 we leave town. London soon grows tiresome. I wish the 
 Captain would come. Mrs. Mirvan talks of the opera for 
 this evening ; however, I am very indifferent about it. 
 
 32
 
 EVELINA 
 
 Wednesday Morning: 
 
 Well, my dear Sir, I have been pleased against my will, 
 I could almost say, for I must own I went out in very ill- 
 humour, which I think you cannot wonder at : but the music 
 and the singing were charming ; they soothed me into a 
 pleasure the most grateful, the best suited to my present 
 disposition in the world. I hope to persuade Mrs. Mirvan 
 to go again on Saturday. I wish the opera was ever}' night. 
 It is, of all entertainments, the sweetest and most delightful. 
 Some of the songs seemed to melt my very soul. It was 
 what they call a serious opera, as the comic first singer was ill. 
 
 To-night we go to Ranelagh. If any of those three gentle- 
 men who conversed so freely about me should be there — 
 but I won't think of it. 
 
 Thursday Morning. 
 
 Well, my dear Sir, we went to Ranelagh. It is a charming 
 place, and the brilliancy of the lights on my first entrance, 
 made me almost think I was in some enchanted castle, or 
 fairy palace, for all looked like magic to me. 
 
 The very first person I saw was Lord Orville. I felt so con- 
 fused ! — but he did not see me. After tea, Mrs. Mirvan being 
 tired, Maria and I walked round the room alone. Then again 
 we saw him, standing by the orchestra. We, too, stopped to 
 hear a singer. He bowed to me ; I curtsied, and I am 
 sure I coloured. We soon walked on, not liking our situation : 
 however, he did not follow us ; and when we passed by the 
 orchestra again, he was gone. Afterwards, in the course of 
 the evening, we met him several times ; but he was always 
 with some party, and never spoke to us, though whenever he 
 chanced to meet my eyes, he condescended to bow. 
 
 I cannot but be hurt at the opinion he entertains of me. 
 It is true, my own behaviour incurred it — yet he is himself 
 the most agreeable, and, seemingly, the most amiable man 
 in the world, and therefore it is that I am grieved to be 
 thought ill of by him : for of whose esteem ought we to be 
 ambitious, if not of those who most merit our own ? — But it 
 is too late to reflect upon this now. Well, I can't help it. 
 However, I think I have done with assemblies ! 
 
 This morning was destined for seeing sights, auctions, 
 curious shops, and so forth ; but my head ached, and I was 
 
 33 D
 
 "-\]^jKs^ir^\ 
 
 At Ranelagh.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 not in a humour to be amused, and so I made them go without 
 me, though very unwillingly. They are all kindness. 
 
 And now I am sorry I did not accompany them, for I 
 know not what to do with myself. I had resolved not to go 
 to the play to-night ; but I believe I shall. In short, I hardly 
 care whether I do or not. 
 
 I thought I had done wrong ! Mrs. Mirvan and Maria 
 have been half the town over, and so entertained ! — while I, 
 like a fool, stayed at home to do nothing. And, at an auction 
 in Pall Mall, who should they meet but Lord Orville ! he sat 
 next to Mrs. Mirvan, and they talked a great deal together : 
 but she gave me no account of the conversation. 
 
 I may never have such another opportunity of seeing 
 London ; I am quite sorry that I was not of the party ; but 
 I deserve this mortification, for having .indulged my ill - 
 humour. 
 
 Thursday Night. 
 
 We are just returned from the play, which was King Lcii>\ 
 and has made me very sad. We did not see anybody we 
 knew. 
 
 Well, adieu ; it is too late to write more. 
 
 Friday. 
 
 Captain Mirvan is arrived. I have not spirits to give an 
 account of his introduction, for he has really shocked me. I 
 do not like him. He seems to be surly, vulgar, and dis- 
 agreeable. 
 
 Almost the same moment that Maria was presented to 
 him, he began some rude jests upon the bad shape of her 
 nose, and called her a tall, ill-formed thing. She bore it 
 with the utmost good-humour; but that kind and sweet- 
 tempered woman, Mrs. Mirvan, deserved a better lot. I am 
 amazed she would marry him. 
 
 For my own part, I have been so shy, that I have hardly 
 spoken to him, or he to me. I cannot imagine why the family 
 was so rejoiced at his return. If he had spent his whole life 
 abroad, I should have supposed they might rather have been 
 thankful than sorrowful. However, I hope they do not think 
 
 35
 
 EVELINA 
 
 so ill of him as I do. At least, I am sure they have too 
 much prudence to make it known. 
 
 Saturday Night. 
 
 We have been to the opera, and I am still more pleased 
 than I was on Tuesday. I could have thought myself in 
 paradise, but for the continual talking of the company around 
 me. We sat in the pit, where everybody was dressed in so 
 high a style, that, if I had been less delighted with the 
 performance, my eyes would have found me sufficient enter- 
 tainment from looking at the ladies. 
 
 I was very glad I did not sit next the Captain, for he 
 could not bear the music or singers, and was extremely gross 
 in his observations on both. When the opera was over, we 
 went into a place called the coffee-room, where ladies as well 
 as gentlemen assemble. There are all sorts of refreshments, 
 and the company walk about, and chat with the same ease 
 and freedom as in a private room. 
 
 On Monday we go to a ridotto, and on Wednesday we 
 return to Howard Grove. The Captain says he won't stay 
 here to be smoked with filth any longer : but, having been 
 seven years smoked with a burning sun, he will retire to the 
 country, and sink into a fair-weather chap. — Adieu, my 
 dear Sir. 
 
 LETTER XIII 
 EVELINA IN CONTINUATION 
 
 Tuesday, April 12. 
 
 My dear Sir — We came home from the ridotto so late, or 
 rather so early, that it was not possible for me to write. 
 Indeed we did not go, you will be frightened to hear it, — till 
 past eleven o'clock : but nobody does. A terrible reverse of 
 the order of nature ! We sleep with the sun, and wake with 
 the moon. 
 
 The room was very magnificent, the lights and decorations 
 were brilliant, and the company gay and splendid. Hut 1 
 should have told you, that I made many objections to being of 
 the party, according to the resolution I had formed. How- 
 
 36
 
 EVELINA 
 
 ever, Maria laughed me out of my scruples, and so once again 
 — I went to an assembly. 
 
 Miss Mirvan danced a minuet, but I had not the courage 
 to follow her example. In our walks I saw Lord Orville. 
 He was quite alone, but did not observe us. Yet. as he 
 seemed of no party, I thought it was not impossible that he 
 might join us : and tho ! I did not wish much to dance at all 
 — yet, as I was more acquainted with him than with any other 
 person in the room, I must own I could not help thinking it 
 would be infinitely more desirable to dance again with him, 
 than with an entire stranger. To be sure, after all that had 
 passed, it was very ridiculous to suppose it even probable, that 
 Lord Orville would again honour me with his choice ; yet I 
 am compelled to confess my absurdity, by way of explaining 
 what follows. 
 
 Miss Mirvan was soon engaged ; and presently after, a 
 very fashionable, gay-looking man, who seemed about thirty 
 years of age, addressed himself to me, and begged to have the 
 honour of dancing with me. Now Maria's partner was a 
 gentleman of Mrs. Mirvan's acquaintance ; for she had told 
 us it was highly improper for young women to dance with 
 strangers, at any public assembly. Indeed it was by no 
 means my wish so to do ; yet I did not like to confine myself 
 from dancing at all ; neither did I dare refuse this gentleman, 
 as I had done Mr. Lovel, and then, if any acquaintance should 
 offer, accept him : and so, all these reasons combining, induced 
 me to tell him — yet I blush to write it to you ! — that I was 
 already engaged ; by which I meant to keep myself at liberty 
 to dance or not, as matters should fall out. 
 
 I suppose my consciousness betrayed my artifice, for he 
 looked at me as if incredulous ; and, instead of being satisfied 
 with my answer, and leaving me, according to my expectation, 
 he walked at my side, and, with the greatest ease imaginable, 
 began a conversation, in the free style which only belongs to 
 old and intimate acquaintance. But, what was most provoking, 
 he asked me a thousand questions concerning the paj-fner to 
 whom I was engaged. And, at last, he said, ' Is it really 
 possible that a man whom you have honoured with your ac- 
 ceptance, can fail to be at hand to profit from your goodness ? ' 
 
 I felt extremely foolish, and begged Mrs. Mirvan to lead to 
 a seat, which she very obligingly did. The Captain sat next 
 
 37
 
 EVELINA 
 
 her, and, to my great surprise, this gentleman thought proper 
 to follow, and seat himself next to me. 
 
 'What an insensible !' continued he. 'Why, Madam, you 
 are missing the most delightful dance in the world ! The 
 man must be either mad, or a fool. Which do you incline to 
 think him yourself?' 
 
 ' Neither, Sir,' answered I in some confusion. 
 He begged my pardon for the freedom of his supposition, 
 saying, ' I really was off my guard, from astonishment that 
 any man can be so much and so unaccountably his own enemy. 
 But where, Madam, can he possibly be? — has he left the 
 room ? — or has not he been in it ? ' 
 
 ' Indeed, Sir,' said I peevishly, ' I know nothing of him.' 
 ' I don't wonder that you are disconcerted, Madam ; it is 
 really very provoking. The best part of the evening will be 
 absolutely lost. He deserves not that you should wait for him.' 
 
 ' I do not, Sir,' said I, 'and I beg you not to- ' 
 
 'Mortifying, indeed, Madam,' interrupted he, 'a lady to 
 wait for a gentleman : — O fie ! — careless fellow ! — what can 
 detain him ? — Will you give me leave to seek him ? ' 
 
 ' If you please, Sir,' answered I, quite terrified lest Mrs. 
 Mir van should attend to him, for she looked very much sur- 
 prised at seeing me enter into conversation with a stranger. 
 ' With all my heart," cried he ; ' pray what coat has he on ? ' 
 ' Indeed I never looked at it.' 
 
 ' Out upon him ! ' cried he. ' What ! did he address you in 
 a coat not worth looking at ? — What a shabby wretch ! ' 
 
 How ridiculous '. I really could not help laughing, which, 
 I fear, encouraged him, for he went on. 
 
 'Charming creature! — and can you really bear ill-usage 
 with so much sweetness ? — Can you, like patience on a monu- 
 ment, smile in the midst of disappointment ? — For my part, 
 though I am not the offended person, my indignation is so 
 great, that I long to kick the fellow round the room ! — unless, 
 indeed (hesitating and looking earnestly at me), — unless, in- 
 deed — it is a partner of your own creating?* 
 
 I was dreadfully abashed, and could not make any answer. 
 
 ' But no ! ' cried he (again, and with warmth), it cannot be 
 
 that you are so cruel ! Softness itself is painted in your eyes : 
 
 — You could not, surely, have the barbarity so wantonly to 
 
 trifle with my misery.' 
 
 33
 
 EVELINA 
 
 I turned away from this nonsense, with real disgust. Mrs. 
 Mirvan saw my confusion, but was perplexed what to think of 
 it, and I could not explain to her the cause, lest the Captain 
 should hear me. I therefore proposed to walk, she consented, 
 and we all rose ; but, would you believe it ? this man had the as- 
 surance to rise too, and walk close by my side, as if of my party ! 
 
 ' Now,' cried he, ' I hope we shall see this ingrate. Is that 
 he?' — pointing to an old man, who was lame, 'or that?' 
 And in this manner he asked me of whoever was old or ugly 
 in the room. I made no sort of answer ; and when he found 
 that I was resolutely silent, and walked on, as much as I 
 could, without observing him, he suddenly stamped his foot, 
 and cried out, in a passion, ' Fool ! idiot ! booby ! ' 
 
 I turned hastily toward him : ' O Madam,' continued he, 
 'forgive my vehemence, but I am distracted to think there 
 should exist a wretch who can slight a blessing for which I 
 would forfeit my life! — O! that I could but meet him! I 
 
 would soon But I grow angry : pardon me, Madam, my 
 
 passions are violent, and your injuries affect me ! ' 
 
 I began to apprehend he was a madman, and stared at him 
 with the utmost astonishment. ' I see you are moved, Madam,' 
 said he, 'generous creature! — but don't be alarmed, I am 
 cool again, I am indeed, — upon my soul I am, — I entreat you, 
 most lovely of mortals ! I entreat you to be easy.' 
 
 ' Indeed, Sir,' said I very seriously, ' I must insist upon 
 your leaving me ; you are quite a stranger to me, and I am 
 both unused, and averse to your language and your manners.' 
 
 This seemed to have some effect on him. He made me a 
 low bow, begged my pardon, and vowed he would not for the 
 world offend me. 
 
 'Then, Sir, you must leave me,' cried I. 
 
 ' I am gone, Madam, I am gone ! ' with a most tragical air ; 
 and he marched away, a quick pace, out of sight in a moment ; 
 but before I had time to congratulate myself, he was again at 
 my elbow. 
 
 'And could you really let me go, and not be sorry ? — Can 
 you see me suffer torments inexpressible, and yet retain all 
 your favour for that miscreant who flies you ? — Ungrateful 
 puppy ! — I could bastinado him !' 
 
 'For Heaven's sake, my deaV,' cried Mrs. Mirvan, 'who is 
 he talking of?' 
 
 39
 
 Is thai he ?
 
 EVELINA 
 
 'Indeed — I do not know, Madam, 5 said I, 'but I wish he- 
 would leave me.' 
 
 'What's all that there?' cried the Captain. 
 
 The man made a low bow, and said, ' Only, Sir, a slight 
 objection which this young lady makes to dancing with me, 
 and which I am endeavouring to obviate. I shall think myself 
 greatly honoured, if you will intercede for me.' 
 
 'That lady, Sir,' said the Captain coldly, 'is her own 
 mistress.' And he walked sullenly on. 
 
 ' You, Madam,' said the man (who looked delighted, to 
 Mrs. Mirvan), 'you, I hope, will have the goodness to speak 
 for me.'. 
 
 ' Sir,' answered she gravely, ' I have not the pleasure of 
 being acquainted with you.' 
 
 ' I hope, when you have, Ma'am,' cried he (undaunted), ' you 
 will honour me with your approbation ; but, while I am yet 
 unknown to you, it would be truly generous in you to 
 countenance me ; and, I flatter myself, Madam, that you will 
 not have cause to repent it.' 
 
 Mrs. Mirvan, with an embarrassed air, replied, ' I do not at 
 all mean, Sir, to doubt your being a gentlemen, — but ' 
 
 ' But what, Madam ? — that doubt removed, why a cut?' 
 
 ' Well, Sir,' said Mrs. Mirvan (with a good-humoured smile), 
 ' I will even treat you with your own plainness, and try what 
 effect that will have on you : I must therefore tell you, once 
 for all ' 
 
 ' O pardon me, Madam ! ' interrupted he eagerly, ' you must 
 not proceed with those words, once for all; no, if / have been 
 too plain, and though a man, deserve a rebuke, remember, dear 
 ladies, that if you copy, you ought, injustice, to excuse me.' 
 
 We both stared at the man's strange behaviour. 
 
 ' Be nobler than your sex,' continued he, turning to me, 
 'honour me with one dance, and give up the ingrate who has 
 merited so ill your patience.' 
 
 Mrs. Mirvan looked with astonishment at us both. ' Who 
 does he speak of, my dear ? — you never mentioned ' 
 
 ' O Madam ! ' exclaimed he, ' he was not worth mentioning — 
 it is pity he was ever thought of: but let us forget his existence. 
 One dance is all I solicit ; permit me, Madam, the honour of 
 this young lady's hand ; it will be a favour I shall ever most 
 gratefully acknowledge.' 
 
 41
 
 EVELINA 
 
 ' Sir,' answered she, ' favours and strangers have with me 
 no connection.' 
 
 ' If you have hitherto/ said he, 'confined your benevolence 
 to your intimate friends, suffer me to be the first for whom your 
 charity is enlarged.' 
 
 ' Well, Sir, I know not what to say to you, — but ' 
 
 He stopped her but with so many urgent entreaties, that she at 
 last told me, I must either go down one dance, or avoid his 
 importunities by returning home. I hesitated which alternative 
 to choose ; but this impetuous man at length prevailed, and I 
 was obliged to consent to dance with him. 
 
 And thus was my deviation from truth punished ; and thus 
 did this man's determined boldness conquer. 
 
 During the dance, before we were too much engaged in it 
 for conversation, he was extremely provoking about my partner, 
 and tried every means in his power to make me own that I had 
 deceived him ; which, though I would not so far humble myself 
 as to acknowledge, was, indeed, but too obvious. 
 
 Lord Orville, I fancy, did not dance at all ; he seemed to 
 have a large acquaintance, and joined several different parties : 
 but you will easily suppose I was not much pleased to see him, 
 in a few minutes after I was gone, walk towards the place I had 
 just left, and bow to, and join Mrs. Mirvan '. 
 
 How unlucky I thought myself, that I had not longer with- 
 stood this stranger's importunities ! The moment we had gone 
 down the dance, I was hastening away from him, but he stopped 
 me, and said that I could by no means return to my party, 
 without giving offence, before we had done our duty of walking 
 up the dance. As I know nothing at all of these rules and 
 customs, I was obliged to submit to his directions ; but I fancy 
 I looked rather uneasy, for he took notice of my inattention, 
 saying, in his free way, ' Whence that anxiety ? — Why are 
 those lovely eyes perpetually averted ? ' 
 
 ' I wish you would say no more to me, Sir ' (cried I peevishly) ; 
 ' you have already destroyed all my happiness for this evening.' 
 
 ' Good Heaven ! what is it I have done ? — How have I 
 merited this scorn ? ' 
 
 ' You have tormented me to death ; you have forced me 
 from my friends, and intruded yourself upon me, against my 
 will, for a partner.' 
 
 ' Surely, my dear Madam, we ought to be better friends 
 
 42
 
 EVELINA 
 
 since there seems to be something of sympathy in the frankness 
 of our dispositions. — And yet, were you not an angel — how do 
 you think I could brook such contempt?' 
 
 ' If I have offended you,' cried I, ' you have but to leave me 
 ^and O how I wish you would ! ' 
 
 'My dear creature' (said he, half laughing), 'why, where 
 could you be educated ? ' 
 
 ' Where I most sincerely wish I now was ! ' 
 
 ' How conscious you must be, all beautiful that you are, that 
 those charming airs serve only to heighten the bloom of your 
 complexion ! ' 
 
 'Your freedom, Sir, where you are more acquainted, may 
 perhaps be less disagreeable ; but to me ' 
 
 'You do me justice' (cried he, interrupting me), 'yes, I do 
 indeed improve upon acquaintance ; you will hereafter be quite 
 charmed with me.' 
 
 ' Hereafter, Sir, I hope I shall never ' 
 
 ' O hush ! — hush ! — have you forgot the situation in which I 
 found you ? — Have you forgot, that when deserted, I pursued 
 you, — when betrayed, I adored you ? — but for me ' 
 
 ' But for you, Sir, I might, perhaps, have been happy.' 
 
 'What then, am I to conclude that, but for me, yom f>ar//nr 
 would have appeared ? — poor fellow ! — and did my presence 
 awe him ? ' 
 
 ' I wish his presence, Sir, could awe jv« / ' 
 
 ' His presence ! — perhaps then you see him ? ' 
 
 'Perhaps, Sir, I do : ' cried I, quite wearied of his raillery. 
 
 'Where? — where? — for Heaven's sake show me the 
 wretch ! ' 
 
 'Wretch, Sir?' 
 
 ' O, a very savage ! — a sneaking, shamefaced, despicable 
 puppy ! ' 
 
 I know not what bewitched me— but my pride was hurt, and 
 my spirits were tired, and — in short — I had the folly, looking 
 at Lord Orville, to repeat, ' Despicable, you think ? ' 
 
 His eyes instantly followed mine ; ' Why, is that the 
 gentleman ? ' 
 
 I made no answer ; I could not affirm, and I would not deny ; 
 — for I hoped to be relieved from his teasing, by his mistake. 
 
 The very moment wc had done what he called our duty, I 
 eagerly desired to return to Mrs. Mirvan. 
 
 43
 
 EVELINA 
 
 ' To your partner, I presume, Madam ? ' said he, very 
 gravely. 
 
 This quite confounded me ; I dreaded lest this mischievous 
 man, ignorant of his rank, should address himself to Lord 
 Orville, and say something which might expose my artifice. 
 Fool 1 to involve myself in such difficulties ! I now feared 
 what I had before wished, and, therefore, to avoid Lord 
 Orville, I was obliged myself to propose going down another 
 dance, though I was ready to sink with shame while I spoke. 
 
 'But your partner, Ma'am?' 'said he, affecting a very 
 solemn air), ' perhaps he may resent my detaining you : if you 
 will give me leave to ask his consent ' 
 
 ' Not for the universe.' 
 
 'Who is he, Madam?' 
 
 I wished myself a hundred miles off. He repeated his 
 question, ' What is his name ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing — nobody — I don't know.' 
 
 He assumed a most important solemnity ; ' How ! — not 
 know ? — Give me leave, my dear Madam, to recommend this 
 caution to you : Never dance in public with a stranger, — with 
 one whose name you are unacquainted with, — who may be a 
 mere adventurer, — a man of no character, — consider to what 
 impertinence you may expose yourself 
 
 Was ever anything so ridiculous ? I could not help laughing, 
 in spite of my vexation. 
 
 At this instant, Mrs. Mirvan. followed by Lord Orville, 
 walked up to us. You will easily believe it was not difficult 
 for me to recover my gravity ; but what was my consternation, 
 when this strange man, destined to be the scourge of my 
 artifice, exclaimed, ' Ha ! my Lord Orville ! — I protest I did 
 not know your Lordship. What can I say for my usurpation ? 
 — Yet, faith, my Lord, such a prize was not to be neglected.' 
 
 My shame and confusion were unspeakable. Who could 
 have supposed or foreseen that this man knew Lord Orville ! 
 But falsehood is not more unjustifiable than unsafe. 
 
 Lord Orville — well he might, — looked all amazement. 
 
 'The philosophic coldness of your Lordship,' continued this 
 odious creature, ' every man is not endowed with. I have 
 used my utmost endeavours to entertain this lady, though I 
 fear without success ; and your Lordship will not be a little 
 flattered, if acquainted with the difficulty which attended my 
 
 44
 
 //'/'/// an air of gallantry.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 procuring the honour of only one dance.' Then, turning to 
 me, who was sinking with shame, while Lord Orville stood 
 motionless, and Mrs. Mirvan astonished, he suddenly seized my 
 hand, saying, ' Think, my Lord, what must be my reluctance 
 to resign this fair hand to your Lordship ! ' 
 
 In the same instant, Lord Orville took it of him ; I coloured 
 violently, and made an effort to recover it. ' You do me too 
 much honour, Sir,' cried he (with an air of gallantry, pressing 
 it to his lips before he let it go) ; ' however, I shall be happy to 
 profit by it, if this lady ' (turning to Mrs. Mirvan) ' will permit 
 me to seek for her party.' 
 
 To compel him thus to dance, I could not endure, and 
 eagerly called out, ' By no means — not for the world ! — I must 
 beg ' 
 
 'Will you honour me. Madam, with your commands," cried 
 my tormentor ; ' may / seek the lady's party ? ' 
 
 ' No, Sir,' answered I, turning from him. 
 
 ' What shall be done, my dear?' said Mrs. Mirvan. 
 
 'Nothing, Ma'am; — anything, I mean ' 
 
 ' But do you dance, or not ? you see his Lordship waits. 5 
 
 ' I hope not, — I beg that — I would not for the world — I 
 am sure I ought to — to ' 
 
 I could not speak ; but that confident man, determined to 
 discover whether or not I had deceived him, said to Lord 
 Orville, who stood suspended, ' My Lord, this affair, which, at 
 present, seems perplexed, I will briefly explain ; — this lady 
 proposed to me another dance, — nothing could have made me 
 more happy — I only wished for your Lordship's permission, 
 which, if now granted, will, I am persuaded, set everything 
 right.' 
 
 I glowed with indignation. ' No, Sir. It is your absence, 
 and that alone, can set everything right.' 
 
 'For Heaven's sake, my dear' (cried Mrs. Mirvan, who 
 could no longer contain her surprise, 'what does all this 
 mean? — were you pre-engaged ? —had Lord Orville ' 
 
 'No, Madam,' cried I, — 'only — only I did not know that 
 gentleman, — and so, — and so I thought — I intended — I ' 
 
 Overpowered by all that had passed, I had not strength to 
 make my mortifying explanation ; my spirits quite failed me, 
 and I burst into tears. 
 
 They all seemed shocked and amazed. 
 46
 
 EVELINA 
 
 'What is the matter, my dearest love?' cried Mrs. Mirvan, 
 with the kindest concern. 
 
 'What have I done!' exclaimed my evil genius, and ran 
 officiously for a glass of water. 
 
 However, a hint was sufficient for Lord Orville, who com- 
 prehended all I would have explained. He immediately led 
 me to a seat, and said in a low voice, ' Be not distressed, I 
 beseech you ; I shall ever think my name honoured by your 
 making use of it.' 
 
 This politeness relieved me. A general murmur had 
 alarmed Miss Mirvan, who flew instantly to me ; while Lord 
 Orville, the moment Mrs. Mirvan had taken the water, led my 
 tormentor away. 
 
 ' For Heaven's sake, dear Madam,' cried I, ' let me go 
 home, — indeed, I cannot stay here any longer.' 
 
 ' Let us all go,' cried my kind Maria. 
 
 'But the Captain — what will he say? — I had better go 
 home in a chair.' 
 
 Mrs. Mirvan consented, and I rose to depart. Lord Orville 
 and that man both came to me. The first, with an attention 
 I had but ill merited from him, led me to a chair, while the 
 other followed, pestering me with apologies. I wished to 
 have made mine to Lord Orville, but was too much ashamed. 
 
 It was about one o'clock. Mrs. Mirvan's servants saw me 
 home. 
 
 And now, — what again shall ever tempt me to an assembly ? 
 I dread to hear what you will think of me, my most dear and 
 honoured Sir : you will need your utmost partiality, to receive 
 me without displeasure. 
 
 This morning Lord Orville has sent to inquire after our 
 healths : and Sir Clement Willoughby, for that, I find, is the 
 name of my persecutor, has called : but I would not go down- 
 stairs till he was gone. 
 
 And now, my dear Sir, I can somewhat account for the 
 strange, provoking, and ridiculous conduct of this Sir Clement 
 last night ; for Miss Mirvan says, he is the very man with 
 whom she heard Lord Orville conversing at Mrs. Stanley's, 
 when I was spoken of in so mortifying a manner. He was 
 pleased to say he was glad to hear I was a fool, and therefore, 
 I suppose, he concluded he might talk as much nonsense as 
 he pleased to me : however, I am very indifferent as to his 
 
 47
 
 EVELINA 
 
 opinion ; but for Lord Orville, — if then he thought me an 
 idiot, now, I am sure, he must suppose me both bold and 
 presuming. .Make use of his name ! — what impertinence ! — 
 he can never know how it happened, — he can only imagine it 
 was from an excess of vanity : — well, however, I shall leave 
 this bad city to-morrow, and never again will I enter it ! 
 
 The Captain intends to take us to-night to the Fantocini. 
 I cannot bear that Captain ; I can give you no idea how gross 
 he is. I heartily rejoice that he was not present at the dis- 
 agreeable conclusion of yesterday's adventure, for I am sure 
 he would have contributed to my confusion ; which might 
 perhaps have diverted him, as he seldom or never smiles but 
 at some other person's expense. 
 
 And here I conclude my London letters, — and without any 
 regret, for I am too inexperienced and ignorant to conduct 
 myself with propriety in this town, where everything is new to 
 me, and many things are unaccountable and perplexing. 
 
 Adieu, my dear Sir ; Heaven restore me safely to you ! I 
 wish I was to go immediately to Berry Hill ; yet the wish is 
 ungrateful to Mrs. Mirvan, and therefore I will repress it. 
 I shall write an account of the Fantocini from Howard Grove. 
 We have not been to half the public places that are now open, 
 though I dare say you will think we have been to all. But 
 they are almost as innumerable as the persons who fill them. 
 
 LETTER XIV 
 
 EVELINA IN CONTINUATION 
 
 Queen Ann Street, April 13. 
 
 How much will you be surprised, my dearest Sir, at receiving 
 another letter from London of your Evelina's writing ! But. 
 believe me, it was not my fault, neither is it my happiness, 
 that I am still here : our journey has been postponed by an 
 accident equally unexpected and disagreeable. 
 
 We went last night to see the Fantocini, where we had 
 infinite entertainment from the performance of a little comedy, 
 in French and Italian, by puppets, so admirably managed, 
 that they both astonished and diverted us all, except the 
 
 4 S
 
 EVELINA 
 
 Captain, who has a fixed and most prejudiced hatred of what- 
 ever is not English. 
 
 When it was over, while we waited for the coach, a tall 
 elderly woman brushed quickly past us, calling out, ' My Cod ! 
 what shall I do ? ' 
 
 'Why, what would you do?' cried the Captain. 
 
 ' Ma foi, Monsieur,' answered she, 'I have lost my company, 
 and in this place I don't know nobody.' 
 
 There was something foreign in her accent, though it was 
 difficult to discover whether she was an English or a French 
 woman. She was very well dressed, and seemed so entirely 
 at a loss what to do, that Mrs. Mirvan proposed to the Captain 
 to assist her. 
 
 'Assist her ! ' cried he, 'ay, with all my heart ; — let a link- 
 boy call her a coach.' 
 
 There was not one to be had, and it rained very fast. 
 
 ' Mon Dieu,' exclaimed the stranger, ' what shall become of 
 me ? Je sin's au de'sespoir ! ' 
 
 'Dear Sir,' cried Miss Mirvan, 'pray let us take the poor 
 lady into our coach. She is quite alone, and a foreigner- — .' 
 
 ' She's never the better for that,' answered he : ' she may 
 be a woman of the town, for anything you know.' 
 
 'She does not appear such,' said Mrs. Mirvan, 'and indeed 
 she seems so much distressed, that we shall but follow the 
 golden rule, if we carry her to her lodgings.' 
 
 ' You are mighty fond of new acquaintance,' returned he, 
 'but first let us know if she be going our way. 5 
 
 Upon inquiry, we found that she lived in Oxford Road, 
 and, after some disputing, the Captain, surlily, and with a very 
 bad grace, consented to admit her into his coach ; though he 
 soon convinced us that he was determined she should not be 
 too much obliged to him, for he seemed absolutely bent upon 
 quarrelling with her : for which strange inhospitality, I can 
 assign no other reason, than that she appeared to be a 
 foreigner. 
 
 The conversation began, by her telling us, that she had 
 been in England only two days : that the gentlemen belonging 
 to her were Parisians, and had left her, to see for a hackney- 
 coach, as her own carriage was abn ad ; and that she had 
 waited for them till she was quite frightened, and concluded 
 that they had lost themselves. 
 
 49 E
 
 
 -'/>' GW/ Tc/W jvW/ / do ? •
 
 EVELINA 
 
 'And pray,' said the Captain, 'why did you go to a public 
 place without an Englishman ? ' 
 
 l Mafot, Sir,' answered she, 'because none of my acquaint- 
 ance is in town.' 
 
 'Why then,' said he, ' I'll tell you what ; your best way is 
 to go out of it yourself.' 
 
 ' Pardi, Monsieur,'' returned she, 'and so I shall; for, I 
 promise you, I think the English a parcel of brutes ; and I'll 
 go back to France as fast as I can, for I would not live among 
 none of you.' 
 
 ' Who wants you ? ' cried the Captain ; ' do you suppose, 
 Madam French, we have not enough of other nations to pick 
 our pockets already ! I'll warrant you, there's no need for 
 you for to put in your oar.' 
 
 ' Pick your pockets, Sir ! I wish nobody wanted to pick 
 your pockets no more than I do ; and I'll promise you, you'd 
 be safe enough. But there's no nation under the sun can 
 beat the English for ill-politeness ; for my part, I hate the 
 very sight of them, and so I shall only just visit a person of 
 quality or two, of my particular acquaintance, and then I shall 
 go back again to France.' 
 
 ' Ay, do,' cried he, ' and then go to the devil together, for 
 that's the fittest voyage for the French and the quality.' 
 
 'We'll take care, however,' cried the stranger, with great 
 vehemence, ' not to admit none of your vulgar, unmannered 
 English among us.' 
 
 ' O never fear ' (returned he coolly), ' we shan't dispute the 
 point with you ; and you and the quality may have the devil 
 all to yourselves.' 
 
 Desirous of changing the subject of a conversation which 
 now became very alarming, Miss Mirvan called out, ' Lord, 
 how slow the man drives ! ' 
 
 L Never mind, Moll,' said her father, ' I'll warrant you he'll 
 drive fast enough to-morrow, when you are going to Howard 
 Grove.' 
 
 ' To Howard Grove ! ' exclaimed the stranger ; ' why, mon 
 Dieu, do you know Lady Howard ? ' 
 
 ' Why, what if we do ? ' answered he, ' that's nothing to 
 you ; she's none of your quality, I'll promise you.' 
 
 'Who told you that,' cried she; 'you don't know nothing 
 about the matter ; besides, you're the ill-bredest person ever 
 
 51
 
 EVELINA 
 
 I see ; and as to your knowing Lady Howard, I don't believe 
 no such thing ; unless, indeed, you are her steward.' 
 
 The Captain, swearing terribly, said, with great fury, ' l'oit 
 would much sooner be taken for her wash-woman.' 
 
 ' Her wash-woman, indeed ! — Ha, ha, ha ! — why, you han't 
 no eyes ; did you ever see a wash-woman in such a gown as 
 this ? — besides, I'm no such mean person, for I'm as good as 
 Lady Howard, and as rich too ; and besides, I'm now come 
 to England to visit her.' 
 
 ' You may spare yourself that there trouble,' said the 
 Captain ; 'she has paupers enough about her already.' 
 
 ' Paupers, Mr. ! — no more a pauper than yourself, nor so 
 much neither ; — but you are a low, dirty fellow, and I shan't 
 stoop to take no more notice of you.' 
 
 ' Dirty fellow ! ' (exclaimed the Captain, seizing both her 
 wrists) ; 'hark you, Mrs. Frog, you'd best hold your tongue, for 
 I must make bold to tell you, if you don't, that I shall make 
 no ceremony of tripping you out of the window ; and there you 
 may lie in the mud till some of your Monseers come to help 
 you out of it.' 
 
 Their increasing passion quite terrified us ; and Mrs. 
 Mirvan was beginning to remonstrate with the Captain, when 
 we were all silenced by what follows. 
 
 ' Let me go, villain that you are, let me go, or I'll promise 
 you I'll get you put to prison for this usage ; I'm no common 
 person, I assure you, and, mafoi, I'll go to Justice Fielding 
 about you ; for I'm a person of fashion, and I'll make you 
 know it, or my name i'n't Duval.' 
 
 I heard no more : amazed, frightened, and unspeakably 
 shocked, an involuntary exclamation of Gracious Heaven .' 
 escaped me, and, more dead than alive, I sank into Mrs. 
 Mirvan's arms. But let me draw a veil over a scene too cruel 
 for a heart so compassionately tender as yours ; it is sufficient 
 that you know this supposed foreigner proved to be Madame 
 Duval, — .the grandmother of your Evelina ! 
 
 O, Sir, to discover so near a relation in a woman who had 
 thus introduced herself! — what would become of me, were it 
 not for you, my protector, my friend, and my refuge ? 
 
 My extreme concern, and Mrs. Mirvan's surprise, im- 
 mediately betrayed me. But I will not shock you with the 
 manner of her acknowledging me, or the bitterness, the 
 
 52
 
 
 ■a I. ';{, : «:lisV ••'>,>" -\ 
 
 
 oOTJl 
 
 
 Hark you, Mrs. Frog, you'd test hold your tongue.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 grossness — I cannot otherwise express myself, — with which 
 she spoke of those unhappy past transactions you have so 
 pathetically related to me. All the misery of a much-injured 
 parent, dear, though never seen, regretted, though never 
 known, crowded so forcibly upon my memory, that they 
 rendered this interview — one only excepted — the most afflicting 
 I can ever know. 
 
 When we stopped at her lodgings, she desired me to accom- 
 pany her into the house, and said she could easily procure a 
 room for me to sleep in. Alarmed and trembling, I turned 
 to Mrs. Mirvan. 'My daughter, Madam,' said that sweet 
 woman, ' cannot so abruptly part with her young friend ; you 
 must allow a little time to wean them from each other.' 
 
 ' Pardon, me, Ma'am,' answered Madame Duval (who, 
 from the time of her being known, somewhat softened her 
 manners), ' Miss can't possibly be so nearly connected to this 
 child as I am.' 
 
 ' No matter for that,' cried the Captain (who espoused my 
 cause to satisfy his own pique, though an awkward apology 
 had passed between them) ; ' she was sent to us, and so, d'ye 
 see, we don't choose for to part with her.' 
 
 I promised to wait upon her at what time she pleased the 
 next day, and, after a short debate, she desired me to break- 
 fast with her, and we proceeded to Queen Ann Street. 
 
 What an unfortunate adventure ! I could not close my 
 eyes the whole night. A thousand times I wished I had 
 never left Berry Hill ; however, my return thither shall be 
 accelerated to the utmost of my power ; and, once more in 
 that abode of tranquil happiness, I will suffer no temptation 
 to allure me elsewhere. 
 
 Mrs. Mirvan was so kind as to accompany me to Madame 
 Duval's house this morning. The Captain too offered his 
 service, which I declined, from a fear she should suppose I 
 meant to insult her. 
 
 She frowned most terribly upon Mrs. Mirvan, but she 
 received me with as much tenderness as I believe she is 
 capable of feeling. Indeed, our meeting seems really to have 
 affected her ; for when, overcome by the variety of emotions 
 which the sight of her occasioned, I almost fainted in her 
 arms, she burst into tears, and said, ' Let me not lose my 
 poor daughter a second time ! ' This unexpected humanity 
 
 54
 
 EVELINA 
 
 softened me extremely ; but she very soon excited my warmest 
 indignation, by the ungrateful mention she made of the best 
 of men, my dear and most generous benefactor. However, 
 grief and anger mutually gave way to terror, upon her avowing 
 the intention of her visiting England was to make me return 
 with her to France. This, she said, was a plan she had 
 formed from the instant she had heard of my birth, which, 
 she protested, did not reach her ears till I must have been 
 twelve years of age ; but Monsieur Duval, who, she declared, 
 was the worst husband in the world, would not permit her 
 to do anything she wished : he had been dead but three 
 months, which had been employed in arranging certain affairs, 
 that were no sooner settled, than she set off for England. 
 She was already out of mourning, for she said nobody here 
 could tell how long she had been a widow. 
 
 She must have been married very early in life ; what her 
 age is I do not know, but she really looks to be less than 
 fifty. She dresses very gaily, paints very high, and the traces 
 of former beauty are still very visible in her face. 
 
 I know not when, or how, this visit would have ended, 
 had not the Captain called for Mrs. Mirvan, and absolutely 
 insisted upon my attending her. He is become, very suddenly, 
 so warmly my friend, that I quite dread his officiousness. 
 Mrs. Mirvan, however, whose principal study seems to be 
 healing those wounds which her husband inflicts, appeased 
 Madame Duval's wrath, by a very polite invitation to drink 
 tea and spend the evening here. Not without great difficulty 
 was the Captain prevailed upon to defer his journey some 
 time longer ; but what could be done ? it would have been 
 indecent for me to have quitted town the very instant I dis- 
 covered that Madame Duval was in it ; and to have stayed 
 here solely under her protection — Mrs. Mirvan, thank Heaven, 
 was too kind for such a thought. That she would follow us 
 to Howard Grove, I almost equally dreaded ; it is, therefore, 
 determined that we remain in London for some days, or a 
 week : though the Captain has declared that the old French kag, 
 as he is pleased to call her, shall fare never the better for it. 
 
 My only hope, is to get safe to Berry Hill ; where, 
 counselled and sheltered by you, I shall have nothing more 
 to fear. Adieu, my ever dear and most honoured Sir ! I 
 shall have no happiness till I am again with you ! 
 
 55
 
 EVELINA 
 
 LETTER XV 
 MR. VILLARS TO EVELINA 
 
 Berry Hill, April 16. 
 
 In the belief and hope that my Evelina would ere now have 
 bid adieu to London, I had intended to have deferred writing 
 till I heard of her return to Howard Grove ; but the letter I 
 have this moment received, with intelligence of Madame 
 Duval's arrival in England, demands an immediate answer. 
 
 Her journey hither equally grieves and alarms me : how 
 much did I pity my child, when I read of a discovery at once 
 so unexpected and unwished ! I have long dreaded this meet- 
 ing and its consequence ; to claim you, seems naturally to 
 follow acknowledging you : I am well acquainted with her 
 disposition, and have for many years foreseen the contest which 
 now threatens us. 
 
 Cruel as are the circumstances of this affair, you must not, 
 my love, suffer it to depress your spirits ; remember, that 
 while life is lent me, I will devote it to your service ; and, for 
 future time, I will make such provision as shall seem to me 
 most conducive to your future happiness. Secure of my 
 protection, and relying on my tenderness, let no apprehensions 
 of Madame Duval disturb your peace; conduct yourself towards 
 her with all the respect and deference due to so near a 
 relation, remembering r always, that the failure of duty on her 
 part, can by no means justify any neglect on yours : indeed, 
 the more forcibly you are struck with improprieties and mis- 
 conduct in another, the greater should be your observance 
 and diligence to avoid even the shadow of similar errors. Be 
 careful, therefore, that no remissness of attention, no indifference 
 of obliging, make known to her the independence I assure 
 you of ; but when she fixes the time for her leaving England, 
 trust to me the task of refusing your attending her : disagree- 
 able to myself I own it will be, yet to you it would be improper, 
 if not impossible. 
 
 In regard to her opinion of me, I am more sorry than 
 surprised at her determined blindness ; the palliation which 
 she feels the want of, for her own conduct, leads her to seek 
 
 k6
 
 EVELINA 
 
 for failings in all who were concerned in those unhappy trans- 
 actions which she has so much reason to lament. And this, 
 as it is the cause, so we must, in some measure, consider it 
 as the excuse of her inveteracy. 
 
 How grateful to me are your wishes to return to Berry 
 Hill ! your lengthened stay in London, and the dissipation in 
 which I find you are involved, fill me with uneasiness : I 
 mean not, however, that I would have you sequester yourself 
 from the party to which you belong, since Mrs. Mirvan might 
 thence infer a reproof which your youth and her kindness 
 would render inexcusable. I will not, therefore, enlarge upon 
 this subject, but content myself with telling you, that I shall 
 heartily rejoice when I hear of your safe arrival at Howard 
 Grove, for which place I hope you will be preparing at the 
 time you receive this letter. 
 
 I cannot too much thank you, my best Evelina, for the 
 minuteness of your communications ; continue to me this 
 indulgence, for I should be miserable if in ignorance of your 
 proceedings. 
 
 How new to you is the scene of life in which you are now 
 engaged, — balls — plays — operas — ridottos. Ah, my child ! 
 at your return hither, how will you bear the change? My 
 heart trembles for your future tranquillity. — Yet I will hope 
 everything from the unsullied whiteness of your soul, and 
 the native liveliness of your disposition. 
 
 I am sure I need not say, how much more I was pleased 
 with the mistakes of your inexperience at the private ball, 
 than with the attempted adoption of more fashionable manners 
 at the ridotto. But your confusion and mortifications were 
 such as to entirely silence all reproofs on my part. 
 
 I hope you will see no more of Sir Clement Willoughby, 
 whose conversation and boldness are extremely disgustful to 
 me. I was gratified by the good-nature of Lord Orville, upon 
 your making use of his name, but I hope you will never again 
 put it to such a trial. 
 
 Heaven bless thee, my dear child, and grant that neither 
 misfortune nor vice may ever rob thee of that gaiety of heart 
 which, resulting from innocence, while it constitutes your own, 
 contributes also to the felicity of all who know you ! 
 
 Arthur Villa rs. 
 
 57
 
 vj-syKc^vivvi ,.„ > 
 
 Introduced by the name of Monsieur Du Bois*
 
 EVELINA 
 
 - 
 LETTER XVI 
 
 EVELINA TO THE REV. MR. VILLARS 
 
 Queen Ann Street, Thursday Morning, April 14. 
 
 Before our dinner was over yesterday, Madame Duval came 
 to tea : though it will lessen your surprise to hear that it was 
 near five o'clock, for we never dine till the day is almost over. 
 She was asked into another room, while the table was cleared, 
 and then was invited to partake of the dessert. 
 
 She was attended by a French gentleman, whom she 
 introduced by the name of Monsieur Du Bois : Mrs. Mirvan 
 received them both with her usual politeness ; but the Captain 
 looked very much displeased, and after a short silence, very 
 sternly said to Madame Duval, ' Pray who asked you to bring 
 that there spark with you ? ' 
 
 ' O,' cried she, ' I never go nowhere without him.' 
 
 Another short silence ensued, which was terminated by the 
 Captain's turning roughly to the foreigner, and saying, ' Do 
 you know, Monseer, that you're the first Frenchman I ever let 
 come into my house ? ' 
 
 Monsieur Du Bois made a profound bow. He speaks no 
 English, and understands it so imperfectly, that he might 
 possibly imagine he had received a compliment. 
 
 Mrs. Mirvan endeavoured to divert the Captain's ill-humour, 
 by starting new subjects ; but he left to her all the trouble of 
 supporting them, and leant back in his chair in gloomy silence, 
 except when any opportunity offered of uttering some sarcasm 
 upon the French. Finding her efforts to render the evening 
 agreeable were fruitless, Mrs. Mirvan proposed a party to 
 Ranelagh. Madame Duval joyfully consented to it, and the 
 Captain, though he railed against the dissipation of the women, 
 did not oppose it, and therefore Maria and I ran upstairs to 
 dress ourselves. 
 
 Before we were ready, word was brought us that Sir 
 Clement Willoughby was in the drawing-room. He introduced 
 himself under the pretence of inquiring after all our healths, 
 and entered the room with the easy air of an old acquaintance ; 
 though Mrs. Mirvan confesses that he seemed embarrassed, 
 
 59
 
 -- 
 Their conversation was supported with great vehemence-
 
 EVELINA 
 
 when he found how coldly he was received, not only by the 
 Captain, but by herself. 
 
 I was extremely disconcerted at the thoughts of seeing this 
 man again, and did not go downstairs till I was called to tea. 
 He was then deeply engaged in a discourse upon French 
 manners with Madame Duval and the Captain, and the 
 subject seemed so entirely to engross him, that he did not, at 
 first, observe my entrance into the room. Their conversation 
 was supported with great vehemence ; the Captain roughly 
 maintaining the superiority of the English in every particular, 
 and Madame Duval warmly refusing to allow of it in any : 
 while Sir Clement exerted all his powers of argument and of 
 ridicule to second and strengthen whatever was advanced by 
 the Captain : for he had the sagacity to discover, that he 
 could take no method so effectual for making the master of 
 the house his friend, as to make Madame Duval his enemy : 
 and indeed, in a very short time, he had reason to congratulate 
 himself upon his successful discernment. 
 
 As soon as he saw me he made a most respectful bow, and 
 hoped I had not suffered from the fatigue of the ridotto : I 
 made no other answer than a slight inclination of the head, for 
 I was very much ashamed of that whole affair. He then re- 
 turned to the disputants, where he managed the argument so 
 skilfully, at once provoking Madame Duval, and delighting the 
 Captain, that I could not forbear admiring his address, though 
 I condemned his subtlety. Mrs. Mirvan, dreading such 
 violent antagonists, attempted frequently to change the 
 subject ; and she might have succeeded, but for the inter- 
 position of Sir Clement, who would not suffer it to be given 
 up, and supported it with such humour and satire, that he 
 seems to have won the Captain's heart ; though their united 
 forces so enraged and overpowered Madame Duval, that she 
 really trembled with passion. 
 
 I was very glad when Mrs. Mirvan said it was time to be 
 gone. Sir Clement arose to take leave ; but the Captain very 
 cordially invited him to join our party : he Juui an engagement, 
 he said, but would give it up to have that pleasure. 
 
 Some little confusion ensued in regard to our manner of 
 setting' off: Mrs. Mirvan offered Madame Duval a place in 
 her coach, and proposed that we four females should go all 
 together: however, this she rejected, declaring she would by 
 
 61
 
 EVELINA 
 
 no means go so far without a gentleman, and wondering so 
 polite a lady could make so English a proposal. Sir Clement 
 Willoughby said his chariot was waiting at the door, and 
 begged to know if it could be of any use. It was, at last, 
 decided that a hackney-coach should be called for Monsieur 
 Du Bois and Madame Duval, in which the Captain, and, at 
 his request, Sir Clement, went also ; Mrs. and Miss Mirvan 
 and I had a peaceful and comfortable ride by ourselves. 
 
 I doubt not but they quarrelled all the way ; for when we 
 met at Ranelagh, every one seemed out of humour : and, 
 though we joined parties, poor Madame Duval was avoided as 
 much as possible by all but me. 
 
 The room was so very much crowded that, but for the 
 uncommon assiduity of Sir Clement Willoughby, we should 
 not have been able to procure a box (which is the name given 
 to the arched recesses that are appropriated for tea-parties') 
 till half the company had retired. As we were taking posses- 
 sion of our places, some ladies of Mrs. Mirvan's acquaintance 
 stopped to speak to her, and persuaded her to take a round 
 with them. When she returned to us, what was my surprise, 
 to see that Lord Orville had joined her party ! The ladies 
 walked on ; Mrs. Mirvan seated herself, and made a slight, 
 though respectful, invitation to Lord Orville to drink his tea 
 with us, which, to my no small consternation, he accepted. 
 
 I felt a confusion unspeakable at again seeing him, from 
 the recollection of the ridotto adventure : nor did my situation 
 lessen it, for I was seated between Madame Duval and Sir 
 Clement, who seemed as little as myself to desire Lord Orville's 
 presence. Indeed, the continual wrangling and ill-breeding of 
 Captain Mirvan and Madame Duval, made me blush that I 
 belonged to them. And poor Mrs. Mirvan and her amiable 
 daughter had still less reason to be satisfied. 
 
 A general silence ensued after he was seated : his appear- 
 ance, from different motives, gave a universal restraint to 
 everybody. What his own reasons were for honouring us 
 with his company, I cannot imagine, unless, indeed, he had a 
 curiosity to know whether 1 should invent any new impertinence 
 concerning him. 
 
 The first speech was made by Madame Duval, who said, 
 ' It's quite a shocking thing to see ladies come to so genteel 
 a place as Ranelagh with hats on ; it has a monstrous vulgar 
 
 62
 
 EVELINA 
 
 look ; I can't think what they wear them for. There's not 
 such a thing to be seen in Paris.' 
 
 ' Indeed,' cried Sir Clement, 'I must own myself no advocate 
 for hats ; I am sorry the ladies ever invented or adopted so 
 tantalising a fashion ; for, where there is beauty, they only 
 serve to shade it, and where there is none, to excite a most 
 unavailing curiosity. I fancy they were originally worn by 
 some young and whimsical coquette.' 
 
 ' More likely,' answered the Captain, ' they were invented 
 by some wrinkled old hag, who'd a mind for to keep the 
 young fellows in chase, let them be never so weary.' 
 
 ' I don't know what you may do in England,' cried Madame 
 Duval, ' but I know in Paris no woman needn't be at such a 
 trouble as that, to be taken very genteel notice of.' 
 
 'Why, will you pretend for to say,' returned the Captain, 
 ' that they don't distinguish the old from the young there as 
 well as here ? ' 
 
 ' They don't make no distinguishments at all,' said she ; 
 'they're vastly too polite.' 
 
 ' More fools they ! ' cried the Captain, sneeringly. 
 
 'Would to Heaven,' cried Sir Clement, 'that, for our own 
 sakes, we Englishmen too were blest with so accommodating 
 a blindness.' 
 
 ' Why the devil do you make such a prayer as that ? ' 
 demanded the Captain ; 'them are the first foolish words I've 
 heard you speak ; but I suppose you're not much used to that 
 sort of work. Did you ever make a prayer before, since you 
 were a sniveller ? ' 
 
 'Ay, now,' cried Madame Duval, 'that's another of the 
 unpolitenesses of you English, to go to talking of such things 
 as that : now in Paris, nobody never says nothing about 
 religion, no more than about politics.' 
 
 ' Why then,' answered he, ' it's a sign they take no more 
 care of their souls than of their country, and so both one and 
 t'other go to Old Nick.' 
 
 ' Well, if they do,' said she, ' who's the worse, so long as 
 they don't say nothing about it ? it's the tiresomest thing in 
 the world to be always talking of them sort of things, and 
 nobody that's ever been abroad troubles their heads about 
 them.' 
 
 ' Pray then,' cried the Captain, ' since you know so much 
 
 63
 
 EVELINA 
 
 of the matter, be so good as to tell us what they do trouble 
 their heads about ? — hay, Sir Clement ! ha'n't we a right to 
 know that much ? ' 
 
 ' A very comprehensive question,' said Sir Clement, ' and I 
 expect much instruction from the lady's answer.' 
 
 'Come, Madam,' continued the Captain, 'never flinch; 
 speak at once ; don't stop for thinking.' 
 
 ' I assure you I am not going,' answered she ; ' for as to 
 what they do do, why they've enough to do, I promise you, 
 what with one thing or another.' 
 
 ' But what, what do they do, these famous Monseers ? ' 
 demanded the Captain ; ' can't you tell us ? do they game ? — 
 or drink ? — or fiddle ? — or are they jockeys ? — or do they spend 
 all their time in flummering old women ? ' 
 
 ' As to that, Sir, — but indeed I shan't trouble myself to 
 answer such a parcel of low questions, so don't ask me no 
 more about it.' And then, to my great vexation, turning to 
 Lord Orville, she said, ' Pray, Sir, was you ever in Paris ? ' 
 
 He only bowed. 
 
 ' And pray, Sir, how did you like it ? ' 
 
 Thus comprehensive question, as Sir Clement would have 
 called it, though it made him smile, also made him hesitate ; 
 however, his answer was expressive of his approbation. 
 
 ' I thought you would like it, Sir, because you look so like 
 a gentleman. As to the Captain, and as to that other gentle- 
 man, why they may very well not like what they don't know : 
 for I suppose, Sir, you was never abroad ? ' 
 
 ' Only three years, Ma'am,' answered Sir Clement, drily. 
 
 'Well, that's very surprising! I should never have thought 
 it : however, I dare say you only kept company with the 
 English.' 
 
 ' Why pray, who should he keep company with ? ' cried the 
 Captain ; ' what, I suppose you'd have him ashamed of his 
 own nation, like some other people not a thousand miles off, 
 on purpose to make his own nation ashamed of him?' 
 
 ' I'm sure it would be a very good thing if you'd go abroad 
 yourself.' 
 
 ' How will you make out that, hay, Madam ? come, please 
 to tell me, where wou'd be the good of that ? ' 
 
 ' Where ! why a great deal. They'd make quite another 
 person of you.' 
 
 64
 
 EVELINA 
 
 ' What, I suppose you'd have me learn to cut capers ? — 
 and dress like a monkey ? — and palaver in French gibberish ? 
 — hay, would you ? — And powder, and daub, and make myself 
 up, like some other folks ? ' 
 
 ■ I would have you learn to be more politer, Sir, and not to 
 talk to ladies in such a rude, old-fashion way as this. You, 
 Sir, as have been in Paris ' (again addressing herself to Lord 
 Orville), 'can tell this English gentleman how he'd be despised, 
 if he was to talk in such an ungenteel manner as this, before 
 any foreigners. Why there isn't a hairdresser, nor a shoe- 
 mak.r, nor nobody, that wouldn't blush to be in your company.' 
 
 'Why look ye. Madam,' answered the Captain, 'as to your 
 hair-pinchers and shoe-blacks, you may puff off their manners, 
 and welcome ; and I am heartily glad you like 'em so well ; 
 but as to me, since you must needs make so free of your 
 advice, I must e'en tell you, I never kept company with any 
 such gentry.' 
 
 'Come, ladies and gentlemen,' said Mrs. Mirvan, 'as many 
 of you as have done tea, I invite to walk with me.' Maria 
 and I started up instantly ; Lord Orville followed ; and I 
 question whether we were not half round the room ere the 
 angry disputants knew that we had left the box. ^ 
 
 As the husband of Mrs. Mirvan had borne so large a share' 
 in this disagreeable altercation, Lord Orville forbore to make \ 
 any comments upon it ; so that the subject was immediately 
 dropped, and the conversation became calmly sociable, and 
 politely cheerful, and, to everybody but me, must have been 
 highly agreeable ; — but, as to myself, I was so eagerly desirous 
 of making some apology to Lord Orville for the impertinence 
 of which he must have thought me guilty at the ridotto, and 
 yet so utterly unable to assume sufficient courage to speak to 
 him concerning an affair in which I had so terribly exposed 
 myself, that I hardly ventured to say a word all the time we 
 were walking. Besides, the knowledge of his contemptuous 
 opinion haunted and dispirited me, and made me fear he 
 might possibly misconstrue whatever I should say. So that, 
 far from enjoying a conversation which might, at any cither I 
 time, have delighted me, I continued silent, uncomfortable, 
 and ashamed. O Sir, shall I ever again involve myself in so 
 foolish an embarrassment ? I am sure that, if 1 do, I shall \ 
 deserve yet greater mortification. 
 
 6? F ■
 
 EVELINA 
 
 We were not joined by the rest of the party till we had 
 taken three or four turns round the room, and then they were 
 so quarrelsome, that Mrs. Mirvan complained of being fatigued, 
 and proposed going home. No one dissented. Lord Orville 
 joined another party, having first made an offer of his services, 
 which the gentlemen declined, and we proceeded to an outward 
 room, where we waited for the carriages. It was settled that 
 we should return to town in the same manner we came to 
 Ranelagh, and, accordingly, Monsieur Du Bois handed Madame 
 Duval into a hackney-coach, and was just preparing to follow 
 her, when she screamed, and jumped hastily out, declaring 
 she was wet through all her clothes. Indeed, upon examina- 
 tion, the coach was found to be in a dismal condition ; for the 
 weather proved very bad, and the rain had, though I know- 
 not how, made its way into the carriage. 
 
 Mrs. and Miss Mirvan, and myself, were already disposed 
 of as before ; but no sooner did the Captain hear this account, 
 than, without any ceremony, he was so civil as to immediately 
 take possession of the vacant seat in his own coach, leaving 
 Madame Duval and Monsieur Du Bois to take care of them- 
 selves. As to Sir Clement Willoughby, his own chariot was 
 in waiting. 
 
 I instantly begged permission to offer Madame Duval my 
 own place, and made a motion to get out ; but Mrs. Mirvan 
 stopped me, saying that I should then be obliged to return to 
 town with only the foreigner, or Sir Clement. 
 
 'O never mind the old beldame,' cried the Captain, 'she's 
 weather-proof, I'll answer for her ; and besides, as we are all, 
 I hope, English, why she'll meet with no worse than she ex- 
 pects from us.' 
 
 'I do not mean to defend her,' said Mrs. Mirvan; 'but 
 indeed, as she belongs to our party, we cannot, with any 
 decency, leave the place, till she is, by some means, accom 
 modated.' 
 
 ' Lord, my dear,' cried the Captain, whom the distress of 
 Madame Duval had put into very good humour, ' why she'll 
 break her heart if she meets with any civility from a filthy 
 Englishman.' 
 
 Mrs. Mirvan, however, prevailed, and we all got out of the 
 coach, to wait till Madame Duval could meet with some better 
 carriage. We found her, attended by Monsieur Du Bois, 
 
 66
 
 EVELINA 
 
 standing amongst the servants, and very busy in wiping her 
 negligee, and endeavouring to save it from being stained by 
 the wet, as she said it was a new Lyons silk. Sir Clement 
 Willoughby offered her the use of his chariot, but she had 
 been too much piqued by his raillery to accept it. We waited 
 some time, but in vain, for no hackney-coach could be procured. 
 The Captain, at last, was persuaded to accompany Sir Clement 
 himself, and we four females were handed into Mrs. Mirvan's 
 carriage, though not before Madame Duval had insisted upon 
 our making room for Monsieur Du Bois, to which the Captain 
 only consented in preference to being incommoded by him in 
 Sir Clement's chariot. 
 
 Our party drove off first. We were silent and unsociable ; 
 for the difficulties attending this arrangement had made every 
 one languid and fatigued. Unsociable, I must own, we con- 
 tinued ; but very short was the duration of our silence, as we 
 had not proceeded thirty yards, before every voice was heard 
 at once, — for the coach broke down ! I suppose we concluded, 
 of course, that we were all half killed, by the violent shrieks 
 that seemed to come from every mouth. The chariot was 
 stopped, the servants came to our assistance, and we were 
 taken out of the carriage, without having been at all hurt. 
 The night was dark and wet ; but I had scarce touched the 
 ground, when I was lifted suddenly from it by Sir Clement 
 Willoughby, who begged permission to assist me, though he 
 did not wait to have it granted, but carried me in his arms 
 back to Ranelagh. 
 
 He inquired very earnestly if I was not hurt by the accident ? 
 I assured him I was perfectly safe, and free from injury, and 
 desired he would leave me, and return to the rest of the part)', 
 for I was very uneasy to know whether they had been equally 
 fortunate. He told me he was happy in being honoured with 
 my commands, and would joyfully execute them ; but insisted 
 upon first conducting me to a warm room, as I had not wholly 
 escaped being wet. He did not regard my objections, but 
 made me follow him to an apartment, where we found an 
 excellent fire, and some company waiting for carriages. I 
 readily accepted a seat, and then begged he would go. 
 
 And go, indeed, he did ; but he returned in a moment, 
 telling me that the rain was more violent than ever, and that 
 he had sent his servants to offer their assistance, and acquaint 
 
 67
 
 EVELINA 
 
 the Mirvans of my situation. I was very mad that he would 
 not go himself; but as my acquaintance with him was so very 
 slight, I did not think proper to urge him contrary to his 
 inclination. 
 
 Well, he drew a chair close to mine, and, after again in- 
 quiring how I did, said, in a low voice, ' You will pardon me, 
 Miss Anville, if the eagerness I feel to vindicate myself, 
 induces me to snatch this opportunity of making sincere 
 acknowledgments for the impertinence with which I tormented 
 you at the last ridotto. I can assure you, Madam, I have 
 been a true and sorrowful penitent ever since ; but — shall 1 
 tell you honestly what encouraged me to ' 
 
 He stopped ; but I said nothing, for I thought instantly of 
 the conversation Miss Mirvan had overheard, and supposed he 
 was going to tell me himself what part Lord Orville had borne 
 in it ; and really I did not wish to hear it repeated. Indeed, 
 the rest of his speech convinces me that such was his intention ; 
 with what view, I know not, except to make a merit of his 
 defending me. 
 
 ' And yet,' he continued, ' my excuse may only expose my 
 own credulity, and want of judgment and penetration. I will, 
 therefore, merely beseech your pardon, and hope that some 
 future time ' 
 
 Just then the door was opened by Sir Clement's servant, 
 and I had the pleasure of seeing the Captain, Mrs. and Miss 
 Mirvan, enter the room. 
 
 ' O ho,' cried the former, ' you have got a good warm berth 
 here ; but we shall beat up your quarters. Here, Lucy, Moll, 
 come to the fire, and dry your trumpery. But, hey-day,- — 
 why where's old Madam French ?' 
 
 ' Good God,' cried I, ' is not Madame Duval then with you ?' 
 
 ' With me ! No, — thank God ! ' 
 
 I was very uneasy to know what might have become of her, 
 and, if they would have suffered me, I should have gone out 
 in search of her myself; but all the servants were dispatched 
 to find her, and the Captain said we might be very sure her 
 French beau would take care of her. 
 
 We waited some time without any tidings, and were soon 
 the only party in the room. My uneasiness increased so 
 much, that Sir Clement now made a voluntary offer of seeking 
 her. However, the same moment that he opened the door 
 
 68
 
 EVELINA 
 
 with this design, she presented herself at it, attended by 
 Monsieur Du Bois. 
 
 ' I was this instant, Madam,' said he, ' coming to see for 
 you.' 
 
 ' You are mighty good, truly,' cried she, ' to come when all 
 the mischief's over.' 
 
 She then entered, — in such a condition ! — entirely covered 
 with mud, and in so great a rage, it was with difficulty she 
 could speak. We all expressed our concern, and offered our 
 assistance, — except the Captain ; who no sooner beheld her, 
 than he burst into a loud laugh. 
 
 We endeavoured, by our inquiries and condolements, to 
 prevent her attending to him ; and she was, for some time, so 
 wholly engrossed by her anger and her distress, that we 
 succeeded without much trouble. We begged her to inform 
 us how this accident had happened. ' How ! ' repeated she,- — 
 ' why it was all along of your all going away, — and there poor 
 Monsieur Du Bois — but it wasn't his fault, — for he's as bad 
 off as me.' 
 
 All eyes were then turned to Monsieur Du Bois, whose 
 clothes were in the same miserable plight with those of 
 Madame Duval, and who, wet, shivering, and disconsolate, 
 had crept to the fire. 
 
 The Captain laughed yet more heartily ; while Mrs. Mirvan, 
 ashamed of his rudeness, repeated her inquiries to Madame 
 Duval ; who answered, ' Why, as we were a-coming along, all 
 in the rain, Monsieur Du Bois was so obliging, though I'm 
 sure it was an unlucky obligingness for me, as to lift me up in 
 his arms, to carry me over a place that was ankle-deep in mud ; 
 but instead of my being ever the better for it, just as we were 
 in the worst part, — I'm sure I wish we had been fifty miles 
 off, — for, somehow or other, his foot slipped, — at least, I suppose 
 so, — though I can't think how it happened, for I'm no such 
 great weight, — but, however that was, down we both came 
 together, all in the mud ; and the more we tried to get up, the 
 more deeper we got covered with the nastiness — and my new 
 Lyons negligee, too, quite spoilt ! — however, it's well we got 
 up at all, for we might have laid there till now, for aught you 
 all cared ; for nobody never came near us.' 
 
 This recital put the Captain into an ecstasy ; he went from 
 the lady to the gentleman, and from the gentleman to the lady, 
 
 69
 
 Held a candle to Madame Duval, that he might have a mote complete 
 view of her disaster.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 to enjoy alternately the sight of their distress. He really shouted 
 with pleasure ; and, shaking Monsieur Du Bois strenuously by 
 the hand, wished him joy of having touched English ground; 
 and then he held a candle to Madame Duval, that he might 
 have a more complete view of her disaster, declaring repeatedly, 
 that he had never been better pleased in his life. 
 
 The rage of poor Madame Duval was unspeakable ; she 
 dashed the candle out of his hand, stamped upon the floor, 
 and, at last, spit in his face. 
 
 This action seemed immediately to calm them both, as the 
 joy of the Captain was converted into resentment, and the 
 wrath of Madame Duval into fear ; for he put his hands upon 
 her shoulders, and gave her so violent a shake, that she 
 screamed out for help ; assuring her, at the same time, that if 
 she had been one ounce less old, or less ugly, she should have 
 had it all returned on her own face. 
 
 Monsieur Du Bois, who had seated himself very quietly at 
 the fire, approached them, and expostulated very warmly with 
 the Captain ; but he was neither understood nor regarded, and 
 Madame Duval was not released, till she quite sobbed with 
 passion. 
 
 When they were parted, I entreated her to permit the 
 woman who has the charge of the ladies' cloaks to assist in 
 drying her clothes ; she consented, and we did what was 
 possible to save her from catching cold. We were obliged to 
 wait in this disagreeable situation near an hour, before a 
 hackney-coach could be found ; and then we were disposed in 
 the same manner as before our accident. 
 
 I am going this morning to see poor Madame Duval, and 
 to inquire after her health, which I think must have suffered 
 by her last night's misfortunes ; though, indeed, she seems to 
 be naturally strong and hearty. 
 
 Adieu, my dear Sir, till to-morrow. 
 
 7i
 
 EVELINA 
 LETTER XVII 
 
 EVELINA IX CONTINUATION 
 
 Friday Mornings April 15. 
 
 Sir Clement Willoughby called here yesterday at noon, and 
 Captain Mirvan invited him to dinner. For my part, I spent 
 the day in a manner the most uncomfortable imaginable. 
 
 I found Madame Duval at breakfast in bed, though 
 Monsieur Du Bois was in the chamber ; which so much 
 astonished me, that I was, involuntarily, retiring, without con- 
 sidering how odd an appearance my retreat would have, when 
 Madame Duval called me back, and laughed very heartily at 
 my ignorance of foreign customs. 
 
 The conversation, however, very soon took a more serious 
 turn ; for she began, with great bitterness, to inveigh against 
 the barbarous brutality of that fellow the captain, and the 
 horrible ill-breeding of the English in general, declaring she 
 should make her escape with all expedition from so beastly a 
 nation. But nothing can be more strangely absurd, than to 
 hear politeness recommended in language so repugnant to it 
 as that of Madame Duval. 
 
 She lamented, very mournfully, the fate of her Lyons silk, 
 and protested she had rather have parted with all the rest of 
 her wardrobe, because it was the first gown she had bought to 
 wear upon leaving off her weeds. She has a very bad cold, 
 and Monsieur Du Bois is so hoarse he can hardly speak. 
 
 She insisted upon my staying with her all day, as she in- 
 tended, she said, to introduce me to some of my own relations. 
 I would very fain have excused myself, but she did not allow 
 me any choice. 
 
 Till the arrival of these relations, one continued series of 
 questions on her side, and of answers on mine, filled up all the 
 time we passed together. Her curiosity was insatiable ; she 
 inquired into every action of my life, and even' particular that 
 had fallen under my observation, in the lives of all I knew. 
 Again, she was so cruel as to avow the most inveterate rancour 
 against the sole benefactor her deserted child and grandchild 
 have met with ; and such was the indignation her ingratitude 
 
 72
 
 EVELINA 
 
 raised, that I would actually have quitted her presence and 
 house, had she not, in a manner the most peremptory, absolutely 
 forbid me. But what, good Heaven ! can induce her to such 
 shocking injustice ? O my friend and father ! I have no 
 command of myself when this subject is started. 
 
 She talked very much of taking me to Paris, and said I 
 greatly wanted the polish of a French education. She lamented 
 that I had been brought up in the country, which, she observed, 
 had given me a very bumfikinish air. However, she bid me 
 not despair, for she had known many girls, much worse than 
 me, who had become very fine ladies after a few years' residence 
 abroad ; and she particularly instanced a Miss Polly Moore, 
 daughter of a chandler's -shop woman, who, by an accident 
 not worth relating, happened to be sent to Paris, where, from 
 an awkward ill-bred girl, she so much improved, that she has 
 since been taken for a woman of quality. 
 
 The relations to whom she was pleased to introduce me, 
 consisted of a Mr. Branghton, who is her nephew, and three 
 of his children, the eldest of which is a son, and the two 
 younger are daughters. 
 
 Mr. Branghton appears about forty years of age. He does 
 not seem to want a common understanding, though he is very 
 contracted and prejudiced : he has spent his whole time in the 
 city, and I believe feels a great contempt for all who reside 
 elsewhere. 
 
 His son seems weaker in his understanding, and more gay 
 in his temper ; but his gaiety is that of a foolish, overgrown 
 schoolboy, whose mirth consists in noise and disturbance. 
 He disdains his father for his close attention to business, and 
 love of money, though he seems himself to have no talents, 
 spirit, or generosity, to make him superior to either. His 
 chief delight appears to be tormenting and ridiculirg his sisters, 
 who, in return, most heartily despise him. 
 
 Miss Branghton, the eldest daughter, is by no means ugly, 
 but looks proud, ill-tempered, and conceited. She hates the 
 city, though without knowing why ; for it is easy to discover 
 she has lived nowhere else. 
 
 Miss Polly Branghton is rather pretty, very foolish, very 
 ignorant, very giddy, and, I believe, very good-natured. 
 
 The first half- hour was allotted to making themselves 
 comfortable, for they complained of having had a very dirty 
 
 73
 
 EVELINA 
 
 walk, as they came on foot from Snow Hill, where Mr 
 Branghton keeps a silversmith's shop ; and the young ladies 
 had not only their coats to brush, and shoes to dry, but to 
 adjust their head-dress, which their bonnets had totally dis- 
 composed. 
 
 The manner in which Madame Duval was pleased to 
 introduce me to this family, extremely shocked me. ' Here, 
 my dears,' said she, 'here's a relation you little thought of: 
 but you must know my poor daughter Caroline had this child 
 after she run away from me, — though I never knew nothing 
 of it, not I, for a long while after ; for they took care to keep 
 it a secret from me, though the poor child has never a friend 
 in the world besides.' 
 
 ' Miss seems very tender-hearted, aunt,' said Miss Polly, 
 ' and to be sure she's not to blame for her mamma's undutiful- 
 ness, for she couldn't help it.' 
 
 ' Lord, no,' answered she, ' and I never took no notice of 
 it to her ; for indeed, as to that, my own poor daughter wasn't 
 so much to blame as you may think, for she'd never have 
 gone astray, if it had not been for that meddling old parson 
 I told you of 
 
 'If aunt pleases,' said young Mr. Branghton, 'we'll talk o' 
 somewhat else, for Miss looks very uneasy-like.' 
 
 The next subject that was chosen, was the age of the 
 three young Branghtons and myself. The son is twenty ; the 
 daughters, upon hearing that I was seventeen, said that was 
 just the age of Miss Polly ; but their brother, after a long 
 dispute, proved that she was two years older, to the great 
 anger of both sisters, who agreed that he was very ill-natured 
 and spiteful. 
 
 When this point was settled, the question was put. Which 
 was tallest? — We were desired to measure, as the Branghtons 
 were all of different opinions. None of them, however, 
 disputed my being the tallest in the company, but, in regard 
 to one another, they were extremely quarrelsome : the brother 
 insisted upon their measuring fair, and not with heads and 
 heels ; but they would by no means consent to lose those 
 privileges of our sex, and therefore the young man was cast, 
 as shortest ; though he appealed to all present upon the 
 injustice of the decree. 
 
 This ceremony over, the young ladies began, very freely, 
 
 74
 
 ■// ■/ 
 
 
 The young ladies began to examine my dress.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 to examine my dress, and to interrogate me concerning it. 
 'This apron's your own work, I suppose, Miss? but these 
 sprigs a'nt in fashion now. Pray, if it is not impertinent, 
 what might you give a yard for this lutestring ? — Do you 
 make your own caps, Miss? — ' and many other questions 
 equally interesting and well-bred. 
 
 They then asked me hmv I liked London ? and whether I 
 should not think the country a very dull place when I returned 
 thither ? ' Miss must try if she can't get a good husband,' 
 said Mr. Branghton, 'and then she may stay and live here.' 
 
 The next topic was public places, or rather the theatres, 
 for they knew of no other ; and the merits and defects of all 
 the actors and actresses were discussed : the young man here 
 took the lead, and seemed to be very conversant on the 
 subject. But during this time, what was my concern, and, 
 suffer me to add, my indignation, when I found, by some 
 words I occasionally heard, that Madame Duval was enter- 
 taining Mr. Branghton with all the most secret and cruel 
 particulars of my situation ! The eldest daughter was soon 
 drawn to them by the recital ; the youngest and the son 
 still kept their places, intending, I believe, to divert me, 
 though the conversation was all their own. 
 
 In a few minutes, Miss Branghton, coming suddenly up 
 to her sister, exclaimed, ' Lord, Polly, only think ! Miss never 
 saw her Papa ! ' 
 
 ' Lord, how odd ! ' cried the other ; ' why then, Miss, I 
 suppose you wouldn't know him ? ' 
 
 This was quite too much for me ; I rose hastily, and ran 
 out of the room : but I soon regretted I had so little command 
 of myself, for the two sisters both followed, and insisted upon 
 comforting me, notwithstanding my earnest entreaties to be 
 left alone. 
 
 As soon as I returned to the company, Madame Duval 
 said, ' Why, my dear, what was the matter with you ? why 
 did you run away so ? ' 
 
 This question almost made me run again, for I knew not 
 how to answer it. But, is it not very extraordinary, that she 
 can put me in situations so shocking, and then wonder to 
 find me sensible of any concern ? 
 
 Mr. Branghton, junior, now inquired of me whether I had 
 seen the Tower, or St. Paul's Church ? and upon my answering 
 
 76
 
 EVELINA 
 
 in the negative, they proposed making a party to show them 
 to me. Among other questions, they also asked if I had 
 ever seen such a thing as an Opera f I told them I had. 
 'Well, said Mr. Branghton, 'I never saw one in my life, so 
 long as I've lived in London, and I never desire to see one, 
 if I live here as much longer.' 
 
 ' Lord, Papa,' cried Miss Polly, ' why not ? you might 
 as well for once, for the curiosity of the thing : besides, Miss 
 Pomfret saw one, and she says it was very pretty.' 
 
 ' Miss will think us very vulgar,' said Miss Branghton, 'to 
 live in London, and never have been to an opera ; but it's no 
 fault of mine, I assure you, Miss, only Papa don't like to go.' 
 
 The result was, that a party was proposed, and agreed to, 
 for some early opportunity. I did not dare contradict them ; 
 but I said that my time, while I remained in town, was at 
 the disposal of Mrs. Mirvan. However, I am sure I will not 
 attend them, if I can possibly avoid so doing. 
 
 When we parted, Madame Duval desired to see me the 
 next day ; and the Branghtons told me, that the first time I 
 went towards Snow Hill, they should be very glad if I would 
 call upon them. 
 
 I wish we may not meet again till that time arrives. 
 
 I am sure I shall not be very ambitious of being known to 
 any more of my relations, if they have any resemblance to 
 those whose acquaintance I have been introduced to already. 
 
 LETTER XVIII 
 
 EVELINA IN CONTINUATION 
 
 I had just finished my letter to you this morning, when a 
 violent rapping at the door made me run downstairs ; and 
 who should I see in the drawing-room, but — Lord Orville ! 
 
 He was quite alone, for the family had not assembled to 
 breakfast. He inquired, first of mine, then of the health of 
 Mrs. and Miss Mirvan, with a degree of concern that rather 
 surprised me, till he said that he had just been informed of 
 the accident we had met with at Ranelagh. He expressed 
 his sorrow upon the occasion with the utmost politeness, and 
 
 77
 
 EVELINA 
 
 lamented that he had not been so fortunate as to hear of it 
 in time to offer his services. ' But I think." he added. ' Sir 
 Clement Willoughby had the honour of assisting you ? ' 
 
 ' He was with Captain Mii-van. my Lord.' 
 
 ' I had heard of his being of your par 
 
 I hope that flighty man has not been telling Lord Orville 
 he only assisted me .' however, he did not pursue the subject, 
 but said, ' This accident, though extremely unfortunate, will 
 not, I hope, be the means of frightening you from gracing 
 Ranelagh with your presence in future ? ' 
 
 ' Our time, my Lord, for London, is almost expired already.'' 
 
 ' Indeed ! do you leave town so very soon ': ' 
 
 ' O yes, my Lord : oar stay has already exceeded our 
 intentions.' 
 
 ' Are you. then, so particularly partial to the country ? 
 
 ' We merely came to town, my Lord, to meet Captain 
 Mirvan.' 
 
 'And does Miss Anville feel no concern at the idea of the 
 many mourners her absence will occasion ? ' 
 
 ' O, my Lord, — I'm sure you don't think— — - : I stopped 
 there, for, indeed, I hardly knew what I was going to say. My 
 foolish embarrassment. I suppose, was the cause of what 
 followed ; — for he came to me, and took my hand, saying. ' I 
 do think, that whoever has once seen Miss Anville must 
 receive an impression never to be forgotten/ 
 
 This compliment, — from Lord Orville. — so surprised me, that 
 I could not speak : but felt myself change colour, and stood, 
 for some moments, silent, and looking down ; however, the 
 instant I recollected my situation. I withdrew my hand, and 
 told him that I would see if Mrs. Mirvan was not dressed. He 
 did not oppose me. so away I went. 
 
 I met them all on the stairs, and returned with them to 
 breakfast. 
 
 I have since been extremely angry with myself for neglecting 
 so excellent an opportunity of apologising for my behaviour at 
 the ridotto ; but, to own the truth, that affair never once 
 occurred to me during the short tete-a-tete which we had 
 together. But, if ever we should happen to be so situated 
 again, I will certainly mention it ; for I am inexpressibly 
 concerned at the thought of his harbouring an opinion that I 
 am bold or impertinent, and I could almost kill mvself for 
 
 7S
 
 EVELINA 
 
 having given him the shadow of a reason for so shocking 
 an idea. 
 
 But was it not very odd that he should make me such a 
 compliment ? I expected it not from him ; — but gallantry, I 
 believe, is common to all men, whatever other qualities they 
 may have in particular. 
 
 Our breakfast was the most agreeable meal, if it may be 
 called a meal, that we have had since we came to town. Indeed, 
 but for Madame Duval I should like London extremely. 
 
 The conversation of Lord Orville is really delightful. His 
 manners are so elegant, so gentle, so unassuming, that they at 
 once engage esteem, and diffuse complacence. Far from being 
 indolently satisfied with his own accomplishments, as I have 
 already observed many men here are, though without any 
 pretensions to his merit, he is most assiduously attentive to 
 please and to serve all who are in his company : and, though 
 his success is invariable, he never manifests the smallest degree 
 of consciousness. 
 
 I could wish that you, my dearest Sir, knew Lord Orville, 
 because I am sure you would love him : and I have felt that 
 wish for no other person I have seen since I came to London. 
 I sometimes imagine, that, when his youth is flown, his vivacity 
 abated, and his life is devoted to retirement, he will, perhaps, 
 resemble him whom I most love and honour. His present 
 sweetness, politeness, and diffidence, seem to promise in future 
 the same benevolence, dignity, and goodness. But I must not 
 expatiate upon this subject. 
 
 When Lord Orville was gone. — and he made but a very- 
 short visit, — I was preparing, most reluctantly, to wait upon 
 Madame Duval ; but Mrs. Mirvan proposed to the Captain, 
 that she should be invited to dinner in Queen Ann Street, and 
 he readily consented, for he said he wished to ask after her 
 Lyons negligee. 
 
 The invitation is accepted, and we expect her every moment. 
 But to me, it is very strange, that a woman, who is the uncon- 
 trolled mistress of her time, fortune, and actions, should choose 
 to expose herself voluntarily to the rudeness of a man who is 
 openly determined to make her his sport. But she has very 
 few acquaintances, and. I fancy, scarce knows how to employ 
 herself. 
 
 How great is my obligation to Mrs. Mirvan, for bestowing 
 
 79
 
 EVELINA 
 
 her time in a manner so disagreeable to herself, merely to 
 promote my happiness ! every dispute in which her undeserving 
 husband engages, is productive of pain and uneasiness to her- 
 self; of this I am so sensible, that I even besought her not to 
 send to Madame Duval, but she declared she could not bear to 
 have me pass all my time, while in town, with her only. 
 Indeed she could not be more kind to me, were she your 
 daughter. 
 
 LETTER XIX 
 
 EVELINA IN CONTINUATION 
 
 Saturday Morning, April 16. 
 
 Madame Duval was accompanied by Monsieur Du Bois. I 
 am surprised that she should choose to introduce him where 
 he is so unwelcome ; and, indeed, it is strange that they should 
 be so constantly together : though I believe I should not have 
 taken notice of it, but that Captain Mirvan is perpetually 
 rallying me upon my grandmama's beau. 
 
 They were both received by Mrs. Mirvan with her usual 
 good-breeding ; but the Captain, most provokingly, attacked 
 her immediately, saying, ' Now, Madam, you that have lived 
 abroad, please to tell me this here : Which did you like best, 
 the warm room at Ranelagh, or the cold bath you went into 
 afterwards ? though, I assure you, you look so well that I 
 should advise you to take another dip.' 
 
 ' Ma foi, Sir,' cried she, 'nobody asked for your advice, so 
 you may as well keep it to yourself: besides, it's no such great 
 joke, to be splashed, and to catch cold, and spoil all one's 
 things, whatever you may think of it.' 
 
 '■Splashed, quoth-a ! — why I thought you were soused all 
 over. — Come, come, don't mince the matter, never spoil a good 
 story ; you know you hadn't a dry thread about you. — 'Fore 
 George, I shall never think on't without hallowing ! such a 
 poor, forlorn, draggle-tailed — gentlewoman! and poor Monseer 
 French, here, like a drowned rat, by your side '. ' 
 
 ' Well, the worse pickle we was in. so much the worser in 
 you not to help us, for you knowed where we were fast enough, 
 because, while I laid in the mud, I'm pretty sure I heard you 
 
 80
 
 Madame Duval, accompanied by Monsieur Du Bofs.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 snigger ; so it's like enough you jostled us down yourself, for 
 Monsieur Du Bois says, that he is sure he had a great jolt 
 given him, or he shouldn't have fell.' 
 
 The Captain laughed so immoderately, that he really gave 
 me also a suspicion that he was not entirely innocent of the 
 charge : however, he disclaimed it very peremptorily. 
 
 'Why then,' continued she, 'if you didn't do that, why 
 didn't you come to help us ?' 
 
 ' Who, I ? — what, do you suppose I had forgot I was an 
 Englishman — a filthy, beastly Englishman ?' 
 
 ' Very well, Sir, very well ; but I was a fool to expect any 
 better, for it's all of a piece with the rest ; you know you wanted 
 to fling me out of the coach-window, the very first time ever I 
 see you : but I'll never go to Ranelagh with you no more, that 
 I'm resolved ; for I dare say, if the horses had runn'd over 
 me, as I laid in that nastiness, you'd never have stirred a step 
 to save me.' 
 
 ' Lord, no, to be sure, Ma'am, not for the world ! I know 
 your opinion of our nation too well, to affront you by supposing 
 a Frenchman would want my assistance to protect you. Did 
 you think that Monseer here, and I, had changed characters, 
 and that he should pop you into the mud, and I help you out 
 of it ? Ha, ha, ha ! ' 
 
 ' O, very well, Sir, laugh on, it's like your manners ; 
 however, if poor Monsieur Du Bois hadn't met with that 
 unlucky accident himself, I shouldn't have wanted nobody's 
 help.' 
 
 ' O, I promise you, Madam, you'd never have had mine ; I 
 knew my distance better ; and as to your being a little ducked, 
 or so, why, to be sure, Monseer and you settled that between 
 yourselves ; so it was no business of mine.' 
 
 1 What, then, I suppose, you want to make me believe as 
 Monsieur Du Bois served me that trick o ; purpose? ' 
 
 ' O' purpose ! ay, certainly, who ever doubted that ? Do 
 you think a Frenchman ever made a blunder ? If he had 
 been some clumsy-footed English fellow, indeed, it might have 
 been accidental : but what the devil signifies all your hopping 
 and capering with your dancing-masters, if you can't balance 
 yourselves upright ? ' 
 
 In the midst of this dialogue. Sir Clement Willoughby 
 made his appearance. He affects to enter the house with the 
 
 82
 
 EVELINA 
 
 freedom of an old acquaintance, and this very easiness, which, 
 to me, is astonishing, is what most particularly recommends 
 him to the Captain. Indeed, he seems very successfully to 
 study all the humours of that gentleman. 
 
 After having heartily welcomed him, ' You are just come in 
 time, my boy,' said he, ' to settle a little matter of a dispute 
 between this here gentlewoman and I ; do you know, she has 
 been trying to persuade me, that she did not above half like 
 the ducking Monsecr gave her t'other night.' 
 
 ' I should have hoped ' (said Sir Clement, with the utmost 
 gravity) ' that the friendship subsisting between that lady and 
 gentleman, would have guarded them against any actions 
 professedly disagreeable to each other ; but, probably, they 
 might not have discussed the matter previously ; in which 
 case, the gentleman, I must own, seems to have been guilty of 
 inattention, since, in my humble opinion, it was his business 
 first to have inquired whether the lady preferred soft or hard 
 ground, before he dropped her.' 
 
 ' O very fine, gentlemen, very fine,' cried Madame Duval, 
 ' you may try to set us together by the ears as much as you 
 will ; but I'm not such an ignorant person as to be made a 
 fool of so easily ; so you needn't talk no more about it, for I 
 sees into your designs.' 
 
 Monsieur Du Bois, who was just able to discover the 
 subject upon which the conversation turned, made his defence, 
 in French, with great solemnity : he hoped, he said, that the 
 company would at least acknowledge, he did not come from a 
 nation of brutes, and consequently, that to wilfully offend any 
 lady, was, to him, utterly impossible ; but that, on the contrary, 
 in endeavouring, as was his duty, to save and guard her, he 
 had himself suffered, in a manner which he would forbear to 
 relate, but which, he greatly apprehended, he should feel the 
 ill effects of for many months ; and then, with a countenance 
 exceedingly lengthened, he added, that he hoped it would not 
 be attributed to him as national prejudice, when he owned that 
 he must, to the best of his memory, aver, that his unfortunate 
 fall was owing to a sudden, but violent push, which, he was 
 shocked to say, some malevolent person, with a design to his 
 injury, must certainly have given him ; but whether with a view 
 to mortify him, by making him let the lady fall, or whether 
 merely to spoil his clothes, he could not pretend to determine. 
 
 83
 
 Monsieur Du Bois making /lis defence.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 This disputation was, at last, concluded by Mrs. Mirvan's 
 proposing that we should all go to Cox's Museum. Nobody 
 objected, and carriages were immediately ordered. 
 
 In our way downstairs, Madame Duval, in a very passionate 
 manner, said, ' Ma foi, if I wouldn't give fifty guineas only to 
 know who gave us that shove ! ' 
 
 This Museum is very astonishing, and very superb ; yet it 
 afforded me but little pleasure, for it is a mere show, though a 
 wonderful one. 
 
 Sir Clement Willoughby, in our walk round the room, asked 
 me what my opinion was of this brilliant spectacle ? 
 
 ' It is very fine, and very ingenious,' answered I, ' and yet 
 — I don't know how it is, — but I seem to miss something? 
 
 ' Excellently answered ! ' cried he, ' you have exactly defined 
 my own feelings, though in a manner I should never have 
 arrived at. But I was certain your taste was too well formed, 
 to be pleased at the expense of your understanding.' 
 
 ' Pardi} cried Madame Duval, ' I hope you two is difficult 
 enough ! I'm sure if you don't like this, you like nothing ; for 
 it's the grandest, prettiest, finest sight that ever I see in England.' 
 
 ' What ' (cried the Captain with a sneer), ' I suppose this 
 may be in your French taste ? it's like enough, for it's all 
 kickshaw work. But, pr'ythee, friend ' (turning to the person 
 who explained the devices), ' will you tell me the use of all this ? 
 for I'm not enough of a conjurer to find it out.' 
 
 ' Use, indeed ! ' (repeated Madame Duval disdainfully). 
 ' Lord, if everything's to be useful ! ' 
 
 'Why, Sir, as to that, Sir,' said our conductor, 'the in- 
 genuity of the mechanism, — the beauty of the workmanship, — 
 the— undoubtedly, Sir, any person of taste may easily discern 
 the utility of such extraordinary performances.' 
 
 ' Why, then, Sir,' answered the Captain, ' your person of 
 taste must be either a coxcomb, or a Frenchman ; though, for 
 the matter of that, 'tis the same thing.' 
 
 Just then, our attention was attracted by a pine-apple, 
 which, suddenly opening, discovered a nest of birds, who 
 immediately began to sing. ' Well,' cried Madame Duval, 
 ' this is prettier than all the rest ! I declare, in all my travels, 
 I never see nothing eleganter.' 
 
 'Hark ye, friend,' said the Captain, 'hast never another 
 pine-apple ? ' 
 
 85
 
 EVELINA 
 
 ' Sir ? " 
 
 ' Because, if thou hast, pr'ythee give it us without the birds : 
 for, d'ye see. I'm no Frenchman, and should relish something 
 more substantial.' 
 
 This entertainment concluded with a concert of mechanical 
 music : I cannot explain how it was produced, but the effect 
 was pleasing. Madame Duval was in ecstasies ; and the 
 Captain flung himself into so many ridiculous distortions, by 
 way of mimicking her, that he engaged the attention of all the 
 company ; and. in the midst of the performance of the Corona- 
 tion Anthem, while Madame Duval was affecting to beat time, 
 and uttering many expressions of delight, he called suddenly 
 for salts, which a lady, apprehending some distress, politely 
 handed to him, and which, instantly applying to the nostrils of 
 poor Madame Duval, she involuntarily snuffed up such a 
 quantity, that the pain and surprise made her scream aloud. 
 When she recovered, she reproached him, with her usual 
 vehemence : but he protested he had taken that measure out 
 of pure friendship, as he concluded, from her raptures, that 
 she was going into hysterics. This excuse by no means ap- 
 peased her, and they had a violent quarrel ; but the only effect 
 her anger had on the Captain was to increase his diversion. 
 Indeed, he laughs and talks so terribly loud in public, that he 
 frequently makes us ashamed of belonging to him. 
 
 Madame Duval, notwithstanding her wrath, made no scruple 
 of returning to dine in Queen Ann Street. Mrs. Mirvan 
 had secured places for the play at Drury Lane Theatre, and, 
 though ever uneasy in her company, she very politely invited 
 Madame Duval to be of our party ; however, she had a 
 cold, and chose to nurse it. I was sorry for her indisposition, 
 but I knew not how to be sorry she did not accompany us, 
 for she is — I must not say what, but very unlike other people 
 
 LETTER XX 
 
 EVELINA IX CONTINUATION" 
 
 Our places were in the front row of a side-box. Sir 
 Clement Willoughby. who knew our intention, was at the door 
 of the theatre, and handed us from the carriage. 
 
 86
 
 EVELINA 
 
 We had not been seated five minutes, before Lord Orville, 
 who we saw in the stage-box, came to us : and he honoured 
 us with his company all the evening. Miss Mirvan and I 
 both rejoiced that Madame Duval was absent, as we hoped 
 for the enjoyment of some conversation, uninterrupted by her 
 quarrels with the Captain : but I soon found that her presence 
 would have made very little alteration, for so far was I from 
 daring to speak, that I knew not where even to look. 
 
 The play was Un . and though it is fraught 
 
 wit and entertainment, I hope I shall never see it represented 
 again ; for it is so extremely indelicate, — to use t' 
 word I can. — that Miss Mirvan and I were perpetually out of 
 countenance, and could neither make any observations our- 
 selves, nor venture to listen to those of others. This was the 
 more provoking, as Lord Orville was in excefle and 
 
 exceedingly entertaining. 
 
 When the play was over. I flattered myself I should be able 
 to look about me with less restraint, as we intended to • 
 the farce : but the curtain had hardly dropped, when the box- 
 door opened, and in came Mr. Lovel, the man by whose 
 foppery and impertinence I was so much teased at the ball 
 where I first saw Lord Orville. 
 
 I turned away my head, and began talking to Miss Mirvan, 
 for I was desirous to avoid speaking to him : — but in vain, for 
 as soon as he had made his compliments to Lord Orville and 
 Sir Clement Willoughby. who returned them very coldly, he 
 bent his head forward, and said to me, • I hope. Ma'am. 
 have enjoyed your health since I had the honour — I beg ten 
 thousand pardons, but I protest I was g g 1 - tbe honour 
 of dancing with you — however, I mean the honour of se 
 you dance ; ' 
 
 He spoke with a self-complacency, that convinced me he 
 had studied this address, by way of making reprisals for my 
 conduct at the ball : I therefore bow; L slightly, but made no 
 answer. 
 
 After a short silence, he again called r: tkm, by 
 
 saying, in an easy, negligent way. • I think. Ma'am, you was 
 never in town before ? ' 
 
 • No, - 
 
 ' So I did presume. Doubtless. Ma'am, e , must 
 
 be infinitely novel to you. Our l - -
 
 • Doubtless, Ma'am everything must h- infinitely navel to you.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 etiquettes de nous mitres, can have very little resemblance to 
 those you have been used to. I imagine, Ma'am, your retire- 
 ment is at no very small distance from the capital ? ' 
 
 I was so much disconcerted at this sneering speech, that I 
 said not a word ; though I have since thought my vexation 
 both stimulated and delighted him. 
 
 ' The air we breathe here, however, Ma'am ' (continued 
 he, very conceitedly), ' though foreign to that you have been 
 accustomed to, has not, I hope, been at variance with your 
 health ? ' 
 
 ' Mr. Lovel,' said Lord Orville, ' could not your eye have 
 spared that question ? ' 
 
 ' O, my Lord,' answered he, ' if health were the only cause 
 of a lady's bloom, my eye, I grant, had been infallible from 
 the first glance ; but ' 
 
 'Come, come,' cried Mrs. Mirvan, ' I must beg no insinua- 
 tions of that sort ; Miss Anville's colour, as you have success- 
 fully tried, may, you see, be heightened ; — but I assure you, 
 it would be past your skill to lessen it.' 
 
 ' 'Pon honour, Madam,' returned he, ' you wrong me ; I 
 presumed not to infer that rouge was the only succedaneum 
 for health ; but, really, I have known so many different causes 
 for a lady's colour, such as flushing, — anger, — mauvaise honte, 
 — and so forth, that I never dare decide to which it may be 
 owing.' 
 
 'As to such causes as them there,' cried the Captain, 'they 
 must belong to those that they keep company with.' 
 
 'Very true, Captain,' said Sir Clement; 'the natural com- 
 plexion has nothing to do with occasional sallies of the passions, 
 or any accidental causes.' 
 
 ' No, truly,' returned the Captain, ' for now here's me, why 
 I look like any other man just now ; and yet, if you were to 
 put me in a passion, 'fore George, you'd soon see me have as 
 fine a high colour as any painted Jezabel in all this place, be 
 she never so bedaubed.' 
 
 ' But,' said Lord Orville, ' the difference of natural and of 
 artificial colour seems to me very easily discerned ; that of 
 Nature is mottled, and varying ; that of art, set, and too 
 smooth ; it wants that animation, that glow, that indescribable 
 somctJiing which, even now that I see it, wholly surpasses all 
 my powers of expression.' 
 
 89
 
 EVELINA 
 
 ' Your Lordship,' said Sir Clement, ' is universally acknow- 
 ledged to be a connoisseur in beauty.' 
 
 'And you, Sir Clement,' returned he, 'an enthusiast.'' 
 
 ' I am proud to own it,' cried Sir Clement ; ' in such a 
 cause, and before such objects, enthusiasm is simply the 
 consequence of not being blind.' 
 
 ' Pr'ythee a truce with all this palavering,' cried the Captain ; 
 ' the women are vain enough already ; no need for to puff 'em 
 up more.' 
 
 'We must all submit to the commanding officer,' said Sir 
 Clement, ' therefore let us call another subject. Pray, ladies, 
 how have you been entertained with the play ? ' 
 
 'Want of entertainment,' said Mrs. Mirvan, 'is its least 
 fault ; but I own there are objections to it, which I should be 
 glad to see removed.' 
 
 ' I could have ventured to answer for the ladies,' said Lord 
 Orville, ' since I am sure this is not a play that can be honoured 
 with their approbation.' 
 
 ' What, I suppose it is not sentimental enough ! ' cried the 
 Captain, ; or else it's too good for them; for I'll maintain it's 
 one of the best comedies in the language, and has more wit 
 in one scene, than there is in all the new plays put together.' 
 
 ' For my part,' said Mr. Lovel, ' I confess I seldom listen 
 to the players : one has so much to do, in looking about, and 
 finding out one's acquaintance, that, really, one has no time to 
 mind the stage. Pray ' (most affectedly fixing his eyes upon 
 a diamond ring on his little finger i, — ' pray — what was the play 
 to-night ?' 
 
 'Why, what the D 1,' cried the Captain, 'do you come 
 
 to the play without knowing what it is?' 
 
 'O yes, Sir, yes, very frequently: I have no time to read 
 play-bills ; one merely comes to meet one's friends, and show 
 that one's alive.' 
 
 ' Ha, ha, ha ! — and so,' cried the Captain, ' it costs you rive 
 shillings a night just to show that you're alive ! Well, faith, 
 my friends should all think me dead and under ground before 
 I'd be at that expense for 'em. Howsomever, this here you 
 may take from me ; — they'll find you out fast enough, if you've 
 anything to give 'em. And so you've been here all this time, 
 and don't know what the play was ? ' 
 
 ' Why, really, Sir, a play requires so much attention, — it is 
 90
 
 EVELINA 
 
 scarce possible to keep awake, if one listens ; for, indeed, by 
 the time it is evening, one has been so fatigued with dining, 
 — or wine, — or the house, — or studying, — that it is — it is 
 perfectly an impossibility. But, now I think of it, I believe I 
 have a bill in my pocket ; O, ay, here it is — Love for Lore, 
 ay, — true, — ha, ha, — how could I be so stupid ! ' 
 
 ' O, easily enough, as to that, I warrant you,' said the 
 Captain ; ' but, by my soul, this is one of the best jokes I ever 
 heard ? Come to a play, and not know what it is ! — Why, I 
 suppose you wouldn't have found it out, if they had fob\i you 
 off with a scraping of fiddlers, or an opera ?■ — Ha ! ha ! ha ! — 
 why now, I should have thought you might have taken some 
 notice of one Mr. Tattle that is in this play ! ' 
 
 This sarcasm, which caused a general smile, made him 
 colour : but turning to the Captain with a look of conceit, 
 which implied that he had a retort ready, he said, ' Pray, Sir, 
 give me leave to ask, — what do you think of one Mr. Ben, 
 who is also in this play ? ' 
 
 The Captain, regarding him with the utmost contempt, 
 answered in a loud voice, ' Think of him ! — why I think he's 
 a man .' ' And then, staring full in his face, he struck his 
 cane on the ground, with a violence that made him start. He 
 did not, however, choose to take any notice of this ; but, 
 having bit his nails some time, in manifest confusion, he 
 turned very quick to me, and, in a sneering tone of voice, 
 said, ' For my part, I was most struck with the country young 
 lady, Miss Prue ; pray what do you think of her, Ma'am ? ' 
 
 ' Indeed, Sir,' cried I, very much provoked, ' I think — that 
 is, I do not think anything about her.' 
 
 ' Well, really, Ma'am, you prodigiously surprise me ! — 
 mats, apparemment ce it est qu'un facon de parler t — though I 
 should beg your pardon, for probably you do not understand 
 French ? ' 
 
 I made no answer, for I thought his rudeness intolerable ; 
 but Sir Clement, with great warmth, said, ' I am surprised 
 that you can suppose such an object as Miss Prue would 
 engage the attention of Miss Anville even for a moment.' 
 
 ' O, Sir,' returned this fop, "tis the first character in the 
 piece! — so well drawn, — so much the thing! — such true 
 country-breeding, — such rural ignorance ! — ha ! ha ! ha ! — 'tis 
 most admirably hit off, 'pon honour ! ' 
 
 9 1
 
 EVELINA 
 
 I could almost have cried, that such impertinence should 
 be levelled at me ; and yet, chagrined as I was, I could never 
 behold Lord Orville and this man at the same time, and feel 
 any regret for the cause I had given of displeasure. 
 
 ' The only female in the play,' said Lord Orville, ' worthy 
 of being mentioned to these ladies, is Angelica.' 
 
 'Angelica,' cried Sir Clement, 'is a noble girl; she tries 
 her lover severely, but she rewards him generously.' 
 
 ' Yet, in a trial so long,' said Mrs. Mirvan, ' there seems 
 rather too much consciousness of her power.' 
 
 'Since my opinion has the sanction of Mrs. Mirvan's,' 
 added Lord Orville, ' I will venture to say that Angelica 
 bestows her hand rather with the air of a benefactress, than 
 with the tenderness of a mistress. Generosity without delicacy, 
 like wit without judgment, generally gives as much pain as 
 pleasure. The uncertainty in which she keeps Valentine, and 
 her manner of trifling with his temper, give no very favourable 
 idea of her own.' 
 
 ' Well, my Lord,' said Mr. Lovel, ' it must, however, be 
 owned, that uncertainty is not the ton among our ladies at 
 present ; nay, indeed, I think they say, though, faith,' taking 
 a pinch of snuff, ' I hope it is not true — but they say, that we 
 now are most shy and backward.' 
 
 The curtain then drew up, and our conversation ceased. 
 Mr. Lovel, finding we chose to attend to the players, left the 
 box. How strange it is, Sir, that this man, not contented 
 with the large share of foppery and nonsense which he has 
 from nature, should think proper to affect yet more ! for what 
 he said of Tattle and of Miss Prue, convinced me that he 
 really had listened to the play, though he was so ridiculous 
 and foolish as to pretend ignorance. 
 
 But how malicious and impertinent in this creature to talk 
 to me in such a manner ! I am sure I hope I shall never see 
 him again. I should have despised him heartily as a fop, had 
 he never spoken to me at all ; but now that he thinks proper 
 to resent his supposed ill-usage, I am really quite afraid of 
 him. 
 
 The entertainment was, The Deuce is in Hi»u which Lord 
 Orville observed to be the most finished and elegant petite 
 piece that was ever written in English. 
 
 In our way home, Mrs. Mirvan put me into some con- 
 92
 
 EVELINA 
 
 sternation, by saying it was evident, from the resentment 
 which this Mr. Lovel harbours of my conduct, that he would 
 think it a provocation sufficiently important for a duel, if his 
 courage equalled his wrath. 
 
 I am terrified at the very idea. Good Heaven ! that a 
 man so weak and frivolous should be so revengeful ! How- 
 ever, if bravery would have excited him to affront Lord Orville, 
 how much reason have I to rejoice that cowardice makes him 
 contented with venting his spleen upon me ! But we shall 
 leave town soon, and, I hope, see him no more. 
 
 It was some consolation to me, to hear from Miss Mirvan, 
 that, while he was speaking to me so cavalierly, Lord Orville 
 regarded him with great indignation. 
 
 But, really, I think there ought to be a book, of the laws 
 and customs a- la- mode, presented to all young people upon 
 their first introduction into public company. 
 
 To-night we go to the opera, where I expect very great 
 pleasure. We shall have the same party as at the play ; for 
 Lord Orville said he should be there, and would look for us. 
 
 LETTER XXI 
 
 EVELINA IN CONTINUATION 
 
 I have a volume to write of the adventures of yesterday. 
 
 In the afternoon, — at Berry Hill, I should have said the 
 evening, for it was almost six o'clock, — while Miss Mirvan 
 and I were dressing for the opera, and in high spirits, from 
 the expectation of great entertainment and pleasure, we heard 
 a carriage stop at the door, and concluded that Sir Clement 
 Willoughby, with his usual assiduity, was come to attend us 
 to the Haymarket ; but, in a few moments, what was our 
 surprise, to see our chamber- door flung open, and the two 
 Miss Branghtons enter the room ! They advanced to me with 
 great familiarity, saying, ' How do you do, cousin ? — so we've 
 caught you at the glass! — well, I'm determined Til tell my 
 brother of that ! ' 
 
 Miss Mirvan, who had never before seen them, and could 
 not, at first, imagine who they were, looked so much astonished, 
 
 93
 
 ' So we've canglit you at the glass.'
 
 EVELINA 
 
 that I was ready to laugh myself, till the eldest said, ' We're 
 come to take you to the opera, Miss ; papa and my brother 
 are below, and we are to call for your grandmama as we go 
 along.' 
 
 ' I am very sorry,' answered I, ' that you should have taken 
 so much trouble, as I am engaged already.' 
 
 ' Engaged ! Lord, Miss, never mind that,' cried the 
 youngest ; ' this young lady will make your excuses, I dare 
 say ; it's only doing as one would be done by, you know.' 
 
 ' Indeed, Ma'am,' said Miss Mirvan, ' I shall myself be very 
 sorry to be deprived of Miss Anville's company this evening.' 
 
 ' Well, Miss, that is not so very good-natured in you,' said 
 Miss Branghton, ' considering we only come to give our cousin 
 pleasure ; it's no good to us ; it's all upon her account ; for 
 we came I don't know how much round about to take 
 her up.' 
 
 ' I am extremely obliged to you,' said I, ' and very sorry 
 you have lost so much time ; but I cannot possibly help it, for 
 I engaged myself without knowing you would call.' 
 
 ' Lord, what signifies that?' said Miss Polly, 'you're no old 
 maid, and so you needn't be so very formal : besides, I dare 
 say those you are engaged to a'n't half so near related to you 
 as we are.' 
 
 ' I must beg you not to press me any further, for I assure 
 you it is not in my power to attend you.i 
 
 ' Why we came all out of the city on purpose : besides, 
 your grandmama expects you ; — and pray, what are we to say 
 to her ? ' 
 
 ' Tell her, if you please, that I am much concerned, — but 
 that I am pre-engaged.' 
 
 'And who to?' demanded the abrupt Miss Branghton. 
 
 'To Mrs. Mirvan, — and a large party.' 
 
 ' And, pray, what are you all going to do, that it would be 
 such a mighty matter for you to come along with us ? ' 
 
 ' We are all going to — to the opera.' 
 
 'O dear, if that be all, why can't we go all together?' 
 
 I was extremely disconcerted at this forward and ignorant 
 behaviour, and yet their rudeness very much lessened my 
 concern at refusing them. Indeed, their dress was such as 
 would have rendered their scheme of accompanying our party 
 impracticable, even if I had desired it ; and this, as they did 
 
 95
 
 EVELINA 
 
 not themselves find out, I was obliged, in terms the least 
 mortifying I could think of, to tell them. 
 
 They were very much chagrined, and asked where I 
 should sit. 
 
 ' In the pit,' answered I. 
 
 ' In the pit ! ' repeated Miss Branghton, ' well, really, I 
 must own I should never have supposed that my gown was 
 not good enough for the pit : but come, Polly, let's go ; if 
 Miss does not think us fine enough for her, why to be sure 
 she may choose.' 
 
 Surprised at this ignorance, I would have explained to them 
 that the pit at the opera required the same dress as the boxes ; 
 but they were so much affronted, they would not hear me, 
 and, in great displeasure, left the room, saying they would not 
 have troubled me, only they thought I should not be so proud 
 with my own relations, and that they had at least as good a 
 right to my company as strangers. 
 
 I endeavoured to apologise, and would have sent a long 
 message to Madame Duval ; but they hastened away without 
 listening to me ; and I could not follow them downstairs, 
 because I was not dressed. The last words I heard them say, 
 were, ' Well, her grandmama will be in a fine passion, that's 
 one good thing.' 
 
 Though I was extremely mad at this visit, yet I so heartily 
 rejoiced at their going, that I would not suffer myself to think 
 gravely about it. 
 
 Soon after Sir Clement actually came, and we all went 
 downstairs. Mrs. Mirvan ordered tea ; and we were engaged 
 in a very lively conversation, when the servant announced 
 Madame Duval, who instantly followed him into the room. 
 
 Her face was the colour of scarlet, and her eyes sparkled 
 with fury. She came up to me with a hasty step, saying, ' So, 
 Miss, you refuses to come to me, do you ? And pray who are 
 you, to dare to disobey me ? ' 
 
 I was quite frightened; — I made no answer; — I even 
 attempted to rise, and could not, but sat still, mute and 
 motionless. 
 
 Everybody, except Miss Mirvan, seemed in the utmost 
 astonishment ; and theCaptain, rising and approaching Madame 
 Duval, with a voice of authority, said, 'Why, how now, Mrs. 
 Turkey Cock, what's put you into this here fluster ? ' 
 
 96
 
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 ^' 
 
 
 Her eyes sparkled with fury.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 'It's nothing to you,'' answered she, 'so you may as well 
 hold your tongue, for I sha'n't be called to no account by you, 
 I assure you.' 
 
 'There you're out, Madam Fury,' returned he, 'for you 
 must know I never suffer anybody to be in a passion in my 
 house but myself.' 
 
 ' But you shall,' cried she, in a great rage, 'for I'll be in as 
 great a passion as ever I please, without asking your leave ; 
 so don't give yourself no more airs about it. And as for you, 
 Miss,' again advancing to me, ' I order you to follow me this 
 moment, or else I'll make you repent it all your life.' And, 
 with these words, she flung out of the room. 
 
 I was in such extreme terror, at being addressed and 
 threatened in a manner to which I am so wholly unused, that 
 I almost thought I should have fainted. 
 
 'Don't be alarmed, my love,' cried Mrs. Mirvan, 'but stay 
 where you are, and I will follow Madame Duval, and try to 
 bring her to reason.' 
 
 Miss Mirvan took my hand, and most kindly endeavoured 
 to raise my spirits : Sir Clement, too, approached me, with an 
 air so interested in my distress, that I could not but feel 
 myself obliged to him ; and, taking my other hand, said, ' For 
 Heaven's sake, my dear Madam, compose yourself ; surely 
 the violence of such a wretch ought merely to move your con- 
 tempt ; she can have no right, I imagine, to lay her commands 
 upon you, and I only wish that you would allow Die to speak 
 to her.' 
 
 ' O no ! not for the world ! — -indeed, I believe, — I am afraid 
 — I had better follow her.' 
 
 ' Follow her ! Good God, my dear Miss Anville, would 
 you trust yourself with a mad woman ? for what else can you 
 call a creature whose passions are so insolent ? Xo, no ; 
 send her word at once to leave the house, and tell her you 
 desire that she will never see you again.' 
 
 'O Sir! you don't know who you talk of! — it would ill 
 become me to send Madame Duval such a message.' 
 
 ' But whyj cried he (looking very inquisitive), ' tu/iy should 
 you scruple to treat her as she deserves ? ' 
 
 I then found that his aim was to discover the nature of her 
 connection with me ; but I felt so much ashamed of my near 
 relationship to her, that I could not persuade myself to answer
 
 EVELINA 
 
 him, and only entreated that he would leave her to Mrs, 
 Mirvan, who just then entered the room. 
 
 Before she could speak to me, the Captain called out, 
 ' Well, Goody, what have you done with Madame French ? is 
 she cooled a little ? 'cause if she ben't, I've just thought of a 
 most excellent device to bring her to.' 
 
 ' My dear Evelina,' said Mrs. Mirvan, ' I have been vainly 
 endeavouring to appease her ; I pleaded your engagement, 
 and promised your future attendance : but I am sorry to say, 
 my love, that I fear her rage will end in a total breach (which 
 I think you had better avoid) if she is any further opposed.' 
 
 'Then I will go to her, Madam,' cried I, 'and, indeed, it 
 is now no matter, for I should not be able to recover my spirits 
 sufficiently to enjoy much pleasure anywhere this evening.' 
 
 Sir Clement began a very warm expostulation and entreaty, 
 that I would not go ; but I begged him to desist, and told 
 him, very honestly, that, if my compliance were not indis- 
 pensably necessary, I should require no persuasion to stay. 
 He then took my hand to lead me downstairs ; but the Captain 
 desired him to be quiet, saying he would 'squire me himself, 
 ' because,' he added (exultingly rubbing his hands'), ' I have a 
 wipe ready for the old lady, which may serve her to chew as 
 she goes along.' 
 
 We found her in the parlour. ' Oh, you're come at last, 
 Miss, are you?- — fine airs you give yourself, indeed ! mafoi, if 
 you hadn't come, you might have stayed, I assure you, and 
 have been a beggar for your pains.' 
 
 ' Heyday, Madam,' cried the Captain (prancing forward, 
 with a look of great glee), ' what, a'n't you got out of that there 
 passion yet ? why then, I'll tell you what to do to cool your- 
 self; call upon your old friend, Monseer Slippery, who was 
 with you at Ranelagh, and give my service to him, and tell 
 him, if he sets any store by your health, that I desire he'll give 
 you such another souse as he did before : he'll know what I 
 mean, and I'll warrant you he'll do't for my sake.' 
 
 ' Let him, if he dares ! ' cried Madame Duval ; ' but I 
 sha'n't stay to answer you no more ; you are a vulgar fellow- 
 and so, child, let us leave him to himself.' 
 
 'Hark ye, Madam,' cried the Captain, 'you'd best not call 
 names, because, d'ye see, if you do, I shall make bold to show 
 you the door.' 
 
 99
 
 EVELINA 
 
 She changed colour, and saying, ' Pardi, I can show it my- 
 self,' hurried out of the room, and I followed her into a 
 hackney-coach. But before we drove off, the Captain, looking 
 out of the parlour window, called out, ' D'ye hear, Madam, — 
 don't forget my message to Monseer.' 
 
 You will believe our ride was not the most agreeable in the 
 world ; indeed, it would be difficult to say which was least 
 pleased, Madame Duval or me, though the reasons of our dis- 
 content were so different : however, Madame Duval soon got 
 the start of me ; for we had hardly turned out of Queen Ann 
 Street, when a man, running full speed, stopped the coach. He 
 came up to the window, and I saw he was the Captain's 
 servant. He had a broad grin on his face, and panted for 
 breath. Madame Duval demanded his business. ' Madam,' 
 answered he, ' my master desires his compliments to you, and 
 — and — and he says he wishes it well over with you. He ! 
 he ! he ! ' 
 
 Madame Duval instantly darted forward, and gave him a 
 violent blow on the face. ' Take that back for your answer, 
 sirrah,' cried she, ' and learn to grin at your betters another 
 time. Coachman, drive on!' 
 
 The servant was in a violent passion, and swore terribly ; 
 but we were soon out of hearing. 
 
 The rage of Madame Duval was greater than ever, and she 
 inveighed against the Captain with such fury, that I was even 
 apprehensive she would have returned to his house, purposely 
 to reproach him, which she repeatedly threatened to do ; nor 
 would she, I believe, have hesitated a moment, but that, not- 
 withstanding her violence, he has really made her afraid of 
 him. 
 
 When we came to her lodgings, we found all the Branghtons 
 in the passage, impatiently waiting for us, with the door 
 open. 
 
 ' Only see, here's Miss ! ' cried the brother. 
 
 ' Well, I declare I thought as much '. ' said the younger 
 sister. 
 
 ' Why, Miss,' said Mr. Branghton, ' I think you might as 
 well have come with your cousins at once ; it's throwing money 
 in the dirt to pay two coaches for one fare.' 
 
 ' Lord, father,' cried the son, 'make no words about that ; 
 for I'll pay for the coach that Miss had.' 
 
 ioo
 
 EVELINA 
 
 1 0, J know very well,' answered Mr. Branghton, 'that 
 you're always more ready to spend than to earn.' 
 
 I then interfered, and begged that I might myself be 
 allowed to pay the fare, as the expense was incurred upon my 
 account ; they all said no, and proposed that the same coach 
 should carry us on to the opera. 
 
 While this passed, the Miss Branghtons were examining 
 my dress, which, indeed, was very improper for my company : 
 and as I was extremely unwilling to be so conspicuous amongst 
 them, I requested Madame Duval to borrow a hat or bonnet 
 for me of the people of the house. But she never wears either 
 herself, and thinks them very English and barbarous ; there- 
 fore she insisted that I should go full dressed, as I had pre- 
 pared myself for the pit, though I made many objections. 
 
 We were then all crowded into the same carriage ; but 
 when v.e arrived at the opera-house, I contrived to pay the 
 coachman. They made a great many speeches ; but Mr. 
 Branghton's reflection had determined me not to be indebted 
 to him. 
 
 If I had not been too much chagrined to laugh, I should 
 have been extremely diverted at their ignorance of whatever 
 belongs to an opera. In the first place, they could not tell at 
 what door we ought to enter, and we wandered about for some 
 time, without knowing which way to turn : they did not choose 
 to apply to me, though I was the only person of the party 
 who had ever before been at an opera ; because they were 
 unwilling to suppose that their country cousin, as they were 
 pleased to call me, should be better acquainted with any 
 London public place than themselves. I was very indifferent 
 and careless upon this subject, but not a little uneasy at finding 
 that my dress, so different from that of the company to which 
 I belonged, attracted general notice and observation. 
 
 In a short time, however, we arrived at one of the door- 
 keeper's bars. Mr. Branghton demanded for what part of the 
 house they took money ? They answered, the pit, and re- 
 garded us all with great earnestness. The son then advancing, 
 said, 'Sir, if you please, I beg that I may treat Miss.' 
 
 'We'll settle that another time,' answered Mr. Branghton, 
 and put down a guinea. 
 
 Two tickets of admission were given to him. 
 
 Mr. Branghton, in bib turn, now stared at the door-keeper, 
 
 LIBRARY 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 RIVERSIDE
 
 EVELINA 
 
 and demanded what he meant by giving him only two tickets 
 for a guinea. 
 
 ' Only two, Sir ! : said the man, ' why, don't you know that 
 the tickets are half a guinea each ? ' 
 
 ' Half a guinea each ! ' repeated Mr. Branghton, ' why. I 
 never heard of such a thing in my life ! And pray, Sir, how- 
 many will they admit ? ' 
 
 'Just as usual, Sir, one person each.' 
 
 ' But one person for half a guinea ! — why, I only want to sit 
 in the pit, friend.' 
 
 ' Had not the ladies better sit in the gallery, Sir, for they'll 
 hardly choose to go into the pit with their hats on ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, as to that,' cried Miss Branghton, ' if our hats are too 
 high, we'll take them off when we get in. I sha'n't mind it, 
 for I did my hair on purpose.' 
 
 Another party then approaching, the doorkeeper could no 
 longer attend to Mr. Branghton, who, taking up the guinea, 
 told him it should be long enough before he'd see it again, 
 and walked away. 
 
 The young ladies, in some confusion, expressed their 
 surprise, that their papa should not know the opera prices, 
 which, for their parts, they had read in the papers a thousand 
 times. 
 
 ' The price of stocks,' said he, ' is enough for me to see 
 after ; and I took it for granted it was the same thing here 
 as at the play-house.' 
 
 ' I knew well enough what the price was,' said the son, 
 ' but I would not speak, because I thought perhaps they'd 
 take less, as we're such a large party.' 
 
 The sisters both laughed very contemptuously at this idea, 
 and asked him if he ever heard of peoples abating anything 
 at a public place. 
 
 ' I don't know whether I have or no,' answered he, ' but 
 I'm sure if they would, you'd like it so much the worse' 
 
 ' Very true, Tom,' cried Mr. Branghton; 'tell a woman 
 that anything is reasonable, and she'll be sure to hate it.' 
 
 ' Well,' said Miss Polly, ' I hope that Aunt and Miss will 
 be of our side, for Papa always takes part with Tom.' 
 
 ' Come, come,' cried Madame Duval, ' if you stand talking 
 here, we sha'n't get no place at all.' 
 
 Mr. Branghton then inquired the way to the gallery, and, 
 102 ,
 
 EVELINA 
 
 when we came to the doorkeeper, demanded what was 
 to pay. 
 
 ' The usual price, Sir,' said the man. 
 
 'Then give me change, 5 cried Mr. Branghton, again putting 
 down his guinea. 
 
 ' For how many, Sir ? ' 
 
 ' Why — let's see, — for six.' 
 
 ' For six, Sir ? why, you've given me but a guinea. 
 
 ' But a guinea ! why, how much would you have ? I suppose 
 it i'n't half a guinea a-piece here too? 
 
 ' No, Sir, only five shillings.' 
 
 Mr. Branghton again took up his unfortunate guinea, and 
 protested he would submit to no such imposition. I then 
 proposed that we should return home, but Madame Duval 
 would not consent, and we were conducted, by a woman who 
 sells books of the Opera, to another gallery-door, where, after 
 some disputing, Mr. Branghton at last paid, and we all went 
 upstairs. 
 
 Madame Duval complained very much of the trouble of 
 going so high, but Mr. Branghton desired her not to hold the 
 place too cheap, ' for, whatever you may think,' cried he, ' I 
 assure you I paid pit price ; so don't suppose I come here to 
 save my money.' 
 
 'Well, to be sure,' said Miss Branghton, 'there's no 
 judging of a place by the outside, else, I must needs say, 
 there's nothing very extraordinary in the staircase.' 
 
 But, when we entered the gallery, their amazement and 
 disappointment became general. For a few instants, they 
 looked at one another without speaking, and then they all 
 broke silence at once. 
 
 ' Lord, Papa,' exclaimed Miss Polly, ' why, you have brought 
 us to the one-shilling gallery ! ' 
 
 ' I'll be glad to give you two shillings, though,' answered he, 
 ' to pay. I was never so fooled out of my money before, since 
 the hour of my birth. Either the doorkeeper's a knave, or this 
 is the greatest imposition that ever was put upon the public' 
 
 ' Ma foij cried Madame Duval, ' I never sat in such a 
 mean place in all my life ; — why, it's as high ! — we sha'n't see 
 nothing.' 
 
 ' I thought at the time,' said Mr. Branghton, ' that three 
 shillings was an exorbitant price for a place in the gallery, 
 
 103
 
 EVELINA 
 
 but as we'd been asked so much more at the other doors, 
 why, I paid it without many words ; but then, to be sure, 
 thinks I, it can never be like any other gallery, — we shall see 
 some crinkum-crankum or other for our money ; — but I find 
 it's as arrant a take-in as ever I met with.' 
 
 •Why, it's as like the twelvepenny gallery at Drury Lane,' 
 cried the son, ' as two peas are to one another. I never knew 
 father so bit before.' 
 
 ' Lord,' said Miss Branghton, v I thought it would have 
 been quite a fine place, — all over I don't know what, — and 
 done quite in taste.' 
 
 In this manner they continued to express their dissatisfac- 
 tion till the curtain drew up ; after which, their observations 
 were very curious. They made no allowance for the customs, 
 or even for the language of another country, but formed all 
 their remarks upon comparisons with the English theatre. 
 
 Notwithstanding my vexation at having been forced into 
 a party so very disagreeable, and that, too, from one so 
 much — so very much the contrary — yet, would they have 
 suffered me to listen, I should have forgotten everything 
 unpleasant, and felt nothing but delight in hearing the sweet 
 voice of Signor Millico, the first singer ; but they tormented 
 me with continual talking. 
 
 'What a jabbering they make!' cried Mr. Branghton; 
 ' there's no knowing a word they say. Pray what's the reason 
 they can't as well sing in English ? — but I suppose the fine 
 folks would not like it, if they could understand it.' 
 
 ' How unnatural their action is ! ' said the son ; ' why now, 
 who ever saw an Englishman put himself in such out-of-the- 
 way postures ? ' 
 
 ' For my part,' said Miss Polly, ' I think it's very pretty, 
 only I don't know what it means.' 
 
 ' Lord, what does that signify ? ' cried her sister ; ' mayn't 
 one like a thing without being so very particular ? — You may 
 see that Miss likes it, and I don't suppose she knows more 
 of the matter than we do." 
 
 A gentleman, soon after, was so obliging as to make room 
 in the front row for Miss Branghton and me. We had 
 no sooner seated ourselves, than Miss Branghton exclaimed, 
 'Good gracious! only see! — why, Polly, all the people in 
 the pit are without hats, dressed like anything ! ' 
 
 104
 
 EVELINA 
 
 'Lord, so they are,' cried Miss Polly; 'well, I never 
 saw the like ! — it's worth coming to the opera if one saw 
 nothing else.' 
 
 I was then able to distinguish the happy party I had left ; 
 and I saw that Lord Orville had seated himself next to Mrs. 
 Mirvan. Sir Clement had his eyes perpetually cast towards 
 the five-shilling gallery, where I suppose he concluded that 
 we were seated ; however, before the opera was over, I have 
 reason to believe that he had discovered me, high and distant 
 as I was from him. Probably he distinguished me by my 
 headdress. 
 
 At the end of the first act, as the green curtain dropped, 
 to prepare for the dance, they imagined that the opera was 
 done, and Mr. Branghton expressed great indignation that 
 he had been tricked out of his money with so little trouble. 
 ' Now if any Englishman was to do such an impudent thing 
 as this,' said he, 'why he'd be pelted; — but here, one of 
 these outlandish gentry may do just what he pleases, and 
 come on, and squeak out a song or two, and then pocket 
 your money without further ceremony.' 
 
 However, so determined he was to be dissatisfied, that 
 before the conclusion of the third act, he found still more 
 fault with the opera for being too long - , and wondered whether 
 they thought their singing good enough to serve us for supper. 
 
 During the symphony of a song of Signor Millico's, in the 
 second act, young Mr. Branghton said, ' It's my belief that 
 that fellow's going to sing another song ! — why there's nothing 
 but singing ! — I wonder when they'll speak.' 
 
 This song, which was slow and pathetic, caught all my 
 attention, and I lean'd my head forward to avoid hearing their 
 observations, that I might listen without interruption ; but, 
 upon turning round, when the song was over, I found that I 
 was the object of general diversion to the whole party ; for 
 the Miss Branghton s were tittering, and the two gentlemen 
 making signs and faces at me, implying their contempt of my 
 affectation. 
 
 This discovery determined me to appear as inattentive as 
 themselves ; but I was very much provoked at being thus 
 prevented enjoying the only pleasure, which, in such a party, 
 was within my power. 
 
 'So, Miss,' said Mr. Branghton, 'you're quite in the fashion, 
 
 !°5
 
 EVELINA 
 
 I see ; — so you like operas ? well, I'm not so polite ; I can't 
 like nonsense, let it be never so much the taste.' 
 
 ' But pray, Miss,' said the son, ' what makes that fellow look 
 so doleful while he's singing ? ' 
 
 ' Probably because the character he performs is in distress.' 
 
 ' Why then I think he might as well let alone singing till 
 he's in better cue ; it's out of all nature for a man to be piping 
 when he's in distress. For my part, I never sing but when 
 I'm merry ; yet I love a song as well as most people.' 
 
 When the curtain dropped, they all rejoiced. 
 
 ' How do you like it ? — and how do you like it ?' — passed 
 from one to another with looks of the utmost contempt. 'As 
 for me,' said Mr. Branghton, : they've caught me once, but if 
 ever they do again, I'll give 'em leave to sing me to Bedlam 
 for my pains : for such a heap of stuff never did I hear ; 
 there isn't one ounce of sense in the whole opera, nothing 
 but one continued squeaking and squalling from beginning to 
 end.' 
 
 ' If I had been in the pit,' said Madame Duval, ' I should 
 have liked it vastly, for music is my passion ; but sitting in 
 such a place as this, is quite unbearable.' 
 
 Miss Branghton, looking at me, declared that she was not 
 genteel enough to admire it. 
 
 Miss Polly confessed, that, if they would but sing English, 
 she should like it very well. 
 
 The brother wished he could raise a riot in the house, 
 because then he might get his money again. 
 
 And, finally, they all agreed, that it was monstrous dear. 
 
 During the last dance, I perceived, standing near the gallery- 
 door, Sir Clement Willoughby. I was extremely vexed, and 
 would have given the world to have avoided being seen by 
 him : my chief objection was, from the apprehension that he 
 would hear Miss Branghton call me cousin. — I fear you will 
 think this London journey has made me grow very proud, but 
 indeed this family is so low-bred and vulgar, that I should be 
 equally ashamed of such a connection in the country, or any- 
 where. And really I had already been so much chagrined 
 that Sir Clement had been a witness of Madame Duval's power 
 over me, that I could not bear to be exposed to any further 
 mortification. 
 
 As the seats cleared, by parties going away, Sir Clement 
 106
 
 EVELINA 
 
 approached nearer to us ; the Miss Branghtons observed, with 
 surprise, what a fine gentleman was come into the gallery, 
 and they gave me great reason to expect that they would 
 endeavour to attract his notice, by familiarity with me, whenever 
 he should join us ; and so I formed a sort of plan to prevent 
 any conversation. I am afraid you will think it wrong ; and 
 so I do myself now, — but, at the time, I only considered how 
 I might avoid immediate humiliation. 
 
 As soon as he was within two seats of us, he spoke to me : 
 ' I am very happy, Miss Anville, to have found you, for the 
 ladies below have each a humble attendant, and therefore I 
 am come to offer my services here.' 
 
 'Why then,' cried I (not without hesitating), ' if you please, 
 — I will join them.' 
 
 ' Will you allow me the honour of conducting you ? ' cried 
 he eagerly ; and, instantly taking my hand, he would have 
 marched away with me : but I turned to Madame Duval, and 
 said, ' As our party is so large, Madam, if you will give me 
 leave, I will go down to Mrs. Mirvan, that I may not crowd 
 you in the coach.' 
 
 And then, without waiting for an answer, I suffered Sir 
 Clement to hand me out of the gallery. 
 
 Madame Duval, I doubt not, will be very angry, and so I 
 am with myself, now, and therefore I cannot be surprised : but 
 Mr. Branghton, I am sure, will easily comfort himself, in 
 having escaped the additional coach expense of carrying me 
 to Queen Ann Street : as to his daughters, they had no time 
 to speak, but I saw they were in utter amazement. 
 
 My intention was to join Mrs. Mirvan, and accompany her 
 home. Sir Clement was in high spirits and good-humour; 
 and, all the way we went, I was fool enough to rejoice in secret 
 at the success of my plan ; nor was it till I got downstairs, 
 and amidst the servants, that any difficulty occurred to me of 
 meeting with my friends. 
 
 I then asked Sir Clement how I should contrive to acquaint 
 Mrs. Mirvan that I had left Madame Duval ? 
 
 ' I fear it will be almost impossible to find her,' answered he ; 
 ' but you can have no objection to permitting me to see you 
 safe home.' 
 
 He then desired his servant, who was waiting, to order his 
 chariot to draw up. 
 
 107
 
 EVELINA 
 
 This quite startled me ; I turned to him hastily, and said 
 that I could not think of going away without Mrs. Mirvan. 
 
 ' But how can we meet with her ? ' cried he ; ' you will not 
 choose to go into the pit yourself; I cannot send a servant 
 there ; and it is impossible for me to go and leave you alone.' 
 
 The truth of this was indisputable, and totally silenced me. 
 Yet, as soon as I could recollect myself, I determined not to 
 go in his chariot, and told him I believed I had best return to 
 my party upstairs. 
 
 He would not hear of this ; and earnestly entreated me not 
 to withdraw the trust I had reposed in him. 
 
 While he was speaking, I saw Lord Orville, with several ladies 
 and gentlemen, coming from the pit passage : unfortunately, he 
 saw me too, and, leaving his company, advanced instantly to- 
 wards me, and, with an air and voice of surprise, said, ' Good 
 God, do I see Miss Anville ! ' 
 
 I now most severely felt the folly of my plan, and the 
 awkwardness of my situation ; however, I hastened to tell him, 
 though in a hesitating manner, that I was waiting for Mrs. 
 Mirvan : but what was my disappointment, when he acquainted 
 me that she was already gone home ! 
 
 I was inexpressibly distressed ; to suffer Lord Orville to 
 think me satisfied with the single protection of Sir Clement 
 Willoughby, I could not bear ; yet I was more than ever averse 
 to returning to a party which I dreaded his seeing : I stood 
 some moments in suspense, and could not help exclaiming, 
 ' Good Heaven, what can I do ! ' 
 
 ' Why, my dear Madam,' cried Sir Clement, ' should you 
 be thus uneasy ? — you will reach Queen Ann Street almost as 
 soon as Mrs. Mirvan, and I am sure you cannot doubt being 
 as safe.' 
 
 I made no answer, and Lord Orville then said, ' My coach 
 is here ; and my servants are ready to take any commands 
 Miss Anville will honour me with for them. I shall myself go 
 home in a chair, and therefore ' 
 
 How grateful did I feel for a proposal so considerate, and 
 made with so much delicacy ! I should gladly have accepted 
 it, had I been permitted, but Sir Clement would not let him 
 even finish his speech ; he interrupted him with evident dis- 
 pleasure, and said, ' My Lord, my own chariot is now at the 
 door.' 
 
 1 08
 
 EVELINA 
 
 And just then the servant came, and told him the carriage 
 was ready. He begged to have the honour of conducting me 
 to it, and would have taken my hand, but 1 drew it back, 
 saying, ' I can't — I can't indeed ! pray go by yourself — and as 
 to me, let me have a chair.' 
 
 ' Impossible ! ' (cried he with vehemence) ; ' I cannot think 
 of trusting you with strange chairmen, — I cannot answer it to 
 Mrs. Mirvan ; — come, dear Madam, we shall be home in five 
 minutes.' 
 
 Again I stood suspended. With what joy would I then 
 have compromised with my pride, to have been once more 
 with Madame Duval and the Branghtons, provided I had not 
 met with Lord Orville ! However, I flatter myself that he not 
 only saw, but pitied my embarrassment, for he said, in a tone 
 of voice unusually softened, ' To offer my services in the pre- 
 sence of Sir Clement Willoughby would be superfluous ; but I 
 hope I need not assure Miss Anville how happy it would 
 make me to be of the least use to her.' 
 
 I curtsied my thanks. Sir Clement, with great earnest- 
 ness pressed me to go ; and while I was thus uneasily 
 deliberating what to do, the dance, I suppose, finished, for the 
 people crowded downstairs. Had Lord Orville then repeated 
 his offer, I would have accepted it, notwithstanding Sir 
 Clements repugnance ; but I fancy he thought it would be 
 impertinent. In a very few minutes I heard Madame Duval's 
 voice, as she descended from the gallery. 'Well,' cried I, hastily, 
 
 ' if I must go ' I stopped, but Sir Clement immediately 
 
 handed me into his chariot, called out ' Queen Ann Street,' 
 and then jumped in himself. Lord Orville, with a bow and a 
 half smile, wished me good night. 
 
 My concern was so great, at being seen and left by Lord 
 Orville in so strange a situation, that I should have been best 
 pleased to have remained wholly silent during our ride home : 
 but Sir Clement took care to prevent that. 
 
 He began by making many complaints of my unwillingness 
 to trust myself with him, and begged to know what could be 
 the reason ? This question so much embarrassed me, that I 
 could not tell what to answer, but only said, that I was sorry 
 to have taken up so much of his time. 
 
 'O Miss Anville' (cried he, taking my hand), ' if you knew 
 with what transport I would dedicate to you not only the 
 
 109
 
 Again I stood suspended.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 present but all the future time allotted to me, you would not 
 injure me by making such an apology.'" 
 
 I could not think of a word to say to this, nor to a great 
 many other equally fine speeches with which he ran on, though 
 I would fain have withdrawn my hand, and made almost con- 
 tinual attempts ; but in vain, for he actually grasped it between 
 both his, without any regard to my resistance. 
 
 Soon after, he said that he believed the coachman was 
 going the wrong way, and he called to his servant, and gave 
 him directions. Then again addressing himself to me, ' How 
 often, how assiduously have I sought an opportunity of speaking 
 to you, without the presence of that brute, Captain Mirvan ! 
 Fortune has now kindly favoured me with one, and permit me ' 
 (again seizing my hand), ' permit me to use it, in telling you 
 that I adore you.' 
 
 I was quite thunderstruck at this abrupt and unexpected 
 declaration. For some moments I was silent ; but when I 
 recovered from my surprise, I said, ' Indeed, Sir, if you were 
 determined to make me repent leaving my own party so 
 foolishly, you have very well succeeded.' 
 
 'My dearest life,' cried he, 'is it possible you can be so 
 cruel ? Can your nature and your countenance be so totally 
 opposite ? Can the sweet bloom upon those charming cheeks, 
 which appears as much the result of good -humour as of 
 beauty ' 
 
 ' O, Sir,' cried I, interrupting him, 'this is very fine ; but I 
 had hoped we had had enough of this sort of conversation 
 at the Ridotto, and I did not expect you would so soon 
 resume it.' 
 
 ' What I then said, my sweet reproacher, was the effect of 
 a mistaken, a profane idea, that your understanding held no 
 competition with your beauty ; but now, now that I find you 
 equally incomparable in both, all words, all powers of speech, 
 are too feeble to express the admiration I feel of your excel- 
 lences.' 
 
 ' Indeed,' cried I, ' if your thoughts had any connection 
 with your language, you would never suppose that I could give 
 credit to praise so very much above my desert.' 
 
 This speech, which I made very gravely, occasioned still 
 stronger protestations, which he continued to pour forth, and I 
 continued to disclaim, till I began to wonder that we were not 
 
 I 1 1
 
 EVELINA 
 
 in Queen Ann Street, and begged he would desire the coach- 
 man to drive faster. 
 
 ' And does this little moment,' cried he, ' which is the first 
 of happiness I have ever known, does it already appear so 
 very long to you ? ' 
 
 ' I am afraid the man has mistaken the way,' answered I, 
 ' or else we should ere now have been at our journey's end. I 
 must beg you will speak to him.' 
 
 'And can you think me so much my own enemy? — if my 
 good genius has inspired the man with a desire of prolonging 
 my happiness, can you expect that I should counteract its 
 indulgence ? ' 
 
 I now began to apprehend that he had himself ordered the 
 man to go a wrong way, and I was so much alarmed at the 
 idea, that, the very instant it occurred to me, I let down the 
 glass, and made a sudden effort to open the chariot-door myself, 
 with a view of jumping into the street ; but he caught hold of 
 me, exclaiming, ' For Heaven's sake, what is the matter?' 
 
 ' I — I don't know,' cried I (quite out of breath), ' but I am 
 sure the man goes wrong, and, if you will not speak to him, I 
 am determined I will get out myself.' 
 
 ' You amaze me,' answered he (still holding me). ' I cannot 
 imagine what you apprehend. Surely you can have no doubts 
 of my honour ? ' 
 
 He drew me towards him as he spoke. I was frightened 
 dreadfully, and could hardly say, ' No, Sir, no, — none at all, — 
 only Mrs. Mirvan, — I think she will be uneasy.' 
 
 ' Whence this alarm, my dearest angel ? — What can you 
 fear ? — my life is at your devotion, and can you, then, doubt 
 my protection ? ' 
 
 And so saying he passionately kissed my hand. 
 
 Never, in my whole life, have I been so terrified. I broke 
 forcibly from him, and, putting my head out of the window, 
 called aloud to the man to stop. Where we then were I 
 know not, but I saw not a human being, or I should have 
 called for help. 
 
 Sir Clement, with great earnestness, endeavoured to appease 
 and compose me. ' If you do not intend to murder me,' cried 
 I, ' for mercy's, for pity's sake, let me get out ! ' 
 
 'Compose your spirits, my dearest life,' cried he, 'and I 
 will do everything you would have me.' And then he called 
 
 i 12
 
 1 For Heaven's mke, what is the matti > '<
 
 EVELINA 
 
 to the man himself, and bade him make haste to Queen Ann 
 Street. ' This stupid fellow,' continued he, ' has certainly 
 mistaken my orders ; but I hope you are now fully satisfied.' 
 
 I made no answer, but kept my head at the window, 
 watching which way he drove, but without any comfort to 
 myself, as I was quite unacquainted with either the right or 
 the wrong. 
 
 Sir Clement now poured forth abundant protestations of 
 honour, and assurances of respect, entreating my pardon for 
 having offended me, and beseeching my good opinion : but I 
 was quite silent, having too much apprehension to make 
 reproaches, and too much anger to speak without. 
 
 In this manner we went through several streets, till at last, 
 to my great terror, he suddenly ordered the man to stop, and 
 said, ' Miss Anville, we are now within twenty yards of your 
 house ; but I cannot bear to part with you, till you generously 
 forgive me for the offence you have taken, and promise not to 
 make it known to the Mirvans.' 
 
 I hesitated between fear and indignation. 
 
 1 Your reluctance to speak redoubles my contrition for 
 having displeased you, since it shows the reliance I might have 
 on a promise which you will not give without consideration.' 
 
 ' I am very, very much distressed,' cried I ; ' you ask a 
 promise which you must be sensible I ought not to grant, and 
 yet dare not refuse.' 
 
 ' Drive on ! ' cried he to the coachman ; — ' Miss Anville, I 
 will not compel you ; I will exact no promise, but trust wholly 
 to your generosity.' 
 
 This rather softened me ; which advantage he no sooner 
 perceived, than he determined to avail himself of, for he flung 
 himself on his knees, and pleaded with so much submission, 
 that I was really obliged to forgive him, because his humiliation 
 made me quite ashamed ; and, after that, he would not let me 
 rest till I gave him my word that I would not complain of him 
 to Mrs. Mirvan. 
 
 My own folly and pride, which had put me in his power, 
 were pleas which I could not but attend to in his favour. 
 However, I shall take very particular care never to be again 
 alone with him. 
 
 When, at last, we arrived at our house, I was so overjoyed, 
 that I should certainly have pardoned him then, if I had not 
 
 114
 
 EVELINA 
 
 before. As he handed me upstairs, he scolded his servant 
 aloud, and very angrily, for having gone so much out of the 
 way. Miss Mirvan ran out to meet me, — and who should I 
 see behind her, but — Lord Orville ! 
 
 All my joy now vanished, and gave place to shame and 
 confusion ; for I could not endure that he should know how 
 long a time Sir Clement and I had been together, since I was 
 not at liberty to assign any reason for it. 
 
 They all expressed great satisfaction at seeing me, and said 
 they had been extremely uneasy and surprised that I was so 
 long coming home, as they had heard from Lord Orville that 
 I was not with Madame Duval. Sir Clement, in an affected 
 passion, said that his booby of a servant had misunderstood 
 his orders, and was driving us to the upper end of Piccadilly. 
 For my part, I only coloured ; for though I would not forfeit 
 my word, I yet disdained to confirm a tale in which I had 
 myself no belief. 
 
 Lord Orville, with great politeness, congratulated me that 
 the troubles of the evening had so happily ended, and said 
 that he had found it impossible to return home before he 
 inquired after my safety. 
 
 In a very short time he took leave, and Sir Clement 
 followed him. As soon as they were gone, Mrs. Mirvan, 
 though with great softness, blamed me for having emitted 
 Madame Duval. I assured her, and with truth, that for the 
 future I would be more prudent. 
 
 The adventures of the evening so much disconcerted me, 
 that I could not sleep all night. I am under the most cruel 
 apprehensions, lest Lord Orville should suppose my being on 
 the gallery stairs with Sir Clement was a concerted scheme, 
 and even that our continuing so long together in his chariot 
 was with my approbation, since I did not say a word on the 
 subject, nor express any dissatisfaction at the coachman's 
 pretended blunder. 
 
 Yet his coming hither to wait our arrival, though it seems 
 to imply some doubt, shows also some anxiety. Indeed, Miss 
 Mirvan says that he appeared extremely anxious, nay uneasy 
 and impatient, for my return. If I did not fear to flatter 
 myself, I should think it not impossible but that he had a 
 suspicion of Sir Clement's design, and was therefore concerned 
 for my safety. 
 
 IJ 5
 
 EVELINA 
 
 What a long letter is this ! however, I shall not write many 
 more from London, for the Captain said this morning that he 
 would leave town on Tuesday next. Madame Duval will dine 
 here to-day, and then she is to be told his intention. 
 
 I am very much amazed that she accepted Mrs. Mirvan's 
 invitation, as she was in such wrath yesterday. I fear that 
 to-day I shall myself be the principal object of her displeasure ; 
 but I must submit patiently, for I cannot defend myself. 
 
 Adieu, my dearest Sir. Should this letter be productive of 
 any uneasiness to you, more than ever shall I repent the 
 heedless imprudence which it recites. 
 
 LETTER XXII 
 
 EVELINA IN CONTINUATION 
 
 Monday Mornings April 18. 
 
 Mrs. Mirvan has just communicated to me an anecdote 
 concerning Lord Orville, which has much surprised, half 
 pleased, and half pained me. 
 
 While they were sitting together during the opera, he told 
 her that he had been greatly concerned at the impertinence 
 which the young lady under her protection had suffered from 
 Mr. Lovel ; but that he had the pleasure of assuring her, she 
 had no future disturbance to apprehend from him. 
 
 Mrs. Mirvan, with great eagerness, begged he would explain 
 himself, and said she hoped he had not thought so insignificant 
 an affair worthy his serious attention. 
 
 'There is nothing,' answered he, 'which requires more 
 immediate notice than impertinence, for it ever encroaches 
 when it is tolerated.' He then added, that he believed he 
 ought to apologise for the liberty he had taken of interfering, 
 but that, as he regarded himself in the light of a party 
 concerned, from having had the honour of dancing with Miss 
 Anville, he could not possibly reconcile to himself a patient 
 neutrality. 
 
 He then proceeded to tell her, that he had waited upon Mr. 
 Lovel the morning after the play ; that the visit had proved 
 an amicable one, but the particulars were neither entertaining 
 
 116
 
 EVELINA 
 
 nor necessary ; he only assured her, Miss Anville might be 
 perfectly easy, since Mr. Lovel had engaged his honour never 
 more to mention, or even to hint at, what had passed at Mrs. 
 Stanley's assembly. 
 
 Mrs. Mirvan expressed her satisfaction at this conclusion, 
 and thanked him for his polite attention to her young friend. 
 
 ' It would be needless,' said he, 'to request that this affair 
 may never transpire, since Mrs. Mirvan cannot but see the 
 necessity of keeping it inviolably secret ; but I thought it 
 incumbent upon me, as the young lady is under your protec- 
 tion, to assure both you and her of Mr. Lovel's future respect.' 
 
 Had I known of this visit previous to Lord Orville's making 
 it, what dreadful uneasiness would it have cost me ! Yet that 
 he should so much interest himself in securing me from offence, 
 gives me, I must own, an internal pleasure, greater than I can 
 express ; for I feared he had too contemptuous an opinion of 
 me, to take any trouble upon my account. Though, after all, 
 this interference might rather be to satisfy his own delicacy, 
 than from thinking well of me. 
 
 But how cool, how quiet is true courage ! Who, from 
 seeing Lord Orville at the play, would have imagined his 
 resentment would have hazarded his life ? yet his displeasure 
 was evident, though his real bravery and his politeness equally 
 guarded him from entering into any discussion in our presence. 
 
 Madame Duval, as I expected, was most terribly angry 
 yesterday ; she scolded me for I believe two hours, on account 
 of having left her, and protested she had been so much 
 surprised at my going, without giving her time to answer, that 
 she hardly knew whether she was awake or asleep. But she 
 assured me, that if ever I did so again, she would never more 
 take me into public. And she expressed an equal degree of 
 displeasure against Sir Clement, because he had not even 
 spoken to her, and because he was always of the Captain's 
 side in an argument. The Captain, as bound in honour, 
 warmly defended him, and then followed a dispute in the 
 usual style. 
 
 After dinner, Mrs. Mirvan introduced the subject of our 
 leaving London. Madame Duval said she should stay a 
 month or two longer. The Captain told her she was welcome, 
 but that he and his family should go into the country on 
 Tuesday morning. 
 
 "7
 
 EVELINA 
 
 A most disagreeable scene followed ; Madame Duval 
 insisted upon keeping me with her ; but Mrs. Mirvan said, 
 that as I was actually engaged on a visit to Lady Howard, 
 who had only consented to my leaving her for a few days, she 
 could not think of returning without me. 
 
 Perhaps if the Captain had not interfered, the good-breeding 
 and mildness of Mrs. Mirvan might have had some effect upon 
 Madame Duval ; but he passes no opportunity of provoking 
 her, and therefore made so many gross and rude speeches, 
 all of which she retorted, that, in conclusion, she vowed she 
 would sooner go to law, in right of her relationship, than that 
 I should be taken away from her. 
 
 I heard this account from Mrs. Mirvan, who was so kindly 
 considerate as to give me a pretence for quitting the room, as 
 soon as this dispute began, lest Madame Duval should refer 
 to me, and insist on my obedience. 
 
 The final result of the conversation was, that, to soften 
 matters for the present, Madame Duval should make one in 
 the party for Howard Grove, whither we are positively to go 
 next Wednesday. And though we are none of us satisfied 
 with this plan, we know not how to form a better. 
 
 Mrs. Mirvan is now writing to Lady Howard, to excuse 
 bringing this unexpected guest, and to prevent the disagree- 
 able surprise, which must, otherwise, attend her reception. 
 This dear lady seems eternally studying my happiness and 
 advantage. 
 
 To-night we go to the Pantheon, which is the last diversion 
 we shall partake of in London, for to-morrow 
 
 This moment, my dearest Sir, I have received your kind 
 letter. 
 
 If you thought us too dissipated the first week, I almost 
 fear to know what you will think of us this second ; — however, 
 the Pantheon this evening will probably be the last public 
 place which I shall ever see. 
 
 The assurance of your support and protection in regard to 
 Madame Duval, though what I never doubted, excites my 
 utmost gratitude : how, indeed, cherished under your roof, the 
 happy object of your constant indulgence, how could I have 
 borne to become the slave of her tyrannical humours ? — pardon 
 me that I speak so hardly of her ; but, whenever the idea of 
 
 118
 
 EVELINA 
 
 passing my days with her occurs to me, the comparison which 
 naturally follows, takes from me all that forbearance, which, I 
 believe, I owe her. 
 
 You are already displeased with Sir Clement : to be sure, 
 then, his behaviour after the opera will not make his peace 
 with you. Indeed, the more I reflect upon it, the more angry 
 I am. I was entirely in his power, and it was cruel in him to 
 cause me so much terror. 
 
 my dearest Sir, were I but worthy the prayers and the 
 wishes you offer for me, the utmost ambition of my heart 
 would be fully satisfied ! but I greatly fear you will find me, 
 now that I am out of the reach of your assisting prudence, 
 more weak and imperfect than you could have expected. 
 
 1 have not now time to write another word, for I must 
 immediately hasten to dress for the evening. 
 
 LETTER XXIII 
 
 EVELINA IX CONTINUATION 
 
 Queen Ann Street, Tuesday, April 19. 
 
 There is something to me half melancholy in writing an 
 account of our last adventures in London ; however, as this 
 day is merely appropriated to packing and preparations for 
 our journey, and as I shall shortly have no more adventures 
 to write, I think I may as well complete my town journal at 
 once. And, when you have it all together, I hope, my dear 
 Sir, you will send me your observations and thoughts upon it 
 to Howard Grove. 
 
 About eight o'clock we went to the Pantheon. I was 
 extremely struck with the beauty of the building, which greatly 
 surpassed whatever I could have expected or imagined. Yet, 
 it has more the appearance of a chapel than of a place of 
 diversion ; and, though I was quite charmed with the mag- 
 nificence of the room, I felt that I could not be as gay and 
 thoughtless there as at Ranelagh, for there is something in it 
 which rather inspires awe and solemnity than mirth and 
 pleasure. However, perhaps it may only have this effect 
 upon such a novice as myself. 
 
 119
 
 EVELINA 
 
 I should have said, that our party consisted only of Captain, 
 Mrs. and Miss Mirvan, as Madame Duval spent the day in 
 the city — which I own I could not lament. 
 
 There was a great deal of company ; but the first person 
 we saw was Sir Clement Willoughby. He addressed us with 
 his usual ease, and joined us for the whole evening. I felt 
 myself very uneasy in his presence, for T could not look at 
 him, nor hear him speak, without recollecting the chariot 
 adventure ; but to my great amazement, I observed that he 
 looked at me without the least apparent discomposure, though 
 certainly he ought not to think of his behaviour without blush-' 
 ing. I really wish I had not forgiven him, and then he could 
 not have ventured to speak to me any more. 
 
 There was an exceeding good concert, but too much talking 
 to hear it well. Indeed, I am quite astonished to find how- 
 little music is attended to in silence ; for though everybody 
 seems to admire, hardly anybody listens. 
 
 We did not see Lord Orville till we went into the tea-room, 
 which is large, low, and under ground, and serves merely as 
 a foil to the apartments above ; he then sat next to us. He 
 seemed to belong to a large party, chiefly of ladies ; but, 
 among the gentlemen attending them, I perceived Mr. Lovel. 
 
 I was extremely irresolute whether or not I ought to make 
 any acknowledgments to Lord Orville for his generous conduct 
 in securing me from the future impertinence of that man ; and 
 I thought, that as he had seemed to allow Mrs. Mirvan to ac- 
 quaint me, though no one else, of the measures which he had 
 taken, he might, perhaps, suppose me ungrateful if silent : 
 however, I might have spared myself the trouble of deliberating, 
 as I never once had the shadow of an opportunity of speaking 
 unheard by Sir Clement. On the contrary, he was so ex- 
 ceedingly officious and forward, that I could not say a word to 
 anybody but instantly he bent his head forward, with an air 
 of profound attention, as if I had addressed myself wholly to 
 him : and yet I never once looked at him, and would not have 
 spoken to him on any account. 
 
 Indeed, Mrs. Mirvan herself, though unacquainted with the 
 behaviour of Sir Clement after the opera, says it is not right 
 for a young woman to be seen so frequently in public with the 
 same gentleman ; and, if our stay in town was to be lengthened, 
 she would endeavour to represent to the Captain the im- 
 
 120
 
 w 
 
 .is /// had addressed myself -wholly to him.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 propriety of allowing his constant attendance ; for Sir Clement, 
 with all his easiness, could not be so eternally of our parties if 
 the Captain was less fond of his company. 
 
 At the same table with Lord Orville, sat a gentleman, — I 
 call him so only because he ix.<as at the same table, — who, 
 almost from the moment I was seated, fixed his eyes steadfastly 
 on my face, and never once removed them to any other object 
 during tea-time, notwithstanding my dislike of his staring 
 must, I am sure, have been very evident. I was quite sur- 
 prised, that a man whose boldness was so offensive could 
 have gained admission into a party of which Lord Orville 
 made one ; for I naturally concluded him to be some low-bred 
 and uneducated man ; and I thought my idea was indubitably 
 confirmed, when I heard him say to Sir Clement Willoughby, 
 in an audible whisper, — which is a mode of speech very 
 distressing and disagreeable to by-standers, — ' For Heaven's 
 sake, Willoughby, who is that lovely creature?' 
 
 But what was my amazement, when, listening attentively 
 for the answer, though my head was turned another way, I 
 heard Sir Clement say, ' I am sorry I cannot inform your 
 Lordship, but I am ignorant myself.' 
 
 Lordship! — howextraordinary ! that a nobleman, accustomed, 
 in all probability, to the first rank of company in the kingdom 
 from his earliest infancy, can possibly be deficient in good 
 manners, however faulty in morals and principles ! Even Sir 
 Clement Willoughby appeared modest in comparison with this 
 person. 
 
 During tea, a conversation was commenced upon the times, 
 fashions, and public places, in which the company of both 
 tables joined. It began by Sir Clement's inquiring of Miss 
 Mirvan, and of me, if the Pantheon had answered our ex- 
 pectations. 
 
 We both readily agreed that it had greatly exceeded them. 
 
 ' Aye, to be sure,' said the Captain, ' why, you don*t suppose 
 they'd confess they didn't like it, do you ? Whatever's the 
 fashion, they must like of course ; — or else I'd be bound for it 
 they'd own, that there never was such a dull place as this here 
 invented.' 
 
 'And has, then, this building,' said Lord Orville, 'no merit 
 that may serve to lessen your censure ? Will not your eye, 
 Sir, speak something in its favour?' 
 
 I 22
 
 EVELINA 
 
 'Eye!' cried the Lord (I don't know his name), 'and is 
 there any eye here, that can find pleasure in looking at dead 
 walls or statues, when such heavenly living objects as I now 
 see demand all their admiration ? ' 
 
 ' O, certainly,' said Lord Orville, ' the lifeless symmetry of 
 architecture, however beautiful the design and proportion, no 
 man would be so mad as to put in competition with the animated 
 charms of nature : but when, as to-night, the eye may be 
 regaled at the same time, and in one view, with all the 
 excellence of art, and all the perfection of nature, I cannot 
 think that either suffer by being seen together.' 
 
 ' I grant, my Lord,' said Sir Clement, ' that the cool eye of 
 unimpassioned philosophy may view both with equal attention 
 and equal safety ; but, where the heart is not so well guarded, 
 it is apt to interfere, and render, even to the eye, all objects 
 but one insipid and uninteresting.' 
 
 'Aye, aye,' cried the Captain, 'you may talk what you will 
 of your eye here, and your eye there, and, for the matter of 
 that, to be sure you have two, — but we all know they both 
 squint one way.' 
 
 ' Far be it from me,' said Lord Orville, ' to dispute the 
 magnetic power of beauty, which irresistibly draws and attracts 
 whatever has soul and sympathy : and I am happy to ac- 
 knowledge, that though we have now no gods to occupy a 
 mansion professedly built for them, yet we have secured their 
 better halves, for we have goddesses to whom we all most 
 willingly bow down.' And then, with a very droll air, he 
 made a profound reverence to the ladies. 
 
 ' They'd need be goddesses with a vengeance,' said the 
 Captain, 'for they're mortal dear to look at. Howsomever, I 
 should be glad to know what you can see in e'er a face among 
 them that's worth half a guinea for a sight.' 
 
 ' Half a guinea ! ' exclaimed that same Lord, ' I would give 
 half I am worth for a sight of only one, provided I make my 
 own choice. And, prithee, how can money be better employed 
 than in the service of fine women ? ' 
 
 ' If the ladies of his own party can pardon the Captain's 
 speech,' said Sir Clement, ' I think he has a fair claim to the 
 forgiveness of all.' 
 
 'Then you depend very much, as I doubt not but you may, 1 
 said Lord Orville, ' upon the general sweetness of the sex : — 
 
 123
 
 EVELINA 
 
 but, as to the ladies of the Captain's party, they may easily 
 pardon, for they cannot be hurt.' 
 
 ' But they must have a devilish good conceit of themselves, 
 though,' said the Captain, ' to believe all that. Howsomever, 
 whether or no, I should be glad to be told, by some of you, 
 who seem to be knowing in them things, what kind of diver- 
 sion can be found in such a place as this here, for one who 
 has had, long ago, his full of face-hunting ? ' 
 
 Everybody laughed, but nobody spoke. 
 
 ' Why, look you there, now,' continued the Captain, ' you're 
 all at a dead stand ! — not a man among you can answer that 
 there question. Why, then, I must make bold to conclude, 
 that you all come here for no manner of purpose but to stare 
 at one another's pretty faces : — though, for the matter of that, 
 half of 'em are plaguy ugly, — and, as to t'other half, — I believe 
 it's none of God's manufactory.' 
 
 ' What the ladies may come hither for, Sir,' said Mr. 
 Lovel (stroking his ruffles, and looking down), ' it would ill 
 become us to determine ; but as to we men, doubtless we can 
 have no other view, than to admire them.' 
 
 ' If I ben't mistaken,' cried the Captain (looking earnestly 
 in his face), ' you are that same person we saw at Love for 
 Love t'other night, ben't you ? ' 
 
 Mr. Lovel bowed. 
 
 ' Why then, Gentlemen,' continued he, with a loud laugh, ' I 
 must tell you a most excellent good joke ; — when all was over, as 
 sure as you're alive, he asked what the play was ! Ha, ha, ha ! ' 
 
 ' Sir,' said Mr. Lovel, colouring, ' if you were as much used 
 to a town life as I am, — which, I presume, is not precisely the 
 case, — I fancy you would not find so much diversion from a 
 circumstance so common.' 
 
 'Common! what, is it common?' repeated the Captain: 
 ' why then, 'fore George, such chaps are more fit to be sent to 
 school, and well disciplined with a cat-o'-nine-tails, than to 
 poke their heads into a playhouse. Why, a play is the only 
 thing left, nowadays, that has a grain of sense in it ; for as to 
 all the rest of your public places, d'ye see, if they were all put 
 together, I wouldn't give that for 'em ! ' snapping his fingers. 
 ' And now we're talking of them sort of things, there's your 
 operas, — I should like to know, now, what any of you can find 
 to say for them.' 
 
 124
 
 EVELINA 
 
 Lord Orville, who was most able to have answered, seemed 
 by no means to think the Captain worthy an argument, upon 
 a subject concerning which he had neither knowledge not- 
 feeling : but, turning to us, he said, ' The ladies are silent, 
 and we seem to have engrossed the conversation to ourselves, 
 in which we are much more our own enemies than theirs. 
 But,' addressing himself to Miss Mirvan and me, ' I am most 
 desirous to hear the opinions of these young ladies, to whom 
 all public places must, as yet, be new.' 
 
 We both, and with eagerness, declared that we had received 
 as much, if not more pleasure, at the opera than anywhere : 
 but we had better have been silent ; for the Captain, quite dis- 
 pleased, said, ' What signifies asking them girls ? Do you 
 think they know their own minds yet ? Ask 'em after any- 
 thing that's called diversion, and you're sure they'll say it's 
 vastly fine ; — they are a set of parrots, and speak by rote, for 
 they all say the same thing : but ask 'em how they like making 
 puddings and pies, and I'll warrant you'll pose 'em. As to 
 them operas, I desire I may hear no more of their liking such 
 nonsense ; and for you, Moll,' to his daughter, ' I charge you, 
 as you value my favour, that you'll never again be so im- 
 pertinent as to have a taste of your own before my face. 
 There are fools enough in the world, without your adding to 
 their number. I'll have no daughter of mine affect them sort 
 of megrims. It is a shame they a'n't put down ; and if I'd 
 my will, there's not a magistrate in this town but should be 
 knocked of the head for suffering them. If you've a mind to 
 praise anything, why you may praise a play, and welcome, for 
 I like it myself.' 
 
 This reproof effectually silenced us both for the rest of the 
 evening. Nay, indeed, for some minutes it seemed to silence 
 everybody else ; till Mr. Lovel, not willing to lose an oppor- 
 tunity of returning the Captain's sarcasm, said, ' Why, really, 
 Sir, it is but natural to be most pleased with what is most 
 familiar, and, I think, of all our diversions, there is not one so 
 much in common between us and the country as a play. Not 
 a village but has its barns and comedians ; and as for the 
 stage business, why it may be pretty equally done anywhere ; 
 and even in regard to us, and the canaille, confined as we all 
 are within the semicircle of a theatre, there is no place where 
 the distinction is less obvious.' 
 
 I2 5
 
 EVELINA 
 
 While the Captain seemed considering for Mr. Lovel's 
 meaning, Lord Orville, probably with a view to prevent his 
 finding it, changed the subject to Cox's Museum, and asked 
 what he thought of it. 
 
 'Think ! — -' said he, 'why I think as how it i'n't worth 
 thinking about. I like no such jem-cracks. It is only fit, in 
 my mind, for monkeys, — though, for aught I know, they too 
 might turn up their noses at it.' 
 
 ' May we ask your Lordship's own opinion ? ' said Mrs. 
 Mirvan. 
 
 ' The mechanism,' answered he, ' is wonderfully ingenious ; 
 I am sorry it is turned to no better account ; but its purport 
 is so frivolous, so very remote from all aim at instruction or 
 utility, that the sight of so fine a show only leaves a regret on 
 the mind that so much work, and so much ingenuity, should 
 not be better bestowed.' 
 
 ' The truth is,' said the Captain, ' that in all this huge town, 
 so full as it is of folks of all sorts, there i'n't so much as one 
 public place, besides the playhouse, where a man, that's to say, 
 a man who is a man, ought not to be ashamed to show his 
 face. T'other day they got me to a ridotto ; but I believe it 
 will be long enough before they get me to another. I knew 
 no more what to do with myself, than if my ship's company 
 had been metamorphosed into Frenchmen. Then, again, 
 there's your famous Ranelagh, that you make such a fuss 
 about, — why, what a dull place is that! — it's the worst 
 of all.' 
 
 'Ranelagh dull I ' — 'Ranelagh dull!' was echoed from 
 mouth to mouth, and all the ladies, as if of one accord, re- 
 garded the Captain with looks of the most ironical contempt. 
 
 'As to Ranelagh,' said Mr. Lovel. 'most indubitably, 
 though the price is plebeian, it is by no means adapted to the 
 plebeian taste. It requires a certain acquaintance with high 
 life, and — and — and something of — of — something J' un vrai 
 gout, to be really sensible of its merit. Those whose — whose 
 connections, and so forth, are not among les gats comtne il 
 faut, can feel nothing but ennui at such a place as Ranelagh.' 
 
 ' Ranelagh ! ' cried Lord , ' O, 'tis the divinest place 
 
 under heaven, — or, indeed, — for aught I know ' 
 
 ' O you creature ! ' cried a pretty but affected young lady, 
 patting him with her fan, ' you sha'n't talk so ; I know what 
 
 126
 
 '. , 
 
 >),;,.. ' ' 
 
 ' ( ' you creature .'
 
 EVELINA 
 
 you are going to say ; but, positively, I won't sit by you, if 
 you're so wicked.' 
 
 'And how can one sit by you, and be good,' said he, 'when 
 only to look at you is enough to make one wicked — or wish to 
 be 'so ? ' 
 
 ' Fie, my Lord ! ' returned she, ' you are really insufferable. 
 I don't think I shall speak to you again these seven years.' 
 
 ' What a metamorphosis,' cried Lord Orville, ' should you 
 make a patriarch of his Lordship ! ' 
 
 ' Seven years ! ' said he, ' dear Madam, be contented with 
 telling me you will not speak to me after seven years, and I 
 will endeavour to submit.' 
 
 ' O, very well, my Lord,' answered she, ' pray date the end 
 of our speaking to each other as early as you please, I'll 
 promise to agree to your time.' 
 
 'You know, dear Madam,' said he, sipping his tea, 'you 
 know I only live in your sight.' 
 
 ' O yes, my Lord, I have long known that. But I begin to 
 fear we shall be too late for Ranelagh this evening.' 
 
 ' O no, Madam,' said Mr. Lovel, looking at his watch, ' it 
 is but just past ten.' 
 
 ' No more ! ' cried she ; ' O then we shall do very well.' 
 
 All the ladies now started up, and declared they had no 
 time to lose. 
 
 ' Why, what the D 1,' cried the Captain, leaning forward 
 
 with both his arms on the table, ' are you going to Ranelagh 
 at this time of night ? ' 
 
 The ladies looked at one another, and smiled. 
 
 ' To Ranelagh ?' cried Lord . ' Yes, and I hope you 
 
 are going too ; for we cannot possibly excuse these ladies.' 
 
 ' I go to Ranelagh ? — if I do, I'll be ' 
 
 Everybody now stood up, and the stranger Lord, coming 
 round to me, said, ' You go, I hope ? ' 
 
 ' No, my Lord, I believe not.' 
 
 ' O you cannot, must not be so barbarous.' And he took 
 my hand, and ran on saying such fine speeches and com- 
 pliments, that I might almost have supposed myself a goddess, 
 and him a pagan, paying me adoration. As soon as I possibly 
 could, I drew back my hand ; but he frequently, in the course 
 of conversation, contrived to take it again, though it was ex- 
 tremely disagreeable to me : and the more so, as I saw that 
 
 i 28
 
 EVELINA 
 
 Lord Orville had his eyes fixed upon us, with a gravity of 
 attention that made me uneasy. 
 
 And, surely, my dear Sir, it was a great liberty in this 
 Lord, notwithstanding his rank, to treat me so freely. As to 
 Sir Clement, he seemed in misery. 
 
 They all endeavoured to prevail with the Captain to join 
 the Ranelagh party ; and this Lord told me, in a low voice, 
 that it was tearing his heart out to go without me. 
 
 During this conversation, Mr. Lovel came forward, and 
 assuming a look of surprise, made me a bow, and inquired 
 how I did, protesting, upon his honour, that he had not seen 
 me before, or would sooner have paid his respects to me. 
 
 Though his politeness was evidently constrained, yet I was 
 very glad to be thus assured of having nothing more to fear 
 from him. 
 
 The Captain, far from listening to their persuasions of 
 accompanying them to Ranelagh, was quite in a passion at 
 the proposal, and vowed he would sooner go to the Black Hole 
 in Calcutta. 
 
 ' But,' said Lord , ' if the ladies will take their tea at 
 
 Ranelagh, you may depend upon our seeing them safe home, 
 for we shall all be proud of the honour of attending them.' 
 
 ' Maybe so,' said the Captain ; ' but I'll tell you what, if 
 one of these places ben't enough for them to-night, why to- 
 morrow they shall go to ne'er a one.' 
 
 We instantly declared ourselves very ready to go home. 
 
 ' It is not for yourselves that we petition,' said Lord , 
 
 'but for us j if you have any charity, you will not be so cruel 
 as to deny us ; we only beg you to prolong our happiness for 
 a few minutes, — the favour is but a small one for you to 
 grant, though so great a one for us to receive.' 
 
 ' To tell you a piece of my mind,' said the Captain, surlily, 
 ' I think you might as well not give the girls so much of this 
 palaver : they'll take it all for gospel. As to Moll, why 
 she's well enough, but nothing extraordinary, though, perhaps 
 you may persuade her that her pug-nose is all the fashion.: 
 and as to the other, why she's good white and red to be sure ; 
 but what of that ! — I'll warrant she'll moulder away as fast 
 as her neighbours.' 
 
 ' Is there,' cried Lord , another man in this place. 
 
 who, seeing such objects, could make such a speech ?' 
 
 129 K
 
 EVELINA 
 
 ' As to that there,' returned the Captain, ' I don't know 
 whether there be or no, and, to make free, I don't care ; for 
 I sha'n't go for to model myself by any of these fair-weather 
 chaps, who dare not so much as say their souls are their own, 
 — and, for aught I know, no more they ben't. I'm almost as 
 much ashamed of my countrymen as if I was a Frenchman, 
 and I believe in my heart there i'n't a pin to choose between 
 them ; and, before long, we shall hear the very sailors talking 
 that lingo, and see never a swabber without a bag and a 
 sword.' 
 
 ' He, he, he ! — well, 'pon honour,' cried Mr. Lovel, ' you 
 gentlemen of the ocean have a most severe way of judging.' 
 
 ' Severe ! 'fore George, that is impossible ; for, to cut the 
 matter short, the men, as they call themselves, are no better 
 than monkeys ; and as to the women, why they are mere 
 dolls. So now you've got my opinion of this subject ; and so 
 I wish you good night.' 
 
 The ladies, who were very impatient to be gone, made 
 their curtsies, and tripped away, followed by all the gentle- 
 men of their party, except the Lord I have before mentioned, 
 and Lord Orville, who stayed to make inquiries of Mrs. 
 Mirvan concerning our leaving town ; and then saying, with 
 his usual politeness, something civil to each of us, with a 
 very grave air, he quitted us. 
 
 Lord remained some minutes longer, which he spent 
 
 in making a profusion of compliments to me, by which he 
 prevented my hearing distinctly what Lord Orville said, to 
 my great vexation, especially as he looked — I thought so, at 
 least — as if displeased at his particula ity of behaviour to me. 
 
 In going to an outward room, to wait for the carriage, I 
 walked, and could not possibly avoid it, between this noble- 
 man and Sir Clement Willoughby ; and, when the servant 
 said the coach stopped the way, though the latter offered me 
 his hand, which I should much have preferred, this same 
 Lord, without any ceremony, took mine himself; and Sir 
 Clement, with a look extremely provoked, conducted Mrs. 
 Mirvan. 
 
 In all ranks and all stations of life, how strangely do 
 characters and manners differ ! Lord Orville, with a polite- 
 ness which knows no intermission, and makes no distinction, 
 is as unassuming and modest as if he had never mixed with
 
 EVELINA 
 
 the great, and was totally ignorant of every qualification he 
 possesses ; this other Lord, though lavish of compliments and 
 fine speeches, seems to me an entire stranger to real good- 
 breeding ; whoever strikes his fancy, engrosses his whole 
 attention. He is forward and bold, has an air of haughtiness 
 towards men, and a look of libertinism towards women, and 
 his conscious quality seems to have given him a freedom in 
 his way of speaking to either sex, that is very little short of 
 rudeness. 
 
 When we returned home, we were all low-spirited ; the 
 evening's entertainment had displeased the Captain, and his 
 displeasure, I believe, disconcerted us all. 
 
 And here I thought to have concluded my letter ; but, to 
 my great surprise, just now we had a visit from Lord Orville. 
 He called, he said, to pay his respects to us before we left 
 town, and made many inquiries concerning our return ; and, 
 when Mrs. Mirvan told him we were going into the country 
 without any view of again quitting it, he expressed his concern 
 in such terms — -so polite, so flattering, so serious — that I 
 could hardly forbear being sorry myself. Were I to go 
 immediately to Berry Hill, I am sure I should feel nothing 
 but joy ; — but, now we are joined by this Captain, and by 
 Madame Duval, I must own I expect very little pleasure at 
 Howard ('.rove. 
 
 Before Lord Orville went, Sir Clement Willoughby called. 
 He was more grave than I had ever seen him, and made 
 several attempts to speak to me in a low voice, and to assure 
 me that his regret upon the occasion of our journey was 
 entirely upon my account. But I was not in spirits, and 
 could not bear to be teased by him. However, he has so 
 well paid his court to Captain Mirvan, that he gave him a 
 very hearty invitation to the Grove. At this, he brightened, 
 — and, just then, Lord Orville took leave. 
 
 No doubt but he was disgusted at this ill-timed, ill-bred 
 partiality ; for surely it was very wrong to make an imitation 
 before Lord Orville, in which he was not included ! I was 
 so much chagrined, that, as soon as he went, I left the room ; 
 and 1 shall not go downstairs till Sir Clement is gone. 
 
 Lord Orville cannot but observe his assiduous endeavours 
 to ingratiate himself into my favour ; and does not this 
 extravagant civility of Captain Mirvan give him reason to 
 
 131
 
 EVELINA 
 
 suppose, that it meets with our general approbation ? I can- 
 not think upon this subject without inexpressible uneasiness ; 
 — and yet, I can think of nothing else. 
 
 Adieu, my dearest Sir. Pray write to me immediately. 
 How many long letters has this one short fortnight produced ! 
 More than I may, probably, ever write again : I fear I shall 
 have tired you with reading them ; but you will now have time 
 to rest, for I shall find but little to say in future. 
 
 And now, most honoured Sir, with all the follies and im- 
 perfections which I have thus faithfully recounted, can you, 
 and with unabated kindness, suffer me to sign myself — Your 
 dutiful and most affectionate EVELINA ? 
 
 LETTER XXIV 
 
 MR. VILLARS TO EVELINA 
 
 Berry Hii.l, April 22. 
 
 How much do I rejoice that I can again address my letters 
 to Howard Grove ! .My Evelina would have grieved had she 
 known the anxiety of my mind, during her residence in the 
 great world. My apprehensions have been inexpressibly 
 alarming ; and your journal, at once exciting and relieving my 
 fears, has almost wholly occupied me, since the time of your 
 dating it from London. 
 
 Sir Clement Willoughby must be an artful designing man ; 
 I am extremely irritated at his conduct. The passion he 
 pretends for you has neither sincerity nor honour ; the manner 
 and the opportunities he has chosen to declare it are bordering 
 upon insult. 
 
 His unworthy behaviour after the opera, convinces me that, 
 had not your vehemence frightened him, Quean Ann Street 
 would have been the last place whither he would have ordered 
 his chariot. O my child, how thankful am I for your escape ! 
 I need not now, I am sure, enlarge upon your indiscretion and 
 want of thought, in so hastily trusting yourself with a man so 
 little known to you, and whose gaiety and rlightiness should 
 have put you on your guard. 
 
 The nobleman you met at the Pantheon, bold and forward 
 132
 
 EVELINA 
 
 as you describe him to be, gives me no apprehension ; a man 
 who appears so openly licentious, and who makes his attack 
 with so little regard to decorum, is one who, to a mind such as 
 my Evelina's, can never be seen but with the disgust which his 
 manners ought to excite. 
 
 But Sir Clement, though he seeks occasion to give real 
 offence, contrives to avoid all appearance of intentional evil. 
 He is far more dangerous, because more artful ; but I am 
 happy to observe that he seems to have made no impression 
 upon your heart, and therefore a very little care and prudence 
 may secure you from those designs which I fear he has formed. 
 
 Lord Orville appears to be of a better order of beings. His 
 spirited conduct to the meanly impertinent Lovel, and his 
 anxiety for you after the opera, prove him to be a man of sense 
 and of feeling. Doubtless, he thought there was much reason 
 to tremble for your safety, while exposed to the power of Sir 
 Clement ; and he acted with a regard to real honour, that will 
 always incline me to think well of him, in so immediately 
 acquainting the Mirvan family with your situation. Many men 
 of this age, from a false and pretended delicacy to a friend, 
 would have quietly pursued their own affairs, and thought it 
 more honourable to leave an unsuspecting young creature to 
 the mercy of a libertine, than to risk his displeasure by taking 
 measures for her security. 
 
 Your evident concern at leaving London is very natural ; 
 and yet it afflicts me. I ever dreaded your being too much 
 pleased with a life of dissipation, which youth and vivacity 
 render but too alluring ; and I almost regret the consent for 
 your journey, which I had not the resolution to withhold. 
 
 Alas, my child, the artlessness of your nature, and the 
 simplicity of your education, alike unfit you for the thorny 
 paths of the great and busy world. The supposed obscurity 
 of your birth and situation makes you liable to a thousand 
 disagreeable adventures. Not only my views, but my hopes 
 for your future life, have ever centred in the country. Shall I 
 own to you, that, however I may differ from Captain Mirvan 
 in other respects, yet my opinion of the town, its manners, 
 inhabitants, and diversions, is much upon a level with his own ? 
 Indeed it is the general harbour of fraud and of folly, of duplicity 
 and of impertinence ; and I wish few things more fervently, 
 than that you may have taken a lasting leave of it. 
 
 1 33
 
 EVELINA 
 
 Remember, however, that I only speak in regard to a public 
 and dissipated life ; in private families, we may doubtless find 
 as much goodness, honesty, and virtue in London as in the 
 country. 
 
 If contented with a retired station, I still hope I shall live 
 to see my Evelina the ornament of her neighbourhood, and the 
 pride and delight of her family : giving and receiving joy from 
 such society as may best deserve her affection, and employing 
 herself in such useful and innocent occupations as may secure 
 and merit the tenderest love of her friends, and the worthiest 
 satisfaction of her own heart. 
 
 Such are my hopes, and such have been my expectations. 
 Disappoint them not, my beloved child, but cheer me with a 
 few lines, that may assure me this one short fortnight spent in 
 town has not undone the work of seventeen years spent in the 
 country. Arthur Villars. 
 
 LETTER XXV 
 
 EVELINA TO THE REV. MR. VILLARS 
 
 Howard Grove, April 25. 
 
 No, my dear Sir, no : the work of seventeen years remains 
 such as it was, ever unworthy your time and your labour, but 
 not more so now, — at least I hope not, — than before that 
 fortnight which has so much alarmed you. 
 
 And yet, I must confess, that I am not half so happy here 
 at present, as I was ere I went to town : but the change is in 
 the place, not in me. Captain Mirvan and Madame Duval 
 have ruined Howard Grove. The harmony that reigned here 
 is disturbed, our schemes are broken, our way of life is altered, 
 and our comfort is destroyed. But do not suppose London to 
 be the source of these evils ; for, had our excursion been any- 
 where else, so disagreeable an addition to our household must 
 have caused the same change at our return. 
 
 I was sure you would be displeased with Sir Clement 
 Willoughby, and therefore I am by no means surprised at 
 what you say of him : but for Lord Orville — I must own I had 
 greatly feared, that my weak and imperfect account would not 
 
 134
 
 EVELINA 
 
 have procured him the good opinion which he so well deserves, 
 and which I am delighted to find you seem to have of him. 
 Oh, Sir, could I have done justice to the merit of which I 
 believe him possessed, — could I have painted him to you such 
 as he appeared to me, — then, indeed, you would have had 
 some idea of the claim which he has to your approbation ! 
 
 After the last letter which I wrote in town, nothing more passed 
 previous to our journey hither, except a very violent quarrel 
 between Captain Mirvan and Madame Duval. As the Captain 
 intended to travel on horseback, he had settled that we four 
 females should make use of his coach. Madame Duval did 
 not come to Queen Ann Street till the carriage had waited 
 some time at the door, and then, attended by Monsieur Du 
 Bois, she made her appearance. 
 
 The Captain, impatient to be gone, would not suffer them 
 to enter the house, but insisted that we should immediately 
 get into the coach. We obeyed ; but were no sooner seated, 
 than Madame Duval said, 'Come, Monsieur Du Bois, these 
 girls can make very good room for you : sit closer, children.' 
 
 Mrs. Mirvan looked quite confounded, and M. Du Bois, 
 after making some apologies about crowding us, actually got 
 into the coach, on the side with Miss Mirvan and me. But 
 no sooner was he seated, than the Captain, 'who had observed 
 this transaction very quietly, walked up to the coach-door, 
 saying, 'What, neither with your leave, nor by your leave ?' 
 
 M. Du Bois seemed rather shocked, and began to make 
 abundance of excuses ; but the Captain neither understood nor 
 regarded him, and, very roughly, said, ' Look'ee, Monseer, this 
 here may be a French fashion, for aught I know ; — but Give 
 and Take is fair in all nations ; and so now, d'ye see, I'll make 
 bold to show you an English one.' 
 
 And then, seizing his wrist, he made him jump out of the 
 coach. 
 
 M. Du Bois instantly put his hand upon his sword, and 
 threatened to resent this indignity. The Captain, holding up 
 his stick, bid him draw at his peril. Mrs. Mirvan, greatly 
 alarmed, got out of the coach, and, standing between them, 
 entreated her husband to re-enter the house. 
 
 ' None of your clack ! ' cried he, angrily ; ' what the D 1, 
 
 do you suppose I f,.n't manage a Frenchman ?' 
 
 Meantime, Madame Duval called out to M. Du Bois, 'Eli, 
 
 l 35
 
 wemvm 
 
 i 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 M. Du Bois put his h aid upon his sword.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 faissez-le, mon ami, ne le corrigez pas; e'est un vilain bete qui 
 )icn vaitt pas la peine.'' 
 
 'Monsieur le CapitaineJ cried M. Du Bois, ' voulez-vous 
 Men me demander pardon?* 
 
 ' ho, you demand pardon, do you ? ' said the Captain. ' I 
 thought as much ; I thought you'd come to ; — so you have 
 lost your relish for an English salutation, have you ? ' strutting 
 up to him with looks of defiance. 
 
 A crowd was now gathering, and Mrs. Mirvan again 
 besought her husband to go into the house. 
 
 'Why what a plague is the woman afraid of? — did you 
 ever know a Frenchman that could not take an affront ? — I 
 warrant, Monseer knows what he is about ; — don't you. 
 Monseer ? ' 
 
 M. Du Bois, not understanding him, only said, ' Plait-il 
 Monsieur ? ' 
 
 'No, nor dish me, neither,' answered the Captain ; 'but be 
 that as it may, what signifies our parleying here ? If you've 
 anything to propose, speak at once ; if not, why let us go on 
 our journey without more ado.' 
 
 ' Parbleu, je lientends rien, vwi ." cried M. Du Bois, 
 shrugging his shoulders, and looking very dismal. 
 
 Mrs. Mirvan then advanced to him, and said, in French, 
 that she was sure the Captain had not any intention to affront 
 him, and begged he would desist from a dispute which could 
 only be productive of mutual misunderstanding, as neither of 
 them knew the language of the other. 
 
 This sensible remonstrance had the desired effect, and M. 
 Du Bois, making a bow to every one except the Captain, very 
 wisely gave up the point, and took leave. 
 
 'We then hoped to proceed quietly on our journey ; but the 
 turbulent Captain would not yet permit us : he approached 
 Madame Duval with an exulting air, and said, 'Why, how's 
 this, Madam ? what, has your champion deserted you ? why, I 
 thought you tolcl me, that you old gentlewomen had it all your 
 own way among them French sparks ? ' 
 
 ' As to that, Sir,' answered she, ' it's not of no consequence 
 what you thought ; for a person who can behave in such a low 
 way may think what he pleases for me, for I sha'n't mind.' 
 
 ' Why, then, Mistress, since you must needs make so free,' 
 cried he, ' please to tell me the reason why you took the liberty 
 
 '37
 
 EVELINA 
 
 for to ask any of your followers into my coach, without my 
 leave ? Answer me to that.' 
 
 ' Why, then, pray, Sir,' returned she, ' tell me the reason why 
 you took the liberty to treat the gentleman in such an impolite 
 way, as to take and pull him neck and heels out ? I'm sure 
 he hadn't done nothing to affront you, nor nobody else ; and I 
 don't know what great hurt he would have done you. by just 
 sitting still in the coach ; he would not have eat it.' 
 
 ' What, do you think, then, that my horses have nothing to 
 do but to carry about your snivelling Frenchmen ? If you do, 
 Madam, I must make bold to tell you, you are out, for I'll see 
 'em hanged first.' 
 
 ' More brute you. then ! for they've never carried nobody 
 half so good.' 
 
 ' Why, look'ee, Madam, if you must needs provoke me, I'll 
 tell you a piece of my mind ; you must know I can see as far 
 into a mill-stone as another man, and so, if you thought for to 
 fobb me oft" with one of your smirking French puppies for a 
 son-in-law, why, you'll find yourself in a hobble, — that's all.' 
 
 ' Sir, you're a but I won't say what ; — but, I protest, 
 
 I hadn't no such a thought, no more hadn't Monsieur Du Bois.' 
 
 ' My dear,' said Mrs. Mirvan, 'we shall be very late.' 
 
 ' Well, well,' answered he, ' get away then ; off with you as 
 fast as you can, it's high time. As to Molly, she's fine lady 
 enough in all conscience ; I want none of your French chaps 
 to make her worse.' 
 
 And so saying, he mounted his horse, and we drove off. 
 And I could not but think with regret of the different feelings 
 we experienced upon leaving London, to what had belonged to 
 our entering it ! 
 
 During the journey Madame Duval was so very violent 
 against the Captain, that she obliged Mrs. Mirvan to tell her 
 that, when in her presence, she must beg her to choose some 
 other subject of discourse. 
 
 We had a most affectionate reception from Lady Howard, 
 whose kindness and hospitality cannot fail of making everybody 
 happy, who is disposed so to be. 
 
 Adieu, my dearest Sir. I hope, though I have hitherto 
 neglected to mention it, that you have always remembered me 
 to whoever has made any inquiry concerning me. 
 
 T38
 
 EVELINA 
 LETTER XXVI 
 
 EVELINA TO THE REV. MR. VILLARS 
 
 Howard Grove, April 27. 
 
 O, my dear Sir, I now write in the greatest uneasiness ! 
 Madame Duval has made a proposal which terrifies me to 
 death, and which was as unexpected as it is shocking. 
 
 She had been employed for some hours this afternoon in 
 reading letters from London, and, just about tea-time, she sent 
 for me into her room, and said, with a look of great satisfaction, 
 ' Come here, child, I've got some very good news to tell you : 
 something that will surprise you, I'll give you my word, for 
 you ha' n't no notion of it.' 
 
 I begged her to explain herself ; and then, in terms which 
 I cannot repeat, she said she had been considering what a 
 shame it was, to see me such a poor country, shame-faced 
 thing, when I ought to be a fine lady ; and that she had long, 
 and upon several occasions, blushed for me, though she must 
 own the fault was none of mine : for nothing better could be 
 expected from a girl who had been so immured. However, 
 she assured me she had, at length, hit upon a plan which 
 would make quite another creature of me. 
 
 I waited, without much impatience, to hear what this 
 preface led to ; but I was soon awakened to more lively 
 sensations, when she acquainted me that her intention was to 
 prove my birthright, and to claim, by law, the inheritance of 
 my real family I 
 
 It would be impossible for me to express my extreme con- 
 sternation, when she thus unfolded her scheme. My surprise 
 and terror were equally great. I could say nothing ; I heard 
 her with a silence which I had not the power to break. 
 
 She then expatiated very warmly upon the advantages I 
 should reap from her plan ; talked in a high style of my future 
 grandeur ; assured me how heartily I should despise almost 
 everybody and everything r I had hitherto seen ; predicted my 
 marrying into some family of the first rank in the kingdom ; 
 and, finally, said I should spend a few months in Paris, where 
 my education and manners might receive their last polish. 
 
 '39
 
 1 t-J'u ■ 
 
 'Co.yie here, child.'
 
 EVELINA 
 
 She enlarged also upon the delight she should have, in 
 common with myself, from mortifying the pride of certain 
 people, and showing them that she was not to be slighted 
 with impunity. 
 
 In the midst of this discourse, I was relieved by a summons 
 to tea. Madame Duval was in great spirits ; but my emotion 
 was too painful for concealment, and everybody inquired into 
 the cause. I would fain have waved the subject, but Madame 
 Duval was determined to make it public. She told them that 
 she had it in her head to make something of me, and that they 
 should soon call me by another name than that of Anville, 
 and yet that she was not going to have the child married, 
 neither. 
 
 I could not endure to hear her proceed, and was going to 
 leave the room ; which when Lady Howard perceived, she 
 begged Madame Duval would defer her intelligence to some 
 other opportunity ; but she was so eager to communicate her 
 scheme that she could bear no delay, and therefore they 
 suffered me to go without opposition. Indeed, whenever my 
 situation or affairs are mentioned by Madame Duval, she 
 speaks of them with such bluntness and severity, that I cannot 
 be enjoined a task more cruel than to hear her. 
 
 I was afterwards acquainted with some particulars of the 
 conversation by Miss Mirvan, who told me that Madame 
 Duval informed them of her plan with the utmost complacency, 
 and seemed to think herself very fortunate in having suggested 
 it ; but soon after, she accidentally betrayed, that she had 
 been instigated to the scheme by her relations the Branghtons, 
 whose letters, which she received to-day, first mentioned the 
 proposal. She declared that she would have nothing to do 
 with any round-about ways, but go openly and instantly to law, 
 in order to prove my birth, real name, and title to the estate 
 of my ancestors. 
 
 How impertinent and officious, in these Branghtons, to 
 interfere thus in my concerns ! Vou can hardly imagine what 
 a disturbance this plan has made in the family. The Captain, 
 without inquiring into any particulars of the affair, has 
 peremptorily declared himself against it, merely because it 
 has been proposed by Madame Duval, and they have battled 
 the point together with great violence. Mrs. Mirvan says she 
 will not even think, till she hears your opinion. But Lady 
 
 141
 
 EVELINA 
 
 Howard, to my great surprise, openly avows her approbation 
 of Madame Duval's intention : however, she will write her 
 reasons and sentiments upon the subject to you herself. 
 
 As to Miss Mirvan, she is my second self, and neither 
 hopes nor fears but as I do. And as to me, — I know not 
 what to say, nor even what to wish ; I have often thought my 
 fate peculiarly cruel, to have but one parent, and from that 
 one to be banished for ever ; — while, on the other side, I have 
 but too well known and felt the propriety of the separation. 
 And yet, you may much better imagine than I can express, 
 the internal anguish which sometimes oppresses my heart, 
 when I reflect upon the strange indifferency that must occa- 
 sion a father never to make the least inquiry after the health, 
 the welfare, or even the life of his child ! 
 
 O Sir, to me, the loss is nothing ! — greatly, sweetly, and 
 most benevolently have you guarded me from feeling it ; — 
 but for him, I grieve indeed ! — I must be divested, not merely 
 of all filial piety, but of all humanity, could I ever think upon 
 this subject, and not be wounded to the soul. 
 
 Again I must repeat, I know not what to wish : think for 
 me, therefore, my dearest Sir, and suffer my doubting mind, 
 that knows not which way to direct its hopes, to be guided by 
 your wisdom and unerring counsel. EVELINA. 
 
 LETTER XXVII 
 
 LADY HOWARD TO THE REV. MR. VILLARS 
 
 Howard Grove. 
 
 Dear Sir, — I cannot give a greater proof of the high opinion 
 I have of your candour, than by the liberty I am now going 
 to take, of presuming to offer you advice, upon a subject 
 concerning which you have so just a claim to act for yourself: 
 but I know you have too unaffected a love of justice, to be 
 partially tenacious of your own judgment. 
 
 Madame Duval has been proposing a scheme which has 
 put us all in commotion, and against which, at first, in common 
 with the rest of my family, I exclaimed ; but upon more mature 
 consideration, I own my objections have almost wholly vanished. 
 
 This scheme is no other than to commence a law-suit with 
 
 14-
 
 EVELINA 
 
 Sir John Belmont, to prove the validity of his marriage with 
 Miss Evelyn ; the necessary consequence of which proof will 
 be securing his fortune and estate to his daughter. 
 
 And why, my dear Sir, should not this be ? I know that, 
 upon first hearing, such a plan conveys ideas that must shock 
 you ; but I know, too, that your mind is superior to being 
 governed by prejudices, or to opposing any important cause 
 on account of a few disagreeable attendant circumstances. 
 
 Your lovely charge, now first entering into life, has merit 
 which ought not to be buried in obscurity. She seems born 
 for an ornament to the world. Nature has been bountiful to 
 her of whatever she had to bestow ; and the peculiar attention 
 you have given to her education, has formed her mind to a 
 degree of excellence, that, in one so young, I have scarce ever 
 seen equalled. Fortune, alone, has hitherto been sparing of 
 her gifts ; and she, too, now opens the way which leads to all 
 that is left to wish for her. 
 
 What your reasons may have been, my good Sir, for so 
 carefully concealing the birth, name, and pretensions of this 
 amiable girl, and forbearing to make any claim upon Sir John 
 Belmont, I am totally a stranger to ; but, without knowing, I 
 respect them, from the high opinion I have of your character 
 and judgment : but I hope they are not insuperable ; for I 
 cannot but think, that it was never designed for one who 
 seems meant to grace the world, to have her life devoted to 
 retirement. 
 
 Surely Sir John Belmont, wretch as he has shown himself, 
 could never see his accomplished daughter, and not be proud 
 to own her, and eager to secure her the inheritance of his 
 fortune. The admiration she met with in town, though merely 
 the effect of her external attractions, was such, that Mrs. 
 Mirvan assures me she would have had the most splendid 
 offers, had there not seemed to be some mystery in regard to 
 her birth, which, she was well informed, was assiduously, 
 though vainly, endeavoured to be discovered. 
 
 Can it be right, my dear Sir, that this promising young 
 creature should be deprived of the fortune, and rank of life, 
 to which she is lawfully entitled, and which you have prepared 
 her to support and to use so nobly ? To despise riches may, 
 indeed, be philosophic, but to dispense them worthily, must, 
 surely, be more beneficial to mankind. 
 
 '43
 
 EVELINA 
 
 Perhaps a few years, or, indeed, a much shorter time, may 
 make this scheme impracticable : Sir John, though yet young, 
 leads a life too dissipated for long duration ; and, when too 
 late, we may regret that something was not sooner done ; for 
 it will be next to impossible, after he is gone, to settle or 
 prove anything with his heirs and executors. 
 
 Pardon the earnestness with which I write my sense of this 
 affair ; but your charming ward has made me so warmly her 
 friend, that I cannot be indifferent upon a subject of such 
 importance to her future life. 
 
 Adieu, my dear Sir ; — send me speedily an answer to this 
 remonstrance, and believe me to be, etc. 
 
 M. Howard. 
 
 LETTER XXVIII 
 
 MR. VILLARS TO LADY HOWARD 
 
 Berry Hill, May 2. 
 
 Your letter, Madam, has opened a source of anxiety to 
 which I look forward with dread, and which to see closed I 
 scarcely dare expect. I am unwilling to oppose my opinion to 
 that of your Ladyship, nor, indeed, can I, but by arguments 
 which, I believe, will rather rank me as a hermit, ignorant of the 
 world, and fit only for my cell, than as a proper guardian, in an 
 age such as this, for an accomplished young woman. Vet, 
 thus called upon, it behoves me to explain, and endeavour to 
 vindicate, the reasons by which I have been hitherto guided. 
 
 The mother of this dear child, — who was led to destruction 
 by her own imprudence, the hardness of heart of Madame 
 Duval, and the villany of Sir John Belmont, — was once, what 
 her daughter is now, the best beloved of my heart ; and her 
 memory, so long as my own holds, I shall love, mourn, and 
 honour ! On the fatal day that her gentle soul left its mansion, 
 and not many hours ere she ceased to breathe, I solemnly 
 plighted my faith, That her child, if it lived, should know no 
 father, but inyself or her acknowledged husband. 
 
 You cannot, Madam, suppose that I found much difficuly 
 in adhering to this promise, and forbearing to make any claim 
 
 1 44
 
 EVELINA 
 
 upon Sir John Belmont. Could I feel an affection the most 
 paternal for this poor sufferer, and not abominate her destroyer ? 
 Could I wish to deliver to kirn, who had so basely betrayed 
 the mother, the helpless and innocent offspring, who, born in 
 so much sorrow, seemed entitled to all the compassionate 
 tenderness of pity ? 
 
 For many years, the name alone of that man, accidentally 
 spoken in my hearing, almost divested me of my Christianity, 
 and scarce could I forbear to execrate him. Yet I sought 
 not, neither did I desire, to deprive him of his child, had he, 
 with any appearance of contrition, or, indeed, of humanity, 
 endeavoured to become less unworthy such a blessing ; — but 
 he is a stranger to all parental feelings, and has, with a savage 
 insensibility, forborne to inquire even into the existence of this 
 sweet orphan, though the situation of his injured wife was but 
 too well known to him. 
 
 You wish to be acquainted with my intentions. I must 
 acknowledge, they were such as I now perceive would not be 
 honoured with your Ladyship's approbation : for though I 
 have sometimes thought of presenting Evelina to her father, 
 and demanding the justice which is her due, yet, at other 
 times, I have both disdained and feared the application ; dis- 
 dained, lest it should be refused, and feared, lest it should be 
 accepted ! 
 
 Lady Belmont, who was firmly persuaded of her approach- 
 ing dissolution, frequently and earnestly besought me, that if 
 her infant was a female, I would not abandon her to the 
 direction of a man so wholly unfit to take the charge of her 
 education ; but, should she be importunately demanded, that 
 I would retire with her abroad, and carefully conceal her from 
 Sir John, till some apparent change in his sentiments and 
 conduct should announce him less improper for such a trust. 
 And often would she say, ' Should the poor babe have any 
 feelings correspondent with its mother's, it will have no want 
 while under your protection.' Alas ! she had no sooner 
 quitted it herself, than she was plunged into a gulf of misery, 
 that swallowed up her peace, reputation, and life. 
 
 During the childhood of Evelina I suggested a thousand 
 plans for the security of her birthright ; — but I as oftentimes 
 rejected them. I was in a perpetual conflict, between the 
 desire that she should have justice done her, and the appre- 
 
 145 L
 
 EVELINA 
 
 hension that, while I improved her fortune, I should endanger 
 her mind. However, as her character began to be formed, 
 and her disposition to be displayed, my perplexity abated ; 
 the road before me seemed less thorny and intricate, and I 
 thought I could perceive the right path from the wrong : for, 
 when I observed the artless openness, the ingenious simplicity 
 of her nature ; when I saw that her guileless and innocent soul 
 fancied all the world to be pure and disinterested as herself, 
 and that her heart was open to every impression with which 
 love, pity, or art might assail it ; — then did I flatter myself, 
 that to follow my own inclination, and to secure her welfare, 
 was the same thing ; since, to expose her to the snares and 
 dangers inevitably encircling a house of which the master is 
 dissipated and unprincipled, without the guidance of a mother, 
 or any prudent and sensible female, seemed to me no less 
 than suffering her to stumble into some dreadful pit, when the 
 sun was in its meridian. My plan, therefore, was not merely 
 to educate and to cherish her as my own, but to adopt her the 
 heiress of my small fortune, and to bestow her upon some 
 worthy man, with whom she might spend her days in tran- 
 quillity, cheerfulness, and good -humour, untainted by vice, 
 folly, or ambition. 
 
 So much for the time past. Such have been the motives 
 by which I have been governed ; and I hope they will be 
 allowed not merely to account for, but also to justify, the 
 conduct which has resulted from them. It now remains to 
 speak of the time to come. 
 
 And here, indeed, I am sensible of difficulties which I 
 almost despair of surmounting according to my wishes. I 
 pay the highest deference to your Ladyship's opinion, which 
 it is extremely painful to me not to concur with ; yet, I am so 
 well acquainted with your goodness, that I presume to hope 
 it would not be absolutely impossible for me to offer such 
 arguments as might lead you to think with me, that this young 
 creature's chance of happiness seems less doubtful in retire- 
 ment, than it would be in the gay and dissipated world : but 
 why should I perplex your Ladyship with reasoning that can 
 turn to so little account ? for, alas ! what arguments, what 
 persuasions can I make use of, with any prospect of success, 
 to such a woman as Madame Duval ? Her character, and the 
 violence of her disposition, intimidate me from making the 
 
 146
 
 EVELINA 
 
 attempt : she is too ignorant for instruction, too obstinate for 
 entreaty, and too weak for reason. 
 
 I will not, therefore, enter into a contest from which I have 
 nothing to expect but altercation and impertinence. As soon 
 would I discuss the effect of sound with the deaf, or the nature 
 of colours with the blind, as aim at illuminating with conviction 
 a mind so warped by prejudice, so much the slave of unruly 
 and illiberal passions. Unused as she is to control, persuasion 
 would but harden, and opposition incense her. I yield, there- 
 fore, to the necessity which compels my reluctant acquiescence, 
 and shall now turn all my thoughts upon considering of such 
 methods for the conducting this enterprise, as may be most 
 conducive to the happiness of my child, and least liable to 
 wound her sensibility. 
 
 The law-suit, therefore, I wholly and absolutely disapprove. 
 
 Will you, my dear Madam, forgive the freedom of an old 
 man, if I own myself greatly surprised that you could, even for 
 a moment, listen to a plan so violent, so public, so totally 
 repugnant to all female delicacy ? I am satisfied your Lady- 
 ship has not weighed this project. There was a time, indeed, 
 when, to assert the innocence of Lady Belmont, and to blazon 
 to the world the wrongs, not guilt, by which she suffered, I 
 proposed, nay attempted, a similar plan : but then, all assist- 
 ance and encouragement was denied. How cruel to the 
 remembrance I bear to her woes, is this tardy resentment of 
 Madame Duval ! She was deaf to the voice of Nature, though 
 she has hearkened to that of Ambition. 
 
 Never can I consent to have this dear and timid girl 
 brought forward to the notice of the world by such a method — 
 a method which will subject her to all the impertinence of 
 curiosity, the sneers of conjecture, and the stings of ridicule. 
 And for what ? — the attainment of wealth, which she does not 
 want, and the gratification of vanity, which she does not feel. 
 - A child to appear against a father ! — no, Madam, old and 
 infirm as I am, I would even yet sooner convey her myself to 
 some remote part of the world, though I were sure of dying 
 in the expedition. 
 
 Far different had been the motives which would have 
 stimulated her unhappy mother to such a proceeding ; all her 
 felicity in this world was irretrievably lost : her life was 
 become a burthen to her, and her fair fame, which she had 
 
 147
 
 EVELINA 
 
 early been taught to prize above all other things, had received 
 a mortal wound : therefore, to clear her own honour, and to 
 secure from blemish the birth of her child, was all the good 
 which Fortune had reserved herself the power of bestowing. 
 But even this last consolation was withheld from her ! 
 
 Let milder measures be adopted ; and — since it must be 
 so — let application be made to Sir John Belmont ; but as to 
 a law-suit, I hope, upon this subject, never more to hear it 
 mentioned. 
 
 With Madame Duval, all pleas of delicacy would be in- 
 effectual ; her scheme must be opposed by arguments better 
 suited to her understanding. I will not, therefore, talk of its 
 impropriety, but endeavour to prove its inutility. Have the 
 goodness, then, to tell her, that her own intentions would be 
 frustrated by her plan, since, should the law-suit be commenced, 
 and even should the cause be gained, Sir John Belmont would 
 still have it in his power, and, if irritated, no doubt in his 
 inclination, to cut off her granddaughter with a shilling. 
 
 She cannot do better, herself, than to remain quiet and in- 
 active in the affair : the long and mutual animosity between 
 her and Sir John, will make her interference merely productive 
 of debates and ill-will. Neither would I have Evelina appear 
 till summoned. And as to myself, I must wholly decline acting, 
 though I will, with unwearied zeal, devote all my thoughts to 
 giving counsel : but, in truth, I have neither inclination nor 
 spirits adequate to engaging personally with this man. 
 
 My opinion is, that he would pay more respect to a letter 
 from your Ladyship upon this subject, than from any other 
 person. I therefore advise and hope, that you will yourself 
 take the trouble of writing to him, in order to open the affair. 
 When he shall be inclined to see Evelina, I have for him a 
 posthumous letter, which his much-injured lady left to be 
 presented to him, if ever such a meeting should take place. 
 
 The views of the Branghtons, in suggesting this scheme, 
 are obviously interested ; they hope, by securing to Evelina 
 the fortune of her father, to induce Madame Duval to settle 
 her own upon themselves. In this, however, they would 
 probably be mistaken ; for little minds have ever a propensity 
 to bestow their wealth upon those who are already in affluence, 
 and, therefore, the less her grandchild requires her assistance, 
 the more gladly she will give it. 
 
 14S
 
 EVELINA 
 
 I have but one thing more to add, from which, however, 
 I can by no means recede : my word so solemnly given to 
 Lady Belmont, that her child should never be owned but with 
 herself, must be inviolably adhered to. — I am, dear Madam, 
 with great respect, your Ladyship's most obedient servant, 
 
 Arthur Villars. 
 
 LETTER XXIX 
 
 MR. VILLARS TO EVELINA 
 
 Berry Hill, May 2. 
 
 How sincerely do I sympathise in the uneasiness and 
 concern which my beloved Evelina has so much reason to feel ! 
 The cruel scheme in agitation is equally repugnant to my 
 judgment and my inclination, — yet to oppose it, seems im- 
 practicable. To follow the dictates of my own heart, I should 
 instantly recall you to myself, and never more consent to your 
 being separated from me ; but the manners and opinion of the 
 world demand a different conduct. Hope, however, for the 
 best, and be satisfied you shall meet with no indignity ; if you 
 are not received into your own family as you ought to be, and 
 with the distinction that is your due, you shall leave it for ever ; 
 and, once again restored to my protection, secure your own 
 tranquillity, and make, as you have hitherto done, all the 
 happiness of my life ! 
 
 LETTER XXX 
 
 EVELINA TO THE REV. MR. VILLARS 
 
 HOWARD Grove, May 6. 
 
 The die is thrown, and I attend the event in trembling ! 
 Lady Howard has written to Paris, and sent her letter to 
 town, to be forwarded in the ambassador's packet, and in 
 less than a fortnight, therefore, she expects an answer. O 
 Sir, with what anxious impatience shall I wait its arrival ! 
 
 149
 
 EVELINA 
 
 upon it seems to depend the fate of my future life. My 
 solicitude is so great, and my suspense so painful, that I can- 
 not rest a moment in peace, or turn my thoughts into any 
 other channel. 
 
 Deeply interested as I now am in the event, most sincerely 
 do I regret that the plan was ever proposed : methinks it can- 
 not end to my satisfaction ; for either I must be torn from the 
 arms of my more than father, — or I must have the misery of 
 being finally convinced, that I am cruelly rejected by him who 
 has the natural claim to that dear title — a title which, to 
 write, mention, or think of, fills my whole soul with filial 
 tenderness. 
 
 The subject is discussed here eternally. Captain Mirvan 
 and Madame Duval, as usual, quarrel whenever it is started : 
 but I am so wholly engrossed by my own reflections, that I 
 cannot even listen to them. My imagination changes the 
 scene perpetually ; one moment I am embraced by a kind and 
 relenting parent, who takes me to that heart from which I 
 have hitherto been banished, and supplicates, through me, 
 peace and forgiveness from the ashes of my mother ! — at 
 another, he regards me with detestation, considers me as the 
 living image of an injured saint, and repulses me with horror ! 
 — But I will not afflict you with the melancholy phantasms of 
 my brain, I will endeavour to compose my mind to a more 
 tranquil state, and forbear to write again, till I have, in some 
 measure, succeeded. 
 
 May Heaven bless you, my dearest Sir! and long, long 
 may it continue you on earth, to bless — your grateful 
 
 Evelina ! 
 
 LETTER XXXI 
 
 LADY HOWARD TO SIR JOHN BELMONT, BART. 
 
 Howard Grove. May 5. 
 
 Sir — You will, doubtless, be surprised at receiving a letter 
 
 from one who had for so short a period the honour of your 
 
 acquaintance, and that at so great a distance of time ; but the 
 
 motive which has induced me to take this libertv, is of so
 
 EVELINA 
 
 delicate a nature, that were I to commence making apologies 
 for my officiousness, I fear my letter would be too long for 
 your patience. 
 
 You have, probably, already conjectured the subject upon 
 which I meant to treat. My regard for Mr. Evelyn and his 
 amiable daughter was well known to you : nor can I ever 
 cease to be interested in whatever belongs to their memory or 
 family. 
 
 I must own myself somewhat distressed in what manner to 
 introduce the purport of my writing ; yet, as I think that, in 
 affairs of this kind, frankness is the first requisite to a good 
 understanding between the parties concerned, I will neither 
 torment you nor myself with punctilious ceremonies, but 
 proceed instantly and openly to the business which occasions 
 my giving you this trouble. 
 
 I presume, Sir, it would be superfluous to tell you that 
 your child resides still in Dorsetshire, and is still under the 
 protection of the Reverend Mr. Villars, in whose house she 
 was born ; for, though no inquiries concerning her have reached 
 his ears, or mine, I can never suppose it possible you have 
 forborne to make them. It only remains, therefore, to tell 
 you, that your daughter is now grown up, that she has been 
 educated with the utmost care and the utmost success, and 
 that she is now a most deserving, accomplished, and amiable 
 young woman. 
 
 Whatever may be your view for her future destination in 
 life, it seems time to declare it. She is greatly admired, and, 
 I doubt not, will be very much sought after : it is proper, 
 therefore, that her future expectations, and your pleasure 
 concerning her, should be made known. 
 
 Believe me, Sir, she merits your utmost attention and 
 regard. You could not see and know her, and remain 
 unmoved by those sensations of affection which belong to so 
 near and tender a relationship. She is the lovely resemblance 
 of her lovely mother; — pardon, Sir, the liberty I take in 
 mentioning that unfortunate lady, but I think it behoves me, 
 upon this occasion, to show the esteem I felt for her ; allow 
 me, therefore, to say, and be not offended at my freedom, that 
 the memory of that excellent lady has but too long remained 
 under the aspersions of calumny ; surely it is time to vindicate 
 her fame ! — and how can that be done in a manner more
 
 EVELINA 
 
 eligible, more grateful to her friends, or more honourable to 
 yourself, than by openly receiving, as your child, the daughter 
 of the late Lady Belmont ? 
 
 The venerable man who has had the care of her education, 
 deserves your warmest acknowledgments for the unremitting 
 pains he has taken, and attention he has shown, in the dis- 
 charge of his trust. Indeed, she has been peculiarly fortunate 
 in meeting with such a friend and guardian : a more worthy 
 man, or one whose character seems nearer to perfection, does 
 not exist. 
 
 Permit me to assure you, Sir, she will amply repay whatever 
 regard and favour you may hereafter show her, by the comfort 
 and happiness you cannot fail to find in her affection and duty. 
 To be owned properly by you is the first wish of her heart; 
 and I am sure, that to merit your approbation will be the first 
 study of her life. 
 
 I fear that you will think this address impertinent ; but I 
 must rest upon the goodness of my intention to plead my 
 excuse. — I am, Sir, your most obedient humble servant, 
 
 M. Howard. 
 
 LETTER XXXII 
 
 EVELINA TO THE REV. MR. VILLARS 
 
 Howard Gkovk, May 10. 
 
 Our house has been enlivened to-day by the arrival of a 
 London visitor ; and the necessity I have been under of con- 
 cealing the uneasiness of my mind, has made me exert myself 
 so effectually, that I even think it is really diminished ; or, at 
 least, my thoughts are not so totally, so very anxiously occupied 
 by one only subject, as they lately were. 
 
 1 was strolling this morning, with Miss Mirvan, down a 
 lane about a mile from the grove, when we heard the trampling 
 of horses ; and, fearing the narrowness of the passage, we were 
 turning hastily back, but stopped upon hearing a voice call out 
 'Pray, ladies, don't be frightened, for I will walk my horse.' 
 We turned again, and then saw Sir Clement Willoughby. He 
 dismounted, and approaching us, with the reins in his hand, 
 
 152
 
 1 ' ti^%y 'Mr^MMi 
 
 TI1 
 
 './Vay, /«<//«, don't be frightened, for I will walk viy horse.'
 
 EVELINA 
 
 presently recollected us. ' Good Heaven,' cried he, with his 
 usual quickness, 'do I see Miss Anville ? — and you, too, Miss 
 Mirvan ? ' 
 
 He immediately ordered his servant to take charge of his 
 horse, and then, advancing to us, took a hand of each, which he 
 pressed to his lips, and said a thousand fine things concerning 
 his good fortune, our improved looks, and the charms of the 
 country, when inhabited by such rural deities. ' The town, 
 Ladies, has languished since your absence, — or, at least, I 
 have so much languished myself, as to be absolutely insensible 
 to all it had to offer. One refreshing breeze, such as I now 
 enjoy, awakens me to new vigour, life, and spirit. But I never 
 before had the good luck to see the country in such perfection.' 
 
 'Has not almost everybody left town, Sir?' said Miss 
 Mirvan. 
 
 ' I am ashamed to answer you, Madam — but indeed it is as 
 full as ever, and will continue so till after the birthday. 
 However, you ladies were so little seen, that there are but 
 few who know what it has lost. For my own part, I felt it 
 too sensibly, to be able to endure the place any longer.' 
 
 ' Is there anybody remaining there, that we were acquainted 
 with ?' cried I. 
 
 ' O yes, Ma'am.' And then he named two or three persons 
 we had seen when with him ; but he did not mention Lord 
 Orville, and I would not ask him, lest he should think me 
 curious. Perhaps, if he stays here some time, he may speak 
 of him by accident. 
 
 He was proceeding in this complimentary style, when we 
 were met by the Captain ; who no sooner perceived Sir 
 Clement, than he hastened up to him, gave him a hearty 
 shake of the hand, a cordial slap on the back, and some other 
 equally gentle tokens of satisfaction, assuring him of his great 
 joy at his visit, and declaring he was as glad to see him as if 
 he had been a messenger who brought news that a French 
 ship was sunk. Sir Clement, on the other side, expressed 
 himself with equal warmth, and protested he had been so 
 eager to pay his respects to Captain Mirvan, that he had left 
 London in its full lustre, and a thousand engagements un- 
 answered, merely to give himself that pleasure. 
 
 ' We shall have rare sport,' said the Captain, ' for do you 
 know the old Frenchwoman is among us ? 'Fore George, I 
 
 154
 
 EVELINA 
 
 have scarce made any use of her yet, by reason I have had 
 nobody with me that could enjoy a joke : howsomever, it shall 
 go hard but we'll have some diversion now.' 
 
 Sir Clement very much approved of the proposal ; and we 
 then went into the house, where he had a very grave reception 
 from Mrs. Mirvan, who is by no means pleased with his visit, 
 and a look of much discontent from Madame Duval, who said 
 to me, in a low voice, ' I'd as soon have seen Old Nick as that 
 man, for he's the most impertinentest person in the world, and 
 isn't never of my side.' 
 
 The Captain is now actually occupied in contriving some 
 scheme which, he says, is to play the old Dowager offj and so 
 eager and delighted is he at the idea, that he can scarcely 
 constrain his raptures sufficiently to conceal his design, even 
 from herself. I wish, however, since I do not dare put 
 Madame Duval upon her guard, that he had the delicacy not 
 to acquaint me with his intention. 
 
 LETTER XXXIII 
 
 EVELINA IN CONTINUATION 
 
 May 13. 
 
 The Captain's operations are begun, — and, I hope, ended ; 
 for indeed poor Madame Duval has already but too much 
 reason to regret Sir Clement's visit to Howard Grove. 
 
 Yesterday morning, during breakfast, as the Captain was 
 reading the newspaper, Sir Clement suddenly begged to look 
 at it, saying he wanted to know if there was any account of a 
 transaction, at which he had been present the evening before 
 his journey hither, concerning a poor Frenchman, who had 
 got into a scrape which might cost him his life. 
 
 The Captain demanded particulars ; and then Sir Clement 
 told a long story, of being with a party of country friends at 
 the Tower, and hearing a man cry out for mercy in French ; 
 and that, when he inquired into the occasion of his distress, he 
 was informed that he had been taken up upon suspicion of 
 treasonable practices against the government. ' The poor 
 fellow,' continued he, ' no sooner found that I spoke French, 
 
 1 ^
 
 EVELINA 
 
 than he besought me to hear him, protesting that he had no 
 evil designs ; that he had been but a short time in England, 
 and only waited the return of a lady from the country, to quit 
 it for ever.' 
 
 Madame Duval changed colour, and listened with the 
 utmost attention. 
 
 ' Now, though I by no means approve of so many foreigners 
 continually flocking into our country,' added he, addressing 
 himself to the Captain, ' yet I could not help pitying the poor 
 wretch, because he did not know enough of English to make 
 his defence : however, I found it impossible to assist him, for 
 the mob would not suffer me to interfere. In truth, I am 
 afraid he was but roughly handled.' 
 
 ' Why, did they duck him ? ' said the Captain. 
 
 ' Something of that sort,' answered he. 
 
 ' So much the better ! so much the better ! ' cried the 
 Captain, 'an impudent French puppy! — I'll bet you what you 
 will he was a rascal. I only wish all his countrymen were 
 served the same.' 
 
 ' I wish you had been in his place, with all my soul ! ' cried 
 Madame Duval, warmly; — 'but pray, Sir, didn't nobody know 
 who this poor gentleman was ? ' 
 
 ' Why, I did hear his name spoke,' answered Sir Clement, 
 ' but I cannot recollect it.' 
 
 ' It wasn't — it wasn't — Du Bois ?' stammered out Madame 
 Duval. 
 
 'The very name ! ' answered he, ' yes, Du Bois, I remember 
 it now.' 
 
 Madame Duval's cup fell from her hand, as she repeated 
 ' Du Bois ! Monsieur Du Bois, did you say ': ' 
 
 ' Du Bois ! why, that's my friend,' cried the Captain, ' that's 
 Monsieur Slippery, isn't it ? — Why, he's plaguy fond of sousing 
 work ; howsomever, I'll be sworn they gave him his fill of it.' 
 
 'And I'll be sworn,' cried Madame Duval, 'that you're a — 
 but I don't believe nothing about it, so you needn't be so over- 
 joyed, for I daresay it was no more Monsieur Du Bois than 
 I am.' 
 
 ' I thought at the time,' said Sir Clement, very gravely, ' that 
 I had seen the gentleman before, and now I recollect, I think 
 it was in company with you, Madam.' 
 
 'With me, Sir?' cried Madame Duval. 
 1*6
 
 EVELINA 
 
 ' Say you so ? ' said the Captain, ' why then, it must be he, 
 as sure as you're alive ! — Well but, my good friend, what will 
 they do with poor Monsieur ? ' 
 
 ' It is difficult to say,' answered Sir Clement, very thought- 
 fully ; ' but I should suppose, that if he has not good friends to 
 appear for him, he will be in a very unpleasant situation ; for 
 these are serious sort of affairs.' 
 
 ' Why, do you think they'll hang him ? ' demanded the 
 Captain. 
 
 Sir Clement shook his head, but made no answer. 
 
 Madame Duval could no longer contain her agitation ; she 
 started from her chair, repeating, with a voice half-choked, 
 • Hang him ! — they can't, — they sha'n't, — let them at their 
 peril ! — however, it's all false, and I won't believe a word of it ; 
 — but I'll go to town this very moment, and see M. Du Bois 
 myself; — I won't wait for nothing.' 
 
 Mrs. Mirvan begged her not to be alarmed ; but she flew 
 out of the room, and upstairs into her own apartment. Lady 
 Howard blamed both the gentlemen for having been so abrupt, 
 and followed her. I would have accompanied her, but the 
 Captain stopped me ; and, having first laughed very heartily, 
 said he was going to read his commission to his ship's 
 company. 
 
 • Now, do you see,' said he, 'as to Lady Howard, I sha'n't 
 pretend for to enlist her into my service, and so I shall e'en 
 leave her to make it out as well as she can ; but as to all you, 
 I expect obedience and submission to orders. I am now upon 
 a' hazardous expedition, having undertaken to convoy a crazy 
 vessel to the shore of Mortification ; so, d'ye see, if any of you 
 have anything to propose that will forward the enterprize — 
 why speak and welcome ; but if any of you, that are of my 
 chosen crew, capitulate, or enter into any treaty with the 
 enemy, — I shall look upon you as mutinying, and turn you 
 adrift.' 
 
 Having finished this harangue, which was interlarded with 
 many expressions and sea-phrases that I cannot recollect, he 
 gave Sir Clement a wink of intelligence, and left us to ourselves. 
 
 Indeed, notwithstan ling the attempts I so frequently make 
 of writing some of the Captain's conversation, I can only give 
 you a faint idea of his language ; for almost every other word 
 he utters is accompanied by an oath which, I am sure, would 
 
 157
 
 EVELINA 
 
 be as unpleasant for you to read, as for me to write. And, 
 besides, he makes use of a thousand sea-terms, which are to 
 me quite unintelligible. 
 
 Poor Madame Duval sent to inquire at all probable places, 
 whether she could be conveyed to town in any stage-coach ; 
 but the Captain's servant brought her for answer, that no 
 London stage would pass near Howard Grove till to-day. She 
 then sent to order a chaise, but was soon assured that no 
 horses could be procured. She was so much inflamed by 
 these disappointments, that she threatened to set out for town 
 on foot, and it was with difficulty that Lady Howard dissuaded 
 her from this mad scheme. 
 
 The whole morning was filled up with these inquiries. 
 But, when we were all assembled to dinner, she endeavoured 
 to appear perfectly unconcerned, and repeatedly protested that 
 she gave not any credit to the report, as far as it regarded M. 
 Du Bois, being very certain that he was not the person in 
 question. 
 
 The Captain used the most provoking efforts to convince 
 her that she deceived herself; while Sir Clement, with more 
 art, though not less malice, affected to be of her opinion ; but, at 
 the same time that he pretended to relieve her uneasiness, by 
 saying that he doubted not having mistaken the name, he took 
 care to enlarge upon the danger to which the unknown gentle- 
 matt was exposed, and expressed great concern at his perilous 
 situation. 
 
 Dinner was hardly removed, when a letter was delivered to 
 .Madame Duval. The moment she had read it, she hastily 
 demanded from whom it came ? ' A country boy brought it,' 
 answered the servant, ' but he would not wait.' 
 
 ' Run after him this instant ! ' cried she, 'and be sure you 
 bring him back. Mon Dieu ! quel ' bqjanture / que ferai-jef 
 
 ' What's the matter ? what's the matter ? ' said the Captain. 
 
 ' Why nothing, — nothing's the matter. O mon Dicu .' ' 
 
 And she rose, and walked about the room. 
 
 'Why, what — has Monsieur sent to you?' continued the 
 Captain : ' is that there letter from him ? ' 
 
 ' No, — it i'n't ; — besides, if it is, it's nothing to you.' 
 
 ' O then, I'm sure it is ! Pray now, Madame, don't be so 
 close ; come, tell us all about it, — what does he say? how did 
 he relish the horse-pond ? — which did he find best, sousing 
 
 1^8
 
 EVELINA 
 
 single or double? — 'Fore George, 'twas plaguy unlucky you 
 was not with him ! ' 
 
 ' Its no such a thing, Sir,' cried she, very angrily, 'and if 
 you're so very fond of a horse-pond, I wish you'd put yourself 
 into one, and not be always a-thinking about other people's 
 being served so.' 
 
 The man then came in, to acquaint her they could not 
 overtake the boy. She scolded violently, and was in such 
 perturbation, that Lady Howard interfered, and begged to know 
 the cause of her uneasiness, and whether she could assist her ? 
 
 Madame Duval cast her eyes upon the Captain and Sir 
 Clement, and said she should be glad to speak to her Ladyship, 
 without so many witnesses. 
 
 'Well, then, Miss Anville,' said the Captain, turning to me, 
 'do you and Molly go into another room, and stay there till 
 Madame Duval has opened her mind to us.' 
 
 'So you may think, Sir,' cried she, 'but who's fool then? 
 no, no, you needn't trouble yourself to make a ninny of me, 
 neither, for I'm not so easily taken in, I'll assure you.' 
 
 Lady Howard then invited her into the dressing-room, and 
 I was desired to attend her. 
 
 As soon as we had shut the door, ' O my Lady,' exclaimed 
 Madame Duval, ' here's the most cruellest thing in the world has 
 happened ! — But that Captain is such a beast, I can't say nothing 
 before him, — but it's all true ! poor M. Du Bois is tooked up ! ' 
 
 Lady Howard begged her to be comforted, saying that, as 
 M. Du Bois was certainly innocent, there could be no doubt of 
 his ability to clear himself. 
 
 ' To be sure, my Lady,' answered she, ' I know he is innocent ; 
 and to be sure they'll never be so wicked as to hang him for 
 nothing ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly not,' replied Lady Howard ; ' you have no reason 
 to be uneasy. This is not a country where punishment is 
 inflicted without proof.' 
 
 ' Very true, my Lady ; but the worst thing is this ; I cannot 
 bear that that fellow, the Captain, shouTd know about it ; for if 
 he does, I sha'n't never hear the last of it : — no more won't 
 poor M. Du Hois.' 
 
 ' Well, well,' said Lady Howard, 'show me the letter, and I 
 will endeavour to advise you.' 
 
 The letter was then produced. It was signed by the clerk 
 
 '59
 
 EVELINA 
 
 of a country justice, who acquainted her, that a prisoner, then 
 upon trial for suspicion of treasonable practices against the 
 government, was just upon the point of being committed to 
 jail, but having declared that he was known to her, this clerk 
 had been prevailed upon to write, in order to inquire if she 
 really could speak to the character and family of a Frenchman 
 who called himself Pierre Du Bois. 
 
 When I heard the letter, I was quite amazed at its success. 
 So improbable did it seem, that a foreigner should be taken 
 before a country justice of peace, for a crime of so dangerous a 
 nature, that I cannot imagine how Madame Duval could be 
 alarmed, even for a moment. But, with all her violence of 
 temper, I see that she is easily frightened, and, in fact, more 
 cowardly than many who have not half her spirit ; and so little 
 does she reflect upon circumstances, or probability, that she is 
 continually the dupe of her own — I ought not to say ignorance, 
 but yet I can think of no other word. 
 
 I believe that Lady Howard, from the beginning of the 
 transaction, suspected some contrivance of the Captain, and 
 this letter, I am sure, must confirm her suspicion : however, 
 though she is not at all pleased with his frolic, yet she would 
 not hazard the consequence of discovering his designs : her 
 looks, her manner, and her character, made me draw this 
 conclusion from her apparent perplexity ; for not a word did 
 she say, that implied any doubt of the authenticity of the letter. 
 Indeed, there seems to be a sort of tacit agreement between 
 her and the Captain, that she should not appear to be acquainted 
 with his schemes ; by which means she at once avoids quarrels, 
 and supports her dignity. 
 
 While she was considering what to propose, Madame 
 Duval begged to have the use of her Ladyship's chariot, that 
 she might go immediately to the assistance of her friend. 
 Lady Howard politely assured her, that it should be extremely 
 at her service ; and then Madame Duval besought her not to 
 own to the Captain what had happened, protesting that she 
 could not endure he should know poor M. Du Bois had met 
 with so unfortunate an accident. Lady Howard could not help 
 smiling, though she readily promised not to inform the Captain 
 of the affair. As to me, she desired my attendance ; which 
 I was by no means rejoiced at, as I was certain she was going 
 upon a fruitless errand. 
 
 1 60
 
 EVELINA 
 
 I was then commissioned to order the chariot. 
 
 At the foot of the stairs I met the Captain, who was most 
 impatiently waiting the result of the conference. In an instant 
 we were joined by Sir Clement. A thousand inquiries were 
 then made concerning Madame Duval's opinion of the letter, 
 and her intentions upon it : and when I would have left them, 
 Sir Clement, pretending equal eagerness with the Captain, 
 caught my hand, and repeatedly detained me, to ask some 
 frivolous question, to the answer of which he must be totally 
 indifferent. At length, however, I broke from them ; they 
 retired into the parlour, and I executed my commission. 
 
 The carriage was soon ready, and Madame Duval, having 
 begged Lady Howard to say she was not well, stole softly 
 downstairs, desiring me to follow her. The chariot was 
 ordered at the garden door ; and when we were seated, she 
 told the man, according to the clerk's directions, to drive to 
 Mr. Justice Tyrell's, asking, at the same time, how many miles 
 off he lived ? 
 
 I expected he would have answered that he knew of no 
 such person ; but, to my great surprise, he said, ' Why, 'Squire 
 Tyrell lives about nine miles beyond the park.' 
 
 'Drive fast, then,' cried she, 'and you sha'n't be no worse 
 for it.' 
 
 During our ride, which was extremely tedious, she tormented 
 herself with a thousand fears for M. Du Bois's safety, and 
 piqued herself very much upon having escaped unseen by the 
 Captain, not only that she avoided his triumph, but because 
 she knew him to be so much M. Du Bois's enemy, that she 
 was sure he would prejudice the Justice against him, and 
 endeavour to take away his life. For my part, I was quite 
 ashamed of being engaged in so ridiculous an affair, and could 
 only think of the absurd appearance we should make upon our 
 arrival at Mr. Tyrell's. 
 
 When we had been out near two hours, and expected every 
 moment to stop at the place of our destination, I observed 
 that Lady Howard's servant, who attended us on horseback, 
 rode on forward till he was out of sight, and soon after 
 returning, came up to the chariot window, and delivering a 
 note to Madame Duval, said he had met a boy, who was just 
 coming with it to Howard Grove, from the clerk of Mr. 
 Tyrell. 
 
 161 M
 
 Sir Clement caught my hana.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 While she was reading it, he rode round to the other 
 window, and, making a sign for secrecy, put into my hand a 
 slip of paper, on which was written, ' Whatever happens, be 
 not alarmed, — for you are safe, — though you endanger all 
 mankind ! ' 
 
 I readily imagined that Sir Clement must be the author of 
 this note, which prepared me to expect some disagreeable 
 adventure : but I had no time to ponder upon it, for Madame 
 Duval bad no sooner read her own letter, than, in an angry 
 tone of voice, she exclaimed, ' Why, now, what a thing is this ! 
 here we're come all this way for nothing ! ' 
 
 She then gave me the note, which informed her that she 
 need not trouble herself to go to Mr. Tyrell's, as the prisoner 
 had had the address to escape. I congratulated her upon this 
 fortunate incident ; but she was so much concerned at having 
 rode so far in vain, that she seemed less pleased than provoked. 
 However, she ordered the man to make what haste he could 
 home, as she hoped, at least, to return before the Captain 
 should suspect what had passed. 
 
 The carriage turned about, and we journeyed so quietly for 
 near an hour, that I began to flatter myself we should be 
 suffered to proceed to Howard Grove without further molesta- 
 tion, when, suddenly, the footman called out, ' John, are we 
 going right ? ' 
 
 'Why I a'n't sure,' said the coachman, 'but I'm afraid we 
 turned wrong.' 
 
 ' What do you mean by that, sirrah ? ' said Madame Duval, 
 'why, if you lose your way, we shall be all in the dark.' 
 
 ' I think we should turn to the left,' said the footman.' 
 
 ' To the left ! ' answered the other, ' no, no, I'm partly sure 
 we should turn to the right.' 
 
 'You had better make some inquiry,' said I. 
 
 1 Ma foij cried Madame Duval, 'we're in a fine hole, here ! 
 — they neither of them know no more than the post. How- 
 ever, I'll tell my Lady, as sure as you're born, so you'd better 
 find the way.' 
 
 ' Let's try this lane,' said the footman. 
 
 ' No,' said the coachman, ' that's the road to Canterbury ; 
 we had best go straight on.' 
 
 ' Why that's the direct London road,' returned the footman, 
 ' and will lead us twenty miles about.' 
 
 163
 
 EVELINA 
 
 ' PardieJ cried Madame Duval, 'why they won't go one 
 way nor t'other ! and, now we're come all this jaunt for nothing, 
 I suppose we sha'n't get home to-night ! ' 
 
 ' Let's go back to the public-house,' said the footman, ' and 
 ask for a guide.' 
 
 ' Xo, no,' said the other, ' if we stay here a few minutes, 
 somebody or other will pass by ; and the horses are almost 
 knocked up already.' 
 
 ' Well, I protest,' cried Madame Duval, ' I'd give a guinea 
 to see them sots both horse-whipped ! As sure as I'm alive, 
 they're drunk ! Ten to one but they'll overturn us next ! ' 
 
 After much debating they at length, agreed to go on till 
 we came to some inn, or met with a passenger who could 
 direct us. We soon arrived at a small farmhouse, and the 
 footman alighted, and went into it. 
 
 In a few minutes he returned, and told us we might pro- 
 ceed, for that he had procured a direction : ' But,' added he, 
 ' it seems there are some thieves hereabouts ; and so the best 
 way will be for you to leave your watches and purses with the 
 farmer, who I know very well, and who is an honest man, and 
 a tenant of my Lady's.' 
 
 'Thieves!' cried Madame Duval, looking aghast, 'the 
 Lord help us ! — I've no doubt but we shall be all murdered ! ' 
 
 The farmer came to us, and we gave him all we were 
 worth, and the servants followed our example. We then pro- 
 ceeded, and Madame Duval's anger so entirely subsided, that 
 in the mildest manner imaginable, she entreated them to make 
 haste, and promised to tell their Lady how diligent and 
 obliging they had been. She perpetually stopped them, to 
 ask if they apprehended any danger, and was, at length, so 
 much overpowered by her fears, that she made the footman 
 fasten his horse to the back of the carriage, and then come 
 and seat himself within it. My endeavours to encourage her 
 were fruitless ; she sat in the middle, held the man by the arm, 
 and protested that if he did but save her life, she would make 
 his fortune. Her uneasiness gave me much concern, and it 
 was with the utmost difficulty I forbore to acquaint her that 
 she was imposed upon ; but the mutual fear of the Captain's 
 resentment to me, and of her own to him, neither of which 
 would have any moderation, deterred me. As to the footman, 
 he was evidently in torture from restraining his laughter, and 
 
 164
 
 EVELINA 
 
 I observed that he was frequently obliged to make most horrid 
 grimaces, from pretended fear, in order to conceal his risibility. 
 
 Very soon after, ' The robbers are coming ! ' cried the 
 coachman. 
 
 The footman opened the door, and jumped out of the 
 chariot. 
 
 Madame Duval gave a loud scream. 
 
 I could no longer preserve my silence. ' For Heaven's 
 sake, my dear Madam,' said I, ' don't be alarmed, — you are 
 in no danger — you are quite safe,— there is nothing but ' 
 
 Here the chariot was stopped by two men in masks, who, 
 at each side, put in their hands, as if for our purses. Madame 
 Duval sank to the bottom of the chariot, and implored their 
 mercy. I shrieked involuntarily, although prepared for the 
 attack : one of them held me fast, while the other tore poor 
 Madame Duval out of the carriage, in spite of her cries, threats, 
 and resistance. 
 
 I was really frightened, and trembled exceedingly. ' My 
 angel ! ' cried the man who held me, ' you cannot surely be 
 alarmed, — do you not know me ? — I shall hold myself in 
 eternal abhorrence, if I have really terrified you.' 
 
 'Indeed, Sir Clement, you have,' cried I, — 'but, for 
 Heaven's sake, where is Madame Duval? — why is she forced 
 away ? ' 
 
 ' She is perfectly safe ; the Captain has her in charge : but 
 suffer me now, my adored Miss Anville, to take the only 
 opportunity that is allowed me, to speak upon another, a much 
 dearer, much sweeter subject.' 
 
 And then he hastily came into the chariot, and seated him- 
 self next to me. I would fain have disengaged myself from 
 him, but he would not let me. ' Deny me not, most charming 
 of women,' cried he, 'deny me not this only moment that is 
 lent me, to pour forth my soul into your gentle ears, — to tell 
 you how much I suffer from your absence, — how much I dread 
 your displeasure, — and how cruelly I am affected by your 
 coldness ! ' 
 
 ' O, Sir, this is no time for such language, — pray leave me, 
 pray go to the relief of Madame Duval, — I cannot bear that 
 she should be treated with such indignity.' 
 
 ' And will you, — can you command my absence ? — When 
 may I speak to you, if not now ? — does the Captain suffer mo 
 
 165
 
 Madame Duval implored their mercy.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 to breathe a moment out of his sight ? — and are not a thousand 
 impertinent people forever at your elbow ? ' 
 
 ' Indeed, Sir Clement, you must change your style, or I will 
 not hear you. The itnpertinent people you mean are among 
 my best friends, and you would not, if you really wished me 
 well, speak of them so disrespectfully.' 
 
 ' Wish you well ! — O, Miss Anville, point but out to me 
 how, in what manner I may convince you of the fervour of my 
 passion, — tell me but what services you will accept from me, — 
 and you shall find my life, my fortune, my whole soul at your 
 devotion.' 
 
 ' I want nothing, Sir, that you can offer ; — I beg you not to 
 talk to me so — so strangely. Pray leave me, and pray assure 
 yourself, you cannot take any method so successless to show 
 any regard for me, as entering into schemes so frightful to 
 Madame Duval, and so disagreeable to myself.' 
 
 ' The scheme was the Captain's ; I even opposed it : though, 
 I own, I could not refuse myself the so long wished for happi- 
 ness of speaking to you once more, without so many of — your 
 friends to watch me. And I had flattered myself, that the 
 note I charged the footman to give you would have prevented 
 the alarm you have received.' 
 
 ' Well, Sir, you have now, I hope, said enough ; and if you 
 will not go yourself to see for Madame Duval, at least suffer 
 me to inquire what is become of her. 
 
 ' And when may I speak to you again ? ' 
 
 ' No matter when, — I don't know, — perhaps 
 
 ' Perhaps what, my angel ? ' 
 
 ' Perhaps never, Sir, — if you torment me thus.' 
 
 'Never! O, Miss Anville, how cruel, how piercing to 
 my soul is that icy word ! — Indeed, I cannot endure such 
 displeasure.' 
 
 'Then, Sir, you must not provoke it. Pray leave me 
 directly.' 
 
 ' I will, Madam : but let me, at least, make a merit of my 
 obedience, — allow me to hope that you will, in future, be 
 less averse to trusting yourself for a few moments alone 
 with me.' 
 
 I was surprised at the freedom of this request ; but, while 
 I hesitated how to answer it, the other mask came up to the 
 chariot door, and, in a voice almost stilled with laughter, said, 
 
 .6;
 
 EVELINA 
 
 ' I've done for her ! — the old buck is safe : — but we must sheer 
 off directly, or we shall be all aground.' 
 
 Sir Clement instantly left me, mounted his horse, and 
 rode off. The Captain, having given some directions to the 
 servants, followed him. 
 
 I was both uneasy and impatient to know the fate of 
 Madame Duval, and immediately got out of the chariot to 
 seek her. I desired the footman to show me which way she 
 was gone ; he pointed with his finger, by way of answer, and 
 I saw that he dared not trust his voice to make any other. 
 I walked on, a very quick pace, and soon, to my great con- 
 sternation, perceived the poor lady, seated upright in a ditch. 
 I flew to her, with unfeigned concern at her situation. She 
 was sobbing, nay, almost roaring, and in the utmost agony of 
 rage and terror. As soon as she saw me, she redoubled her 
 cries, but her voice was so broken, I could not understand a 
 word she said. I was so much shocked, that it was with 
 difficulty I forbore exclaiming against the cruelty of the Captain 
 for thus wantonly ill-treating her ; and I could not forgive 
 myself for having passively suffered the deception. I used my 
 utmost endeavours to comfort her, assuring her of our present 
 safety, and begging her to rise and return to the chariot. 
 
 Almost bursting with passion, she pointed to her feet, and 
 with frightful violence she actually beat the ground with her 
 hands. 
 
 I then saw that her feet were tied together with a strong 
 rope, which was fastened to the upper branch of a tree, even 
 with a hedge which ran along the ditch where she sat. I 
 endeavoured to untie the knot, but soon found it was infinitely 
 beyond my strength. I was, therefore, obliged to apply to the 
 footman ; but being very unwilling to add to his mirth, by the 
 sight of Madame Duval's situation, I desired him to lend me 
 a knife ; I returned with it, and cut the rope. Her feet were 
 soon disentangled, and then, though with great difficulty, I 
 assisted her to rise. But what was my astonishment, when, 
 the moment she was up, she hit me a violent slap on the face ! 
 I retreated from her with precipitation and dread, and she then 
 loaded me with reproaches, which, though almost unintelligible, 
 convinced me that she imagined I had voluntarily deserted 
 her ; but she seemed not to have the slightest suspicion that 
 she had not been attacked by real robbers. 
 
 168
 
 EVELINA 
 
 I was so much surprised and confounded at the blow, that, 
 for some time, I suffered her to rave without making any 
 answer ; but her extreme agitation, and real suffering, soon 
 dispelled my anger, which all turned into compassion. I then 
 told her that I had been forcibly detained from following her, 
 and assured her of my real sorrow at her ill usage. 
 
 She began to be somewhat appeased ; and I again entreated 
 her to return to the carriage, or give me leave to order that it 
 should draw up to the place where we stood. She made no 
 answer, till I told her, that the longer we remained still the 
 greater would be the danger of our ride home. Struck with 
 this hint, she suddenly, and with hasty steps, moved forward. 
 
 Her dress was in such disorder, that I was quite sorry to 
 have her figure exposed to the servants, who all of them, in 
 imitation of their master, hold her in derision : however, the 
 disgrace was unavoidable. 
 
 The ditch, happily, was almost quite dry or she must have 
 suffered still more seriously ; yet, so forlorn, so miserable a 
 figure, I never before saw. Her head-dress had fallen off; 
 her linen was torn ; her negligee had not a pin left in it ; her 
 petticoats she was obliged to hold on ; and her shoes were 
 perpetually slipping off. She was covered with dirt, weeds, 
 and filth, and her face was really horrible, for the pomatum 
 and powder from her head, and the dust from the road, were 
 quite pasted on her skin by her tears, which, with her rouge, 
 made so frightful a mixture that she hardly looked human. 
 
 The servants were ready to die with laughter the moment 
 they saw her ; but not all my remonstrances could prevail 
 upon her to get into the carriage, till she had most vehemently 
 reproached them both for not rescuing her. The footman, 
 fixing his eyes on the ground, as if fearful of again trusting 
 himself to look at her, protested that the robbers had vowed 
 they would shoot him if he moved an inch, and that one of 
 them had stayed to watch the chariot while the other carried 
 her off; adding, that the reason of their behaving so barbar- 
 ously, was to revenge our having secured our purses. Not- 
 withstanding her anger, she gave immediate credit to what he 
 said, and really imagined that her want of money had irritated 
 the pretended robbers to treat her with such cruelty. I deter- 
 mined, therefore, to be carefully upon my guard, not to betray 
 the imposition, which could now answer no other purpose, 
 
 169
 
 EVELINA 
 
 than occasioning an irreparable breach between her and the 
 Captain. 
 
 Just as we were seated in the chariot, she discovered the 
 loss which her head had sustained, and called out, ' My God ! 
 what is become of my hair ? — why, the villain has stole all my 
 curls ! ' 
 
 She then ordered the man to run and see if he could find 
 any of them in the ditch. He went, and presently returning, 
 produced a great quantity of hair, in such a nasty condition, 
 that I was amazed she would take it ; and the man, as he 
 delivered it to her, found it impossible to keep his countenance, 
 which she no sooner observed, than all her stormy passions 
 were again raised. She flung the battered curls in his face, 
 saying, ' Sirrah, what do you grin for ? I wish you'd been 
 serv'd so yourself, and you wouldn't have found it no such 
 joke : you are the impudentest fellow ever I see, and if I find 
 you dare grin at me any more, I shall make no ceremony of 
 boxing your ears.' 
 
 Satisfied with the threat, the man hastily retired, and we 
 drove on. 
 
 Her anger now subsiding into grief, she began most 
 sorrowfully to lament her case. ' I believe,' she cried, 'never 
 nobody was so unlucky as I am ! and so here, because I ha'n't 
 had misfortunes enough already, that puppy has made me lose 
 my curls ! — Why, I can : t see nobody without them : — only 
 look at me, — I was never so bad off in my life before. Pan//, 
 if I'd know'd as much, I'd have brought two or three sets with 
 me : but I'd never a thought of such a thing as this.' 
 
 Finding her new somewhat pacified, I ventured to ask an 
 account of her adventure, which I will endeavour to write in 
 her own words. 
 
 ' Why, child, all this misfortune comes of that puppy's 
 making us leave our money behind us ; for as soon as the 
 robber see I did not put nothing in his hands, he lugged me 
 out of the chariot by main force, and I verily thought he'd 
 have murdered me. He was as strong as a lion ; I was no 
 more in his hands than a child. But I believe never nobody 
 was so abused before, for he dragged me down the road, pulling 
 and hauling me all the way, as if I'd no more feeling than a 
 horse. I'm sure I wish I could see that man cut up and 
 quartered alive ! however, he'll come to the gallows, that's one 
 
 170
 
 EVELINA 
 
 good thing. So, as soon as we'd got out of sight of the 
 chariot, — though he needn't have been afraid, for if he'd beat 
 me to a mummy, those cowardly fellows wouldn't have said 
 nothing to it. — So, when I was got there, what does he do, but 
 all of a sudden, he takes me by both the shoulders, and he 
 gives me such a shake ! — Mon Dieu .' I shall never forget it, 
 if I live to be an hundred. I'm sure I daresay I'm out of joint 
 all over. And, though I made as much noise as ever I could, 
 he took no more notice of it than nothing at all, but there he 
 stood, shaking me in that manner, as if he was doing it for a 
 wager. I'm determined, if it costs me all my fortune, I'll see 
 that villain hanged. He shall be found out, if there's e'er a 
 justice in England. So when he had shook me till he was 
 tired, and I felt all over like a jelly, without saying never a 
 word, he takes and pops me into the ditch ! I'm sure I thought 
 he'd have murdered me, as much as I ever thought anything 
 in my life, for he kept bumping me about, as if he thought 
 nothing too bad for me. However, I'm resolved I'll never 
 leave my purse behind me again, the longest day I have to 
 live. So when he couldn't stand over me no longer, he holds 
 out his hands again for my money ; but he was as cunning as 
 could be, for he wouldn't speak a word, because I shouldn't 
 swear to his voice ; however, that sha'n't save him, for I'll 
 swear to him any day in the year, if I can but catch him. So, 
 when I told him I had no money, he fell to jerking me again, 
 just as if he had but that moment begun ! And, after that, he 
 got me close by a tree, and out of his pocket he pulls a great 
 cord ! — It's a wonder I did not swoon away, for as sure as 
 you're alive, he was going to hang me to that tree. I screamed 
 like anything mad, and told him if he would but spare my life 
 I'd never prosecute him, nor tell nobody what he'd done to 
 me : so he stood some time, quite in a brown study, a-thinking 
 what he should do. And so, after that, he forced me to sit 
 down in the ditch, and he tied my feet together, just as you 
 see them, and then, as if he had not done enough, he twitched 
 off my cap, and, without saying nothing, got on his horse, and 
 left me in that condition, thinking', I suppose, that I might lie 
 there and perish.' 
 
 Though this narrative almost compelled me to laugh, yet I 
 was really irritated with the Captain, for carrying his love of 
 tormenting, — sport, he calls it, — to such barbarous and un- 
 
 171
 
 EVELINA 
 
 justifiable extremes. I consoled and soothed her as well as I 
 was able, and told her that, since M. Du Bois had escaped, I 
 hoped when she recovered from her fright, all would end well. 
 
 'Fright, child!' repeated she, 'why that's not half; — I 
 promise you, I wish it was ; but here I'm bruised from top to 
 toe, and it's well if ever I have the right use of my limbs again. 
 However, I'm glad the villain got nothing but his trouble for 
 his pains. But here the worst is to come, for I can't go out, 
 because I've got no curls, and so he'll be escaped before I can 
 get to the Justice to stop him. I'm resolved I'll tell Lady 
 Howard how her man served me, for if he hadn't made me 
 fling 'em away, I daresay I could have pinned them up well 
 enough for the country.' 
 
 ' Perhaps Lady Howard may be able to lend you a cap that 
 will wear without them.' 
 
 ' Lady Howard, indeed ! why, do you think I'd wear one of 
 her dowdies ? No, I'll promise you, I sha'n't put on no such 
 disguisement. It's the unluckiest thing in the world that I did 
 not make the man pick up the curls again ; but he put me in 
 such a passion, I could not think of nothing. I know I can't 
 get none at Howard Grove for love nor money, for of all the 
 stupid places ever I see, that Howard Grove is the worst : 
 there's never no getting nothing one wants.' 
 
 This sort of conversation lasted till we arrived at our journey's 
 end ; and then, a new distress occurred : Madame Duval was 
 eager to speak to Lady Howard and Mrs. Mirvan, and to relate 
 her misfortunes, but she could not endure that Sir Clement or 
 the Captain should see her in such disorder, for she said they 
 were so ill-natured, that instead of pitying her, they would only 
 make a jest of her disasters. She therefore sent me first into 
 the house, to wait for an opportunity of their being out of the 
 way, that she might steal upstairs unobserved. In this I 
 succeeded, as the gentlemen thought it most prudent not to 
 seem watching for her ; though they both contrived to divert 
 themselves with peeping at her as she passed. 
 
 She went immediately to bed, where she had her supper. 
 Lady Howard and Mrs. Mirvan both of them very kindly sat 
 with her, and listened to her tale with compassionate attention, 
 while Miss Mirvan and I retired to our own room, where I 
 was very glad to end the troubles of the day in a comfortable 
 conversation. 
 
 172
 
 EVELINA 
 
 The Captain's raptures, during supper, at the success of his 
 plan, were boundless. I spoke, afterwards, to Mrs. Mirvan, 
 with the openness which her kindness encourages, and begged 
 her to remonstrate with him upon the cruelty of tormenting 
 Madame Duval so causelessly. She promised to take the first 
 opportunity of starting the subject, but said he was, at present, 
 so much elated that he would not listen to her with any patience. 
 However, should he make any new efforts to molest her, I can 
 by no means consent to be passive. Had I imagined he would 
 have been so violent, I would have risked his anger in her 
 defence much sooner. 
 
 She has kept her bed all day, and declares she is almost 
 bruised to death. 
 
 Adieu, dear Sir. What a long letter have I written I I 
 could almost fancy I sent it you from London ! 
 
 LETTER XXXIV 
 
 EVELINA IN CONTINUATION 
 
 Howard Grove, May 15M. 
 
 This insatiable Captain, if left to himself, would not, I 
 believe, rest till he had tormented Madame Duval into a fever. 
 He seems to have no delight but in terrifying or provoking 
 her, and all his thoughts apparently turn upon inventing such 
 methods as may do it most effectually. 
 
 She had her breakfast again in bed yesterday morning ; but 
 during ours, the Captain, with a very significant look at Sir 
 Clement, gave us to understand that he thought she had now 
 rested long enough to bear the hardships of a fresh campaign. 
 
 His meaning was obvious, and, therefore, I resolved to 
 endeavour immediately to put a stop to his intended exploits. 
 When breakfast was over, I followed Mrs. Mirvan out of the 
 parlour, and begged her to lose no time in pleading the cause 
 of Madame Duval with the Captain. ' My love/ answered 
 she, ' I have already expostulated with him ; but all I can say 
 is fruitless, while his favourite Sir Clement contrives to urge 
 him on.' 
 
 'Then I will go and speak to Sir Clement, 1 said I, 'for I 
 know he will desist, if I request him.' 
 
 J 73
 
 EVELINA 
 
 ' Have a care, my dear ! ' said she, smiling, ' it is sometimes 
 dangerous to make requests to men who are too desirous of 
 receiving them.' 
 
 ' Well then, my dear Madam, will you give me leave to 
 speak myself to the Captain ? ' 
 
 'Willingly; nay, I will accompany you to him.' 
 
 I thanked her, and we went to seek him. He was walking 
 in the garden with Sir Clement. Airs. Mirvan most obligingly 
 made an opening for my purpose, by saying, ' Mr. Mirvan, I 
 have brought a petitioner with me.' 
 
 ' Why, what's the matter now ? ' cried he. 
 
 I was fearful of making him angry, and stammered very 
 much, when I told him, I hoped he had no new plan for 
 alarming Madame Duval. 
 
 ' New plan ! * cried he, ' why, you don't suppose the old one 
 would do again, do you ? Not but what it was a very good 
 one, only I doubt she wouldn't bite.' 
 
 'Indeed, Sir,' said I, 'she has already suffered too much, 
 and I hope you will pardon me, if I take the liberty of telling 
 you, that I think it my duty to do all in my power to prevent 
 her being again so much terrified.' 
 
 A sullen gloominess instantly clouded his face, and, turning 
 short from me, he said, I might do as I pleased, but that I 
 should much sooner repent than repair my officiousness. 
 
 I was too much disconcerted at this rebuff to attempt 
 making any answer, and, finding that Sir Clement warmly 
 espoused my cause, I walked away, and left them to discuss 
 the point together. 
 
 Mrs. Mirvan, who never speaks to the Captain when he is 
 out of humour, was glad to follow me, and with her usual 
 sweetness, made a thousand apologies for her husband's ill- 
 manners. 
 
 When I left her, I went to Madame Duval, who was just 
 risen, and employed in examining the clothes she had on the 
 day of her ill-usage. 
 
 ' Here's a sight ! ' cried she. ' Come here, child, — only look 
 — Pardt, so long as I've lived, I never see so much before ! 
 Why, all my things are spoilt, and, what's worse, my sacque 
 was as good as new. Here's the second negligee I've had 
 used in this manner ! — I am sure I was a fool to put it on, in 
 such a lonesome place as this ; however, if I stay here these 
 
 '74
 
 (j7yjfurki*ir^\ 
 
 ■ Mr. Mi>-jan, / have brought a petitioner. '
 
 EVELINA 
 
 ten years, I'll never put on another good gown, that I'm 
 resolved.' 
 
 ' Will you let the maid try if she can iron it out, or clean it, 
 Ma'am ? ' 
 
 ' No, she'll only make bad worse. — But look here, now, 
 here's a cloak ! Mon Dieu ! why, it looks like a dish-clout I 
 Of all the unluckinesses that ever I met, this is the worst! for, do 
 you know, I bought it but the day before I left Paris ? — Besides, 
 into the bargain, my cap's quite gone ; where the villain 
 twitched it I don't know, but I never see no more of it from 
 that time to this. Now you must know this was the be- 
 comingest cap I had in the world, for I've never another with 
 pink ribbon in it ; and, to tell you the truth, if I hadn't thought 
 to have seen M. Du Bois, I'd no more have put it on than I'd 
 have flown ; for as to what one wears in such a stupid place as 
 this, it signifies no more than nothing at all.' 
 
 She then told me that she had been thinking all night of a 
 contrivance to hinder the Captain from finding out her loss of 
 curls, which was, having a large gauze handkerchief pinned 
 on her head as a hood, and saying she had the toothache. 
 
 ' To tell you the truth,' added she, ' I believe that Captain 
 is one of the worst men in the world ; he's always making a 
 joke of me ; and as to his being a gentleman, he has no more 
 manners than a bear, for he's always upon the grin when one's 
 in distress ; and, I declare, I'd rather be done anything to 
 than laugh'd at, for, to my mind, it's one or other the dis- 
 agreeablest thing in the world.' 
 
 Mrs. Mirvan, I found, had been endeavouring to dissuade 
 her from the design she had formed of having recourse to the 
 law, in order to find out the supposed robbers ; for she dreads 
 a discovery of the Captain, during Madame Duval's stay at 
 Howard Grove, as it could not fail being productive of infinite 
 commotion. She has, therefore, taken great pains to show 
 the inutility of applying to justice, unless she were more able 
 to describe the offenders against whom she would appear, and 
 has assured her, that as she neither heard their voices, nor 
 saw their faces, she cannot possibly swear to their persons, or 
 obtain any redress. 
 
 Madame Duval, in telling me this, extremely lamented 
 her hard fate, that she was thus prevented from revenging 
 her injuries ; which, however, she vowed she would not be 
 
 176
 
 EVELINA 
 
 persuaded to pocket tamely, ' because,' added she, ' if such 
 villains as these are let to have their own way, and nobody 
 takes no notice of their impudence, they'll make no more ado 
 than nothing at all of tying people in ditches, and such things 
 as that : however, I shall consult with M. Du Bois, as soon as 
 I can ferret out where he's hid himself. I'm sure I've a right 
 to his advice, for it's all along of his gaping about at the 
 Tower that I've met with these misfortunes.' 
 
 ' M. Du Bois,' said I, 'will, I am sure, be very sorry when 
 he hears what has happened.' 
 
 ' And what good will that do now ? — that won't unspoil all 
 my clothes ; I can tell him, I a'n't much obliged to him, though 
 it's no fault of his, — yet it i'n't the less provokinger for that. 
 I'm sure, if he had been there, to have seen me served in that 
 manner, and put neck and heels into a ditch, he'd no more 
 have thought it was me than the Pope of Rome. I'll promise 
 you, whatever you may think of it, I sha'n't have no rest, night 
 nor day, till I find out that rogue.' 
 
 ' I have no doubt, Madam, but you will soon discover 
 him.' 
 
 l Pardi, if I do I'll hang him, as sure as fate ! — but what's 
 the oddest, is, that he should take such a special spite against 
 me, above all the rest ! it was as much for nothing as could 
 be, for I don't know what I had done, so particular bad, to be 
 used in that manner: I'm sure, I hadn't given him no offence, 
 as I know of, for I never see his face all the time ; and as to 
 screaming a little, I think it's very hard if one mustn't do 
 such a thing as that, when one's put in fear of one's life.' 
 
 During this conversation, she endeavoured to adjust her 
 head-dress, but could not at all please herself. Indeed, had I 
 not been present, I should have thought it impossible for a 
 woman at her time of life to be so very difficult in regard to 
 dress. What she may have in view, I cannot imagine, but 
 the labour of the toilette seems the chief business of her life. 
 
 When I left her, in my way downstairs, I met Sir Clement, 
 who, with great earnestness, said he must not be denied the 
 honour of a moment's conversation with me ; and then, without 
 waiting for an answer, he led me to the garden, at the door 
 of which, however, I absolutely insisted upon stopping. 
 
 He seemed very serious, and said, in a grave tone of voice. 
 At length, Miss Anvillc, I flatter myself I have hit upon an 
 177 N
 
 She endeavoured to adjust her head-dress.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 expedient that will oblige you, and therefore, though it is death 
 to myself, I will put it in practice.' 
 
 I begged him to explain himself. 
 
 ' I saw your desire of saving Madame Duval, and scarce 
 could I refrain giving the brutal Captain my real opinion of 
 his savage conduct ; but I am unwilling to quarrel with him, 
 lest I should be denied entrance into a house which you 
 inhabit : I have been endeavouring to prevail with him to give 
 up his absurd new scheme, but I find him impenetrable : — I 
 have therefore determined to make a pretence for suddenly 
 leaving this place, dear as it is to me, and containing all I 
 most admire and adore ; — and I will stay in town till the 
 violence of this boobyish humour is abated.' 
 
 He stopped ; but I was silent, for I knew not what I ought 
 to say. He took my hand, which he pressed to his lips, 
 saying, 'And must I then, Miss Anville, must I quit you — 
 sacrifice voluntarily my greatest felicity, — and yet not be 
 honoured with one word, one look of approbation ? ' 
 
 I withdrew my hand, and said, with a half laugh, ' You 
 know so well, Sir Clement, the value of the favours you confer, 
 that it would be superfluous for me to point it out.' 
 
 'Charming, charming girl ! how does your wit, your under- 
 standing rise upon me daily ! and must I, can I part with you ? 
 — will no other method ' 
 
 ' O, Sir, do you so soon repent the good office you had 
 planned for Madame Duval ? ' 
 
 ' For Madame Duval ! — cruel creature, and will you not 
 even suffer me to place to your account the sacrifice I am 
 about to make ? ' 
 
 'You must place it, Sir, to what account you please ; but I 
 am too much in haste now to stay here any longer.' 
 
 And then I would have left him, but he held me, and, 
 rather impatiently, said, ' If, then, I cannot be so happy as to 
 oblige you, Miss Anville, you must not be surprised should I 
 seek to oblige myself. If my scheme is not honoured with 
 your approbation, for which alone it was formed, why should I, 
 to my own infinite dissatisfaction, pursue it?' 
 
 We were then, for a few minutes, both silent ; I was really 
 unwilling he should give up a plan which would so effectually 
 break into the Captain's designs, and, at the same time, save 
 me the pain of disobliging him ; and I should instantly and 
 
 *79
 
 EVELINA 
 
 thankfully have accepted his offered civility, had not Mrs. 
 Mirvan's caution made me fearful. However, when he pressed 
 me to speak, I said, in an ironical voice, ' I had thought, Sir, 
 that the very strong sense you have yourself of the favour you 
 propose to me, would sufficiently have repaid you, but, as I 
 was mistaken, I must thank you myself. And now,' making a 
 low curtsy, ' I hope, Sir, you are satisfied.' 
 
 ' Loveliest of thy sex ' he began, but I forced myself 
 
 from him, and ran upstairs. 
 
 Soon after, Miss Mirvan told me that Sir Clement had just 
 received a letter, which obliged him instantly to leave the 
 Grove, and that be had actually ordered a chaise. I then 
 acquainted her with the real state of the affair. Indeed, I 
 conceal nothing from her ; she is so gentle and sweet-tempered, 
 that it gives me great pleasure to place an entire confidence 
 in her. 
 
 At dinner, I must own, we all missed him ; for though the 
 rlightiness of his behaviour to me, when we are by ourselves, 
 is very distressing, yet, in large companies, and general con- 
 versation, he is extremely entertaining and agreeable. As to 
 the Captain, he has been so much chagrined at his departure, 
 that he has scarce spoken a word since he went : but Madame 
 Duval, who made her first public appearance since her accident, 
 was quite in raptures that she escaped seeing him. 
 
 The money, which we left at the farm-house, has been 
 returned to us. What pains the Captain must have taken to 
 arrange and manage the adventures which he chose we should 
 meet with ! Vet he must certainly be discovered, for Madame 
 Duval is already very much perplexed, at having received a 
 letter this morning from M. Du Bois, in which he makes no 
 mention of his imprisonment. However, she has so little 
 suspicion, that she imputes his silence upon the subject to his 
 fears that the letter might be intercepted. 
 
 Not one opportunity could I meet with while Sir Clement 
 was here, to inquire after his friend Lord Orville : but I think 
 it was strange he should never mention him unasked. Indeed, 
 I rather wonder that Mrs. Mirvan herself did not introduce 
 the subject, for she always seemed particularly attentive to 
 him. 
 
 And now, once more, all my thoughts involuntarily turn 
 upon the letter I so soon expect from Paris. This visit of Sir 
 
 1 80
 
 EVELINA 
 
 Clement has, however, somewhat diverted my fears, and 
 therefore I am very glad he made it at this time. Adieu, my 
 dear Sir. 
 
 LETTER XXXV 
 
 SIR JOHN BELMONT TO LADV HOWARD 
 
 Paris, May n. 
 
 Madam, — I have this moment the honour of your Lady- 
 ship's letter, and I will not wait another, before I return an 
 answer. 
 
 It seldom happens that a man, though extolled as a saint, is 
 really without blemish ; or that another, though reviled as a 
 devil, is really without humanity. Perhaps the time is not 
 very distant, when I may have the honour to convince your 
 Ladyship of this truth, in regard to Mr. Villars and myself. 
 
 As to the young lady, whom Mr. Villars so obligingly 
 proposes presenting to me, I wish her all the happiness to 
 which, by your Ladyship's account, she seems entitled ; and. 
 if she has a third part of the merit of her to whom you compare 
 her, I doubt not but Mr. Villars will be more successful in 
 every other application he may make for her advantage, than 
 he can ever be in any with which he may be pleased to favour 
 me. — I have the honour to be, Madam, your Ladyship's most 
 humble and most obedient servant, John Belmont. 
 
 LETTER XXXVI 
 
 EVELINA TO THE REV. MR. VILLARS 
 
 Howard Grove, May 18. 
 
 Well, my dear Sir, all is now over ! the letter so anxiously 
 expected is at length arrived, and my doom is fixed. The 
 various feelings which oppress me, I have not language to 
 describe ; nor need I, — you know my heart, you have yourself 
 formed it, — and its sensations upon this occasion you may 
 but too readily imagine. 
 
 181
 
 EVELINA 
 
 Outcast as I am, and rejected for ever by him to whom I 
 of right belong, — shall I now implore your continued protec- 
 tion ? — no, no, — I will not offend your generous heart, which, 
 open to distress, has no wish but to relieve it, with an applica- 
 tion that would seem to imply a doubt. I am more secure 
 than ever of your kindness, since you now know upon that is 
 my sole dependence. 
 
 I endeavour to bear this stroke with composure, and in 
 such a manner as if I had already received your counsel and 
 consolation. Yet, at times, my emotions are almost too much 
 for me. O, Sir, what a letter for a parent to write ! must I 
 not myself be deaf to the voice of Nature, if I could endure to 
 be thus absolutely abandoned, without regret ? I dare not 
 even to you, nor would I, could I help it, to myself, acknow- 
 ledge all that I think ; for, indeed, I have sometimes sentiments 
 upon this rejection, which my strongest sense of duty can 
 scarcely correct. Yet suffer me to ask, — might not this 
 answer have been softened ? — was it not enough to disclaim 
 me for ever, without treating me with contempt, and wounding 
 me with derision ? 
 
 But, while I am thus thinking of myself, I forget how much 
 more he is the object of sorrow than I am ! Alas, what 
 amends can he make himself, for the anguish he is hoarding 
 up for time to come ! My heart bleeds for him, whenever 
 this reflection occurs to me. 
 
 What is said of you, my protector, my friend, my bene- 
 factor ! — I dare not trust myself to comment upon. Gracious 
 Heaven ! what a return for goodness so unparalleled ! 
 
 I would fain endeavour to divert my thoughts from this 
 subject, but even that is not in my power ; for, afflicting as 
 this letter is to me, I find that it will not be allowed to con- 
 clude the affair, though it does all my expectations : for 
 Madame Duval has determined not to let it rest here. She 
 heard the letter in great wrath, and protested she would not 
 be so easily answered ; she regretted her facility in having 
 been prevailed upon to yield the direction of this affair to 
 those who knew not how to manage it, and vowed she would 
 herself undertake and conduct it in future. 
 
 It is in vain that I have pleaded against her resolution, and 
 besought her to forbear an attack, where she has nothing to 
 expect but resentment ; especially as there seems to be a hint, 
 
 182
 
 EVELINA 
 
 that Lady Howard will one day be more openly dealt with : 
 she will not hear me ; she is furiously bent upon a project 
 which is terrible to think of, — for she means to go herself 
 to Paris, take me with her, and there, face to face, demand 
 justice ! 
 
 How to appease or to persuade her, I know not ; but for 
 the universe would I not be dragged, in such a manner, to an 
 interview so awful, with a parent I have never yet beheld ! 
 
 Lady Howard and Mrs. Mirvan are both of them infinitely 
 shocked at the present situation of affairs, and they seem to be 
 even more kind to me than ever ; and my dear Maria, who is 
 the friend of my heart, uses her utmost efforts to console me, 
 and, when she fails in her design, with still greater kindness, 
 she sympathises in my sorrow. 
 
 I very much rejoice, however, that Sir Clement Willoughby 
 had deft us before this letter arrived. I am sure the general 
 confusion of the house would, otherwise, have betrayed to him 
 the whole of a tale which I now, more than ever, wish to have 
 buried in oblivion. 
 
 Lady Howard thinks I ought not to disoblige Madame 
 Duval, yet she acknowledges the impropriety of my accom- 
 panying her abroad upon such an enterprise. Indeed, I would 
 rather die than force myself into his presence. But so 
 vehement is Madame Duval, that she would instantly have 
 compelled me to attend her to town, in her way to Paris, had 
 not Lady Howard so far exerted herself, as to declare she 
 could by no means consent to my quitting her house till she 
 gave me up to you, by whose permission I had entered it. 
 
 She was extremely angry at this denial ; and the Captain, 
 by his sneers and raillery, so much increased her rage, that 
 she has positively declared, should your next letter dispute her 
 authority to guide me by her own pleasure, she will, without 
 hesitation, make a journey to Berry Hill, and teach you to 
 know who she is. 
 
 Should she put this threat in execution, nothing could give 
 me greater uneasiness, for her violence and volubility would 
 almost distract you. 
 
 Unable as I am to act for myself, or to judge what conduct 
 I ought to pursue, how grateful do I feel myself, that I have 
 such a guide and director to counsel and instruct me as 
 yourself ! 
 
 183
 
 EVELINA 
 
 Adieu, my dearest Sir ! Heaven, J trust, will never let me 
 live to be repulsed and derided by you, to whom I may now 
 sign myself — Wholly your Evelina. 
 
 LETTER XXXVII 
 
 MR. VILLARS TO EVELINA 
 
 Berry Hill, May 21. 
 
 Let not my Evelina be depressed by a stroke of fortune for 
 which she is not responsible. Xo breach of duty, on your 
 part, has incurred the unkindness which has been shown you ; 
 nor have you, by any act of imprudence, provoked either 
 censure or reproach. Let me entreat you, therefore, my 
 dearest child, to support yourself with that courage which your 
 innocency ought to inspire ; and let all the affliction you allow 
 yourself, be for him only, who, not having that support, must 
 one day be but too severely sensible how much he wants it. 
 
 The hint thrown out concerning myself, is wholly unintel- 
 ligible to me : my heart, I dare own, fully acquits me of vice, 
 but without ble))iish I have never ventured to pronounce myself. 
 However, it seems his intention to be hereafter more explicit, 
 and then, — should anything appear, that has on my part con- 
 tributed to those misfortunes we lament, let me, at least, say, 
 that the most partial of my friends cannot be so much astonished 
 as I shall myself be at such a discovery. 
 
 The mention, also, of any future applications I may make, 
 is equally beyond my comprehension. But I will not dwell 
 upon a subject which almost compels from me reflections that 
 cannot but be wounding to a heart so formed for filial tender- 
 ness as my Evelina's. There is an air of mystery throughout 
 the letter, the explanation of which I will await in silence. 
 
 The scheme of Madame Duval is such as might be reason- 
 ably expected from a woman so little inured to disappointment, 
 and so totally incapable of considering the delicacy of your 
 situation. Your averseness to her plan gives me pleasure, for 
 it exactly corresponds with my own. Why will she not make 
 the journey she projects by herself? She would not have even 
 the wish of an opposition to encounter. And then, once more, 
 
 184
 
 EVELINA 
 
 might my child and myself be left to the quiet enjoyment of 
 that peaceful happiness, which she alone has interrupted. As 
 to her coming hither, I could, indeed, dispense with such a 
 visit ; but, if she will not be satisfied with my refusal by letter, 
 I must submit to the task of giving it her in person. 
 
 My impatience for your return is increased by your account 
 of Sir Clement Willoughby's visit to Howard Grove. I am 
 but little surprised at the perseverance of his assiduities to 
 interest you in his favour ; but I am very much hurt that you 
 should be exposed to addresses, which, by their privacy, have 
 an air that shocks me. You cannot, my love, be too circum- 
 spect ; the slightest carelessness, on your part, will be taken 
 advantage of, by a man of his disposition. It is not sufficient 
 for you to be reserved ; his conduct even calls for your resent- 
 ment : and should he again, as will doubtless be his endeavour, 
 contrive to solicit your favour in private, let your disdain and 
 displeasure be so marked, as to constrain a* change in his 
 behaviour. Though, indeed, should his visit be repeated 
 while you remain at the Grove, Lady Howard must pardon me 
 if I shorten yours. 
 
 Adieu, my child. You will always make my respects to the 
 hospitable family to which we are so much obliged. 
 
 LETTER XXXVIII 
 
 MR. VILLARS TO LADY HOWARD 
 
 Berry Hill, May 27. 
 
 Dear Madam, — I believe your Ladyship will not be 
 surprised at hearing- I have had a visit from Madame Duval, 
 as I doubt not her having made known her intention before 
 she left Howard Grove. I would gladly have excused myself 
 this meeting, could I have avoided it decently ; but, after so 
 long a journey, it was not possible to refuse her admittance. 
 
 She told me that she came to Berry Hill in consequence 
 of a letter I had sent to her granddaughter, in which I had 
 forbid her going to Paris. Very roughly she then called me 
 to account for the authority which I assumed ; and, had I 
 been disposed to have argued with her, she would very angrily 
 
 >S5
 
 Skc called »w to account very roughly.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 have disputed the right by which I used it. But I declined 
 all debating. I therefore listened very quietly, till she had so 
 much fatigued herself with talking, that she was glad, in her 
 turn, to be silent. And then I begged to know the purport of 
 her visit. 
 
 She answered, that she came to make me relinquish the 
 power I had usurped over her granddaughter, and assured me 
 she would not quit the place till she succeeded. 
 
 But I will not trouble your Ladyship with the particulars of 
 this disagreeable conversation ; nor should I, but on account 
 of the result, have chosen so unpleasant a subject for your 
 perusal. However, I will be as concise as I possibly can, that 
 the better occupations of your Ladyship's time may be the less 
 impeded. 
 
 When she found me inexorable in refusing Evelina's attending 
 her to Paris, she peremptorily insisted that she should, at 
 least, live with her in London till Sir John Belmont's return. 
 I remonstrated against this scheme with all the energy in my 
 power, but the contest was vain ; she lost her patience, and I 
 my time. She declared that if I was resolute in opposing her, 
 she would instantly make a will, in which she would leave all 
 her fortune to strangers, though, otherwise, she intended her 
 granddaughter for her sole heiress. 
 
 To me, I own, this threat seemed of little consequence ; I 
 have long accustomed myself to think, that, with a competency, 
 of which she is sure, my child might be as happy as in the 
 possession of millions : but the incertitude of her future fate 
 deters me from following implicitly the dictates of my present 
 judgment. The connections she may hereafter form, the style 
 of life for which she may be destined, and the future family to 
 which she may belong, are considerations which give but too 
 much weight to the menaces of Madame Duval. In short, 
 Madam, after a discourse infinitely tedious, I was obliged, 
 though very reluctantly, to compromise with this ungovernable 
 woman, by consenting that Evelina should pass one month 
 with her. 
 
 I never made a concession with so bad a grace, or so much 
 regret. The violence and vulgarity of this woman, her total 
 ignorance of propriety, the family to which she is related, and 
 the company she is likely to keep, are objections so forcible to 
 her having the charge of this dear child, that nothing less than 
 
 187
 
 EVELINA 
 
 my diffidence of the right I have of depriving her of so large a 
 fortune, would have induced me to listen to her proposal. 
 Indeed we parted, at last, equally discontented ; she, at what 
 I had refused ; I, at what I had granted. 
 
 It now only remains for me to return your Ladyship my 
 humble acknowledgments for the kindness which you have so 
 liberally shown to my ward : and to beg you would have the 
 goodness to part with her when Madame Duval thinks proper 
 to claim the promise which she has extorted from me. — I am, 
 dear Madam, etc. Arthur Villars. 
 
 LETTER XXXIX 
 
 MR. VILLARS TO EVELINA 
 
 Berry Hill, May 28. 
 
 With a reluctance which occasions me inexpressible un- 
 easiness, I have been almost compelled to consent that my 
 Evelina should quit the protection of the hospitable and 
 respectable Lady Howard, and accompany Madame Duval to 
 a city which I had hoped she would never again have entered. 
 But alas! my dear child, we are the slaves of custom, the dupes 
 of prejudice, and dare not stem the torrent of an opposing 
 world, even though our judgments condemn our compliance ! 
 however, since the die is cast, we must endeavour to make the 
 best of it. 
 
 You will have occasion, in the course of the month you are 
 to pass with Madame Duval, for all the circumspection and 
 prudence you can call to your aid : she will not, I know, 
 propose anything to you which she thinks wrong herself; but 
 you must learn not only to judge but to act for yourself : if any 
 schemes are started, any engagements made, which your 
 understanding represents to you as improper, exert yourself 
 resolutely in avoiding them, and do not, by a too passive 
 facility, risk the censure of the world, or your own future 
 regret. 
 
 You cannot too assiduously attend to Madame Duval 
 herself; but I would wish you to mix as little as possible with 
 her associates, who are not likely to be among those whose 
 acquaintance would reflect credit upon you. Remember, my 
 
 1S8
 
 EVELINA 
 
 dear Evelina, nothing is so delicate as the reputation of a 
 woman : it is, at once, the most beautiful and most brittle of 
 all human -things. 
 
 Adieu, my beloved child ; I shall be but ill at ease till this 
 month is elapsed. A. V. 
 
 LETTER XL 
 
 EVELINA TO THE REV. MR. V1LLARS 
 
 London, Jum 6. 
 
 Once more, my dearest Sir, I write to you from this great 
 city. Yesterday morning, with the truest concern, I quitted 
 the dear inhabitants of Howard Grove, and most impatiently 
 shall I count the days till I see them again. Lady Howard 
 and Mrs. Mirvan took leave of me with the most flattering 
 kindness ; but indeed I knew not how to part with Maria, 
 whose own apparent sorrow redoubled mine. She made me 
 promise to send her a letter every post. And I shall write to 
 her with the same freedom, and almost the same confidence, 
 you allow me to make use of to yourself. 
 
 The Captain was very civil to me, but he wrangled with 
 poor Madame Duval to the last moment ; and, taking me aside, 
 just before we got into the chaise, he said, ' Hark'ee, Miss 
 Anville, I've a favour for to ask of you, which is this : that you 
 will write us word how the old gentlewoman finds herself when 
 she sees it was all a trick : and what the French lubber says to 
 it, and all about it.' 
 
 I answered that I would obey him, though I was very 
 little pleased with the commission, which, to me, was highly 
 improper ; but he will either treat me as an itiforvier, or make 
 me a party in his frolic. 
 
 As soon as we drove away, Madame Duval, with much 
 satisfaction, exclaimed ' Dieti mcrci, we've got off at last ! I'm 
 sure I never desire to see that place again. It's a wonder I've 
 got away alive ; for I believe I've had the worst luck ever was 
 known, from the time I set my foot upon the threshold. I 
 know I wish I'd never a-go.ne. Besides, into the bargain, it's 
 the most dullest place in all Christendom : there's never no 
 diversions, nor nothing at all.' 
 
 189
 
 The Captain took me aside.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 Then she bewailed M. Du Bois, concerning whose adven- 
 tures she continued to make various conjectures during the 
 rest of our journey. 
 
 When I asked her what part of London she should reside 
 in, she told me that Mr. Branghton was to meet us at an inn, 
 and would conduct us to a lodging. Accordingly, we pro- 
 ceeded to a house in Bishopsgate Street, and were led by a 
 waiter into a room where we found Mr. Branghton. 
 
 He received us very civilly, but seemed rather surprised at 
 seeing me, saying, ' Why, I didn't think of your bringing Miss ; 
 however, she's very welcome.' 
 
 1 I'll tell you how it was,' said Madame Duval : 'you must 
 know I've a mind to take the girl to Paris, that she may see 
 something of the world, and improve herself a little ; besides, 
 I've another reason, that you and I will talk more about ; but 
 do you know, that meddling old parson, as I told you of, would 
 not let her go : however, I'm resolved I'll be even with him, 
 for I shall take her on with me, without saying never a word 
 more to nobody.' 
 
 I started at this intimation, which very much surprised me. 
 But I am very glad she has discovered her intention, as I shall 
 be carefully upon my guard not to venture from town with her. 
 
 Mr. Branghton then hoped we had passed our time agree- 
 ably in the country. 
 
 'O Lord, Cousin,' cried she, 'I've been the miserablest 
 creature in the world ! I'm sure all the horses in London 
 sha'n't drag me into the country again of one while : why, how 
 do you think I've been served ? — only guess.' 
 
 ' Indeed, Cousin, I can't pretend to do that.' 
 
 'Why, then I'll tell you. Do you know, I've been robbed ? 
 — that is, the villain would have robbed me if he could, only 
 I'd secured all my money.' 
 
 'Why then, Cousin, I think your loss can't have been very 
 great.' 
 
 ' O Lord, you don't know what you're a-saying ; you're 
 talking in the unthinkingest manner in the world : why, it w;is 
 all along of not having no money, that I met with that 
 misfortune.' 
 
 ' How's that. Cousin ? I don't see what great misfortune 
 you can have met with, if you'd secured all your money.' 
 
 'That's because you don't know nothing of the matter: for 
 191
 
 EVELINA 
 
 there the villain came to the chaise, and because we hadn't got 
 nothing to give him, though he'd no more right to our money 
 than the man in the moon, yet, do you know, he fell into the 
 greatest passion ever you see, and abused me in such a m?nner, 
 and put me in a ditch, and got a rope o' purpose to hang me, 
 — and I'm sure, if that wasn't misfortune enough, why I don't 
 know what is.' 
 
 ' This is a hard case indeed, Cousin. But why don't you go 
 to Justice Fielding?' 
 
 ' O, as to that, I'm a-going to him directly ; but only I want 
 first to see poor M. Du Bois ; for the oddest thing of all is, that 
 he has wrote to me, and never said nothing of where he is, nor 
 what's become of him, nor nothing else.' 
 
 ' M. Du Bois ! why, he's at my house at this very time.' 
 
 ' M. Du Bois at your house ! well, I declare this is the 
 surprisingest part of all ! however, I assure you, I think he 
 might have corned for me, as well as you, considering what I 
 have gone through on his account ; for, to tell you the truth, it 
 was all along of him that I met with that accident ; so I don't 
 take it very kind of him, I promise you.' 
 
 ' Well but, Cousin, tell me some of the particulars of this 
 affair.' 
 
 'As to the particulars, I'm sure they'd make your hair stand 
 on end to hear them ; however, the beginning of it all was 
 through the fault of M. Du Bois : but I'll assure you, he may 
 take care of himself in future, since he don't so much as come 
 to see if I'm dead or alive ; — but there, I went for him to a 
 justice of peace, and rode all out of the way, and did everything 
 in the world, and was used worser than a dog, and all for the 
 sake of serving of him, and now, you see, he don't so much 
 — well, I was a fool for my pains, — however, he may get 
 somebody else to be treated so another time, for if he's taken 
 up every day in the week, I'll never go after him no more.' 
 
 This occasioned an explanation, in the course of which 
 Madame Duval, to her utter amazement, heard that M. Du 
 Bois had never left London during her absence ! nor did Mr. 
 Branghton believe that he had ever been to the Tower, or met 
 with any kind of accident. 
 
 Almost instantly, the whole truth of the transaction seemed 
 to rush upon her mind, and her wrath was inconceivably violent. 
 She asked me a thousand questions in a breath, but, fortunately, 
 
 192
 
 EVELINA 
 
 was too vehement to attend to my embarrassment, which must, 
 otherwise, have betrayed my knowledge of the deceit. Re- 
 venge was her first wish, and she vowed she would go the next 
 morning to Justice Fielding, and inquire what punishment she 
 might lawfully inflict upon the Captain for his assault. 
 
 I believe we were an hour in Bishopsgate Street, before 
 poor Madame Duval could allow anything to be mentioned 
 but her own story ; at length, however, Mr. Branghton told 
 her that M. Du Bois, and all his own family, were waiting for 
 her at his house. A hackney-coach was then called, and we 
 proceeded to Snow Hill. 
 
 Mr. Branghton's house is small and inconvenient, though 
 his shop, which takes in all the ground floor, is large and 
 commodious. I believe I told you before that he is a silver- 
 smith. 
 
 We were conducted up two pair of stairs ; for the dining- 
 room, Mr. Branghton told us, was let. His two daughters, 
 their brother, M. Du Bois, and a young man, were at tea. 
 They had waited some time for Madame Duval, but I found 
 they had not any expectation that I should accompany her ; 
 and the young ladies, I believe, were rather more surprised 
 than pleased when I made my appearance ; for they seemed 
 hurt that I should see their apartment. Indeed, I would 
 willingly have saved them that pain, had it been in my power. 
 
 The first person who saw me was M. Du Bois : i A/i, Mon 
 DieuP exclaimed he, ' voila Mademoiselle P 
 
 'Goodness,' cried young Branghton, ' if there isn't Miss!' 
 
 'Lord, so there is,' said Miss Polly; 'well, I'm sure I 
 should never have dreamed of Miss's coming.' 
 
 'Nor I neither, I'm sure,' cried Miss Branghton, 'or else I 
 would not have been in this room to see her ; I'm quite 
 ashamed about it, — only not thinking of seeing anybody but 
 my aunt — however, Tom, it's all your fault, for you know very 
 well I wanted to borrow Mr. Smith's room, only you were so 
 grumpy you would not let me.' 
 
 ' Lord, what signifies ? ' said the brother, ' I dare be sworn 
 Miss has been up two pair of stairs before now ; — Ha'n't you, 
 Miss ?' 
 
 I begged that I might not give them the least disturbance, 
 and assured them that I had not any choice in regard to what 
 room we sat in. 
 
 193 O
 
 EVELINA 
 
 ' Well,' said Miss Polly, ' when you come next, Miss, we'll 
 have Mr. Smith's room ; and it's a very pretty one, and only 
 up one pair of stairs, and nicely furnished, and everything.' 
 
 'To say the truth,' said Miss Branghton, 'I thought that 
 my cousin would not, upon any account, have come to town in 
 the summertime; for it's not at all the fashion,- — so, to be 
 sure, thinks I, she'll stay till September, when the play-houses 
 open.' 
 
 This was my reception, which I believe you will not call a 
 very cordial one. Madame Duval, who, after having severely 
 reprimanded M. Du Bois for his negligence, was just entering 
 upon the story of her misfortunes, now wholly engaged the 
 company. 
 
 M. Du Bois listened to her with a look of the utmost horror, 
 repeatedly lifting up his eyes and hands, and exclaiming, ' O 
 ciel ! quel bat-bare!' The young ladies gave her the most 
 earnest attention ; but their brother and the young man kept 
 a broad grin upon their faces during the whole recital. She 
 was, however, too much engaged to observe them : but, when 
 she mentioned having been tied in a ditch, young Branghton, 
 no longer able to constrain himself, burst into a loud laugh, 
 declaring that he had never heard anything so funny in his 
 life ! His laugh was heartily re-echoed by his friend ; the 
 Miss Branghtons could not resist the example ; and poor 
 Madame Duval, to her extreme amazement, was absolutely 
 overpowered and stopped by the violence of their mirth. 
 
 For some minutes the room seemed quite in an uproar : the 
 rage of Madame Duval, the astonishment of M. Du Bois, and 
 the angry interrogatories of Mr. Branghton, on one side ; the 
 convulsive tittering of the sisters, and the loud laughs of the 
 young men, on the other, occasioned such noise, passion, and 
 confusion, that had any one stopped an instant on the stairs, 
 he must have concluded himself in Bedlam. At length, how- 
 ever, the father brought them to order, and, half- laughing, 
 half-frightened, they made Madame Duval some very awkward 
 apologies. But she would not be prevailed upon to continue 
 her narrative, till they had protested they were laughing at the 
 Captain, and not at her. Appeased by this, she resumed her 
 story, which, by the help of stuffing handkerchiefs into their 
 mouths, the young people heard with tolerable decency. 
 
 Everybody agreed that the ill-usage the Captain had given 
 
 194
 
 The violence 0/ their mirth.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 her was actionable, and Mr. Branghton said he was sure she 
 might recover what damages she pleased, since she had been 
 put in fear of her life. 
 
 She then, with great delight, declared that she would lose 
 no time in satisfying her revenge, and vowed she would not be 
 contented with less than half his fortune : ' For though,' said 
 she, ' I don't put no value upon the money, because, Dieti 
 merci, I ha'n't no want of it, yet I don't wish for nothing so 
 much as to punish that fellow ; for, I'm sure, whatever's the 
 cause of it, he owes me a great grudge, and I know no more 
 what it's for than you do, but he's always been doing me one 
 spite or other, ever since I knew him.' 
 
 Soon after tea, Miss Branghton took an opportunity to tell 
 me, in a whisper, that the young man I saw was a lover of her 
 sister's, that his name was Brown, and that he was a haber- 
 dasher, with many other particulars of his circumstances and 
 family ; and then she declared her utter aversion to the 
 thoughts of such a match, but added that her sister had no 
 manner of spirit or ambition, though, for her part, she would 
 ten times rather die an old maid than marry any person but a 
 gentleman. ' And, for that matter,' added she, ' I believe 
 Polly herself don't care much for him, only she's in such a 
 hurry, because, I suppose, she's a mind to be married before 
 me ; however, she's very welcome, for, I'm sure, I don't care 
 a pin's-point whether I ever marry at all ; — it's all one to me.' 
 
 Some time after this, Miss Polly contrived to tell her story. 
 She assured me, with much tittering, that her sister was in a 
 great fright lest she should be married first. ' So I make her 
 believe that I will,' continued she, 'for I love dearly to plague 
 her a little ; though, I declare, I don't intend to have Mr. 
 Brown in reality ; I'm sure I don't like him half well enough, 
 — do you, Miss ? ' 
 
 ' It is not possible for me to judge of his merits,' said I, 
 ' as I am entirely a stranger to him.' 
 
 ' But what do you think of him, Miss ?' 
 
 ' Why, really, I — I don't know — ' 
 
 ' But do you think him handsome ? Some people reckon 
 him to have a good pretty person, — but, I'm sure, for my part 
 I think he's monstrous ugly : — don't you, Miss ?' 
 
 ' I am no judge,— but I think his person is very — very 
 well' 
 
 196
 
 EVELINA 
 
 ' Very well .' — Why, pray, Miss,' in a tone of vexation, 
 ' what fault can you find with it ? ' 
 
 ' O, none at all ! ' 
 
 ' I'm sure you must be very ill-natured if you could. Now 
 there's Biddy says she thinks nothing of him, — but I know it's- 
 all out of spite. You must know, Miss, it makes her as mad 
 as can be that I should have a lover before her ; but she's so 
 proud that nobody will court her, and I often tell her she'll 
 die an old maid. But, the thing is, she has taken it into her 
 head to have a liking for Mr. Smith, as lodges on the first 
 floor ; but, Lord, he'll never have her, for he's quite a fine 
 gentleman ; and besides, Mr. Brown heard him say, one day, 
 that he'd never marry as long as he lived, for he'd no opinion 
 of matrimony.' 
 
 ' And did you tell your sister this ?' 
 
 ' O, to be sure, I told her directly ; but she did not mind 
 me ; however, if she will be a fool, she must.' 
 
 This extreme want of affection and good-nature increased 
 the distaste I already felt for these unamiable sisters ; and a 
 confidence so entirely unsolicited and unnecessary, manifested 
 equally their folly and their want of decency. 
 
 I was very glad when the time for our departing arrived. 
 Mr. Branghton said our lodgings were in Holborn, that we 
 might be near his house, and neighbourly. He accompanied 
 us to them himself. 
 
 Our rooms are large, and not inconvenient ; our landlord is 
 an hosier. I am sure I have a thousand reasons to rejoice 
 that I am so little known, for my present situation is, in every 
 respect, very unenviable ; and I would not, for the world, be 
 seen by any acquaintance of Mrs. Mirvan. 
 
 Thismorning Madame Duval, attended byall the Branghtons, 
 actually went to a Justice in the neighbourhood, to report the 
 Captain's ill-usage of her. I had great difficulty in excusing 
 myself from being of the party, which would have given me 
 very serious concern. Indeed, I was extremely anxious, though 
 at home, till I heard the result of the application : for I dread 
 to think of the uneasiness which such an affair would occasion 
 the amiable Mrs. Mirvan. But, fortunately, Madame Duval 
 has received very little encouragement to proceed in her design, 
 for she has been informed that, as she neither heard the voice 
 nor saw the face of the person suspected, she will find it 
 
 197
 
 EVELINA 
 
 difficult to cast him upon conjecture, and will have but little 
 probability of gaining her cause, unless she can procure 
 witnesses of the transaction. Mr. Branghton, therefore, who 
 has considered all the circumstances of the affair, is of opinion 
 that the law-suit will not only be expensive, but tedious and 
 hazardous, and has advised against it. Madame Duval, 
 though very unwillingly, has acquiesced in his decision ; but 
 vows that if ever she is so affronted again, she will be revenged, 
 even if she ruins herself. I am extremely glad that this 
 ridiculous adventure seems now likely to end without more 
 serious consequences. 
 
 Adieu, my dearest Sir. My direction is at Mr. Dawkins's, 
 a hosier in High Holborn. 
 
 LETTER XLI 
 
 EVELINA TO MISS MIRVAN 
 
 June 7. 
 
 I have no words, my sweet friend, to express the thankfulness 
 I feel for the unbounded kindness which you, your dear 
 mother, and the much -honoured Lady Howard have shown 
 me ; and still less can I find language to tell you with what 
 reluctance I parted from such dear and generous friends, 
 whose goodness reflects, at once, so much honour on their own 
 hearts, and on her to whom it has been so liberally bestowed. 
 But I will not repeat what I have already written to the kind 
 Mrs. Mirvan ; I will remember your admonitions, and confine 
 to my own breast that gratitude with which you have filled it, 
 and teach my pen to dwell upon subjects less painful to my 
 generous correspondent. 
 
 O Maria, London now seems no longer the same place 
 where I lately enjoyed so much happiness ; everything is new 
 and strange to me ; even the town itself has not the same 
 aspect : — my situation so altered ! my home so different ! — my 
 companions so changed ! — But you well know my aversehess 
 to this journey. 
 
 Indeed, to me, London now seems a desert ; that gay and 
 busy appearance it so lately wore, is now succeeded by a look 
 
 198
 
 EVELINA 
 
 of gloom, fatigue, and lassitude ; the air seems stagnant, the 
 heat is intense, the dust intolerable, and the inhabitants 
 illiterate and under-bred. At least, such is the face of things 
 in the part of the town where I at present reside. 
 
 Tell me, my dear Maria, do you never retrace in your' 
 memory the time we passed here when together ? to mine, it 
 recurs for ever ! And yet, I think I rather recollect a dream, 
 or some visionary fancy, than a reality. — That I should ever 
 have been known to Lord Orville, — that I should have spoken 
 to — have danced with him, — seems now a romantic illusion : 
 and that elegant politeness, that flattering attention, that high- 
 bred delicacy, which so much distinguished him above all other 
 men, and which struck us with such admiration, I now retrace 
 the remembrance of, rather as belonging to an object of ideal 
 perfection, formed by my own imagination, than to a being of 
 the same race and nature as those with whom I at present 
 converse. — 
 
 I have no news for you, my dear Miss Mirvan ; for all that 
 I could venture to say of Madame Duval, I have already 
 written to your sweet mother ; and as to adventures, I have 
 none to record. Situated as I now am, I heartily hope I shall 
 not meet with any ; my wish is to remain quiet and unnoticed. 
 
 Adieu ! excuse the gravity of this letter, and believe me, — 
 Your most sincerely affectionate and obliged 
 
 Evelina Anville. 
 
 LETTER XLII 
 
 EVELINA TO THE REV. MR. VILLARS 
 
 IIOLBORN,y//;/<' 9. 
 
 Yesterday morning, we received an invitation to dine and 
 spend the day at Mr. Branghton's ; and M. Du Bois, who was 
 also invited, called to conduct us to Snow Hill. 
 
 Young Branghton received us at the door, and the first 
 words he spoke were, ' Do you know, Sisters a'n't dressed yet ? ' 
 
 Then hurrying us into the house, he said to me, ' Come, 
 Miss, you shall go upstairs and catch 'em, — I daresay they're 
 at the glass.' 
 
 199
 
 EVELINA 
 
 He would have taken my hand, but I declined this civility, 
 and begged to follow Madame Duval. Mr. Branghton then 
 appeared, and led the way himself. We went, as before, up 
 two pair of stairs ; but the moment the father opened the door, 
 the daughters both gave a loud scream. We all stopped, and 
 then Miss Branghton called out, ' Lord, Papa, what do you 
 bring the company up here for ? why, Polly and I a'n't half 
 dressed.' 
 
 'More shame for you,' answered he, 'here's your aunt, and 
 cousin, and M. Du Bois, all waiting, and ne'er a room to take 
 them to.' 
 
 ' Who'd have thought of their coming so soon ? ' cried she : 
 ' Pm sure for my part I thought Miss was used to nothing but 
 quality hours.' 
 
 'Why, I sha'n't be ready this half-hour yet,' said Miss 
 Polly ; ' can't they stay in the shop till we're dressed ? ' 
 
 Mr. Branghton was very angry, and scolded them violently ; 
 however, we were obliged to descend, and stools were procured 
 for us in the shop, where we found the brother, who was highly 
 delighted, he said, that his sisters had been catchedj and he 
 thought proper to entertain me with a long account of their 
 tediousness, and the many quarrels they all had together. 
 
 When, at length, these ladies were equipped to their 
 satisfaction, they made their appearance ; but before any con- 
 versation was suffered to pass between them and us, they had 
 a long and most disagreeable dialogue with their father, to 
 whose reprimands, though so justly incurred, they replied with 
 the utmost pertness and rudeness, while their brother, all the 
 time, laughed aloud. 
 
 The moment they perceived this, they were so much pro- 
 voked, that, instead of making any apologies to Madame 
 Duval, they next began a quarrel with him. 'Tom, what do 
 you laugh for ? I wonder what business you have to be always 
 a-laughing when Papa scolds us.' 
 
 'Then what business have you to be such a while getting 
 on your clothes ? You're never ready, you know well enough.' 
 
 ' Lord, Sir, I wonder what's that to you ! I wish you'd 
 mind your own affairs, and not trouble yourself about ours. 
 How should a boy like you know anything ? ' 
 
 'A boy, indeed ! not such a boy, neither ; I'll warrant you'll 
 be glad to be as young, when you come to be old maids.' 
 
 200
 
 EVELINA 
 
 This sort of dialogue we were amused with till dinner was 
 ready, when we again mounted up two pair of stairs. 
 
 In our way, Miss Polly told me that her sister had asked 
 Mr. Smith for his room to dine in, but he had refused to lend 
 it ; ' because,' she said, ' one day it happened to be a little 
 greased : however, we shall have it to drink tea in, and then, 
 perhaps, you may see him, and I assure you he's quite like one 
 of the quality, and dresses as fine, and goes to balls and 
 dances, and everything quite in taste ; — and besides, Miss, he 
 keeps a foot-boy of his own, too.' 
 
 The dinner was ill-served, ill-cooked, and ill-managed. The 
 maid who waited had so often to go downstairs for something 
 that was forgotten, that the Branghtons were perpetually obliged 
 to rise from table themselves to get plates, knives and forks, 
 bread or beer. Had they been without pretensions, all this 
 would have seemed of no consequence ; but they aimed at 
 appearing to advantage, and even fancied they succeeded. 
 However, the most disagreeable part of our fare was, that the 
 whole family continually disputed whose turn it was to rise, 
 and whose to be allowed to sit still. 
 
 When this meal was over, Madame Duval, ever eager to 
 discourse upon her travels, entered into an argument with Mr. 
 Branghton, and, in broken English, M. Du Bois, concerning 
 the French nation : and Miss Polly, then addressing herself to 
 me, said, ' Don't you think, Miss, it's very dull sitting upstairs 
 here ? we'd better go down to shop, and then we shall see the 
 people go by.' 
 
 ' Lord, Poll,' said the brother, ' you're always wanting to be 
 staring and gaping ; and I'm sure you needn't be so fond of 
 showing yourself, for you're ugly enough to frighten a horse.' 
 
 ' Ugly, indeed ! I wonder which is best, you or me. But, 
 I tell you what, Tom, you've no need to give yourself such airs, 
 for if you do, I'll tell Miss of you know what .' 
 
 ' Who cares if you do ? you may tell what you will ; I don't 
 mind .' 
 
 ' Indeed,' cried I, ' I do not desire to hear any secrets.' 
 
 ' O, but I'm resolved I'll tell you, because Tom's so very 
 spiteful. You must know, Miss, t'other night — 
 
 'Poll,' cried the brother, 'if you tell of that, Miss shall 
 know all about your meeting young Brown, — you know when ! 
 — So I'll be quits with you, one way or another.' 
 
 20I
 
 EVELINA 
 
 Miss Polly coloured, and again proposed our going down- 
 stairs till Mr. Smith's room was ready for our reception. 
 
 'Aye, so we will,' said Miss Branghton ; 'I'll assure you, 
 Cousin, we have some very genteel people pass by our shop 
 sometimes. Polly and I always go and sit there when we've 
 cleaned ourselves.' 
 
 ' Yes, Miss,' cried the brother, ' they do nothing else all day 
 long, when father don't scold them. But the best fun is, when 
 they've got all their dirty things on, and all their hair about 
 their ears, sometimes I send young Brown upstairs to them ; 
 and then, there's such a fuss ! — there they hide themselves, 
 and run away, and squeal and squall like anything mad : and 
 -so then I puts the two cats into the room, and I gives 'em a 
 good whipping, and so that sets them a-squalling too ; so 
 there's such a noise, and such an uproar ! — Lord, you can't 
 think, Miss, what fun it is ! ' 
 
 This occasioned a fresh quarrel with the sisters ; at the end 
 of which, it was, at length, decided that we should go to the 
 shop. 
 
 In our way downstairs. Miss Branghton said aloud, ' I 
 wonder when Mr. Smith's room will be ready.' 
 
 'So do I,' answered Polly; 'I'm sure we should not do 
 any harm to it now.' 
 
 This hint had not the desired effect ; for we were suffered 
 to proceed very quietly. 
 
 As we entered the shop, I observed a young man, in deep 
 mourning, leaning against the wall, with his arms folded, and 
 his eyes fixed on the ground, apparently in profound and 
 melancholy meditation : but the moment he perceived us he 
 started, and, making a passing bow, very abruptly retired. 
 As I found he was permitted to go quite unnoticed, I could 
 not forbear inquiring who he was. 
 
 'Lord!' answered Miss Branghton, 'he's nothing but a 
 poor Scotch poet.' 
 
 ' For my part,' said Miss Polly, ' I believe he's just starved, 
 for I don't find he has anything to live upon.' 
 
 ' Live upon ! ' cried the brother, ' why he's a poet, you 
 know, so he may live upon learning.' 
 
 'Aye, and good enough for him too,' said Miss Branghton, 
 ' for he's as proud as he's poor.' 
 
 ' Like enough,' replied the brother, ' but, for all that, you 
 202
 
 ^T; 
 
 In profound and melancholy meditation.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 won't find he will live without meat and drink : no, no, catch 
 a Scotchman at that if you can ! why, they only come here for 
 what they can get.' 
 
 ' I'm sure,' said Miss Branghton, ' I wonder Papa'll be such 
 a fool as to let him stay in the house, for I daresay he 11 never 
 pay for his lodging.' 
 
 ' Why, no more he would if he could get another lodger : 
 you know the bill's been put up this fortnight. Miss, if you 
 should hear of a person that wants a room, I assure you it is a 
 very good one, for all it's up three pair of stairs.' 
 
 I answered, that as I had no acquaintance in London, I 
 had not any chance of assisting them : but both my compassion 
 and my curiosity were excited for this poor young man, and I 
 asked them some further particulars concerning him. 
 
 They then acquainted me that they had only known him 
 three months. When he first lodged with them, he agreed to 
 board also, but had lately told them he would eat by himself; 
 though they all believed he had hardly ever tasted a morsel of 
 meat since he left their table. They said that he had always 
 appeared very low-spirited, but, for the last month, he had 
 been duller than ever, and, all of a sudden, had put himself 
 into mourning, though they knew not for whom, nor for what, 
 but they supposed it was only for convenience, as no person 
 had ever been to see or inquire for him since his residence 
 amongst them : and they were sure he was very poor, as he 
 had not paid for his lodgings the last three weeks : and finally, 
 they concluded he was a poet, or else half-crazy, because they 
 had, at different times, found scraps of poetry in his room. 
 
 They then produced some unfinished verses, written on 
 small pieces of paper, unconnected, and of a most melancholy 
 cast. Among them was the fragment of an ode, which, at my 
 request, they lent me to copy ; and, as you may perhaps like 
 to see it, I will write it now. 
 
 O LIFE ! thou lingering dream of grief, of pain. 
 And every ill that Nature can sustain, 
 
 Strange, mutable, and wild ! 
 Now flattering with Hope most fair, 
 Depressing now with fell Despair, 
 
 The nurse of Guilt, the slave of Pride, 
 
 That, like a wayward child, 
 Who, to himself a foe, 
 
 204
 
 EVELINA 
 
 Sees joy alone in what's denied, 
 In what is granted, woe ! 
 
 O thou poor, feeble, fleeting pow'r, 
 By Vice seduc'd, by Folly woo'd, 
 By Mis'ry, Shame, Remorse, pursu'd ; 
 And as thy toilsome steps proceed, 
 Seeming to Youth the fairest flow'r, 
 Proving to Age the rankest weed, 
 
 A gilded, but a bitter pill, 
 Of varied, great, and complicated ill ! 
 
 These lines are harsh, but they indicate an internal 
 wretchedness which, I own, affects me. Surely this young 
 man must be involved in misfortunes of no common nature : 
 but I cannot imagine what can induce him to remain with this 
 unfeeling family, where he is most unworthily despised for 
 being poor, and most illiberally detested for being a Scotchman. 
 He may, indeed, have motives, which he cannot surmount, for 
 submitting to such a situation. Whatever they are, I most 
 heartily pity him, and cannot but wish it were in my power to 
 afford him some relief. 
 
 During this conversation, Mr. Smith's foot-boy came to 
 Miss Branghton and informed her that his master said she 
 might have the room now when she liked it, for that he was 
 presently going out. 
 
 This very genteel message, though it perfectly satisfied the 
 Miss Branghtons, by no means added to my desire of being 
 introduced to this gentleman : and upon their rising, with 
 intention to accept his offer, I begged they would excuse my 
 attending them, and said I would sit with Madame Duval till 
 the tea was ready. 
 
 I therefore once more went up two pair of stairs with young 
 Branghton, who insisted upon accompanying me : and there 
 we remained till Mr. Smith's foot-boy summoned us to tea, 
 when I followed Madame Duval into the dining-room. 
 
 The Miss Branghtons were seated at one window, and 
 Mr. Smith was lolling indolently out of the other. The}- all 
 approached us at our entrance, and Mr. Smith, probably to 
 show he was master of the apartment, most officiously handed 
 me to a great chair at the upper end of the room, without 
 taking any notice of Madame Duval, till I rose and offered her 
 my own seat. 
 
 205
 
 Most officiously handed me to a great chair.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 Leaving the rest of the company to entertain themselves, 
 he, very abruptly, began to address himself to me, in a style of 
 gallantry equally new and disagreeable to me. It is true, no 
 man can possibly pay me greater compliments, or make more 
 fine speeches, than Sir Clement Willoughby, yet his language, 
 though too flowery, is always that of a gentleman, and his 
 address and manners are so very superior to those of the 
 inhabitants of this house, that to make any comparison between 
 him and Mr. Smith would be extremely unjust. This latter 
 seems very desirous of appearing a man of gaiety and spirit ; 
 but his vivacity is so low-bred, and his whole behaviour so 
 forward and disagreeable, that I should prefer the company of 
 dul hie ss itself, even as that goddess is described by Pope, to 
 that of this sprightly young man. 
 
 He made many apologies that he had not lent his room 
 for our dinner, which, he said, he should certainly have done 
 had he seen me first ; and he assured me, that when I came 
 again, he should be very glad to oblige me. 
 
 I told him, and with sincerity, that every part of the house 
 was equally indifferent to me. 
 
 'Why, Ma'am, the truth is, Miss Biddy and Polly take no 
 care of anything, else, I'm sure, they should be always welcome 
 to my room ; for I'm never so happy as in obliging the ladies, 
 — that's my character, Ma'am : — but, really, the last time they 
 had it, everything was made so greasy and so nasty, that, upon 
 my word, to a man who wishes to have things a little genteel, 
 it was quite cruel. Now, as to you, Ma'am, it's quite another 
 thing ; for I should not mind if everything I had was spoilt, 
 for the sake of having the pleasure to oblige you ; and, I 
 assure you, Ma'am, it makes me quite happy that I have a 
 room good enough to receive you.' 
 
 This elegant speech was followed by many others, so much 
 in the same style, that to write them would be superfluous ; 
 and, as he did not allow me a moment to speak to any other 
 person, the rest of the evening was consumed in a painful 
 attention to this irksome young man, who seemed to intend 
 appearing before me to the utmost advantage. 
 
 Adieu, my dear Sir. I fear you will be sick of reading 
 about this family : yet I must write of them, or not of any. 
 since I mix with no other. Happy shall I be when I quit 
 them all, and again return to Berry Hill ! 
 
 207
 
 EVELINA 
 
 LETTER XLIII 
 
 EVELINA IX CONTINUATION" 
 
 June io. 
 
 This morning, Mr. Smith called, on purpose, he said, to 
 offer me a ticket for the next Hampstead assembly. I thanked 
 him, but desired to be excused accepting it ; he would not, 
 however, be denied, nor answered ; and, in a manner both 
 vehement and free, pressed and urged his offer till I was 
 wearied to death : but, when he found me resolute, he seemed 
 thunderstruck with amazement, and thought proper to desire I 
 would tell him my reasons. 
 
 Obvious as they must surely have been to any other 
 person, they were such as I knew not how to repeat to him ; 
 and when he found I hesitated, he said, ' Indeed, Ma'am, you 
 are too modest ; I assure you the ticket is quite at your service, 
 and I shall be very happy to dance with you ; so pray dont 
 be so coy.' 
 
 'Indeed, Sir,' returned I, 'you are mistaken; I never 
 supposed you would offer a ticket without wishing it should be 
 accepted ; but it would answer no purpose to mention the 
 reasons which make me decline it, since they cannot possibly 
 be removed.' 
 
 This speech seemed very much to mortify him, which I 
 could not be concerned at, as I did not choose to be treated 
 by him with so much freedom. When he was at last con- 
 vinced that his application to me was ineffectual, he addressed 
 himself to Madame Duval, and begged she would interfere in 
 his favour, offering, at the same time, to procure another ticket 
 for herself. 
 
 ' Ma foi. Sir.' answered she, angrily, ' you might as well 
 have had the complaisance to ask me before, for, I assure you, 
 I don't approve of no such rudeness : however, you may keep 
 your tickets to yourself, for we don't want none of 'em.' 
 
 This rebuke almost overset him ; he made many apologies, 
 and said that he should certainly have first applied to her, but 
 that he had no notion the young lady would have refused him, 
 and, on the contrary, had concluded that she would have 
 assisted "him to persuade Madame Duval herself. 
 
 208
 
 
 ' Pray don't 6e 
 
 so coy.'
 
 EVELINA 
 
 This excuse appeased her ; and he pleaded his cause so 
 successfully, that, to my great chagrin, he gained it : and 
 Madame Duval promised that she would go herself, and take 
 me to the Hampstead assembly, whenever he pleased. 
 
 Mr. Smith then, approaching me with an air of triumph, 
 said, ' Well, Ma'am, now, I think, you can't possibly keep to 
 your denial.' 
 
 I made no answer, and he soon took leave, though not till 
 he had so wonderfully gained the favour of Madame Duval, 
 that she declared, when he was gone, he was the prettiest 
 young man she had seen since she came to England. 
 
 As soon as I could find an opportunity. I ventured, in the 
 most humble manner, to entreat Madame Duval would not 
 insist upon my attending her to this ball ; and represented to 
 her, as well as I was able, the impropriety of my accepting 
 any present from a young man so entirely unknown to me : 
 but she laughed at my scruples, called me a foolish, ignorant 
 country girl, and said she should make it her business to teach 
 me something of the world. 
 
 This ball is to be next week. I am sure it is not more 
 improper for, than unpleasant to me. and I will use even- 
 possible endeavour to avoid it. Perhaps I may apply to Miss 
 Branghton for advice, as I believe she will be willing to assist 
 me, from disliking, equally with myself, that I should dance 
 with Mr. Smith. 
 
 July ii. 
 
 O, my dear Sir! I have been shocked to death ; — ami yet, 
 at the same time, delighted beyond expression, in the hope 
 that 1 have happily been the instrument of saving a human 
 creature from destruction ! 
 
 This morning, Madame Duval said she would invite the 
 Branghton family to return our visit to-morrow ; and, not 
 choosing to rise herself, — for she generally spends the morning 
 in bed, — -she desired me to wait upon them with her message. 
 M. Du Bois, who just then called, insisted upon attending me. 
 
 Mr. Branghton was in the shop, and told us that his son 
 and daughters were out : but desired me to step upstairs, as he 
 very soon expected them home. This I did, leaving M. Du 
 Bois below. I went into the room where we had dined the 
 day before, and, by a wonderful chance, I happened so to seat 
 • • 210
 
 EVELINA 
 
 myself, that I had a view of the stairs, and yet could not be 
 seen from them. 
 
 In about ten minutes time, I saw, passing by the door, with 
 a look perturbed and affrighted, the same young man I 
 mentioned in my last letter. Not heeding, as I suppose, how 
 he went, in turning the corner of the stairs, which are narrow 
 and winding, his foot slipped, and he fell, but almost instantly 
 rising, I plainly perceived the end of a pistol, which started 
 from his pocket, by hitting against the stairs. 
 
 I was inexpressibly shocked. All that I had heard of his 
 misery occurring to my memory, made me conclude that he 
 was at that very moment meditating suicide ! Struck with 
 the dreadful idea, all my strength seemed to fail me. He 
 moved on slowly, yet I soon lost sight of him ; I sat motionless 
 with terror ; all power of action forsook me, and I grew 
 almost stiff with horror : till, recollecting that it was yet possible 
 to prevent the fatal deed, all my faculties seemed to return 
 with the hope of saving him. 
 
 My first thought was to fly to Mr. Branghton, but I feared 
 that an instant of time lost might for ever be rued ; and 
 therefore, guided by the impulse of my apprehensions, as well 
 as I was able, I followed him upstairs, stepping very softly, and 
 obliged to support myself by the banisters. 
 
 When I came within a few stairs of the landing-place, I 
 stopped, for I could then see into his room, as he had not yet 
 shut the door. 
 
 He had put the pistol upon a table, and had his hand in his 
 pocket, whence, in a few moments, he took out another. He 
 then emptied something on the table from a small leather bag ; 
 after which, taking up both the pistols, one in each hand, he 
 dropped hastily upon his knees, and called out, ' O God ! — 
 forgive me ! ' 
 
 In a moment, strength and courage seemed lent me as by 
 inspiration : I started, and rushing precipitately into the room, 
 just caught his arm, and then, overcome by my own fears, . I 
 fell down at his side, breathless and senseless. My recovery, 
 however, was, I believe, almost instantaneous ; and then the 
 sight of this unhappy man, regarding me with a look of. un- 
 utterable astonishment, mixed with concern, presently restored 
 to me my recollection. I arose, though with difficulty ; he did 
 the same ; the pistols, as I soon saw. were both on the floor. 
 
 211
 
 EVELINA 
 
 Unwilling to leave them, and, indeed, too weak to move. I 
 leant one hand on the table, and then stood perfectly still : 
 while he, his eyes cast wildly towards me, seemed too infinitely 
 amazed to be capable of either speech or action. 
 
 I believe we were some minutes in this extraordinary 
 situation ; but as my strength returned, I felt myself both 
 ashamed and awkward, and moved towards the door. Pale, 
 and motionless, he suffered me to pass, without changing his 
 posture, or uttering a syllable ; and, indeed, 
 
 He look'd a bloodless image of despair ! x 
 
 When I reached the door, I turned round ; I looked fearfully 
 at the pistols, and, impelled by an emotion I could not repress, 
 I hastily stepped back, with an intention of carrying them 
 away : but their wretched owner, perceiving my design, and 
 recovering from his astonishment, darting suddenly down, seized 
 them both himself. 
 
 Wild with fright, and scarce knowing what I did, I caught, 
 almost involuntarily, hold of both his arms, and exclaimed, ' O 
 Sir ! have mercy on yourself!' 
 
 The guilty pistols fell from his hands, which, disengaging 
 from me, he fervently clasped, and cried, ' Sweet Heaven, is 
 this thy angel ? ' 
 
 Encouraged by such gentleness, I again attempted to take 
 the pistols, but, with a look half frantic, he again prevented 
 me, saying, ' What would you do ? ' 
 
 'Awaken you,' I cried, with a courage I now wonder at, 
 ' to worthier thoughts, and rescue you from perdition.' 
 
 I then seized the pistols ; he said not a word — he made no 
 effort to stop me ; — I glided quick by him, and tottered down- 
 stairs ere he had recovered from the cxtremest amazement. 
 
 The moment I reached again the room I had so fearfully 
 left, I threw away the pistols, and flinging myself on the first 
 chair, gave free vent to the feelings I had most painfully stifled, 
 in a violent burst of tears, which, indeed, proved a happy relief 
 to me. 
 
 In this situation I remained some time ; but when, at length, 
 I lifted up my head, the first object I saw was the poor man 
 who had occasioned my terror, standing, as if petrified, at the 
 door, and gazing at me with eyes of wild wonder. 
 1 Pope's Iliad. 
 
 212
 
 EVELINA 
 
 I started from the chair, but trembled so excessively, that I 
 almost instantly sank again into it. He then, though without 
 advancing, and in a faltering voice, said, ' Whoever or what- 
 ever you are, relieve me, I pray you, from the suspense under 
 which my soul labours — and tell me if indeed I do not dream ! ' 
 
 To this address, so singular and so solemn, I had not then 
 the presence of mind to frame my answer : but, as I presently 
 perceived that his eyes turned from me to the pistols, and that 
 he seemed to intend regaining them, I exerted all my strength, 
 and saying, ' O for Heaven's sake forbear ! ' I rose and took 
 them myself. 
 
 ' Do my senses deceive me ! ' cried he, ' do / live — ? and 
 do you f ' 
 
 As he spoke, he advanced towards me ! and I, still guarding 
 the pistols, retreated, saying, ' No, no — you must not — must 
 not have them ! ' 
 
 ' Why — for what purpose, tell me ! — do you withhold them ? ' 
 
 • To give you time to think, — to save you from eternal misery, 
 — and, I hope, to reserve you for mercy and forgiveness.' 
 
 ' Wonderful ! ' cried he, with uplifted hands and eyes, ' most 
 wonderful ! ' 
 
 For some time he seemed wrapped in deep thought, till a 
 sudden noise of tongues below announcing the approach of the 
 Branghtons, made him start from his reverie: he sprang hastily 
 forvvard, — dropped on one knee, — caught hold of my gown, 
 which he pressed to his lips, and then, quick as lightning, he 
 rose, and flew upstairs to his own room. 
 
 There was something in the whole of this extraordinary 
 and shocking adventure, really too affecting to be borne ; and 
 so entirely had I spent my spirits and exhausted my courage, 
 that, before the Branghtons reached me, I had sunk on the 
 ground, without sense or motion. 
 
 I believe I must have been a very horrid sight to them, on 
 their entrance into the room ; for, to all appearance, I seemed 
 to have suffered a violent death, either by my own rashness, 
 or the cruelty of some murderer, as the pistols had fallen close 
 by my side. 
 
 How soon I recovered I know not, but probably I was 
 more indebted to the loudness of their cries than to their 
 assistance ; for they all concluded that I was dead, and, for 
 some time, did not make any effort to revive me. 
 
 213
 
 EVELINA 
 
 Scarcely could I recollect where, or, indeed what, I was, ere 
 they poured upon me such a torrent of questions and inquiries, 
 that I was almost stunned with their vociferation. However, 
 as soon and as well as I was able, I endeavoured to satisfy 
 their curiosity, by recounting what had happened as clearly as 
 was in my power. They all looked aghast at the recital, but. 
 not being well enough to enter into any discussions, I begged 
 to have a chair called, and to return instantly home. 
 
 Before I left them, I recommended, with great earnestness, 
 a vigilant observance of their unhappy lodger, and that they 
 would take care to keep from him, if possible, all means of 
 self-destruction. 
 
 M. Du Bois, who seemed extremely concerned at my 
 indisposition, walked by the side of the chair, and saw me safe 
 to my own apartment. 
 
 The rashness and the misery of this ill-fated young man 
 engross all my thoughts. If, indeed, he is bent upon destroying 
 himself, all efforts to save him will be fruitless. How much do 
 I wish it were in my power to discover the nature of the malady 
 which thus maddens him, and to offer or to procure alleviation 
 to his sufferings ! I am sure, my dearest Sir, you will be much 
 concerned for this poor man, and were you here, I doubt not 
 but you would find some method of awakening him from the 
 error which blinds him, and of pouring the balm of peace and 
 comfort into his afflicted soul ! 
 
 LETTER XLIV 
 EVELINA IX CONTINUATION 
 
 HOLBORN, ./»«« 13. 
 
 Yesterday all the Branghtons dined here. 
 
 Our conversation was almost wholly concerning the adventure 
 of the day before. Mr. Branghton said that his first thought 
 was instantly to turn his lodger out of doors, ' lest,' continued 
 he, ' his killing himself in my house should bring me into any 
 trouble ; but then, I was afraid I should never get the money 
 he owes me, whereas, if he dies in my house, I have a right 
 to all he leaves behind him, if he goes off in my debt. Indeed, 
 
 - '4
 
 M. Du Boh walked by the side of the chair.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 I would put him in prison, — but what should I get by that ? 
 he could not earn anything there to pay me. So I considered 
 about it some time, and then I determined to ask him, point- 
 blank, for my money out of hand. And so I did, but he told 
 me he'd pay me next week : however, I gave him to under- 
 stand that, though I was no Scotchman, yet I did not like to 
 be over-reached any more than he ; so then he gave me a 
 ring, which, to my certain knowledge, must be worth ten 
 guineas, and told me he would not part with it for his life, and 
 a good deal more such sort of stuff, but that I might keep it 
 till he could pay me.' 
 
 ' It is ten to one, father,' said young Branghton, ' if he came 
 fairly by it.' 
 
 4 Very likely not,' answered he, ' but that will make no 
 great difference; for I shall be able to prove my right to it 
 all one.' 
 
 What principles ! I could hardly stay in the room. 
 
 ' I'm determined,' said the son, ' I'll take some opportunity 
 to affront him soon, now I know how poor he is, because of 
 the airs he gave himself to me when he first came.' 
 
 ' And pray how was that, child ? ' said Madame Duval. 
 
 ' Why, you never knew such a fuss in your life as he made, 
 because, one day at dinner, I only happened to say, that I 
 supposed he had never got such a good meal in his life, before 
 he came to England : there he fell in such a passion as you 
 can't think ; but, for my part, I took no notice of it, for to be 
 sure, thinks I, he must needs be a gentleman, or he'd never 
 go to be so angry about it. However, he won't put his tricks 
 upon me again in a hurry.' 
 
 4 Well,' said Miss Polly, 4 he's grown quite another creature 
 to what he was, and he doesn't run away from us, nor hide 
 himself, nor anything ; and he's as civil as can be, and he's 
 always in the shop, and he saunters about the stairs, and he 
 looks at everybody as comes in.' 
 
 'Why, you may see what he's after plain enough,' said Mr. 
 Branghton ; 4 he wants to see Miss again.' 
 
 4 Ha, ha, ha! Lord, how I should laugh,' said the son, 'if 
 he should have fell in love with Miss !' 
 
 4 I'm sure,' said Miss Branghton, 4 Miss is welcome ; but, 
 for my part, I should be quite ashamed of such a beggarly 
 conquest.' 
 
 216
 
 EVELINA 
 
 Such was the conversation till tea-time, when the appear- 
 ance of Mr. Smith gave a new turn to the discourse. 
 
 Miss Branghton desired me to remark with what a smart 
 air he entered the room, and asked me if he had not very 
 much a quality look ? 
 
 ' Come,' cried he, advancing to us, ' you ladies must not 
 sit together ; wherever I go, I always make it a rule to part 
 the ladies.' 
 
 And then, handing Miss Branghton to the next chair, he 
 seated himself between us. 
 
 ' Well, now ladies, I think we sit very well. What say 
 you ? for my part, I think it was a very good motion.' 
 
 ' If my cousin likes it,' said Miss Branghton, ' I'm sure I've 
 no objection.' 
 
 ' O,' cried he, ' I always study what the ladies like, — that's 
 my first thought. And, indeed, it is but natural that you 
 should like best to sit by the gentlemen, for what can you find 
 to say to one another ? ' 
 
 ' Say ? ' cried young Branghton, ' O, never you think of 
 that, they'll find enough to say, I'll be sworn. You know the 
 women are never tired of talking.' 
 
 ' Come, come, Tom,' said Mr. Smith, ' don't be severe upon 
 the ladies ; when I'm by, you know, I always take their part.' 
 
 Soon after, when Miss Branghton offered me some cake, 
 this man of gallantry said, ' Well, if I was that lady, I'd never 
 take anything from a woman.' 
 
 'Why not, Sir?' 
 
 ' Because I should be afraid of being poisoned for being so 
 handsome.' 
 
 •Who is severe upon the ladies now?' said I. 
 
 ' Why, really, Ma'am, it was a slip of the tongue ; I did 
 not intend to say such a thing ; but one can't always be on 
 one's guard.' 
 
 Soon after, the conversation turning upon public places, 
 young Branghton asked if I had ever been to George's at 
 Hampstead ? ' 
 
 ' Indeed I never heard the place mentioned.' 
 
 'Didn't you, Miss ?' cried he, eagerly, 'why then you've a 
 deal of fun to come, I'll promise you ; and, I tell you what, 
 I'll treat you there some Sunday soon. So now, Bid and Poll, 
 be sure you don't tell Miss about the chairs, and all that, for 
 
 217
 
 ... 
 
 ' Well, new, ladies, I think -wc sit very well'
 
 EVELINA 
 
 I've a mind to surprise her ; and if I pay, I think I've a right 
 to have it my own way.' 
 
 'George's at Hampstead ! ' repeated Mr. Smith, con- 
 temptuously, ' how came you to think the young lady would 
 like to go to such a low place as that ! But, pray, Ma'am, 
 have you ever been to Don Saltero's at Chelsea ? ' 
 
 'No, Sir.' 
 
 ' No ! — nay, then, I must insist on having the pleasure of 
 conducting you there before long. I assure you, Ma'am, 
 many genteel people go, or else, I give you my word, / should 
 not recommend it.' 
 
 'Pray, Cousin,' said Mr. Branghton, 'have you been at 
 Sadler's Wells yet ?' 
 
 ' No, Sir.' 
 
 ' No ! why then you've seen nothing ! ' 
 
 ' Pray, Miss,' said the son, ' how do you like the Tower of 
 London ! ' 
 
 ' I have never been to it, Sir.' 
 
 ' Goodness ! ' exclaimed he, ' not seen the Tower ! — why 
 may be you ha'n't been o' top of the Monument, neither ? ' 
 
 ' No, indeed, I have not.' 
 
 ' Why then you might as well not have come to London, 
 for aught I see, for you've been nowhere.' 
 
 ' Pray, Miss,' said Polly, ' have you been all over Paul's 
 Church, yet ? ' 
 
 ' No, Ma'am.' 
 
 'Well, but, Ma'am,' said Mr. Smith, 'how do you like 
 Vauxhall and Marybone ? ' 
 
 ' I never saw either, Sir.' 
 
 'No — God bless me! — you really surprise me, — why 
 Vauxhall is the first pleasure in life ! — I know nothing like it. 
 — Well, Ma'am, you must have been with strange people, 
 indeed, not to have taken you to Vauxhall. Why, you have 
 seen nothing of London yet. — However, we must try if ive 
 can't make you amends.' 
 
 In the course of this catechism^ many other places were 
 mentioned, of which I have forgotten the names ; but the 
 looks of surprise and contempt that my repeated negatives 
 incurred, were very diverting. 
 
 'Come,' said Mr. Smith, after tea, 'as this lady has been 
 with such a queer set of people, let's show her the difference ; 
 
 219
 
 EVELINA 
 
 suppose we go somewhere to-night ! — I love to do things with 
 spirit ! — Come, ladies, where shall we go ? F or my part, I 
 should like Foote's, — but the ladies must choose ; I never 
 speak myself.' 
 
 'Well, Mr. Smith is always in such spirits!' said Miss 
 Branghton. 
 
 ' Why, yes, Ma'am, yes, thank God, pretty good spirits ; — ■ 
 I have not yet the cares of the world upon me, — I am not 
 married, — ha, ha, ha, — you'll excuse me, ladies, — but I can't 
 help laughing ! ' 
 
 NO objection being made, to my great relief we all pro- 
 ceeded to the little theatre in the Haymarket, where I was 
 extremely entertained by the performance of the Minor and 
 the Commissary. 
 
 They all returned hither to supper. 
 
 LETTER XLV 
 
 EVELINA IX CONTINUATION 
 
 June 15. 
 
 Yesterday morning Madame Duval again sent me to Mr. 
 Branghton's, attended by M. Du Bois, to make some party 
 for the evening ; because she had had the vapours the 
 preceding day, from staying at home. 
 
 As I entered the shop, I perceived the unfortunate North 
 Briton seated in a corner, with a book in his hand. He 
 cast his melancholy eyes up as we came in, and, I believe, 
 immediately recollected my face, for he started and changed 
 colour. I delivered Madame Duval's message to Mr. 
 Branghton, who told me I should find Polly upstairs, but 
 that the others were gone out. 
 
 Upstairs, therefore. I went ; and, seated on a window, with 
 Mr. Brown at her side, sat Miss Polly. I felt a little awkward 
 at disturbing them, and much more so at their behaviour 
 afterwards ; for, as soon as the common inquiries were over, 
 Mr. Brown grew so fond, and so foolish, that I was extremely 
 disgusted. Polly all the time only rebuked him with ' La, 
 now, Mr. Brown, do be quiet, can't you? — you should not 
 
 220
 
 Sealed on a window with Mr. Brown.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 behave so before company. — Why, now, what will Miss think 
 of me ? ' — while her looks plainly showed not merely the 
 pleasure, but the pride, which she took in his caresses. 
 
 I did not, by any means, think it necessary to punish myself 
 by witnessing their tenderness, and, therefore, telling them I 
 would see if Miss Branghton were returned home, I soon left 
 them, and again descended into the shop. 
 
 'So, Miss, you've come again/ said Mr. Branghton, 'what, 
 I suppose, you've a mind to sit a little in the shop, and see 
 how the world goes, hey, Miss ?' 
 
 I made no answer, and M. Du Bois instantly brought me 
 a chair. 
 
 The unhappy stranger, who had risen at my entrance, again 
 seated himself; and, though his head leant towards his book, 
 I could not help observing that his eyes were most intently 
 and earnestly turned towards me. 
 
 M. Du Bois, as well as his broken English would allow 
 him, endeavoured to entertain us till the return of Miss 
 Branghton and her brother. 
 
 ' Lord, how tired I am ! ' cried the former, ' I have not a 
 foot to stand upon.' And then, without any ceremony, she 
 flung herself into the chair from which I had risen to receive 
 her. 
 
 ' You tired ! ' said the brother, ' why, then, what must I be, 
 that have walked twice as far ? ' And, with equal politeness, 
 he paid the same compliment to M. Du Bois which his sister 
 had done to me. 
 
 Two chairs and three stools completed the furniture of the 
 shop, and Mr. Branghton, who chose to keep his own seat 
 himself, desired M. Du Bois to take another ; and then, seeing 
 that I was without any, called out to the stranger, 'Come, Mr. 
 Macartney, lend us your stool.' 
 
 Shockedat their rudeness, I declined theoffer, andapproaching 
 Miss Branghton, said, w If you will be so good as to make room 
 for me on your chair, there will be no occasion to disturb that 
 gentleman.' 
 
 'Lord, what signifies that ?' cried the brother, 'he has had 
 his share of sitting, I'll be sworn.' 
 
 ' And if he has not,' said the sister, ' he has a chair upstairs ; 
 and the shop is our own, I hope.' 
 
 This grossness so much disgusted me. that I took the stool, 
 ?22
 
 EVELINA 
 
 and carrying it back to Mr. Macartney myself, I returned him 
 thanks, as civilly as I could, for his politeness, but said that I 
 had rather stand. 
 
 He looked at me as if unaccustomed to such attention, 
 bowed very respectfully, but neither spoke nor yet made use 
 of it. 
 
 I soon found that I was an object of derision to all present, 
 except M. Du Bois, and, therefore, I begged Mr. Branghton 
 would give me an answer for Madame Duval, as I was in 
 haste to return. 
 
 ' Well, then, Tom, — Biddy, — where have you a mind to go 
 to-night ? your Aunt and Miss want to be abroad and amongst 
 them.' 
 
 'Why then, Papa,' said Miss Branghton, 'we'll go to Don 
 Saltero's. Mr. Smith likes that place, so may be he'll go 
 along with us.' 
 
 ' Xo, no,' said the son, ' I'm for White-Conduit House ; so 
 let's go there.' 
 
 'White-Conduit House, indeed ! ' cried his sister, 'no, Tom, 
 that I won't.' 
 
 ' Why then let it alone ; nobody wants your company ; — 
 we shall do as well without you, I'll be sworn, and better too.' 
 
 ' I'll tell you what, Tom, if you don't hold your tongue, I'll 
 make you repent it, — that I assure you.' 
 
 Just then, Mr. Smith came into the shop, which he seemed 
 to intend passing through ; but when he saw me, he stopped 
 and began a most courteous inquiry after my health, protesting 
 that, had he known I was there, he" should have come down 
 sooner. 'But, bless me, Ma'am,' added he, 'what is the 
 reason you stand ?' and then he flew to bring me the seat from 
 which I had just parted. 
 
 ' Mr. Smith, you are come in very good time,' said Mr. 
 Branghton, ' to end a dispute between my son and daughter, 
 about where they shall all go to-night.' 
 
 'O fie, Tom, — dispute with a lady!' cried Mr. Smith; 
 'now, as for me, I'm for where you will, provided this young 
 lady is of the party, — one place is the same as another to me, 
 so that it be but agreeable to the ladies, — I would go anywhere 
 with you. Ma'am,' (to me) 'unless, indeed, it were to church; 
 — ha, ha, ha, — you'll excuse me, Ma'am, but, really, I never 
 could conquer my fear of a parson ; — ha, ha, ha, — really, ladies, 
 
 223
 
 EVELINA 
 
 I beg your pardon for being so rude, but I can't help laughing 
 for my life ! ' 
 
 ' I was just saying, Mr. Smith,' said Miss Branghton, 'that 
 I should like to go to Don Saltero's ; — now pray where should 
 you like to go ? ' 
 
 'Why really, Miss Biddy, you know I always let the ladies 
 decide; I never fix anything myself; but I should suppose it 
 would be rather hot at the coffee-house, — however, pray ladies, 
 settle it among yourselves, — I'm agreeable to whatever you 
 choose.' 
 
 It was easy for me to discover, that this man, with all his 
 parade of conformity, objects to everything that is not proposed 
 by himself: but he is so much admired, by this family, for his 
 gentility, that he thinks himself a complete fine gentleman ! 
 
 ' Come,' said Mr. Branghton, ' the best way will be to put 
 it to the vote, and then everybody will speak their minds. 
 Biddy, call Poll downstairs. We'll start fair.' 
 
 'Lord, Papa,' said Miss Branghton, 'why can't you as well 
 send Tom ? — you're always sending me of the errands.' 
 
 A dispute then ensued, but Miss Branghton was obliged to 
 yield. 
 
 When Mr. Brown and Miss Polly made their appearance, 
 the latter uttered many complaints of having been called, saying 
 she did not want to come, and was very well where she was. 
 
 'Now, ladies, your votes,' cried Mr. Smith; 'and so, 
 Ma'am,' (to me) 'we'll begin with you. What place shall you 
 like best ? ' and then, in a whisper, he added, ' I assure you, I 
 shall say the same as you do, whether I like it or not.' 
 
 I said, that as I was ignorant what choice was in my power, 
 I must beg to hear their decisions first. This was reluctantly 
 assented to ; and then Miss Branghton voted for Saltero's 
 Coffee-house ; her sister, for a party to Mother Red Caps J 
 the brother, for White Conduit-House; Mr. Brown, for 
 Bagnigge Wells ; Mr. Branghton for Sadler's Wells ; and Mr. 
 Smith for Vauxhall. 
 
 'Well now, Ma'am,' said Mr. Smith, 'we have all spoken, 
 and so you must give the casting vote. Come, what will you 
 fix upon ? ' 
 
 ' Sir,' answered I, ' I was to speak iastJ 
 
 'Well, so you will,' said Miss Branghton, 'for we've all 
 spoke first.' 
 
 224
 
 EVELINA 
 
 ' Pardon me,' returned I, ' the voting has not yet been 
 quite general.' 
 
 And I looked towards Mr. Macartney, to whom I wished 
 extremely to show that I was not of the same brutal nature 
 with those by whom he was treated so grossly. 
 
 • Why, pray,' said Mr. Branghton, ' who have we left out ? 
 would you have the cats and dogs vote ? ' 
 
 ' No, Sir,' cried I, with some spirit, ' I would have that 
 gentleman vote, — if, indeed, he is not superior to joining our 
 party.' 
 
 They all looked at me, as if they doubted whether or not 
 they had heard me right : but, in a few moments, their surprise 
 gave way to a rude burst of laughter. 
 
 Very much displeased, I told M. Du Bois that if he was 
 not ready to go, I would have a coach called for myself. 
 
 yes, he said, he was always ready to attend me. 
 
 Mr. Smith then advancing, attempted to take my hand, 
 and begged me not to leave them till I had settled the 
 evening's plan. 
 
 'I have nothing, Sir,' said I, 'to do with it, as it is my 
 intention to stay at home; and therefore Mr. Branghton will 
 be so good as to send Madame Duval word what place is 
 fixed upon, when it is convenient to him.' 
 
 And then, making a slight curtsy, I left them. 
 
 How much does my disgust for these people increase my 
 pity for poor Mr. Macartney ! I will not see them when I 
 can avoid so doing ; but I am determined to take every 
 opportunity in my power to show civility to this unhappy man, 
 whose misfortunes, with this family, only render him an object 
 of scorn. I was, however, very well pleased with M. Du 
 Bois, who, far from joining in their mirth, expressed himself 
 extremely shocked at their ill-breeding. 
 
 We had not walked ten yards before we were followed by 
 Mr. Smith, who came to make excuses, and to assure me they 
 were only joking, and hoped I took nothing ill, for, if I did, 
 he would make a quarrel of it himself with the Branghtons, 
 rather than I should receive any offence. 
 
 1 begged him not to take any trouble about so immaterial 
 an affair, and assured him I should not myself. He was so 
 officious, that he would not be prevailed upon to return home 
 till he had walked with us to Mr. Dawkins's. 
 
 225 Q
 
 We wereforiowed by Mr. Smith, who came to make «
 
 EVELINA 
 
 Madame Duval was very much displeased that I brought 
 her so little satisfaction. White-Conduit House was, at last, 
 fixed upon ; and, notwithstanding my great dislike of such 
 parties and such places, I was obliged to accompany them. 
 
 Very disagreeable, and much according to my expectations, 
 the evening proved. There were many people, all smart and 
 gaudy, and so pert and low-bred, that I could hardly endure 
 being amongst them ; but the party to which, unfortunately, I 
 belonged, seemed all at home. 
 
 LETTER XLVI 
 
 EVELINA IN CONTINUATION 
 
 HoLBORX,y>c;/t' 17. 
 
 Yesterday Mr. Smith carried his point of making a party 
 for Vauxhall, consisting of Madame Duval, M. Du Bois, all 
 the Branghtons, Mr. Brown, himself, — and me ! — for I rind 
 all endeavours vain to escape anything which these people 
 desire I should not. 
 
 There were twenty disputes previous to our setting out ; 
 first, as to the time of our going : Mr. Branghton, his son, 
 and young Brown, were for six o'clock ; and all the ladies and 
 Mr. Smith were for eight ; — the latter, however, conquered. 
 
 Then, as to the way we should go ; some were for a boat, 
 others for a coach, and Mr. Branghton himself was for walking : 
 but the boat, at length, was decided upon. Indeed, this was 
 the only part of the expedition that was agreeable to me, for 
 the Thames was delightfully pleasant. 
 
 The Garden is very pretty, but too formal ; I should have 
 been better pleased, had it consisted less of straight walks, 
 where 
 
 Grove nods at grove, each alley has its brother. 
 
 The trees, the numerous lights, and the company in the circle 
 round the orchestra make a most brilliant and gay appearance ; 
 and, had I been with a party less disagreeable to me, I should 
 have thought it a place formed for animation and pleasure. 
 There was a concert, in the course of which, a hautbois
 
 EVELINA 
 
 concerto was so charmingly played, that I could have thought 
 myself upon enchanted ground, had I had spirits more 
 gentle to associate with. The hautbois in the open air is 
 heavenly. 
 
 Mr. Smith endeavoured to attach himself to me, with such 
 officious assiduity, and impertinent freedom, that he quite 
 sickened me. Indeed, M. Du Bois was the only man of the 
 party to whom, voluntarily, I ever addressed myself. He is 
 civil and respectful, and I have found nobody else so since I 
 left Howard Grove. His English is very bad, but I prefer it 
 to speaking French myself, which I dare not venture to do. I 
 converse with him frequently, both to disengage myself from 
 others and to oblige Madame Duval, who is always pleased 
 when he is attended to. 
 
 As we were walking about the orchestra, I heard a bell 
 ring, and, in a moment, Mr. Smith, flying up to me, caught 
 my hand, and, with a motion too quick to be resisted, ran 
 away with me many yards before I had breath to ask his 
 meaning, though I struggled as well as I could to get from 
 him. At last, however, I insisted upon stopping : ' Stopping, 
 Ma'am ! ' cried he, ' why, we must run on, or we shall lose the 
 cascade.' 
 
 And then again, he hurried me away, mixing with a crowd 
 of people, all running with so much velocity, that I could not 
 imagine what had raised such an alarm. We were soon 
 followed by the rest of the party ; and my surprise and ignor- 
 ance proved a source of diversion to them all, which was not 
 exhausted the whole evening. Young Branghton, in particular, 
 laughed till he could hardly stand. 
 
 The scene of the cascade I thought extremely pretty, and 
 the general effect striking and lively. 
 
 But this was not the only surprise which was to divert them 
 at my expense ; for they led me about the garden, purposely 
 to enjoy my first sight of various other deceptions. 
 
 About ten o'clock, Mr. Smith having chosen a box in a 
 very conspicuous place, we all went to supper. Much fault 
 was found with everything that was ordered, though not a 
 morsel of anything was left ; and the dearness of the pro- 
 visions, with conjectures upon what profit was made by them, 
 supplied discourse during the whole meal. 
 
 When wine and cyder were brought, Mr. Smith said, ' Now 
 228
 
 
 
 Mr. Smith ran away with inc.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 let"s enjoy ourselves ; now is the time, or never. Well, Ma'am, 
 and how do you like Yauxhall ? ' 
 
 ' Like it ! ' cried young Branghton, ' why, how can she help 
 liking it ? she has never seen such a place before, that I'll 
 answer for.' 
 
 ' For my part,' said Miss Branghton, ' I like it because it 
 is not vulgar.' 
 
 'This must have been a fine treat for you, Miss,' said Mr. 
 Branghton ; ' why, I suppose you was never so happy in all 
 your life before ? ' 
 
 I endeavoured to express my satisfaction with some pleasure, 
 yet I believe they were much amazed at my coldness. 
 
 ' Miss ought to stay in town till the last night,' said young 
 Branghton, 'and then, it's my belief, she'd say something to 
 it ! Why, Lord, it's the best night of any ; there's always a 
 riot, — and there the folks run about, — and then there's such 
 squealing and squalling ! — and there all the lamps are broke, 
 — and the women run skimper scamper ; — I declare I would 
 not take five guineas to miss the last night '. ' 
 
 I was very glad when they all grew tired of sitting, and 
 called for the waiter to pay the bill. The Miss Branghtons said 
 they would walk on while the gentlemen settled the account, 
 and asked me to accompany them, which, however, I declined. 
 
 ' You girls may do as you please,' said Madame Duval, 
 ' but as to me, I promise you I sha'n't go nowhere without the 
 gentlemen.' 
 
 ' No more, I suppose, will my Cousin,'' said Miss Branghton, 
 looking reproachfully towards Mr. Smith. 
 
 This reflection, which I feared would flatter his vanity, 
 made me, most unfortunately, request Madame Duval's per- 
 mission to attend them. She granted it, and away we went, 
 having promised to meet in the room. 
 
 To the room, therefore, I would immediately have gone : 
 but the sisters agreed that they would first have a little pleasure, 
 and they tittered, and talked so loud, that they attracted uni- 
 versal notice. 
 
 ' Lord, Polly,' said the eldest, ' suppose we were to take a 
 turn in the dark walks ! ' 
 
 ' Aye, do,' answered she, ' and then we'll hide ourselves, 
 and then Mr. Brown will think we are lost.' 
 
 I remonstrated very warmly against this plan, telling them 
 2^0
 
 EVELINA 
 
 that it would endanger our missing the rest of the party all the 
 evening. 
 
 ' O dear,' cried Miss Branghton, ' I thought how uneasy 
 Miss would be without a beau ! ' 
 
 This impertinence I did not think worth answering ; and, 
 quite by compulsion, I followed them down a long alley, in 
 which there was hardly any light. 
 
 By the time we came near the end, a large party of gentle- 
 men, apparently very riotous, and who were hallooing, leaning 
 on one another, and laughing immoderately, seemed to rush 
 suddenly from behind some trees, and, meeting us face to face, 
 put their arms at their sides, and formed a kind of circle, which 
 first stopped our proceeding, and then our retreating, for we 
 were presently entirely enclosed. The Miss Branghtons 
 screamed aloud, and I was frightened exceedingly : our 
 screams were answered with bursts of laughter, and, for some 
 minutes, we were kept prisoners, till, at last, one of them, 
 rudely seizing hold of me, said I was a pretty little creature. 
 
 Terrified to death, I struggled with such vehemence to 
 disengage myself from him, that I succeeded, in spite of his 
 efforts to detain me ; and immediately, and with a swiftness 
 which fear only could have given me, I flew rather than ran 
 up the walk, hoping to secure my safety by returning to the 
 lights and company we had so foolishly left : but before I could 
 possibly accomplish my purpose, I was met by another party 
 of men, one of whom placed himself so directly in my way, 
 calling out, 'Whither so fast, my love?' — that I could only 
 have proceeded, by running into his arms. 
 
 In a moment, both my hands, by different persons, were 
 caught hold of; and one of them, in a most familiar manner, 
 desired, when I ran next, to accompany me in a race ; while 
 the rest of the party stood still and laughed. 
 
 I was almost distracted with terror, and so breathless with 
 running, that I could not speak, till another advancing, said, I 
 was as handsome as an angel, and desired to be of the party. 
 I then just articulated, 'For Heaven's sake, Gentlemen, let 
 me pass ! ' 
 
 Another, then, rushing suddenly forward, exclaimed, 
 'Heaven and earth ! what voice is that ?' 
 
 'The voice of the prettiest little actress I have seen this 
 age,' answered one of my persecutors. 
 
 2% T
 
 ... 
 
 . 
 
 
 c3^fk<r"^*«^ 
 
 77/f ATz'w Branghtons screamed.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 • No, — no, — no, — : I panted out, ' I am no actress, — pray 
 let me go, — pray let me pass.' 
 
 ' By all that's sacred,' cried the same voice, which I then 
 knew for Sir Clement Willoughby's, ' 'tis herself ! ' 
 
 ' Sir Clement Willoughby ! ' cried I. ' O, Sir, assist — assist 
 me — or I shall die with terror ! ' 
 
 ' Gentlemen,' cried he, disengaging them all from me in an 
 instant, ' pray leave this lady to me.' 
 
 Loud laughs proceeded from every mouth, and two or three 
 said, ' Willoughby has all the hick ! ' But one of them, in a 
 passionate manner, vowed he would not give me up, for that 
 he had the first right to me, and would support it. 
 
 'You are mistaken,' said Sir Clement, 'this lady is — I will 
 explain myself to you another time : but, I assure you, you are 
 all mistaken.' 
 
 And then, taking my willing hand, he led me off, amidst 
 the loud acclamations, laughter, and gross merriment of his 
 impertinent companions. 
 
 As soon as we had escaped from them, Sir Clement, with a 
 voice of surprise, exclaimed, ' My dearest creature, what wonder, 
 what strange revolution, has brought you to such a spot as 
 this ?' 
 
 Ashamed of my situation, and extremely mortified to be 
 thus recognised by him, I was for some time silent, and when 
 he repeated his question, only stammered out, ' I have, — I 
 hardly know how, — lost myself from my party.' 
 
 He caught my hand, and eagerly pressing it, in a passionate 
 voice, said, ' O that I had sooner met with thee ! ' 
 
 Surprised at a freedom so unexpected, I angrily broke from 
 him, saying, ' Is this the protection you give me, Sir Clement ? ' 
 
 And then I saw, what the perturbation of my mind had 
 prevented my sooner noticing, that he had led me, though I 
 know not how, into another of the dark alleys, instead of the 
 place whither I meant to go. 
 
 ' Good God ! ' I cried, ' where am I ? — What way are you 
 going ? ' 
 
 ' Where,' answered he, ' we shall be least observed.' 
 
 Astonished at this speech, I stopped short, and declared I 
 would go no further. 
 
 ' And why not, my angel ? ' again endeavouring to take my 
 hand. 
 
 233
 
 EVELINA 
 
 My heart beat with resentment ; I pushed him away from 
 me with all my strength, and demanded how he dared treat me 
 with such insolence ? 
 
 ' Insolence ! ' repeated he. 
 
 ' Yes, Sir Clement, insolence j from you, who know me, I 
 had a claim for protection, — not to such treatment as this.' 
 
 ' By Heaven,' cried he, with warmth, ' you distract me, — 
 why, tell me, — why do I see you here ? — -Is this a place for 
 Miss Anville ? — these dark walks ! -no party ! — no companion ! 
 — by all that's good, I can scarce believe my senses ! ' 
 
 Extremely offended at this speech, I turned angrily from 
 him, and, not deigning to make any answer, walked on towards 
 that part of the garden whence I perceived the lights and 
 company. 
 
 He followed me, but we were both some time silent. 
 
 ' So you will not explain to me your situation ? ' said he, at 
 length. 
 
 ' No, Sir,' answered I, disdainfully. 
 
 ' Nor yet — suffer me to make my own interpretation ? ' 
 
 I could not bear this strange manner of speaking ; it made 
 my very soul shudder, — and I burst into tears. 
 
 He flew to me, and actually flung himself at my feet, as if 
 regardless who might see him, saying, ' O, Miss Anville — 
 loveliest of women — forgive my — my — I beseech you forgive 
 me ; — if I have offended, — if I have hurt you — I could kill 
 myself at the thought ! ' 
 
 ' No matter, Sir, no matter,' cried I, ' if I can but find my 
 friends, — I will never speak to, never see you again ! ' 
 
 ' Good God ! — good Heaven ! — my dearest life, what is it I 
 have done ? — what is it I have said ?' 
 
 ' You best know. Sir, what and why ; — but don't hold me 
 here, — let me be gone ; and do you /' 
 
 ' Not till you forgive me ! — I cannot part with you in 
 anger.' 
 
 ' For shame, for shame, Sir I ' cried I indignantly ; ' do you 
 suppose I am to be thus compelled ? — do you take advantage 
 of the absence of my friends, to affront me ?' 
 
 ' No, Madam,' cried he, rising, ' I would sooner forfeit my 
 life than act so mean a part. But you have flung me into 
 amazement unspeakable, and you will not condescend to listen 
 to my request of giving me some explanation.' 
 
 2 34
 
 EVELINA 
 
 % The manner, Sir,' said I, ' in which you spoke that request, 
 made, and will make me scorn to answer it.' 
 
 ' Scorn ! — I will own to you, I expected not such displeasure 
 from Miss Anville.' 
 
 ' Perhaps, Sir, if you had, you would less voluntarily have 
 merited it.' 
 
 ' My dearest life, surely it must be known to you, that the 
 man does not breathe, who adores you so passionately, so 
 fervently, so tenderly as I do ! — why then will you delight in 
 perplexing me ? — in keeping me in suspense — in torturing me 
 with doubt ? — ' 
 
 ' I, Sir, delight in perplexing you ! — You are much mistaken. 
 — Your suspense, your doubts, your perplexities, — are of your 
 own creating ; and believe me, Sir, they may offend, but they 
 can never delight me : — but, as you have yourself raised, you 
 must yourself satisfy them.' 
 
 ' Good God ! — that such haughtiness and such sweetness 
 can inhabit the same mansion ! ' 
 
 I made no answer, but quickening my pace, I walked on 
 silently and sullenly, till this most impetuous of men, snatching 
 my hand, which he grasped with violence, besought me to 
 forgive him, with such earnestness of supplication, that, merely 
 to escape his importunities, I was forced to speak, and, in 
 some measure, to grant the pardon he requested, though it 
 was accorded with a very ill grace : but, indeed, I knew not 
 how to resist the humility of his entreaties : yet never shall I 
 recollect the occasion he gave me of displeasure, without feeling 
 it renewed. 
 
 We now soon arrived in the midst of the general crowd, 
 and my own safety being then ensured, I grew extremely 
 uneasy for the Miss Branghtons, whose danger, however 
 imprudently incurred by their own folly, I too well knew how 
 to tremble for. To this consideration all my pride of heart 
 yielded, and I determined to seek my party with the utmost 
 speed ; though not without a sigh did I recollect the fruitless 
 attempt I had made, after the opera, of concealing from this 
 man my unfortunate connections, which I was now obliged to 
 make known. 
 
 I hastened, therefore, to the room, with a view of sending 
 young Branghton to the aid of his sisters. In a very short 
 time, I perceived Madame Duval, and the rest, looking at one 
 
 235
 
 EVELINA 
 
 of the paintings. I must own to you, honestly, my dear Sir, 
 that an involuntary repugnance seized me, at presenting such a 
 set to Sir Clement, — he who had been used to see me in parties 
 so different ! — My pace slackened as I approached them, — but 
 they presently perceived me. 
 
 ' Ah, Mademoiselle/' cried M. Uu Bois ; ' Que je suis 
 char me de votes voir .' ' 
 
 'Pray, Miss,' cried Mr. Brown, ' where's Miss Polly?' 
 
 'Why, Miss, you've been a long while gone,' said Mr. 
 Branghton ; ' we thought you'd been lost. But what have you 
 done with your cousins ? ' 
 
 I hesitated, — for Sir Clement regarded me with a look of 
 wonder. 
 
 ' Pardi,' cried Madame Duval, ' I shan't let you leave me 
 again in a hurry. Why, here we've been in such a fright ! — 
 and all the while, I suppose, you've been thinking nothing 
 about the matter.' 
 
 'Well,' said young Branghton, 'as long as Missis come 
 back, I don't mind, for, as to Bid and Poll, they can take care 
 of themselves. But the best joke is, Mr. Smith is gone all 
 about a-looking for you.' 
 
 These speeches were made almost all in a breath : but 
 when, at last, they waited for an answer, I told them, that in 
 walking up one of the long alleys, we had been frightened and 
 separated. 
 
 ' The long alleys ! ' repeated Mr. Branghton, ' and pray, 
 what had you to do in the long alleys ? why, to be sure, you 
 must all of you have had a mind to be affronted ! ' 
 
 This speech was not more impertinent to me than sur- 
 prising to Sir Clement, who regarded all the party with evident 
 astonishment. However, I told young Branghton that no time 
 ought to be lost, for that his sisters might require his immediate 
 protection. 
 
 ' But how will they get it ? ' cried this brutal brother ; ' if 
 they've a mind to behave in such a manner as that, they ought 
 to protect themselves ; and so they may for me.' 
 
 ' Well,' said the simple Mr. Brown, ' whether you go or no, 
 I think I may as well see after Miss Polly.' 
 
 The father, then, interfering, insisted that his son should 
 accompany him ; and away they went. 
 
 It was now that Madame Duval first perceived Sir Clement ; 
 236
 
 EVELINA 
 
 to whom, turning with a look of great displeasure, she angrily 
 said, ' Mafoi, so you are corned here, of all the people in the 
 world ! — I wonder, child, you would let such a — such a. person 
 as that keep company with you.' 
 
 ' I am very sorry, Madam,' said Sir Clement, in a tone of 
 surprise, ' if I have been so unfortunate as to offend you ; but 
 I believe you will not regret the honour I now have of attending 
 Miss Anville, when you hear that I have been so happy as to 
 do her some service.' 
 
 Just as Madame Duval, with her usual Ma foi, was be- 
 ginning to reply, the attention of Sir Clement was wholly 
 drawn from her, by the appearance of Mr. Smith, who coming 
 suddenly behind me, and freely putting his hands on my 
 shoulders, cried, ' O ho, my little runaway, have I found you at 
 last ? I have been scampering all over the gardens for you, 
 for I was determined to find you, if you were above ground. — 
 But how could you be so cruel as to leave us ? ' 
 
 I turned round to him, and looked with a degree of contempt 
 that I hoped would have quieted him, but he had not the sense 
 to understand me ; and attempting to take my hand, he added, 
 ' Such a demure-looking lady as you are, who'd have thought 
 of your leading one such a dance? — Come, now, don't be so coy, 
 — only think what a trouble I have had in running after you ! ' 
 
 1 The trouble, Sir,' said I, ' was of your own choice, — not 
 mine.' And I walked round to the other side of Madame 
 Duval. 
 
 Perhaps I was too proud, — but I could not endure that Sir 
 Clement, whose eyes followed him with looks of the most 
 surprised curiosity, should witness his unwelcome familiarity. 
 
 Upon my removal, he came up to me, and, in a low voice, 
 said, 'You are not, then, with the Mirvans ? ' 
 
 ' No, Sir.' 
 
 'And pray — may I ask, — have you left them long?' 
 
 ' No, Sir.' 
 
 ' How unfortunate I am ! — but yesterday I sent to acquaint 
 the Captain I should reach the Grove by to-morrow noon ! 
 However, I shall get away as fast as possible. Shall you lie 
 long in town ? ' 
 
 ' I believe not, Sir.' 
 
 'And then, when you leave it — which way — will you allow 
 me to ask, which way you shall travel ?' 
 
 2 37
 
 '0 ho, my little runaway, have I found you at lastt
 
 EVELINA 
 
 ' Indeed, — I don't know.' 
 
 ' Not know ! — But do you return to the Mirvans any more ? ' 
 
 ' I— I can't tell, Sir.' 
 
 And then I addressed myself to Madame Duval, with such 
 a pretended earnestness, that he was obliged to be silent. 
 
 As he cannot but observe the great change in my situation, 
 which he knows not how to account for, there is something in 
 all these questions, and this unrestrained curiosity, that I did 
 not expect from a man, who when he pleases can be so well- 
 bred, as Sir Clement Willoughby. He seems disposed to 
 think that the alteration in my companions authorises an 
 alteration in his manners. It is true, he has always treated 
 me with uncommon freedom, but never before with so dis- 
 respectful an abruptness. This observation, which he has 
 given me cause to make, of his changing with the tide, has 
 sunk him more in my opinion than any other part of his 
 conduct. 
 
 Yet I could almost have laughed, when I looked at Mr. 
 Smith, who no sooner saw me addressed by Sir Clement, than, 
 retreating aloof from the company, he seemed to lose at once 
 all his happy self-sufficiency and conceit : looking now at the 
 baronet, now at himself, surveying, with sorrowful eyes, his 
 dress, struck with his air, his gestures, his easy gaiety ; he 
 gazed at him with envious admiration, and seemed himself, 
 with conscious inferiority, to shrink into nothing. 
 
 Soon after, Mr. Brown, running up to us, called out, ' La, 
 what, i'n't Miss Polly come yet?' 
 
 'Come!' said Mr. Branghton, 'why, I thought you went to 
 fetch her yourself, didn't you ? ' 
 
 'Yes, but I couldn't find her; — yet I dare say I've been 
 over half the garden.' 
 
 ' Half! but why did not you go over it all ? ' 
 
 ' Why, so I will : but only I thought I'd just come and see 
 if she was here first ? ' 
 
 ' But where's Tom ? ' 
 
 ' Why, I don't know ; for he would not stay with me, all as 
 ever I could say ; for we met some young gentlemen of his 
 acquaintance, and so he bid me go and look by myself, for 
 he said, says he, I can divert myself better another way, 
 says he.' 
 
 This account being given, away again went this silly young 
 ■ 239
 
 EVELINA 
 
 man ! and Mr. Branghton. extremely incensed, said he would 
 go and see after them himself. 
 
 "So now,' cried Madame Duval, 'he's gone too! why, at 
 this rate we shall have to wait for one or other of them all 
 night ! ' 
 
 Observing that Sir Clement seemed disposed to renew his 
 inquiries, I turned towards one of the paintings, and, pretending 
 to be very much occupied in looking at it, asked M. Du Bois 
 some questions concerning the figures. 
 
 ' O, Mon Dieu. n cried Madame Duval, 'don't ask him; 
 your best way is to ask Mr. Smith, for he's been here the 
 oftenest. Come, Mr. Smith, I daresay you can tell us all 
 about them.' 
 
 ' Why, yes, Ma'am, yes,' said Mr. Smith, who, brightening 
 up at this application, advanced towards us, with an air of 
 assumed importance, which, however, sat very uneasily upon 
 him, and begged to know what he should explain first ; ' For 
 I have attended,' said he, 'to all these paintings, and know 
 everything in them perfectly well ; for I am rather fond of 
 pictures, Ma'am; and really, I must say, I think a pretty 
 picture is a — a very — is really a very — is something very 
 pretty.' 
 
 ' So do I too,' said Madame Duval, 'but pray now, Sir, 
 tell us who that is meant for,' pointing to a figure of Neptune. 
 
 'That! — why that, Ma'am, is, — Lord bless me, I can't 
 think how I come to be so stupid, but really I have forgot his 
 name, — and yet, I know it as well as my own, too, — however, 
 he's a General, Ma'am, they are all Generals.' 
 
 I saw Sir Clement bite his lips ; and, indeed, so did I mine. 
 
 'Well,' said Madame Duval, 'it's the oddest dress for a 
 General ever I see ! ' 
 
 'He seems so capital a figure,' said Sir Clement to Mr. 
 Smith, ' that I imagine he must be Generalissimo of the whole 
 army.' 
 
 1 Yes, Sir, yes,' answered Mr. Smith, respectfully bowing, 
 and highly delighted at being thus referred to, ' you are 
 perfectly right, — but I cannot for my life think of his name ; — 
 perhaps, Sir, you may remember it ? ' 
 
 ' No, really,' replied Sir Clement, ' my acquaintance among 
 the Generals is not so extensive.' 
 
 The ironical tone of voice in which Sir Clement spoke 
 240
 
 
 '/ can't think where she can be ! '
 
 EVELINA 
 
 entirely disconcerted Mr. Smith : who, again retiring to a 
 humble distance, seemed sensibly mortified at the failure of his 
 attempt to recover his consequence. 
 
 Soon after, Mr. Branghton returned with his youngest 
 daughter, whom he had rescued from a party of insolent young 
 men ; but he had not yet been able to find the eldest. Miss 
 Polly was really frightened, and declared she would never go 
 into the dark walks again. Her father, leaving her with us, 
 went in quest of her sister. 
 
 While she was relating her adventures, to which nobody 
 listened more attentively than Sir Clement, we saw Mr. Brown 
 enter the room. ' O la!' cried Miss Polly, 'let me hide my- 
 self, and don't tell him I'm come.' 
 
 She then placed herself behind Madame Duval, in such a 
 manner that she could not be seen. 
 
 ' So Miss Polly is not come yet 1 ' said the simple swain ; 
 •well, I can't think where she can be! I've been a-looking, 
 and looking, and looking all about, and I can't find her, all I 
 can do.' 
 
 'Well but, Mr. Brown,' said Mr. Smith, ' sha'n't you go 
 and look for the lady again ? ' 
 
 'Yes, Sir,' said he, sitting down, 'but I must rest me a 
 little bit first. You can't think how tired I am." 
 
 ' O fie, Mr. Brown, fie,' cried Mr. Smith, winking at us, 
 ' tired of looking for a lady ! Co, go, for shame ! ' 
 
 ' So I will, Sir, presently ; but you'd be tired too, if you'd 
 walked so far; besides, I think she's gone out of the garden, 
 or else I must have seen something or other of her.' 
 
 A /ie, /ie, he .' of the tittering Polly, now betrayed her, and 
 so ended this ingenious little artifice. 
 
 At last appeared Mr. Branghton and Miss Biddy, who, 
 with a face of mixed anger and confusion, addressing herself 
 to me, said, ' So, Miss, so you ran away from me ! Well, see 
 if I don't do as much by you, some day or other ! But I 
 thought how it would be, you'd no mind to leave the gentleme)!, 
 though you'd run away from me.'' 
 
 I was so much surprised at this attack, that I could not 
 answer her for very amazement ; and she proceeded to tell us 
 how ill she had been used, and that two young men had been 
 making her walk up and down the dark walks by absolute 
 force, and as fast as ever they could tear her along; and 
 
 242
 
 'XJ'<T(t < /u^«v^ 
 
 As fast as ever they could tear her along.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 many other particulars, which I will not tire you with relating. 
 In conclusion, looking at Mr. Smith, she said, ' But, to be sure, 
 thought I, at least all the company will be looking for me ; so 
 I little expected to find you all here, talking as comfortably as 
 ever you can. However, I know I may thank my cousin for it ! ' 
 
 ' If you mean me, Madam,' said I, very much shocked, ' I 
 am quite ignorant in what manner I can have been accessory 
 to your distress.' 
 
 ' Why, by running away so. If you'd stayed with us, I'll 
 answer for it, Mr. Smith and M. Du Bois would have come to 
 look for us ; but I suppose they could not leave your ladyship.' 
 
 The folly and unreasonableness of this speech would admit 
 of no answer. But what a scene was this for Sir Clement ! 
 his surprise was evident, and, I must acknowledge, my con- 
 fusion was equally great. 
 
 We had now to wait for young Branghton, who did not 
 appear for some time ; and, during this interval, it was with 
 difficulty that I avoided Sir Clement, who was on the rack of 
 curiosity, and dying to speak to me. 
 
 When, at last, the hopeful youth returned, a long and 
 frightful quarrel ensued between him and his father, in which 
 his sisters occasionally joined, concerning his neglect ; and he 
 defended himself only by a brutal mirth, which he indulged at 
 their expense. 
 
 Every one now seemed inclined to depart, — when, as usual, 
 a dispute arose upon the way of our going, whether in a coach 
 or a boat. After much debating, it was determined that we 
 should make two parties, one by the water and the other by 
 land ; for Madame Duval declared she would not, upon any 
 account, go into a boat at night. 
 
 Sir Clement then said, that if she had no carriage in waiting, 
 he should be happy to see her and me safe home, as his was 
 in readiness. 
 
 Fury started into her eyes, and passion inflamed every 
 feature, as she answered, ' Pardi, no — you may take care of 
 yourself, if you please ; but as to me, I promise you I sha'n't 
 trust myself with no such person.' 
 
 He pretended not to comprehend her meaning, yet, to 
 wave a discussion, acquiesced in her refusal. The coach 
 party fixed upon consisted of Madame Duval, M. Du Bois, 
 Miss Branghton, and myself. 
 
 244
 
 EVELINA 
 
 I now began to rejoice, in private, that at least our lodgings 
 Mould be neither seen nor known by Sir Clement. We soon 
 met with a hackney-coach, into which he handed me, and 
 then took leave. 
 
 Madame Duval, having already given the coachman her 
 direction, he mounted the box, and we were just driving off, 
 when Sir Clement exclaimed, ' By Heaven, this is the very 
 coach I had in waiting for myself ! ; 
 
 'This coach, your honour !' said the man, 'no, that it i'n't.' 
 
 Sir Clement, however, swore that it was, and, presently, the 
 man, begging his pardon, said he had really forgotten that he 
 was engaged. 
 
 I have no doubt but that this scheme occurred to him at 
 the moment, and that he made some sign to the coachman 
 which induced him to support it : for there is not the least 
 probability that the accident really happened, as it is most 
 likely his own chariot was in waiting. 
 
 The man then opened the coach-door, and Sir Clement 
 advancing to it, said, ' I don't believe there is another carriage 
 to be had, or I would not incommode you ; but, as it may be 
 disagreeable to you to wait here any longer, I beg you will not 
 get out, for you shall be set down before I am carried home, if 
 you will be so good as to make a little room.' 
 
 And so saying, in he jumped, and seated himself between 
 M. Du Bois and me, while our astonishment at the whole 
 transaction was too great for speech. He then ordered the 
 coachman to drive on, according to the directions he had 
 already received. 
 
 For the first ten minutes no one uttered a word, and then 
 Madame Duval, no longer able to contain herself, exclaimed, 
 ' Ma foi, if this isn't one of the impudentest things ever I see ! ' 
 
 Sir Clement, regardless of this rebuke, attended only to 
 me ; however, I answered nothing he said when I could 
 possibly avoid so doing. Miss Branghton made several 
 attempts to attract his notice, but in vain, for he would not 
 take the trouble of paying her any regard. 
 
 Madame Duval, during the rest of the ride, addn 
 herself to M. Du Bois in French, and in that language ex- 
 claimed with great vehemence against boldness and assurance. 
 
 I was extremely glad when I thought our journey must be 
 nearly at an end, for my situation was very uneasy to me, as 
 
 245
 
 EVELINA 
 
 Sir Clement perpetually endeavoured to take my hand. I 
 looked out of the coach-window, to see if we were near home ; 
 Sir Clement, stooping over me, did the same, and then, in a 
 
 voice of infinite wonder, called out, ' Where the d 1 is the 
 
 man driving to ? — why we are in Broad St. Giles's ! ' 
 
 ' O, he's very right,' cried .Madame Duval, ' so never trouble 
 your head about that, for I shan't go by no directions of yours, 
 I promise you.' 
 
 When, at last, we stopped, at an Hosier's in High Holborn, 
 Sir Clement said nothing, but his eyes, I saw, were very 
 busily employed in viewing the place, and the situation of the 
 house. The coach, he said, belonged to him, and therefore 
 he insisted upon paying for it ; and then he took leave. M. 
 Du Bois walked home with Miss Branghton, and Madame 
 Duval and I retired to our apartments. 
 
 How disagreeable an evening's adventure ! not one of the 
 party seemed satisfied, except Sir Clement, who was in high 
 spirits : but Madame Duval was enraged at meeting with him ; 
 Mr. Branghton, angry with his children ; the frolic of the Miss 
 Branghtons had exceeded their plan, and ended in their own 
 distress ; their brother was provoked that there had been no 
 riot ; Mr. Brown was tired ; and Mr. Smith mortified. As to 
 myself, I must acknowledge, nothing could be more disagreeable 
 to me, than being seen by Sir Clement Willoughby with a 
 party at once so vulgar in themselves, and so familiar to me. 
 
 And you, too, my dear Sir, will, I know, be sorry that I 
 have met him ; however, there is no apprehension of his 
 visiting here, as Madame Duval is far too angry to admit him. 
 
 LETTER XLYII 
 EVELINA IN CONTINUATION 
 
 HOLBORN, />///£ l8. 
 
 Madame Duval rose very late this morning, and, at one 
 o'clock, we had but just breakfasted, when Miss Branghton, 
 her brother, Mr. Smith, and Monsieur Du Bois, called to 
 inquire after our healths. 
 
 This civility in young Branghton, I much suspect, was 
 246
 
 EVELINA 
 
 merely the result of his father's commands ; but his sister and 
 Mr. Smith, I soon found, had motives of their own. Scarce 
 had they spoken to Madame Duval, when, advancing eagerly 
 to me, 'Pray, Ma'am,' said Mr. Smith, 'who was that gentle- 
 man ? ' 
 
 'Pray, Cousin," cried Miss Branghton, 'was not he the 
 same gentleman you ran away with that night at the opera?' 
 
 ' Goodness ! that he was,' said young Branghton ; ' and, I 
 declare, as soon as ever I saw him, I thought I knew his face.' 
 
 ' I'm sure I'll defy you to forget him,' answered his sister, 
 ' if once you had seen him : he is the finest gentleman I ever 
 saw in my life ; don't you think so, Mr. Smith ?' 
 
 ' Why, you won't give the lady time to speak,' said Mr. 
 Smith. ' Pray, Ma'am, what is the gentleman's name ? ' 
 
 ' Willoughby, Sir.' 
 
 ' Willoughby ! I think I have heard the name. Pray, 
 Ma'am, is he married ? ' 
 
 ' Lord, no, that he is not,' cried Miss Branghton ; 'he looks 
 too smart, by a great deal, for a married man. Pray, Cousin, 
 how did you get acquainted with him ? ' 
 
 ' Pray, Miss,' said young Branghton, in the same breath, 
 ' what's his business ? ' 
 
 'Indeed I don't know,' answered I. 
 
 ' Something very genteel, I daresay,' added Miss Branghton, 
 ' because he dresses so fine.' 
 
 ' It ought to be something that brings in a good income,' 
 said Mr. Smith, 'for I'm sure he did not get that suit of clothes 
 he had on under thirty or forty pounds ; for I know the price 
 of clothes pretty well ; — pray, Ma'am, can you tell me what he 
 has a year ? ' 
 
 ' Don't talk no more about him,' cried Madame Duval, ' for 
 I don't like to hear his name ; I believe he's one of the worst 
 persons in the world ; for though I never did him no manner 
 of harm, nor so much as hurt a hair of his head, I know he 
 was an accomplice with that fellow, Captain Mirvan, to take 
 away my life.' 
 
 Everybody but myself now crowding around her for an 
 explanation, a violent rapping at the street-door was unheard ; 
 and, without any previous notice, in the midst of her narration, 
 Sir Clement Willoughby entered the room. They all started, 
 and, with looks of guilty confusion, as if they feared his re- 
 
 247
 
 EVELINA 
 
 sentment for having listened to Madame Duval, they scrambled 
 for chairs, and in a moment were all formally seated. 
 
 Sir Clement, after a general bow, singling out Madame 
 Duval, said, with his usual easiness, ' I have done myself the 
 honour of waiting on you, Madam, to inquire if you have any 
 commands to Howard Grove, whither I am going to-morrow 
 morning.' 
 
 Then, seeing the storm that gathered in her eyes, before he 
 allowed her time to answer, he addressed himself to me : — 
 ' And if you, Madam, have any with which you will honour 
 me, I shall be happy to execute them.' 
 
 ' None at all, Sir.' 
 
 ' None ! — not to Miss Mirvan ! — no message ! no letter ! ' 
 
 ' I wrote to Miss Mirvan yesterday by the post.' 
 
 ' My application should have been earlier, had I sooner 
 known your address.' 
 
 ' Ma/oi,' cried Madame Duval, recovering from her surprise, 
 ' I believe never nobody saw the like of this ! ' 
 
 ' Of what ! Madam ? ' cried the undaunted Sir Clement, 
 turning quick towards her, ' I hope no one has offended 
 you ? ' 
 
 ' You don't hope no such a thing ! ' cried she, half choked 
 with passion, and rising from her chair. This motion was 
 followed by the rest, and, in a moment, everybody stood up. 
 
 Still Sir Clement was not abashed ; affecting to make a 
 bow of acknowledgment to the company in general, he said, 
 'Pray — I beg — ladies, — gentlemen, — pray don't let me 
 disturb you, pray keep your seats.' 
 
 ' Pray, Sir,' said Miss Branghton, moving a chair towards 
 him, 'won't you sit down yourself?' 
 
 ' You are extremely good, Ma'am — rather than make any 
 disturbance.' 
 
 And so saying, this strange man seated himself, as did, in 
 an instant, everybody else, even Madame Duval herself, who, 
 overpowered by his boldness, seemed too full for utterance. 
 
 He then, and with as much composure as if he had been 
 an expected guest, began to discourse on the weather ; — its 
 uncertainty, — the heat of the public places in summer, — the 
 emptiness of the town, — and other such common topics. 
 
 Nobody, however, answered him ; Mr. Smith seemed afraid, 
 young Branghton ashamed, M. Du Bois amazed, Madame 
 
 248
 
 i - I Sir, won't you sit down yourself 1 •
 
 EVELINA 
 
 Duval enraged, and myself determined not to interfere. All 
 that he could obtain was the notice of Miss Branghton, whose 
 nods, smiles, and attention had some appearance of entering 
 into conversation with him. 
 
 At length, growing tired, I suppose, of engaging everybody's 
 eyes and nobody's tongue, addressing himself to Madame 
 Duval and to me, he said, ' I regard myself as peculiarly 
 unfortunate, ladies, in having fixed upon a time for my visit 
 to Howard Grove when you are absent from it.' 
 
 ' So I suppose, Sir, so I suppose,' cried Madame Duval, 
 hastily rising, and the next moment as hastily seating herself, 
 — ' you'll be a-wanting of somebody to make your game of, 
 and so you may think to get me there again ; — but I promise 
 you, Sir, you won't find it so easy a matter to make me a fool : 
 and besides that,' raising her voice, ' I've found you out, I 
 assure you ; so if ever you go to play your tricks upon me 
 again, I'll make no more ado, but go directly to a justice of 
 peace ; so, Sir, if you can't think of nothing but making people 
 ride about the country, at all hours of the night, just for your 
 diversion, why you'll find I know some justices, as well ;tb 
 Justice Tyrrel. 1 
 
 Sir Clement was evidently embarrassed at this attack ; yet 
 he affected a look of surprise, and protested he did not under- 
 stand her meaning. 
 
 ' Well,' cried she, ' if I don't wonder where people can get 
 such impudence ! if you'll say that, you'll say anything ; how- 
 ever, if you swear till you're black in the face, I sha'n't believe 
 you ; for nobody sha'n't persuade me out of my senses, that 
 I'm resolved.' 
 
 ' Doubtless not, Madam,' answered he with some hesitation, 
 ' and I hope you do not suspect I ever had such an intention ; 
 my respect for you ' 
 
 ' O Sir, you're vastly polite, all of a sudden ! but I know 
 what it's all for ; — it's only for what you can get ! — you could 
 treat me like nobody at Howard Grove — but now you see I've 
 a house of my own, you've a mind to wheedle yourself into it ; 
 but I sees your design, so you needn't trouble yourself to take 
 no more trouble about that, for you shall never get nothing at 
 my house, — not so much as a dish of tea — so now, Sir, you 
 see I can play you trick for trick.' 
 
 There was something so extremely gross in this speech, 
 250
 
 EVELINA 
 
 that it even disconcerted Sir Clement, who was too much 
 confounded to make any answer. 
 
 It was curious to observe the effect which his embarrass- 
 ment, added to the freedom with which Madame Duval 
 addressed him, had upon the rest of the company : every one, 
 who before seemed at a loss how, or if at all, to occupy a 
 chair, now filled it with the most easy composure : and Mr. 
 Smith, whose countenance had exhibited the most striking- 
 picture of mortified envy, now began to recover his usual 
 expression of satisfied conceit. Young Branghton, too, who 
 had been apparently awed by the presence of so fine a gentle- 
 man, was again himself, rude and familiar ; while his mouth 
 was wide distended into a broad grin, at hearing his aunt give 
 the beau such a trimming. 
 
 Madame Duval, encouraged by this success, looked around 
 her with an air of triumph, and continued her harangue : ' And 
 so. Sir, I suppose you thought to have had it all your own 
 way, and to have corned here as often as you pleased, and to 
 have got me to Howard Grove again, on purpose to have 
 served me as you did before.; but you shall see I'm as cunning 
 as you, so you may go and find somebody else to use in that 
 manner, and to put your mask on, and to make a fool of; for 
 as to me, if you go to tell me your stories about the Tower 
 again, for a month together, I'll never believe 'em no more ; 
 and I'll promise you, Sir, if you think I like such jokes, you'll 
 find I'm no such person.' 
 
 ' I assure you, Ma'am, — upon my honour — I really don't 
 comprehend — I fancy there is some misunderstanding.' 
 
 ' What, I suppose you'll tell me next you don't know 
 nothing of the matter ? ' 
 
 1 Not a word, upon my honour.' 
 
 O Sir Clement ! thought I, is it thus you prize your 
 honour ! 
 
 • 1'iirdi,' cried Madame Duval, ' this is the most provokingest 
 part of all ! why, you might as well tell me I don't know my 
 own name.' 
 
 ' Here is certainly some mistake ; for I assure you. 
 Ma'am ' 
 
 'Don't assure me nothing,' cried Madame Duval, raising 
 her voice, ' I know what I'm saying, and so do you too ; for 
 did not you tell me all that about the Tower, and about M. 
 
 -5 1
 
 EVELINA 
 
 Uu Bois ? — why M. Du Bois wasn't never there, nor nigh it, 
 and so it was all your own invention.' 
 
 ' May there not be two persons of the same name ? the 
 mistake was but natural.' 
 
 ' Don't tell me of no mistake, for it was all on purpose ; 
 besides, did not you come, all in a mask, to the chariot-door, 
 and help to get me put in that ditch ? — I'll promise you, I've 
 had the greatest mind in the world to take the law of you ever 
 since, and if ever you do as much again, so I will, I assure 
 you 1 ' 
 
 Here Miss Branghton tittered ; Mr. Smith smiled con- 
 temptuously, and young Branghton thrust his handkerchief 
 into his mouth to stop his laughter. 
 
 The situation of Sir Clement, who saw all that passed, 
 became now very awkward, even to himself, and he stammered 
 very much in saying, ' Surely, Madam — surely you — you can- 
 not do me the — the injustice to think — that I had any share in 
 the — the — the misfortune which ' 
 
 1 Ma/oi, Sir,' cried Madame Duval, with increasing passion, 
 ' you'd best not stand talking to me at that rate : I know it 
 was you, — and if you stay there, a-provoking me in such a 
 manner, I'll send for a constable this minute.' 
 
 Young Branghton, at these words, in spite of all his efforts, 
 burst into a loud laugh ; nor could either his sister, or Mr. 
 Smith, though with more moderation, forbear joining in his 
 mirth. 
 
 Sir Clement darted his eyes towards them with looks of 
 the most angry contempt, and then told Madame Duval that 
 he would not now detain her to make his vindication, but 
 would wait on her some time when she was alone. 
 
 ' O fiardi, Sir,' cried she, ' I don't desire none of your 
 company ; and if you wasn't the most boldest person in the 
 world, you would not dare look me in the face.' 
 
 The ha, ha, ha's, and he, he, he's, grew more and more 
 uncontrolable, as if the restraint from which they had burst 
 had added to their violence. Sir Clement could no longer 
 endure being the object who excited them, and, having no 
 answer ready for Madame Duval, he hastily stalked towards 
 Mr. Smith and young Branghton, and sternly demanded what 
 they laughed at ? 
 
 Struck by the air of importance which he assumed, and 
 252
 
 Young Branghton bunt into a loud taugh.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 alarmed at the angry tone of his voice, their merriment ceased 
 as instantaneously as if it had been directed by clock-work, 
 and they stared foolishly, now at him, now at each other, with- 
 out making any answer but a simple ' Nothing, Sir ! ' 
 
 ' O pour le coup,' cried Madame Duval, 'this is too much ! 
 pray, Sir, what business have you to come here a-ordering 
 people that comes to see me ? I suppose next, nobody must 
 laugh but yourself ! ' 
 
 ' With me, Madam,' said Sir Clement, bowing, ' a lady may 
 do anything, and, consequently, there is no liberty in which I 
 shall not be happy to indulge you : — but it has never been my 
 custom to give the same licence to gentlemen.'' 
 
 Then, advancing to me, who had sat very quietly on a 
 window during this scene, he said, ' Miss Anville, I may at 
 least acquaint our friends at Howard Grove that I had the 
 honour of leaving you in good health.' And then, lowering his 
 voice, he added, ' For Heaven's sake, my dearest creature, 
 who are these people ? and how came you so strangely 
 situated ? ' 
 
 ' I beg my respects to all the family, Sir,' answered I, aloud, 
 'and I hope you will find them well.' 
 
 He looked at me reproachfully, but kissed my hand ; and 
 then, bowing to Madame Duval and Miss Branghton, passed 
 hastily by the men, and made his exit. 
 
 I fancy he will not be very eager to repeat his visits, for I 
 should imagine he has rarely, if ever, been before in a situation 
 so awkward and disagreeable. 
 
 Madame Duval has been all spirits and exultation ever 
 since he went, and only wishes Captain Mirvan would call, 
 that she might do the same by him. Mr. Smith, upon hearing 
 that he was a Baronet, and seeing him drive off in a very 
 beautiful chariot, declared that he would not have laughed 
 upon any account had he known his rank, and regretted 
 extremely having missed such an opportunity of making so 
 ge7iteel an acquaintance. Young Branghton vowed, that if he 
 had known as much, he would have asked for his custom : and 
 his sister has sung his praises ever since, protesting she 
 thought, all along, he was a man of quality by his look. 
 
 254
 
 EVELINA 
 
 LETTER XLYIII 
 
 EVELINA IN CONTINUATION 
 
 June 21. 
 
 The last three evenings have passed tolerably quiet, for the 
 Vauxhall adventures had given Madame Duval a surfeit of 
 public places ; home, however, soon growing tiresome, she 
 determined to-night, she said, to relieve her ennui by some 
 amusement ; and it was therefore settled that we should call 
 upon the Branghtons, at their house, and thence proceed to 
 Marybone Gardens. 
 
 But before we reached Snow Hill, we were caught in a 
 shower of rain ; we hurried into the shop, where the first 
 object I saw was Mr. Macartney, with a book in his hand, 
 seated in the same corner where I saw him last ; but his looks 
 were still more wretched than before, his face yet thinner, and 
 his eyes sunk almost hollow into his head. He lifted them up 
 as we entered, and I even thought that they emitted a gleam 
 of joy : involuntarily, I made to him my first curtsy ; he rose 
 and bowed, with a precipitation that manifested surprise and 
 confusion. 
 
 In a few minutes we were joined by all the family, except 
 Mr. Smith, who fortunately was engaged. 
 
 Had all the future prosperity of our lives depended upon 
 the good or bad weather of this evening, it could not have 
 been treated as a subject of greater importance. ' Sure never 
 anything was so unlucky ! ' ' Lord, how provoking ! ' 'It 
 might rain for ever, if it would hold up now ! ' These, and 
 such expressions, with many anxious observations upon the 
 kennels, filled up all the conversation till the shower was over. 
 
 And then a very warm debate arose whether we should 
 pursue our plan, or defer it to some finer evening ; the Miss 
 Branghtons were for the former ; their father was sure it would 
 rain again ; Madame Duval, though she detested returning 
 home, yet dreaded the dampness of the gardens. 
 
 M. Du Bois then proposed going to the top of the house, 
 to examine whether the clouds looked threatening or peaceable ; 
 Miss Branghton, starting at this proposal, said they might go 
 to Mr. Macartney's room, if they would, but not to hers. 
 
 2 55
 
 EVELINA 
 
 This was enough for the brother ; who, with a loud laugh, 
 declared he would have some Jwi, and immediately led the 
 way, calling to us all to follow. His sisters both ran after, 
 but no one else moved. 
 
 In a few minutes young Branghton, coming half-way down- 
 stairs, called out, ' Lord, why don't you all come ? why here's 
 Poll's things all about the room ! ' 
 
 Mr. Branghton then went ; and Madame Duval, who 
 cannot bear to be excluded from whatever is going forward, 
 was handed upstairs by M. Du Bois. 
 
 I hesitated a few moments whether or not to join them ; 
 but, soon perceiving that Mr. Macartney had dropped his 
 book, and that I engrossed his whole attention, I prepared, 
 from mere embarrassment, to follow them. 
 
 As I went, I heard him move from his chair and walk 
 slowly after me. Believing that he wished to speak to me, 
 and earnestly desiring myself to know if, by your means, I 
 could possibly be of any service to him, I first slackened my 
 pace, and then turned back. But, though I thus met him 
 half-way, he seemed to want courage or resolution to address 
 me ; for when he saw me returning, with a look extremely 
 disordered, he retreated hastily from me. 
 
 Not knowing what I ought to do, I went to the street-door, 
 where I stood some time, hoping he would be able to recover 
 himself: but, on the contrary, his agitation increased every 
 moment ; he walked up and down the room in a quick but 
 unsteady pace, seeming equally distressed and irresolute : and, 
 at length, with a deep sigh, he flung himself into a chair. 
 
 I was so much affected by the appearance of such extreme 
 anguish, that I could remain no longer in the room ; I therefore 
 glided by him, and went upstairs ; but, ere I had gone five 
 steps he precipitately followed me, and, in a broken voice, 
 called out, ' Madam ! — for Heaven's sake ' 
 
 He stopped, but I instantly descended, restraining, as well 
 as I was able, the fulness of my own concern. I waited some 
 time, in painful expectation, for his speaking : all that I had 
 heard of his poverty occurring to me, I was upon the point of 
 presenting him my purse, but the fear of mistaking or offending 
 him deterred me. Finding, however, that he continued silent, 
 I ventured to say, ' Did you — Sir, wish to speak to me ? ' 
 
 ' I did ! ' cried he, with quickness, 'but now — I cannot ! ' 
 256
 
 I
 
 EVELINA 
 
 'Perhaps, Sir, another time, — perhaps if you recollect 
 yourself.' 
 
 ' Another time ! ' repeated he mournfully, ' alas ! I look not 
 forward but to misery and despair ! ' 
 
 ' O Sir,' cried I, extremely shocked, ' you must not talk thus ! 
 — if you forsake yourself, how can you expect ' 
 
 I stopped. ' Tell me, tell me,' cried he, with eagerness, 
 ' who you are ? — whence you come ? — and by what strange 
 means you seem to be arbitress and ruler of the destiny of such 
 a wretch as I am ? ' 
 
 ' Would to Heaven,' cried I, ' I could serve you ! ' 
 
 ' You can ! ' 
 
 ' And how ? pray tell me how ? ' 
 
 ' To tell you — is death to me ! yet I will tell you, — I have 
 a right to your assistance, — you have deprived me of the only 
 resource to which I could apply, — and therefore ' 
 
 ' Pray, pray, speak ' ; cried I, putting my hand into my 
 pocket, 'they will be downstairs in a moment !' 
 
 • I will, Madam. — Can you — will you — I think you will ! — 
 
 may I then ' he stopped and paused, 'say, will you- — ■ — ' then 
 
 suddenly turning from me, ' Great Heaven ! I cannot speak ! ' 
 and he went back to the shop. 
 
 I now put my purse in my hand, and following him, said, 
 ' If indeed, Sir, I can assist you, why should you deny me so 
 great a satisfaction ? Will you permit me to ' 
 
 I dared not go on ; but with a countenance very much 
 softened, he approached me, and said, ' Your voice, Madam, is 
 the voice of compassion '. — such a voice as these ears have 
 long been strangers to ! ' 
 
 Just then young Branghton called out vehemently to me, to 
 come upstairs ; I seized the opportunity of hastening away : 
 and therefore saying, ' Heaven, Sir, protect and comfort you ! ' 
 I let fall my purse upon the ground, not daring to present it to 
 him, and ran upstairs with the utmost swiftness. 
 
 Too well do I know you, my ever honoured Sir, to fear your 
 displeasure for this action : I must, however, assure you, I 
 shall need no fresh supply during my stay in town, as I am at 
 little expense, and hope soon to return to Howard Grove. 
 
 Soon, did I say ! when not a fortnight is yet expired of the 
 long and tedious month I must linger out here ! 
 
 I had many witticisms to endure from the Branghtons, upon 
 
 253
 
 EVELINA 
 
 account of my staying so long with the Scotch mope, as they 
 call him ; but I attended to them very little, for my whole 
 heart was filled with pity and concern. I was very glad to find 
 the Marybone scheme was deferred, another shower of rain 
 having- put a stop to the dissension upon this subject ; the rest 
 of the evening was employed in most violent quarrelling be- 
 tween Miss Polly and her brother, on account of the discovery 
 made by the latter of the state of her apartment. 
 
 We came home early ; and I have stolen from Madame 
 Duval and M. Du Bois, who is here for ever, to write to my 
 best friend. 
 
 I am most sincerely rejoiced that this opportunity has 
 offered for my contributing what little relief was in my power 
 to this unhappy man ; and I hope it will be sufficient to enable 
 him to pay his debts to this pitiless family. 
 
 LETTER XLIX 
 
 MR. VILLARS TO EVELINA 
 
 Berry Hill. 
 
 Displeasure ? my Evelina ! — you have but done your duty ; 
 you have but shown that humanity without which I should 
 blush to own my child. It is mine, however, to see that your 
 generosity be not repressed by your suffering from indulging it ; 
 I remit to you, therefore, not merely a token of my approbation, 
 but an acknowledgment of my desire to participate in your 
 charity. 
 
 O my child, were my fortune equal to my confidence in thy 
 benevolence, with what transport should I, through thy means, 
 devote it to the relief of indigent virtue ! yet let us not repine 
 at the limitation of our power, for, while our bounty is propor- 
 tioned to our ability, the difference of the greater or less 
 donation can weigh but little in the scale of justice. 
 
 In reading your account of the misguided man, whose 
 misery has so largely excited your compassion, I am led to 
 apprehend that his unhappy situation is less the effect of 
 misfortune than of misconduct. If he is reduced to that state 
 of poverty represented by the Branghtons, he should endeavour 
 
 2 59
 
 EVELINA 
 
 by activity and industry to retrieve his affairs ; and not pass 
 his time in idle reading in the very shop of his creditor. 
 
 The pistol scene made me shudder : the courage with which 
 you pursued this desperate man, at once delighted and terrified 
 me. Be ever thus, my dearest Evelina, dauntless in the cause 
 of distress ! let no weak fears, no timid doubts, deter you from 
 the exertion of your duty, according to the fullest sense of it 
 that Nature has implanted in your mind. Though gentleness 
 and modesty are the peculiar attributes of your sex, yet fortitude 
 and firmness, when occasion demands them, are virtues as noble 
 and as becoming in women as in men : the right line of conduct 
 is the same for both sexes, though the manner in which it is 
 pursued may somewhat vary, and be accommodated to the 
 strength or weakness of the different travellers. 
 
 There is, however, something so mysterious in all you have 
 yet seen or heard of this wretched man, that I am unwilling to 
 stamp a bad impression of his character, upon so slight and 
 partial a knowledge of it. Where anything is doubtful, the 
 ties of society, and the laws of humanity, claim a favourable 
 interpretation ; but remember, my dear child, that those of 
 discretion have an equal claim to your regard. 
 
 As to Sir Clement Willoughby, I know not how to express 
 my indignation at his conduct. Insolence so insufferable, and 
 the implication of suspicions so shocking, irritate me to a 
 degree of wrath, which I hardly thought my almost worn-out 
 passions were capable of again experiencing. You must con- 
 verse with him no more ; he imagines, from the pliability of 
 your temper, that he may offend you with impunity ; but his 
 behaviour justifies, nay, calls for, your avowed resentment : do 
 not, therefore, hesitate in forbidding him your sight. 
 
 The Branghtons, Mr. Smith, and young Brown, however 
 ill-bred and disagreeable, are objects too contemptible for 
 serious displeasure : yet I grieve much that my Evelina should 
 be exposed to their rudeness and impertinence. 
 
 The very day that this tedious month expires, I shall send 
 Mrs. Clinton to town, who will accompany you to Howard 
 Grove. Your stay there will, I hope, be short, for I feel daily 
 an increasing impatience to fold my beloved child to my 
 bosom ! Arthur Villars. 
 
 260
 
 EVELINA 
 LETTER L 
 
 EVELINA TO THE REV. MR. VILLARS 
 
 HOLBORN , June 27. 
 
 I have just received, my dearest Sir, your kind present, 
 and still kinder letter. Surely never had orphan so little to 
 regret as your grateful Evelina ! Though motherless, though 
 worse than fatherless, bereft from infancy of the two first and 
 greatest blessings of life, never has she had cause to deplore 
 their loss ; never has she felt the omission of a parent's tender- 
 ness, care, or indulgence ; never, but from sorrow for tkem, 
 had reason to grieve at the separation ! Most thankfully do I 
 receive the token of your approbation, and most studiously 
 will 1 endeavour so to dispose of it, as may merit your 
 generous confidence in my conduct. 
 
 Your doubts concerning Mr. Macartney give me some 
 uneasiness. Indeed, Sir, he has not the appearance of a man 
 whose sorrows are the effect of guilt. But I hope, before I 
 leave town, to be better acquainted with his situation, and 
 enabled, with more certainty of his worth, to recommend him 
 to your favour. 
 
 I am very willing to relinquish all acquaintance with Sir 
 Clement YVilloughby, as far as it may depend upon myself 
 so to do ; but indeed, I know not how I should be able to 
 absolutely forbid Mm my sight. 
 
 Miss Mirvan, in her last letter, informs me that he is now 
 at Howard Grove, where he continues in high favour with the 
 Captain, and is the life and spirit of the house. My time, 
 since I wrote last, has passed very quietly, Madame Duval 
 having been kept at home by a bad cold, and the Branghtons 
 by bad weather. The young man, indeed, has called two or 
 three times, and his behaviour, though equally absurd, is more 
 unaccountable than ever : he speaks very little, takes hardly 
 any notice of Madame Duval, and never looks at me without 
 a broad grin. Sometimes he approaches me, as if with 
 intention to communicate intelligence of importance, and then, 
 suddenly stopping short, laughs rudely in my face. 
 
 O how happy shall I be when the worthy Mrs. Clinton 
 arrives ! 
 
 261
 
 His behavioui is more unaccountable than ever.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 June 29. 
 
 Yesterday morning Mr. Smith called, to acquaint us that 
 the Hampstead assembly was to be held that evening ; and 
 then he presented Madame Duval with one ticket, and brought 
 another to me. I thanked him for his intended civility, but 
 told him I was surprised he had so soon forgotten my having 
 already declined going to the ball. 
 
 'Lord, Ma'am,' cried he, 'how should I suppose you was 
 in earnest ? come, come, don't be cross ; here's your Grand- 
 mama ready to take care of you, so you can have no fair 
 objection, for she'll see that I don't run away with you. 
 Besides, Ma'am, I got the tickets on purpose.' 
 
 'If you were determined, Sir,' said I, 'in making me this 
 offer, to allow me no choice of refusal or acceptance, I must 
 think myself less obliged to your intention than I was willing 
 to do.' 
 
 ' Dear Ma'am,' cried he, ' you're so smart, there is no 
 speaking to you ; indeed, you are monstrous smart, Ma'am ! 
 but come, your Grandmama shall ask you, and then I know 
 you'll not be so cruel.' 
 
 Madame Duval was very ready to interfere ; she desired 
 me to make no further opposition, said she should go herself, 
 and insisted upon my accompanying her. It was in vain that 
 I remonstrated ; I only incurred her anger : and Mr. Smith, 
 having given both the tickets to Madame Duval, with an air 
 of triumph said he should call early in the evening, and took 
 leave. 
 
 I was much chagrined at being thus compelled to owe even 
 the shadow of an obligation to so forward a young man ; but 
 I determined that nothing should prevail upon me to dance 
 with him, however my refusal might give offence. 
 
 In the afternoon, when he returned, it was evident that he 
 purposed to both charm and astonish me by his appearance ; 
 he was dressed in a very showy manner, but without any 
 taste ; and the inelegant smartness of his air and deportment, 
 his visible struggle against education to put on the fine 
 gentleman, added to his frequent conscious glances at a 
 dress to which he was but little accustomed, very effectually 
 destroyed his aim of figuring, and rendered all his efforts 
 useless. 
 
 During tea, entered Miss Branghton and her brother. I 
 26^
 
 EVELINA 
 
 was sorry to observe the consternation of the former when she 
 perceived Mr. Smith. I had intended applying to her for 
 advice upon this occasion, but been always deterred by her 
 disagreeable abruptness. Having cast her eyes several times 
 from Mr. Smith to me, with manifest displeasure, she seated 
 herself sullenly in the window, scarce answering Madame 
 Duval's inquiries, and when I spoke to her turning absolutely 
 away from me. 
 
 Mr. Smith, delighted at this mark of his importance, sat 
 indolently quiet on his chair, endeavouring by his looks rather 
 to display than to conceal his inward satisfaction. 
 
 ' Good gracious ! ' cried young Branghton, ' why, you're all 
 as fine as fivepence ! Why. where are you going ?' 
 
 'To the Hampstead ball,' answered Mr. Smith. 
 
 ' To a ball ! ' cried he, ' why. what, is Aunt going to a 
 ball ? Ha, ha, ha ! ' 
 
 ' Yes, to be sure,' cried Madame Duval : ' I don't know 
 nothing need hinder me.' 
 
 ' And pray, Aunt, will you dance too ? ' 
 
 ' Perhaps I may ; but I suppose, Sir, that's none of your 
 business, whether I do or not.' 
 
 ' Lord ! well, I should like to go ! I should like to see 
 Aunt dance, of all things ! But the joke is, I don't believe 
 she'll get ever a partner.' 
 
 ' You're the most rudest boy ever I see,' cried Madame 
 Duval angrily: 'but, I promise you, I'll tell your father what 
 you say, for I've no notion of such vulgarness.' 
 
 ' Why, Lord, Aunt, what are you so angry for ? there's no 
 speaking a word but you fly into a passion : you're as bad as 
 Biddy or Poll for that, for you're always a-scolding.' 
 
 'I desire, Tom,' cried Miss Branghton, 'you'd speak for 
 yourself, and not make so free with my name.' 
 
 'There, now, she's up ! there's nothing but quarrelling with the 
 women ; it's my belief they like it better than victuals and drink.' 
 
 'Fie, Tom,' cried Mr. Smith, 'you never remember your 
 manners before the ladies : I'm sure you never heard me speak 
 so rude to them.' 
 
 ' Why, Lord, you are a beau ; but that's nothing to me. 
 So, if you've a mind, you may be so polite as to dance with 
 Aunt yourself.' Then, with a loud laugh, he declared it would 
 be good fun to see them. 
 
 264
 
 
 ^Wurvt^iAt 
 
 J/n Smith sat indolently quiet on his chair.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 ' Let it be never so good, or never so bad,' cried Madame 
 Duval, ' you won't see nothing of it, I promise you ; so pray 
 don't let me hear no more of such vulgar pieces of fun ; for, I 
 assure you, I don't like it. And as to my dancing with Mr. 
 Smith, you may see wonderfuller things than that any day in 
 the week.' 
 
 'Why, as to that, Ma'am,' said Mr. Smith, looking much 
 surprised, ' I always thought you intended to play at cards, 
 and so I thought to dance with the young lady.' 
 
 I gladly seized this opportunity to make my declaration, 
 that I should not dance at all. 
 
 ' Not dance at all ! ' repeated Miss Branghton ; ' yes, that's 
 a likely matter truly when people go to balls.' 
 
 'I wish she mayn't,' said the brother; "cause then Mr. 
 Smith will have nobody but Aunt for a partner. Lord, how 
 mad he'll be ! ' 
 
 ' O, as to that,' said Mr. Smith, ' I don't at all fear prevailing 
 with the young lady if once I get her to the room.' 
 
 ' Indeed. Sir,' cried I, much offended by his conceit, ' you 
 are mistaken ; and therefore I beg leave to undeceive you, as 
 you may be assured my resolution will not alter.' 
 
 'Then pray, Miss, if it is not impertinent,' cried Mis^ 
 Branghton, sneeringly, ' what do you go for ? ' 
 
 ' Merely and solely,' answered I, ' to comply with the 
 request of Madame Duval.' 
 
 'Miss,' cried Young Branghton, 'Bid only wishes it was 
 she, for she has cast a sheep's eye at Mr. Smith this long 
 while.' 
 
 'Tom,' cried the sister, rising, 'I've the greatest mind in 
 the world to box your ears ! How dare you say such a thing 
 of me ? ' 
 
 ' No, hang it, Tom, no, that's wrong,' said Mr. Smith, 
 simpering, ' it is indeed, to tell the lady's secrets. But never 
 mind him, Miss Biddy, for I won't believe him.' 
 
 ' Why, I know Bid would give her ears to go,' returned the 
 brother ; 'but only Mr. Smith likes Miss best, — so does every- 
 body else.' 
 
 While the sister gave him a very angry answer, Mr. Smith 
 said to me in a low voice, ' Why now, Ma'am, how can you be 
 so cruel as to be so much handsomer than your cousins ? 
 Nobody can look at them when you are by.' 
 
 266
 
 ' I've the gi'eattst mind in the world to box yourectn I
 
 EVELINA 
 
 ' Miss,' cried young Branghton, ' whatever he says to you, 
 don't mind him, for he means no good ; I'll give you my word 
 for it, he'll never marry you, for he has told me again and 
 again he'll never marry as long as he lives ; besides, if he'd 
 any mind to be married, there's Bid would have had him long 
 ago, and thanked him too.' 
 
 ' Come, come, Tom, don't tell secrets ; you'll make the 
 ladies afraid of me ; but, I assure you,' lowering his voice, ' if 
 I did marry, it should be your cousin.' 
 
 Should be ! — did you ever, my dear Sir, hear such un- 
 authorised freedom ? I looked at him with a contempt I did 
 not wish to repress, and walked to the other end of the room. 
 
 Very soon after, Mr. Smith sent for a hackney-coach. 
 When I would have taken leave of Miss Branghton, she 
 turned angrily from me, without making any answer. She 
 supposes, perhaps, that I have rather sought, than endeavoured 
 to avoid, the notice and civilities of this conceited young man. 
 
 The ball was at the long room at Hampstead. 
 
 This room seems very well named, for I believe it would be 
 difficult to find any other epithet which might, with propriety, 
 distinguish it, as it is without ornament, elegance, or any sort 
 of singularity, and merely to be marked by its length. 
 
 I was saved from the importunities of Mr. Smith the 
 beginning of the evening, by Madame Duval declaring her 
 intention to dance the two first dances with him herself. .Mr. 
 Smith's chagrin was very evident, but as she paid no regard to 
 it, he was necessitated to lead her out. 
 
 I was, however, by no means pleased when she said she 
 was determined to dance a minuet. Indeed, I was quite 
 astonished, not having had the least idea she would have 
 consented to, much less proposed, such an exhibition of her 
 person. She had some trouble to make her intentions known, 
 as Mr. Smith was rather averse to speaking to the master of 
 the ceremonies. 
 
 During this minuet, how much did I rejoice in being sur- 
 rounded only with strangers ! She danced in a style so 
 uncommon ; her age, her showy dress, and an unusual 
 quantity of rouge, drew upon her the eyes, and, I fear, the 
 derision, of the whole company. Who she danced with, I 
 know not ; but Mr. Smith was so ill-bred as to laugh at her 
 very openly, and to speak of her with as much ridicule as was 
 
 268
 
 EVELINA 
 
 in his power. But I would neither look at, nor listen to him ; 
 nor would I suffer him to proceed with a speech which he 
 began, expressive of his vexation at being forced to dance with 
 her. I told him, very gravely, that complaints upon such a 
 subject might, with less impropriety, be made to every person 
 in the room, than to me. 
 
 When she returned to us, she distressed me very much by 
 asking what I thought of her minuet. I spoke as civilly as I 
 could, but the coldness of my compliment evidently disappointed 
 her. She then called upon Mr. Smith to secure a good place 
 among the country-dancers ; and away they went, though not 
 before he had taken the liberty to say to me, in a low voice, 
 * I protest to you, Ma'am, I shall be quite out of countenance, 
 if any of my acquaintance should see me dancing with the old 
 lady ! ' 
 
 For a few moments I very much rejoiced at being relieved 
 from this troublesome man ; but scarce had I time to con- 
 gratulate myself, before I was accosted by another, who begged 
 the favour of hopping a dance with me. 
 
 I told him that I should not dance at all ; but he thought 
 proper to importune me, very freely, not to be so cruel ; and I 
 was obliged to assume no little haughtiness before I could 
 satisfy him I was serious. 
 
 After this, I was addressed, much in the same manner, by 
 several other young men, of whom the appearance and language 
 were equally inelegant and low-bred : so that I soon found my 
 situation was both disagreeable and improper ; since, as I was 
 quite alone, I fear I must seem rather to invite, than to forbid, 
 the offers and notice I received. And yet, so great was my 
 apprehension of this interpretation, that I am sure, my dear 
 Sir, you would have laughed had you seen how proudly grave 
 I appeared. 
 
 I knew not whether to be glad or sorry when Madame 
 Duval and Mr. Smith returned. The latter instantly renewed 
 his tiresome entreaties, and Madame Duval said she would go 
 to the card-table : and as soon as she was accommodated, she 
 desired us to join the dancers. 
 
 I will not trouble you with the arguments which followed. 
 Mr. Smith teased me till I was weary of resistance ; and I 
 should at last have been obliged to submit, had I not fortu- 
 nately recollected the affair of Mr. Lovel, and told my persecutor 
 
 269
 
 EVELINA 
 
 that it was impossible I should dance with him, even if I wished 
 it, as I had refused several persons in his absence. 
 
 He was not contented with being extremely chagrined, but 
 took the liberty, openly and warmly, to expostulate with me 
 upon not having said I was engaged. 
 
 The total disregard with which, involuntarily, I heard him, 
 made him soon change the subject. In truth, I had no power 
 to attend to him, for all my thoughts were occupied in retracing 
 the transactions of the two former balls at which I had been 
 present. The party — the conversation — the company — O how 
 great the contrast ! 
 
 In a short time, however, he contrived to draw my attention 
 to himself, by his extreme impertinence ; for he chose to ex- 
 press what he called his admiration of me, in terms so open 
 and familiar, that he forced me to express my displeasure with 
 equal plainness. 
 
 But how was I surprised, when I found he had the temerity 
 — what else can I call it ? — to impute my resentment to doubts 
 of his honour ; for he said, ' My dear Ma'am, you must be a 
 little patient ; I assure you I have no bad designs, I have not, 
 upon my word ; but really there is no resolving upon such a 
 thing as matrimony all at once ; what with the loss of one's 
 liberty, and what with the ridicule of all one's acquaintance, — 
 I assure you, Ma'am, you are the first lady who ever made me 
 even demur upon this subject ; for, after all, my dear Ma'am, 
 marriage is the devil ! : 
 
 'Your opinion, Sir,' answered I, 'of either the married or 
 the single life, can be of no manner of consequence to me, and 
 therefore I would by no means trouble you to discuss their 
 different merits.' 
 
 ' Why, really. Ma'am, as to your being a little out of sorts, 
 I must own I can't wonder at it, for, to be sure, marriage is 
 all in all with the ladies ; but with us gentlemen it's quite 
 another thing ! Now only put yourself in my place, — suppose 
 you had such a large acquaintance of gentlemen as I have, — 
 and that you had always been used to appear a little — a little 
 smart among them, — why now, how should you like to let 
 yourself down all at once into a married man ?' 
 
 I could not tell what to answer ; so much conceit, and so 
 much ignorance, both astonished and silenced me. 
 
 'I assure you, Ma'am,' added he, 'there is not only Miss 
 270
 
 EVELINA 
 
 Biddy, — though I should have scorned to mention her, if her 
 brother had not blab'd, for I'm quite particular in keeping 
 ladies' secrets, — but there are a great many other ladies that 
 have been proposed to me, — but I never thought twice of any 
 of them, that is, not in a serious way, — so you may very well 
 be proud,' offering to take my hand, 'for I assure you, there is 
 nobody so likely to catch me at last as yourself.' 
 
 'Sir,' cried I, drawing myself back as haughtily as I could, 
 ' you are totally mistaken, if you imagine you have given me 
 any pride I felt not before, by this conversation ; on the 
 contrary, you must allow me to tell you, I find it too humili- 
 ating to bear with it any longer.' 
 
 I then placed myself behind the chair of Madame Duval ; 
 who, when she heard of the partners I had refused, pitied my 
 ignorance of the world, but no longer insisted upon my dancing. 
 
 Indeed, the extreme vanity of this man makes me exert a 
 spirit which I did not till now know that I possessed : but I 
 cannot endure that he should think me at his disposal. 
 
 The rest of the evening passed very quietly, as Mr. Smith 
 did not again attempt speaking to me ; except, indeed, after 
 we had left the room, and while Madame Duval was seating 
 herself in the coach, he said, in a voice of piqite, ' Next time 
 I take the trouble to get any tickets for a young lady, I'll make 
 a bargain beforehand that she sha'n't turn me over to her 
 grandmother.' 
 
 We came home very safe ; and thus ended this so long 
 projected and most disagreeable affair. 
 
 LETTER LI 
 
 EVELINA IX CONTINUATION 
 
 I have just received a most affecting letter from Mr. 
 Macartney. I will enclose it, my dear Sir, fur your perusal. 
 More than ever have I cause to rejoice that I was able to 
 assist him. 
 
 MR. MACARTNEY TO MISS ANVILLE 
 
 Madam, Impressed with the deepest, the most heart-felt 
 sense of the exalted humanity with which you have rescued 
 
 271
 
 EVELINA 
 
 from destruction an unhappy stranger, allow me, with the 
 humblest gratitude, to offer you my fervent acknowledgments, 
 and to implore your pardon for the terror I have caused you. 
 
 You bid me, Madam, live : I have now, indeed, a motive 
 for life, since I should not willingly quit the world, while I 
 withhold from the needy and distressed any share of that 
 charity which a disposition so noble would, otherwise, bestow 
 upon them. 
 
 The benevolence with which you have interested yourself in 
 my affairs, induces me to suppose you would wish to be 
 acquainted with the cause of that desperation from which you 
 snatched me, and the particulars of that misery of which you 
 have, so wonderfully, been a witness. Yet, as this explanation 
 will require that I should divulge secrets of a nature the most 
 delicate, I must entreat you to regard them as sacred, even 
 though I forbear to mention the names of the parties con- 
 cerned. 
 
 I was brought up in Scotland, though my mother, who had 
 the sole care of me, was an Englishwoman, and had not one 
 relation in that country. She devoted to me her whole time. 
 The retirement in which we lived, and the distance from our 
 natural friends, she often told me, were the effect of an uncon- 
 querable melancholy with which she was seized, upon the 
 sudden loss of my father, some time before I was born. 
 
 At Aberdeen, where I finished my education, I formed a 
 friendship with a young man of fortune, which I considered as 
 the chief happiness of my life ; but when he quitted his studies, 
 I considered it as my chief misfortune, for he immediately 
 prepared, by direction of his friends, to make the tour of 
 Europe. As I was designed for the church, and had no 
 prospect even of maintenance but from my own industry, I scarce 
 dared permit even a wish of accompanying him. It is true, he 
 would joyfully have borne my expenses ; but my affection was 
 as free from meanness as his own, and I made a determination 
 the most solemn, never to lessen its dignity by submitting to 
 pecuniary obligations. 
 
 We corresponded with great regularity, and the most un- 
 bounded confidence, for the space of two years, when he 
 arrived at Lyons in his way home. He wrote me, thence, 
 the most pressing invitation to meet him at Paris, where he 
 intended to remain some time. My desire to comply with his 
 
 2 72
 
 EVELINA 
 
 request, and shorten our absence, was so earnest, that my 
 mother, too indulgent to control me, lent me what assistance 
 was in her power, and, in an ill-fated moment, I set out for 
 that capital. 
 
 My meeting with this dear friend was the happiest event of 
 my life : he introduced me to all his acquaintance ; and so 
 quickly did time seem to pass at that delightful period, that 
 the six weeks I had allotted for my stay were gone ere I was 
 sensible I had missed so many days. But I must now own 
 that the company of my friend was not the sole subject of my 
 felicity : I became acquainted with a young lady, daughter of 
 an Englishman of distinction, with whom I formed an attach- 
 ment which I have a thousand times vowed, a thousand times 
 sincerely thought, would be lasting as my life. She had but 
 just quitted a convent, in which she had been placed when 
 a child, and though English by birth she could scarcely 
 speak her native language. Her person and disposition were 
 equally engaging ; but chiefly I adored her for the greatness 
 of the expectations which, for my sake, she was willing to 
 resign. 
 
 When the time for my residence at Paris expired, I was 
 almost distracted at the idea of emitting her ; yet I had not the 
 courage to make our attachment known to her father, who 
 might reasonably form for her such views as would make him 
 reject, with a contempt which I could not bear to think of, 
 such an offer as mine. Vet I had free access to the house, 
 where she seemed to be left almost wholly to the guidance of 
 an old servant, who was my fast friend. 
 
 But, to be brief, the sudden and unexpected return of her 
 father, one fatal afternoon, proved the beginning of the misery 
 which has ever since devoured me. I doubt not but he had 
 listened to our conversation, for he darted into the room with 
 the rage of a madman. Heavens ! what a scene followed ! — 
 what abusive language did the shame of a clandestine affair, 
 and the consciousness of acting ill, induce me to brook ! At 
 length, however, his fury exceeded my patience, — he called 
 me a beggarly, cowardly Scotchman. Fired at the words, I 
 drew my sword : he, with equal alertness, drew his : for he 
 was not an old man, but, on the contrary, strong and able 
 as myself. In wain hi i pli aded ; — in vain did I, 
 
 repentant of my anger, retreat : — his reproaches continued ; 
 
 273 T
 
 EVELINA 
 
 myself, my country, were loaded with infamy, till, no longer 
 .constraining my rage, — we fought, and he fell ! 
 
 At that moment I could almost have destroyed myself! 
 The young lady fainted with terror ; the old servant, drawn to 
 us by the noise of the scuffle, entreated me to escape, and 
 promised to bring intelligence of what should pass to my 
 apartment. The disturbance which I heard raised in the 
 
 In vain his daughter pleaded. 
 
 house obliged me to comply, and in a state of mind incon- 
 ceivably wretched, I tore myself away. 
 
 My friend, whom I found at home, soon discovered the 
 whole affair. It was near midnight before the woman came. 
 She told me that her master was living, and her young mistress 
 restored to her senses. The absolute necessity for my leaving 
 Paris, while any danger remained, was forcibly urged by my 
 friend: the servant promised to acquaint him of whatever 
 
 274
 
 EVELINA 
 
 passed, and he to transmit to me her information. Thus 
 circumstanced, with the assistance of this dear friend, I effected 
 my departure from Paris, and, not long after, I returned to 
 Scotland. I would fain have stopped by the way, that I might 
 have been nearer the scene of all my concerns, but the low 
 state of my finances denied me that satisfaction. 
 
 The miserable situation of my mind was soon discovered by 
 my mother : nor would she rest till I communicated the cause. 
 She heard my whole story with an agitation which astonished 
 me ; the name of the parties concerned, seemed to strike her 
 with horror; but when I said, We fought, and ke fell, — 'My 
 son,' cried she, ' you have then murdered your father ! ' and she 
 sank breathless at my feet. Comments, Madam, upon such a 
 scene as this, would to you be superfluous, and to me agonizing : 
 I cannot, for both our sakes, be too concise. When she re- 
 covered, she confessed all the particulars of a tale which she 
 had hoped never to have revealed. Alas ! the loss she had 
 sustained of my father was not by death ! — bound to her by no 
 ties but those of honour, he had voluntarily deserted her ! — 
 Her settling in Scotland was not the effect of choice, — she was 
 banished thither by a family but too justly incensed ; — pardon 
 Madam, that I cannot be more explicit ! 
 
 My senses, in the greatness of my misery, actually forsook 
 me, and for more than a week I was wholly delirious. My 
 unfortunate mother was yet more to be pitied, for she pined 
 with unmitigated sorrow, eternally reproaching herself for the 
 danger to which her too strict silence had exposed me. When 
 I recovered my reason, my impatience to hear from Paris 
 almost deprived me of it again : and though the length of time 
 I waited for letters might justly be attributed to contrary winds, 
 I could not bear the delay, and was twenty times upon the 
 point of returning thither at all hazards. At length, however, 
 several letters arrived at once, and from the most insupportable 
 of my afflictions I was then relieved, for they acquainted me 
 that the horrors of parricide were not in reserve for me. They 
 informed me also, that as soon as the wound was healed, a 
 journey would be made to England, where my unhappy sister 
 was to be received by an aunt with whom she was to live. 
 
 This intelligence somewhat quieted the violence of my 
 sorrows. I instantly formed a plan of meeting them in London, 
 and, by revealing the whole dreadful story, convincing this 
 
 275
 
 EVELINA 
 
 irritated parent that he had nothing more to apprehend from 
 his daughter's unfortunate choice. My mother consented, and 
 gave me a letter to prove the truth of my assertions. As I 
 could but ill afford to make this journey, I travelled in the 
 cheapest way that was possible. I took an obscure lodging, — 
 I need not, Madam, tell you where, — and boarded with the 
 people of the house. 
 
 Here I languished, week after week, vainly hoping for the 
 arrival of my family j but my impetuosity had blinded me to 
 the imprudence of which I was guilty in quitting Scotland so 
 hastily. My wounded father, after his recovery, relapsed ; and 
 when I had waited in the most comfortless situation for six 
 weeks, my friend wrote me word that the journey was yet 
 deferred for some time longer. 
 
 My finances were then nearly exhausted, and I was obliged, 
 though most unwillingly, to beg further assistance from my 
 mother, that I might return to Scotland. Oh ! Madam ! — my 
 answer was not from herself, — it was written by a lady who 
 had long been her companion, and acquainted me that she 
 had been taken suddenly ill of a fever, — and was no more ! 
 
 The compassionate nature of which you have given such 
 noble proofs, assures me I need not, if I could, paint to you 
 the anguish of a mind overwhelmed with such accumulated 
 sorrows. 
 
 Inclosed was a letter to a near relation, which she had, 
 during her illness, with much difficulty, written, and in which, 
 with the strongest maternal tenderness, she described my 
 deplorable situation, and entreated his interest to procure me 
 some preferment. Yet, so sunk was I by misfortune, that a 
 fortnight elapsed before I had the courage or spirit to attempt 
 delivering this letter. I was then compelled to it by want. 
 To make my appearance with some decency, I was necessitated, 
 myself, to the melancholy task of changing my coloured clothes 
 for a suit of mourning ; — and then I proceeded to seek my 
 relation. 
 
 I was informed that he was not in town. 
 
 In this desperate situation, the pride of my heart, which 
 hitherto had not bowed to adversity, gave way, and I de- 
 termined to entreat the assistance of my friend, whose offered 
 services I had a thousand times rejected. Yet, Madam, so 
 hard is it to root from the mind its favourite principles, or 
 
 276
 
 EVELINA 
 
 prejudices, call them which you please, that I lingered another 
 week ere I had the resolution to send away a letter which I 
 regaded as the death of my independence. 
 
 At length, reduced to my last shilling, dunned insolently by 
 the people of the house, and almost famished, I sealed this 
 fatal letter, and, with a heavy heart, determined to take it to the 
 post-office. But Mr. Branghton and his son suffered me not to 
 pass through their shop with impunity ; they insulted uie 
 grossly, and threatened me with imprisonment, if I did not 
 immediately satisfy their demands. Stung to the soul, I bid 
 them have but a day's patience, and flung from them, in a 
 state of mind too terrible for description. 
 
 My letter, which I now found would be received too late to 
 save me from disgrace, I tore into a thousand pieces, and 
 scarce could I refrain from putting an instantaneous, an un- 
 licensed period to my existence. 
 
 In this disorder of my senses, I formed the horrible plan 
 of turning footpad ; for which purpose I returned to my 
 lodging, and collected whatever of my apparel I could part 
 with, which I immediately sold, and with the profits purchased 
 a brace of pistols, powder, and shot. I hope, however, you 
 will believe me, when I most solemnly assure you, my sole 
 intention was to frighten the passengers I should assault with 
 these dangerous weapons, which I had not loaded, but from a 
 resolution, — a dreadful one, I own, — to save myself from an 
 ignominious death if seized. And indeed, I thought that if I 
 could but procure money sufficient to pay Mr. Branghton, and 
 make a journey to Scotland, I should soon be able, by the 
 public papers, to discover whom I had injured, and to make 
 private retribution. 
 
 But, Madam, new to every species of villany, my perturba- 
 tion was so great that I could with difficulty support myself: 
 yet the Branghtons observed it not as I passed through the 
 shop. 
 
 Here I stop : what followed is better known to yourself. 
 But no time can ever efface from my memory that moment, 
 when in the very action of preparing for my own destruction, 
 or the lawless seizure of the property of others, you rushed 
 into the room, and arrested my arm ! It was, indeed, an 
 awful moment !— the hand of Providence seemed to intervene 
 between me and eternity; I beheld you as an angel! — I 
 
 -77
 
 EVELINA 
 
 thought you dropped from the clouds ; — the earth, indeed, had 
 never before presented to my view a form so celestial ! — What 
 wonder, then, that a spectacle so astonishing should, to a man 
 disordered as I was, appear too beautiful to be human ? 
 
 And now, Madam, that I have performed this painful task, 
 the more grateful one remains of rewarding, as far as is in my 
 power, your generous goodness, by assuring you it shall not 
 be thrown away. You have awakened me to a sense of the 
 false pride by which I have been actuated, — a pride which, 
 while it scorned assistance from a friend, scrupled not to compel 
 it from a stranger, though at the hazard of reducing that 
 stranger to a situation as destitute as my own. Yet, oh ! 
 how violent was the struggle which tore my conflicting soul, 
 ere I could persuade myself to profit by the benevolence which 
 you were so evidently disposed to exert in my favour ! 
 
 By means of a ring, the gift of my much-regretted mother, 
 I have for the present satisfied Mr. Branghton ; and by means 
 of your compassion, I hope to support myself, either till I hear 
 from my friend, to whom, at length, I have written, or till the 
 relation of my mother returns to town. 
 
 To talk to you, Madam, of paying my debt, would be v;iin ; 
 I never can ! the service you have done me exceeds all power 
 of return ; you have restored me to my senses, you have 
 taught me to curb those passions which bereft me of them, 
 and, since I cannot avoid calamity, to bear it as a man ! An 
 interposition so wonderfully circumstanced can never be 
 recollected without benefit. Yet allow me to say, the pecuniary 
 part of my obligation must be settled by my first ability. 
 
 I am, Madam, with the most profound respect, and heart- 
 felt gratitude, — Your obedient, and devoted humble servant, 
 
 J. Macartney. 
 
 LETTER LII 
 
 EVELINA IN CONTINUATION 
 
 HOLBORN, July I, 5 o'clock in the morn. 
 O Sir, what an adventure have I to write ! — all night it has 
 occupied my thoughts, and I am now risen thus early to write 
 it to you. 
 
 278
 
 EVELINA 
 
 Yesterday it was settled that we should spend the evening 
 in Marybone Gardens, where Mr. Torre, a celebrated foreigner, 
 was to exhibit some fireworks. The party consisted of Madame 
 Duval, all the Branghtons, M. Du Bois, Mr. Smith, and Mr. 
 Brown. 
 
 We were almost the first persons who entered the Gardens, 
 Mr. Branghton having declared he would have all he could 
 get for /lis money, which, at best, was only fooled away, at 
 such silly and idle places. 
 
 We walked in parties, and very much detached from one 
 another : Mr. Brown and Miss Polly led the way by them- 
 selves ; Miss Branghton and Mr. Smith followed, and the 
 latter seemed determined to be revenged for my behaviour at 
 the ball, by transferring all his former attention for me to 
 Miss Branghton, who received it with an air of exultation : 
 and very frequently they each of them, though from different 
 motives, looked back to discover whether I observed their 
 good intelligence. Madame Duval walked with M. Du Bois ; 
 and Mr. Branghton by himself; but his son would willingly 
 have attached himself wholly to me, saying frequently, ' Come, 
 Miss, let's you and I have a little fun together; you see they 
 have all left us, so now let us leave them.' But I begged to 
 be excused, and went to the other side of Madame Duval. 
 
 This Garden, as it is called, is neither striking for magnifi- 
 cence nor for beauty ; and we were all so dull and languid, 
 that I was extremely glad when we were summoned to the 
 orchestra, upon the opening of a concert, in the course of 
 which I had the pleasure of hearing a concerto on the violin 
 by Mr. Barthelemon, who, to me, seems a player of exquisite 
 fancy, feeling, and variety. 
 
 When notice was given us that the fireworks were preparing, 
 we hurried along to secure good places for the sight : but, 
 very soon, we were so encircled and incommoded by the 
 crowd, that Mr. Smith proposed the ladies should make 
 interest for a form to stand upon ; this was soon effected, and 
 the men then left us, to accommodate themselves better, saying 
 they would return the moment the exhibition was over. 
 
 The firework was really beautiful, and told, with wonderful 
 ingenuity, the story of Orpheus and Eurydice ; but, at the 
 moment of the fatal look, which separated them for ever, 
 there was such an explosion of fire, and so horrible a noise, 
 
 279
 
 ' 
 
 They frequently looked back.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 that we all, as of one accord, jumped hastily from the form, 
 and ran away some paces, fearing that we were in danger of 
 mischief, from the innumerable sparks of fire which glittered 
 in the air. 
 
 For a moment or two, I neither knew nor considered 
 whither I had run ; but my recollection was soon awakened 
 by a stranger addressing me with, ' Come along with me, my 
 dear, and I'll take care of you.' 
 
 I started, and then, to my great terror, perceived that I 
 had out-run all my companions, and saw not one human being 
 I knew ! with all the speed in my power, and forgetful of my 
 first fright, I hastened back to the place I had left — but found 
 the form occupied by a new set of people. 
 
 In vain, from side to side, I looked for some face I knew ; 
 I found myself in the midst of a crowd, yet without party, 
 friend, or acquaintance. I walked, in disordered haste, from 
 place to place, without knowing which way to turn, or 
 whither I went. Every other moment I was spoken to by 
 some bold and unfeeling man, to whom my distress, which, I 
 think, must be very apparent, only furnished a pretence for 
 impertinent witticisms or free gallantry. 
 
 At last, a young officer, marching fiercely up to me, said, 
 ' You are a sweet pretty creature, and I enlist you in my 
 service'; and then, with great violence, he seized my hand. 
 I screamed aloud with fear, and, forcibly snatching it away, I 
 ran hastily up to two ladies, and cried, ' For Heaven's sake, 
 dear ladies, afford me some protection ! ' 
 
 They heard me with a loud laugh, but very readily said, 
 ' Ay, let her walk between us ' ; and each of them took hold of 
 an arm. 
 
 Then, in a drawling, ironical tone of voice, they asked 
 what had frightened my little Ladyship? I told them my 
 adventure very simply, and entreated they would have the 
 goodness to assist me in finding my friends. 
 
 O yes, to be sure, they said, I should not want for friends 
 whilst I was with them. Mine, I said, would be very grateful 
 for any civilities with which they might favour me. But 
 imagine, my dear Sir, how I must be confounded, when I 
 observed that every other word I spoke produced a loud 
 laugh ! However, I will not dwell upon a conversation which 
 soon, to my inexpressible horror, convinced me I had sought 
 
 281
 
 EVELINA 
 
 protection from insult of those who were themselves most 
 likely to offer it ! You, my dearest Sir, I well know, will both 
 feel for and pity my terror, which I have no words to describe. 
 
 Had I been at liberty, I should have instantly run away 
 from them, when I made the shocking discovery ; but, as they 
 held me fast, that was utterly impossible : and such was my 
 dread of their resentment or abuse, that I did not dare make 
 any open attempt to escape. 
 
 They asked me a thousand questions, accompanied by as 
 many halloos, of who I was, what I was, and whence I came. 
 My answers were very incoherent, — but what, good Heaven, 
 were my emotions, when, a few moments afterwards, I perceived 
 advancing our way — Lord Orville ! 
 
 Never shall I forget what I felt at that instant : had I, 
 indeed, been sunk to the guilty state which such companions 
 might lead him to suspect, I could scarce have had feelings 
 more cruelly depressing. 
 
 However, to my infinite joy, he passed us without dis- 
 tinguishing me : though I saw that, in a careless manner, his 
 eyes surveyed the party. 
 
 As soon as he was gone, one of these unhappy women said, 
 ' Do you know that young fellow ? ' 
 
 Not thinking it possible she should mean Lord Orville by 
 such a term, I readily answered, ' No, Madam.' 
 
 'Why, then,' answered she, 'you have a monstrous good 
 stare for a little country Miss.' 
 
 I now found I had mistaken her, but was glad to avoid an 
 explanation. 
 
 A few minutes after, what was my delight to hear the 
 voice of Mr. Brown, who called out, ' Lord, i'n't that Miss 
 what's her name ? ' 
 
 ' Thank God,'' cried I, suddenly springing from them both, 
 ' thank God, I have found my party.' 
 
 Mr. Brown was, however, alone, and, without knowing 
 what I did, I took hold of his arm. 
 
 ' Lord, Miss/ cried he, ' we've had such a hunt, you can't 
 think ! some of them thought you was gone home ; but I says, 
 says I, I don't think, says I, that she's like to go home all 
 alone, says I.' 
 
 ' So that gentleman belongs to you, Miss, does he ? ' said 
 one of the women.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 ' Yes, Madam,' answered I, • and I now thank you for your 
 civility ; but, as I am safe, will not give you any further 
 trouble.' 
 
 I curtsied slightly, and would have walked away ; but, most 
 unfortunately, Madame Duval and the two Miss Branghtons 
 just then joined us. 
 
 They all began to make a thousand inquiries, to which I 
 briefly answered, that I had been obliged to these two ladies 
 for walking with me, and would tell them more another time : 
 for, though I felt great comparative courage, I was yet too 
 much intimidated by their presence, to dare be explicit. 
 
 Nevertheless, I ventured, once more, to wish them good- 
 night, and proposed seeking Mr. Branghton. These unhappy 
 women listened to all that was said with a kind of callous 
 curiosity, and seemed determined not to take any hint. But 
 my vexation was terribly augmented, when, after having 
 whispered something to each other, they very cavalierly 
 declared that they intended joining" our party ! and then one 
 of them very boldly took hold of my arm, while the other, 
 going round, seized that of Mr. Brown ; and thus, almost 
 forcibly, we were moved on between them, and followed by 
 Madame Duval and the Miss Branghtons. 
 
 It would be very difficult to say which was greatest, my 
 fright, or Mr. Browns consternation, who ventured not to 
 make the least resistance, though his uneasiness made him 
 tremble almost as much as myself. I would instantly have 
 withdrawn my arm, but it was held so tight I could not 
 move it ; and poor Mr. Brown was circumstanced in the same 
 manner on the other side ; for I heard him say, ' Lord, Ma'am, 
 there's no need to squeeze one's arm so ! ' 
 
 And this was our situation, — for we had not taken three 
 steps, when, — O Sir, — we again met Lord Orville ! — but not 
 again did he pass quietly by us, — unhappily I caught his eye ; 
 — both mine, immediately, were bent to the- ground, but he 
 approached me, and we all stopped. 
 
 I then looked up. He bowed. Good God, with what 
 expressive eyes did he regard me ! Never were surprise and 
 concern so strongly marked,- — yes, my clear Sir, he looked 
 greatly concerned ; and that, the remembrance of that, is the 
 only consolation I feel, for an evening the most painful of my 
 life. 
 
 283
 
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 a i $hs 
 
 
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 '•M%w ■-■■ r - 
 
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 //V n't -»v moved on between tlicm.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 What he first said I know not ; for, indeed. I seemed to 
 have neither ears nor understanding ; but I recollect that I 
 only curtsied in silence. He paused for an instant, as if — I 
 believe so, — as if unwilling to pass on ; and then, finding the 
 whole party detained, he again bowed, and took leave. 
 
 Indeed, my dear Sir, I thought I should have fainted, so 
 great was my emotion from shame, vexation, and a thousand 
 other feelings, for which I have no expressions. I absolutely 
 tore myself from the woman's arm, and then, disengaging 
 myself from that of Mr. Brown, I went to Madame Duval, 
 and besought that she would not suffer me to be again parted 
 from her. 
 
 I fancy that Lord Orville saw what passed, for scarcely 
 was I at liberty, ere he returned. Methought, my dear Sir, 
 the pleasure, the surprise of that moment, recompensed me 
 for all the chagrin I had before felt : for do you not think 
 that this return manifests, from a character so quiet, so 
 reserved as Lord Orville's, something like solicitude in my 
 concerns ? — such, at least, was the interpretation I involuntarily 
 made upon again seeing him. 
 
 With a politeness to which I have been some time very 
 little used, he apologised for returning, and then inquired 
 after the health of Mrs. Mirvan and the rest of the Howard 
 Grove family. The flattering conjecture which I have just 
 acknowledged, had so wonderfully restored my spirits that I 
 believe I never answered him so readily, and with so little 
 constraint. Very short, however, was the duration of this 
 conversation : for we were soon most disagreeably interrupted. 
 
 The Miss Branghtons, though they saw almost immediately 
 the characters of the women to whom I had so unfortunately 
 applied, were, nevertheless, so weak and foolish as merely to 
 titter at their behaviour. As to Madame Duval, she was for 
 some time so strangely imposed upon that she thought they 
 were two real fine ladies. Indeed it is wonderful to see how 
 easily and how frequently she is deceived ; our disturbance, 
 however, arose from young Brown, who was now between the 
 two women, by whom his arms were absolutely pinioned to 
 his sides : for a few minutes his complaints had been only 
 murmured, but he now called out aloud, ' Goodness, ladies, 
 you hurt me like anything ! why, I can't walk at all if you 
 keep pinching my arms so !' 
 
 2 8<
 
 EVELINA 
 
 This speech raised a loud laugh in the women, and re- 
 doubled the tittering of the Miss Branghtons. For my own 
 part, I was most cruelly confused, while the countenance of 
 Lord Orville manifested a sort of indignant astonishment ; 
 and, from that moment, he spoke to me no more, till he took 
 leave. 
 
 Madame Duval, who now began to suspect her company, 
 proposed our taking the first box we saw empty, bespeaking a 
 supper, and waiting till Mr. Branghton should find us. 
 
 Miss Polly mentioned one she had remarked, to which we 
 all turned ; Madame Duval instantly seated herself, and the 
 two bold women, forcing the frightened Mr. Brown to go 
 between them, followed her example. 
 
 Lord Orville, with an air of gravity that wounded my very 
 soul, then wished me good-night. I said not a word, but my 
 face, if it had any connection with my heart, must have looked 
 melancholy indeed : and so I have some reason to believe it 
 did ; for he added, with much more softness, though not less 
 dignity, ' Will Miss Anville allow me to ask her address, and 
 to pay my respects to her before I leave town ? ' 
 
 O how I changed colour at this unexpected request ! — yet 
 what was the mortification I suffered, in answering, ' My 
 Lord, I am — in Holborn ! ' 
 
 He then bowed, and left us. 
 
 What, what can he think of this adventure ! how strangely, 
 how cruelly have all appearances turned against me ! Had I 
 been blessed with any presence of mind, I should instantly 
 have explained to him the accident which occasioned my 
 being in such terrible company ; but I have none ! 
 
 As to the rest of the evening, I cannot relate the particulars 
 of what passed ; for, to you, I only write of what I think, and 
 I can think of nothing but this unfortunate, this disgraceful 
 meeting. These two wretched women continued to torment 
 us all, but especially poor Mr. Brown, who seemed to afford 
 them uncommon diversion, till we were discovered by Mr. 
 Branghton, who very soon found means to release us from 
 their persecutions by frightening them away. We stayed but 
 a short time after they left us. which was all employed in 
 explanations. 
 
 Whatever may be the construction which Lord Orville may 
 put upon this affair, to me it cannot fail of being unfavourable ; 
 
 286
 
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 :' 
 
 l c 
 
 
 7 
 
 -•' 
 
 ■ ! ■ n r If 
 
 1-. ^siMfJx • - 
 
 
 Tormenting Mr. Brown,
 
 EVELINA 
 
 to be seen — gracious Heaven ! — to be seen in company with 
 two women of such character ! How vainly, how proudly 
 have I wished to avoid meeting him when only with the 
 Branghtons and Madame Duval,— but now, how joyful should 
 I be had he seen me to no greater disadvantage ! — Holborn, 
 
 too ! what a direction ! — he who had always but I will not 
 
 torment you, my dearest Sir, with any more of my mortifying 
 conjectures and apprehensions: perhaps he may call, — and 
 then I shall have an opportunity of explaining to him all the 
 most shocking part of the adventure. And yet, as I did not 
 tell him at whose house I lived, he may not be able to discover 
 me ; I merely said in Ho/from, and he, who I suppose saw 
 my embarrassment, forbore to ask any other direction. 
 
 Well, I must take my chance ! 
 
 Yet let me, in justice to Lord Orville, and in justice to the 
 high opinion I have always entertained of his honour and 
 delicacy, — let me observe the difference of his behaviour, 
 when nearly in the same situation, to that of Sir Clement 
 Willoughby. He had at least equal cause to depreciate me 
 in his opinion, and to mortify and sink me in my own : but 
 far different was his conduct ; — perplexed, indeed, he looked, 
 and much surprised, — but it was benevolently, not with 
 insolence. I am even inclined to think that he could not see 
 a young creature, whom he had so lately known in a higher 
 sphere, appear so suddenly, so strangely, so disgracefully 
 altered in her situation, without some pity and concern. But, 
 whatever might be his doubts and suspicions, far from suffer- 
 ing them to influence his behaviour, he spoke, he looked with 
 the same politeness and attention with which he had always 
 honoured me when countenanced by Mrs. Mirvan. 
 
 Once again, let me drop this subject. 
 
 In every mortification, every disturbance, how grateful to 
 my heart, how sweet to my recollection, is the certainty of your 
 never-failing tenderness, sympathy, and protection ! Oh Sir, 
 could I, upon this subject, could I write as I feel, — how 
 animated would be the language of your devoted 
 
 Evelina. 
 
 28S
 
 EVELINA 
 
 LETTER LIII 
 EVELINA TO THE REV. MR. VILLARS 
 
 Holborn, July I. 
 
 Listless, uneasy, and without either spirit or courage to 
 employ myself from the time I had finished my last letter, I 
 indolently seated myself at the window, where, while I waited 
 Madame Duval's summons to breakfast, I perceived, among 
 the carriages which passed by, a coronet coach, and, in a few 
 minutes, from the window of it, Lord Orville ! I instantly re- 
 treated, but not, I believe, unseen, for the coach immediately 
 drove up to our door. 
 
 Indeed, my dear Sir, I must own I was greatly agitated ; 
 the idea of receiving Lord Orville by myself, — the knowledge 
 that his visit was entirely to me, — the wish of explaining the 
 unfortunate adventure of yesterday, — and the mortification of 
 my present circumstances, — all these thoughts occurring to 
 me nearly at the same time, occasioned me more anxiety, 
 confusion, and perplexity than I can possibly express. 
 
 I believe he meant to send up his name ; but the maid, 
 unused to such a ceremony, forgot it by the way, and only told 
 me that a great lord was below, and desired to see me : and, 
 the next moment, he appeared himself. 
 
 If formerly, when in the circle of high life, and accustomed 
 to its manners, I so much admired and distinguished the grace, 
 the elegance of Lord Orville, think, Sir, how they must strike 
 me now, — now, when, far removed from that splendid circle, I 
 live with those to whom even civility is unknown and decorum 
 a stranger ! 
 
 I am sure I received him very awkwardly ; depressed by a 
 situation so disagreeable, could I do otherwise? When his 
 first inquiries were made, ' I think myself very fortunate,' he 
 said, ' in meeting with Miss Anville at home, and still more so 
 in finding her disengaged.' 
 
 I only curtsied. He then talked of Mrs. Mirvan, asked 
 how long I had been in town, and other such general questions, 
 which, happily, gave me time to recover from my embarrass- 
 ment. After which, he said, ' If Miss Anville will allow me 
 
 289 U
 
 EVELINA 
 
 the honour of sitting by her a few minutes (for we were both 
 standing) I will venture to tell her the motive which, next to 
 inquiring after her health, has prompted me to wait on her 
 thus early.' 
 
 We were then both seated, and, after a short pause, he 
 said, ' How to apologise for so great a liberty as I am upon 
 the point of taking, I know not ; — shall I, therefore, rely wholly 
 upon your goodness, and not apologise at all ? ' 
 
 I only bowed. 
 
 ' I should be extremely sorry to appear impertinent, — yet 
 hardly know how to avoid it.' 
 
 'Impertinent! O my Lord,' cried I, eagerly, 'that, I am 
 sure, is impossible ! ' 
 
 'You are very good,' answered he, 'and encourage me to 
 be ingenuous ' 
 
 Again he stopped : but my expectation was too great for 
 speech : at last, without looking at me, in a low voice and 
 hesitating manner, he said, ' Were those ladies with whom I 
 saw you last night, ever in your company before ? ' 
 
 'No, my Lord, : cried I, rising, and colouring violently, 
 'nor will they ever be again.' 
 
 He rose too, and, with an air of the most condescending 
 concern, said, ' Pardon, Madam, the abruptness of a question 
 which I knew not how to introduce as I ought, and for which 
 I have no excuse to offer, but my respect for Mrs. Mirvan, 
 joined to the sincerest wishes for your happiness : yet I fear I 
 have gone too far ! ' 
 
 ' I am very sensible of the honour of your Lordship's 
 attention,' said I, 'but ' 
 
 'Permit me to assure you,' cried he, finding I hesitated, 
 ' that officiousness is not my characteristic, and that I would 
 by no means have risked your displeasure, had I not been 
 fully satisfied you were too generous to be offended without a 
 real cause of offence.' 
 
 'Offended;' cried I, 'no, my Lord, I am only grieved, — 
 grieved, indeed ! to find myself in a situation so unfortunate, 
 as to be obliged to make explanations which cannot but mortify 
 and shock me.' 
 
 'It is I alone,' cried he, with some eagerness, 'who am 
 shocked, as it is I who deserve to be mortified ; I seek no 
 explanation, for I have no doubt ; but, in mistaking me, Miss 
 
 290
 
 EVELINA 
 
 Anville injures herself: allow me, therefore, frankly and openly 
 to tell you the intention of my visit.' 
 
 I bowed, and we both returned to our seats. 
 
 ' I will own myself to have been greatly surprised,' continued 
 he, ' when I met you yesterday evening in company with two 
 persons, who I was sensible merited not the honour of your 
 notice ; nor was it easy for me to conjecture the cause of your 
 being so situated ; yet, believe me, my incertitude did not for 
 a moment do you injury ; I was satisfied that their characters 
 must be unknown to you, and I thought with concern of the 
 shock you would sustain when you discovered their unworthi- 
 ness. I should not, however, upon so short an acquaintance, 
 have usurped the privilege of intimacy, in giving my unasked 
 sentiments upon so delicate a subject, had I not known that 
 credulity is the sister of innocence, and therefore feared you 
 might be deceived. A something, which I could not resist, 
 urged me to the freedom I have taken to caution you ; but I 
 shall not easily forgive myself, if I have been so unfortunate as 
 to give you pain.' 
 
 The pride which his first question had excited now subsided 
 into delight and gratitude, and I instantly related to him, as 
 well as I could, the accident which had occasioned my joining 
 the unhappy women with whom he had met me. He listened 
 with an attention so flattering, seemed so much interested 
 during the recital, and, when I had done, thanked me, in 
 terms so polite, for what he was pleased to call my conde- 
 scension, that I was almost ashamed either to look at, or hear 
 him. 
 
 Soon after, the maid came to tell me that Madame Duval 
 desired to have breakfast made in her own room. 
 
 'I fear,' cried Lord Orville, instantly rising, 'that I have 
 intruded upon your time, — yet who, so situated, could do 
 otherwise?' Then, taking my hand, 'Will Miss Anville allow 
 me thus to seal my peace?' He pressed it to his lips, and 
 took leave. 
 
 Generous, noble Lord Orville ! how disinterested his 
 conduct ! how delicate his whole behaviour ! willing to advise, 
 yet afraid to wound me ! Can I ever, in future, regret the 
 adventure I met with at Marybone, since it has been pro- 
 ductive of a visit so flattering ? Had my mortifications been 
 still more humiliating, my terrors still more alarming, such a 
 
 291
 
 EVELINA 
 
 mark of esteem — may I not call it so ? — from Lord Orville, 
 would have made me ample amends. 
 
 And, indeed, my dear Sir, I require some consolation in 
 my present very disagreeable situation ; for, since he went, 
 two incidents have happened that, had not my spirits been 
 particularly elated, would greatly have disconcerted me. 
 
 During breakfast, Madame Duval, very abruptly, asked if I 
 should like to be married ? and added, that Mr. Branghton 
 had been proposing a match for me with his son. Surprised, 
 and, I must own, provoked, I assured her that, in thinking of 
 me, Mr. Branghton would very vainly lose his time. 
 
 ' Why,' cried she, ' I have had grander views for you 
 myself, if once I could get you to Paris, and make you be 
 owned ; but, if I can't do that, and you can do no better, why, 
 as you are both my relations, I think to leave my fortune 
 between you, and then, if you marry, you never need want for 
 nothing.' 
 
 I begged her not to pursue the subject, as, I assured her, 
 Mr. Branghton was totally disagreeable to me : but she 
 continued her admonitions and reflections with her usual 
 disregard of whatever I could answer. She charged me, very 
 peremptorily, neither wholly to discourage, nor yet to accept, 
 Mr. Branghton's offer, till she saw what could be done for me : 
 the young man, she added, had often intended to speak to me 
 himself, but, not well knowing how to introduce the subject, 
 he had desired her to pave the way for him. 
 
 I scrupled not, warmly and freely, to declare my aversion to 
 this proposal, but it was to no effect ; she concluded, just as 
 she had begun, by saying, that I should not have him if I 
 could do better. 
 
 Nothing, however, shall persuade me to listen to any other 
 person concerning this odious affair. 
 
 My second cause of uneasiness arises, very unexpectedly, 
 from M. Du Bois, who, to my infinite surprise, upon Madame 
 Duval's quitting the room after dinner, put into my hand a 
 note, and immediately left the house. 
 
 This note contains an open declaration of an attachment to 
 me, which, he says, he should never have presumed to have 
 acknowledged, had he not been informed that Madame Duval 
 destined my hand to young Branghton, — a match which he 
 cannot endure to think of. He beseeches me, earnestly, to 
 
 292
 
 EVELINA 
 
 pardon his temerity, professes the most inviolable respect, and 
 commits his fate to time, patience, and pity. 
 
 This conduct in M. Du Bois gives me real concern, as I 
 was disposed to think very well of him. It will not, however, 
 be difficult to discourage him, and therefore I shall not acquaint 
 Madame Duval of his letter, as I have reason to believe it 
 would greatly displease her. 
 
 LETTER LIV 
 EVELINA IN CONTINUATION 
 
 J«iy 3- 
 
 O Sir, how much uneasiness must I suffer to counter- 
 balance one short morning of happiness ! 
 
 Yesterday the Branghtons proposed a party to Kensington 
 Gardens, and, as usual, Madame Duval insisted upon my 
 attendance. 
 
 We went in a hackney-coach to Piccadilly, and then had a 
 walk through Hyde Park, which, in any other company, would 
 have been delightful. I was much pleased with Kensington 
 Gardens, and think them infinitely preferable to those of 
 Yauxhall. 
 
 Young Branghton was extremely troublesome ; he insisted 
 upon walking by my side, and talked with me almost by 
 compulsion : however, my reserve and coldness prevented his 
 entering upon the hateful subject which Madame Duval 
 had prepared me to apprehend. Once, indeed, when I was 
 accidentally a few yards before the rest, he said, ' I suppose, 
 Miss, aunt has told you about you know what ? — -ha'n't she, 
 Miss ? ' But I turned from him without making any answer. 
 Neither Mr. Smith nor Mr. Brown were of the party; and 
 poor M. Du Bois, when he found that I avoided him, looked 
 so melancholy that I was really sorry for him. 
 
 While we were strolling round the garden, I perceived, 
 walking with a party of ladies at some distance, Lord Orville ! 
 I instantly retreated behind Miss Branghton, and kept out of 
 sight till we had passed him : for I dreaded being seen by him 
 again in a public walk with a party of which I was ashamed. 
 
 Happily I succeeded in my design, and saw no more of 
 
 293
 
 EVELINA 
 
 him, for a sudden and violent shower of rain made us all 
 hasten out of the gardens. We ran till we came to a small 
 green-shop, where we begged shelter. Here we found our- 
 selves in company with two footmen, whom the rain had driven 
 into the shop. Their livery, I thought, I had before seen ; 
 and upon looking from the window, I perceived the same upon 
 a coachman belonging to a carriage, which I immediately 
 recollected to be Lord Orville's. 
 
 Fearing to be known, I whispered Miss Branghton not to 
 speak my name. Had I considered but a moment, I should 
 have been sensible of the inutility of such a caution, since not 
 one of the party call me by any other appellation than that of 
 Cousin, or of Miss ; but I am perpetually involved in some 
 distress or dilemma from my own heedlessness. 
 
 This request excited very strongly her curiosity ; and she 
 attacked me with such eagerness and bluntness of inquiry, 
 that I could not avoid telling her the reason of my making 
 it, and, consequently, that I was known to Lord Orville : an 
 acknowledgement which proved the most unfortunate in the 
 world, for she would not rest till she had drawn from me the 
 circumstances attending my first making the acquaintance. 
 Then, calling to her sister, she said, ' Lord, Polly, only think ! 
 Miss has danced with a Lord ! ' 
 
 'Well,' cried Polly, 'that's a thing I should never have 
 thought of! And pray, Miss, what did he say to you ? ' 
 
 This question was much sooner asked than answered ; and 
 they both became so very inquisitive and earnest that they 
 soon drew the attention of Madame Duval and the rest of the 
 party, to whom, in a very short time, they repeated all they 
 had gathered from me. 
 
 'Goodness, then,' cried young Branghton, 'if I was Miss, 
 if I would not make free with his Lordship's coach to take me 
 to town.' 
 
 ' Why, ay,' said the father, ' there would be some sense in 
 that ; that would be making some use of a Lord's acquaintance, 
 for it would save us coach-hire.' 
 
 ' Lord, Miss,' cried Polly, ' I wish you would, for I should 
 like of all things to ride in a coronet coach ! ' 
 
 ' I promise you,' said Madame Duval, ' I'm glad you've 
 thought of it, for I don't see no objection ; — so let's have the 
 coachman called.' 
 
 294
 
 ' JU,* ^' *W \ "V l 
 
 ;qUW„ 
 
 
 A sliower of rain wade us hasten
 
 EVELINA 
 
 ' Not for the world,' cried I, very much alarmed, ' indeed it 
 is utterly impossible.' 
 
 'Why so?' demanded Mr. Branghton ; ' pray where's the 
 good of your knowing a Lord, if you're never the better 
 for him ? ' 
 
 ' Ala foi, child,' said Madame Duval, 'you don't know no 
 more of the world than if you was a baby. Pray, Sir (to one 
 of the footmen), tell that coachman to draw up, for I wants to 
 speak to him.' 
 
 The man stared, but did not move. 'Pray, pray, Madam,' 
 said I, ' pray, Mr. Branghton, have the goodness to give up 
 this plan ; I know but very little of his Lordship, and cannot, 
 upon any account, take so great a liberty.' 
 
 'Don't say nothing' about it,' said Madame Duval, 'for I 
 shall have it my own way : so if you won't call the coachman, 
 Sir, I'll promise you I'll call him myself.' 
 
 The footman very impertinently laughed and turned upon 
 his heel. Madame Duval, extremely irritated, ran out in the 
 rain and beckoned the coachman, who instantly obeyed her 
 summons. Shocked beyond all expression, I flew after her, 
 and entreated her with the utmost earnestness to let us 
 return in a hackney-coach : — but oh ! — she is impenetrable to 
 persuasion ! She told the man she wanted him to carry her 
 directly to town, and that she would answer for him to Lord 
 Orville. The man, with a sneer, thanked her, but said he 
 should answer for himself, and was driving off, when another 
 footman came up to him with information that his Lord was 
 gone into Kensington Palace, and would not want him for an 
 hour or two. 
 
 ' Why then, friend,' said Mr. Branghton (for we were 
 followed by all the party), ' where will be the great harm of 
 your taking us to town ? ' 
 
 ' Besides,' said the son, ' I'll promise you a pot of beer for 
 my own share.' 
 
 These speeches had no other answer from the coachman 
 than a loud laugh, which was echoed by the insolent footmen. 
 I rejoiced at their resistance, though I was certain that if their 
 Lord had witnessed their impertinence, they would have been 
 instantly dismissed his service. 
 
 ' Pardi,' cried Madame Duval, 'if I don't think all the foot- 
 men are the most impudentest fellows in the kingdom ! But 
 
 296
 
 EVELINA 
 
 I'll promise you I'll have your master told of your airs, so 
 you'll get no good by 'em.' 
 
 'Why, pray,' said the coachman, rather alarmed, 'did my 
 Lord give you leave to use the coach ? ' 
 
 ' It's no matter for that,' answered she ; ' I'm sure if he's a 
 gentleman, he'd let us have it sooner than we should be wet 
 to the skin : but I'll promise you he shall know how saucy 
 you've been, for this young lady knows him very well.' 
 
 'Ay, that she does,' said Miss Polly; 'and she's danced 
 with him too.' 
 
 Oh how I repented my foolish mismanagement. The men 
 bit their lips and looked at one another in some confusion. 
 This was perceived by our party, who, taking advantage of it, 
 protested they would write Lord Orville word of their ill- 
 behaviour without delay. This quite startled them, and one 
 of the footmen offered to run to the palace and ask his Lord's 
 permission for our having the carriage. 
 
 This proposal really made me tremble ; and the Branghtons 
 all hung back upon it : but Madame Duval is never to be 
 dissuaded from a scheme she has once formed. ' Do so,' cried 
 she, 'and give this child's compliments to your master, and 
 tell him, as we ha'n't no coach here, we should be glad to go 
 just as far as Holborn in his. 
 
 'No, no, no!' cried I: "don't go, — I know nothing of 
 his Lordship — I send no message — I have nothing to say 
 to him ! ' 
 
 The men, very much perplexed, could with difficulty restrain 
 themselves from resuming their impertinent mirth. Madame 
 Duval scolded me very angrily, and then desired them to go 
 directly. ' Pray, then,' said the coachman, ' what name is to 
 be given to my Lord ? ' 
 
 'Anville,' answered Madame Duval, 'tell him Miss Anville 
 wants the coach — the young lady he danced with once.' 
 
 I was really in an agony, but the winds could not have 
 been more deaf to me than those to whom I pleaded ! and 
 therefore the footman, urged by the repeated threats of 
 Madame Duval, and perhaps recollecting the name himself, 
 actually went to the palace with this strange message ! 
 
 He returned in a few minutes, and bowing to me with the 
 greatest respect, said, ' My Lord desires his compliments, and 
 his carriage will be always at Miss Anville's service.' 
 
 297
 
 EVELINA 
 
 I was so much affected by this politeness, and chagrined 
 at the whole affair, that I could scarce refrain from tears. 
 Madame Duval and the Miss Branghtons eagerly jumped into 
 the coach, and desired me to follow. I would rather have 
 submitted to the severest punishment ; but all resistance was 
 vain. 
 
 During the whole ride I said not a word ; however, the 
 rest of the party were so talkative that my silence was very 
 immaterial. We stopped at our lodgings ; but when Madame 
 Duval and I alighted, the Branghtons asked if they could not 
 be carried on to Snow Hill ? The servants, now all civility, 
 made no objection. Remonstrances from me would, I too 
 well knew, be fruitless ; and therefore, with a heavy heart, I 
 retired to my room, and left them to their own direction. 
 
 Seldom have I passed a night in greater uneasiness : — so 
 lately to have cleared myself in the good opinion of Lord 
 Orville, — -so soon to forfeit it ! — to give him reason to suppose 
 I presumed to boast of his acquaintance ! — to publish his 
 having danced with me ! — to take with him a liberty I should 
 have blushed to have taken with the most intimate of my 
 friends ! — to treat with such impertinent freedom one who has 
 honoured me with such distinguished respect ! — indeed, Sir, I 
 could have met with no accident that would so cruelly have 
 tormented me ! 
 
 If such were, then, my feelings, imagine, — for I cannot 
 describe, what I suffered during the scene I am now going to 
 write. 
 
 This morning, while I was alone in the dining-room, young 
 Branghton called. He entered with a most important air, 
 and strutting up to me, said, ' Miss, Lord Orville sends his 
 compliments to you.' 
 
 ' Lord Orville ! ' repeated I, much amazed. 
 
 'Yes, Miss, Lord Orville; for / know his Lordship now 
 as well as you. And a very civil gentleman he is, for all he's 
 a Lord.' 
 
 'For Heaven's sake,' cried I, 'explain yourself.' 
 
 ' Why, you must know, Miss, after we left you we met with 
 a little misfortune ; but I don't mind it now, for it's all turned 
 out for the best : but, just as we were a-going up Snow Hill, 
 plump we comes against a cart, with such a jog it almost 
 pulled the coach wheel off; however, that i'n't the worst, for 
 
 298
 
 EVELINA 
 
 as I went to open the door in a hurry, a-thinking the coach 
 would be broke down, as ill-luck would have it I never minded 
 that the glass was up, and so I poked my head fairly through 
 it. Only see, Miss, how I've cut my forehead ! : 
 
 A much worse accident to himself would not, I believe, at 
 that moment have given me any concern for him : however, 
 he proceeded with his account, for I was too much confounded 
 to interrupt him. 
 
 ' Goodness, Miss, we were in such a stew, us, and the 
 servants, and all, as you can't think ; for, besides the glass 
 being broke, the coachman said how the coach wouldn't be 
 safe to go back to Kensington. So we didn't know what to 
 do ; however, the footmen said they'd go and tell his Lordship 
 what had happened. So then father grew quite uneasy, like, 
 for fear of his Lordship's taking offence and prejudicing us in 
 our business : so he said I should go this morning and ask 
 his pardon, 'cause of having broke the glass. So then I asked 
 the footmen the direction, and they told me he lived in 
 Berkeley Square ; so this morning I went, — and I soon found 
 out the house.' 
 
 ' You did ! ' cried I, quite out of breath with apprehension. 
 
 'Yes, Miss, and a very fine house it is. Did you ever 
 see it ? ' 
 
 'No.' 
 
 'No! — why then. Miss, I know more of his Lordship than 
 you do, for all you knew him first. So, when I came to the 
 door, I was in a peck of troubles, a-thinking what I should say 
 to him ; however, the servants had no mind I should see him, 
 for they told me he was busy, but I might leave my message. 
 So I was just a-coming away, when I bethought myself to say 
 I come from you.' 
 
 ' From me P 
 
 ' Yes, Miss, — for you know, why should I have such a long 
 walk as that for nothing ? So I says to the porter, says I, tell 
 his Lordship, says I, one wants to speak to him as comes from 
 one Miss Anville, says I.' 
 
 'Good God,' cried I, 'and by what authority did you take 
 such a liberty ! ' 
 
 'Goodness, Miss, don't be in such a hurry, for you'll be as 
 glad as me, when you hear how well it all turned out. So 
 then they made way for me, and said his Lordship would see 
 
 299
 
 EVELINA 
 
 me directly ; and there I was led through such a heap of 
 servants, and so many rooms, that my heart quite misgave 
 me ; for I thought, thinks I, he'll be so proud he'll hardly let 
 me speak ; but he's no more proud than I am, and he was as 
 civil as if I'd been a lord myself. So then I said I hoped he 
 wouldn't take it amiss about the glass, for it was quite an 
 accident ; but he bid me not mention it, for it did not signify. 
 And then he said he hoped you got safe home, and wasn't 
 frightened ; and so I said yes, and I gave your duty to 
 him.' 
 
 'My duty to him!' exclaimed I, — 'and who gave you 
 leave ? — who desired you ? ' 
 
 ' O, I did it of my own head, just to make him think I 
 came from you. But I should have told you before how the 
 footman said he was going out of town to-morrow evening, 
 and that his sister was soon to be married, and that he was 
 a-ordering a heap of things for that ; so it come into my head, 
 as he was so affable, that I'd ask him for his custom. So I 
 says, says I, my Lord, says I, if your Lordship i'n't engaged 
 particularly, my father is a silversmith, and he'd be very proud 
 to serve you, says I ; and Miss Anville, as danced with you, 
 is his cousin, and she's my cousin too, and she'd be very much 
 obligated to you, I'm sure.' 
 
 'You'll drive me wild' (cried I, starting" from my seat), 
 ' you have done me an irreparable injury ; — but I will hear no 
 more ! ' — and then I ran into my own room. 
 
 I was half frantic, I really raved ; the good opinion of Lord 
 Orville seemed now irretrievably lost : a faint hope, which in 
 the morning I had vainly encouraged, that I might see him 
 again, and explain the transaction, wholly vanished, now I 
 found he was so soon to leave town : and I could not but 
 conclude that, for the rest of my life, he would regard me as 
 an object of utter contempt. 
 
 The very idea was a dagger to my heart ! — I could not 
 support it, and — but I blush to proceed — I fear your dis- 
 approbation, yet I should not be conscious of having merited 
 it, but that the repugnance I feel to relate to you what I have 
 done, makes me suspect I must have erred. Will you forgive 
 me, if I own that I first wrote an account of this transaction 
 to Miss Mirvan ? — and that I even thought of concealing it 
 from you ? Short-lived, however, was the ungrateful idea, and 
 
 300
 
 EVELINA 
 
 sooner will I risk the justice of your displeasure than un- 
 worthily betray your generous confidence. 
 
 You are now probably prepared for what follows — which is 
 a letter — a hasty letter, that, in the height of my agitation, I 
 wrote to Lord Orville. 
 
 ' My Lord, — I am so infinitely ashamed of the application 
 made yesterday for your Lordship's carriage in my name, and 
 so greatly shocked at hearing how much it was injured, that I 
 cannot forbear writing a few lines to clear myself from the 
 imputation of an impertinence which I blush to be suspected 
 of, and to acquaint you, that the request for your carriage was 
 made against my consent, and the visit with which you were 
 importuned this morning, without my knowledge. 
 
 ' I am inexpressibly concerned at having been the instrument, 
 however innocently, of so much trouble to your Lordship ; but 
 I beg you to believe, that reading these lines is the only part 
 of it which I have given voluntarily. — I am, my Lord, your 
 Lordship's most humble servant, EVELINA ANVILLE.' 
 
 I applied to the maid of the house to get this note conveyed 
 to Berkeley Square ; but scarce had I parted with it before I 
 regretted having written at all, .and I was flying downstairs to 
 recover it, when the voice of Sir Clement Willoughby stopped 
 me. As Madame Duval had ordered we should be denied to 
 him, I was obliged to return upstairs ; and after he was gone, 
 my application was too late, as the maid had given it to a 
 porter. 
 
 My time did not pass very serenely while he was gone ; 
 however, he brought me no answer, but that Lord Orville was 
 not at home. Whether or not he will take the trouble to 
 send any ; — or whether he will condescend to call ; — or whether 
 the affair will rest as it is, I know not ; — but, in being ignorant, 
 am most cruelly anxious. 
 
 301
 
 EVELINA 
 LETTER LV 
 
 EVELINA IN CONTINUATION 
 
 July 4- 
 
 You may now, my dear Sir, send Mrs. Clinton for your 
 Evelina with as much speed as she can conveniently make the 
 journey, for no further opposition will be made to her leaving 
 this town : happy had it perhaps been for her had she never 
 entered it ! 
 
 This morning Madame Duval desired me to go to Snow 
 Hill, with an invitation to the Branghtons and Mr. Smith to 
 spend the evening with her : and she desired M. Du Bois, 
 who breakfasted with us, to accompany me. I was very un- 
 willing to obey her, as I neither wished to walk with M. 
 Du Bois, nor yet to meet young Branghton. And, indeed, 
 another, a yet more powerful reason, added to my reluctance, 
 — for I thought it possible that Lord Orville might send some 
 answer, or perhaps might call, during my absence ; however, 
 I did not dare dispute her commands. 
 
 Poor M. Du Bois spoke not a word during our walk, which 
 was, I believe, equally unpleasant to us both. We found all 
 the family assembled in the shop. Mr. Smith, the moment 
 he perceived me, addressed himself to Miss Branghton, whom 
 he entertained with all the gallantry in his power. I rejoice 
 to find that my conduct at the Hampstead Ball has had so 
 good an effect. But young Branghton was extremely trouble- 
 some ; he repeatedly laughed in my face, and looked so 
 impertinently significant, that I was obliged to give up un- 
 reserve to M. Du Bois, and enter into conversation with him, 
 merely to avoid such boldness. 
 
 ' Miss,' said Mr. Branghton, ' I'm sorry to hear from my 
 son that you wasn't pleased with what we did about that Lord 
 Orville ; but I should like to know what it was you found 
 fault with, for we did all for the best.' 
 
 'Goodness !' cried the son, 'why, if you'd seen Miss, you'd 
 have been surprised — she went out of the room quite in a 
 huff, like.' 
 
 ' It is too late, now,' said I, 'to reason upon this subject ; 
 but, for the future, I must take the liberty to request that my 
 
 302
 
 EVELINA 
 
 name may never be made use of without my knowledge. May 
 I tell Madame Duval that you will do her the favour to accept 
 her invitation ? ; 
 
 'As to me, Ma'am,' said Mr. Smith, 'I am much obliged 
 to the old lady, but I've no mind to be taken in by her again ; 
 you'll excuse me, Ma'am.' 
 
 All the rest promised to come, and I then took leave : but 
 as I left the shop, I heard Mr. Branghton say, 'Take courage, 
 Tom, she's only coy.' And, before I had walked ten yards, 
 the youth followed. 
 
 I was so much offended that I would not look at him, but 
 began to converse with M. Du Bois, who was now more lively 
 than I had ever before seen him ; for, most unfortunately, he 
 misinterpreted the reason of my attention to him. 
 
 The first intelligence I received when I came home, was, 
 that two gentlemen had called, and left cards. I eagerly 
 inquired for them, and read the names of Lord Orville and Sir 
 Clement Willoughby. I by no means regretted that I missed 
 seeing the latter, but perhaps I may all my life regret that I 
 missed the former, for probably he has now left town, — and 
 I may see him no more ! 
 
 ' My goodness ! ' cried young Branghton, rudely looking 
 over me, 'only think of that Lord's coming all this way ! It's 
 my belief he'd got some order ready for father, and so he'd a 
 mind to call and ask you if I'd told him the truth.' 
 
 ' Pray, Betty, 1 cried I, ' how long has he been gone ? ' 
 
 'Not two minutes. Ma'am.' 
 
 'Why, then I'll lay you any wager,' said young Branghton, 
 'he saw you and I a-walking up Holborn Hill !' 
 
 ' God forbid ! ' cried I, impatiently; and, too much chagrined 
 to bear with any more of his remarks, I ran upstairs : but I 
 heard him say to M. Du Bois, ' Miss is so uppisli this morning 
 that I think I had better not speak to her again.' 
 
 I wish M. Du Bois had taken the same resolution ; but he 
 chose to follow me into the dining-room, which he found 
 empty. 
 
 ' Votes tie Faimez done pas, ce gar con, Mademoiselle .' ' 
 cried he. 
 
 ' Me ! ' cried I, 'no, I detest him ! ' for 1 was quite sick at 
 heart. 
 
 '■Ah, tu me rends la vie P cried he, and flinging himself at 
 
 3°3
 
 
 A;r^; 
 
 
 Ah, tu me rends la vie .' ' cried he.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 my feet, he had just caught my hand, as the door was opened 
 by Madame Duval. 
 
 Hastily, and with marks of guilty confusion in his face, he 
 arose ; but the rage of that lady quite amazed me ! advancing 
 to the retreating M. Du Bois, she began, in French, an attack 
 which her extreme wrath and wonderful volubility almost 
 rendered unintelligible ; yet I understood but too much, since 
 her reproaches convinced me she had herself proposed being 
 the object of his affection. 
 
 He defended himself in a weak and evasive manner, and 
 upon her commanding him from her sight, very readily with- 
 drew : and then, with yet greater violence, she upbraided me 
 with having seduced his heart, called me an ungrateful, designing 
 girl, and protested she would neither take me to Paris, nor any 
 more interest herself in my affairs, unless I would instantly 
 agree to marry young Branghton. 
 
 Frightened as I had been at her vehemence, this proposal 
 restored all my courage, and I frankly told her that in this 
 point I never could obey her. More irritated than ever, she 
 ordered me to quit the room. 
 
 Such is the present situation of affairs. I shall excuse myself 
 from seeing the Branghtons this afternoon : indeed, I never 
 wish to see them again. I am sorry, however innocently, that 
 I have displeased Madame Duval, yet I shall be very glad to 
 quit this town, for I believe it does not now contain one 
 person I ever wish to again meet. Had I but seen Lord 
 Orville, I should regret nothing : I could then have more fully 
 explained what I so hastily wrote ; yet it will always be a 
 pleasure to me to recollect that he called, since I flatter myself 
 it was in consequence of his being satisfied with my letter. 
 
 Adieu, my dear Sir ; the time now approaches when I hope 
 once more to receive your blessing, and to owe all my joy, all 
 my happiness, to your kindness. 
 
 3°5
 
 EVELINA 
 LETTER LVI 
 
 MR. VILLARS TO EVELINA 
 
 Berry Hill, y«/r 7. 
 
 Welcome, thrice welcome, my darling Evelina, to the arms 
 of the truest, the fondest of your friends ! Mrs. Clinton, who 
 shall hasten to you with these lines, will conduct you directly 
 hither, for I can consent no longer to be parted from the child 
 of my bosom ! — the comfort of my age ! — the sweet solace of 
 all my infirmities ! Your worthy friends at Howard Grove 
 must pardon me that I rob them of the visit you proposed to 
 make them before your return to Berry Hill, for I find my 
 fortitude unequal to a longer separation. 
 
 I have much to say to you, many comments to make upon 
 your late letters, some parts of which give me no little uneasi- 
 ness; but I will reserve my remarks for our future conversations. 
 Hasten, then, to the spot of thy nativity, the abode of thy youth, 
 where never yet care or sorrow had power to annoy thee ; — O 
 that they might ever be banished this peaceful dwelling ! 
 
 Adieu, my dearest Evelina ! I pray but that thy satisfaction 
 at our approaching meeting may bear any comparison with 
 mine ! Arthur Villars. 
 
 LETTER LVI I 
 
 EVELINA TO MISS MI RYAN 
 
 Berry Hill, July 14. 
 
 My sweet Maria will be much surprised, and, I am willing 
 to flatter myself, concerned, when, instead of her friend, she 
 receives this letter — this cold, this inanimate letter, which 
 will but ill express the feelings of the heart which indites it. 
 
 When I wrote to you last Friday, I was in hourly expecta- 
 tion of seeing Mrs. Clinton, with whom I intended to have set 
 out for Howard Grove ; Mrs. Clinton came, but my plan was 
 necessarily altered, for she brought me a letter, — the sweetest 
 that ever was penned, from the best and kindest friend that ever 
 
 306
 
 EVELINA 
 
 orphan was blessed with, requiring my immediate attendance 
 at Berry Hill. 
 
 I obeyed, — and pardon me if I own I obeyed without 
 reluctance : after so long a separation, should I not else have 
 been the most ungrateful of mortals ? And yet, — oh Maria ! 
 though I wished to leave London, the gratification of my wish 
 afforded me no happiness ! and though I felt an impatience 
 inexpressible to return hither, no words, no language can 
 explain the heaviness of heart with which I made the journey. 
 I believe you would hardly have known me ; — indeed, I hardly 
 know myself. Perhaps had I first seen you, in your kind and 
 sympathising bosom I might have ventured to have reposed 
 every secret of my soul ; and then — but let me pursue my 
 journal. 
 
 Mrs. Clinton delivered Madame Duval a letter from Mr. 
 Villars, which requested her leave for my return, and, indeed, 
 it was very readily accorded : yet, when she found, by my 
 willingness to quit town, that M. Du Bois was really indifferent 
 to me, she somewhat softened in my favour, and declared that, 
 but for punishing his folly in thinking of such a child, she 
 would not have consented to my being again buried in the 
 country. 
 
 All the Branghtons called to take leave of me : but I will 
 not write a word more about them ; indeed I cannot with any 
 patience think of that family, to whose forwardness and im- 
 pertinence is owing all the uneasiness I at this moment suffer ! 
 
 So great was the depression of my spirits upon the road, 
 that it was with difficulty I could persuade the worthy Mrs. 
 Clinton I was not ill : but, alas ! the situation of my mind was 
 such as would have rendered any mere bodily pain, by com- 
 parison, even enviable ! 
 
 And yet, when we arrived at Berry Hill, — when the chaise 
 stopped at this place, — how did my heart throb with joy ! And 
 when, through the window, I beheld the dearest, the most 
 venerable of men, with uplifted hands, returning, as I doubt 
 not, thanks for my safe arrival,- — good God! I thought it 
 would have burst my bosom ! I opened the chaise-door myself; 
 I flew — for my feet did not seem to touch the ground — into 
 the parlour ; he had risen to meet me, but the moment 1 
 appeared he sank into his chair, uttering with a deep sigh, 
 though his face beamed with delight, ' My God, I thank thee ! ' 
 
 3°7
 
 Raising his eyes in thankfulness towards heaven.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 I sprang forward, and, with a pleasure that bordered upon 
 agony, I embraced his knees, I kissed his hands, I wept over 
 them, but could not speak : while he, now raising his eyes in 
 thankfulness towards heaven, now bowing down his reverend 
 head, and folding me in his arms, could scarce articulate the 
 blessings with which his kind and benevolent heart overflowed. 
 
 Miss Mirvan, to be so beloved by the best of men, — 
 should I not be happy ? Should I have one wish save that of 
 meriting his goodness ? Yet think me not ungrateful ; indeed 
 I am not, although the internal sadness of my mind unfits me, 
 at present, for enjoying as I ought the bounties of Providence. 
 
 1 cannot journalise — cannot arrange my ideas into order. 
 How little has situation to do with happiness ! I had flattered 
 
 myself that, when restored to Berry Hill, I should be restored 
 to tranquillity : far otherwise have I found it, for never yet had 
 tranquillity and Evelina so little intercourse. 
 
 I blush for what I have written. Can you, Maria, forgive 
 my gravity ? but I restrain it so much and so painfully in the 
 presence of Mr. Villars, that I know not how to deny myself 
 the consolation of indulging it to you. 
 
 Adieu, my dear Miss Mirvan. 
 
 Yet one thing I must add ; do not let the seriousness of 
 this letter deceive you ; do not impute to a wrong cause the 
 melancholy I confess, by supposing that the heart of your 
 friend mourns a too great susceptibility ; no, indeed ! believe 
 me it never was, never can be, more assuredly her own than 
 at this moment. So witness in all truth, your affectionate 
 
 Evelina. 
 
 You will make my excuses to the honoured Lady Howard, 
 and to your dear mother. 
 
 LETTER LVIII 
 
 EVELINA IN CONTINUATION 
 
 Berry Hill, July 21. 
 
 You accuse me of mystery, and charge me with reserve : I 
 cannot doubt but I must have merited the accusation ; — yet, 
 to clear myself — you know not how painful will be the task. 
 
 3°9
 
 EVELINA 
 
 But I cannot resist your kind entreaties, — indeed, I do not 
 wish to resist them, for your friendship and affection will 
 soothe my chagrin. Had it 'arisen from any other cause, not 
 a moment would I have deferred the communication you ask ; 
 — but, as it is, I would, were it possible, not only conceal it 
 from all the world, but endeavour to disbelieve it myself. 
 Yet, since I must tell you, why trifle with your impatience ? 
 
 I know not how to come to the point ; twenty times have I 
 attempted it in vain — but I W\\\ force myself to proceed. 
 
 Oh, Miss Mirvan, could you ever have believed that one 
 who seemed formed as a pattern for his fellow-creatures, as 
 a model of perfection — one whose elegance surpassed all 
 description — whose sweetness of manners disgraced all com- 
 parison, — oh, Miss Mirvan, could you ever have believed that 
 Lord On'ille would have treated me with indignity ? 
 
 Never, never again, will I trust to appearances — never 
 confide in my own weak judgment — never believe that person 
 to be good, who seems to be amiable ! What cruel maxims 
 are we taught by a knowledge of the world ! — But while my 
 own reflections absorb me, I forget you are still in suspense. 
 
 I had just finished the last letter which I wrote to you from 
 London, when the maid of the house brought me a note. It 
 was given to her, she said, by a footman, who told her he 
 would call the next day for an answer. 
 
 This note,— but let it speak for itself. 
 
 'TO MISS AN VI LI. E 
 
 ' With transport, most charming of thy sex, did I read the 
 letter with which you yesterday morning favoured me. I am 
 sorry the affair of the carriage should have given you any 
 concern, but I am highly flattered by the anxiety you express 
 so kindly. Believe me, my lovely girl, I am truly sensible of 
 the honour of your good opinion, and feel myself deeply 
 penetrated with love and gratitude. The correspondence you 
 have so sweetly commenced I shall be proud of continuing, 
 and I hope the strong sense I have of the favour you do me. 
 will prevent your withdrawing it. Assure yourself that I desire 
 nothing more ardently, than to pour forth my thanks at your 
 feet, and to offer those vows which are so justly the tribute of 
 your charms and accomplishments. In your next, I entreat 
 you to acquaint me how long you shall remain in town. The 
 
 -jio
 
 EVELINA 
 
 servant whom I shall commission to call for an answer, has 
 orders to ride post with it to me. My impatience for his 
 arrival will be very great, though inferior to that with which I 
 burn to tell you, in person, how much I am, my sweet girl, 
 your grateful admirer, ORVILLE.' 
 
 What a letter ! how has my proud heart swelled, every line 
 I have copied ! What I wrote to him you know ; tell me 
 then, my dear friend, do you think it merited such an answer ? 
 — and that I have deservedly incurred the liberty he has 
 taken ? I meant nothing but a simple apology, which I 
 thought as much due to my own character as to his ; yet, by 
 the construction he seems to have put upon it, should you not 
 have imagined it contained the avowal of sentiments which 
 might, indeed, have provoked his contempt ? 
 
 The moment the letter was delivered to me, I retired to my 
 own room to read it, and so eager was my first perusal, that 
 — I am ashamed to own — it gave me no sensation but of 
 delight. Unsuspicious of any impropriety from Lord Orville, 
 I perceived not immediately the impertinence it implied — I 
 only marked the expressions of his own regard ; and I was so 
 much surprised, that I was unable, for some time, to compose 
 myself, or read it again — I could only walk up and down the 
 room, repeating to myself, 'Good God, is it possible? — am I, 
 then, loved by Lord Orville ? ' 
 
 But this dream was soon over, and I awoke to far different 
 feelings ; upon a second reading, I thought every word changed ; 
 it did not seem the same letter — I could not find one 
 sentence that I could look at without blushing : my astonish- 
 ment was extreme, and it was succeeded by the utmost in- 
 dignation. 
 
 If, as I am very ready to acknowledge, I erred in writing 
 to Lord Orville, was it for ///';// to punish the error? If he 
 was offended, could he not have been silent? If he thought 
 my letter ill-judged, should he not have pitied my ignorance, 
 have considered my youth, and allowed for my inexperience ? 
 
 i >h Maria, how have I been deceived in this man ! Words 
 have no power to tell the high opinion I had of him ; to that 
 was owing the unfortunate solicitude which prompted my 
 writing — a solicitude I must for ever repent ! 
 
 N't, perhaps, I have rather reason to rejoice than to grieve, 
 
 3"
 
 EVELINA 
 
 since this affair has shown me his real disposition, and removed 
 that partiality which, covering his every imperfection, left only 
 his virtues and good qualities exposed to view. Had the de- 
 ception continued much longer, had my mind received any 
 additional prejudice in his favour, who knows whither my 
 mistaken ideas might have led me ? Indeed, I fear I was in 
 greater danger than I apprehended, or can now think of 
 without trembling, — for oh, if this weak heart of mine had 
 been penetrated with too deep an impression of his merit,— 
 my peace and happiness had been lost for ever ! 
 
 I would fain encourage more cheerful thoughts, fain drive 
 from my mind the melancholy that has taken possession of it 
 — but I cannot succeed ; for, added to the humiliating feelings 
 which so powerfully oppress me, I have yet another cause of 
 concern ; alas, my dear Maria, I have broken the tranquillity 
 of the best of men ! 
 
 I have never had the courage to show him this cruel letter : 
 I could not bear so greatly to depreciate, in his opinion, one 
 whom I had, with infinite anxiety, raised in it myself. Indeed, 
 my first determination was to confine my chagrin totally to my 
 own bosom, but your friendly inquiries have drawn it from 
 me ; and now I wish I had made no concealment from the 
 beginning, since I know not how to account for a gravity which 
 not all my endeavours can entirely hide or repress. 
 
 My greatest apprehension is, lest he should imagine that 
 my residence in London has given me a distaste to the country. 
 Everybody I see takes notice of my being altered, and looking 
 pale and ill. I should be very indifferent to all such observa- 
 tions, did I not perceive that they draw upon me the eyes of 
 Mr. Villars, which glisten with affectionate concern. 
 
 This morning, in speaking of my London expedition, he 
 mentioned Lord Orville. I felt so much disturbed, that I 
 would instantly have changed the subject ; but he would not 
 allow me, and, very unexpectedly, he began his panegyric, 
 extolling, in strong terms, his manly and honourable behaviour 
 in regard to the Marybone adventure. My cheeks glowed 
 with indignation every word he spoke ; — so lately as I had 
 myself fancied him the noblest of his sex, now that I was so 
 well convinced of my mistake, I could not bear to hear his 
 undeserved praises uttered by one so really good, so unsus- 
 pecting, so pure of heart ! 
 
 ^i 2
 
 CXyMturtot^'u-, ,„,-,. 
 
 Everybody I sec takes notice of my being altered.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 What he thought of my silence and uneasiness I fear to 
 know, but I hope he will mention the subject no more. I will 
 not, however, with ungrateful indolence give way to a sadness 
 which I find infectious to him who merits the most cheerful 
 exertion of my spirits. I am thankful that he has forborne to 
 probe my wound, and I will endeavour to heal it by the con- 
 sciousness that I have not deserved the indignity I have 
 received. Yet I cannot but lament to find myself in a world 
 so deceitful, where we must suspect what we see, distrust what 
 we hear, and doubt even what we feel ! 
 
 LETTER LIX 
 
 EVELINA IN CONTINUATION 
 
 Berry Hill, July 29. 
 
 I must own myself somewhat distressed how to answer 
 your raillery : yet believe me, my dear Maria, your suggestions 
 are those of fancy, not of truth. I am unconscious of the 
 weakness you suspect ; yet, to dispel your doubts, I will 
 animate myself more than ever to conquer my chagrin and to 
 recover my spirits. 
 
 You wonder, you say, since my heart takes no part in this 
 affair, why it should make me so unhappy ? And can you, 
 acquainted as you are with the high opinion I entertained of 
 Lord Orville, can you wonder that so great a disappointment 
 in his character should affect me ? indeed, had so strange a 
 letter been sent to me from anybody, it could not have failed 
 shocking me ; how much more sensibly, then, must I feel such 
 an affront, when received from the man in the world I had 
 imagined least capable of giving it ? 
 
 You are glad I made no reply ; assure yourself, my dear 
 friend, had this letter been the most respectful that could 
 be written, the clandestine air given to it, by his proposal of 
 sending his servant for my answer, instead of having it 
 directed to his house, would effectually have prevented my 
 writing. Indeed, I have an aversion the most sincere to all 
 mysteries, all private actions, however foolishly and blameably, 
 in regard to this letter, I have deviated from the open path 
 which, from my earliest infancy, I was taught to tread. 
 
 3M
 
 EVELINA 
 
 He talks of my having commenced a correspondence with 
 him ; and could Lord Orville indeed believe I had such a 
 design ? believe me so forward, so bold, so strangely ridiculous? 
 I know not if his man called or not, but I rejoice that I quitted 
 London before he came, and without leaving any message for 
 him. What, indeed, could I have said ? it would have been 
 a condescension very unmerited to have taken any, the least 
 notice of such a letter. 
 
 Never shall I cease to wonder how he could write it. Oh, 
 Maria, what, what could induce him so causelessly to wound 
 and affront one who would sooner have died than wilfully 
 offended him ? How mortifying a freedom of style ! how 
 cruel an implication conveyed by his thanks and expressions of 
 gratitude ! Is it not astonishing that any man can appear so 
 modest, who is so vain. 
 
 Every hour I regret the secrecy I have observed with my 
 beloved Mr. Villars. I know not what bewitched me, but I 
 felt, at first, a repugnance to publishing this affair that I could 
 not surmount, and now I am ashamed of confessing that I 
 have anything to confess ! Yet I deserve to be punished for 
 the false delicacy which occasioned my silence ; since, if Lord 
 Orville himself was contented to forfeit his character, was it 
 for me, almost at the expense of my own, to support it ? 
 
 Yet I believe I should be very easy, now the first shock is 
 over, and now that I see the whole affair with the resentment 
 it merits, did not all my good friends in this neighbourhood, 
 who think me extremely altered, tease me about my gravity, 
 and torment Mr. Villars with observations upon my dejection 
 and falling away. The subject is no sooner started than a 
 deep gloom overspreads his venerable countenance, and he 
 looks at me with a tenderness so melancholy, that I know not 
 how to endure the consciousness of exciting it. 
 
 Mrs. Selwyn, a lady of large fortune, who lives about three 
 miles from Berry Hill, and who has always honoured me with 
 very distinguishing marks of regard, is going, in a short time, 
 to Bristol, and has proposed to Mr. Villars to take me with 
 her, for the recovery of my health. He seemed very much 
 distressed whether to consent or refuse, but I, without any 
 hesitation, warmly opposed the scheme, protesting my health 
 could nowhere be better than in this pure air. He had the 
 goodness to thank me for this readiness to stay with him : but 
 
 3' 5
 
 JO* 
 
 i I 
 
 t i^ 
 
 
 a 
 
 - 
 
 
 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 My good friends tease me about my gravity.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 he is all goodness ! Oh that it were in my power to be, 
 indeed, what in the kindness of his heart he has called me, 
 the comfort of his age and solace of his infirmities ! 
 
 Never do I wish to be again separated from him. If here 
 I am grave, elsewhere I should be unhappy. In his presence, 
 with a very little exertion, all the cheerfulness of my disposition 
 seems ready to return ; the benevolence of his countenance 
 reanimates, the harmony of his temper composes, the purity 
 of his character edifies me ! I owe to him everything, and, 
 far from finding my debt of gratitude a weight, the first pride, 
 first pleasure of my life, is the recollection of the obligations 
 conferred upon me by a goodness so unequalled. 
 
 Once, indeed, I thought there existed another, who, when 
 time had wintered o'er his locks, would have shone forth among 
 his fellow-creatures with the same brightness of worth which 
 dignifies my honoured Mr. Villars — a brightness, how superior 
 in value to that which results from mere quickness of parts, 
 wit, or imagination ! a brightness which, not contented with 
 merely diffusing smiles, and gaining admiration from the sallies 
 of the spirits, reflects a real and a glorious lustre upon all 
 mankind ! Oh how great was my error ! how ill did I judge ! 
 how cruelly have I been deceived '. 
 
 I will not go to Bristol, though Mrs. Selwyn is very urgent 
 with me, but I desire not to see any more of the world ; the 
 few months I have already passed in it have sufficed to give 
 me a disgust even to its name. * 
 
 I hope, too, I shall see Lord Orville no more ; accustomed, 
 from my first knowledge of him, to regard him as a being 
 superior to his race, his presence, perhaps, might banish my 
 resentment, and I might forget his ill conduct, — for oh, Maria! 
 I should not know how to see Lord Orville, and to think 
 of displeasure ! 
 
 As a sister I loved him, — I could have intrusted him 
 with every thought of my heart, had he deigned to wish my 
 confidence, so steady did I think his honour, so feminine his 
 delicacy, and so amiable his nature ! I have a thousand times 
 imagined that the whole study of his life, and whole purport of 
 his reflections, tended solely to the good and happiness of 
 others : — but I will talk, write, think of him no more ! 
 
 Adieu, my dear friend ! 
 
 317
 
 EVELINA 
 
 LETTER LX 
 EVELINA IN CONTINUATION 
 
 Berry Hill, August 10. 
 
 You complain of my silence, my dear Miss Mirvan — but 
 what have I to write ? Narrative does not offer, nor does a 
 lively imagination supply the deficiency. I have, however, at 
 present, sufficient matter for a letter, in relating a conversation 
 I had yesterday with Mr. Villars. 
 
 Our breakfast had been the most cheerful we have had 
 since my return hither, and, when it was over, he did not, as 
 usual, retire to his study, but continued to converse with me 
 while I worked. We might probably have passed all the 
 morning thus sociably, but for the entrance of a farmer who 
 come to solicit advice concerning some domestic affairs. They 
 withdrew together into the study. 
 
 The moment I was alone my spirits failed me — the exertion 
 with which I had supported them had fatigued my mind. I 
 flung away my work, and, leaning my arms on the table, gave 
 way to a train of disagreeable reflections, which, bursting from 
 the restraint that had smothered them, filled me with unusual 
 sadness. 
 
 This was my situation when, looking towards the door, 
 which was open, I perceived Mr. Villars, who was earnestly 
 regarding me. ' Is Farmer Smith gone, Sir?' cried I, hastily 
 rising and snatching up my work. 
 
 ' Don't let me disturb you,' said he, gravely ; ' I will go 
 again to my study.' 
 
 'Will you, Sir? I was in hopes you were coming to sit 
 here.' 
 
 ' In hopes ! — and why, Evelina, should you hope it ?' 
 
 This question was so unexpected, that I knew not how to 
 answer it ; but, as I saw he was moving away, I followed, and 
 begged him to return. ' No, my dear, no,' said he, with a 
 forced smile, ' I only interrupt your meditations.' 
 
 Again I knew not what to say ; and while I hesitated, he 
 retired. My heart was with him, but I had not the courage 
 to follow. The idea of an explanation, brought on in so serious 
 
 318
 
 EVELINA 
 
 a manner, frightened me. I recollected the inference you had 
 drawn from my uneasiness, and I feared that he might make 
 a similar interpretation. 
 
 Solitary and thoughtful, I passed the rest of the morning 
 in my own room. At dinner I again attempted to be cheerful, 
 but Mr. Yillars himself was grave, and I had not sufficient 
 spirits to support a conversation merely by my own efforts. 
 As soon as dinner was over he took a book, and I walked 
 to the window. I believe I remained near an hour in this 
 situation. All my thoughts were directed to considering how 
 I might dispel the doubts which I apprehended Mr. Yillars had 
 formed, without acknowledging a circumstance which I had 
 suffered so much pain merely to conceal. But, while I was 
 thus planning for the future, I forgot the present, and so 
 intent was I upon the subject which occupied me, that the 
 strange appearance of my unusual inactivity and extreme 
 thoughtfulness never occurred to me. But when, at last, I 
 recollected myself, and turned round, I saw that Mr. Yillars, 
 who had parted with his book, was wholly engrossed in 
 attending to me. I started from my reverie, and, hardly 
 knowing what I said, asked if he had been reading ? 
 
 He paused a moment, and then replied, 'Yes, my child — 
 a book that both afflicts and perplexes me ! ' 
 
 He means me, thought I, and therefore I made no answer. 
 
 ' What if we read it together ? ' continued he, ' will you 
 assist me to clear its obscurity ? ' 
 
 I knew not what to say, but I sighed, involuntarily, from 
 the bottom of my heart. He rose, and approaching me, said, 
 with great emotion, ' My child, I can no longer be a silent 
 witness of thy sorrow — is not thy sorrow my sorrow? and 
 ought I to be a stranger to the cause, when I so deeply 
 sympathise in the effect ?' 
 
 'Cause, Sir!' cried I, greatly alarmed, 'what cause? I 
 don't know, — I can't tell — I ' 
 
 'Fear not,' said he, kindly, 'to unbosom thyself to me, my 
 dearest Evelina ; open to me thy whole heart — it can have no 
 feelings for which I will not make allowance. Tell me, there- 
 fore, what it is that thus afflicts us both, and who knows but I 
 may suggest some means of relief ! ' 
 
 'You are too, too good,' cried I, greatly embarrassed ; 'but 
 indeed I know not what you mean.' 
 
 319
 
 Planning for the future.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 ' I see,' said he, ' it is painful to you to speak : suppose 
 then, I endeavour to save you by guessing ? ' 
 
 ' Impossible ! impossible ! ' cried I, eagerly, ' no one living 
 
 could ever guess, ever suppose ' I stopped abruptly ; for I 
 
 then recollected I was acknowledging something was to be 
 guessed : however, he noticed not my mistake. 
 
 ' At least let me try,' answered he, mildly ; ' perhaps I may 
 be a better diviner than you imagine : if I guess everything 
 that is probable, surely I must approach near the real reason. 
 Be honest, then, my love, and speak without reserve, — does 
 not the country, after so much gaiety, so much variety, does it 
 not appear insipid and tiresome ? ' 
 
 ' Xo, indeed ! I love it more than ever, and more than ever 
 do I wish I had never, never quitted it ! ' 
 
 'Oh my child ! that I had not permitted the journey ! My 
 judgment always opposed it, but my resolution was not proof 
 against persuasion.' 
 
 ' I blush, indeed,' cried I, ' to recollect my earnestness ; — 
 but I have been my own punisher ! ' 
 
 'It is too late, now,' answered he, 'to reflect upon this 
 subject ; let us endeavour to avoid repentance for the time to 
 come, and we shall not have erred without reaping some 
 instruction.' Then seating himself, and making me sit by 
 him, he continued : ' I must now guess again ; perhaps you 
 regret the loss of those friends you knew in town, — perhaps 
 you miss their society, and fear you may see them no more ? — 
 perhaps Lord Orville ' 
 
 I could not keep my seat, but rising hastily, said, ' Dear 
 Sir, ask me nothing more! — for I have nothing to own, — 
 nothing to say ; — my gravity has been merely accidental, and 
 I can give no reason for it at all. Shall I fetch you another 
 book ? — or will you have this again ? ' 
 
 For some minutes he was totally silent, and I pretended to 
 employ myself in looking for a book : at last, with a deep 
 sigh, ' I see,' said he, ' I see but too plainly, that though 
 Evelina is returned, — I have lost my child !' 
 
 'No, Sir, no,' cried I, inexpressibly shocked, 'she is more 
 yours than ever ! Without you, the world would be a desert 
 to her, and life a burthen ; — forgive her, then, and, — if you 
 can, — condescend to be, once more, the confidant of all her 
 thoughts.' 
 
 321 Y
 
 EVELINA 
 
 ' How highly I value, how greatly I wish for her confidence,' 
 returned he, ' she cannot but know ; — yet to extort, to tear it 
 from her, — my justice, my affection, both revolt at the idea. 
 I am sorry that I was so earnest with you ; — leave me, my 
 dear, leave me, and compose yourself; — we will meet again at 
 tea.' 
 
 ' Do you then refuse to hear me ? ' 
 
 ' No, but I abhor to compel you. I have long seen that 
 your mind has been ill at ease, and mine has largely partaken 
 of your concern : I forbore to question you, for I hoped that 
 time, and absence from whatever excited your uneasiness, 
 might best operate in silence : but, alas ! your affliction seems 
 only to augment, — your health declines, — your look alters, — 
 Oh Evelina, my aged heart bleeds to see the change ! — bleeds 
 to behold the darling it had cherished, the prop it had reared 
 for its support, when bowed down by years and infirmities, 
 sinking itself under the pressure of internal grief! — struggling 
 to hide, what it should seek to participate ! — But go, my dear, 
 go to your own room, — we both want composure, and we will 
 talk of this matter some other time.' 
 
 'Oh Sir,' cried I, penetrated to the soul, 'bid me not leave 
 you ! — think me not so lost to feeling, to gratitude ' 
 
 ' Not a word of that,' interrupted he ; 'it pains me you 
 should think upon that subject — pains me you should ever 
 remember that you have not a natural, an hereditary right to 
 everything within my power. I meant not to affect you thus, 
 — I hoped to have soothed you ! — but my anxiety betrayed 
 me to an urgency that has distressed you. Comfort yourself, 
 my love, and doubt not but that time will stand your friend, 
 and all will end well.' 
 
 I burst into tears : with difficulty had I so long restrained 
 them ; for my heart, while it glowed with tenderness and 
 gratitude, was oppressed with a sense of its own unworthiness. 
 ' You are all, all goodness ! ' cried I, in a voice scarce audible, 
 ' little as I deserve, — unable as I am to repay, such kindness, 
 — yet my whole soul feels, — thanks you for it !' 
 
 ' .My dearest child,' cried he, ' I cannot bear to see thy 
 tears ; — for my sake dry them, — such a sight is too much for 
 me : think of that, Evelina, and take comfort, I charge thee ! ' 
 
 ' Say, then,' cried I, kneeling at his feet, ' say then that 
 you forgive me ! that you pardon my reserve, — that you will 
 
 322
 
 EVELINA 
 
 again suffer me to tell you my most secret thoughts, and rely 
 upon my promise never more to forfeit your confidence ! — my 
 father! my protector! — my ever-honoured — ever-loved — my 
 best and only friend ! — say you forgive your Evelina, and she 
 will study better to deserve your goodness ! ' 
 
 He raised, he embraced me ; he called me his sole joy, his 
 only earthly hope, and the child of his bosom ! He folded 
 me to his heart, and, while I wept from the fulness of mine, 
 with words of sweetest kindness and consolation he soothed 
 and tranquillised me. 
 
 Dear to my remembrance will ever be that moment, when, 
 banishing the reserve I had so foolishly planned and so painfully 
 supported, I was restored to the confidence of the best of men ! 
 
 When, at length, we were again quietly and composedly 
 seated by each other, and Mr. Villars waited for the explana- 
 tion I had begged him to hear, I found myself extremely 
 embarrassed how to introduce the subject which must lead to 
 it. He saw my distress, and, with a kind of benevolent 
 pleasantry, asked me if I would let him guess any more ? I 
 assented in silence. 
 
 'Shall I, then, go back to where I left off?' 
 
 ' If — if you please ; — I believe so,' said I, stammering. 
 
 ' Well then, my love, I think I was speaking of the regret 
 it was natural you should feel upon quitting those from whom 
 you had received civility and kindness, with so little certainty 
 of ever seeing them again, or being able to return their good 
 offices ? These are circumstances that afford but melancholy 
 reflections to young minds ; and the affectionate disposition of 
 my Evelina, open to all social feelings, must be hurt more 
 than usual by such considerations. You are silent, my dear ? 
 — Shall I name those whom I think most worthy the regret I 
 speak of? We shall then see if our opinions coincide.' 
 
 Still I said nothing, and he continued. 
 
 ' In your London journal, nobody appears in a more 
 amiable, a more respectable light, than Lord Orville, and 
 perhaps ' 
 
 ' I knew what you would say,' cried I, hastily, ' and I have 
 long feared where your suspicions would fall ; but indeed, Sir, 
 you are mistaken : I hate Lord Orville, — he is the last man in 
 the world in whose favour I should be prejudiced.' 
 
 I stopped ; for Mr. Villars looked at me with such infinite 
 
 3 2 3
 
 EVELINA 
 
 surprise, that my own warmth made me blush. ' You hate 
 Lord Orville ! ' repeated he. 
 
 I could make no answer, but took from my pocket-book 
 the letter, and giving it to him, 'See, Sir,' said I, 'how 
 differently the same man can talk and write P 
 
 He read it three times before he spoke ; and then said, ' I 
 am so much astonished, that I know not what I read. When 
 had you this letter ? ' 
 
 I told him. Again he read it ; and, after considering its 
 contents some time, said, ' I can form but one conjecture con- 
 cerning this most extraordinary performance : he must certainly 
 have been intoxicated when he wrote it.' 
 
 ' Lord Orville intoxicated ! ' repeated I ; ' once I thought 
 him a stranger to all intemperance, — but it is very possible, 
 for I can believe anything now.' 
 
 ' That a man who had behaved with so strict a regard to 
 delicacy,' continued Mr. Villars, 'and who, as far as occasion 
 had allowed, manifested sentiments the most honourable, 
 should thus insolently, thus wantonly insult a modest young 
 woman, in his perfect senses, I cannot think possible. But, 
 my dear, you should have inclosed this letter in an empty 
 cover, and have returned it to him again : such a resentment 
 would at once have become your character, and have given 
 him an opportunity, in some measure, of clearing his own. 
 He could not well have read this letter the next morning, 
 without being sensible of the impropriety of having written it.' 
 
 Oh Maria ! why had not I this thought ? I might then 
 have received some apology ; the mortification would then 
 have been his, not mine. It is true, he could not have re- 
 instated himself so highly in my opinion as I had once 
 ignorantly placed him, since the conviction of such intemper- 
 ance would have levelled him with the rest of his imperfect 
 race ; yet, my humbled pride might have been consoled by his 
 acknowledgments. 
 
 But why should I allow myself to be humbled by a man 
 who can suffer his reason to be thus abjectly debased, when I 
 am exalted by one who knows no vice, and scarcely a failing, 
 — but by hearsay ? To think of his kindness, and reflect upon 
 his praises, might animate and comfort me even in the midst 
 of affliction. ' Your indignation,' said he, ' is the result of 
 virtue ; you fancied Lord Orville was without fault— he had 
 
 3 2 4
 
 EVELINA 
 
 the appearance of infinite worthiness, and you supposed his 
 character accorded with his appearance : guileless yourself, 
 how could you prepare against the duplicity of another ? 
 Your disappointment has but been proportioned to your ex- 
 pectations, and you have chiefly owed its severity to the 
 innocence which hid its approach.' 
 
 I will bid these words dwell ever in my memory, and they 
 shall cheer, comfort, and enliven me ! This conversation, 
 though extremely affecting to me at the time it passed, has 
 relieved my mind from much anxiety. Concealment, my dear 
 Maria, is the foe of tranquillity ; however I may err in future, 
 I will never be disingenuous in acknowledging my errors. To 
 you, and to Mr. Yillars, I vow an unremitting confidence. 
 
 And yet, though I am more at ease, I am far from well : I 
 have been some time writing this letter ; but I hope I shall 
 send you, soon, a more cheerful one. 
 
 Adieu, my sweet friend. I entreat you not to acquaint 
 even your dear mother with this affair ; Lord Orville is a 
 favourite with her, and why should I publish that he deserves 
 not that honour ? 
 
 LETTER LXI 
 
 EVELINA IN CONTINUATION 
 
 Bristol Hotwell, August 28. 
 
 You will be again surprised, my dear Maria, at seeing 
 whence I date my letter: but I have been very ill, and Mr. 
 Yillars was so much alarmed, that he not only insisted upon 
 my accompanying Mrs. Selwyn hither, but earnestly desired 
 she would hasten her intended journey. 
 
 We travelled very slowly, and I did not find myself so 
 much fatigued as I expected. We are situated upon a most 
 delightful spot ; the prospect is beautiful, the air pure, and the 
 weather very favourable to invalids. I am already better, and 
 I doubt not but I shall soon be well ; as well, in regard to 
 mere health, as I wish to be. 
 
 I cannot express the reluctance with which I parted from 
 my revered Mr. Yillars : it was not like that parting, which 
 last April preceded my journey to Howard Grove, when, all 
 
 3 2 5
 
 EVELINA 
 
 expectation and hope, though I wept, I rejoiced, and though I 
 sincerely grieved to leave him, I yet wished to be gone : the 
 sorrow I now felt was unmixed with any livelier sensation ; 
 expectation was vanished, and hope I had none ! All that I 
 held most dear upon earth I quitted, and that upon an errand 
 to the success of which I was totally indifferent, the re-establish- 
 ment of my health. Had it been to have seen my sweet 
 Maria, or her dear mother, I should not have repined. 
 
 Mrs. Selwyn is very kind and attentive to me. She is 
 extremely clever ; her understanding, indeed, may be called 
 masculine ; but, unfortunately, her manners deserve the same 
 epithet ; for, in studying to acquire the knowledge of the other 
 sex, she has lost all the softness of her own. In regard to 
 myself, however, as I have neither courage nor inclination to 
 argue with her, I have never been personally hurt at her want 
 of gentleness ; a virtue which, nevertheless, seems so essential 
 a part of the female character, that I find myself more 
 awkward, and less at ease, with a woman who wants it, than I 
 do with a man. She is not a favourite with Mr. Yillars, who 
 has often been disgusted at her unmerciful propensity to satire : 
 but his anxiety that I should try the effect of the Bristol waters, 
 overcame his dislike of committing me to her care. Mrs. 
 Clinton is also here ; so that I shall be as well attended as his 
 utmost partiality could desire. 
 
 I will continue to write to you, my dear Miss Mirvan, with 
 as much constancy as if I had no other correspondent ; though, 
 during my absence from Berry Hill, my letters may, perhaps, 
 be shortened on account of the minuteness of the journal which 
 I must write to my beloved Mr. Yillars : but you, who know 
 his expectations, and how many ties bind me to fulfil them, 
 will, I am sure, rather excuse any omission to yourself, than 
 any negligence to him. 
 
 326
 
 EVELINA 
 
 LETTER LXII 
 EVELINA TO THE REV. MR. VI LIARS 
 
 Bristol Hotwells, Sept. 12. 
 
 The first fortnight that I passed here, was so quiet, so 
 serene, that it gave me reason to expect a settled calm during 
 my stay ; but if I may now judge of the time to come, by the 
 present state of my mind, the calm will be succeeded by a 
 storm, of which I dread the violence ! 
 
 This morning, in my way to the pump-room, with Mrs. 
 Selwyn, we were both very much incommoded by three gentle- 
 men, who were sauntering by the side of the Avon, laughing, 
 and talking very loud, and lounging so disagreeably, that we 
 knew not how to pass them. They all three fixed their eyes 
 very boldly upon me, alternately looking under my hat, and 
 whispering one another. Mrs. Selwyn assumed an air of 
 uncommon sternness, and said, ' You will please, Gentlemen, 
 either to proceed yourselves, or to suffer us.' 
 
 ' Oh ! Ma'am,' cried one of them, ' we will suffer yo it, with 
 the greatest pleasure in life.' 
 
 'You will suffer us bot/i,' answered she, 'or I am much 
 mistaken ; you had better, therefore, make way quietly, for I 
 should be sorry to give my servant the trouble of teaching you 
 better manners.' 
 
 Her commanding air struck them, yet they all chose to 
 laugh, and one of them wished the fellow would begin his 
 lesson, that he might have the pleasure of rolling him into the 
 Avon ; while another advancing to me with a freedom which 
 made me start, said, ' By my soul I did not know you ! — but I 
 am sure I cannot be mistaken ; — had not I the honour of seeing 
 you, once, at the Pantheon ? ' 
 
 I then recollected the nobleman who, at that place, had so 
 much embarrassed me. I curtsied without speaking. They 
 all bowed, and making, though in a very easy manner, an 
 apology to Mrs. Selwyn, they suffered us to pass on, but chose 
 to accompany us. 
 
 ' And where,' continued this Lord, ' can you so long have 
 hid yourself? do you know I have been in search of you this 
 age ? I could neither find you out, nor hear of you : not a 
 
 327
 
 -<s=V^ 
 
 Much incommoded by three gentlemen.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 creature could inform me what was become of you. I cannot 
 imagine where you could be immured. I was at two or three 
 public places every night, in hopes of meeting you. Pray did 
 you leave town ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, my Lord.' 
 
 ' So early in the season ! — what could possibly induce you 
 to go before the birthday ? ' 
 
 ' I had nothing, my Lord, to do with the birthday.' 
 
 ' By my soul, all the women who had, may rejoice you were 
 away. Have you been here any time ? ' 
 
 ' Not above a fortnight, my Lord.' 
 
 'A fortnight ! — how unlucky that I did not meet you 
 sooner ! but I have had a run of ill-luck ever since I came. 
 How long shall you stay ?' 
 
 ' Indeed, my Lord, I don't know.' 
 
 ' Six weeks, I hope ; for I shall wish the place at the devil 
 when you go.' 
 
 ' Do you, then, flatter yourself, my Lord,' said Mrs. Selwyn, 
 who had hitherto listened in silent contempt, ' that you shall 
 see such a beautiful spot as this, when you visit the dominions 
 of the devil ? ' 
 
 ' Ha, ha, ha ! Faith, my Lord,' said one of his companions, 
 who still walked with us, though the other had taken leave ; 
 ' the lady is rather hard upon you.' 
 
 'Not at all,' answered Mrs. Selwyn ; 'for as I cannot doubt 
 but his Lordship's rank and interest will secure him a place 
 there, it would be reflecting on his understanding, to suppose 
 he should not wish to enlarge and beautify his dwelling.' 
 
 Much as I was disgusted with this Lord, I must own Mrs. 
 Selwyn's severity rather surprised me : but you, who have so 
 often observed it, will not wonder she took so fair an oppor- 
 tunity of indulging her humour. 
 
 'As to places] returned he, totally unmoved, 'I am so 
 indifferent to them, that the devil take me if I care which way 
 I go ! objects, indeed, I am not so easy about ; and therefore 
 I expect that those angels with whose beauty I am so much 
 enraptured in this world, will have the goodness to afford me 
 some little consolation in the other.' 
 
 • 'What, my Lord!' cried Mrs. Selwyn, 'would you wish to 
 degrade the habitation of your friend, by admitting into it the 
 insipid company of the upper regions ? ' 
 
 3 2 9
 
 EVELINA 
 
 'What do you do with yourself this evening?' said his 
 Lordship, turning to me. 
 
 ' I shall be at home, my Lord.' 
 
 ' O, d prop os — where are you ? ' 
 
 'Young ladies, my Lord,' said Mrs. Selwyn, 'are nowhere.'' 
 
 ' Prithee,' whispered his Lordship, ' is that queer woman 
 your mother ? ' 
 
 Good Heavens, Sir, what words for such a question ! 
 
 ' No, my Lord.' 
 
 ' Your maiden aunt, then ? ' 
 
 ' No.' 
 
 ' Whoever she is, I wish she would mind her own affairs : 
 I don't know what the devil a woman lives for after thirty : 
 she is only in other folks' way. Shall you be at the as- 
 sembly ? ' 
 
 ' I believe not, my Lord.' 
 
 ' No ! — why then how in the world can you contrive to pass 
 your time ? ' 
 
 ' In a manner which your Lordship will think very extra- 
 ordinary,' cried Mrs. Selwyn ; 'for the young lady reads? 
 
 1 Ha, ha, ha ! Egad, my Lord,' cried the facetious com- 
 panion, 'you are got into bad hands.' 
 
 ' You had better, Ma'am,' answered he, ' attack Jack 
 Coverley, here, for you will make nothing of me.' 
 
 ' Of you, my Lord ! ' cried she ; ' Heaven forbid I should 
 ever entertain so idle an expectation ! I only talk, like a silly 
 woman, for the sake of talking ; but I have by no means so 
 low an opinion of your Lordship, as to suppose you vulnerable 
 to censure.' 
 
 ' Do, pray, Ma'am,' cried he, ' turn to Jack Coverley ; he's 
 the very man for you ; — he'd be a wit himself, if he was not 
 too modest.' 
 
 ' Prithee, my Lord, be quiet,' returned the other : ' if the 
 lady is contented to bestow all her favours upon you, why 
 should you make such a point of my going snacks ? ' 
 
 ' Don't be apprehensive, Gentlemen,' said Mrs. Selwyn, 
 drily, ' I am not romantic, — I have not the least design of 
 doing good to either of you.' 
 
 ' Have not you been ill since I saw you ? ' said his Lordship, 
 again addressing himself to me. 
 
 ' Yes, my Lord.' 
 
 33°
 
 EVELINA 
 
 ' I thought so ; you are paler than you was, and I suppose 
 that's the reason I did not recollect you sooner.' 
 
 ' Has not your Lordship too much gallantry,' cried Mrs. 
 Selwyn, 'to discover a young lady's illness by her looks ? ' 
 
 ' The devil a word can I speak for that woman,' said he, in 
 a low voice : ' do, prithee, Jack, take her in hand.' 
 
 ' Excuse me, my Lord ! ' answered Mr. Coverley. 
 
 ' When shall I see you again ? ' continued his Lordship ; 
 ' do you go to the pump-room every morning ? ' 
 
 ' No, my Lord.' 
 
 ' Do you ride out ? ' 
 
 ' No, my Lord.' 
 
 Just then we arrived at the pump-room, and an end was 
 put to our conversation, if it is not an abuse of words to give 
 such a term to a string of rude questions and free compliments. 
 
 He had not opportunity to say much more to me, as Mrs. 
 Selwyn joined a large party, and I walked home between two 
 ladies. He had, how_ever, the curiosity to see us to the door. 
 
 Mrs. Selwyn was very eager to know how I had made 
 acquaintance with this nobleman, whose manners so evidently 
 announced the character of a confirmed libertine ; I could give 
 her very little satisfaction, as I was ignorant even of his name. 
 But, in the afternoon, Mr. Ridgeway the apothecary, gave us 
 very ample information. 
 
 As his person was easily described, for he is remarkably 
 tall, Mr. Ridgeway told us he was Lord Merton, a nobleman 
 who is but lately come to his title, though he has already 
 dissipated more than half his fortune : a professed admirer of 
 beauty, but a man of most licentious character : that among 
 men, his companions consisted chiefly of gamblers and jockies, 
 and among women, he was rarely admitted. 
 
 'Well, Miss Anville,' said Mrs. Selwyn, 'I am glad I was 
 not more civil to him. You may depend upon me for keeping 
 him at a distance.' 
 
 ' O, Madam,' said Mr. Ridgeway, 'he may now be admitted 
 anywhere, for he is going to reform.'' 
 
 ' Has he, under that notion, persuaded any fool to marry 
 him ? ' 
 
 ' Not yet, Madam, but a marriage is expected to take place 
 shortly : it has been some time in agitation, but the friends of 
 the lady have obliged her to wait till she is of age ; however, 
 
 331
 
 EVELINA 
 
 : her brother, who has chiefly opposed the match, now that she 
 is near being at her own disposal, is tolerably quiet. She is 
 very pretty, and will have a large fortune. We expect her at 
 the Wells every day.' 
 
 ' What is her name ? ' said Mrs. Selwyn. 
 
 ' Larpent,' answered he, ' Lady Louisa Larpent, sister of 
 Lord Orville.' 
 
 ' Lord Orville ! ' repeated I, all amazement. 
 
 ' Yes, Ma'am ; his Lordship is coming with her. I have 
 had certain information. They are to be at the Honourable 
 Mrs. Beaumont's. She is a relation of my Lord's, and has a 
 very fine house upon Clifton HilL' 
 
 His Lordship is comifig with her J — Good God, what an 
 emotion did those words give me ! How strange, my dear 
 Sir, that, just at this time, he should visit Bristol ! It will be 
 impossible for me to avoid seeing him, as Mrs. Selwyn is very 
 well acquainted with Mrs. Beaumont. Indeed, I have had an 
 escape in not being under the same roof with him, for Mrs. 
 Beaumont invited us to her house immediately upon our arrival ; 
 but the inconveniency of being so distant from the pump-room 
 made Mrs. Selwyn decline her civility. 
 
 Oh that the first meeting was over !— or that I could quit 
 Bristol without seeing him ! — inexpressibly do I dread an 
 interview : should the same impertinent freedom be expressed 
 by his looks, which dictated his cruel letter, I shall not know 
 how to endure either him or myself. Had I but returned it, I 
 should be easier, because my sentiments of it would then be 
 known to him ; but now, he can only gather them from my 
 behaviour, and I tremble lest he should mistake my indignation 
 for confusion ! — lest he should misconstrue my reserve into 
 embarrassment ! — for how, my dearest Sir, how shall I be able 
 totally to divest myself of the respect with which I have been 
 used to think of him ? — the -pleasure with which I have been 
 used to see him ? 
 
 Surely he, as well as I, must recollect the letter at the 
 moment of our meeting, and he will, probably, mean to gather 
 my thoughts of it from my looks ; — oh that they could but 
 convey to him my real detestation of impertinence and vanity ! 
 then would he see how much he had mistaken my disposition 
 when he imagined them my due. 
 
 There was a time when the very idea that such a man as 
 
 33 2
 
 EVELINA 
 
 Lord Merton should ever be connected with Lord Orville, 
 would have both surprised and shocked me, and even yet I am 
 pleased to hear of his repugnance to the marriage. 
 
 But how strange, that a man of so abandoned a character 
 should be the choice of a sister of Lord Orville ! and how 
 strange, that, almost at the moment of the union, he should be 
 so importunate in gallantry to another woman ! What a world 
 is this we live in ! how corrupt ! how degenerate ! well might 
 I be contented to see no more of it ! If I find that the eyes of 
 Lord Orville agree with his pen, — I shall then think, that of 
 all mankind, the only virtuous individual resides at Berry Hill. 
 
 LETTER LXIII 
 
 EVELINA IN CONTINUATION 
 
 Bristol Hotwells, Sept. 16. 
 
 Oh, Sir, Lord Orville is still himself! still, what from the 
 moment I beheld, I believed him to be — all that is amiable in 
 man ! and your happy Evelina, restored at once to spirits and 
 tranquillity, is no longer sunk in her own opinion, nor discon- 
 tented with the world ; no longer, with dejected eyes, sees the 
 prospect of passing her future days in sadness, doubt, and 
 suspicion ! — with revived courage she now looks forward, and 
 expects to meet with goodness, even among mankind : — though 
 still she feels, as strongly as ever, the folly of hoping, in any 
 second instance, to meet with perfection. 
 
 Your conjecture was certainly right ; Lord Orville, when 
 he wrote that letter, could not be in his senses. Oh that 
 intemperance should have power to degrade so low, a man so 
 noble ! 
 
 This morning I accompanied Airs. Sclwyn to Clifton Hill, 
 where, beautifully situated, is the house of Mrs. Beaumont. 
 Most uncomfortable were my feelings during our walk, which 
 was very slow, for the agitation of my mind made me more 
 than usually sensible how weak I still continue. As we entered 
 the house, I summoned all my resolution to my aid, determined 
 rather to die than give Lord Orville reason to attribute my 
 weakness to a wrong cause. I was happily relieved from my 
 
 333
 
 EVELINA 
 
 perturbation, when I saw Mrs. Beaumont was alone. We sat 
 with her for, I believe, an hour without interruption, and then 
 we saw a phaeton drive up to the gate, and a lady and gentle- 
 man alight from it. 
 
 They entered the parlour with the ease of people who were 
 at home. The gentleman, I soon saw, was Lord Merton ; he 
 came shuffling into the room with his boots on, and his whip 
 in his hand ; and, having made something like a bow to Mrs. 
 Beaumont, he turned towards me. His surprise was very- 
 evident, but he took no manner of notice of me. He waited, I 
 believe, to discover, first, what chance had brought me to that 
 house, where he did not look much rejoiced at meeting me. 
 He seated himself very quietly at the window, without speaking 
 to anybody. 
 
 Meantime, the lady, who seemed very young, hobbling 
 rather than walking into the room, made a passing curtsy to 
 Mrs. Beaumont, saying, ' How are you, Ma'am ? ' and then, 
 without noticing anybody else, with an air of languor she flung 
 herself upon a sofa, protesting, in a most affected voice, and 
 speaking so softly she could hardly be heard, that she was 
 fatigued to death. ' Really, Ma'am, the roads are so monstrous 
 dusty, — you can't imagine how troublesome the dust is to one's 
 eyes ! — and the sun, too, is monstrous disagreeable ! — I dare- 
 say I shall be so tanned I shan't be fit to be seen this age. 
 Indeed, my Lord, I won't go out with you any more, for you 
 don't care where you take one.' 
 
 ' Upon my honour,' said Lord Merton, ' I took you the 
 pleasantest ride in England ; the fault was in the sun, not me.' 
 
 ' Your Lordship is in the right,' said Mrs. Selwyn, ' to 
 transfer the fault to the sun, because it has so many excellencies 
 to counterbalance partial inconveniencies, that a little blame 
 will not injure that in our estimation.' 
 
 Lord Merton looked by no means delighted at this attack ; 
 which I believe she would not so readily have made, but to 
 revenge his neglect of us. 
 
 'Did you meet your brother, Lady Louisa?' said Mrs. 
 Beaumont. 
 
 'No, Ma'am. Is he rode out this morning?' 
 
 I then found, what I had before suspected, that this lady 
 was Lord Orville's sister : how strange, that such near relations 
 should be so different to each other ! There is, indeed, some 
 
 334
 
 resemblance in their features, but in their manners, not the 
 least. 
 
 ' Yes,' answered Mrs. Beaumont, ' and I believe he wished 
 to see you.' 
 
 ' My Lord drove so monstrous fast,' said Lady Louisa, 'that 
 perhaps we passed him. He frighted me out of my senses ; I 
 declare my head is quite giddy. Do you know, Ma'am, we 
 have done nothing but quarrel all the morning ? — You can't 
 think how I've scolded; — have not I, my Lord?' and she 
 smiled expressively at Lord Merton. 
 
 1 You have been, as you always are,' said he, twisting his 
 whip with his fingers, ' all sweetness.' 
 
 ' O fie, my Lord,' cried she, ' I know you don't think so ; I 
 know you think me very ill-natured ; — don't you, my Lord ?' 
 
 ' No, upon my honour ; — how can your Ladyship ask such 
 a question ? — Pray how goes time ? my watch stands. 
 
 ' It is almost three,' answered Mrs. Beaumont. 
 
 ' Lord, Ma'am, you frighten me ! ' cried Lady Louisa ; and 
 then, turning to Lord Merton, ' why now, you wicked creature, 
 you, did not you tell me it was but one ? ' 
 
 Mrs. Selwyn then rose to take leave ; but Mrs. Beaumont 
 asked if she would look at the shrubbery. ' I should like it 
 much,' answered she, ' but that I fear to fatigue Miss Anville.' 
 
 Lady Louisa then, raising her head from her hand, on 
 which it had leant, turned round to look at me, and, having 
 fully satisfied her curiosity, without any regard to the confusion 
 it gave me, turned about, and, again leaning on her hand, took 
 no further notice of me. 
 
 I declared myself very able to walk, and begged that I 
 might accompany them. 'What say you, Lady Louisa,' cried 
 Mrs. Beaumont, ' to a stroll in the garden ? ' 
 
 ' Me, Ma'am ! — I declare I can't stir a step ; the heat is so 
 excessive, it would kill me. I'm half dead with it already ; 
 besides, I shall have no time to dress. Will anybody be here 
 to-day, Ma'am ?' 
 
 ' I believe not, unless Lord Merton will favour us with his 
 company.' 
 
 'With great pleasure, Madam.' 
 
 ' Well, I declare you don't deserve to be asked,' cried Lady 
 Louisa, ' you wicked creature, you ! — I must tell you one thing, 
 Ma'am, — you can't think how abominable he was ! do you 
 
 335
 
 EVELINA 
 
 know, we met Mr. Lovel in his new phaeton, and my Lord was 
 so cruel as to drive against it ? — we really flew. I declare I 
 could not breathe. Upon my word, my Lord, I'll never trust 
 myself with you again, — I won't indeed ! ' 
 
 We then went into the garden, leaving them to discuss the 
 point at their leisure. 
 
 Do you remember a. pretty but affected young lady I men- 
 tioned to have seen, in Lord Orville : s party, at the Pantheon ? 
 How little did I then imagine her to be his sister ! yet Lady 
 Louisa Larpent is the very person. I can now account for the 
 piqued manner of her speaking to Lord Merton that evening, 
 and I can now account for the air of displeasure with which 
 Lord Orville marked the undue attention of his future brother- 
 in-law to me. 
 
 We had not walked long, ere, at a distance, I perceived 
 Lord Orville, who seemed just dismounted from his horse, 
 enter the garden. All my perturbation returned at the sight 
 of him ! — yet I endeavoured to repress every feeling but 
 resentment. As he approached us, he bowed to the whole 
 party ; but I turned away my head to avoid taking any share 
 in his civility. Addressing himself immediately to Mrs. Beau- 
 mont, he was beginning to inquire after his sister, but uporu^ 
 seeing my face he suddenly exclaimed, ' Miss Anville ! ' — and ( : 
 then he advanced and made his compliments to me, — not 
 with an air of vanity or impertinence, nor yet with a look of 
 consciousness or shame, — but with a countenance open, manly, 
 and charming ! — -with a smile that indicated pleasure, and eyes 
 that sparkled with delight ! — on my side was all the conscious- 
 ness, for by him, I really believe, the letter was at that moment 
 entirely forgotten. 
 
 With what politeness did he address me ! with what sweet- 
 ness did he look at me ! the very tone of his voice seemed 
 flattering ! he congratulated himself upon his good fortune in 
 meeting with me, — hoped I should spend some time at Bristol, 
 and inquired, even with anxiety inquired, if my health was the 
 cause of my journey, in which case his satisfaction would be 
 converted into apprehension. 
 
 Yet, struck as I was with his manner, and charmed to find 
 him such as he was wont to be, imagine not, my dear Sir, that 
 I forgot the resentment I owe him. or the cause he has given 
 me of displeasure ; no, my behaviour was such as, I hope, 
 
 33 6
 
 EVELINA 
 
 had you seen, you would not have disapproved : I was grave 
 and distant, I scarce looked at him when he spoke, or answered 
 him when he was silent. 
 
 As he must certainly observe this alteration in my conduct, 
 I think it could not fail making him both recollect and repent 
 the provocation he had so causelessly given me : for surely he 
 was not so wholly lost to reason as to be now ignorant he had 
 ever offended me. 
 
 The moment that, without absolute rudeness, I was able, 
 I turned entirely from him, and asked Mrs. Selwyn if we 
 should not be late home ? How Lord Orville looked I know 
 not, for I avoided meeting his eyes, but he did not speak 
 another word as we proceeded to the garden gate. Indeed I 
 believe my abruptness surprised him, for he did not seem to 
 expect I had so much spirit. And, to own the truth, convinced 
 as I was of the propriety, nay, necessity of showing my dis- 
 pleasure, I yet almost hated myself for receiving his politeness 
 so ungraciously. 
 
 When we were taking leave, my eyes accidentally meeting 
 his, I could not but observe that his gravity equalled my own, 
 for it had entirely taken place of the smiles and good-humour 
 with which he had met me. 
 
 ' I am afraid this young lady,' said Mrs. Beaumont, 'is too 
 weak for another long walk till she is again rested.' 
 
 ' If the ladies will trust to my driving,' said Lord Orville, 
 ' and are not afraid of a phaeton, mine shall be ready in a 
 moment.' 
 
 ' You are very good, my Lord,' said Mrs. Selwyn, ' but my 
 will is yet unsigned, and I don't choose to venture in a phaeton 
 with a young man while that is the case.' 
 
 ' O,' cried Mrs. Beaumont, ' you need not be afraid of my 
 Lord Orville, for he is remarkably careful.' 
 
 'Well, Miss Anville,' answered she, 'what say you?' 
 
 ' Indeed,' cried I, ' I had much rather walk — ' But then, 
 looking at Lord Orville, I perceived in his face a surprise so 
 serious at my abrupt refusal, that I could not forbear adding, 
 ' for I should be sorry to occasion so much trouble.' 
 
 Lord Orville, brightening at these words, came forward 
 and pressed his offer in a manner not to be denied ; — so the 
 phaeton was ordered! And indeed, my dear Sir, — I know 
 not how it was, — but, from that moment, my coldness and 
 
 337 *
 
 EVELINA 
 
 reserve insensibly wore away ! You must not be angry, — it 
 was my intention, nay, my endeavour, to support them with 
 firmness ; but when I formed the plan, I thought only of the 
 letter, — not of Lord Orville ! — and how is it possible for resent- 
 ment to subsist without provocation ? yet, believe me, my 
 dearest Sir, had he sustained the part he began to act when 
 he wrote the ever-to-be-regretted letter, your Evelina would 
 not have forfeited her title to your esteem by contentedly 
 submitting to be treated with indignity. 
 
 We continued in the garden till the phaeton was ready. 
 When we parted from Mrs. Beaumont, she repeated her 
 invitation to Mrs. Selwyn to accept an apartment in her 
 house, but the reason I have already mentioned made it be 
 again declined. 
 
 Lord Orville drove very slow, and so cautiously, that, not- 
 withstanding the height of the phaeton, fear would have been 
 ridiculous. I supported no part in the conversation, but Mrs. 
 Selwyn extremely well supplied the place of two. Lord Orville 
 himself did not speak much, but the excellent sense and refined 
 good-breeding which accompany every word he utters, give 
 value and weight to whatever he says. 
 
 ' I suppose, my Lord,' said Mrs. Selwyn, when we stopped 
 at our lodgings, ' you would have been extremely confused had 
 we met any gentlemen who have the honour of knowing you ?' 
 
 ' If I had,' answered he gallantly, ' it would have been 
 from mere compassion at their envy.' 
 
 ' No, my Lord,' answered she, ' it would have been from 
 mere shame, that, in an age so daring, you alone should be 
 such a coward as to forbear to frighten women.' 
 
 ' O,' cried he, laughing, ' when a man is in a fright for 
 himself, the ladies cannot but be in security ; for you have not 
 had half the apprehension for the safety of your persons that 
 I have for that of my heart.' He then alighted, handed us 
 out, took leave, and again mounting the phaeton, was out of 
 sight in a minute. 
 
 ' Certainly,' said Mrs. Selwyn, when he was gone, ' there 
 must have been some mistake in the birth of that young man ; 
 he was undoubtedly designed for the last age ; for he is really 
 polite ! ' 
 
 And now, my dear Sir, do not you think, according to the 
 present situation of affairs, I may give up my resentment 
 
 338
 
 EVELINA 
 
 without imprudence or impropriety ? I hope you will not 
 blame me. Indeed, had you, like me, seen his respectful 
 behaviour, you would have been convinced of the impractica- 
 bility of supporting any further indignation. 
 
 LETTER LXIV 
 EVELINA IX CONTINUATION 
 
 Bristol Hotwells, Sept. 19. 
 
 Yesterday morning Mrs. Selwyn received a card from Mrs. 
 Beaumont, to ask her to dine with her to-day ; and another, to 
 the same purpose, came to me. The invitation was accepted, 
 and we are but just arrived from Clifton Hill. 
 
 We found Mrs. Beaumont alone in the parlour. I will 
 write you the character of that lady, in the words of our 
 satirical friend Mrs. Selwyn. ' She is an absolute Court 
 Calendar bigot j for, chancing herself to be born of a noble 
 and ancient family, she thinks proper to be of opinion that 
 birth and virtue are one and the same thing. She has some 
 good qualities, but they rather originate from pride than 
 principle, as she piques herself upon being too high born to 
 be capable of an unworthy action, and thinks it incumbent 
 upon her to support the dignity of her ancestry. Fortunately 
 for the world in general, she has taken it into her head that 
 condescension is the most distinguishing virtue of high life ; so 
 that the same pride of family which renders others imperious 
 is with her the motive of affability. But her civility is too 
 formal to be comfortable, and too mechanical to be flattering. 
 That she does me the honour of so much notice is merely 
 owing to an accident which, I am sure, is very painful to her 
 remembrance ; for it so happened that I once did her some 
 service in regard to an apartment at Southampton, and I 
 have since been informed that, at the time she accepted my 
 assistance, she thought I was a woman of quality : and I make 
 no doubt but she was miserable when she discovered me to be 
 a mere country gentlewoman : however, her nice notions of 
 decorum have made her load me with favours ever since. But 
 I am not much flattered by her civilities, as I am convinced I 
 
 339
 
 EVELINA 
 
 owe them neither to attachment nor gratitude, but solely to a 
 desire of cancelling an obligation which she cannot brook being 
 under to one whose name is nowhere to be found in the Court 
 Calendar.' 
 
 You well know, my dear Sir, the delight this lady takes in 
 giving way to her satirical humour. 
 
 Mrs. Beaumont received us very graciously, though she 
 somewhat distressed me by the questions she asked concerning 
 my family, — such as, Whether I was related to the Anvilles 
 in the North ? Whether some of my name did not live in 
 Lincolnshire ? and many other inquiries, which much em- 
 barrassed me. 
 
 The conversation next turned upon the intended marriage 
 in her family. She treated the subject with reserve, but it was 
 evident she disapproved Lady Louisa's choice. She spoke in 
 terms of the highest esteem of Lord Orville, calling him, in 
 Marmontel's words, Unjenne homme comme il y en a peu. 
 
 I did not think this conversation very agreeably interrupted 
 by the entrance of Mr. Lovel. Indeed I am heartily sorry he 
 is now at the Hotwells. He made his compliments with the 
 most obsequious respect to Mrs. Beaumont, but took no sort 
 of notice of any other person. 
 
 In a few minutes Lady Louisa Larpent made her appearance. 
 The same manners prevailed ; for curtsying, with, ' I hope 
 you are well, Ma'am,' to Mrs. Beaumont, she passed straight 
 forward to her seat on the sofa, where, leaning her head on 
 her hand, she cast her languishing eyes round the room, with 
 a vacant stare, as if determined, though she looked, not to see 
 who was in it. 
 
 Mr. Lovel presently approaching her, with reverence the 
 most profound, hoped her Ladyship was not indisposed. 
 
 ' Mr. Lovel ! ' cried she, raising her head, ' I declare I did 
 not see you ; have you been here long ? ' 
 
 ' By my watch, Madam,' said he, ' only five minutes, — but 
 by your Ladyship's absence, as many hours.' 
 
 ' O ! now I think of it,' cried she, ' I am very angry with 
 you, — so go along, do, for I sha'n't speak to you all day.' 
 
 ' Heaven forbid your La'ship's displeasure should last so 
 long ! in such cruel circumstances, a day would seem an age. 
 But in what have I been so unfortunate as to offend ? ' 
 
 ' O, you half killed me, the other morning, with terror ! I 
 
 34°
 
 EVELINA 
 
 have not yet recovered from my fright. How could you be so 
 cruel as to drive your phaeton against my Lord Merton's ?' 
 
 ' Ton honour, Ma'am, your La'ship does me wrong ; it was 
 all owing to the horses, — there was no curbing them. I protest 
 I suffered more than your Ladyship, from the terror of alarming 
 you.' 
 
 Just then entered Lord Merton ; stalking up to Mrs. 
 Beaumont, to whom alone he bowed, he hoped he had not 
 made her wait ; and then advancing to Lady Louisa, said, in a 
 careless manner, ' How is your Ladyship this morning ?' 
 
 • Not well at all,' answered she ; ' I have been dying with 
 the headache ever since I got up.' 
 
 ' Indeed ! ' cried he, with a countenance wholly unmoved, 
 ' I am very unhappy to hear it. But should not your Ladyship 
 have some advice ? ' 
 
 ' I am quite sick of advice,' answered she ; 'Mr. Ridgeway 
 has but just left me, — but he has done me no good. Nobody 
 here knows what is the matter with me, yet they all see how 
 indifferent I am.' 
 
 ' Your Ladyship's constitution,' said Mr. Lovel, ' is infinitely 
 delicate.' 
 
 ' Indeed it is,' cried she, in a low voice, ' I am 7ierve all over ! ' 
 
 ' I am glad, however,' said Lord Merton, ' that you did not 
 take the air this morning, for Coverley has been driving against 
 me as if he was mad : he has got two of the finest spirited 
 horses I ever saw.' 
 
 ' Pray, my Lord,' cried she, ' why did not you bring 
 Mr. Coverley with you ? he's a droll creature ; I like him 
 monstrously.' 
 
 ' Why, he promised to be here as soon as me. I suppose 
 he'll come before dinner's over.' 
 
 In the midst of this trifling conversation, Lord Orville made 
 his appearance. O how different was his address ! how 
 superior did he look and move, to all about him ! Having 
 paid his respects to Mrs. Beaumont, and then to Mrs. Selwyn, 
 he came up to me, and said, ' I hope Miss Anville has not 
 suffered from the fatigue of Monday morning ?' Then, turning 
 to Lady Louisa, who seemed rather surprised at his speaking 
 to me, he added, ' Give me leave, Sister, to introduce Miss 
 Anville to you.' 
 
 Lady Louisa, half rising, said, very coldly, that she should 
 
 34 1
 
 EVELINA 
 
 be glad of the honour of knowing me ; and then, abruptly 
 turning to Lord Merton and Mr. Lovel, continued, in a half- 
 whisper, her conversation. 
 
 For my part, I had risen and curtsied, and now, feeling 
 very foolish, I seated myself again ; first I blushed at the 
 unexpected politeness of Lord Orville, and immediately after- 
 wards, at the contemptuous failure of it in his sister. How can 
 that young lady see her brother so universally admired for his 
 manners and deportment, and yet be so unamiably opposite to 
 him in hers ! But while his mind, enlarged and noble, rises 
 superior to the little prejudices of rank, hers, feeble and 
 unsteady, sinks beneath their influence. 
 
 Lord Orville, I am sure, was hurt and displeased : he bit 
 his lips, and turning from her, addressed himself wholly to me, 
 till we were summoned to dinner. Do you think I was not 
 grateful for his attention ? yes, indeed, and every angry idea I 
 had entertained was totally obliterated. 
 
 As we were seating ourselves at the table, Mr. Coverley 
 came into the room : he made a thousand apologies in a breath 
 for being so late, but said he had been retarded by a little 
 accident, for that he had overturned his phaeton, and broke it 
 all to pieces. Lady Louisa screamed at this intelligence, and 
 looking at Lord Merton, declared she would never go into a 
 phaeton again. 
 
 ' O,' cried he, ' never mind Jack Coverley, for he does not 
 know how to drive.' 
 
 ' My Lord,' cried Mr. Coverley, ' I'll drive against /#« for a 
 thousand pounds. 5 
 
 ' Done ! ' returned the other ; ' name your day, and well 
 each choose a judge.' 
 
 'The sooner the better,' cried Mr. Coverley; 'to-morrow, 
 if the carriage can be repaired.' 
 
 ' These enterprises,' said Mrs. Selwyn, ' are very proper for 
 men of rank, since 'tis a million to one but both parties will be 
 incapacitated for any better employment.' 
 
 ' For Heaven's sake,' cried Lady Louisa, changing colour, 
 ' don't talk so shockingly ! Pray, my Lord, pray, Mr. Coverley, 
 don't alarm me in this manner.' 
 
 ' Compose yourself, Lady Louisa,' said Mrs. Beaumont, ' the 
 gentlemen will think better of the scheme ; they are neither of 
 them in earnest.' 
 
 342
 
 EVELINA 
 
 'The very mention of such a scheme,' said Lady Louisa, 
 taking out her salts, ' makes me tremble all over ! Indeed, my 
 Lord, you have frightened me to death ! I sha'n't eat a morsel 
 of dinner.' 
 
 'Permit me,' said Lord Orville, 'to propose some other 
 subject for the present, and we will discuss this matter another 
 time.' 
 
 ' Pray, Brother, excuse me ; my Lord must give me his 
 word to drop this project, — for, I declare, it has made me sick 
 as death.' 
 
 ' To compromise the matter,' said Lord Orville, ' suppose, if 
 both parties are unwilling to give up the bet, that, to make the 
 ladies easy, we change its object to something less dangerous?' 
 
 This proposal was so strongly seconded by all the party, 
 that both Lord Merton and Mr. Coverley were obliged to 
 comply with it ; and it was then agreed that the affair should 
 be finally settled in the afternoon. 
 
 ' I shall now be entirely out of conceit with phaetons again,' 
 said Mrs. Selwyn, ' though Lord Orville had almost reconciled 
 me to them.' 
 
 'My Lord Orville!' cried the witty Mr. Coverley, 'why, 
 my Lord Orville is as careful, — egad, as careful as an old 
 woman ! Why, I'd drive a one-horse cart against my Lord's 
 phaeton for a hundred guineas ! ' 
 
 This sally occasioned much laughter ; for Mr. Coverley, I 
 find, is regarded as a man of infinite humour. 
 
 'Perhaps, Sir,' said Mrs. Selwyn, 'you have not discovered 
 the reason my Lord Orville is so careful ? ' 
 
 ' Why, no, Ma'am ; I must own, I never heard any particular 
 reason for it.' 
 
 'Why then, Sir, I'll tell it you; and I believe you will 
 confess it to be very particular ; his Lordship's friends are not 
 yet tired of him.' 
 
 Lord Orville laughed and bowed. Mr. Coverley, a little 
 confused, turned to Lord Merton, and said, ' No foul play, my 
 Lord ! I remember your Lordship recommended me to the 
 notice of this lady the other morning, and, egad, I believe you 
 have been doing me the same office to-day.' 
 
 ' Give you joy, Jack ! ' cried Lord Merton, with a loud 
 laugh. 
 
 After this, the conversation turned wholly upon eating, a 
 
 343
 
 EVELINA 
 
 subject which was discussed with the utmost delight ; and, had 
 I not known they were men of rank and fashion, I should have 
 imagined that Lord Merton, Mr. Lovel, and Mr. Coverley had 
 all been professed cooks ; for they displayed so much know- 
 ledge of sauces and made dishes, and of the various methods 
 of dressing the same things, that I am persuaded they must 
 have given much time, and much study, to make themselves 
 such adepts in this art. It would be very difficult to determine 
 whether they were most to be distinguished as gluttons or 
 epicures ; for they were at once dainty and voracious, under- 
 stood the right and the wrong of every dish, and alike emptied 
 the one and the other. I should have been quite sick of their 
 remarks, had I not been entertained by seeing that Lord 
 Orville, who, I am sure, was equally disgusted, not only read 
 my sentiments, but, by his countenance, communicated to me 
 his own. 
 
 When dinner was over, Mrs. Beaumont recommended the 
 gentlemen to the care of Lord Orville, and then attended the 
 ladies to the drawing-room. 
 
 The conversation, till tea-time, was extremely insipid ; Mrs. 
 Selwyn reserved herself for the gentlemen, Mrs. Beaumont was 
 grave, and Lady Louisa languid. 
 
 But at tea everybody revived ; we were joined by the 
 gentlemen, and gaiety took place of dulness. 
 
 Since I, as Mr. Lovel says, am Nobody} I seated myself 
 quietly at a window, and not very near to anybody : Lord 
 Merton, Mr. Coverley, and Mr. Lovel, severally passed me 
 without notice, and surrounded the chair of Lady Louisa 
 Larpent. I must own, I was rather piqued at the behaviour 
 of Mr. Lovel, as he had formerly known me. It is true, I 
 most sincerely despise his foppery, yet I should be grieved to 
 meet with contempt from anybody. But I was by no means 
 sorry to find that Lord Merton was determined not to know 
 me before Lady Louisa, as his neglect relieved me from much 
 embarrassment. As to Mr. Coverley, his attention or disregard 
 were equally indifferent to me. Yet, altogether, I felt extremely 
 uncomfortable in finding myself considered in a light very 
 inferior to the rest of the company. 
 
 But when Lord Orville appeared, the scene changed ; he 
 came upstairs last, and seeing me sit alone, not only spoke to 
 1 P- 30. 
 344
 
 Surrounded the chair of Lady Louisa Larpcnt.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 me directly, but drew a chair next mine, and honoured me 
 with his entire attention. 
 
 He inquired very particularly after my health, and hoped I 
 had already found benefit from the Bristol air. ' How little 
 did I imagine,' added he, ' when I had last the pleasure of 
 seeing you in town, that ill-health would, in so short a time, 
 have brought you hither ! I am ashamed of myself for the 
 satisfaction I feel at seeing you, — yet, how can I help it ? ' 
 
 He then inquired after the Mirvan family, and spoke of 
 Mrs. Mirvan in terms of most just praise. ' She is gentle and 
 amiable,' said he, ' a true feminine character.' 
 
 'Yes, indeed,' answered I, 'and her sweet daughter, to say 
 everything of her at once, is just the daughter such a mother 
 deserves.' 
 
 ' I am glad of it,' said he, ' for both their sakes, as such 
 near relations must always reflect credit or disgrace on each 
 other.' 
 
 After this, he began to speak of the beauties of Clifton ; 
 but, in a few moments, he was interrupted by a call from the 
 company to discuss the affair of the wager. Lord Merton and 
 Mr. Coverley, though they had been discoursing upon the 
 subject some time, could not fix upon the thing that satisfied 
 them both. 
 
 "When they asked the assistance of Lord Orville, he proposed 
 that everybody present should vote something, and that the 
 two gentlemen should draw lots which, from the several votes, 
 should decide the bet. 
 
 ' We must then begin with the ladies,' said Lord Orville ; 
 and applied to Mrs. Selwyn. 
 
 ' With all my heart,' answered she, with her usual readiness ; 
 ' and, since the gentlemen are not allowed to risk their necks, 
 suppose we decide the bet by their heads f 1 
 
 'By our heads?' cried Mr. Coverley; 'egad, I don't 
 understand you.' 
 
 ' I will then explain myself more fully. As I doubt not 
 but you are both excellent classics, suppose, for the good of 
 your own memories, and the entertainment and surprise of the 
 company, the thousand pounds should fall to the share of him 
 who can repeat by heart the longest ode of Horace ? ' 
 
 Nobody could help laughing, the two gentlemen applied to 
 excepted ; who seemed, each of them, rather at a loss in what 
 
 346
 
 EVELINA 
 
 manner to receive this unexpected proposal. At length Mr. 
 Coverley, bowing low, said, ' Will your Lordship please to 
 begin ? ' 
 
 ' Devil take me if I do ! ' answered he, turning on his heel, 
 and stalking to the window. 
 
 ' Come, Gentlemen,' said Mrs. Selwyn, ' why do you 
 hesitate ? I am sure you cannot be afraid of a weak woman ? 
 besides, if you should chance to be out, Mr. Lovel, I daresay, 
 will have the goodness to assist you.' 
 
 The laugh now turned against Mr. Lovel, whose change of 
 countenance manifested no great pleasure at the transition. 
 
 ' Me, Madam ! ' said he, colouring, ' no, really I must beg 
 to be excused.' 
 
 ' Why so, Sir ? ' 
 
 ' Why so, Ma'am ! Why, really, — as to that, — 'pon honour, 
 Ma'am, you are rather — a little severe ; — for how is it possible 
 for a man who is in the House to study the classics ? I 
 assure you, Ma'am,' (with an affected shrug) ' I find quite 
 business enough for my poor head in studying politics.' 
 
 ' But, did you study politics at school, and at the university ? ' 
 
 ' At the university ! ' repeated he with an embarrassed look ; 
 ' why, as to that, Ma'am, — no, I can't say I did ; but then, 
 what with riding, — and — and — and so forth, — really one has 
 not much time, even at the university, for mere reading.' 
 
 ' But, to be sure, Sir, you have read the classics ? ' 
 
 'O dear, yes, Ma'am! — very often, — but not very — not 
 very lately.' 
 
 ' Which of the odes do you recommend to these gentlemen 
 to begin with ? ' 
 
 ' Which of the odes ! Really, Ma'am, as to that, I have 
 no very particular choice, — for, to own the truth, that Horace 
 was never a very great favourite with me.' 
 
 ' In truth I believe you !' said Mrs. Selwyn, very drily. 
 
 Lord Merton, again advancing into the circle, with a nod 
 and a laugh, said, ' Give you joy, Lovel ! ' 
 
 Lord Orville next applied to Mrs. Beaumont for her vote. 
 
 ' It would very agreeably remind me of past times,' said 
 she, ' when bowing was in fashion, if the bet was to depend 
 upon the best-made bow.' 
 
 'Egad, my Lord!' cried Mr. Coverley, 'there I should 
 beat you hollow, for your Lordship never bows at all.' 
 
 347
 
 EVELINA 
 
 'And, pray Sir, do you?' 1 said Mrs. Selwyn. 
 
 ' Do /, Ma'am ! ' cried he, ' why, only see ! ' 
 
 ' I protest,' cried she, ' I should have taken that for a shrug, 
 if you had not told me 'twas a bow.' 
 
 ' My Lord,' cried Mr. Coverley, let's practise ' ; and then, 
 most ridiculously, they pranced about the room, making bows. 
 
 ' We must now,' said Lord Orville, turning to me, ' call 
 upon Miss Anville.' 
 
 ' O no, my Lord,' cried I, ' indeed I have nothing to 
 propose.' He would not, however, be refused, but urged me 
 so much to say something, that at last, not to make him wait 
 any longer, I ventured to propose an extempore couplet upon 
 some given subject. 
 
 Mr. Coverley instantly made me a bow, or, according to 
 Mrs. Selwyn, a shrug, crying, 'Thank you, Ma'am; egad, 
 that's my forte ! Why, my Lord, the Fates seem against you.' 
 
 Lady Louisa was then applied to ; and everybody seemed 
 eager to hear her opinion. ' I don't know what to say, I 
 declare,' cried she affectedly ; ' can't you pass me ? ' 
 
 ' By no means ! ' said Lord Merton. 
 
 ' Is it possible your Ladyship can make so cruel a request ? ' 
 said Mr. Lovel. 
 
 ' Egad,' cried Mr. Coverley, ' if your Ladyship does not 
 help us in this dilemma, we shall be forced to return to our 
 phaetons.' 
 
 ' Oh,' cried Lady Louisa, screaming, ' you frightful creature 
 you, how can you be so abominable ? ' 
 
 I believe this trifling lasted near half an hour ; when, at 
 length, everybody being tired, it was given up, and she said 
 she would consider against another time. 
 
 Lord Orville now called upon Mr. Lovel, who, after about 
 ten minutes' deliberation, proposed, with a most important face, 
 to determine the wager by who should draw the longest straw ! 
 
 1 had much difficulty to forbear laughing at this unmeaning 
 scheme ; but saw, to my great surprise, not the least change 
 of countenance in any other person : and, since we came 
 home, Mrs. Selwyn has informed me, that to draw straws is a 
 fashion of betting by no means uncommon ! Good God ! my 
 dear Sir, does it not seem as if money were of no value or 
 service, since those who possess squander it away in a manner 
 so infinitely absurd ! 
 
 348
 
 I 
 
 
 They pratu ed about tlic room, making hows,
 
 EVELINA 
 
 It now only remained for Lord Orville to speak ; and the 
 attention of the company showed the expectations he had 
 raised ; yet, I believe, they by no means prevented his 
 proposal from being heard with amazement ; for it was no 
 other, than that the money should be his due, who, according 
 to the opinion of two judges, should bring the worthiest object 
 with whom to share it ! 
 
 They all stared, without speaking. Indeed, I believe every- 
 one, for a moment at least, experienced something like shame, 
 from having either proposed or countenanced an extravagance 
 so useless and frivolous. For my part, I was so much struck 
 and affected by a rebuke so noble to these spendthrifts, that I 
 felt my eyes filled with tears. 
 
 The short silence and momentary reflection into which the 
 company was surprised, Mr. Coverley was the first to dispel, 
 by saying, ' Egad, my Lord, your Lordship has a most 
 remarkable odd way of taking things.' 
 
 'Faith,' said the incorrigible Lord Merton, 'if this scheme 
 takes, I shall fix upon my Swiss to share with me ; for I don't 
 know a worthier fellow breathing.' 
 
 After a few more of these attempts at wit, the two gentlemen 
 agreed that they would settle the affair the next morning. 
 
 The conversation then took a different turn, but I did not 
 give it sufficient attention to write any account of it. Not 
 long after, Lord Orville resuming his seat near mine, said, 
 ' Why is Miss Anville so thoughtful ? ' 
 
 ' I am sorry, my Lord,' said I, ' to consider myself among 
 those who have so justly incurred your censure.' 
 
 ' My censure ! you amaze me ! ' 
 
 ' Indeed, my Lord, you have made me quite ashamed of 
 myself, for having given my vote so foolishly, when an 
 opportunity offered, if, like your Lordship, I had had the 
 sense to use it, of showing some humanity.' 
 
 ' You treat this too seriously,' said he, smiling ; ' and I 
 hardly know if you do not now mean a rebuke to me. 1 
 
 ' To you, my Lord ! ' 
 
 ' Nay, who are most deserving of it, those who adapt the 
 conversation to the company, or, those who affect to be superior 
 to it ? ' 
 
 ' O, my Lord, who else would do you so little justice ? ' 
 
 ' I flatter myself,' answered he, 'that, in fact, your opinion 
 
 35°
 
 EVELINA 
 
 and mine, in this point, are the same, though you condescended 
 to comply with the humour of the company. It is for me, 
 therefore, to apologise for so unseasonable a gravity, which, 
 but for the particular interest that I now take in the affairs of 
 Lord Merton, I should not have been so officious to display.' 
 
 Such a compliment as this could not fail to reconcile me to 
 myself ; and with revived spirits, I entered into a conversation, 
 which he supported with me till Mrs. Selwyn's carriage was 
 announced, and we returned home. 
 
 During our ride, Mrs. Selwyn very much surprised me, by 
 asking if I thought my health would now permit me to give 
 up my morning walks to the pump-room, for the purpose of 
 spending a week at Clifton? 'for this poor Mrs. Beaumont,' 
 added she, ' is so eager to have a discharge in full of her debt 
 to me, that, out of mere compassion, I am induced to listen 
 to her. Besides, she has always a house full of people, and - ] 
 though they are chiefly fools and coxcombs, yet there is some \ 
 pleasure in cutting them up.' ^— J 
 
 I begged I might not, by any means, prevent her following 
 her inclination, as my health was now very well established. 
 And so, my dear Sir, to-morrow we are to be, actually, the 
 guests of Mrs. Beaumont. 
 
 I am not much delighted at this scheme ; for, greatly as I 
 am flattered by the attention of Lord Orville, it is not very 
 comfortable to be neglected by everybody else. Besides, as 
 I am sure I owe the particularity of his civility to a generous 
 feeling for my situation, I cannot expect him to support it so 
 long as a week. 
 
 How often do I wish, since I am absent from you, that I 
 was under the protection of Mrs. Mirvan ! It is true, Mrs. 
 Selwyn is very obliging, and, in every respect, treats me as an 
 equal ; but she is contented with behaving well herself, and 
 does not, with a distinguishing politeness, raise and support 
 me with others. Yet I mean not to blame her, for I know 
 she is sincerely my friend ; but the fact is, she is herself so 
 much occupied in conversation, when in company, that she 
 has neither leisure nor thought to attend to the silent. 
 
 Well, I must take my chance ! But I knew not, till now, 
 how requisite are birth and fortune to the attainment of 
 respect and civility. 
 
 35*
 
 EVELINA 
 LETTER LXV 
 
 EVELINA IN CONTINUATION 
 
 Clifton - , Sept. 20. 
 
 Here I am, my dear Sir, under the same roof, and inmate 
 of the same house, as Lord Orville ! Indeed, if this were not 
 the case, my situation would be very disagreeable, as you will 
 easily believe, when I tell you the light in which I am generally 
 considered. 
 
 '.My dear,' said Mrs. Selwyn, 'did you ever before meet 
 with that egregious fop, Lovel ? ! 
 
 I very readily satisfied her as to my acquaintance with him. 
 
 ' O then,' said she, ' I am the less surprised at his ill-nature, 
 since he has already injured you.' 
 
 I begged her to explain herself; and then she told me, 
 that while Lord Orville was speaking to me, Lady Louisa said 
 to Mr. Lovel, ' Do you know who that is ? ' 
 
 ' Why, Ma'am, no, 'pon honour,' answered he, ' I can't 
 absolutely say I do ; I only know she is a kind of a toad- 
 eater. She made her first appearance in that capacity last 
 spring, when she attended Miss Mirvan, a young lady of 
 Kent.' 
 
 How cruel is it, my dear Sir, to be thus exposed to the 
 impertinent suggestions of a man who is determined to do me 
 ill offices ! Lady Louisa may well despise a toad-eater ; but, 
 thank Heaven, her brother has not heard, or does not credit, 
 the mortifying appellation. Mrs. Selwyn said she would 
 advise me to pay my court to this Mr. Lovel ; 'for,' said she, 
 ' though he is malicious, he is fashionable, and may do you 
 some harm in the great world.' But I should disdain myself 
 as much as I do him, were I capable of such duplicity as to 
 flatter a man whom I scorn and despise. 
 
 We were received by Mrs. Beaumont with great civility, 
 and by Lord Orville with something more. As to Lady 
 Louisa, she scarcely perceived that we were in the room. 
 
 There has been company here all day, part of which I 
 have spent most happily ; for after tea, when the ladies played 
 at cards, Lord Orville, who does not, and I, who cannot play, 
 
 35 2
 
 EVELINA 
 
 were consequently at our own disposal ; and then his Lordship 
 entered into a conversation with me, which lasted till supper- 
 time. 
 
 Almost insensibly, I find the constraint, the reserve, I have 
 been wont to feel in his presence, wear away ; the politeness, 
 the sweetness, with which he speaks to me, restore all my 
 natural cheerfulness, and make me almost as easy as he is 
 himself, and the more so, as, if I may judge by his looks, I 
 am rather raised, than sunk, of late in his opinion. 
 
 I asked him how the bet was, at last, to be decided ? He 
 told me, that, to his great satisfaction, the parties had been 
 prevailed upon to lower the sum from one thousand to one 
 hundred pounds ; and that they had agreed it should be 
 determined by a race between two old women, one of which 
 was to be chosen by each side, and both were to be proved 
 more than eighty years of age, though, in other respects, 
 strong and healthy as possible. 
 
 When I expressed my surprise at this extraordinary method 
 of spending so much money — ' I am charmed,' said he, 'at the 
 novelty of meeting with one so unhackneyed in the world as 
 not to be yet influenced by custom to forget the use of reason, 
 for certain it is, that the prevalence of fashion makes the 
 greatest absurdities pass uncensured, and the mind naturally 
 accommodates itself even to the most ridiculous improprieties 
 if they occur frequently.' 
 
 ' I should have hoped,' said I, ' that the humane proposal 
 made yesterday by your Lordship would have had more 
 effect.' 
 
 ' O,' cried he, laughing, ' I was so far from expecting any 
 success, that I shall think myself very fortunate if I escape the 
 wit of Mr. Coverley in a lampoon ! yet I spoke openly, because 
 I do not wish to conceal that I am no friend to gaming.' 
 
 After this, he took up the New Bath Guide, and read it 
 with me till supper-time. In our way downstairs, Lady 
 Louisa said, ' I thought, Brother, you were engaged this 
 evening ? ' 
 
 •Yes, Sister,' answered he, 'and I have been engaged.' 
 And he bowed to me with an air of gallantry that rather 
 confused me. 
 
 353 2 A
 
 J VrtuI^ixV-vx^ 
 
 /;/ our way downstairs.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 September 23. 
 
 Almost insensibly have three days glided on since I wrote 
 last, and so serenely, that, but for your absence, I could not 
 have formed a wish. My residence here is much happier than 
 I had dared expect. The attention with which Lord Orvill 
 honours me is as uniform as it is flattering, and seems t 
 result from a benevolence of heart that proves him as much a 
 stranger to caprice as to pride ; for, as his particular civilities 
 arose from a generous resentment at seeing me neglected, so 
 will they, I trust, continue, as long as I shall, in any degree, 
 deserve them. I am now not merely easy, but even gay in 
 his presence : such is the effect of true politeness, that it. 
 banishes all restraint and embarrassment. When we walk 
 out, he condescends to be my companion, and keeps by my 
 side all the way we go. When we read, he marks the 
 passages most worthy to be noticed, draws out my sentiments, 
 and favours me with his own. At table, where he always sits 
 next to me, he obliges me by a thousand nameless attentions, 
 while the distinguishing good-breeding with which he treats 
 me, prevents my repining at the visibly-felt superiority of the 
 rest of the company. A thousand occasional meetings could 
 not have brought us to that degree of social freedom, which 
 four days spent under the same roof have, insensibly, been 
 productive of: and, as my only friend in this house, Mrs. 
 Sehvyn, is too much engrossed in perpetual conversation to 
 attend much to me, Lord Orville seems to regard me as a 
 helpless stranger, and, as such, to think me entitled to his 
 good offices and protection. Indeed, my dear Sir, I have 
 reason to hope, that the depreciating opinion he formerly 
 entertained of me is succeeded by one infinitely more partial. 
 It may be that I flatter myself, but yet his looks, his atten- 
 tions, his desire of drawing me into conversation, and his 
 solicitude to oblige me, all conspire to make me hope I do 
 not. In short, my dearest Sir, these last four happy days 
 would repay me for months of sorrow and pain ! 
 
 355
 
 EVELINA 
 LETTER LXVI 
 
 EVELINA IN CONTINUATION 
 
 Clifton, Sept. 24. 
 
 This morning I came downstairs very early, and supposing 
 that the family would not assemble for some time, I strolled 
 out, purposing- to take a long walk, in the manner I was wont 
 to do at Berry Hill, before breakfast. But I had scarce shut 
 the garden gate before I was met by a gentleman, who, im- 
 mediately bowing to me, I recollected to be the unhappy Mr. 
 Macartney. Very much surprised, I curtsied, and stopped 
 till he came up to me. He was still in mourning, but looked 
 better than when I saw him last, though he had the same air 
 of melancholy which so much struck me. at first sight of him. 
 
 Addressing me with the utmost respect, ' I am happy, 
 Madam,' said he, ' to have met with you so soon. I came to 
 Bristol but yesterday, and have had no small difficulty in 
 tracing you to Clifton.' 
 
 ' Did you know, then, of my being here ?' 
 ' I did, Madam ; the sole motive of my journey was to see 
 you. I have been to Berry Hill, and there I had my intelli- 
 gence, and, at the same time, the unwelcome information of 
 your ill health.' 
 
 ' Good God ! Sir, and can you possibly have taken so 
 much trouble ? ' 
 
 ' Trouble ! Oh, Madam, could there be any, to return you, 
 the moment I had the power, my personal acknowledgments 
 for your goodness ? ' 
 
 I then inquired after Madame Duval and the Snow Hill 
 family. He told me they were all well, and that Madame 
 Duval proposed soon returning to Paris. When I congratulated 
 him upon looking better, ' It is yourself. Madam,' said he, 'you 
 should congratulate, for to your humanity alone it may now 
 be owing that I exist at all.' He then told me that his affairs 
 were now in a less desperate situation, and that he hoped, by 
 the assistance of time and reason, to accommodate his mind 
 to a more cheerful submission to his fate. ' The interest you 
 so generously took in my affliction,' added he, 'assures me 
 
 35 6
 
 EVELINA 
 
 you will not be displeased to hear of my better fortune ; I was 
 therefore eager to acquaint you with it.' He then told me 
 that his friend, the moment he had received his letter, quitted 
 Paris, and flew to give him his personal assistance and con- 
 solation. With a heavy heart he acknowledged, he accepted 
 it ; ' but yet,' he added, ' I have accepted it, and therefore, as 
 bound equally by duty and honour, my first step was to hasten 
 to the benefactress of my distress, and to return ' (presenting 
 me something in a paper) ' the only part of my obligations 
 that can be returned ; for the rest, I have nothing but my 
 gratitude to offer, and must always be contented to consider 
 myself her debtor.' 
 
 I congratulated him most sincerely upon his dawning 
 prosperity, but begged he would not deprive me of the 
 pleasure of being his friend, and declined receiving the money 
 till his affairs were more settled. 
 
 While this point was in agitation, I heard Lord Orville's 
 voice inquiring of the gardener if he had seen me ? I 
 immediately opened the garden gate, and his Lordship, 
 advancing to me with quickness, said, ' Good God ! Miss 
 Anville, have you been out alone ? Breakfast has been ready 
 some time, and I have been round the garden in search of 
 you.' 
 
 ' Your Lordship has been very good,' said I ; ' but I hope 
 you have not waited.' 
 
 ' Not waited ! ' repeated he, smiling, ' do you think we 
 could sit down quietly to breakfast, with the idea that you had 
 run away from us ? But come ' (offering to hand me), ' if we 
 do not return, they will suppose / am run away too ; and they 
 very naturally may, as they know the attraction of the magnet 
 that draws me.' 
 
 • I will come, my Lord,' said I, rather embarrassed, ' in two 
 minutes.' Then, turning to Mr. Macartney, with yet more 
 embarrassment, I wished him good morning. 
 
 He advanced towards the garden, with the paper still in 
 his hand. 
 
 ' Xo, no,' cried I, 'some other time.' 
 
 ' May I then, Madam, have the honour of seeing - you again ? ' 
 
 I did not dare take the liberty of inviting anybody to the 
 house of Mrs. Beaumont, nor yet had I the presence of mind 
 to make an excuse ; and therefore, not knowing how to refuse 
 
 357
 
 EVELINA 
 
 him, I said, ' Perhaps you may be this way again to-morrow 
 morning, and I believe I shall walk out before breakfast.' 
 
 He bowed, and went away ; while I, turning again to Lord 
 Orville, saw his countenance so much altered, that I was 
 frightened at what I had so hastily said. He did not again 
 offer me his hand, but walked, silent and slow, by my side. 
 Good Heaven ! thought I, what may he not suppose from this 
 adventure ? May he not, by my desire of meeting Mr. 
 Macartney to-morrow, imagine it was by design I walked out 
 to meet him to-day? Tormented by this apprehension, f~7 
 determined to avail myself of the freedom which his behaviour 
 since I came hither has encouraged, and, since he would not 
 ask any questions, begin an explanation myself. I therefore 
 slackened my pace to gain time, and then said, ' Was not 
 your Lordship surprised to see me speaking with a stranger ? ' 
 
 ' A stranger ! ' repeated he ; ' is it possible that gentleman 
 can be a stranger to you ? ' 
 
 ' No, my Lord, 5 said I, stammering, ' not to me, — but only 
 it might look — he might seem ' 
 
 ' No, believe me,' said he, with a forced smile, ' I could 
 never suppose Miss Anville would make an appointment with 
 a stranger.' 
 
 ' An appointment, my Lord ! ' repeated I, colouring violently. 
 
 'Pardon me, Madam,' answered he, 'but I thought I had 
 heard one.' 
 
 I was so much confounded that I could not speak ; yet, 
 finding he walked quietly on, I could not endure he should 
 make his own interpretation of my silence, and therefore, as 
 soon as I recovered from my surprise, I said, ' Indeed, my 
 Lord, you are much mistaken, — Mr. Macartney had particular 
 business with me — and I could not — I knew not how to 
 refuse seeing him, — but indeed, my Lord — I had not — he 
 had not, ' I stammered so terribly that I could not go on. 
 
 ' I am very sorry,' said he, gravely, ' that I have been so 
 unfortunate as to distress you, but I should not have followed 
 you had I not imagined you were merely walked out for the 
 air.' 
 
 ' And so I was ! ' cried I eagerly, ' indeed, my Lord, I was ! 
 My meeting with Mr. Macartney was quite accidental ; and if 
 your Lordship thinks there is any impropriety in my seeing 
 him to-morrow I am ready to give up that intention.' 
 
 353
 
 Evelina 
 
 ' If / think !'" said he, in a tone of surprise ; 'surely Miss 
 Anville must best judye for herself! surely she cannot leave 
 the arbitration of a point so delicate to one who is ignorant 
 of all the circumstances which attend it ? ' 
 
 ' If,' said I, • it was worth your Lordship's time to hear 
 them, you should not be ignorant of the circumstances whnch 
 attend it.' 
 
 ' The sweetness of Miss Anville's disposition,' said he, in a 
 softened voice, ' I have long admired, and the offer of a com- 
 munication which does me so much honour, is too grateful to 
 me not to be eagerly caught at.' 
 
 Just then, Mrs. Selwyn opened the parlour window, and 
 our conversation ended. I was rallied upon my passion for 
 solitary walking, but no questions were asked me. 
 
 When breakfast was over, I hoped to have had some 
 opportunity of speaking with Lord Orville, but Lord Merton 
 and Mr. Coverley came in, and insisted upon his opinion of 
 the spot they had fixed upon for the old women's race. The 
 ladies declared they would be of the party, and, accordingly, 
 we all went. 
 
 The race is to be run in Mrs. Beaumont's garden ; the two 
 gentlemen are as anxious as if their joint lives depended upon 
 it. They have, at length, fixed upon objects, but have found 
 great difficulty in persuading them to practise running, in 
 order to try their strength. This grand affair is to be decided 
 next Thursday. 
 
 When we returned to the house, the entrance of more 
 company still prevented my having any conversation with 
 Lord Orville. I was very much chagrined, as I knew he was 
 engaged at the Hotwells in the afternoon. Seeing, therefore, 
 no probability of speaking to him before the time of my 
 meeting Mr. Macartney arrived, I determined that, rather 
 than risk his ill opinion, I would leave Mr. Macartney to his 
 own suggestions. 
 
 Yet, when I reflected upon his peculiar situation, his 
 poverty, his sadness, and, more than all the rest, the idea I 
 knew he entertained of what he calls his obligations to me, I 
 could not resolve upon a brea< h of promise, which might be 
 attributed to causes of all others the most offensive to one 
 whom misfortune has made extremely suspicious of slights and 
 contempt. 
 
 359
 
 EVELINA 
 
 After the most uneasy consideration, I at length determined 
 upon writing an excuse, which would at once save me from 
 either meeting or affronting him. I therefore begged Mrs. 
 Selwyn's leave to send her man to the Hotwells, which she 
 instantly granted ; and then I wrote the following note : — 
 
 TO MR. MACARTNEY 
 
 Sir, — As it will not be in my power to walk out to-morrow 
 morning, I would by no means give you the trouble of coming 
 to Clifton. I hope, however, to have the pleasure of seeing 
 you before you quit Bristol.- — I am, Sir, your obedient servant, 
 
 Evelina Anville. 
 
 I desired the servant to inquire at the Pump-room where 
 Mr. Macartney lived, and returned to the parlour. 
 
 As soon as the company dispersed, the ladies retired to 
 dress. I then, unexpectedly, found myself alone with Lord 
 Orville, who, the moment I rose to follow Mrs. Selwyn, 
 advanced to me, and said, ' Will Miss Anville pardon my 
 impatience, if I remind her of the promise she was so good as 
 to make me this morning ? ' 
 
 I stopped, and would have returned to my seat, but before 
 I had time the servants came to lay the cloth. He retreated, 
 and went towards the window ; and while I was considering 
 in what manner to begin, 1 could not help asking myself what 
 right I had to communicate the affairs of Mr. Macartney ; 
 and I doubted whether, to clear myself from one act of 
 imprudence, I had not committed another. 
 
 Distressed by this reflection, I thought it best to quit the 
 room, and give myself some time for consideration before I 
 spoke, and therefore, only saying I must hasten to dress, I 
 ran upstairs — rather abruptly, I own, and so, I fear, Lord 
 Orville must think ; yet what could I do ? Unused to the situa- 
 tions in which I find myself, and embarrassed by the slightest 
 difficulties, I seldom, till too late, discover how I ought to act. 
 
 Just as we were all assembled to dinner, Mrs. Selwyn's 
 man, coming into the parlour, presented to me a letter, and 
 said, ' I can't find out Mr. Macartney, Madam, but the post- 
 office people will let you know if they hear of him.' 
 
 I was extremely ashamed of this public message, and, 
 360
 
 EVELINA 
 
 meeting the eyes of Lord Orville, which were earnestly fixed 
 on me, my confusion redoubled, and I knew not which way to 
 look. All dinner-time he was as silent as myself, and the 
 moment it was in my power I left the table, and went to my 
 own room. Mrs. Selwyn presently followed me, and her 
 questions obliged me to own almost all the particulars of my 
 acquaintance with Mr. Macartney, in order to excuse my 
 writing to him. She said it was a most romantic affair, and 
 spoke her sentiments with great severity, declaring that she 
 had no doubt but he was an adventurer and an impostor. 
 
 And now, my dear Sir, I am totally at a loss what I ought 
 to do : the more I reflect, the more sensible I am of the utter 
 impropriety, nay, treachery, of revealing the story and pub- 
 lishing the misfortunes and poverty of Mr. Macartney, who 
 has an undoubted right to my secrecy and discretion, and 
 whose letter charges me to regard his communication as sacred. 
 And yet, the appearance of mystery — perhaps something 
 worse — which this affair must have to Lord Orville, — his 
 seriousness, and the promise I have made him, are induce- 
 ments scarce to be resisted for trusting him, with the openness 
 he has reason to expect from me. 
 
 I am equally distressed, too, whether or not I should see 
 Mr. Macartney to-morrow morning. 
 
 Oh, Sir, could I now be enlightened by your counsel, from 
 what anxiety and perplexity should I be relieved ! 
 
 But no, — I ought not to betray Mr. Macartney, and I will 
 not forfeit a confidence which would never have been reposed 
 in me, but from a reliance upon my honour which I should 
 blush to find myself unworthy of. Desirous as I am of the 
 good opinion of Lord Orville, I will endeavour to act as if 
 I was guided by your advice, and, making it my sole aim 
 to deserve it, leave to time and to fate my success or 
 disappointment. 
 
 Since I have formed this resolution, my mind is more at 
 ease ; but I will not finish my letter till the affair is decided. 
 
 Sept. 25. 
 
 I rose very early this morning, and, after a thousand 
 different plans, not being able to resolve upon giving poor Mr. 
 Macartney leave to suppose I neglected him, 1 thought it 
 
 361
 
 EVELINA 
 
 incumbent upon me to keep my word, since he had not 
 received my letter ; I therefore determined to make my own 
 apologies, not to stay with him two minutes, and to excuse 
 myself from meeting him any more. 
 
 Yet, uncertain whether I was wrong or right, it was with 
 fear and trembling that I opened the garden gate, — judge, 
 then, of my feelings, when the first object I saw was Lord 
 Orville ! — he, too, looked extremely disconcerted, and said, in 
 a hesitating manner, ' Pardon me, Madam, I did not intend 
 — I did not imagine you would have been here so soon — or — 
 or I would not have come.' And then, with a hasty bow, he 
 passed me, and proceeded to the garden. 
 
 I was scarce able to stand, so greatly did I feel myself 
 shocked; but, upon my saying, almost involuntarily, 'Oh, my 
 Lord ! ' he turned back, and, after a short pause, said, ' Did 
 you speak to ;;/<?, Madam ? ' 
 
 I could not immediately answer ; I seemed choked, and was 
 even forced to support myself by the garden gate. 
 
 Lord Orville, soon recovering his dignity, said, ' I know not 
 how to apologise for being, just now, at this place ; and I 
 cannot immediately — if ever — clear myself from the imputa- 
 tion of impertinent curiosity, to which I fear you will attribute 
 it : however, at present, I will only entreat your pardon, without 
 detaining you any longer.' Again he bowed, and left me. 
 
 For some moments I remained fixed to the same spot and 
 in the same position, immovably as if I had been transformed 
 to stone. My first impulse was to call him back, and instantly 
 tell him the whole affair ; but I checked this desire, though I 
 would have given the world to have indulged it ; something 
 like pride aided what I thought due to Mr. Macartney, and 
 I determined not only to keep his secret, but to delay any 
 sort of explanation, till Lord Orville should condescend to 
 request it. 
 
 Slowly he walked, and before he entered the house he 
 looked back, but hastily withdrew his eyes, upon finding I 
 observed him. 
 
 Indeed, my dear Sir, you cannot easily imagine a situation 
 more uncomfortable than mine was at that time ; to be sus- 
 pected by Lord Orville of any clandestine actions wounded 
 my soul. I was too much discomposed to wait for Mr. 
 Macartney, nor, in truth, could I endure to have the design of 
 
 362
 
 EVELINA 
 
 my staying so well known. Yet I was so extremely agitated 
 that I could hardly move, and, I have reason to believe, Lord 
 Orville, from the parlour window, saw me tottering along, for, 
 before I had taken five steps, he came out, and hastening to 
 meet me, said, ' I fear you are not well ; pray allow me 
 (offering his arm) to assist you. 5 
 
 ' No, my Lord/ said I, with all the resolution I could 
 assume ; yet I was affected by an attention, at that time so 
 little expected, and forced to turn away my head to conceal 
 my emotion. 
 
 ' You must,' said he, with earnestness, ' indeed you must — 
 I am sure you are not well ; refuse me not the honour of 
 assisting you'; and, almost forcibly, he took my hand, and, 
 drawing it under his arm, obliged me to lean upon him. That 
 I submitted was partly the effect of surprise at an earnestness 
 so uncommon in Lord Orville, and partly, that I did not, just 
 then, dare trust my voice to make any objection. 
 
 When we came to the house, he led me into the parlour, 
 and to a chair, and begged to know if I would not have a glass 
 of water. 
 
 'No, my Lord, I thank you,' said I, 'I am perfectly re- 
 covered ' ; and, rising, I walked to the window, where, for 
 some time, I pretended to be occupied in looking at the 
 garden. 
 
 Determined as I was to act honourably by Mr. Macartney, 
 I yet most anxiously wished to be restored to the good opinion 
 of Lord Orville ; but his silence, and the thoughtfulness of his 
 air, discouraged me from speaking. 
 
 My situation soon grew disagreeable and embarrassing, and 
 I resolved to return to my chamber till breakfast was ready. 
 To remain longer, I feared, might seem asking for his inquiries, 
 and I was sure it would ill become me to be more eager to 
 speak than he was to hear. 
 
 Just as I reached the door, turning to me hastily, he said, 
 'Are you going, Miss Anville?' 
 
 ' I am, my Lord,' answered I, yet I stopped. 
 
 ' Perhaps to return to — but I beg your pardon ! ' he spoke 
 with a degree of agitation that made me readily comprehend 
 he meant to the Garden^ and I instantly said, ' To my own 
 room, my Lord.' And again I would have gone ; but, 
 convinced by my answer that I understood him, I believe he 
 
 3 6 3
 
 EVELINA 
 
 was sorry for the insinuation ; he approached me with a very 
 serious air, though, at the same time he forced a smile, and 
 said, ' I know not what evil genius pursues me this morning, 
 but I seem destined to do or to say something I ought not : I 
 am so much ashamed of myself that I can scarce solicit your 
 forgiveness.' 
 
 ' My forgiveness ! my Lord ? ' cried I, abashed, rather than 
 elated by his condescension, ' surely you cannot — you are not 
 serious ? ' 
 
 ' Indeed never more so ; yet if I may be my own interpreter, 
 Miss Anville's countenance pronounces my pardon.' 
 
 ' I know not, my Lord, how any one can pardon who has 
 never been offended.' 
 
 ' You are very good ; yet I could expect no less from a 
 sweetness of disposition which baffles all comparison : will you 
 not think I am an encroacher, and that I take advantage of 
 your goodness, should I once more remind you of the promise 
 you vouchsafed me yesterday ? : 
 
 ' No, indeed ; on the contrary, I shall be very happy to 
 acquit myself in your Lordship's opinion.' 
 
 'Acquittal you need not,' said he, leading me again to the 
 window, ' yet I own my curiosity is strongly excited.' 
 
 When I was seated, I found myself much at a loss what to 
 say ; yet, after a short silence, assuming all the courage in my 
 power, ' Will you not, my Lord,' said I, ' think me trifling and 
 capricious, should I own I have repented the promise I made, 
 and should I entreat your Lordship not to insist upon my strict 
 performance of it ? ' I spoke so hastily that I did not, at the 
 time, consider the impropriety of what I said. 
 
 As he was entirely silent, and profoundly attentive, I 
 continued to speak without interruption. 
 
 ' If your Lordship, by any other means, knew the circum- 
 stances attending my acquaintance with Mr. Macartney, I am 
 most sure you would yourself disapprove my relating them. 
 He is a gentleman, and has been very unfortunate,- — but I am 
 not, I think, at liberty to say more ; yet I am sure, if he 
 knew your Lordship wished to hear any particulars of his 
 affairs, he would readily consent to my acknowledging them ; 
 — shall I, my Lord, ask his permission?' 
 
 ' His affairs ! ' repeated Lord Orville : ' by no means : I 
 have not the least curiosity about them.' 
 
 3 6 4
 
 EVELINA 
 
 ' I beg your Lordship's pardon, but indeed I had under- 
 stood the contrary.' 
 
 ' Is it possible, Madam, you could suppose the affairs of 
 an utter stranger can excite my curiosity ? ' 
 
 The gravity and coldness with which he asked this question, 
 very much abashed me ; but Lord Orville is the most delicate 
 of men, and, presently recollecting himself, he added, ' I mean 
 not to speak with indifference of any friend of yours — far 
 from it ; any such will always command my good wishes : yet 
 I own I am rather disappointed ; and though I doubt not the 
 justice of your reason, to which I implicitly submit, you must 
 not wonder that, when upon the point of being honoured with 
 your confidence, I should feel the greatest regret at finding it 
 withdrawn.' 
 
 Do you think, my dear Sir, I did not, at that moment, 
 require all my resolution to guard me from frankly telling him 
 whatever he wished to hear ? yet I rejoice that I did not ; for, 
 added to the actual wrong I should have done, Lord Orville 
 himself, when he had heard, would, I am sure, have blamed 
 me. Fortunately, this thought occurred to me, and I said, 
 ' Your Lordship shall yourself be my judge ; the promise I 
 made, though voluntary, was rash and inconsiderate, yet, 
 had it concerned myself, I would not have hesitated in ful- 
 filling it ; but the gentleman whose affairs I should be obliged 
 to relate ' 
 
 ' Pardon me,' cried he, ' for interrupting you ; yet allow me 
 to assure you, I have not the slightest desire to be acquainted 
 with his affairs, further than what belongs to the motives 
 which induced you yesterday morning — He stopped ; but 
 
 there was no occasion to say more. 
 
 'That, my Lord,' cried I, 'I will tell you honestly. Mr. 
 Macartney had some particular business with me, — and 1 
 could not take the liberty to ask him hither.' 
 
 'And why not? Mrs. Beaumont, I am sure ' 
 
 ' I could not, my Lord, think of intruding upon Mrs. 
 Beaumont's complaisance ; and so, with the same hasty folly 
 I promised your Lordship, I much more rashly promised to 
 meet him.' 
 
 'And did you ? ' 
 
 ' Xo, my Lord,' said I. colouring, ' I returned before he 
 came.' 
 
 3 6 5
 
 EVELINA 
 
 Again, for some time, we were both silent ; yet, unwilling 
 to leave him to reflections which could not but be to my dis- 
 advantage, I summoned sufficient courage to say, ' There is 
 no young creature, my Lord, who so greatly wants, or so 
 earnestly wishes for, the advice and assistance of her friends 
 as I do ; I am new to the world, and unused to acting for 
 myself — my intentions are never wilfully blameable, yet I err 
 perpetually ! I have, hitherto, been blest with the most 
 affectionate of friends, and, indeed, the ablest of men, to guide 
 and instruct me upon every occasion ; but he is too distant, 
 now, to be applied to at the moment I want his aid, and 
 here — there is not a human being whose counsel I can ask.' 
 
 'Would to Heaven,' cried he, with a countenance from 
 which all coldness and gravity were banished, and succeeded 
 by the mildest benevolence, ' that / were worthy, and capable, 
 of supplying the place of such a friend to Miss Anville ! ' 
 
 'You do me but too much honour,' said I; 'yet I hope 
 your Lordship's candour — perhaps I ought to say indulgence 
 — will make some allowance, on account of my inexperience, 
 for behaviour so inconsiderate : may I, my Lord, hope that 
 you will ? ' 
 
 ' May /,' cried he, ' hope that you will pardon the ill-grace 
 with which I have submitted to my disappointment ? and that 
 you will permit me ' (kissing my hand) ' thus to seal my 
 peace ? ' 
 
 ' Our peace, my Lord,' said I, with revived spirits. 
 
 ' This, then,' said he, again pressing it to his lips, ' for our 
 peace : and now — -are we not friends ? ' 
 
 Just then the door opened, and I had only time to with- 
 draw my hand, before the ladies came in to breakfast. 
 
 I have been, all day, the happiest of human -beings ! — to 
 be thus reconciled to Lord Orville, and yet to adhere to my 
 resolution, — -what could I wish for more ? — he, too, has been 
 very cheerful, and more attentive, more obliging to me than 
 ever. Yet Heaven forbid I should again be in a similar 
 situation, for I cannot express how much uneasiness I have 
 suffered from the fear of incurring his ill opinion. 
 
 But what will poor Mr. Macartney think of me ? happy as 
 I am, I much regret the necessity I have been under of dis- 
 appointing him. 
 
 Adieu, my dearest Sir. 
 
 366
 
 EVELINA 
 LETTER LXVII 
 
 MR. V1LLARS TO EVELINA 
 
 Berry Hill, Sept. 28. 
 
 Dead to the world, and equally insensible to its pleasures 
 or its pains, I long since bid adieu to all joy, and defiance 
 to all sorrow, but what should spring from my Evelina, — 
 sole source, to me, of all earthly felicity. How strange, 
 then, is it, that the letter in which she tells me she is the 
 happiest of human beings, should give me the most mortal 
 inquietude ! 
 
 Alas, my child ! that innocence, the first, best gift of 
 Heaven, should, of all others, be the blindest to its own 
 danger, the most exposed to treachery, and the least able 
 to defend itself, in a world where it is little known, less valued, 
 and perpetually deceived ! 
 
 Would to Heaven you were here ! — then, by degrees, and 
 with gentleness, I might enter upon a subject too delicate for 
 distant discussion. Yet is it too interesting, and the situation 
 too critical, to allow of delay. Oh my Evelina, your situation 
 is critical indeed ! — your peace of mind is at stake, and every 
 chance for your future happiness may depend upon the conduct 
 of the present moment. 
 
 Hitherto I have forborne to speak with you upon the most 
 important of all concerns, the state of your heart : alas, I 
 need no information ! I have been silent, indeed, but I have 
 not been blind. 
 
 Long, and with the deepest regret, have I perceived the 
 ascendancy which Lord Orville has gained upon your mind. 
 You will start at the mention of his name, you will tremble 
 every word you read ; I grieve to give pain to my gentle 
 Evelina, but I dare not any longer spare her. 
 
 Your first meeting with Lord Orville was decisive. Lively, 
 fearless, free from all other impressions, such a man as you 
 describe him could not fail exciting your admiration, and the 
 more dangerously, because he seemed as unconscious of his 
 power as you of your weakness, and therefore you had no 
 alarm either from his vanity or your own prudence. 
 
 367
 
 EVELINA 
 
 Young, animated, entirely off your guard, and thoughtless 
 of consequences, Imagination took the reins, and Reason, 
 slow-paced, though sure-footed, was unequal to a race with so 
 eccentric and nighty a companion. How rapid was then my 
 Evelina's progress through those regions of fancy and passion 
 whither her new guide conducted her ! She saw Lord Orville 
 at a ball — and he was the most amiable of men .' She met 
 him again at another — and he had every virtue under heaven / 
 
 I mean not to depreciate the merit of Lord Orville, who, 
 one mysterious instance alone excepted, seems to have deserved 
 the idea you formed of his character ; but it was not time, it 
 was not the knowledge of his worth, obtained your regard ; 
 your new comrade had not patience to wait any trial ; her 
 glowing pencil, dipped in the vivid colours of her creative 
 ideas, painted to you, at the moment of your first acquaint- 
 ance, all the excellencies, all the good and rare qualities, 
 which a great length of time, and intimacy, could alone have 
 really discovered. 
 
 You flattered yourself that your partiality was the effect 
 of esteem, founded upon a general love of merit and a prin- 
 ciple of justice : and your heart, which felt the sacrifice of 
 your error, was totally gone ere you suspected it was in 
 danger. 
 
 A thousand times have I been upon the point of showing 
 you the perils of your situation, but the same inexperience 
 which occasioned your mistake, I hoped, with the assistance 
 of time and absence, would effect a cure : I was, indeed, most 
 unwilling to destroy your illusion, while 1 dared hope it might 
 itself contribute to the restoration of your tranquillity, since 
 your ignorance of the danger and force of your attachment 
 might possibly prevent that despondency with which young 
 people, in similar circumstances, are apt to persuade them 
 selves that what is only difficult is absolutely impossible. 
 
 But now, since you have again met, and are become more 
 intimate than ever, all my hope from silence and seeming 
 ignorance is at an end. 
 
 Awake, then, my dear, my deluded child, awake to the 
 sense of your danger, and exert yourself to avoid the evils 
 with which it threatens you, — evils which, to a mind like 
 yours, are most to be dreaded — secret repining, and concealed, 
 yet consuming regret ! Make a noble effort for the recovery 
 
 3 68
 
 EVELINA 
 
 of your peace, which now, with sorrow I see it, depends 
 wholly upon the presence of Lord Orville. This effort may, 
 indeed, be painful, but trust to my experience when I assure 
 you it is requisite. 
 
 You must quit him ! his sight is baneful to your repose, 
 his society is death to your future tranquillity ! Believe me, 
 my beloved child, my heart aches for your suffering, while it 
 dictates its necessity. 
 
 Could I natter myself that Lord Orville would, indeed, be 
 sensible of your worth, and act with a nobleness of mind 
 which should prove it congenial to his own, then would I leave 
 my Evelina to the unmolested enjoyment of the cheerful society 
 and increasing regard of a man she so greatly admires : but 
 this is not an age in which we may trust to appearances, and 
 imprudence is much sooner regretted than repaired. Your 
 health, you tell me, is much mended — can you then consent 
 to leave Bristol ? — not abruptly, that I do not desire, but in a 
 few days from the time you receive this ? I will write to 
 Mrs. Selwyn, and tell her how much I wish your return, and 
 Mrs. Clinton can take sufficient care of you. 
 
 I have meditated upon every possible expedient that might 
 tend to your happiness, ere I fixed upon exacting from you 
 a compliance which I am convinced will be most painful to 
 you ; — but I can satisfy myself in none. This will at least be 
 safe, and as to success — we must leave it to time. 
 
 I am very glad to hear of Mr. Macartney's welfare. 
 
 Adieu, my dearest child ; Heaven preserve and strengthen 
 you ! A. V. 
 
 LETTER LXVIII 
 
 EVELINA TO THE REV. MR. VII.LARS 
 
 Clifton, Sept. 28. 
 
 Sweetly, most sweetly, have two days more passed since I 
 wrote ; but I have been too much engaged to be exact in my 
 journal. 
 
 To-day has been less tranquil. It was destined for the 
 decision of the important bet, and has been productive of 
 general confusion throughout the house. It was settled that 
 
 369 2 1;
 
 EVELINA 
 
 the race should be run at five o'clock in the afternoon. Lord 
 Merton breakfasted here, and stayed till noon. He wanted 
 to engage the ladies to bet on his side, in the true spirit of 
 gaming, without seeing the racers. But he could only prevail 
 on Lady Louisa, as Mrs. Selwyn said she never laid a wager 
 against her own wishes, and Mrs. Beaumont would not take 
 sides. As for me, I was not applied to. It is impossible for 
 negligence to be more pointed, than that of Lord Merton to 
 me, in the presence of Lady Louisa. 
 
 But, just before dinner, I happened to be alone in the 
 drawing-room, when his Lordship suddenly returned, and 
 coming in with his usual familiarity, he was beginning, 'You 
 see, Lady Louisa ' but stopping short, ' Pray where's every- 
 body gone ? ' 
 
 ' Indeed I don't know, my Lord.' 
 
 He then shut the door, and, with a great alteration in his 
 face and manner, advanced eagerly towards me, and said, 
 ' How glad I am, my sweet girl, to meet you, at last, alone ! 
 By my soul, I began to think there was a plot against me, for 
 I've never been able to have you a minute to myself.' And, 
 very freely, he seized my hand. 
 
 I was so much surprised at this address, after having been 
 so long totally neglected, that I could make no other answer 
 than staring at him with unfeigned astonishment. 
 
 ' Why now,' continued he, ' if you was not the cruellest 
 little angel in the world, you would have helped me to some 
 expedient : for you see how I am watched here ; Lady Louisa's 
 eyes are never off me. She gives me a charming foretaste of 
 the pleasures of a wife ! however, it won't last long.' 
 
 Disgusted to the greatest degree, I attempted to draw away 
 my hand, but I believe I should not have succeeded, if Mrs. 
 Beaumont had not made her appearance. He turned from 
 me with the greatest assurance, and said, ' How are you, 
 Ma'am? — how is Lady Louisa? — you see I can't live a 
 moment out of the house.' 
 
 Could you, my dearest Sir, have believed it possible for 
 such effrontery to be in man ? 
 
 Before dinner, came Mr. Coverley, and before five o'clock 
 Mr. Lovel and some other company. The place marked out 
 for the race was a gravel-walk in Mrs. Beaumont's garden, 
 and the length of the ground twenty yards. When we were 
 
 37°
 
 EVELINA 
 
 summoned to the course, the two poor old women made their 
 appearance. Though they seemed very healthy for their time 
 of life, they yet looked so weak, so infirm, so feeble, that I 
 could feel no sensation but that of pity at the sight. However, 
 this was not the general sense of the company, for they no 
 sooner came forward than they were greeted with a laugh 
 from every beholder, Lord Orville excepted, who looked very 
 grave during the whole transaction. Doubtless he must be 
 greatly discontented at the dissipated conduct and extravagance 
 of a man with whom he is, soon, to be so nearly connected. 
 
 For some time the scene was truly ridiculous ; the agitation 
 of the parties concerned, and the bets that were laid upon the 
 old women, were absurd beyond measure. Who are you for ? 
 and whose side are you of ? was echoed from mouth to mouth 
 by the whole company. Lord Merton and Mr. Coverley were 
 both so excessively gay and noisy, that I soon found they had 
 been too free in drinking to their success. They handed, with 
 loud shouts, the old women to the race-ground, and encouraged 
 them, by liberal promises, to exert themselves. 
 
 When the signal was given for them to set off, the poor 
 creatures, feeble and frightened, ran against each other, and, 
 neither of them able to support the shock, they both fell on 
 the ground. 
 
 Lord Merton and Mr. Coverley flew to their assistance. 
 Seats were brought for them, and they each drank a glass of 
 wine. They complained of being much bruised ; for, heavy 
 and helpless, they had not been able to save themselves, but 
 fell with their whole weight upon the gravel. However, as 
 they seemed equal sufferers, both parties were too eager to 
 have the affair deferred. 
 
 Again, therefore, they set off, and hobbled along, nearly 
 even with each other, for some time, yet frequently, and to the 
 inexpressible diversion of the company, they stumbled and 
 tottered ; and the confused hallooing of ' Now Covo-Iey / ' 
 1 Now Merton!* rang from side to side during the whole 
 affair. 
 
 Not long after, a foot of one of the poor women slipped, and, 
 with great force, she came again to the ground. Involuntarily, 
 I sprang forward to assist her, but Lord Merton, to whom she 
 did not belong, stopped me, calling out 'No foul play! no 
 foul play ! ' 
 
 37'
 
 EVELINA 
 
 Mr. Coverley then, repeating the same words, went himself 
 to help her, and insisted that the other should stop. A debate 
 ensued ; but the poor creature was too much hurt to move, 
 and declared her utter inability to make another attempt. Mr. 
 Coverley was quite brutal ; he swore at her with unmanly rage, 
 and seemed scarce able to refrain even from striking her. 
 
 Lord Merton then, in great rapture, said it was a hollow 
 thing; but Mr. Coverley contended that the fall was accidental, 
 and time should be allowed for the woman to recover. How- 
 ever, all the company being against him, he was pronounced 
 the loser. 
 
 YYe then went to the drawing-room, to tea. After which, 
 the evening being remarkably warm, we all walked in the 
 garden. Lord Merton was quite riotous, and Lady Louisa in 
 high spirits : but Mr. Coverley endeavoured in vain to conceal 
 his chagrin. 
 
 As Lord Orville was thoughtful, and walked by himself, I 
 expected that, as usual, / should pass unnoticed, and be left to 
 my own meditations ; but this was not the case, for Lord 
 Merton, entirely off his guard, giddy equally from wine and 
 success, was very troublesome to me, and, regardless of the 
 presence of Lady Louisa, which hitherto has restrained him 
 even from common civility, he attached himself to me, during 
 the walk, with a freedom of gallantry that put me extremely 
 out of countenance. He paid me the most high-flown compli- 
 ments, and frequently and forcibly seized my hand, though I 
 repeatedly, and with undissembled anger, drew it back. Lord 
 Orville, I saw, watched us with earnestness, and Lady Louisa's 
 smiles were converted into looks of disdain. 
 
 I could not bear to be thus situated, and complaining I 
 was tired, I quickened my pace with intention to return to 
 the house ; but Lord Merton, hastily following, caught my 
 hand, and saying the day was Ids own, vowed he would not 
 let me go. 
 
 ' You must, my Lord,' cried I, extremely flurried. 
 
 ' You are the most charming girl in the world,' said he, 
 * and never looked better than at this moment.' 
 
 ' My Lord,' cried Mrs. Selwyn, advancing to us, 'you don't 
 consider that the better Miss Anville looks, the more striking 
 is the contrast with your Lordship ; therefore, for your own 
 sake, I would advise you not to hold her.' 
 
 372
 
 
 
 v; 
 
 ^> 
 
 - ' | tfiC ««Ai^ v T« 
 
 £*??£ Merlon caught my handy saying the day was h
 
 EVELINA 
 
 ' Egad, my Lord,' cried Mr. Coverley, ' I don't see what 
 right you have to the best old, and the best young woman too, 
 in the same day.' 
 
 ' Best young woman .' ' repeated Mr. Lovel ; ' 'pon honour, 
 Jack, you have made a most unfortunate speech ; however, if 
 Lady Louisa can pardon you — and her Ladyship is all goodness 
 — I am sure nobody else can, for you have committed an 
 outrageous solecism in good manners.' 
 
 ' And pray, Sir,' said Mrs. Selwyn, ' under what denomina- 
 tion may your own speech pass ? ' 
 
 Mr. Lovel, turning another way, affected not to hear her : 
 and Mr. Coverley, bowing to Lady Louisa, said, ' Her Lady- 
 ship is well acquainted with my devotion, — but, egad, I don't 
 know how it is, I had always an unlucky turn at an epigram, 
 and never could resist a smart play upon words in my life.' 
 
 'Pray, my Lord,' cried I, 'let go my hand! pray, Mrs. 
 Selwyn, speak for me.' 
 
 ' My Lord,' said Mrs. Selwyn, 'in detaining Miss Anville 
 any longer you only lose time, for we are already as well con- 
 vinced of your valour and your strength as if you were to hold 
 her an age.' 
 
 ' My Lord,' said Mrs. Beaumont, ' I must beg leave to 
 interfere ; I know not if Lady Louisa can pardon you, but, as 
 this young Lady is at my house, I do not choose to have her 
 made uneasy.' 
 
 '/ pardon him!' cried Lady Louisa, 'I declare I am 
 monstrous glad to get rid of him ? ' 
 
 ' Egad, my Lord,' cried Mr. Coverley, ' while you are 
 grasping at a shadow, you'll lose a substance ; you'd best make 
 your peace while you can.' 
 
 ' Pray, Mr. Coverley, be quiet,' said Lady Louisa, peevishly, 
 'for I declare I won't speak to him. Brother' (taking hold of 
 Lord Orville's arm), 'will you walk in with me?' 
 
 ' Would to Heaven,' cried I, frightened to see how much 
 Lord Merton was in liquor, ' that I, too, had a brother ! — and 
 then I should not be exposed to such treatment ! ' 
 
 Lord Orville, instantly quitting Lady Louisa, said, ' Will 
 Miss Anville allow me the honour of taking that title ? ' and 
 then, without waiting for any answer, he disengaged me from 
 Lord Merton, and, handing me to Lady Louisa, ' Let me,' 
 added he, ' take equal care of both my sisters ' ; and then, 
 
 374
 
 EVELINA 
 
 desiring her to take hold of one arm, and begging me to make 
 use of the other, we reached the house in a moment. Lord 
 Merton, disordered as he was, attempted not to stop us. 
 
 As soon as we entered the house, I withdrew my arm, and 
 curtsied my thanks, for my heart was too full for speech. 
 Lady Louisa, evidently hurt at her brother's condescension, and 
 piqued extremely by Lord Merton 's behaviour, silently drew 
 away Iter's, and biting her lips, with a look of infinite vexation, 
 walked sullenly up the hall. 
 
 Lord Orville asked her if she would not go into the parlour. 
 
 ' No,' answered she, haughtily ; ' I leave you and your new- 
 sister together' : and then she walked upstairs. 
 
 I was quite confounded at the pride and rudeness of this 
 speech. Lord Orville himself seemed thunderstruck ; I turned 
 from him, and went into the parlour ; he followed me, saying, 
 ' Must I, now, apologise to Miss Anville for the liberty of my 
 interference ? — or ought I to apologise that I did not, as I 
 wished, interfere sooner ? ' 
 
 ' O my Lord,' cried I, with an emotion I could not repress, 
 ' it is from you alone I meet with any respect — all others treat 
 me with impertinence or contempt ! ' 
 
 I am sorry I had not more command of myself, as he had 
 reason, just then, to suppose I particularly meant his sister, 
 which, I am sure, must very much hurt him. 
 
 ' Good Heaven,' cried he, ' that so much sweetness and 
 merit can fail to excite the love and admiration so justly their 
 due ! I cannot, I dare not express to you half the indignation 
 I feel at this moment ! ' 
 
 ' I am sorry, my Lord,' said I, more calmly, 'to have raised 
 it ; but yet, in a situation that calls for protection, to meet 
 only with mortifications — indeed I am but ill formed to bear 
 them ! ' 
 
 ' My dear Miss Anville,' cried he warmly, 'allow me to be 
 your friend ; think of me as if I were indeed your brother, 
 and let me entreat you to accept my best services, if there is 
 anything in which I can be so happy as to show my regard 
 my respect for you ! ' 
 
 Before I had time to speak, the rest of the party entered 
 the parlour, and, as I did not wish to see anything more of 
 Lord Merton, at least before he had slept, I determined to 
 leave it. Lord Orville, seeing my design, said, as I passed 
 
 375
 
 EVELINA 
 
 him, 'Will you go?' 'Had not I best, my Lord?' said I. 
 ' I am afraid,' said he, smiling, ' since I must now speak as 
 your brother, I am afraid you had; you see you may trust 
 me, since I can advise against my own interest.' 
 
 I then left the room, and have been writing ever since. 
 And methinks I can never lament the rudeness of Lord Merton, 
 as it has more than ever confirmed to me the esteem of Lord 
 Orville. 
 
 LETTER LXIX 
 
 EVELINA IX CONTINUATION 
 
 Sept. 30. 
 
 Oh Sir, what a strange incident have I to recite ! what a 
 field of conjecture to open ! 
 
 Yesterday evening, we all went to an assembly. Lord 
 Orville presented tickets to the whole family, and did me the 
 honour, to the no small surprise of all here, I believe, to dance 
 with me. But every day abounds in fresh instances of his 
 condescending politeness, and he now takes every opportunity 
 of calling me his friend, and his sister. 
 
 Lord Merton offered a ticket to Lady Louisa, but she was 
 so much incensed against him that she refused it with the 
 utmost disdain ; neither could he prevail upon her to dance 
 with him ; she sat still the whole evening, and deigned not to 
 look at, or speak to him. To me, her behaviour is almost 
 the same, for she is cold, distant, and haughty, and her eyes 
 express the greatest contempt. But for Lord Orville, how 
 miserable would my residence here make me ! 
 
 We were joined, in the ball-room, by Mr. Coverley, Mr. 
 Lovel, and Lord Merton, who looked as if he was doing 
 penance, and sat all the evening next to Lady Louisa, vainly 
 endeavouring to appease her anger. 
 
 Lord Orville began the minuets ; he danced with a young 
 lady who seemed to engage the general attention, as she had 
 not been seen here before. She is pretty, and looks mild and 
 yood-humoured. 
 
 'Pray, Mr. Lovel,' said Lady Louisa, 'who is that?' 
 
 3/6
 
 EVELINA 
 
 ' Miss Belmont,' answered he, ' the young heiress ; she 
 came to the Wells yesterday.' 
 
 Struck with the name, I involuntarily repeated it, but 
 nobody heard me. 
 
 ' What is her family ?' said Mrs. Beaumont. 
 
 ' Have you not heard of her, Ma'am ? ' cried he, ' she is only 
 daughter and heiress of Sir John Belmont.' 
 
 Good Heaven, how did I start ! the name struck my ear 
 like a thunderbolt. Mrs. Selwyn, who immediately looked at 
 me, said ' Be calm, my dear, and we will learn the truth of 
 all this.' 
 
 Till then, I had never imagined her to be acquainted with 
 my story ; but she has since told me that she knew my 
 unhappy mother, and was well informed of the whole affair. 
 
 She asked Mr. Lovel a multitude of questions, and I gathered 
 from his answers that this young lady was just come from 
 abroad with Sir John Belmont, who was now in London ; that 
 she was under the care of his sister, Mrs. Paterson ; and that 
 she would inherit a considerable estate. 
 
 I cannot express the strange feelings with which I was 
 agitated during this recital. What, my dearest Sir, can it 
 possibly mean ? Did you ever hear of any after-marriage ? — 
 or must I suppose that, while the lawful child is rejected, 
 another is adopted ? I know not what to think ! 1 am 
 bewildered with a contrariety of ideas ! 
 
 When we came home, Mrs. Selwyn passed more than an 
 hour in my room, conversing upon this subject. She says that 
 I ought instantly to go to town, find out my father, and have 
 the affair cleared up. She assures me I have too strong a 
 resemblance to my dear, though unknown mother, to allow of 
 the least hesitation in my being owned, when once I am seen. 
 For my part, I have no wish but to act by your direction. 
 
 I cannot give any account of the evening ; so disturbed, so 
 occupied am I by this subject, that I can think of no other. I 
 have entreated Mrs. Selwyn to observe the strictest secrecy, 
 and she has promised that she will. Indeed, she has too much 
 sense to be idly communicative. 
 
 Lord Orville took notice of my being absent and silent, but 
 I ventured not to entrust him with the cause. Fortunately, he 
 was not of the party at the time Mr. Lovel made the discovery. 
 
 Mrs. Selwyn says, that if you approve my going to town, 
 
 377
 
 EVELINA 
 
 she will herself accompany me. I had a thousand times rather 
 ask the protection of Mrs. Mirvan ; but, after this offer, that 
 will not be possible. 
 
 Adieu, my dearest Sir. I am sure you will write immediately, 
 and I shall be all impatience till your letter arrives. 
 
 LETTER LXX 
 
 EVELINA IX CONTINUATION 
 
 Oct. 1. 
 
 Good God, my dear Sir, what a wonderful tale have I again 
 to relate ! even yet, I am not recovered from my extreme 
 surprise. 
 
 Yesterday morning, as soon as I had finished my hasty 
 letter, I was summoned to attend a walking party to the Hot- 
 wells. It consisted only of Mrs. Selwyn and Lord Orville. 
 The latter walked by my side all the way; and his conversation 
 dissipated my uneasiness, and insensibly restored my serenity. 
 
 At the pump-room, I saw Mr. Macartney ; I curtsied to 
 him twice ere he would speak to me. When he did, I began 
 to apologise for having disappointed him ; but I did not find it 
 very easy to excuse myself, as Lord Orville's eyes, with an 
 expression of anxiety that distressed me, turned from him to 
 me, and me to him, every word I spoke. Convinced, however, 
 that I had really trifled with Mr. Macartney, I scrupled not to 
 beg his pardon. He was then not merely appeased, but even 
 grateful. 
 
 He requested me to see him to-morrow : but I had not the 
 folly to be again guilty of an indiscretion which had, already, 
 caused me so much uneasiness ; and therefore I told him, 
 frankly, that it was not in my power, at present, to see him, 
 but by accident ; and, to prevent his being offended, I hinted 
 to him the reason I could not receive him as I wished to do. 
 
 When I had satisfied both him and myself upon this 
 subject, I turned to Lord Orville, and saw, with concern, the 
 gravity of his countenance ; I would have spoken to him, but 
 knew not how : I believe, however, he read my thoughts, for, 
 
 373
 
 EVELINA 
 
 in a little time, with a sort of serious smile, he said, ' Does 
 not Mr. Macartney complain of his disappointment ? ' 
 
 ■ Not much, my Lord.' 
 
 'And how have you appeased him?' Finding I hesitated 
 what to answer, ' Am I not your brother,' continued he, ' and 
 must I not inquire into your affairs ? ' 
 
 'Certainly, my Lord,' said I, laughing, ' I only wish it weie 
 better worth your Lordship's while.' 
 
 ' Let me, then, make immediate use of my privilege. 
 When shall you see Mr. Macartney again?' 
 
 ' Indeed, my Lord, I can't tell.' 
 
 ' But, — do you know that I shall not suffer my sister to 
 make a private appointment ? ' 
 
 'Pray, my Lord,' cried I, earnestly, 'use that word no 
 more ! Indeed you shock me extremely.' 
 
 ' That would I not do for the world,' cried he ; ' yet you 
 know not how warmly, how deeply I am interested, not only 
 in all your concerns, but in all your actions.' 
 
 This speech, the most particular one Lord Orville had 
 ever made to me, ended our conversation at that time, for I 
 was too much struck by it to make any answer. 
 
 Soon after, Mr. Macartney, in a low voice, entreated me 
 not to deny him the gratification of returning the money. 
 While he was speaking, the young lady I saw yesterday at 
 the assembly, with the large party, entered the pump-room. 
 Mr. Macartney turned as pale as death, his voice faltered, and 
 he seemed not to know what he said. I was myself almost 
 equally disturbed, by the crowd of confused ideas that occurred 
 to me. Good Heaven, thought I, why should he be thus 
 agitated ? — is it possible this can be the young lady he loved ? 
 
 In a few minutes, we quitted the pump-room, and though 
 I twice wished Mr. Macartney good morning, he was so 
 absent he did not hear me. 
 
 We did not immediately return to Clifton, as Mrs. Selwyn 
 had business at a pamphlet-shop. While she was looking at 
 some new poems, Lord Orville again asked me when I should 
 see Mr. Macartney. 
 
 ' Indeed, my Lord,' cried 1, ' I know not, but I would give 
 the universe for a few moments conversation with him!' I 
 spoke this with a simple sincerity, and was not aware of the 
 force of my own words. 
 
 379
 
 J^UUSUi^-lA^. 
 
 If* 
 
 The young lady entered the pump-room.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 'The universe!' repeated he, 'Good God, Miss Anville, 
 do you say this to vie f ' 
 
 1 I would say it,' returned I, 'to anybody, my Lord.' 
 
 ■ I beg your pardon,' said he, in a voice that showed him 
 ill pleased ; ' I am answered ! ' 
 
 'My Lord,' cried I, 'you must not judge hardly of me. I 
 spoke inadvertently ; but if you knew the painful suspense 
 I suffer at this moment, you would not be surprised at what 
 I have said.' 
 
 'And would a meeting with Air. Macartney relieve you 
 from that suspense ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, my Lord, two words might be sufficient.' 
 
 ' Would to Heaven,' cried he, after a short pause, ' that I 
 were worthy to know their import ! ' 
 
 ' Worthy, my Lord 1 O, if that were all, your Lordship 
 could ask nothing I should not be ready to answer ! If I 
 were but at liberty to speak, I should be proud of your Lord- 
 ship's inquiries ; but indeed I am not, I have not any right to 
 communicate the affairs of Mr. Macartney- -your Lordship 
 cannot suppose I have.' 
 
 ' I will own to you,' answered he, ' I know not what to 
 suppose ; yet there seems a frankness even in your mystery, 
 and such an air of openness in your countenance, that I am 
 
 willing to hope ' He stopped a moment, and then added, 
 
 ' This meeting, you say, is essential to your repose ? ' 
 
 ' I did not say that, my Lord, but yet I have the most 
 important reasons for wishing to speak to him.' 
 
 He paused a few minutes, and then said, with warmth, 
 'Yes, you shall speak to him! — I will myself assist you! 
 Miss Anville, I am sure, cannot form a wish against propriety ; 
 I will ask no questions, I will rely upon her own purity, and 
 uninformed, blindfold as I am, I will serve her with all my 
 power ! ' And then he went into the shop, leaving me so 
 strangely affected by his generous behaviour, that I almost 
 wished to follow him with my thanks. 
 
 When Mrs. Selwyn had transacted her affairs, we returned 
 home. 
 
 The moment dinner was over, Lord Orville went out. and 
 
 did not come back till just as we were summoned to supper. 
 
 This is the longest time he has spent from the house since I 
 
 have been at Clifton, and you cannot imagine, my dear Sir, 
 
 ' *8l
 
 EVELINA 
 
 how much I missed him. I scarce knew before how infinitely 
 I am indebted to him alone for the happiness I have enjoyed 
 since I have been at Mrs. Beaumont's. 
 
 As I generally go downstairs last, he came to me the 
 moment the ladies had passed by, and said, ' Shall you be at 
 home to-morrow morning ? ' 
 
 ' I believe so, my Lord.' 
 
 ' And will you, then, receive a visitor for me ? ' 
 
 ' For you, my Lord ? ' 
 
 'Yes; — I have made acquaintance with Mr. Macartney, 
 and he has promised to call upon me to-morrow about three 
 o'clock.' 
 
 And then, taking my hand, he led me downstairs. 
 
 O Sir ! — was there ever such another man as Lord Orville ! 
 Yes, one other now resides at Berry Hill ! 
 
 This morning there has been a great deal of company here, 
 but at the time appointed by Lord Orville, doubtless with that 
 consideration, the parlour is almost always empty, as every- 
 body is dressing. 
 
 Mrs. Beaumont, however, was not gone upstairs, when Mr. 
 Macartney sent in his name. 
 
 Lord Orville immediately said, ' Beg the favour of him to 
 walk in. You see, Madam, that I consider myself as at 
 home.' 
 
 ' I hope so,' answered Mrs. Beaumont, ' or I should be 
 very uneasy.' 
 
 Mr. Macartney then entered. I believe we both felt very 
 conscious to whom the visit was paid : but Lord Orville 
 received him as his own guest, and not merely entertained 
 him as such while Mrs. Beaumont remained in the room, but 
 for some time after she had left it : a delicacy that saved me 
 from the embarrassment I should have felt, had he immediately 
 quitted us. 
 
 In a few minutes, however, he gave Mr. Macartney a book, 
 — for I, too, by way of pretence for continuing in the room, 
 pretended to be reading, — and begged he would be so good 
 as to look it over, while he answered a note, which he would 
 dispatch in a few minutes, and return to him. 
 
 When he was gone, we both parted with our books, and 
 Mr. Macartney, again producing the paper with the money, 
 besought me to accept it. 
 
 *82
 
 EVELINA 
 
 'Pray,' said I, still declining it, 'did you know the young 
 lady who came into the pump-room yesterday morning ? ' 
 
 ' Know her I ' repeated he, changing colour, ' oh, but too 
 well ! ' 
 
 ' Indeed ! ' 
 
 ' Why, .Madam, do you ask ? ; 
 
 ' I must beseech you to satisfy me further upon this subject ; 
 pray tell me who she is.' 
 
 ' Inviolably as I meant to keep my secret, I can refuse you, 
 Madam, nothing ; — that lady — is the daughter of Sir John 
 Belmont ! — of my father ! ' 
 
 'Gracious Heaven!' cried I, involuntarily laying my hand 
 
 on his arm, ' you are then ' my brother, I would have said, 
 
 but my voice failed me, and I burst into tears. 
 
 'Oh, Madam,' cried he. 'what does this mean? What 
 can thus distress you ? ' 
 
 I could not answer, but held out my hand to him. He 
 seemed greatly surprised, and talked in high terms of my 
 condescension. 
 
 ' Spare yourself,' cried I, wiping my eyes, ' spare yourself 
 this mistake, — you have a right to all I can do for you ; the 
 similarity of our circumstances ' 
 
 We were then interrupted by the entrance of Mrs. Selvvyn ; 
 and Mr. Macartney, finding no probability of our being left 
 alone, was obliged to take leave, though, I believe, very 
 reluctantly, while in such suspense. 
 
 Mrs. Selwyn then, by dint of interrogatories, drew from me 
 the state of this affair. She is so penetrating, that there is no 
 possibility of evading to give her satisfaction. 
 
 Is not this a strange event ? Good Heaven, how little did 
 I think that the visits I so unwillingly paid at Mr. Branghton's 
 would have introduced me to so near a relation ! I will never 
 again regret the time I spent in town this summer : a circum- 
 stance so fortunate will always make me think of it with 
 pleasure. 
 
 I have just received your letter, — and it has almost broken 
 my heart ! Oh, Sir ! the illusion is over indeed ! How vainly 
 have I flattered, how miserably deceived myself! Long since, 
 doubtful of the situation of my heart, I dreaded a scrutiny, — 
 but now, now that I have so long escaped, I began, indeed, 
 
 383
 
 EVELINA 
 
 to think my safety insured, to hope that my fears were cause- 
 less, and to believe that my good opinion and esteem of Lord 
 Orville might be owned without suspicion, and felt without 
 danger : miserably deceived, indeed ! 
 
 His sigJit is baneful to my repose, — his society is death to 
 my future tranquillity ! Oh, Lord Orville! could I have believed 
 that a friendship so grateful to my heart, so soothing to my 
 distress — a friendship which, in every respect, did me so 
 much honour, would only serve to embitter all my future 
 moments ! What a strange, what an unhappy circumstance, 
 that my gratitude, though so justly excited, should be so fatal 
 to my peace ! 
 
 Yes, Sir, I will quit him ; — would to Heaven I could at 
 at this moment ! without seeing him again — without trusting 
 to my now conscious emotion ! Oh, Lord Orville, how little 
 do you know the evils I owe to you ! how little suppose that, 
 when most dignified by your attention, I was most to be 
 pitied, — and when most exalted by your notice, you were most 
 my enemy ! 
 
 You, Sir, relied upon my ignorance — I, alas, upon your 
 experience ; and, whenever I doubted the weakness of my 
 heart, the idea that you did not suspect it, reassured me, — 
 restored my courage, and confirmed my error ! Yet am I 
 most sensible of the kindness of your silence. 
 
 Oh, Sir ! why have I ever quitted you ? why been exposed 
 to dangers to which I am so unequal ? 
 
 But I will leave this place, — leave Lord Orville, — leave 
 him, perhaps, for ever! — no matter; your counsel, your 
 goodness, may teach me how to recover the peace and the 
 serenity of which my unguarded folly has beguiled me. To 
 you alone do I trust, — in you alone confide for every future 
 hope I may form. 
 
 The more I consider of parting with Lord Orville, the less 
 fortitude do I feel to bear the separation ; — the friendship he 
 has shown me, — his politeness, — his sweetness of manners, — 
 his concern in my affairs, — his solicitude to oblige me, — all, 
 all to be given up ! 
 
 Xo, I cannot tell him I am going, — I dare not trust myself 
 to take leave of him, — I will run away without seeing him : 
 implicitly will I follow your advice, avoid his sight, and shim 
 his society ! 
 
 384
 
 EVELINA 
 
 To-morrow morning I will set off for Berry Hill. Mrs. 
 Selwyn and Mrs. Beaumont shall alone know my intention. 
 And to-day, — I will spend in my own room. The readiness 
 of my obedience is the only atonement I can offer for the 
 weakness which calls for its exertion. 
 
 Can you. will you, most honoured, most dear Sir ! sole 
 prop by which the poor Evelina is supported, — can you, with- 
 out reproach, without displeasure, receive the child you have 
 so carefully reared, — from whose education better fruit might 
 have been expected, and who, blushing for her unworthiness, 
 fears to meet the eye by which she has been cherished ? Oh 
 yes, I am sure you will ! Your Evelina's errors are those of 
 the judgment, — and you, I well know, pardon all but those of 
 the heart ! 
 
 LETTER LXXI 
 
 EVELINA IN CONTINUATION 
 
 Clifton, October i. 
 
 I have only time, my dearest Sir, for three words, to over- 
 take my last letter, and prevent your expecting me immediately ; 
 for when I communicated myintention to Mrs. Selwyn, she would 
 not hear of it, and declared it would be highly ridiculous for 
 me to go before I received an answer to my intelligence con- 
 cerning the journey from Paris. She has, therefore, insisted 
 upon my waiting till your next letter arrives. I hope you will 
 not be displeased at my compliance, though it is rather against 
 my own judgment ; but Mrs. Selwyn quite overpowered me 
 with the force of her arguments. I will, however, see very 
 little of Lord Orville ; I will never come downstairs before 
 breakfa-t : give up all my walks in the garden, — seat myself 
 next to Mrs. Selwyn, and not merely avoid his conversation, 
 but shun his presence. I will exert all the prudence and all 
 the resolution in my power, to prevent this short delay from 
 giving you any further uneasiness. 
 
 Adieu, my dearest Sir. I shall not now leave Clifton till I 
 have your directions. 
 
 3 8 5 2 c
 
 EVELINA 
 LETTER LXXII 
 
 EVELINA IN CONTINUATION 
 
 October 2. 
 
 Yesterday, from the time I received your kind, though 
 heart -piercing letter, I kept my room, — for I was equally 
 unable and unwilling to see Lord Orville : but this morning, 
 finding I seemed destined to pass a few days longer here, I 
 endeavoured to calm my spirits, and to appear as usual ; 
 though I determined to avoid him to the utmost of my power. 
 Indeed, as I entered the parlour, when called to breakfast, my 
 thoughts were so much occupied with your letter, that I felt 
 as much confusion at his sight, as if he had himself been 
 informed of its contents. 
 
 .Mrs. Beaumont made me a slight compliment upon my 
 recovery, for I had pleaded illness to excuse keeping my room : 
 Lady Louisa spoke not a word : but Lord Orville, little 
 imagining himself the cause of my indisposition, inquired 
 concerning my health with the most distinguishing politeness. 
 I hardly made any answer, and, for the first time since I have 
 been here, contrived to sit at some distance from him. 
 
 I could not help observing that my reserve surprised him ; 
 yet he persisted in his civilities, and seemed to wish to remove 
 it. But I paid him very little attention ; and the moment 
 breakfast was over, instead of taking a book, or walking in the 
 garden, I retired to my own room. 
 
 Soon after, Mrs. Selwyn came to tell me that Lord Orville 
 had been proposing I should take an airing, and persuading 
 her to let him drive us both in his phaeton. She delivered 
 the message with an archness that made me blush ; and added, 
 that an airing, in my Lord OrviY/e's carriage, could not fail to 
 revive my spirits. There is no possibility of escaping her 
 discernment ; she has frequently rallied me upon his Lordship's 
 attention, — and, alas ! — upon the pleasure with which I have 
 received it ! However, I absolutely refused the offer. 
 
 ' Well,' said she, laughing, ' I cannot just now indulge you 
 with any solicitation : for, to tell you the truth, I have business 
 to transact at the Wells, and am glad to be excused myself. 
 
 ?86
 
 EVELINA 
 
 I would ask you to walk with me, — but, since Lord Orville is 
 refused, / have not the presumption to hope for success.' 
 
 ' Indeed,' cried I, ' you are mistaken ; I will attend you 
 with pleasure.' 
 
 ' O rare coquetry ! ' cried she, ' surely it must be inherent 
 in our sex, or it could not have been imbibed at Berry Hill.' 
 
 I had not spirits to answer her, and therefore put on my 
 hat and cloak in silence. 
 
 ' I presume,' continued she drily, ' his Lordship may walk 
 with us ? ' 
 
 ' If so, Madam,' said I, ' you will have a companion, and I 
 will stay at home.' 
 
 ' My clear child,' cried she, ' did you bring the certificate of 
 your birth with you ? ' 
 
 ' Dear Madam, no ! ' 
 
 ' Why then, we shall never be known again at Berry Hill.' 
 
 I felt too conscious to enjoy her pleasantry ; but I believe 
 she was determined to torment me ; for she asked if she should 
 inform Lord Orville that I desired him not to be of the 
 party ? 
 
 ' By no means, Madam ; — but, indeed, I had rather not 
 walk myself 
 
 ' My dear,' cried she, ' I really do not know you this 
 morning, — you have certainly been taking a lesson of Lady 
 Louisa.' 
 
 She then went downstairs ; but presently returning, told 
 me she had acquainted Lord Orville that I did not choose to 
 go out in the phaeton, but preferred a walk, tete-a-tite with 
 her, by way of variety. 
 
 I said nothing, but was really vexed. She bid me go 
 downstairs, and said she would follow immediately. 
 
 Lord Orville met me in the hall. ' I fear,' said he, ' Miss 
 Anville is not yet quite well?' and he would have taken my 
 hand, but I turned from him, and curtsying slightly, went 
 into the parlour. 
 
 Mrs. Beaumont and Lady Louis, i were at work: Lord 
 Merton was talking with the latter ; for he has now made his 
 peace, and is again received into favour. 
 
 I seated myself, as usual, by the window. Lord Orville, in 
 a few minutes, came to me, and said, 'Why is Miss Anville so 
 grave ? ' 
 
 387
 
 EVELINA 
 
 ' Not grave, my Lord,' said I, ' only stupid ' ; and I took 
 up a book. 
 
 ' You will go,' said he, after a short pause, ' to the assembly 
 to-night ? ' 
 
 ' No, my Lord, certainly not.' 
 
 ' Neither then will I ; for I should be sorry to sully the 
 remembrance I have of the happiness I enjoyed at the last.' 
 
 Mrs. Selwyn then coming in, general inquiries were made, 
 to all but me, of who would go to the assembly. Lord Orville 
 instantly declared he had letters to write at home ; but every 
 one else settled to go. 
 
 I then hastened Mrs. Selwyn away, though not before she 
 had said to Lord Orville, ' Pray, has your Lordship obtained 
 Miss Anville's leave to favour us with your company?' 
 
 ' I have not, Madam,' answered he, ' had the vanity to 
 ask it.' 
 
 During our walk, Mrs. Selwyn tormented me unmercifully. 
 She told me, that since I declined any addition to our party, I 
 must, doubtless, be conscious of my own powers of entertain- 
 ment ; and begged me, therefore, to exert them freely. I 
 repented a thousand times having consented to walk alone 
 with her : for though I made the most painful efforts to appear 
 in spirits, her raillery quite overpowered me. 
 
 We went first to the pump-room. It was full of company ! 
 and the moment we entered, I heard a murmuring of, ' Tliat's 
 she / ' and, to my great confusion, I saw every eye turned 
 towards me. I pulled my hat over my face, and, by the 
 assistance of Mrs. Selwyn, endeavoured to screen myself from 
 observation : nevertheless, I found I was so much the object 
 of general attention, that I entreated her to hasten away. But 
 unfortunately, she had entered into conversation, very earnestly, 
 with a gentleman of her acquaintance, and would not listen to 
 me, but said, that if I was tired of waiting, I might walk on to 
 the milliner's with the Miss YVatkins, two young ladies I had 
 seen at Mrs. Beaumont's, who were going thither. 
 
 I accepted the offer very readily, and away we went. But 
 we had not gone three yards, before we were followed by a 
 party of young men, who took every possible opportunity of 
 looking at us, and, as they walked behind, talked aloud, in a 
 manner at once unintelligible and absurd. ' Yes,' cried one, 
 ' 'tis certainly she ! — mark but her blushing cheek ! '
 
 -v- 
 
 Folio-- • of young men 
 
 •J |q.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 And then her eye — her downcast eye / ' cried another. 
 ' True, oh most true," said a third, ' every beauty is her 
 
 ' But then,' said the first, ' her mind, — now the difficulty is, 
 to find out the truth of that, for she will not say a word.' 
 
 ' She is timidj answered another ; ' mark but her timid 
 air? 
 
 During this conversation, we walked on silent and quick ; 
 as we knew not to whom it was particularly addressed, we 
 were all equally ashamed, and equally desirous to avoid such 
 unaccountable observations. 
 
 Soon after, we were caught in a shower of rain. We 
 hurried on, and these gentlemen, following us, offered their 
 services in the most pressing manner, begging us to make use 
 of their arms ; and while I almost ran, in order to avoid their 
 impertinence, I was suddenly met by Sir Clement Willoughby ! 
 
 We both started. ' Good God,' he exclaimed, ' Miss 
 Anville ! ' and then, regarding my tormentors with an air of 
 displeasure, he earnestly inquired, if anything had alarmed me ? 
 
 ' No, no,' cried I ; for I found no difficulty now to dis- 
 engage myself from these youths, who, probably concluding 
 from the commanding air of Sir Clement that he had a right 
 to protect me, quietly gave way to him, and entirely quitted us. 
 
 With his usual impetuosity, he then began a thousand 
 inquiries, accompanied with as many compliments ; and he 
 told me that he arrived at Bristol but this morning, which he 
 had entirely devoted to endeavours to discover where I lodged. 
 
 ' Did you know, then,' said I, 'that I was at Bristol ? ' 
 
 ' Would to Heaven,' cried he, ' that I could remain in 
 ignorance of your proceedings with the same contentment you 
 do of mine ! then should I not for ever journey upon the wings 
 of hope, to meet my own despair ! You cannot even judge of 
 the cruelty of my fate, for the ease and serenity of your mind 
 incapacitates you from feeling for the agitation of mine ! ' 
 
 The ease and serenity of my mind ! alas, how little do I 
 merit those words ! 
 
 ' But,' added he, ' had accident brought me hither, had I 
 not known of your journey, the voice of fame would have 
 proclaimed it to me instantly upon my arrival.' 
 
 ' The voice of fame ! ' repeated I. 
 
 ' Yes, for yours was the first name I heard at the pump- 
 
 39°
 
 EVELINA 
 
 room. But had I not heard your name, such a description 
 could have painted no one else.' 
 
 'Indeed,' said I. 'I do not understand you.' Rut, just 
 then arriving at the milliner's, our conversation ended ; for 
 Miss Watkins called me to look at caps and ribbons. 
 
 Sir Clement, however, has the art of being always at home ; 
 he was very soon engaged, as busily as ourselves, in looking 
 at lace ruffles. Yet he took an opportunity of saying to me in 
 a low voice, ' How charmed I am to see you look so well ! I 
 was told you were ill, — but I never saw you in better health, 
 — never more infinitely lovely ! ' 
 
 I turned away, to examine the ribbons, and soon after Mrs. 
 Selwyn made her appearance. I found that she was acquainted 
 with Sir Clement, and her manner of speaking to him con- 
 vinced me that he was a favourite with her. 
 
 When their mutual compliments were over, she turned to 
 me, and said, ' Pray, Miss Anville, how long can you live 
 without nourishment ?' 
 
 ' Indeed, Ma'am,' said I, laughing, ' I have never tried.' 
 
 ' Because so long, and no longer,' answered she, ' you may 
 remain at Bristol.' 
 
 ' Why, what is the matter, Ma'am ? ' 
 
 ' The matter ! — why, all the ladies are at open war with 
 you, — the whole pump-room is in confusion ; and you, inno- 
 cent as you pretend to look, are the cause. However, if you 
 take my advice, you will be very careful how you eat and drink 
 during your stay.' 
 
 I begged her to explain herself : and she then told me, that 
 a copy of verses had been dropped in the pump-room, and read 
 there aloud: 'The Beauties of the Wells,' said she, 'are all 
 mentioned, but you are the Venus to whom the prize is given.' 
 
 'Is it then possible,' cried Sir Clement, 'that you have not 
 seen these verses ? ' 
 
 ' I hardly know,' answered I, 'whether anybody has.' 
 
 •I assure you,' said Mrs. Selwyn, 'if you give me the 
 invention of them, you do me an honour I by no means 
 deserve.' 
 
 ' I wrote down in my tablets,' said Sir Clement, 'the stanzas 
 which concern Miss Anville, this morning at the pump-room : 
 and I will do myself the honour of copying them for her this 
 evening.' 
 
 39 1
 
 A copy of verses had been dropped in the pump-room.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 ' But why the part that concerns Miss Anville?* said Mrs. 
 Selwyn ; ' did you ever see her before this morning ? ' 
 
 ' O yes,' answered he, ' I have had that happiness frequently 
 at Captain Mirvan's. Too, too frequently!' added he, in a 
 low voice, as Mrs. Selwyn turned to the milliner : and, as 
 soon as she was occupied in examining some trimmings, he 
 came to me, and, almost whether I would or not, entered into 
 conversation with me. 
 
 ' I have a thousand things,' cried he, ' to say to you. Pray 
 where are you ? ' 
 
 'With Mrs. Selwyn, Sir.' 
 
 ' Indeed — then, for once, Chance is my friend. And how 
 long have you been here ? ' 
 
 'About three weeks.' 
 
 ' Good Heaven ! what an anxious search have I had, to 
 discover your abode, since you so suddenly left town ! The 
 termagant Madame Duval refused me all intelligence. Oh, 
 Miss Anville, did you know what I have endured ! the sleep- 
 less, restless state of suspense I have been tortured with, you 
 could not, all cruel as you are, you could not have received 
 me with such frigid indifference ! ' 
 
 ' Received you, Sir ! ' 
 
 ' Why, is not my visit to you ? Do you think I should 
 have made this journey, but for the happiness of again seeing 
 you ? ' 
 
 ' Indeed it is possible I might, — since so many others do.' 
 
 ' Cruel, cruel girl ! you know that I adore you ! you know 
 you are the mistress of my soul, and arbitress of my fate ! ' 
 
 Mrs. Selwyn then advancing to us, he assumed a more 
 disengaged air, and asked if he should not have the pleasure 
 of seeing her in the evening, at the assembly ? 
 
 'O yes,' cried she, 'we shall certainly be there; so you 
 may bring the verses with you, if Miss Anville can wait for 
 them so long.' 
 
 ' I hope, then,' returned lie, ' that you will do me the honour 
 to dance with me ? ' 
 
 I thanked him, but said I should not be at the assembly. 
 
 ' Not be at the assembly ! ' cried Mrs. Selwyn. ' Why, have 
 you too letters to write ?' 
 
 She looked at me with a significant archness that made me 
 colour; and I hastily answered, 'No, indeed. Ma'am!' 
 
 393
 
 EVELINA 
 
 'You have not !' cried she, yet more drily, 'then pray, my 
 dear, do you stay at home to help, — or to /tinder others ? ' 
 
 'To do neither, Ma'am,' answered I, in much confusion; 
 'so, if you please, T will not stay at home.' 
 
 'You allow me, then,' said Sir Clement, 'to hope for the 
 honour of your hand ? ' 
 
 I only bowed, — for the dread of Mrs. Selwyn's raillery made 
 me not dare refuse him. 
 
 Soon after this we walked home ; Sir Clement accompanied 
 us, and the conversation that passed between Mrs. Selwyn and 
 him was supported in so lively a manner that I should have 
 been much entertained, had my mind been more at ease : but 
 alas ! I could think of nothing but the capricious, the unmeaning 
 appearance which the alteration in my conduct must make in 
 the eyes of Lord Orville. And, much as I wish to avoid him, 
 greatly as I desire to save myself from having my weakness 
 known to him, — yet I cannot endure to incur his ill opinion,- — 
 and, unacqainted as he is with the reasons by which I am 
 actuated, how can he fail contemning a change to him so 
 unaccountable ? 
 
 As we entered the garden, he was the first object we saw. 
 He advanced to meet us, and I could not help observing 
 that at sight of each other both he and Sir Clement changed 
 colour. 
 
 We went into the parlour, where we found the same party 
 we had left. Mrs. Selwyn presented Sir Clement to Mrs. 
 Beaumont ; Lady Louisa and Lord Merton he seemed well 
 acquainted with already. 
 
 The conversation was upon the general subjects of the 
 weather, the company at the Wells, and the news of the day. 
 But Sir Clement, drawing his chair next to mine, took every 
 opportunity of addressing himself to me in particular. 
 
 I could not but remark the striking difference of his 
 attention, and that of Lord Orville : the latter has such gentle- 
 ness of manners, such delicacy of conduct, and an air so 
 respectful, that, when he flatters most, he never distresses, and 
 when he most confers honour, appears to receive it ! The 
 former obtrudes his attention, and forces mine ; it is so pointed, 
 that it always confuses me, and so public, that it attracts 
 general notice. Indeed I have sometimes thought that he 
 would rather wish, than dislike to have his partiality for me 
 
 394
 
 EVELINA 
 
 known, as he takes great care to prevent my being spoken to 
 by anybody but himself. 
 
 When, at length, he went away, Lord Orville took his seat, 
 and said with a half-smile, 'Shall /call Sir Clement, — or will 
 you call me an usurper for taking this place ? You make me 
 no answer? Must I then suppose that Sir Clement ' 
 
 ' It is little worth your Lordship's while,' said I, 'to suppose 
 anything upon so insignificant an occasion.' 
 
 ' Pardon me,' cried he ; 'to me nothing is insignificant in 
 which you are concerned.' 
 
 To this I made no answer, neither did he say anything 
 more, till the ladies retired to dress ; and then, when I would 
 have followed them, he stopped me, saying, ' One moment, I 
 entreat you ! ' 
 
 I turned back, and he went on. ' I greatly fear that I 
 have been so unfortunate as to offend you ; yet so repugnant 
 to my very soul is the idea, that I know not how to suppose 
 it possible I can unwittingly have done the thing in the world 
 that, designedly, I would most wish to avoid.' 
 
 'No, indeed, my Lord, you have not,' said I. 
 
 ' You sigh ! ' cried he, taking my hand, ' would to Heaven I 
 were the sharer of your uneasiness, whencesoever it springs ! 
 with what earnestness would I not struggle to alleviate it ! 
 Tell me, my dear Miss Anville, — my new-adopted sister, my 
 sweet and most amiable friend ! — tell me, I beseech you, if I 
 can afford you any assistance ? ' 
 
 'None, none, my Lord!' cried I, withdrawing my hand 
 and moving towards the door. 
 
 '•Is it then impossible I can serve you ? — perhaps you wish 
 to see Mr. Macartney again ? ' 
 
 ' Xo, my Lord.' And I held the door open. 
 
 ' I am not, I own, sorry for that. Yet, oh, Miss Anville, 
 there is a question, — there is a conjecture, I know not how 
 to mention, because I dread the result ! But I see you are in 
 haste ; — perhaps in the evening I may have the honour of a 
 longer conversation. Yet one thing will you have the goodness 
 to allow me to ask ? Did you, this morning, when you went 
 to the Wells, — did you know who you should meet there?' 
 
 ' Who, my Lord ?' 
 
 ' I beg your pardon a thousand times for a curiosity so 
 unlicensed, — but I will say no more at present.' 
 
 395
 
 EVELINA 
 
 He bowed, expecting me to go, — and then, with quick 
 steps, but a heavy heart, I came to my own room. His 
 question, I am sure, meant Sir Clement Willoughby ; and, had 
 I not imposed upon myself the severe task of avoiding, flying 
 Lord Orville with all my power, I would instantly have satisfied 
 him of my ignorance of Sir Clement's journey. And yet more 
 did I long to say something of the assembly, since I found he 
 depended upon my spending the evening at home. 
 
 I did not go downstairs again till the family was assembled 
 to dinner. My dress, I saw, struck Lord Orville with astonish- 
 ment ; and I was myself so much ashamed of appearing 
 whimsical and unsteady, that I could not look up. 
 
 'I understood,' said Mrs. Beaumont, 'that Miss Anville 
 did not go out this evening ? ' 
 
 'Her intention in the morning,' said Mrs. Selwyn, 'was to 
 stay at home ; but there is a fascinating power in an assembly, 
 which, upon second thoughts, is not to be resisted.' 
 
 ' The assembly ! ' cried Lord Orville, ' are you then going 
 to the assembly ? ' 
 
 I made no answer ; and we all took our places at table. 
 
 It was not without difficulty that I contrived to give up un- 
 usual seat ; but I was determined to adhere to the promise in 
 my yesterday's letter, though I saw that Lord Orville seemed 
 quite confounded at my visible endeavours to avoid him. 
 
 After dinner, we all went into the drawing-room together, 
 as there were no gentlemen to detain his Lordship ; and then, 
 before I could place myself out his way, he said, ' You are 
 then really going to the assembly ? May I ask if you shall 
 dance ? ' 
 
 ' I believe not, — my Lord.' 
 
 ' If I did not fear,' continued he, 'that you would be tired 
 of the same partner at two following assemblies, I would give 
 up my letter-writing till to-morrow, and solicit the honour of 
 your hand.' 
 
 ' If I do dance,' said I, in great confusion, ' I believe I am 
 engaged.' 
 
 'Engaged!' cried he, with earnestness, 'may I ask to 
 whom ? ' 
 
 'To — Sir Clement Willoughby, my Lord.' 
 
 He said nothing, but looked very little pleased, and did 
 not address himself to me any more all the afternoon. Oh, 
 
 39 6
 
 EVELINA 
 
 Sir ! — thus situated, how comfortless were the feelings of your 
 Evelina '. 
 
 Early in the evening', with his usual assiduity, Sir Clement 
 came to conduct us to the assembly. He soon contrived to 
 seat himself next me, and, in a low voice, paid me so many 
 compliments, that I knew not which way to look. 
 
 Lord Orville hardly spoke a word, and his countenance 
 was grave and thoughtful ; yet whenever I raised my eyes, 
 his, I perceived, were directed towards me, though instantly, 
 upon meeting mine, he looked another way. 
 
 In a short time, Sir Clement, taking from his pocket a 
 folded paper, said, almost in a whisper, ' Here, loveliest of 
 women, you will see a faint, an unsuccessful attempt to paint 
 the object of all my adoration ! yet, weak as are the lines for 
 the purpose, I envy beyond expression the happy mortal who 
 has dared make the effort.' 
 
 'I will look at them,' said I, 'some other time.' For, 
 conscious that I was observed by Lord Orville, I could not 
 bear he should see me take a written paper, so privately 
 offered, from Sir Clement. But Sir Clement is an imprac- 
 ticable man, and I never yet succeeded in any attempt to 
 frustrate whatever he had planned. 
 
 ' No,' said he, still in a whisper, ' you must take them now, 
 while Lady Louisa is away'; for she and Mrs. Selwyn were 
 gone upstairs to finish their dress, 'as she must by no means 
 see them.' 
 
 ' Indeed,' said I, ' I have no intention to show them.' 
 
 ' But the only way,' answered he, ' to avoid suspicion, is to 
 take them in her absence. I would have read them aloud 
 myself, but that they are not proper to be seen by anybody in 
 this house, yourself and .Mrs. Selwyn excepted.' 
 
 Then again he presented me the paper, which I now was 
 obliged to take, as 1 found declining it was vain. But I was 
 sorry that this action should be seen, and the whispering 
 remarked, though the purport of the conversation was left to 
 conjecture. 
 
 As I held it in my hand, Sir Clement teased me to look at 
 it immediately ; and told me that the reason he could not 
 produce the lines publicly was, that among the ladies who 
 were mentioned and supposed to be rejected, was Lady Louisa 
 Larpent. I am much concerned at this circumstance, as I 
 
 397
 
 EVELINA 
 
 cannot doubt but that it will render me more disagreeable to 
 her than ever, if she should hear of it. 
 
 I will now copy the verses, which Sir Clement would not 
 let me rest till I had read. 
 
 See last advance, with bashful grace, 
 Downcast eye, and blushing cheek, 
 
 Timid air, and beauteous face, 
 
 Anville, — whom the Graces seek. 
 
 Though ev'ry beauty is her own, 
 
 And though her mind each virtue fills, 
 
 Anville, — to her power unknown, 
 
 Artless strikes, — unconscious kills ! 
 
 I am sure, my dear Sir, you will not wonder that a 
 panegyric such as this should, in reading, give me the greatest 
 confusion ; and, unfortunately, before I had finished it, the 
 ladies returned. 
 
 'What have you there, my dear?' said Mrs. Selwyn. 
 
 ' Nothing, Ma'am,'' said I, hastily folding and putting it in 
 my pocket. 
 
 ' And has nothing,' cried she, ' the power of rouge ? ' 
 
 I made no answer ; a deep sigh which escaped Lord Orville 
 at that moment, reached my ears, and gave me sensations — 
 which I dare not mention ! 
 
 Lord Merton then handed Lady Louisa and Mrs. Beaumont 
 to the latter's carriage. Mrs. Selwyn led the way to Sir 
 Clement's, who handed me in after her. 
 
 During the ride, I did not once speak ; but when I came 
 to the assembly-room, Sir Clement took care that I should not 
 preserve my silence. He asked me immediately to dance ; I 
 begged him to excuse me and seek some other partner. But 
 on the contrary, he told me he was very glad I would sit still, 
 as he had a million of things to say to me. 
 
 He then began to tell me how much he had suffered from 
 absence ; how greatly he was alarmed when he heard I had 
 left town, and how cruelly difficult he had found it to trace me; 
 which, at last, he could only do by sacrificing another week to 
 Captain Mirvan. 
 
 'And Howard Grove,' continued he, ' which, at my first visit. 
 I thought the most delightful spot upon earth, now appeared to 
 me the most dismal : the face of the country seemed altered : 
 
 39«
 
 EVELINA 
 
 the walks which I had thought most pleasant, were now most 
 stupid : Lady Howard, who had appeared a cheerful and 
 respectable old lady, now seemed in the common John Trot 
 style of other aged dames: Mrs. Mirvan, whom I had esteemed 
 as an amiable piece of still-life, now became so insipid, that I 
 could hardly keep awake in her company : the daughter too, 
 whom I had regarded as a good-humoured, pretty sort of girl, 
 now seemed too insignificant for notice : and as to the Captain, 
 
 I had always thought him a booby, — but now he appeared a 
 savage ! ' 
 
 ' Indeed, Sir Clement,' cried I angrily, ' I will not hear you 
 talk thus of my best friends.' 
 
 ' I beg your pardon,' said he, ' but the contrast of my two 
 visits was too striking not to be mentioned.' 
 
 He then asked what I thought of the verses ? 
 
 ' Either,' said I, ' that they are written ironically, or by 
 some madman.' 
 
 Such a profusion of compliments ensued, that I was obliged 
 to propose dancing, in my own defence. When we stood up, 
 
 I I intended,' said he, ' to have discovered the author by his 
 looks ; but I find you so much the general loadstone of atten- 
 tion, that my suspicions change their object every moment. 
 Surely you must yourself have some knowledge who he is ? ' 
 
 I told him, no. Yet, my dear Sir, I must own to you, I 
 have no doubt but that Mr. Macartney must be the author ; no 
 one else would speak of me so partially ; and, indeed, his 
 poetical turn puts it, with me, beyond dispute. 
 
 He asked me a thousand questions concerning Lord Orville ; 
 how long he had been at Bristol ? — what time I had spent at 
 Clifton? — whether he rode out every morning ?— whether I ever 
 trusted myself in a phaeton ? — and a multitude of other inquiries, 
 all tending to discover if I was honoured with much of his 
 Lordship's attention, and all made with his usual freedom and 
 impetuosity. 
 
 Fortunately, as I much wished to retire early, Lady Louisa 
 makes a point of being among the first who quit the rooms, 
 and therefore we got home in very tolerable time. 
 
 Lord Orville's reception of us was grave and cold : far 
 from distinguishing me, as usual, by particular civilities, Lady 
 Louisa herself could not have seen me enter the room with 
 more frigid unconcern, nor have more scrupulously avoided 
 
 399
 
 EVELINA 
 
 honouring me with any notice. But chiefly I was struck to 
 see that he suffered Sir Clement, who stayed supper, to sit 
 between us, without any effort to prevent him, though till then 
 he had seemed to be even tenacious of a seat next mine. 
 
 This little circumstance affected me more than I can express : 
 yet I endeavoured to rejoice at it. since neglect and indifference 
 from him may be my best friends. But, alas ! — so suddenly, 
 so abruptly to forfeit his attention ! — to lose his friendship ! 
 Oh Sir, these thoughts pierced my soul ! — scarce could I keep 
 my seat ; for not all my efforts could restrain the tears from 
 trickling down my cheeks : however, as Lord Orville saw them 
 not, for Sir Clement's head was constantly between us, I tried 
 to collect my spirits, and succeeded so far as to keep my place 
 with decency, till Sir Clement took leave : and then, not daring 
 to trust my eyes to meet those of Lord Orville, I retired. 
 
 I have been writing ever since ; for, certain that I could not 
 sleep, I would not go to bed. Tell me, my dearest Sir, if you 
 possibly can, tell me that you approve my change of conduct, 
 — tell me that my altered behaviour to Lord Orville is right, — 
 that my flying his society, and avoiding his civilities, are actions 
 which you would have dictated. Tell me this, and the sacrifices^! 
 I have made will comfort me in the midst of my regret, — for I 
 never, never can I cease to regret that I have lost the friendship / 
 of Lord Orville ! Oh Sir, I have slighted, — have rejected, — 
 have thrown it away ! No matter, it was an honour I merited V 
 not to preserve ; and I now see, — that my mind was unequal ^ 
 to sustaining it without danger. 
 
 Yet so strong is the desire you have implanted in me to act 
 with uprightness and propriety, that, however the weakness of 
 my heart may distress and afflict me, it will never, I humbly 
 trust, render me wilfully culpable. The wish of doing well 
 governs every other, as far as concerns my conduct, — for am I 
 not your child ? — the creature of your own forming ? Yet, oh 
 Sir, friend, parent of my heart ! — my feelings are all at war 
 with my duties ; and, while I most struggle to acquire self- 
 approbation, my peace, my happiness, my hopes, — are lost ! 
 
 'Tis you alone can compose a mind so cruelly agitated : you, 
 I well know, can feel pity for the weakness to which you are a 
 stranger ; and, though you blame the affliction, soothe and 
 comfort the afflicted. 
 
 400
 
 EVELINA 
 LETTER LXXIII 
 
 MR. VILLARS TO EVELINA 
 
 Berry Hill, Oct. 3. 
 
 Your last communication, my dearest child, is indeed 
 astonishing ; that an acknowledged daughter and heiress of Sir 
 John Belmont should be at Bristol, and still my Evelina bear 
 the name of Anville, is to me inexplicable : yet the mystery of 
 the letter to Lady Howard prepared me to expect something 
 extraordinary upon Sir John Belmont's return to England. 
 
 Whoever this young lady may be, it is certain she now 
 takes a place to which you have a right indisputable. An 
 after-marriage I never heard of; yet, supposing such a one to 
 have happened, Miss Evelyn was certainly the first wife, and 
 therefore her daughter must, at least, be entitled to the name 
 of Belmont. 
 
 Either there are circumstances in this affair at present 
 utterly incomprehensible, or else some strange and most 
 atrocious fraud has been practised ; which of these two is the 
 case, it now behoves us to inquire. 
 
 My reluctance to this step gives way to my conviction of its 
 propriety, since the reputation of your dear and much-injured 
 mother must now either be fully cleared from blemish, or 
 receive its final and indelible wound. 
 
 The public appearance of a daughter of Sir John Belmont 
 will revive the remembrance of Miss Evelyn's story in all who 
 have heard it,— who the mother was, will be universally de- 
 manded, and if any other Lady Belmont should be named, 
 the birth of my Evelina will receive a stigma, against which 
 honour, truth, and innocence may appeal in vain ! a stigma 
 which will eternally blast the fair fame of her virtuous mother, 
 and cast upon her blameless self the odium of a title, which 
 not all her purity can rescue from established shame and 
 dishonour ! 
 
 No, my dear child, no; [ will not quietly suffer the a 
 of your mother to be treated with ignominy! Her spotl 
 character shall be justified to the world her marriage shall be 
 
 401 2 i>
 
 EVELINA 
 
 acknowledged, and her child shall bear the name to which she 
 is lawfully entitled. 
 
 It is true, that Mrs. Mirvan would conduct this affair with 
 more delicacy than Mrs. Selwyn ; yet, perhaps, to save time is, 
 of all considerations, the most important, since the longer this 
 mystery is suffered to continue, the more difficult may be 
 rendered its explanation. The sooner, therefore, you can set 
 out for town, the less formidable will be your task. 
 
 Let not your timidity, my dear love, depress your spirits : I 
 shall, indeed, tremble for you at a meeting so singular and so 
 affecting, yet there can be no doubt of the success of your 
 application : I enclose a letter from your unhappy mother, 
 written, and reserved purposely for this occasion: Mrs. Clinton, 
 too, who attended her in her last illness, must accompany you 
 to town. But, without any other certificate of your birth, that 
 which you carry in your countenance, as it could not be effected 
 by artifice, so it cannot admit of a doubt. 
 
 And now, my Evelina, committed, at length, to the care of 
 your real parent, receive the fervent prayers, wishes, and 
 blessings of him who so fondly adopted you ! 
 
 May'st thou, oh child of my bosom ! may'st thou, in this 
 change of situation, experience no change of disposition ! but 
 receive with humility, and support with meekness, the elevation 
 to which thou art rising ! May thy manners, language, and 
 deportment all evince that modest equanimity and cheerful 
 gratitude which not merely deserve but dignify prosperity ! 
 May'st thou, to the last moments of an unblemished life, retain 
 thy genuine simplicity, thy singleness of heart, thy guileless 
 sincerity ! And may'st thou, stranger to ostentation, and 
 superior to insolence, with true greatness of soul, shine forth 
 conspicuous only in beneficence ! Arthur Villars. 
 
 LETTER LXXIV 
 [Inclosed in tlic preceding Letter.~\ 
 
 LADY BELMONT TO SIR JOHN BELMOXT 
 
 In the firm hope that the moment of anguish which 
 approaches will prove the period of my sufferings, once more 
 
 402
 
 EVELINA 
 
 I address myself to Sir John Belmont, in behalf of the child 
 who, if it survives its mother, will hereafter be the bearer of 
 this letter. 
 
 Vet in what terms, — oh most cruel of men ! — can the lost 
 Caroline address you, and not address you in vain ? Oh deaf 
 to the voice of compassion — deaf to the sting of truth — deaf 
 to every tie of honour — say, in what terms may the lost 
 Caroline address you, and not address you in vain ? 
 
 Shall I call you by the loved, the respected title of husband ? 
 Xo, you disclaim it! — the father of my infant? No, you 
 doom it to infamy ! — the lover who rescued me from a forced 
 marriage ? No, you have yourself betrayed me ! — the friend 
 from whom I hoped succour and protection ? No, you have 
 consigned me to misery and destruction ! 
 
 Oh hardened against every plea of justice, remorse, or pity ! 
 how, and in what manner, may I hope to move thee? Is 
 there one method I have left untried ? remains there one 
 resource unessayed ? No ! I have exhausted all the bitterness 
 of reproach, and drained every sluice of compassion ! 
 
 Hopeless, and almost desperate, twenty times have I flung 
 away my pen ; — but the feelings of a mother, a mother 
 agonising for the fate of her child, again animating my 
 courage, as often I have resumed it. 
 
 Perhaps when I am no more, when the measure of my 
 woes is completed, and the still, silent, unreproaching dust 
 has received my sad remains, — then, perhaps, when accusation 
 is no longer to be feared, nor detection to be dreaded, the 
 voice of equity and the cry of nature may be heard. 
 
 Listen, oh Belmont, to their dictates ! reprobate not your 
 child, though you have reprobated its mother. The evils that 
 are past, perhaps, when too late, you may wish to recall ; the 
 young creature you have persecuted, perhaps, when too late, 
 you may regret that you have destroyed ; — you may think with 
 horror of the deceptions you have practised, and the pangs of 
 remorse may follow me to the tomb : — oh Belmont, all my 
 resentment softens into pity at the thought ! what will become 
 of thee, good Heaven, when with the eye of penitence thou 
 reviewest thy past conduct ! 
 
 Hear, then, the solemn, the last address with which the 
 unhappy Caroline will importune thee. 
 
 If, when the time of thy contrition arrives,— for arrive it 
 4°.}
 
 EVELINA 
 
 must ! — when the sense of thy treachery shall rob thee of 
 almost every other, if then thy tortured heart shall sigh to 
 expiate thy guilt, — mark the conditions upon which I leave 
 thee my forgiveness. 
 
 Thou know'st I am thy wife ! — clear, then, to the world 
 the reputation thou hast sullied, and receive as thy lawful 
 successor the child who will present thee this my dying 
 request ! 
 
 The worthiest, the most benevolent, the best of men, to 
 whose consoling kindness I owe the little tranquillity I ha\c 
 been able to preserve, has plighted me his faith that, upon no 
 other conditions, he will part with his helpless charge. 
 
 Should'st thou, in the features of this deserted innocent, 
 trace the resemblance of the wretched Caroline, — should its 
 face bear the marks of its birth, and revive in thy memory the 
 image of its mother, wilt thou not, Belmont, wilt thou not 
 therefore renounce it ? Oh babe of my fondest affection ! for 
 whom already I experience all the tenderness of maternal pity ! 
 — look not like thy unfortunate mother, — lest the parent whom 
 the hand of death may spare, shall be snatched from thee by 
 the more cruel means of unnatural antipathy ! 
 
 I can write no more. The small share of serenity I have 
 painfully acquired will not bear the shock of the dreadful ideas 
 that crowd upon me. 
 
 Adieu, — for ever ! 
 
 Yet oh !— shall I not, in this last farewell, which thou wilt 
 not read till every stormy passion is extinct, — and the kind 
 grave has embosomed all my sorrows, — shall I not offer to 
 the man once so dear to me, a ray of consolation to those 
 afflictions he has in reserve ? Suffer me, then, to tell thee, 
 that my pity far exceeds my indignation, — that I will pray for 
 thee in my last moments,— and that the recollection of the 
 love I once bore thee shall swallow up every other ! 
 
 Once more, adieu ! Caroline Belmont. 
 
 404
 
 EVELINA 
 LETTER LXXV 
 
 EVELINA TO THE REV. MR. VILLARS 
 
 Clifton, Oct. 3. 
 
 This morning I saw from my window that Lord Orville 
 was walking in the garden ; but I would not go downstairs till 
 breakfast was ready : and then, he paid me his compliments 
 almost as coldly as Lady Louisa paid hers. 
 
 I took my usual place, and Mrs. Beaumont, Lady Louisa, 
 and Mrs. Selwyn entered into their usual conversation. Not 
 so your Evelina : disregarded, silent, and melancholy, she sat 
 like a cypher, whom to nobody belonging, by nobody was 
 noticed. 
 
 Ill brooking such a situation, and unable to support the 
 neglect of Lord Orville, the moment breakfast was over, I left 
 the room ; and was going upstairs, when, very unpleasantly, I 
 was stopped by Sir Clement Willoughby, who, flying into the 
 hall, prevented my proceeding. 
 
 He inquired very particularly after my health, and entreated 
 me to return into the parlour. Unwillingly I consented, but 
 thought anything preferable to continuing alone with him ; 
 and he would neither leave me, nor suffer me to pass on. 
 Yet, in returning, I felt not a little ashamed of appearing thus 
 to take the visit of Sir Clement to myself. And, indeed, he 
 endeavoured, by his manner of addressing me, to give it that 
 air. 
 
 He stayed, I believe, an hour ; nor would he, perhaps, even 
 then have gone, had not Mrs. Beaumont broken up the party, 
 by proposing an airing in her coach. Lady Louisa consented 
 to accompany her : but Mrs. Selwyn, when applied to, said, 
 ' If my Lord, or Sir Clement, will join us, I shall be happy to 
 make one ; — but really a trio of females will be nervous to the 
 last degree.' 
 
 Sir Clement readily agreed to attend them ; indeed, he 
 makes it his evident study to court the favour of Mrs. Beaumont. 
 Lord Orville excused himself from going out ; and I retired to 
 my own room. What he did with himself I know not, for I 
 would not go downstairs till dinner was ready : his coldness, 
 
 4°5
 
 EVELINA 
 
 though my own change of behaviour has occasioned it, so 
 cruelly depresses my spirits, that I know not how to support 
 myself in his presence. 
 
 At dinner, I found Sir Clement again of the party. Indeed 
 he manages everything his own way ; for Mrs. Beaumont, 
 though by no means easy to please, seems quite at his disposal. 
 
 The dinner, the afternoon, and the evening were to me the 
 most irksome imaginable : I was tormented by the assiduity 
 of Sir Clement, who not only took, but made opportunities of 
 speaking to me, — and I was hurt, — oh how inexpressibly hurt ! 
 — that Lord Orville not only forbore, as hitherto, seeking, he 
 even neglected all occasions of talking with me ! 
 
 I begin to think, my dear Sir, that the sudden alteration in 
 my behaviour was ill-judged and improper ; for, as I had 
 received no offence, as the cause of the change was upon my 
 account, not his, I should not have assumed, so abruptly, a 
 reserve for which I dared assign no reason, — nor have shunned 
 his presence so obviously, without considering the strange 
 appearance of such a conduct. 
 
 Alas, my dearest Sir, that my reflections should always be 
 too late to serve me ! dearly, indeed, do I purchase experience '. 
 and much I fear I shall suffer yet more severely, from the 
 heedless indiscretion of my temper, ere I attain that prudence 
 and consideration which, by foreseeing distant consequences, 
 may rule and direct in present exigencies. 
 
 Oct. 4. 
 
 Yesterday morning everybody rode out, except Mrs. Selwyn 
 and myself: and we two sat for some time together in her 
 room ; but, as soon as I could, I quitted her, to saunter in the 
 garden ; for she diverts herself so unmercifully with rallying 
 me, either upon my gravity, — or concerning Lord Orville, — 
 that I dread having any conversation with her. 
 
 Here I believe I spent an hour by myself; when, hearing 
 the garden-gate open, I went into an arbour at the end of a 
 long walk, where, ruminating, very unpleasantly, upon my 
 future prospects, I remained quietly seated but a few minutes 
 before I was interrupted by the appearance of Sir Clement 
 Willoughby. 
 
 I started ; and would have left the arbour, but he prevented 
 me. Indeed I am almost certain he had heard in the house 
 
 406
 
 EVELINA 
 
 where I was, as it is not otherwise probable he would have 
 strolled down the garden alone. 
 
 . ' Stop, stop,' cried he, ' loveliest and most beloved of women, 
 stop and hear me ! ; 
 
 Then, making me keep my place, he sat down by me, and 
 would have taken my hand ; but I drew it back, and said I 
 could not stay. 
 
 v Can you, then,' cried he, ' refuse me even the smallest 
 gratification, though but yesterday I almost suffered martyrdom 
 for the pleasure of seeing you ? ' 
 
 • .Martyrdom ! Sir Clement.' 
 
 ' Yes, beauteous insensible ! martyrdom : for did I not 
 compel myself to be immured in a carriage, the tedious length 
 of a whole morning, with the three most fatiguing women in 
 England ?' 
 
 • Upon my word, the ladies are extremely obliged to you.' 
 
 ' O,' returned he, ' they have, every one of them, so copious 
 a share of their own personal esteem, that they have no right 
 to repine at the failure of it in the world ; and, indeed, they 
 will themselves be the last to discover it.' 
 
 'How little,' cried I. 'are those ladies aware of such 
 severity from you .' ' 
 
 'They are guarded,' answered he, 'so happily and so 
 securely by their own conceit, that they are not aware of it 
 from anybody. Oh Miss Anville, to be torn away from you, 
 in order to be shut up with them, — is there a human being, 
 except your cruel self, could forbear to pity me ? ' 
 
 ' I believe, Sir Clement, however hardly you may choose to 
 judge of them, your situation, by the world in general, would 
 rather have been envied, than pitied.' 
 
 'The world in general,' answered he, 'has the same opinion 
 of them that I have myself: Mrs. Beaumont is everywhere 
 laughed at, Lady Louisa ridiculed, and Mrs. Selwyn hated.' 
 
 'Good Cod, Sir Clement, what cruel strength of words do 
 you use ! ' 
 
 ' It is you, my angel, are to blame, since your perfections 
 have rendered their faults so glaring. I protest to you, during 
 our whole ride, I thought the carriage drawn by snails. I he 
 absurd pride of Mrs. Beaumont, and the respect she exacts, 
 are at once insufferable and stupefying ; had I never before 
 been in her company, I should have concluded that this had 
 
 407
 
 EVELINA 
 
 been her first airing from the herald's-office, — and wished her 
 nothing worse than that it might also be the last. I assure 
 you, that but for gaining the freedom of her house, I would 
 fly her as I would plague, pestilence, and famine. Mrs. 
 Selwyn, indeed, afforded some relief from this formality, but 
 the unbounded license of her tongue ' 
 
 ' O, Sir Clement, do you object to that ? ' 
 
 'Yes, my sweet reproacher, in a woman, I do ; in a woman 
 I think it intolerable. She has wit, I acknowledge, and more 
 understanding than half her sex put together ; but she keeps 
 alive a perpetual expectation of satire, that spreads a general 
 uneasiness among all who are in her presence ; and she talks 
 so much, that even the best things she says weary the attention. 
 As to the little Louisa, 'tis such a pretty piece of languor, 
 that 'tis almost cruel to speak rationally about her, — else I 
 should say, she is a mere compound of affectation, impertinence, 
 and airs.' 
 
 ' I am quite amazed,' said I, 'that, with such opinions, you 
 can behave to them all with so much attention and civility.' 
 
 'Civility! my angel, — why I could worship, could adore 
 them, only to procure myself a moment of your conversation ! 
 Have you not seen me pay my court to the gross Captain 
 Mirvan, and the virago Madame Duval ? Were it possible 
 that a creature so horrid could be, formed, as to partake of the 
 worst qualities of all these characters, — a creature who should 
 have the haughtiness of Mrs. Beaumont, the brutality of 
 Captain Mirvan, the self-conceit of Mrs. Selwyn, the affectation 
 of Lady Louisa, and the vulgarity of Madame Duval, — even 
 to such a monster as that, I would pay homage, and pour 
 forth adulation, only to obtain one word, one look from my 
 adored Miss Anville ! ' 
 
 'Sir Clement,' said I, 'you are greatly mistaken if you 
 suppose such duplicity of character recommends you to my 
 good opinion. But I must take this opportunity of begging 
 you never more to talk to me in this strain.' 
 
 ' Oh Miss Anville, your reproofs, your coldness, pierce me 
 to the soul ! look upon me with less rigour, and make me 
 what you please ; — you shall govern and direct all my actions, 
 — you shall new-form, new-model me : — I will not have even 
 a wish but of your suggestion ; only deign to look upon me 
 with pity, — if not with favour ! ' 
 
 408
 
 EVELINA 
 
 ' Suffer me, Sir,' said I very gravely, ' to make use of this 
 occasion to put a final conclusion to such expressions. I 
 entreat you never again to address me in a language so 
 flighty, and so unwelcome. You have already given me great 
 uneasiness ; and I must frankly assure you, that if you do not 
 desire to banish me from wherever you are, you will adopt a 
 very different style and conduct in future.' 
 
 I then rose, and was going, but he flung himself at my 
 feet to prevent me, exclaiming, in a most passionate manner, 
 'Good God! Miss Anville, what do you say? — is it, can it 
 be possible, that so unmoved, that with such petrifying in- 
 difference, you can tear from me even the remotest hope !' 
 
 ' I know not, Sir,' said I, endeavouring to disengage myself 
 from him, ' what hope you mean, but I am sure that I never 
 intended to give you any.' 
 
 ' You distract me ! ' cried he, ' I cannot endure such scorn ; 
 — I beseech you to have some moderation in your cruelty, 
 lest you make me desperate : — say, then, that you pity me, — 
 
 fairest inexorable ! loveliest tyrant ! — say, tell me, at least, 
 that you pity me '. ' 
 
 Just then, who should come in sight, as if intending to 
 pass by the arbour, but Lord Orville ! Good Heaven, how 
 did I start ! and he, the moment he saw me, turned pale, and 
 ^jas hastily retiring ; — but I called out ' Lord Orville ! — Sir 
 Clement, release me, — let go my hand ! ' 
 
 Sir Clement, in some confusion, suddenly rose, but still 
 grasped my hand. Lord Orville, who had turned back, was 
 again walking away ; but, still struggling to disengage myself, 
 
 1 railed out, ' Pray, pray, my Lord, doirt go !— Sir Clement, I 
 i>isist upon your releasing me ! ' 
 
 Lord Orville then, hastily approaching us, said, with great 
 spirit, 'Sir Clement, you cannot wish to detain Miss Anville 
 by force ! ' 
 
 'Neither, my Lord,' cried Sir Clement proudly, 'do I 
 request the honour of your Lordship's interference.' 
 
 However, he let go my hand, and I immediately ran into 
 the house. 
 
 I was now frightened to death lest Sir Clement's mortified 
 pride should provoke him to affront Lord Orville : I therefore 
 r.in hastily to Mrs. Selwyn, and entreated her, in a manner 
 hardly to be understood, to walk towards the arbour. She 
 
 409
 
 EVELINA 
 
 asked no questions, for she is quick as lightning in taking a 
 hint, but instantly hastened into the garden. 
 
 Imagine, my dear Sir, how wretched I must be till I saw 
 her return ! scarce could I restrain myself from running back : 
 however, I checked my impatience, and waited, though in 
 agonies, till she came. 
 
 And, now, my dear Sir, I have a conversation to write, the 
 most interesting to me, that I ever heard. The comments 
 and questions with which Mrs. Selwyn interrupted her account, 
 I shall not mention ; for they are such as you may very easily 
 suppose. 
 
 Lord Orville and Sir Clement were both seated very quietly 
 in the arbour: and Mrs. Selwyn, standing still, as soon as she 
 was within a few yards of them, heard Sir Clement say, 'Your 
 question, my Lord, alarms me, and I can by no means answer 
 it, unless you will allow me to propose another?' 
 
 ' Undoubtedly, Sir.' 
 
 'You ask me, my Lord, what are my intentions ? I should 
 be very happy to be satisfied as to your Lordship's.' 
 
 ' I have never, Sir, professed any.' 
 
 Here they were both, for a few moments, silent ; and then 
 Sir Clement said, ' To what, my Lord, must I, then, impute 
 your desire of knowing mine ? ' 
 
 ' To an unaffected interest in Miss Anville's welfare.' & 
 
 'Such an interest,' said Sir Clement drily, 'is, indeed, very 
 generous : but, except in a father, — a brother. — or a lover ' 
 
 ' Sir Clement,' interrupted his Lordship, ' I know your 
 inference : and I acknowledge I have not the right of inquiry 
 which any of those three titles bestow, and yet I confess the 
 warmest wishes to serve her, and to see her happy. Will you. 
 then, excuse me, if I take the liberty to repeat my question ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, if your Lordship will excuse my repeating that I 
 think it a rather extraordinary one.' 
 
 'It may be so,' said Lord Orville; 'but this young lady 
 seems to be peculiarly situated ; she is very young, very in- 
 experienced, yet appears to be left totally to her own direction. 
 She does not, I believe, see the dangers to which she is 
 exposed, and I will own to you, I feel a strong desire to point 
 them out.' 
 
 'I don't rightly understand your Lordship,— but I think 
 you cannot mean to prejudice her against me ? ' 
 
 410
 
 EVELINA 
 
 ' Her sentiments of you, Sir, are as much unknown to me, 
 as your intentions towards her. Perhaps, were I acquainted 
 with either, my officiousness might be at an end : but I 
 presume not to ask upon what terms ' 
 
 Here he stopped ; and Sir Clement said, ' You know, my 
 Lord, I am not given to despair ; I am by no means such 
 a puppy as to tell you I am upon sure ground, however, 
 perseverance ' 
 
 • You are, then, determined to persevere ? ' 
 
 ' I am, my Lord.' 
 
 1 Pardon me, then, Sir Clement, if I speak to you with 
 freedom. This young lady, though she seems alone, and in 
 some measure unprotected, is not entirely without friends ; 
 she has been extremely well educated, and accustomed to 
 good company ; she has a natural love of virtue, and a mind 
 that might adorn any station, however exalted : is such a 
 young lady, Sir Clement, a proper object to trifle with ? — for 
 your principles, excuse me, Sir are well known.' 
 
 ' As to that, my Lord, let Miss Anville look to herself ; she 
 has an excellent understanding, and needs no counsellor.' 
 
 ' Her understanding is, indeed, excellent ; but she is too 
 young for suspicion, and has an artlessness of disposition that 
 I never saw equalled.' 
 
 ' My Lord,' cried Sir Clement warmly, 'your praises make 
 me doubt your disinterestedness, and there exists not the man 
 who I would so unwillingly have for a rival as yourself. But 
 you must give me leave to say, you have greatly deceived me 
 in regard to this affair.' 
 
 'How so, Sir?' cried Lord Orville, with equal warmth. 
 
 1 You were pleased, my Lord,' answered Sir Clement, 'upon 
 our first conversation concerning this young lady, to speak of 
 her in terms by no means suited to your present encomiums ; 
 you said she was a poor, weak, ignorant girl, and I had great 
 reason to believe you had a most contemptuous opinion of her.' 
 
 ' It is very true,' said Lord Orville, 'that I did not, at our 
 first acquaintance, do justice to the merit of Miss Anville ; but 
 I knew not then how new she was to the world : at present, 
 however, I am convinced that whatever might appear strange 
 in her behaviour was simply the effect of inexperience, timidity, 
 and a retired education ; for I find her informed, sensible, and 
 intelligent. She is not, i ndeed, like jnost modern jyoung ladies, 
 
 411
 
 EVELINA 
 
 to_b_e _known in half an __ho_ujL; her modest worth, and fearful 
 excellence, require both time and encouragement to show 
 themselves. She does not, beautiful as she is, seize the soul 
 by surprise, but, with more dangerous fascination, she steals it 
 almost imperceptibly.' 
 
 ' Enough, my Lord, - ' cried Sir Clement ; ' your solicitude for 
 her welfare is now sufficiently explained.' 
 
 ' My friendship and esteem,' returned Lord Orville, ' I do 
 not wish to disguise ; but assure yourself, Sir Clement, I 
 should not have troubled you upon this subject had Miss 
 Anville and I ever conversed but as friends. However, since 
 you do not choose to avow your intentions, we must drop the 
 subject.' 
 
 'My intentions,' cried he, 'I will frankly own, are hardly 
 known to myself. I think Miss Anville the loveliest of her 
 sex, and, were I a marrying man, she, of all the women I 
 have seen, I would fix upon for a wife : but I believe that not 
 even the philosophy of your Lordship would recommend to me 
 a connection of that sort, with a girl of obscure birth, whose 
 only dowry is her beauty, and who is evidently in a state of 
 dependency.' 
 
 ' Sir Clement,' cried Lord Orville, with some heat, ' we will 
 discuss this point no further ; we are both free agents, and 
 must act for ourselves.' 
 
 Here Mrs. Selwyn, fearing a surprise, and finding my 
 apprehensions of danger were groundless, retired hastily into 
 another walk, and soon after came to give me this account. 
 
 Good Heaven, what a man is this Sir Clement! so designing, 
 though so easy ; so deliberately artful, though so flighty ! 
 Greatly, however, is he mistaken, all confident as he seems ; 
 for the girl, obscure, poor, dependent as she is, far from 
 wishing the honour of his alliance, would not only jiow, but 
 always have rejected it. 
 
 As to Lord Orville, — but I will not trust my pen to mention 
 him, — tell me, my dear Sir, what you think of him? — tell me 
 if he is not the noblest of men ? — and if you can either wonder 
 at, or blame my admiration ? 
 
 The idea of being seen by either party, immediately after 
 so singular a conversation, was both awkward and distressing 
 to me ; but I was obliged to appear at dinner. Sir Clement, 
 I saw, was absent and uneasy ; he watched me, he watched 
 
 412
 
 EVELINA 
 
 Lord Orville, and was evidently disturbed in his mind. When- 
 ever he spoke to me, I turned from him with undisguised 
 disdain, for I am too much irritated against him to bear with 
 his ill-meant assiduities any longer. 
 
 But, not once, — not a moment did I dare meet the eyes of 
 Lord Orville I All consciousness myself, I dreaded his pene- 
 tration, and directed mine every way — but towards his. The 
 rest of the day I never quitted Mrs. Selwyn. 
 
 Adieu, my dear "Sir : to-morrow I expect your directions 
 whether I am to return to Berry Hill, or once more to visit 
 London. 
 
 LETTER LXXVI 
 
 EVELINA IN CONTINUATION 
 
 Oct. 6. 
 
 And now, my dearest Sir, if the perturbation of my spirits 
 will allow me, I will finish my last letter from Clifton Hill. 
 
 This morning, though I did not go downstairs early, Lord 
 Orville was the only person in the parlour when I entered it. 
 I felt no small confusion at seeing him alone, after having so 
 long and successfully avoided such a meeting. As soon as the 
 usual compliments were over, I would have left the room, but 
 he stopped me by saying, ' If I disturb you, Miss Anville, I 
 am gone.' 
 
 ' My Lord,' said I, rather embarrassed, ' I did not mean to 
 stay.' 
 
 ' I flattered myself,' cried he, ' I should have had a moment's 
 conversation with you.' 
 
 I then turned back ; and he seemed himself in some per- 
 plexity ; but after a short pause, 'You arc very good,' said he, 
 ' to indulge my request ; I have, indeed, for some time past, 
 most ardently desired an opportunity of speaking to you.' 
 
 Again he paused ; but I said nothing, so he went on. 
 
 'You allowed me, Madam, a few days since, you allowed 
 me to lay claim to your friendship, — to interest myself in your 
 affairs, — to call you by the affectionate title of sister ; — and the 
 honour you did me, no man could have been more sensible of; 
 I am ig norant , th erefor e, how I ha ve been s o_ unfortunate as to 
 
 4M
 
 EVELINA 
 
 forfeit it : — but, at present, all is changed ! you fly me, — your 
 averted eye shuns to meet mine, and you sedulously avoid my 
 conversation.' 
 
 I was extremely disconcerted at this grave, and but too just 
 accusation, and I am sure I must look very simple ; — but I 
 made no answer. 
 
 ' You will not, I hope,' continued he, ' condemn me unheard ; 
 if there is anything I have done, — or anything I have neglected, 
 tell me, I beseech you, what, and it shall be the whole study 
 of my thoughts how to deserve your pardon.' 
 
 ' Oh my Lord,' cried I, penetrated at once with shame and 
 gratitude, ' your too, too great politeness oppresses me ! — you 
 have done nothing, — I have never dreamt of offence ; — if there 
 is any pardon to be asked, it is rather for me, than for you to 
 ask it.' 
 
 ' You are all sweetness and condescension ! ' cried he, ' and 
 I flatter myself you will again allow me to claim those titles 
 which I find myself so unable to forego. Yet, occupied as 1 
 am with an idea which gives me the severest uneasiness, I 
 hope you will not think me impertinent, if I still solicit, still 
 entreat, nay implore you to tell me, to what cause your late 
 sudden, and to me most painful, reserve was owing ? ' 
 
 ' Indeed, my Lord,' said I, stammering, ' I don't. — I can't, 
 — indeed, my Lord, ' 
 
 ' I am sorry to distress you,' said he, ' and ashamed to be 
 so urgent, — yet I know not how to be satisfied while in ignor- 
 ance, — and the time when the change happened makes me 
 apprehend — may I, Miss Anville, tell you what it makes me 
 apprehend ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly, my Lord.' 
 
 ' Tell me, then, — and pardon a question most essentially 
 important to me ; — Had, or had not, Sir Clement Willoughby 
 any share in causing your inquietude ? ' 
 
 ' No, my Lord,' answered I, with firmness, ' none in the 
 world.' 
 
 ' A thousand, thousand thanks ! ' cried he : ' you have 
 relieved me from a weight of conjecture which I supported 
 very painfully. But one thing more : is it, in any measure, to 
 Sir Clement that I may attribute the alteration in your behaviour 
 to myself, which, I could not but observe, began the very day 
 of his arrival at the Hotwells ? ' 
 
 414
 
 EVELINA 
 
 ' To Sir Clement, my Lord ' said I, ' attribute nothing. 
 He is the last man in the world who would have any influence 
 over my conduct.' 
 
 ' And will you, then, restore to me that share of confidence 
 and favour with which you honoured me before he came ? ' 
 
 Just then, to my great relief, — for I knew not what to say, 
 — Mrs. Beaumont opened the door, and in a few minutes we 
 went to breakfast. 
 
 Lord Orville was all gaiety ; never did I see him more lively 
 or more agreeable. Very soon after, Sir Clement Willoughby 
 called, to pay his respects, he said, to Mrs. Beaumont. I then 
 came to my own room, where, indulging my reflections, which 
 now soothed, and now alarmed me, I remained very quietly, 
 till I received your most kind letter. 
 
 Oh Sir, how sweet are the prayers you offer for your 
 Evelina ! how grateful to her are the blessings you pour upon 
 her head ! You commit me to my real parent. Ah, Guardian, 
 Friend, Protector of my youth, — by whom my helpless infancy 
 was cherished, my mind formed, my very life preserved, — -you 
 are the Parent my heart acknowledges, and to you do I vow 
 eternal duty, gratitude, and affection ! 
 
 I look forward to the approaching interview with more fear 
 than hope ; but important as is this subject, I am just now 
 wholly engrossed with another, which I must hasten to com- 
 municate. 
 
 I immediately acquainted Mrs. Selwyn with the purport of 
 your letter. She was charmed to find your opinion agreed 
 with her own, and settled that we should go to town to-morrow 
 morning. And a chaise is actually ordered to be here by one 
 o'clock. 
 
 She then desired me to pack up my clothes ; and said she 
 must go, herself, to make speeches, and tell lies to Mrs. 
 Beaumont. 
 
 When I went downstairs to dinner, Lord Orville, who was 
 still in excellent spirits, reproached me for secluding myself so 
 much from the company. He sat next me, — he would sit 
 next me, — at table ; and he might, I am sure, repeat what he 
 once said of me before, that he almost exh lusted himself i/i 
 fruitless endeavours to entertain me; — for, indeed, I was not 
 to be entertained : I was totally spiritless and dejected ; the 
 idea of the approaching meeting, and oh. Sir, the idea of the 
 
 415
 
 EVELINA 
 
 approaching parting, — gave a heaviness to my heart, that 
 I could neither conquer nor repress. I even regretted the 
 half explanation that had passed, and wished Lord Orville 
 had supported his own reserve, and suffered me to support 
 mine. 
 
 However, when, during dinner, Mrs. Beaumont spoke of 
 our journey, my gravity was no longer singular ; a cloud 
 instantly overspread the countenance of Lord Orville, and he 
 became nearly as thoughtful and as silent as myself. 
 
 We all went together to the drawing-room. After a short 
 and unentertaining conversation, Mrs. Selwyn said she must 
 prepare for her journey, and begged me to seek for some books 
 she had left in the parlour. 
 
 And here, while I was looking for them, I was followed 
 by Lord Orville. He shut the door after he came in, and 
 approaching me with a look of great anxiety, said, ' Is this 
 true, Miss Anville, are you going?' 
 
 ' I believe so, my Lord," said I, still looking for the books. 
 
 ' So suddenly, so unexpectedly must I lose you ? : 
 
 ' No great loss, my Lord,' cried I, endeavouring to speak 
 cheerfully. 
 
 ' Is it possible/ said he gravely, ' Miss Anville can doubt 
 my sincerity ? ' 
 
 'I can't imagine,' cried I, 'what Mrs. Selwyn has done 
 with these books.' 
 
 'Would to Heaven,' continued he, 'I might flatter myself 
 you would allow me to prove it ! ' 
 
 ' I must run upstairs,' cried I, greatly confused, ' and ask 
 what she has done with them.' 
 
 ' You are going, then,' cried he, taking my hand, ' and you 
 give me not the smallest hope of your return ! — will you not, 
 then, my too lovely friend ! — will you not, at least, teach me, 
 with fortitude like your own, to support your absence?' 
 
 ' My Lord,' cried I, endeavouring to disengage my hand, 
 ' pray let me go ! ' 
 
 ' I will,' cried he, to my inexpressible confusion, dropping 
 on one knee, ' if you wish to leave me ! ' 
 
 'Oh, my Lord,' exclaimed I, 'rise, I beseech you, rise! 
 such a posture to me ! — surely your Lordship is not so cruel 
 as to mock me ! ' 
 
 ' Mock you ! ' repeated he earnestly, ' no, I revere you ! I 
 4t6
 
 EVELINA 
 
 esteem and I admire you above all human beings ! you are the 
 friend to whom my soul is attached as to its better half! you 
 are the most amiable, the most perfect of women ! and you 
 are dearer to me than language has the power of telling ! ' 
 
 I attempt not to describe my sensations at that moment ; 
 I scarce breathed ; I doubted if I existed, — the blood forsook 
 my cheeks, and my feet refused to sustain me : Lord Orville, 
 hastily rising, supported me to a chair, upon which I sank, 
 almost lifeless. 
 
 For a few minutes we neither of us spoke ; and then, 
 seeing me recover, Lord Orville, though in terms hardly 
 articulate, entreated my pardon for his abruptness. The 
 moment my strength returned, I attempted to rise, but he 
 would not permit me. 
 
 I cannot write the scene that followed, though every word 
 is engraven on my heart ; but his protestations, his expressions, 
 were too flattering for repetition : nor would he, in spite of my 
 repeated efforts to leave him, suffer me to escape ; — in short, 
 my dear Sir, I was not proof against his solicitations — and he 
 drew from me the most sacred secret of my heart ! 
 
 I know not how long we were together, but Lord Orville 
 was upon his knees, when the door was opened by Mrs. 
 Selwyn ! To tell you, Sir, the shame with which I was over- 
 whelmed, would be impossible ; — I snatched my hand from 
 Lord Orville, he, too, started and rose, and Mrs. Selwyn, for 
 some instants, stood facing us both in silence. 
 
 At last, ' My Lord,' said she, sarcastically, ' have you been 
 so good as to help Miss Anville to look for my books ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, Madam,' answered he, attempting to rally, ' and I 
 hope we shall soon be able to find them.' 
 
 'Your Lordship is extremely kind,' said she, dryly, 'but I 
 can by no means consent to take up any more of your time.' 
 Then, looking on the window -seat, she presently found the 
 books, and added, ' Come, here are just three, and so, like 
 the servants in the Drummer, this important affair may give 
 employment to us all.' She then presented one of them to 
 Lord Orville, another to me, and taking a third herself, with 
 a most provoking look, she left the room. 
 
 I would instantly have followed her ; but Lord Orville, 
 who could not help laughing, begged me to stay a minute, as 
 he had many important matters to discuss. 
 
 417 2 E
 
 
 
 'J.Z*S^*~3a 
 
 
 / r 
 
 I 
 
 . 
 
 ?^ 
 
 r-K^ 
 
 <&*r>~ 
 
 
 >>^i. 
 
 Presented one of them to Lord Orville, another to me.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 ' Xo, indeed, my Lord, I cannot — perhaps I have already 
 stayed too long.' 
 
 ' Does Miss Anville so soon repent her goodness ?' 
 
 'I scarce know what I do, my Lord, — I am quite be- 
 wildered ! ' 
 
 ' One hour's conversation,' cried he, ' will I hope compose 
 your spirits, and confirm my happiness. When, then, may I 
 hope to see you alone ? — shall you walk in the garden to- 
 morrow before breakfast ? ' 
 
 ' Xo, no, my Lord ; you must not, a second time, reproach 
 me with making an appointment? 
 
 ' Do you then,' said he, laughing, ' reserve that honour 
 only for Mr. Macartney?' 
 
 ' Mr. Macartney,' said I, ' is poor, and thinks himself 
 obliged to me ; otherwise ' 
 
 ' Poverty,' cried he, ' I will not plead ; but if being obliged 
 to you has any weight, who shall dispute my title to an 
 appointment ? ' 
 
 ' My Lord, I can stay no longer, — Mrs. Selwyn will lose 
 all patience.' 
 
 'Deprive her not of the pleasure of her conjtxtures ; — but, 
 tell me, are you under Mrs. Selwyn's care ? 
 
 ' Only for the present, my Lord.' 
 
 ' Xot a few are the questions I have to ask Miss Anville : 
 among them, the most important is, whether she depends 
 wholly on herself, or whether there is any other person for 
 whose interest I must solicit ? ' 
 
 ' I hardly know, my Lord, I hardly know myself to whom 
 I most belong.' 
 
 ' Suffer, suffer me, then,' cried he, with warmth, ' to hasten 
 the time when that shall no longer admit a doubt! — when 
 your grateful Orville may call you all his own ! ' 
 
 At length, but with difficulty, I broke from him. I went, 
 however, to my own room, for I was too much agitated to 
 follow Mrs. Selwyn. Good God, my dear Sir. what a scene ! 
 surely the meeting for which I shall prepare to-morrow cannot 
 so greatly affe< t me ! To_ he loved by Lord Orville, — to b e. 
 ,tlip honoure d choice of his noble heart, — my hppp' nf * g<; gPf ' nip ' 1 
 too infinite to_ be borne, and I wept, even bitterly I wept, from 
 the excess of joy which overpowered me. 
 
 In this state of almost"" painful felicity I continued till I 
 
 4TQ
 
 EVELINA 
 
 was summoned to tea. When I re-entered the drawing-room, 
 I rejoiced much to find it full of company, as the confusion with 
 which I met Lord Orville was rendered the less observable. 
 
 Immediately after tea, most of the company played at 
 cards, — and then, and till supper-time, Lord Orville devoted 
 himself wholly to me. 
 
 He saw that my eyes were red, and would not let me rest 
 till he had made me confess the cause ; and when, though 
 most reluctantly, I had acknowledged my weakness, I could 
 with difficulty refrain from weeping again at the gratitude he 
 expressed. 
 
 He earnestly desired to know if my journey could not be 
 postponed, and when I said no entreated permission to attend 
 me to town. 
 
 ' Oh, my Lord,' cried I, ' what a request ! ' 
 
 ' The sooner,' answered he, ' I make my devotion to you 
 public, the sooner I may expect, from your delicacy, you will 
 convince the world you encourage no mere danglers.' 
 
 ' You teach me, then, my Lord, the inference I might 
 expect, if I complied.' 
 
 ' And can you wonder I should seek to hasten the happy 
 time, when no scruples, no discretion will demand our separa- 
 tion ? and when the most punctilious delicacy will rather 
 promote, than oppose, my happiness in attending you ? ' 
 
 To this I was silent, and he re-urged his request. 
 
 ' My Lord,' said I, 'you ask what I have no power to grant. 
 This journey will deprive me of all power to act for myself.' 
 
 ' What does Miss Anville mean ? ' 
 
 ' I cannot now explain myself; indeed, if I could, the task 
 would be both painful and tedious.' 
 
 ' O Miss Anville,' cried he, ' when may I hope to date the 
 period of this mystery ? when flatter myself that my promised 
 friend will indeed honour me with her confidence ? ' 
 
 ' My Lord,' said I, ' I mean not to affect any mystery, — 
 but my affairs are so circumstanced, that a long and most un- 
 happy story can alone explain them. However, if a short 
 suspense will give your Lordship any uneasiness ' 
 
 'My beloved Miss Anville,' cried he, eagerly, 'pardon my 
 impatience ! You shall tell me nothing you would wish to 
 conceal, — I will wait your own time for information, and trust 
 to your goodness for its speed.' 
 
 420
 
 EVELINA 
 
 'There is nothing; my Lord, I wish to conceal — to postpone 
 an explanation is all I desire.' 
 
 He then requested, that, since I would not allow him to" 
 accompany me to town, I would permit him to write to me, 
 and promise to answer his letters. 
 
 A sudden recollection of the two letters which had already 
 passed between us occurring to me, I hastily answered, ' No, 
 indeed, my Lord ! ' 
 
 ' I am extremely sorry,' said he, gravely, ' that you think 
 me too presumptuous. I must own I had flattered myself, 
 that to soften the inquietude of an absence which seems 
 attended by so many inexplicable circumstances, would not 
 have been to incur your displeasure.' 
 
 This seriousness hurt me ; and I could not forbear saying, 
 ' Can you indeed desire, my Lord, that I should, a second 
 time, expose myself, by an unguarded readiness to write to 
 you ? ' 
 
 ' A second time .' unguarded readiness .' '' repeated he ; ' you 
 amaze me ! ' 
 
 ' Has your Lordship then quite forgot the foolish letter I 
 was so imprudent as to send you when in town ? ' 
 
 ' I have not the least idea,' cried he, ' of what you mean.' 
 
 'Why then, my Lord,' said I, 'we had better let the 
 subject drop.' 
 
 ' Impossible ! ' cried he, ' I cannot rest without an explana- 
 tion ! ' 
 
 And then, he obliged me to speak very openly of both the 
 letters ; but, my dear Sir, imagine my surprise, when he assured 
 me, in the most solemn manner, that far from having ever 
 written me a single line, he had never received, seen, or heard 
 of my letter ! 
 
 This subject, which caused mutual astonishment and 
 perplexity to us both, entirely engrossed us for the rest of the 
 evening ; and he made me promise to show him the letter 1 
 had received in his name to-morrow morning, that he might 
 endeavour to discover the author. 
 
 After supper, the conversation became general. 
 
 And now, my dearest Sir, may I not call for your con- 
 gratulations upon the events of this day ? a day never to be 
 recollected by me but with the most grateful joy ! I know 
 how much you are inclined to think well of Lord Orville, I 
 
 421
 
 EVELINA 
 
 cannot, therefore, apprehend that my frankness to him will 
 displease you. Perhaps the time is not very distant when 
 your Evelina's choice may receive the sanction of her best 
 friend's judgment and approbation. — which seems now all she 
 has to wish ! 
 
 In regard to the change in my situation which must first 
 take place, surely I cannot be blamed for what has passed ! 
 the partiality of Lord Orville must not only reflect honour 
 upon me, but upon all to whom I do, or may belong. 
 
 Adieu, most dear Sir. I will write again when I arrive at 
 London. 
 
 LETTER LXXVII 
 
 EVELINA IN CONTINUATION 
 
 Cliftox, Oct. 7. 
 
 You will see, my dear Sir, that I was mistaken in supposing 
 I should write no more from this place, where my residence, 
 now, seems more uncertain than ever. 
 
 This morning, during breakfast, Lord Orville took an 
 opportunity to beg me, in a low voice, to allow him a moment's 
 conversation before I left Clifton ; ' May I hope,' added he, 
 ' that you will stroll into the garden after breakfast ? ' 
 
 I made no answer, but I believe my looks gave no denial ; 
 for, indeed, I much wished to be satisfied concerning the 
 letter. The moment, therefore, that I could quit the parlour, 
 I ran upstairs for my calash ; but before I reached my room, 
 Mrs. Selwyn called after me, ' If you are going to walk, Miss 
 Anville, be so good as to bid Jenny bring down my hat, and 
 I'll accompany you.' 
 
 Very much disconcerted, I turned into the drawing-room 
 without making any answer, and there I hoped to wait unseen 
 till she had otherwise disposed of herself. But, in a few 
 minutes, the door opened, and Sir Clement Willoughby entered. 
 
 Starting at the sight of him, in rising hastily, I let drop the 
 letter which I had brought for Lord Orville's inspection, and, 
 before I could recover it, Sir Clement, springing forward, had 
 it in his hand. He was just presenting it to me, and, at the 
 
 422
 
 \: m v 
 
 ^y) M's 
 
 fir l 
 
 
 <XS r ffu!W>-lSV^ 
 
 ; 'ehementiy demanded him to return it.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 same time, inquiring after my health, when the signature 
 caught his eye, and he read aloud ' Orville.' 
 
 I endeavoured, eagerly, to snatch it from him, but he would 
 not permit me, and, holding it fast, in a passionate manner 
 exclaimed, ' Good God ! Miss Anville, is it possible you can 
 value such a letter as this ? ' 
 
 The question surprised and confounded me, and I was too 
 much ashamed to answer him ; but finding he made an attempt 
 to secure it, I prevented him, and vehemently demanded him 
 to return it: 
 
 ' Tell me first,' said he, holding it above my reach, ' tell me 
 if you have, since, received any more letters from the same 
 person ? ' 
 
 ' No, indeed,' cried I, ' never ! ' 
 
 ' And will you also, sweetest of women, promise that you 
 never will receive any more ? Say that, and you will make 
 me the happiest of men.' 
 
 ' Sir Clement,' cried I, greatly confused, ' pray give me the 
 letter.' 
 
 ' And will you not first satisfy my doubts ? — will you not 
 relieve me from the torture of the most distracting suspense ? 
 — tell me but that the detested Orville has written to you no 
 more ! ' 
 
 ' Sir Clement,' cried I, angrily, ' you have no right to make 
 any conditions, — so pray give me the letter directly.' 
 
 • Why such solicitude about this hateful letter ? can it 
 possibly deserve your eagerness ? tell me, with truth, with 
 sincerity tell me : does it really merit the least anxiety?' 
 
 ' No matter, Sir,' cried I, in great perplexity, ' the letter is 
 mine, and therefore ' 
 
 ' I must conclude, then,' said he, 'that the letter deserves 
 your utmost contempt, — but that the name of Orville is 
 sufficient to make you prize it.' 
 
 ' Sir Clement,' cried I, colouring, ' you are quite — you are 
 very much — the letter is not ' 
 
 ' O Miss Anville,' cried he, ' you blush ! — you stammer ! — 
 Great Heaven ! it is then all as I feared ! ' 
 
 ' I know not,' cried I, half frightened, ' what you mean ; 
 but I beseech you to give me the letter, and to compose your- 
 self.' 
 
 ' The letter,' cried he, gnashing his teeth, ' you shall never 
 424
 
 EVELINA 
 
 see more ! You ought to have burnt it the moment you had 
 read it ! ' And in an instant, he tore it into a thousand pieces. 
 
 Alarmed at a fury so indecently outrageous, I would have 
 run out of the room ; but he caught hold of my gown, and 
 cried, ' Not yet, not yet must you go ! I am but half-mad yet. 
 and you must stay to finish your work. Tell me, therefore, 
 does Orville know your fatal partiality ? Say yes,' added he, 
 trembling with passion, ' and I will fly you for ever ! ' 
 
 ' For Heaven's sake, Sir Clement,' cried I, ' release me ! — 
 if you do not, you will force me to call for help.' 
 
 ' Call. then,' cried he, 'inexorable and most unfeeling girl; 
 call, if you please, and bid all the world witness your triumph ; 
 but could ten worlds obey your call, I would not part from 
 you till you had answered me. Tell me, then, does Orville 
 know you love him ?' 
 
 At any other time, an inquiry so gross would have given 
 me inexpressible confusion ; but now, the wildness of his 
 manner terrified me, and I only said, 'Whatever you wish to 
 know, Sir Clement, I will tell you another time ; but for the 
 present, I entreat you to let me go ! ' 
 
 ' Enough,' cried he, ' I understand you ! — the art of Orville 
 has prevailed ; — cold, inanimate, phlegmatic as he is, you 
 have rendered him the most envied of men ! — One thing more, 
 and I have done : — -Will he marry you?' 
 
 What a question ! my cheeks glowed with indignation, and 
 I felt too proud to make any answer. 
 
 ' I see, I see how it is,' cried he, after a short pause, ' and 
 I find I am undone for ever ! ; Then, letting loose my gown, 
 he put his hand to his forehead, and walked up and down the 
 room in a hasty and agitated manner. 
 
 Though now at liberty to go, I had not the courage to leave 
 him : for his evident distress excited all my compassion. And 
 this was our situation, when Lady Louisa, Mr. Coverley, and 
 Mrs. Beaumont entered the room. 
 
 ' Sir Clement Willoughby,' said the latter, ' I beg pardon 
 for making you wait so long, but ' 
 
 She had not time for another word ; Sir Clement, too much 
 disordered to know or care what he did, snatched up his hat, 
 and, brushing hastily past her, flew downstairs, and out of the 
 house. 
 
 And with him went my sincerest pity, though I earnestly 
 
 425
 
 EVELINA 
 
 hope I shall see him no more. But what, my dear Sir, am I 
 to conclude from his strange speeches concerning the letter ? 
 does it not seem as if he was himself the author of it ? How 
 else should he be so well acquainted with the contempt it 
 merits ? Neither do I know another human being who could 
 serve any interest by such a deception. I remember, too, that 
 just as I had given my own letter to the maid, Sir Clement 
 came into the shop ; probably he prevailed upon her, by some 
 bribery, to give it to him, and afterwards, by the same means, 
 to deliver to me an answer of his own writing. Indeed I can 
 in no other manner account for this affair. Oh, Sir Clement, 
 were you not yourself unhappy, I know not how I could pardon 
 an artifice that has caused me so much uneasiness ! 
 
 His abrupt departure occasioned a kind of general 
 consternation. 
 
 ' Very extraordinary behaviour this ! ' cried Mrs. Beaumont. 
 
 'Egad,' said Mr. Coverley, 'the Baronet has a mind to tip 
 us a touch of the heroics this morning ! ' 
 
 ' I declare,' cried Lady Louisa, ' I never saw anything 
 so monstrous in my life! it's quite abominable — I fancy 
 the man's mad ; — I'm sure he has given me a shocking 
 fright ! ' 
 
 Soon after, Mrs. Selwyn came upstairs with Lord Merton. 
 The former, advancing hastily to me, said, ' Miss Anville, have 
 you an almanac ?' 
 
 « Me ! — No, Madam.' 
 
 ' Who has one, then ? ' 
 
 ' Egad,' cried Mr. Coverley, ' I never bought one in my 
 life ; it would make me quite melancholy to have such a time- 
 keeper in my pocket. I would as soon walk all day before an 
 hour-glass.' 
 
 'You are in the right,' said Mrs. Selwyn, 'not to -.catch 
 fime, lest you should be betrayed, unawares, into reflecting 
 how you employ it.' 
 
 ' Egad, Ma'am,' cried he, ' if Time thought no more of me, 
 than I do of Time, I believe I should bid defiance, for one 
 while, to old age and wrinkles, — for deuce take me if ever I 
 think about it at all.' 
 
 ' Pray, Mr. Coverley,' said Mrs. Selwyn, ' why do you think 
 it necessary to tell me this so often ? ' 
 
 ' Often ! ' repeated he, ' Egad, Madam, I don't know why I 
 426
 
 EVELINA 
 
 said it now, but I'm sure I can't recollect that ever I owned 
 as much before.' 
 
 ' Owned it before ! ' cried she, ' why, my dear Sir, you own 
 it all day long ; for every word, every look, every action 
 proclaims it.' 
 
 I know not if he understood the full severity of her satire, 
 but he only turned off with a laugh : and she then applied to 
 Mr. Lovel, and asked if he had an almanac ? 
 
 Mr. Lovel, who always looks alarmed when she addresses 
 him, with some hesitation answered, ' I assure you, Ma'am, I 
 have no manner of antipathy to an almanac — none in the 
 least — I assure you ; — I daresay I have four or five.' 
 
 ' Four or five ! — pray may I ask what use you make of so 
 many ? ' 
 
 'Use! — really, Ma'am, as to that, — I don't make any 
 particular use of them, — but one must have them to tell one 
 the day of the month, — I'm sure, else, I should never keep it 
 in my head.' 
 
 ' And does your time pass so smoothly unmarked, that, 
 without an almanac, you could not distinguish one day from 
 another ? ' 
 
 Really, Ma'am,' cried he, colouring, ' I don't see anything 
 so very particular in having a few almanacs ; other people 
 have them, I believe, as well as me.' 
 
 ' Don't be offended,' cried she, ' I have but made a little 
 digression. All I want to know is the state of the moon, for 
 if it is at the///'// I shall be saved a world of conjectures, and 
 know at once to what cause to attribute the inconsistencies I 
 have witnessed this morning. In the first place, I heard Lord 
 Orville excuse himself from going out, because he had business 
 of importance to transact at home — yet have I seen him 
 sauntering alone in the garden this half-hour. Miss Anville, 
 on the other hand, I invited to walk out with me ; and, after 
 seeking her everywhere round the house, I find her quietly 
 seated in the drawing-room. And but a view minutes since, 
 Sir Clement Willoughby, with even more than his usual polite- 
 ness, told me he was come to spend the morning here, — when, 
 just now, I met him flying downstairs as if pursued by the 
 Furies ; and, far from repeating his compliments, or making 
 any excuse, he did not even answer a question I asked him, 
 but rushed past me with the rapidity of a thief from a bailiff!' 
 
 427
 
 EVELINA 
 
 ' I protest,' said Mrs. Beaumont, ' I can't think what he 
 meant : such rudeness from a man of any family is quite 
 incomprehensible. ' 
 
 'My Lord,' cried Lady Louisa to Lord Merton, 'do you 
 know he did the same by met — I was just going to ask him 
 what was the matter, but he ran past me so quick that I 
 declare he quite dazzled my eyes. You can't think, my Lord, 
 how he frightened me ; I daresay I look as pale — don't I look 
 very pale, my Lord ? ' 
 
 'Your Ladyship,' said Mr. Lovel, 'so well becomes the 
 lillies, that the roses might blush to see themselves so 
 excelled.' 
 
 'Pray, Mr. Lovel,' said Mrs. Selwyn, 'if the roses should 
 blush, how would you find it out ? ' 
 
 ' Egad,' cried Mr. Coverley, ' I suppose they must blush, 
 as the saying is, like a blue dog, — for they are red already.' 
 
 ' Prithee, Jack,' said Lord Merton, ' don't you pretend to 
 talk about blushes, that never knew what they were in your 
 life.' 
 
 'My Lord,' said Mrs. Selwyn, 'if experience alone can 
 justify mentioning them, what an admirable treatise upon the 
 subject may we not expect from your Lordship ! ' 
 
 ' O, pray, Ma'am,' answered he, ' stick to Jack Coverley — 
 he's your only man ; for my part, I confess I have a mortal 
 aversion to arguments.' 
 
 'O fie, my Lord,' cried Mrs. Selwyn, 'a senator of the 
 nation ! a member of the noblest parliament in the world ! - 
 and yet neglect the art of oratory ? ' 
 
 'Why, faith, my Lord,' said Mr. Lovel, ' I think, in general, 
 your House is not much addicted to study ; we of the Lower 
 House have indubitably most application ; and, if I did not 
 speak before a superior power,' bowing low to Lord Merton, 
 ' I should presume to add, we have likewise the most able 
 speakers.' 
 
 'Mr. Lovel,' said Mrs. Selwyn, 'you deserve immortality 
 for that discovery ! But for this observation, and the con- 
 fession of Lord Merton, I protest 1 should have supposed that 
 a peer of the realm, and an able logician, were synonymous 
 terms.' 
 
 Lord Merton, turning upon his heel, asked Lady Louisa if 
 she should take the air before dinner ? 
 
 428
 
 EVELINA 
 
 'Really,' answered she, 'I don't know — I'm afraid it's 
 monstrous hot ; besides ' (putting her hand to her forehead), 
 ' I a'n't half well ; it's quite horrid to have such weak nerves ! 
 — the least thing in the world discomposes me : I declare, that 
 man's oddness has given me such a shock, I don't know 
 when I shall recover from it. But I'm a sad weak creature — 
 don't you think I am, my Lord ? ' 
 
 ' O, by no means,' answered he, ' your Ladyship is merely 
 delicate, — and devil take me if ever I had the least passion for 
 an Amazon.' 
 
 ' I have the honour to be quite of your Lordship's opinion,' 
 said Mr. Lovel, looking maliciously at Mrs. Selwyn, 'for I 
 have an insuperable aversion to strength, either of body or 
 mind, in a female.' 
 
 ' Faith, and so have I,' said Mr. Coverley ; 'for egad I'd as 
 soon see a woman chop wood as hear her chop logic' 
 
 ' So would every man in his senses,' said Lord Merton ; 
 ' for a woman wants nothing to recommend her but beauty and 
 good-nature ; in everything else she is either impertinent or 
 unnatural. For my part, deuce take me if ever I wish to hear 
 a word of sense from a woman as long as I live ! ' 
 
 ' It has always been agreed,' said Mrs. Selwyn, looking 
 round her with the utmost contempt, ' that no man ought to 
 be connected with a woman whose understanding is superior 
 to his own. Now, I very much fear, that to accommodate- 
 all this good company, according to such a rule, would be 
 utterly impracticable, unless we should choose subjects from 
 Swift's hospital of idiots.' 
 
 How many enemies, my dear Sir, does this unbounded 
 severity excite ! Lord Merton, however, only whistled ; Mr. 
 Coverley sang ; and Mr. Lovel, after biting his lips some time, 
 said, "Pon honour, that lady — if she was 7iot a lady, — I 
 should be half tempted to observe, — that there is something,— 
 in such severity, — that is rather, I must say, — rather — oddish.'' 
 
 Just then a servant brought Lady Louisa a note, upon a 
 waiter, which is a ceremony always used to her Ladyship ; 
 and I took the opportunity of this interruption to the conversa- 
 tion to steal out of the room. 
 
 1 went immediately to the parlour, which I found quite 
 empty ; for I did not dare walk in the garden after what Mrs. 
 Selwyn had said. 
 
 429
 
 EVELINA 
 
 In a few minutes, a servant announced Mr. Macartney, 
 saying, as he entered the room, that he would acquaint Lord 
 Orville he was there. 
 
 Mr. Macartney rejoiced much at finding me alone. He 
 told me he had taken the liberty to inquire for Lord Orville, 
 by way of pretext for coming to the house. 
 
 I then very eagerly inquired if he had seen his father. 
 
 'I have, Madam,' said he; 'and the generous compassion 
 you have shown made me hasten to acquaint you, that upon 
 reading my unhappy mother's letter, he did not hesitate to 
 acknowledge me.' 
 
 'Good God,' cried I, with no little emotion, 'how similar 
 are our circumstances ! And did he receive you kindly ? ' 
 
 ' I could not, Madam, expect that he would : the cruel 
 transaction which obliged me to fly Paris was too recent in 
 his memory.' 
 
 ' And — have you seen the young lady ? ' 
 
 ' No, Madam,' said he mournfully, ' I was forbid her sight.' 
 
 ' Forbid her sight ! — and why ? ' 
 
 ' Partly, perhaps, from prudence, and partly from the 
 remains of a resentment which will not easily subside. I only 
 requested leave to acquaint her with my relationship, and be 
 allowed to call her sister ; — but it was denied me ! — You have 
 ?io sister, said Sir John, you must forget her existence. Hard, 
 and vain command ! ' 
 
 ' You have, you have a sister ! ' cried I, from an impulse of 
 pity, which I could not repress, ' a sister who is most warmly 
 interested in your welfare, and who only wants opportunity to 
 manifest her friendship and regard.' 
 
 ' Gracious Heaven ! ' cried he, ' what does Miss Anville 
 mean ? ' 
 
 ' Anville,' said I, ' is not my real name ; Sir John Belmont 
 is my father — he is your's — and I am your sister ! You see, 
 therefore, the claim we mutually have to each other's regard ; 
 we are not merely bound by the ties of friendship but by those 
 of blood. I feel for you, already, all the affection of a sister, — 
 I felt it, indeed, before I knew I was one. Why, my dear 
 brother, do you not speak ? — do you hesitate to acknowledge 
 mc ? ' 
 
 ' I am so lost in astonishment,' cried he, ' that I know not 
 if I hear right ! ' 
 
 43°
 
 EVELINA 
 
 1 I have then found a brother,' cried I, holding out my hand, 
 ' and he will not own me ! ! 
 
 ' Own you ! — Oh, Madam,' cried he, accepting my offered 
 hand, 'is it, indeed, possible you can own me ? — a poor, 
 wretched adventurer ! who so lately had no support but from 
 your generosity ? — whom your benevolence snatched from utter 
 destruction ? Can you — Oh Madam, can you indeed, and 
 without a blush, condescend to own such an outcast for a 
 brother ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, forbear, forbear,' cried I, ' is this language proper for 
 a sister? are we not reciprocally bound to each other? Will 
 you not suffer me to expect from you all the good offices in 
 your power ? But tell me, where is our father at present ? ' 
 
 ' At the Hotwell, Madam ; he arrived there yesterday 
 morning.' 
 
 1 would have proceeded with further questions, but the 
 entrance of Lord Orville prevented me. The moment he saw 
 us he started, and would have retreated ; but, drawing my 
 hand from Mr. Macartney's, I begged him to come in. 
 
 For a few moments we were all silent, and, I believe, all in 
 equal confusion. Mr. Macartney, however, recollecting himself, 
 said, 'I hope your Lordship will forgive the liberty I have taken 
 in making use of your name ? ' 
 
 Lord Orville, rather coldly, bowed, but said nothing. 
 
 Again we were all silent, and then Mr. Macartney took 
 leave. 
 
 ' I fancy,' said Lord Orville, when he was gone, ' I have 
 shortened Mr. Macartney's visit?' 
 
 ' No, my Lord, not at all.' 
 
 ' I had presumed,' said he, with some hesitation, ' I should 
 have seen Miss Anville in the garden — but I knew not she 
 was so much better engaged.' 
 
 Before I could answer, a servant came to tell me the chaise 
 was ready, and that Mrs. Selwyn was inquiring for me. 
 
 ' I will wait on her immediately,' cried I, and away I was 
 running; but Lord Orville, stopping me, said, with gnat 
 emotion, ' Is it thus. Miss Anville, you leave me ? '' 
 
 'My Lord,' cried I, 'how can I help it ?— perhaps, soon, 
 some better opportunity may offer ' 
 
 1 Good Heaven ! ' cried he, ' do you indeed take me for a 
 Stoic ? What better opportunity may I hope for ? — is not the 
 
 43 T
 
 EVELINA 
 
 chaise come ? — are you not going ? have you even deigned to 
 tell me whither ? ' 
 
 ' My journey, my Lord, will now be deferred. Mr. 
 Macartney has brought me intelligence which renders it, at 
 present, unnecessary.' 
 
 ' Mr. Macartney,' said he, gravely, ' seems to have great 
 influence — yet he is a very young counsellor.' 
 
 ' Is it possible, my Lord, Mr. Macartney can give you the 
 least uneasiness ? ' 
 
 ' My dearest Miss Anville,' said he, taking my hand, ' I see, 
 and I adore the purity of your mind, superior as it is to all 
 little arts, and all apprehensions of suspicion ; and I should do 
 myself, as well as you, injustice, if I were capable of harbouring 
 the smallest doubts of that goodness which makes you mine 
 for ever : nevertheless, pardon me, if I own myself surprised, 
 nay, alarmed, at these frequent meetings with so young a man 
 as Mr. Macartney.' 
 
 ' My Lord,' cried I, eager to clear myself, ' Mr. Macartney 
 is my brother ! ' 
 
 ' Your brother ! you amaze me ! What strange mystery, 
 then, makes his relationship a secret ? ' 
 
 Just then, Mrs. Selwyn opened the door. ' O, you are 
 here ! ' cried she ; ' Pray, is my Lord so kind as to assist you 
 in preparing for your journey, or in retarding it ? ' 
 
 ' I should be most happy,' said Lord Orville, smiling, ' if it 
 were in my power to do the latter.'' 
 
 I then acquainted her with Mr. Macartney's communication. 
 
 She immediately ordered the chaise away, and then took me 
 into her own room to consider what should be done. 
 
 A few minutes sufficed to determine her, and she wrote the 
 following note : — ■ 
 
 'To Sir John Belmont, Bart. 
 
 ' Mrs. Selwyn presents her compliments to Sir John Belmont, 
 and, if he is at leisure, will be glad to wait on him this morning, 
 upon business of importance.' 
 
 She then ordered her man to inquire at the pump-room for 
 a direction ; and went herself to Mrs. Beaumont to apologise 
 for deferring her journey. 
 
 432
 
 EVELINA 
 
 An answer was presently returned, that he would be glad to 
 see her. 
 
 She would have had me immediately accompany her to the 
 Hotwells ; but I entreated her to spare me the distress of so 
 abrupt an introduction, and to pave the way for my reception. 
 She consented rather reluctantly, and, attended only by her 
 servant, walked to the Wells. 
 
 She was not absent two hours, yet so miserably did time 
 seem to linger, that I thought a thousand accidents had 
 happened, and feared she would never return. I passed the 
 whole time in my own room, for I was too much agitated even 
 to converse with Lord Orville. 
 
 The instant that, from my window, I saw her returning, I 
 flew downstairs, and met her in the garden. 
 
 We both walked to the arbour. 
 
 Her looks, in which disappointment and anger were ex- 
 pressed, presently announced to me the failure of her embassy. 
 Finding that she did not speak, I asked her, in a faltering 
 voice, Whether or not I had a father ? 
 
 ' You have not, my dear ! ' said she abruptly. 
 
 ' Very well, Madam,' said I, with tolerable calmness, ' let 
 the chaise, then, be ordered again, — I will go to Berry Hill, — 
 and there, I trust, I shall still find one ! ' 
 
 It was some time ere she could give, or I could hear, the 
 account of her visit ; and then she related it in a hasty manner ; 
 yet I believe I can recollect every word. 
 
 ' I found Sir John alone. He received me with the utmost 
 politeness. I did not keep him a moment in suspense as to 
 the purport of my visit. But I had no sooner made it known, 
 than, with a supercilious smile, he said, "And have you. Madam, 
 been prevailed upon to revive that ridiculous old story?" 
 Ridiculous, I told him, was a term which he would find no 
 one else do him the favour to make use of, in speaking of the 
 horrible actions belonging to the old sto ry he made so light of; 
 "actions," continued I, " which would dye still deeper the black 
 annals of Nero or Caligula." He attempted in vain to rally, 
 for 1 pursued him with all the severity in my power, and ceased 
 not painting the enormity of his crime, till I stung him to the 
 quick, and in a voice of passion and impatience, he said, " No 
 more, Madam, — this is not a subject upon which I need a 
 monitor." " Make then," cried I, "the only reparation in your 
 
 433 2 f
 
 EVELINA 
 
 power. Your daughter is now at Clifton ; send for her hither, 
 and, in the face of the world, proclaim the legitimacy of her 
 birth, and clear the reputation of your injured wife." " Madam," 
 said he, " you are much mistaken, if you suppose I waited for 
 the honour of this visit, before I did what little justice now 
 depends upon me, to the memory of that unfortunate woman : 
 her daughter has been my care from her infancy; I have taken 
 her into my house ; she bears my name, and she will be my sole 
 heiress." For some time this assertion appeared so absurd, 
 that I only laughed at it ; but at last, he assured me, I had 
 myself been imposed upon, for that the very woman who 
 attended Lady Belmont in her last illness, conveyed the child 
 to him while he was in London, before she was a year old. 
 " Unwilling," he added, "at that time to confirm the rumour of 
 my being married, I sent the woman with the child to France ; 
 as soon as she was old enough, I put her into a convent, where 
 she has been properly educated ; and now 1 have taken her 
 home. I have acknowledged her for my lawful child, and 
 paid, at length, to the memory of her unhappy mother, a 
 tribute of fame, which has made me wish to hide myself here- 
 after from all the world." This whole story sounded so im- 
 probable, that I did not scruple to tell him I discredited every 
 word. He then rung his bell, and inquiring if his hairdresser 
 was come, said he was sorry to leave me, but that, if I would 
 favour him with my company to-morrow, he would do him- 
 self the honour of introducing Miss Belmont to vie, instead 
 of troubling me to introduce her to him. I rose in great 
 indignation, and assuring him I would make his conduct as 
 public as it was infamous, I left the house.' 
 
 Good Heaven, how strange the recital ! how incompre- 
 hensible an affair ! The Miss Belmont, then, who is actually 
 at Bristol, passes for the daughter of my unhappy mother ! — 
 passes, in short, for your Evelina ! Who she can be, or what 
 this tale can mean, I have not any idea. 
 
 Mrs. Selwyn soon after left me to my own reflections. 
 Indeed they were not very pleasant. Quietly as I had borne 
 her relation, the moment I was alone I felt most bitterly 
 both the disgrace and the sorrow of a rejection so cruelly 
 inexplicable. 
 
 I know not how long I might have continued in this situa- 
 tion, had I not been awakened from my melancholy reverie by 
 
 434
 
 EVELINA 
 
 the voice of Lord Orville. 'May I come in,' cried he, 'or 
 shall I interrupt you ? ' 
 
 I was silent, and he seated himself next me. 
 
 ' I fear,' he continued, ' Miss Anville will think I persecute 
 her ; yet so much as I have to say, and so much as I wish to 
 hear, with so few opportunities for either, she cannot wonder, 
 — and I hope she will not be offended, — that I seize with such 
 avidity every moment in my power to converse with her. You 
 are grave,' added he, taking my hand ; ' I hope you do not 
 regret the delay of your journey ? — I hope the pleasure it gives 
 to me, will not be a subject of pain to you f You are silent ! 
 — Something, I am sure, has afflicted you. Would to Heaven 
 I were able to console you ! Would to Heaven I were worthy 
 to participate in your sorrows ! ' 
 
 My heart was too full to bear this kindness, and I could 
 only answer by my tears. ' Good Heaven,' cried he, ' how you 
 alarm me ! My love, my sweet Miss Anville, deny me no 
 longer to be the sharer of your griefs ! — tell me, at least, that 
 you have not withdrawn your esteem ! — that you do not repent 
 the goodness you have shown me !— that you still think me the 
 same grateful Orville whose heart you have deigned to accept ! ' 
 
 ' Oh, my Lord,' cried I, ' your generosity overpowers me ! ' 
 And I wept like an infant. For now that all my hopes of 
 being acknowledged seemed finally crushed, I felt the noble- 
 ness of his disinterested regard so forcibly, that I could scarce 
 breathe under the weight of gratitude which oppressed me. 
 
 He seemed greatly shocked, and in terms the most flattering, 
 the most respectfully tender, he at once soothed my distress, 
 and urged me to tell him its cause. 
 
 'My Lord,' said I, when I was able to speak, 'you little 
 know what an outcast you have honoured with your choice ! — 
 a child of bounty, — an orphan from infancy, — dependent, even 
 for subsistence dependent, upon the kindness of compassion ! 
 Rejected by my natural friends, — disowned for ever by my 
 nearest relation. Oh, my Lord, so circumstanced, can I 
 deserve the distinction with which you honour me ? No, no, 
 I feel the inequality too painfully ; you must leave me, my 
 Lord, you must suffer me to return to obscurity, — and there, in 
 the bosom of my first, best, my only friend, I will pour forth 
 all the grief of my heart ! — while you, my Lord, must seek 
 elsewhere ' 
 
 435
 
 EVELINA 
 
 I could not proceed ; my whole soul recoiled against the 
 charge I would have given, and my voice refused to utter it. 
 
 ' Never ! ' cried he warmly ; ' my heart is yours, and I 
 swear to you an attachment eternal ! You prepare me, indeed, 
 for a tale of horror, and I am almost breathless with expecta- 
 tion, — but so firm is my conviction, that, whatever are your 
 misfortunes, to have merited them is not of the number, that I 
 feel myself more strongly, more invincibly devoted to you than 
 ever ! — Tell me but where I may find this noble friend, whose 
 virtues you have already taught me to reverence, — and I will fly 
 to obtain his consent and intercession, that henceforward our 
 fates may be indissolubly united, — and then shall it be the sole 
 study of my life to endeavour to soften your past, — and guard 
 you from future misfortunes ! ' 
 
 I had just raised my eyes, to answer this most generous of 
 men, when the first object they met was Mrs. Selwyn ! 
 
 ' So, my dear,' cried she, ' what, still courting the rural 
 shades ! I thought ere now you would have been satiated 
 with this retired seat, and I have been seeking you all over the 
 house. But I find the only way to meet with you, — is to 
 inquire for Lord Orville. However, don't let me disturb your 
 meditations ; you are possibly planning some pastoral dialogue. 
 
 And, with this provoking speech, she walked on. 
 
 In the greatest confusion, I was quitting the arbour, when 
 Lord Orville said, ' Permit me to follow Mrs. Selwyn, — it is 
 time to put an end to all impertinent conjectures ; will you 
 allow me to speak to her openly ? ' 
 
 I assented in silence, and he left me. 
 
 I then went to my own room, where I continued till I was 
 summoned to dinner ; after which, Mrs. Selwyn invited me to 
 hers. 
 
 The moment she had shut the door, ' Your Ladyship,' said 
 she, ' will, I hope, be seated.' 
 
 ' Ma'am ! ' cried I, staring. 
 
 ' O the sweet innocent ! So you don't know what I mean ? 
 — but, my dear, my sole view is to accustom you a little to 
 your dignity elect, lest, when you are addressed by your title, 
 you should look another way, from an apprehension of listening 
 to a discourse not meant for you to hear.' 
 
 Having, in this manner, diverted herself with my confusion, 
 till her raillery was almost exhausted, she congratulated me 
 
 43 6
 
 EVELINA 
 
 very seriously upon the partiality of Lord Orville, and painted 
 to me, in the strongest terms, his disinterested desire of being 
 married to me immediately. She had told him, she said, my 
 whole story ; and yet he was willing, nay eager, that our union 
 should take place of any further application to my family. 
 ' Now, my dear,' continued she, ' I advise you by all means to 
 marry him directly ; nothing can be more precarious than our 
 success with Sir John ; and the young men of this age are not 
 to be trusted with too much time for deliberation, where their 
 interests are concerned.' 
 
 ' Good God, Madam, cried I, ' do you think I would hurry 
 Lord Orville ? ' 
 
 ' Well, do as you will,' said she ; ' luckily you have an 
 excellent subject for Quixotism ; — otherwise this delay might 
 prove your ruin : but Lord Orville is almost as romantic as if 
 he had been born and bred at Berry Hill.' 
 
 She then proposed, as no better expedient seemed likely to 
 be suggested, that I should accompany her at once in her visit 
 to the Hotwells to-morrow morning. 
 
 The very idea made me tremble ; yet she represented so 
 strongly the necessity of pursuing this unhappy affair with 
 spirit, or giving it totally up, that, wanting her force of 
 argument, I was almost obliged to yield to her proposal. 
 
 In the evening, we all walked in the garden : and Lord 
 Orville, who never quitted my side, told me he had been 
 listening to a tale which, though it had removed the per- 
 plexities that had so long tormented him, had penetrated him 
 with sorrow and compassion. I acquainted him with Mrs. 
 Selwyn's plan for to-morrow, and confessed the extreme terror 
 it gave me. He then, in a manner almost unanswerable, 
 besought me to leave to him the conduct of the affair, by 
 consenting to be his before an interview took place. 
 
 I could not but acknowledge my sense of his generosity ; 
 but I told him I was wholly dependent upon you, and that I 
 was certain your opinion would be the same as mine, which 
 was, that it would be highly improper I should dispose of 
 myself for ever, so very near the time which must finally 
 decide by whose authority I ought to be guided. The subject 
 of this dreaded meeting, with the thousand conjectures and 
 apprehensions to which it gives birth, employed all our con- 
 versation then, as it has all my thoughts since. 
 
 437
 
 EVELINA 
 
 Heaven only knows how I shall support myself, when the 
 long-expected, — the wished, — yet terrible moment arrives, that 
 will prostrate me at the feet of the nearest, the most reverenced 
 of all relations, whom my heart yearns to know, and longs to 
 love ! 
 
 LETTER LXXVIII 
 
 EVELINA IN CONTINUATION 
 
 Oct. 9. 
 
 I could not write yesterday, so violent was the agitation of 
 my mind, — but I will not now lose a moment till I have 
 hastened to my best friend an account of the transactions of a 
 day I can never recollect without emotion. 
 
 Mrs. Selwyn determined upon sending no message, ' Lest,' 
 said she, ' Sir John, fatigued with the very idea of my re- 
 proaches, should endeavour to avoid a meeting : all we have 
 to do is to take him by surprise. He cannot but see who you 
 are, whether he will do you justice or not.' 
 
 We went early, and in Mrs. Beaumont's chariot ; into 
 which Lord Orville, uttering words of the kindest encourage- 
 ment, handed us both. 
 
 My uneasiness during the ride was excessive ; but when 
 we stopped at the door, I was almost senseless with terror ! 
 the meeting, at last, was not so dreadful as that moment ! I 
 believe I was carried into the house ; but I scarce recollect 
 what was done with me : however, I know we remained some 
 time in the parlour, before Mrs. Selwyn could send any message 
 upstairs. 
 
 When I was somewhat recovered, I entreated her to let 
 me return home, assuring her I felt myself quite unequal to 
 supporting the interview. 
 
 ' No,' said she, ' you must stay now ; your fears will but 
 gain strength by delay, and we must not have such a shock 
 as this repeated.' Then, turning to the servant, she sent up 
 her name. 
 
 An answer was brought, that he was going out in great 
 haste, but would attend her immediately. I turned so sick, 
 that Mrs. Selwyn was apprehensive I should have fainted ; 
 and opening a door which led to an inner apartment, she 
 
 438
 
 EVELINA 
 
 begged me to wait there till I was somewhat composed, and 
 till she had prepared for my reception. 
 
 Glad of every moment's reprieve, I willingly agreed to the 
 proposal, and Mrs. Selwyn had but just time to shut me in, 
 before her presence was necessary. 
 
 The voice of a father — O dear and revered name ! — which 
 then, for the first time, struck my ears, affected me in a 
 manner I cannot describe, though it was only employed in 
 giving orders to a servant as he came downstairs. 
 
 Then, entering the parlour, I heard him say, ' I am sorry, 
 Madam, I made you wait, but I have an engagement which 
 now calls me away : however, if you have any commands for 
 me, I shall be glad of the honour of your company some other 
 time.' 
 
 'I am come, Sir,' said Mrs. Selwyn, 'to introduce your 
 daughter to you.' 
 
 ' I am infinitely obliged to you,' answered he, ' but I have 
 just had the satisfaction of breakfasting with her. Ma'am, 
 your most obedient.' 
 
 ' You refuse, then, to see her ? ' 
 
 ' I am much indebted to you, Madam, for this desire of 
 increasing my family, but you must excuse me if I decline 
 taking advantage of it. I have already a daughter, to whom 
 I owe everything ; and it is not three days since, that I had 
 the pleasure of discovering a son ; how many more sons and 
 daughters may be brought to me, I am yet to learn, but I am 
 already perfectly satisfied with the size of my family.' 
 
 ' Had you a thousand children, Sir John,' said Mrs. Selwyn 
 warmly, ' this only one, of which Lady Belmont was the 
 mother, ought to be most distinguished ; and, far from avoid- 
 ing her sight, you should thank your stars, in humble gratitude, 
 that there yet remains in your power the smallest opportunity 
 of doing the injured wife you have destroyed, the poor justice 
 of acknowledging her child ! ' 
 
 ' I am very unwilling, Madam,' answered he, 'to enter into 
 any discussion of this point ; but you are determined to 
 compel me to speak. There lives not, at this time, the 
 human being who should talk to me of the regret due to the 
 memory of that ill-fated woman ; no one can feel it so severely 
 as myself: but let me, nevertheless, assure you, I have already 
 done all that remained in my power to prove tin r< pect she 
 
 439
 
 EVELINA 
 
 merited from me ; her child I have educated and owned for 
 my lawful heiress ; if, Madam, you can suggest to me any 
 other means by which I may more fully do her justice, and 
 more clearly manifest her innocence, name them to me, and 
 though they should wound my character still deeper, I will 
 perform them readily.' 
 
 'All this sounds vastly well,' returned Mrs. Selwyn, 'but I 
 must own it is rather too enigmatical for my faculties of com- 
 prehension. You can, however, have no objection to seeing 
 this young lady ? ' 
 
 ' None in the world.' 
 
 ' Come forth, then, my dear,' cried she, opening the door, 
 ' come forth, and see your father ! ' Then, taking my trembling 
 hand, she led me forward. I would have withdrawn it, and 
 retreated, but as he advanced instantly towards me, I found 
 myself already before him. 
 
 What a moment for your Evelina ! — an involuntary scream 
 escaped me, and, covering my face with my hands, I sunk on 
 the floor. 
 
 He had, however, seen me first ; for in a voice scarce 
 articulate, he exclaimed, ' My God ! does Caroline Evelyn 
 still live!' 
 
 Mrs. Selwyn said something, but I could not listen to her; 
 and, in a few minutes, he added, ' Lift up thy head, — if my 
 sight has not blasted thee, — lift up thy head, thou image of 
 my long-lost Caroline ! ' 
 
 Affected beyond measure, I half arose, and embraced his 
 knees, while yet on my own. 
 
 ' Yes, yes,' cried he, looking earnestly in my face, ' I see, 
 I see thou art her child ! she lives — she breathes — she is 
 present to my view ! Oh God, that she indeed lived ! Go, 
 child, go,' added he, wildly starting, and pushing me from 
 him ; ' take her away, Madam, — I cannot bear to look at her ! ' 
 And then, breaking hastily from me, he rushed out of the 
 room. 
 
 Speechless, motionless myself, I attempted not to stop 
 him : but Mrs. Selwyn, hastening after him, caught hold of 
 his arm. ' Leave me, Madam,' cried he, with quickness, 'and 
 take care of the poor child ; — bid her not think me unkind, 
 tell her I would at this moment plunge a dagger in my heart 
 to serve her, — but she has set my brain on fire, and I can 
 
 440
 
 ^tJ. 
 
 I found myself already before him.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 see her no more ! ' Then, with a violence almost frantic, he 
 ran upstairs. 
 
 Oh, Sir, had I not indeed cause to dread this interview ? — 
 an interview so unspeakably painful and afflicting to us both ! 
 Mrs. Selwyn would have immediately returned to Clifton ; but 
 I entreated her to wait some time, in the hope that my un- 
 happy father, when his first emotion was over, would again 
 bear me in his sight. However, he soon after sent his servant 
 to inquire how I did, and to tell Mrs. Selwyn he was much 
 indisposed, but would hope for the honour of seeing her to- 
 morrow, at any time she would please to appoint. 
 
 She fixed upon ten o'clock in the morning ; and then, with 
 a heavy heart, I got into the chariot. Those afflicting words, 
 / can see her no more, were never a moment absent from my 
 mind. 
 
 Yet the sight of Lord Orville, who handed us from the 
 carriage, gave some relief to the sadness of my thoughts. I 
 could not, however, enter upon the painful subject, but begging 
 Mrs. Selwyn to satisfy him, I went to my own room. 
 
 As soon as I communicated to the good Mrs. Clinton the 
 present situation of my affairs, an idea occurred to her, which 
 seemed to clear up all the mystery of my having been so long 
 disowned. 
 
 The woman, she says, who attended my ever-to-be-regretted 
 mother in her last illness, and who nursed me the first four 
 months of my life, soon after being discharged from your 
 house, left Berry Hill entirely, with her baby, who was but 
 six weeks older than myself. Mrs. Clinton remembers, that 
 her quitting the place appeared, at the time, very extraordinary 
 to the neighbours, but, as she was never heard of afterwards, 
 she was, by degrees, quite forgotten. 
 
 The moment this was mentioned, it struck Mrs. Selwyn, 
 as well as Mrs. Clinton herself, that my father had been 
 imposed upon, and that the nurse who said she had brought 
 his child to him, had, in fact, carried her own. 
 
 The name by which I was known, the secrecy observed in 
 regard to my family, and the retirement in which I lived, all 
 conspired to render this scheme, however daring and fraudulent, 
 by no means impracticable, and, in short, the idea was no 
 sooner started, than conviction seemed to follow it. 
 
 Mrs. Selwyn determined immediately to discover the truth 
 442
 
 EVELINA 
 
 or mistake of this conjecture ; therefore, the moment she had 
 dined, she walked to the Hotwells, attended by Mrs. Clinton. 
 
 I waited in my room till her return, and then heard the 
 following account of her visit : — 
 
 She found my poor father in great agitation. She im- 
 mediately informed him of the occasion of her so speedy 
 return, and of her suspicions of the woman who had pretended 
 to convey to him his child. Interrupting her with quickness, 
 he said he had just sent her from his presence : that the 
 certainty I carried in my countenance, of my real birth, made 
 him, the moment he had recovered from a surprise which had 
 almost deprived him of reason, suspect, himself, the imposition 
 she mentioned. He had, therefore, sent for the woman, and 
 questioned her with the utmost austerity : she turned pale, and 
 was extremely embarrassed, but still she persisted in affirming 
 that she had really brought him the daughter of Lady Belmont. 
 His perplexity, he said, almost distracted him ; he had always 
 observed that his daughter bore no resemblance to either of 
 her parents, but, as he had never doubted the veracity of the 
 nurse, this circumstance did not give birth to any suspicion. 
 
 At Mrs. Selwyn's desire, the woman was again called, and 
 interrogated with equal art and severity ; her confusion was 
 evident, and her answers often contradictory, yet she still 
 declared she was no impostor. ' We will see that in a minute,' 
 said Mrs. Selwyn, and then desired Mrs. Clinton might be 
 called upstairs. The poor wretch, changing colour, would 
 have escaped out of the room, but, being prevented, dropt on 
 her knees, and implored forgiveness. A confession of the 
 whole affair was then extorted from her. 
 
 Doubtless, my dear Sir, you must remember Dame Greoi, 
 who was my first nurse. The deceit she has practised was 
 suggested, she says, by a conversation she overheard, in 
 which my unhappy mother besought you that, if her child 
 survived her, you would take the sole care of its education ; 
 and, in particular, if it should be a female, you would by no 
 means part with her in early life. You not only consented, 
 she says, but assured her you would even retire abroad with 
 me yourself, if my father should importunately demand me. 
 Her own child, she said, was then in her arms, and she could 
 not forbear wishing it were possible to give her the fortune 
 which seemed so little valued for me. This wish once raisi d, 
 
 443
 
 EVELINA 
 
 was not easily suppressed ; on the contrary, what at first 
 appeared a mere idle desire, in a short time seemed a feasible 
 scheme. Her husband was dead, and she had little regard 
 for anybody but her child ; and, in short, having saved money 
 for the journey, she contrived to inquire a direction to my 
 father, and telling her neighbours she was going to settle in 
 Devonshire, she set out on her expedition. 
 
 When Mrs. Selwyn asked her how she dared perpetrate 
 such a fraud, she protested she had no ill designs ; but that, 
 as Miss would be never the worse for it, she thought it pity 
 nobody should be the better. 
 
 Her success we are already acquainted with. Indeed 
 everything seemed to contribute towards it : my father had no 
 correspondent at Berry Hill ; the child was instantly sent to 
 France, where, being brought up in as much retirement as 
 myself, nothing but accident could discover the fraud. 
 
 And here, let me indulge myself in observing, and rejoicing 
 to observe, that the total neglect I thought I met with was 
 not the effect of insensibility or unkindness, but of imposition 
 and error ; and that at the very time we concluded I was un- 
 naturally rejected, my deluded father meant to show me most 
 favour and protection. 
 
 He acknowledges that Lady Howard's letter flung him into 
 some perplexity ; he immediately communicated it to Dame 
 Green, who confessed it was the greatest shock she had ever 
 received in her life ; yet she had the art and boldness to assert, 
 that Lady Howard must herself have been deceived : and as 
 she had, from the beginning of her enterprise, declared she had 
 stolen away the child without your knowledge, he concluded 
 that some deceit was then intended him : and this thought 
 occasioned his abrupt answer. 
 
 Dame Green owned, that from the moment the journey to 
 England was settled, she gave herself up for lost. All her hope 
 was to have had her daughter married before it took place, 
 for which reason she had so much promoted Mr. Macartney's 
 addresses : for though such a match was inadequate to the 
 pretensions of Miss Belmont, she well knew it was far superior 
 to those her daughter could form, after the discovery of her 
 birth. 
 
 My first inquiry was, if this innocent daughter was yet 
 acquainted with the affair? No, Mrs. Selwyn said, nor was 
 
 444
 
 EVELINA 
 
 any plan settled how to divulge it to her. Poor unfortunate 
 girl ! how hard is her fate ! She is entitled to my kindest 
 offices, and I shall always consider her as my sister. 
 
 I then asked whether my father would again allow me to 
 see him ? 
 
 'Why no, my dear, not yet,' answered she; 'he declares 
 the sight of you is too much for him : however, we are to settle 
 everything concerning you to-morrow, for this woman took up 
 all our time to-day.' 
 
 This morning, therefore, she is again gone to the Hotwells. 
 I am waiting in all impatience for her return ; but as I know 
 you will be anxious for the account this letter contains, I will 
 not delay sending it. 
 
 LETTER LXXIX 
 
 EVELINA IN CONTINUATION 
 
 Oct. 9. 
 
 How agitated, my dear Sir, is the present life of your 
 Evelina ! every day seems important, and one event only a 
 prelude to another. 
 
 Mrs. Selwyn, upon her return this morning from the Hot- 
 wells, entering my room very abruptly, said, ' Oh my dear, I 
 have terrible news for you '. ' 
 
 ' For me, Ma'am ! — Good God ! what now ? ' 
 
 'Arm yourself,' cried she, 'with all your Berry Hill 
 philosophy ; — con over every lesson of fortitude or resignation 
 you ever learnt in your life, — for know, — you are next week to 
 be married to Lord Orville ! ' 
 
 Doubt, astonishment, and a kind of perturbation I cannot 
 describe, made this abrupt communication alarm me extremely, 
 and, almost breathless, I could only exclaim, ' Good God, 
 Madam, what do you tell me ? ' 
 
 ' You may well be frightened, my dear,' said she ironically, 
 ' for really there is something mighty terrific in becoming, at 
 once, the wife of the man you adore, — and a Countess ! ' 
 
 I entreated her to spare her raillery, and tell me her real 
 meaning. She could not prevail with herself to grant the first 
 request, though she readily complied with the second. 
 
 445
 
 EVELINA 
 
 My poor father, she said, was still in the utmost uneasiness. 
 He entered upon his affairs with great openness, and told her 
 he was equally disturbed how to dispose either of the daughter 
 he had discovered, or the daughter he was now to give up ; the 
 former he dreaded to trust himself with again beholding, and 
 the latter he knew not how to shock with the intelligence of 
 her disgrace. Mrs. Selwyn then acquainted him with my 
 situation in regard to Lord Orville ; this delighted him ex- 
 tremely, and, when he heard of his Lordship's eagerness, he 
 said he was himself of opinion, the sooner the union took place 
 the better : and, in return, he informed her of the affair of Mr. 
 Macartney. ' And, after a very long conversation,' continued 
 Mrs. Selwyn, 'we agreed that the most eligible scheme for all 
 parties would be to have both the real and the fictitious daughter 
 married without delay. Therefore, if either of you have any 
 inclination to pull caps for the title of Miss Belmont, you must 
 do it with all speed, as next week will take from both of you 
 all pretensions to it.' 
 
 ' Next week ! — dear Madam, what a strange plan ! — without 
 my being consulted — without applying to Mr. Villars, — without 
 even the concurrence of Lord Orville ! ' 
 
 ' As to consulting yon, my dear, it was out of all question, 
 because, you know, young ladies' hearts and hands are always 
 to be given with reluctance ; as to Mr. Villars, it is sufficient 
 we know him for your friend ; and as for Lord Orville, he is 
 a party concerned.' 
 
 ' A party concerned ! — you amaze me ! ' 
 
 ' Why, yes ; for as I found our consultation likely to redound 
 to his advantage, I persuaded Sir John to send for him.' 
 
 ' Send for him ! — Good God ! ' 
 
 ' Yes, and Sir John agreed. I told the servant, that if he 
 could not hear of his Lordship in the house, he might be pretty 
 certain of encountering him in the arbour. — Why do you colour, 
 my dear ? — Well, he was with us in a moment ; I introduced 
 him to Sir John, and we proceeded to business.' 
 
 ' I am very, very sorry for it ! — Lord Orville must, himself, 
 think this conduct strangely precipitate.' 
 
 ' No, my dear, you are mistaken, Lord Orville has too much 
 good sense. Everything was then discussed in a rational 
 manner. You are to be married privately, though not secretly, 
 and then go to one of his Lordship's country seats : and poor 
 
 446
 
 EVELINA 
 
 little Miss Green and your brother, who have no house of their 
 own, must go to one of Sir John's.' 
 
 ' But why, my dear Madam, why all this haste ? why may 
 we not be allowed a little longer time ? ' 
 
 ' I could give you a thousand reasons,' answered she, ' but 
 that I am tolerably certain two or three will be more than you 
 can controvert, even with all the logic of genuine coquetry. In 
 the first place, you doubtless wish to quit the house of Mrs. 
 Beaumont, — to whose, then, can you with such propriety re- 
 move, as to Lord Orville's ? ' 
 
 ' Surely, Madam,' cried I, ' I am not more destitute now, 
 than when I thought myself an orphan?' 
 
 ' Your father, my dear,' answered she, ' is willing to save the 
 little impostor as much of the mortification of her disgrace as is 
 in his power : now if you immediately take her place, according 
 to your right, as Miss Belmont, why, not all that either of you 
 can do for her will prevent her being eternally stigmatised 
 as the Bantling of Dame Green, wash-woman and wet-nurse of 
 Berry Hill, Dorsetshire. Now such a genealogy will not be 
 very flattering, even to Mr. Macartney, who, all-dismal as he 
 is, you will find by no means wanting in pride and self- 
 consequence.' 
 
 'For the universe,' interrupted I, ' I would not be accessary 
 to the degradation you mention ; but surely, Madam, I may 
 return to Berry Hill?' 
 
 ' By no means,' said she; ' for though compassion may make 
 us wish to save the poor girl the confusion of an immediate and 
 public fall, yet justice demands you should appear, henceforward, 
 in no other light than that of Sir John Belmont's daughter. 
 Besides, between friends, I, who know the world, can see that 
 half this prodigious delicacy for the little usurper is the mere 
 result of self-interest ; for while her affairs are hushed up, Sir 
 John's, you know, are kept from being brought further to light. 
 Now, the double marriage we have projected obviates all 
 rational objections. Sir John will give you, immediately, 
 ,£30,000 ; all settlements, and so forth, will be made for you 
 in the name of Evelina Belmont ; — Mr. Macartney will, at the 
 same time, take poor Polly Green, — and yet, at first, it will 
 only be generally known that a daughter of Sir Joh?i Belmont's 
 is married.' 
 
 In this manner, though she did not convince me, yet the 
 
 447
 
 EVELINA 
 
 quickness of her arguments silenced and perplexed me. I 
 inquired, however, if I might not be permitted to again see 
 my father, or whether I must regard myself as banished his 
 presence for ever ? 
 
 ' My dear,' said she, 'he does not know you ; he concludes 
 that you have been brought up to detest him, and therefore he 
 is rather prepared to dread, than to love you.' 
 
 This answer made me very unhappy ; I wished, most im- 
 patiently, to remove his prejudice, and endeavour, by dutiful 
 assiduity, to engage his kindness, yet knew not how to propose 
 seeing him, while conscious he wished to avoid me. 
 
 This evening, as soon as the company was engaged with 
 cards, Lord Orville exerted his utmost eloquence to reconcile 
 me to this hasty plan : but how was I startled, when he told 
 me that next Tuesday was the day appointed by my father to 
 be the most important of my life ! 
 
 1 Next Tuesday ! ' repeated I, quite out of breath. ' Oh, my 
 Lord ! ' 
 
 ' My sweet Evelina,' said he, ' the day which will make me 
 the happiest of mortals, would probably appear awful to you, 
 were it to be deferred a twelvemonth : Mrs. Selwyn has, 
 doubtless, acquainted you with the many motives which, 
 independent of my eagerness, require it to be speedy ; suffer, 
 therefore, its acceleration, and generously complete my felicity, 
 by endeavouring to suffer it without repugnance.' 
 
 ' Indeed, my Lord, I would not wilfully raise objections, 
 nor do I desire to appear insensible of the honour of your good 
 opinion ; — but there is something in this plan, so very hasty, — 
 so unreasonably precipitate, — besides, I shall have no time to 
 hear from Berry Hill, — and believe me, my Lord, I should be 
 for ever miserable, were I, in an affair so important, to act 
 without the sanction of Mr. Yillars' advice.' 
 
 He offered to wait on you himself; but I told him I had 
 rather write to you. And then he proposed that, instead of 
 my immediately accompanying him to Lincolnshire, we should 
 first pass a month at my native Berry Hill. 
 
 This was, indeed, a grateful proposal to me, and I listened 
 to it with undisguised pleasure. And, — in short, I was 
 obliged to consent to a compromise, in merely deferring the 
 day till Thursday ! He readily undertook to engage my father's 
 concurrence in this little delay, and I besought him, at the 
 
 448
 
 EVELINA 
 
 same time, to make use of his influence to obtain me a second 
 interview, and to represent the deep concern I felt in being 
 thus banished his sight. 
 
 He would then have spoken of settlements, but I assured 
 him I was almost ignorant even of the word. 
 
 And now, my dearest Sir, what is your opinion of these 
 hasty proceedings ? believe me, I half regret the simple 
 facility with which I have suffered myself to be hurried into 
 compliance, and, should you start but the smallest objection, I 
 will yet insist upon being allowed more time. 
 
 I must now write a concise account of the state of my 
 affairs to Howard Grove, and to Madame Duval. 
 
 Adieu, dearest and most honoured Sir ! everything, at 
 present, depends upon your single decision, to which, though 
 I yield in trembling, I yield implicitly. 
 
 LETTER LXXX 
 
 EVELINA IN CONTINUATION 
 
 Oct. ii. 
 
 Yesterday morning, as soon as breakfast was over, Lord 
 Orville went to the Hotwells, to wait upon my father with my 
 double petition. 
 
 Mrs. Beaumont then, in general terms, proposed a walk in 
 the garden. Mrs. Selwyn said she had letters to write, but 
 Lady Louisa arose to accompany her. 
 
 I had had some reason to imagine, from the notice with 
 which her Ladyship had honoured me during breakfast, that 
 her brother had acquainted her with my present situation : 
 and her behaviour now confirmed my conjecture ; for, when I 
 would have gone upstairs, instead of suffering me, as usual, to 
 pass disregarded, she called after me with an affected surprise, 
 • Miss Anville, don't you walk with us ? ' 
 
 There seemed something- so little -minded in this sudden 
 change of conduct, that, from an involuntary motion of con- 
 tempt, I thanked her, with a coldness like her own, and 
 declined her offer. Yet, observing that she blushed extremely 
 at my refusal, and recollecting she was sister to Lord Orville, 
 
 440 2 G
 
 1 Afiss Anville, don t you walk with us ? '
 
 EVELINA 
 
 my indignation subsided, and upon Mrs. Beaumont's repeating 
 the invitation, I accepted it. 
 
 Our walk proved extremely dull. Mrs. Beaumont, who 
 never says much, was more silent than usual ; Lady Louisa 
 strove in vain to lay aside the restraint and distance she has 
 hitherto preserved ; and as to me, I was too conscious of the 
 circumstances to which I owed their attention, to feel either 
 pride or pleasure from receiving it. 
 
 Lord Orville was not long absent ; he joined us in the 
 garden with a look of gaiety and good-humour that revived us 
 all. ' You are just the party,' said he, ' I wished to see 
 together. Will you, Madam,' taking my hand, 'allow me the 
 honour of introducing you, by your real name, to two of my 
 nearest relations ? Mrs. Beaumont, give me leave to present 
 to you the daughter of Sir John Belmont, a young lady who, 
 I am sure, must long since have engaged your esteem and 
 admiration, though you were a stranger to her birth.' 
 
 ' My Lord,' said Mrs. Beaumont, graciously saluting me, 
 'the young lady's rank in life, your Lordship's recommenda- 
 tion, or her own merit, would any one of them have been 
 sufficient to have entitled her to my regard ; and I hope she 
 has always met with that respect in my house which is so 
 much her due ; though, had I been sooner made acquainted 
 with her family, I should, doubtless, have better known how 
 to have secured it.' 
 
 ' Miss Belmont,' said Lord Orville, ' can receive no lustre 
 from family, whatever she may give to it. Louisa, you will, 
 I am sure, be happy to make yourself an interest in the friend- 
 ship of Miss Belmont, whom 1 hope shortly,' kissing my hand, 
 and joining it with her Ladyship's, ' to have the happiness of 
 presenting to you by yet another name, and by the most 
 endearing of all titles.' 
 
 I believe it would be difficult to say whose cheeks were, at 
 that moment, of the deepest dye, Lady Louisa's or my own ; 
 for the conscious pride with which she has hitherto slighted 
 me, gave to her an embarrassment which equalled the confusion 
 that an introduction so unexpected gave to me. She saluted 
 me, however, and, with a faint smile, said, ' I shall esteem 
 myself very happy to profit by the honour of Miss Belmont's 
 acquaintance.' 
 
 I only curtsied, and we walked on ; but it was evident, 
 
 45 1
 
 EVELINA 
 
 from the little surprise they expressed, that they had •been 
 already informed of the state of the affair. 
 
 We were, soon after, joined by more company : and Lord 
 Orville then, in a low voice, took an opportunity to tell me the 
 success of his visit. In the first place, Thursday was agreed 
 to ; and, in the second, my father, he said, was much concerned 
 to hear of my uneasiness, sent me his blessing, and complied 
 with my request of seeing him, with the same readiness he 
 should agree to any other I could make. Lord Orville, there- 
 fore, settled that I should wait upon him in the evening, and, 
 at his particular request, unaccompanied by Mrs. Selwyn. 
 
 This kind message, and the prospect of so soon seeing him, 
 gave me sensations of mixed pleasure and pain, which wholly 
 occupied my mind till the time of my going to the Hotwell. 
 
 Mrs. Beaumont lent me her chariot, and Lord Orville 
 absolutely insisted upon attending me. ' If you go alone,' 
 said he, ' Mrs. Selwyn will certainly be offended ; but, if you 
 allow me to conduct you, though she may give the freer scope 
 to her raillery, she cannot possibly be affronted : and we had 
 much better suffer her laughter than provoke her satire.' 
 
 Indeed, I must own I had no reason to regret being so 
 accompanied ; for his conversation supported my spirits from 
 drooping, and made the ride seem so short that we actually 
 stopped at my father's door before I knew we had proceeded 
 ten yards. 
 
 He handed me from the carriage, and conducted me to the 
 parlour, at the door of which I was met by Mr. Macartney. 
 ' Ah, my dear brother,' cried I, ' how happy am I to see you 
 here ! ' 
 
 He bowed and thanked me. Lord Orville, then, holding 
 out his hand, said, ' Mr. Macartney, I hope we shall be better 
 acquainted ; I promise myself much pleasure from cultivating 
 your friendship.' 
 
 'Your Lordship does me but too much honour,' answered 
 Mr. Macartney. 
 
 ' But where,' cried I, ' is my sister ? for so I must already 
 call, and always consider her : I am afraid she avoids me ; — 
 you must endeavour, my dear brother, to prepossess her in my 
 favour, and reconcile her to owning me.' 
 
 ' Oh Madam,' cried he, ' you are all goodness and 
 benevolence ! but at present I hope you will excuse her, for I 
 
 452
 
 EVELINA 
 
 fear she has hardly fortitude sufficient to see you : in a short 
 time, perhaps ' 
 
 ' In a very short time, then/ said Lord Orville, ' I hope 
 you will yourself introduce her, and that we shall have the 
 pleasure of wishing you both joy : allow me, my Evelina, to 
 say lue, and permit me, in your name as well as my own, to 
 entreat that the first guests we shall have the happiness of 
 receiving may be Mr. and Mrs. Macartney.' 
 
 A servant then came to beg I would walk upstairs. 
 
 I besought Lord Orville to accompany me ; but he feared 
 the displeasure of Sir John, who had desired to see me alone. 
 He led me, however, to the foot of the stairs, and made the 
 kindest efforts to give me courage ; but indeed he did not 
 succeed, for the interview appeared to me in all its terrors, 
 and left me no feeling but apprehension. 
 
 The moment I reached the landing-place, the drawing-room 
 door was opened, and my father, with a voice of kindness, 
 called out, ' My child, is it you ?' 
 
 'Yes, Sir,' cried I, springing forward, and kneeling at his 
 feet, ' it is your child, if you will own her ! ' 
 
 He knelt by my side, and folding me in his arms, ' Own 
 thee!' repeated he, 'yes, my poor girl, and Heaven knows 
 with what bitter contrition ! ' Then raising both himself and 
 me, he brought me into the drawing-room, shut the door, and 
 took me to the window, where, looking at me with great 
 earnestness, ' Poor unhappy Caroline ! ' cried he, and, to my 
 inexpressible concern, he burst into tears. Need I tell you, 
 my dear Sir, how mine flowed at the sight ? 
 
 I would again have embraced his knees ; but, hurrying 
 from me, he flung himself upon a sofa, and leaning his face 
 on his arms, seemed for some time absorbed in bitterness of 
 grief. 
 
 I ventured not to interrupt a sorrow I so much respected, 
 but waited in silence, and at a distance, till he recovered from 
 its violence. But then it seemed, in a moment, to give way to 
 a kind of frantic fury ; for, starting suddenly, with a sterness 
 which at once surprised and frightened me. ' Child,' cried he, 
 'hast thou yet sufficiently humbled thy father? if thou hast, 
 be contented with this proof of my weakness, and no longei 
 force thyself into my presence!' 
 
 Thunderstruck by a command so unexpected, I stood still 
 
 453
 
 EVELINA 
 
 and speechless, and doubted whether my own ears did not 
 deceive me. 
 
 'Oh, go, go!' cried he, passionately, 'in pity — in com- 
 passion, — if thou valuest my senses, leave me, — and for ever ! : 
 
 ' I will, I will,' cried I, greatly terrified ; and I moved 
 hastily towards the door : yet stopping when I reached it, 
 and, almost involuntarily, dropping on my knees, 'Vouchsafe,' 
 cried I, ' oh, .Sir, vouchsafe but once to bless your daughter, 
 and her sight shall never more offend you ! ' 
 
 ' Alas,' cried he, in a softened voice, ' I am not worthy to 
 bless thee ! — I am not worthy to call thee daughter ! — I am 
 not worthy that the fair light of heaven should visit my eyes ! 
 —Oh God ! that I could but call back the time ere thou wast 
 born, or else bury its remembrance in eternal oblivion ! ' 
 
 ' Would to Heaven,' cried I, ' that the sight of me were less 
 terrible to you ! that instead of irritating, I could soothe your 
 sorrows ! — Oh, Sir, how thankfully would I then prove my 
 duty, even at the hazard of my life ! ' 
 
 ' Are you so kind ? ' cried he, gently ; ' come hither, child, 
 — rise, Evelina ; alas, it is for me to kneel, not you — and I 
 would kneel, — I would crawl upon the earth, — I would kiss 
 the dust, — could I, by such submission, obtain the forgiveness 
 of the representative of the most injured of women ! ' 
 
 'Oh, Sir,' exclaimed I, 'that you could but read my heart ! 
 ■ — that you could but see the filial tenderness and concern with 
 which it overflows ! — you would not then talk thus, — you would 
 not then banish me your presence, and exclude me from your 
 affection ! ' 
 
 ' Good God ! ' cried he, ' is it then possible that you do not 
 hate me ? — Can the child of the wronged Caroline look at, and 
 not execrate me ? Wast thou not born to abhor, and bred to 
 curse me ? did not thy mother bequeath thee her blessing on 
 condition that thou should'st detest and avoid me ? ' 
 
 'Oh no, no, no!' cried I, 'think not so unkindly of her, 
 nor so hardly of me.' I then took from my pocket-book her 
 last letter, and, pressing it to my lips, with a trembling hand, 
 and still upon my knees, I held it out to him. 
 
 Hastily snatching it from me, ' Great Heaven ! ; cried he, 
 ' 'tis her writing. Whence comes this ? — who gave it you ? — 
 why had I it not sooner ? ' 
 
 I made no answer ; his vehemence intimidated me, and I 
 
 454
 
 EVELINA 
 
 ventured not to move from the suppliant posture in which I 
 had put myself. 
 
 He went from me to the window, where his eyes were for 
 some time rivetted upon the direction of the letter, though his 
 hand shook so violently he could hardly hold it. Then, 
 bringing it to me, ' Open it,' — cried he, — ' for I cannot ! ' 
 
 I had, myself, hardly strength to obey him ; but when I 
 had, he took it back, and walked hastily up and down the 
 room, as if dreading to read it. At length, turning to me, 
 ' Do you know,' cried he, ' its contents ? ' 
 
 'No, Sir,' answered I, 'it has never been unsealed.' 
 
 He then again went to the window, and began reading. 
 Having hastily run it over, he cast up his eyes with a look of 
 desperation ; the letter fell from his hand, and he exclaimed, 
 ' Yes ! thou art sainted ! — thou art blessed ! — and I am cursed 
 for ever ! ' He continued some time fixed in this melancholy 
 position ; after which, casting himself with violence upon the 
 ground, ' Oh wretch,' cried he, ' unworthy life and light, in 
 what dungeon can'st thou hide thy head ? ' 
 
 I could restrain myself no longer ; I rose and went to him ; 
 1 did not dare speak, but with pity and concern unutterable, I 
 wept and hung over him. 
 
 Soon after, starting up, he again seized the letter, exclaim- 
 ing, ' Acknowledge thee, Caroline ! — yes, with my heart's best 
 blood would I acknowledge thee ! — Oh that thou could'st 
 witness the agony of my soul ! — Ten thousand daggers could 
 not have wounded me like this letter ! ' 
 
 Then, after again reading it, ' Evelina,' he cried, ' she 
 charges me to receive thee ; — wilt thou, in obedience to her 
 will, own for thy father the destroyer of thy mother ? ' 
 
 What a dreadful question ! I shuddered, but could not speak. 
 
 'To clear her fame and receive her child,' continued he, 
 looking steadfastly at the letter, 'are the conditions upon 
 which she leaves me her forgiveness : her fame I have already 
 cleared ;— and oh how willingly would I take her child to my 
 bosom, — fold her to my heart, — call upon, her to mitigate my 
 anguish, and pour the balm of comfort on my wounds, were I 
 not conscious I deserve not to receive it, and that all my 
 affliction is the result of my own guilt ! ' 
 
 It was in vain I attempted to speak ; horror and grief took 
 from me all power of utterance. 
 
 455
 
 EVELINA 
 
 He then read aloud from the letter, ' Look not like thy 
 unfortunate mother.' — Sweet soul, with what bitterness of 
 spirit hast thou written! — Come hither, Evelina: Gracious 
 Heaven ! ' looking earnestly at me, ' never was likeness more 
 striking ! — the eye, — the face, — the form,— Oh my child, my 
 child!' Imagine, Sir, — for I can never describe my feelings, 
 when I saw him sink upon his knees before me ! ' Oh dear 
 resemblance of thy murdered mother ! — Oh all that remains of 
 the most injured of women ! behold thy father at thy feet !— ~ 
 bending thus lowly to implore you would not hate him ; — Oh 
 then, thou representative of my departed wife, speak to me in 
 her name, and say that the remorse which tears my soul 
 tortures me not in vain ! ' 
 
 ' Oh rise, rise, my beloved father,' cried I, attempting to 
 assist him, ' I cannot bear to see you thus : — reverse not the 
 law of nature, rise yourself and bless your kneeling daughter ! ' 
 
 ' May Heaven bless thee, my child ! ' cried he, ' for I 
 dare not.' He then rose, and embracing me most affec- 
 tionately, added, ' I see, I see that thou art all kindness, 
 softness, and tenderness ; I need not have feared thee, thou 
 art all the fondest father could wish, and I will try to frame 
 my mind to less painful sensations at thy sight. Perhaps the 
 time may come when I may know the comfort of such a 
 daughter, — at present I am only fit to be alone : dreadful as 
 are my reflections, they ought merely to torment myself. 
 Adieu, my child ; be not angry, — I cannot stay with thee, — 
 oh Evelina ! thy countenance is a dagger to my heart !— just 
 so thy mother looked, — just so ' 
 
 Tears and sighs seemed to choke him ! — and waving his 
 hand, he would have left me, — but, clinging to him, 'Oh, Sir,' 
 cried I, ' will you so soon abandon me ? — am I again an 
 orphan ? — oh my dear, my long-lost father, leave me not, I 
 beseech you ! take pity on your child, and rob her not of the 
 parent she so fondly hoped would cherish her ! ' 
 
 'You know not what you ask,' cried he ; 'the emotions 
 which now rend my soul are more than my reason can endure : 
 suffer me then, to leave you, — impute it not to unkindness, 
 but think of me as well as thou canst. Lord Orville has 
 behaved nobly ; I believe he will make thee happy.' Then, 
 again embracing me, ' God bless thee, my dear child,' cried 
 he, ' God bless thee, my Evelina ! — endeavour to love, — at 
 
 45 6
 
 EVELINA 
 
 least not to hate me, — and to make me an interest in thy filial 
 bosom by thinking of me as thy father.' 
 
 I could not speak ; I kissed his hands on my knees ; and 
 then, with yet more emotion, he again blessed me, and hurried 
 out of the room, — leaving me almost drowned in tears. 
 
 Oh, Sir, all goodness as you are, how much will you feel 
 for your Evelina during a scene of such agitation ! I pray 
 Heaven to accept the tribute of his remorse, and restore him 
 to tranquillity ! 
 
 When I was sufficiently composed to return to the parlour, 
 I found Lord Orville waiting for me with the utmost anxiety : — 
 and then a new scene of emotion, though of a far different 
 nature, awaited me ; for I learnt, by Mr. Macartney, that this 
 noblest of men had insisted the so-long-supposed Miss Belmont 
 should be considered indeed as my sister, and as the co-heiress 
 of my father! though not in law, in justice, he says, she ought 
 ever to be treated as the daughter of Sir John Belmont. 
 
 Oh Lord Orville ! — it shall be the sole study of my happy 
 life, to express, better than by words, the sense I have of your 
 exalted benevolence and greatness of mind ! 
 
 LETTER LXXX1 
 
 EVELINA IN CONTINUATION 
 
 Clifton, Oct. 12. 
 This morning, early, I received the following letter from Sir 
 Clement Willoughby : — 
 
 To Miss Anville 
 
 I have this moment received intelligence that preparations 
 are actually making for your marriage with Lord Orville. 
 
 Imagine not that I write with the imbecile idea of rendering 
 those preparations abortive. No, I am not so mad. My sole 
 view is to explain the motive of my conduct in a particular 
 instance, and to obviate the accusation of treachery which may 
 be laid to my ch 
 
 My unguarded behaviour when I last saw you has, probably, 
 
 457
 
 EVELINA 
 
 already acquainted you that the letter I then saw you reading 
 was written by myself. For your further satisfaction, let me 
 have the honour of informing you that the letter you had 
 designed for Lord Orville had fallen into my hands. 
 
 However I may have been urged on by a passion the most 
 violent that ever warmed the heart of man, I can by no means 
 calmly submit to be stigmatised for an action seemingly so 
 dishonourable ; and it is for this reason that I trouble you 
 with my justification. 
 
 Lord Orville — the happy Orville, whom you are so ready 
 to bless — had made me believe he loved you not, nay, that 
 he held you in contempt. 
 
 Such were my thoughts of his sentiments of you, when I 
 got possession of the letter you meant to send him ; I pretend 
 not to vindicate either the means I used to obtain it, or the 
 action of breaking the seal ; but I was impelled by an im- 
 petuous curiosity to discover the terms upon which you wrote 
 to him. 
 
 The letter, however, was wholly unintelligible to me, and 
 the perusal of it only added to my perplexity. 
 
 A tame suspense I was not born to endure, and I determined 
 to clear my doubts at all hazards and events. 
 
 I answered it, therefore, in Orville's name. 
 
 The views which I am now going to acknowledge must, 
 infallibly, incur your displeasure, — yet I scorn all palliation. 
 
 Briefly, then, I concealed your letter to prevent a dis- 
 covery of your capacity, and I wrote you an answer which I 
 hoped would prevent your wishing for any other. 
 
 I am well aware of everything which can be said upon this 
 subject. Lord Orville will, possibly, think himself ill used ; — 
 but I am extremely indifferent as to his opinion, nor do I now 
 write by way of offering any apology to him, but merely to 
 make known to yourself the reasons by which I have been 
 governed. 
 
 I intend to set off next week for the Continent. Should 
 his Lordship have any commands for me in the meantime, I 
 shall be glad to receive them. I say not this by way of 
 defiance, — I should blush to be suspected of so doing through 
 an indirect channel, — but simply that, if you show him this 
 letter, he may know I dare defend, as well as excuse my 
 conduct. Clement Willoughby. 
 
 458
 
 EVELINA 
 
 What a strange letter ! how proud and how piqued does its 
 writer appear ! To what alternate meanness and rashness do 
 the passions lead, when reason and self-denial do not oppose 
 them ! Sir Clement is conscious he has acted dishonourably, 
 yet the same unbridled vehemence which urged him to gratify 
 a blameable curiosity, will sooner prompt him to risk his life, 
 than confess his misconduct. The rudeness of his manner of 
 writing to me springs from the same cause : the proof he has 
 received of my indifference to him has stung him to the soul, 
 and he has neither the delicacy nor forbearance to disguise his 
 displeasure. 
 
 I determined not to show this letter to Lord Orville, and 
 thought it most prudent to let Sir Clement know I should not. 
 I therefore wrote the following note : — 
 
 TO SIR CLEMENT WTLLOUGHBY 
 
 Sir, — The letter you have been pleased to address to me is 
 so little calculated to afford Lord Orville any satisfaction, that 
 you may depend upon my carefully keeping it from his sight. 
 I will bear you no resentment for what is past ; but I most 
 earnestly entreat, nay implore, that you will not write again 
 while in your present frame of mind, by any channel, direct or 
 indirect. 
 
 I hope you will have much pleasure in your proposed 
 expedition, and I beg leave to assure you of my good wishes. 
 
 Not knowing by what name to sign, I was obliged to send 
 it without any. 
 
 The preparations which Sir Clement mentions, go on just 
 as if your consent were arrived : it is in vain that I expostulate ; 
 Lord Orville says, should any objections be raised, all shall be 
 given up, but that, as his hopes forbid him to expect any, he 
 must proceed as if already assured of your concurrence. 
 
 We have had, this afternoon, a most interesting conversa- 
 tion, in which we have traced our sentiments of each other 
 from our first acquaintance. I have made him confess how ill 
 he thought of me, upon my foolish giddiness at Mrs. Stanley's 
 ball ; but he flatters me with assurances, that every succeeding 
 time he saw me, I appeared to something less and less 
 disadvantage. 
 
 459
 
 EVELINA 
 
 When I expressed my amazement that he could honour 
 with his choice a girl who seemed so infinitely, in every 
 respect, beneath his alliance, he frankly owned, that he had 
 fully intended making more minute inquiries into my family 
 and connections, and particularly concerning those people he 
 saw me with at Marybone, before he acknowledged his pre- 
 possession in my favour : but the suddenness of my intended 
 journey, and the uncertainty of seeing me again, put him quite 
 off his guard, and, ' divesting him of prudence, left him nothing 
 but love.' These were his words ; and yet, he has repeatedly 
 assured me that his partiality has known no bounds from the 
 time of my residing at Clifton. 
 
 Mr. Macartney has just been with me on an embassy from 
 my father. He has sent me his kindest love and assurances 
 of favour, and desired to know if I am happy in the prospect 
 of changing my situation, and if there is anything I can name 
 which he can do for me. And, at the same time, Mr. 
 Macartney delivered to me a draught on my father's banker 
 for a thousand pounds, which he insisted that I should receive 
 entirely for my own use, and expend in equipping myself 
 properly for the new rank of life to which I seem destined. 
 
 I am sure I need not say how much I was penetrated by 
 this goodness ; I wrote my thanks, and acknowledged, frankly, 
 that if I could see him restored to tranquillity, my heart would 
 be without a wish. 
 
 LETTER LXXXII 
 
 EVELINA IK CONTINUATION 
 
 Clifton, Oct. 13. 
 
 The time approaches now, when I hope we shall meet, — 
 yet I cannot sleep, — great joy is as restless as sorrow, — and 
 therefore I will continue my journal. 
 
 As I had never had an opportunity of seeing Bath, a party 
 was formed last night for showing me that celebrated city ; and 
 this morning, after breakfast, we set out in three phaetons. 
 Lady Louisa and Mrs. Beaumont with Lord Merton : Mr. 
 
 460
 
 EVELINA 
 
 Coverley with Mr. Lovel ; and Mrs. Selwyn and myself with 
 Lord Orville. 
 
 We had hardly proceeded half a mile, when a gentleman 
 from a post-chaise, which came galloping after us, called out 
 to the servants, ' Holloa, my Lads, — pray is one Miss Anville 
 in any of them thi/ig-em-bobs ? ' 
 
 I immediately recollected the voice of Captain Mirvan, and 
 Lord Orville stopped the phaeton. He was out of the chaise, 
 and with us in a moment. 'So, Miss Anville,' cried he, 'how 
 do you do ? so I hear you're Miss Belmont now ; — pray how 
 does old Madame French do ? ' 
 
 ' Madame Duval,' said I, 'is, I believe, very well.' 
 
 ' I hope she is in good case,' said he, winking significantly, 
 ' and won't flinch at seeing service : she has laid by long 
 enough to refit and be made tight. And pray how does poor 
 Monseer Doleful do ? is he as lank-jawed as ever ? ' 
 
 'They are neither of them,' said I, ' in Bristol.' 
 
 'No!' cried he, with a look of disappointment, 'but surely 
 the old dowager intends coming to the wedding ! 'twill be a 
 most excellent opportunity to show off her best Lyons silk. 
 Besides, I purpose to dance a new-fashioned jig with her. 
 Don't you know when she'll come ? ' 
 
 ' I have no reason to expect her at all.' 
 
 ' No ! — 'Fore George, this here's the worst news I'd wish 
 to hear ! — why I've thought of nothing all the way but what 
 trick I should serve her ! ' 
 
 ' You have been very obliging ! ' said I, laughing. 
 
 ' O, I promise you,' cried he, ' our Moll would never have 
 wheedled me into this jaunt, if I'd known she was not here ; 
 for, to let you into the secret, I fully intended to have treated 
 the old buck with another frolic' 
 
 ' Did Miss Mirvan, then, persuade you to this journey ?' 
 
 ' Yes, and we've been travelling all night.' 
 
 ' We P cried I : ' Is Miss Mirvan, then, with you?' 
 
 ' What, Molly ? — yes, she's in that there chaise.' 
 
 'Good God, Sir, why did not you tell me sooner?' cried I ; 
 and immediately, with Lord Orville's assistance, I jumped out 
 of the phaeton, and ran to the dear girl. Lord Orville opened 
 the chaise-door, and I am sure I need not tell you what un- 
 feigned joy accompanied our meeting. 
 
 We both begged we might not be parted during the ride, 
 461
 
 EVELINA 
 
 and Lord Orville was so good as to invite Captain Mirvan 
 into his phaeton. 
 
 I think I was hardly ever more rejoiced than at this so 
 seasonable visit from my dear Maria, who had no sooner 
 heard the situation of my affairs, than, with the assistance of 
 Lady Howard and her kind mother, she besought her father 
 with such earnestness to consent to the journey, that he had 
 not been able to withstand their united entreaties ; though 
 she owned that, had he not expected to have met with 
 Madam Duval, she believes he would not so readily have 
 yielded. They arrived at Mrs. Beaumont's but a few minutes 
 after we were out of sight, and overtook us without much 
 difficulty. 
 
 I say nothing of our conversation, because you may so well 
 suppose both the subjects we chose, and our manner of dis- 
 cussing them. 
 
 We all stopped at a great hotel, where we were obliged to 
 inquire for a room, as Lady Louisa, fatigued to death, desired 
 to take something before we began our rambles. 
 
 As soon as the party was assembled, the Captain, abruptly 
 saluting me, said, ' So, Miss Belmont, I wish you joy ; so I 
 hear you've quarrelled with your new name already ? ' 
 
 ' Me ! — no, indeed, Sir.' 
 
 ' Then please for to tell me the reason you're in such a 
 hurry to change it.' 
 
 ' Miss Belmont ! ' cried Mr. Lovel, looking around him 
 with the utmost astonishment, ' I beg pardon, but, if it is 
 not impertinent, I must beg leave to say I always understood 
 that Lady's name was Anville.' 
 
 ' 'Fore George,' cried the Captain, ' it runs in my head 
 I've seen you somewhere before ! and now I think on't, pray 
 a'n't you the person I saw at the play one night, and who 
 didn't know, all the time, whether it was a tragedy or a 
 comedy, or a concert of fiddlers ? ' 
 
 ' I believe, Sir,' said Mr. Lovel, stammering, ' I had once, 
 — I think — the pleasure of seeing you last spring.' 
 
 ' Ay, and if I live an hundred springs,' answered he, ' I 
 shall never forget it ; by Jingo, it has served me for a most 
 excellent good joke ever since. Well, howsomever, I'm glad 
 to see you still in the land of the living,' shaking him roughly 
 by the hand ; ' pray, if a body may be so bold, how much a 
 
 462
 
 EVELINA 
 
 night may you give at present to keep the undertakers 
 aloof? ' 
 
 'Me, Sir!' said Mr. Lovel, very much discomposed; 'I 
 protest I never thought myself in such imminent danger as to 
 — really, Sir, I don't understand you.' 
 
 ' O, you don't! — why then I'll make free for to explain 
 myself. Gentlemen and Ladies, I'll tell you what ; do you 
 know this here gentleman, simple as he sits there, pays five 
 shillings a night to let his friends know he's alive ! ' 
 
 ' And very cheap too,' said Mrs. Selwyn, ' if we consider 
 the value of the intelligence.' 
 
 Lady Louisa, being now refreshed, we proceeded upon our 
 expedition. 
 
 The charming city of Bath answered all my expectations. 
 The Crescent, the prospect from it, and the elegant symmetry 
 of the Circus, delighted me. The Parades, I own, rather dis- 
 appointed me ; one of them is scarce preferable to some of 
 the best paved streets in London ; and the other, though it 
 affords a beautiful prospect, a charming view of Prior Park 
 and of the Avon, yet wanted something in itself of more 
 striking elegance than a mere broad pavement, to satisfy the 
 ideas I had formed of it. 
 
 At the pump-room, I was amazed at the public exhibition 
 of the ladies in the bath : it is true, their heads are covered 
 with bonnets ; but the very idea of being seen, in such a 
 situation, by whoever pleases to look, is indelicate. 
 
 ''Fore George,' said the Captain, looking into the bath, 
 ' this would be a most excellent place for old Madame French 
 to dance a fandango in ! By Jingo, I wouldn't wish for better 
 sport than to swing her round this here pond ! ' 
 
 ' She would be very much obliged to you,' said Lord 
 Orville, 'for so extraordinary a mark of your favour.' 
 
 ' Why, to let you know,' answered the Captain, ' she hit 
 my fancy mightily ; I never took so much to an old tabby 
 before.' 
 
 ' Really, now,' cried Mr. Lovel, looking also into the bath, 
 ' I must confess it is, to me, very incomprehensible why the 
 ladies choose that frightful unbecoming dress to bathe in ! I 
 have often pondered very seriously upon the subject, but could 
 never hit upon the reason.' 
 
 'Well, I declare,' said Lady Louisa, 'I should like of all 
 
 463
 
 EVELINA 
 
 things to set something new a going ; I always hated bathing, 
 because one can get no pretty dress for it ; now do, there's a 
 good creature, try to help me to something.' 
 
 'Who? me! — O dear Ma'am,' said he, simpering, 'I can't 
 pretend to assist a person of your Ladyship's taste ; besides, 
 I have not the least head for fashions. — I really don't think I 
 ever invented above three in my life ! — but I never had the 
 least turn for dress, — never any notion of fancy or elegance.' 
 
 ' O fie, Mr. Lovel ! how can you talk so ? — don't we all 
 know that you lead the ton in the beau monde ? I declare, I 
 think you dress better than anybody.' 
 
 ' O dear Ma'am, you confuse me to the last degree ! / 
 dress well ! — I protest I don't think I'm ever fit to be seen ! 
 — I'm often shocked to death to think what a figure I go. If 
 your Ladyship will believe me, I was full half an hour this 
 morning thinking what I should put on ! ' 
 
 'Odds my life,' cried the Captain, 'I wish I'd been near 
 you ! I warrant I'd have quickened your motions a little ! 
 Half an hour thinking what you'd put on ! and who the deuce 
 do you think cares the snuff of a candle whether you've any- 
 thing on or not ? ' 
 
 'O pray, Captain,' cried Mrs. Selwyn, 'don't be angry with 
 the gentleman for flunking, whatever be the cause, for I 
 assure you he makes no common practice of offending in that 
 way.' 
 
 ' Really, Ma'am, you're prodigiously kind,' said Mr. Lovel, 
 angrily. 
 
 ' Pray, now,' said the Captain, ' did you ever get a ducking 
 in that there place yourself?' 
 
 'A ducking, Sir!' repeated Mr. Lovel; 'I protest I think 
 that's rather an odd term ! — but if you mean a bathing, it is 
 an honour I have had many times.' 
 
 ' And pray, if a body may be so bold, what do you do with 
 that frizle-frize top of your own ? Why I'll lay you what you 
 will, there is fat and grease enough on your crown to buoy 
 you up, if you were to go in head downwards.' 
 
 'And I don't know,' cried Mrs. Selwyn, 'but that might 
 be the easiest way, for I'm sure it would be the lightest.' 
 
 ' For the matter of that there,' said the Captain, ' you must 
 make him a soldier, before you can tell which is lightest, head 
 or heels. Howsomever, I'd lay ten pounds to a shilling, I 
 
 464
 
 EVELINA 
 
 could whisk him so dexterously over into the pool, that he 
 should light plump upon his foretop, and turn round like a 
 tetotum.' 
 
 ' Done ! ' cried Lord Merton ; ' I take your odds ! ' 
 
 ' Will you ? ' returned he ; ' why then, 'fore George, I'd do 
 it as soon as say Jack Robinson.' 
 
 ' He, he ! ' faintly laughed Mr. Lovel, as he moved abruptly 
 from the window, ' 'pon honour, this is pleasant enough ; hut 
 I don't see what right anybody has to lay wagers about one, 
 without one's consent.' 
 
 'There, Lovel, you are out,' cried Mr. Coverley ; 'any 
 man may lay what wager about you he will ; your consent is 
 nothing to the purpose : he may lay that your nose is a sky- 
 blue, if he pleases.' 
 
 ' Aye,' said Mrs. Selwyn, ' or that your mind is more 
 adorned than your person — or any absurdity whatsoever.' 
 
 ' I protest,' said Mr. Lovel, ' I think it's a very disagreeable 
 privilege, and I must beg that nobody may take such a liberty 
 with me.' 
 
 ' Like enough you may,' cried the Captain ; ' but what's 
 that to the purpose ? Suppose I've a mind to lay that you've 
 never a tooth in your head — pray, how will you hinder 
 me ? ' 
 
 ' You'll allow me, at least, Sir, to take the liberty of asking 
 how you'll /rove it ? ' 
 
 ' How ? — why, by knocking them all down your throat.' 
 
 'Knocking them all down my throat, Sir!' repeated Mr. 
 Lovel, with a look of horror, ' I protest I never heard any- 
 thing so shocking in my life, and I must beg leave to 
 observe, that no wager, in my opinion, could justify such a 
 barbarous action.' 
 
 Here Lord Orville interfered, and hurried us to our 
 carriages. 
 
 We returned in the same order we came. Mrs. Beaumont 
 invited all the party to dinner, and has been so obliging as to 
 beg Miss Mirvan may continue at her house during her stay. 
 The Captain will lodge at the Wells. 
 
 The first half-hour after our return was devoted to hearing 
 Mr. hovel's apologies for dining in his riding-*; 
 
 Mrs. Beaumont then, addressing herself to Miss Mirvan 
 and me. inquired how we liked Bath ? 
 
 465 j 11
 
 EVELINA 
 
 ' I hope,' said Mr. Lovel, 'the ladies do not call this seeing 
 Bath.' 
 
 ' No ? — what should ail 'em ? ' cried the Captain ; ' do you 
 suppose they put their eyes in their pockets ? ' 
 
 ' No, Sir ; but I fancy you will find no person — that is, no 
 person of any condition — call going about a few places in a 
 morning seeing Bath.' 1 
 
 ' Mayhap, then,' said the literal Captain, ' you think we 
 should see it better by going about at midnight ? ' 
 
 ' No, Sir, no,' said Mr. Lovel, with a supercilious smile, ' I 
 perceive you don't understand me, — we should never call it 
 seeing Bath, without going at the right season.' 
 
 ' Why, what a plague, then,' demanded he, ' can you only 
 see at one season of the year ? ' 
 
 Mr. Lovel again smiled, but seemed superior to making 
 any answer. 
 
 ' The Bath amusements,' said Lord Orville, ' have a sameness 
 in them, which, after a short time, renders them rather insipid : 
 but the greatest objection that can be made to the place is 
 the encouragement it gives to gamesters.' 
 
 ' Why, I hope, my Lord, you would not think of abolishing 
 gaming,' cried Lord Merton ; ' 'tis the very zest of life ! Devil 
 take me if I could live without it ! ' 
 
 ' I am sorry for it,' said Lord Orville, gravely, and looking 
 at Lady Louisa. 
 
 ' Your Lordship is no judge of this subject,' continued the 
 other ; ' but if once we could get you to a gaming-table, you'd 
 never be happy away from it.' 
 
 ' I hope, my Lord,' cried Lady Louisa, ' that nobody here 
 ever occasions your quitting it.' 
 
 'Your Ladyship,' said Lord Merton, recollecting himself, 
 ' has power to make me quit anything.' 
 
 ' Except herself? said Mr. Coverley. ' Egad, my Lord, I 
 think I've helped you out there.' 
 
 ' You men of wit, Jack,' answered his Lordship, 'are always 
 ready; for my part, I don't pretend to any talents that way.' 
 
 'Really, my Lord?' asked the sarcastic Mrs. Selwyn ; 
 ' well, that is wonderful, considering success would be so much 
 in your power.' 
 
 'Pray, Ma'am,' said Mr. Lovel to Lady Louisa, 'has your 
 Ladyship heard the news ? ' 
 
 466
 
 EVELINA 
 
 ' News ! — what new? ? ' 
 
 • Why the report circulating at the Wells, concerning a 
 certain person ? ' 
 
 ' O Lord, no ; pray tell me what it is ! ' 
 
 'O no, Ma'am, I beg your La'ship will excuse me; 'tis a 
 profound secret, and I would not have mentioned it, if I had 
 not thought you knew it.' 
 
 ' Lord, now, how can you be so monstrous ? I declare, 
 now, you're a provoking creature ! But come, I know you'll 
 tell me — won't you, now ? ' 
 
 ' Your La'ship knows I am but too happy to obey you ; but, 
 J pon honour, I can't speak a word if you won't all promise me 
 the most inviolable secrecy.' 
 
 ' I wish you'd wait for that from me,' said the Captain, 
 'and I'll give you my word you'd be dumb for one while. 
 Secrecy, quoth a ! — 'Fore George, I wonder you a'n't ashamed 
 to mention such a word when you talk of telling it to a 
 woman. Though for the matter of that, I'd as lieve blab it to 
 the whole sex at once, as to go for to tell it to such a thing as 
 you.' 
 
 ' Such a thing as me, Sir ! ' said Mr. Lovel, letting fall his 
 knife and fork, and looking very important : ' I really have 
 not the honour to understand your expression ' 
 
 ' It's all one for that,' said the Captain ; ' you may have it 
 explained whenever you like it.' 
 
 "Pon honour, Sir,' returned Mr. Lovel, 'I must take the 
 liberty to tell you that I should be extremely offended, but 
 that I suppose it to be some sea-phrase ; and therefore I'll let 
 it pass without further notice.' 
 
 Lord Orville, then, to change the discourse, asked Miss 
 Mirvan if she should spend the ensuing winter in London ? 
 
 ' No, to be sure,' said the Captain, ' what should she for ? 
 she saw all that was to be seen before.' 
 
 ' Is London, then,' said Mr. Lovel, smiling at Lady Louisa, 
 ' only to be regarded as a sight ? ' 
 
 'Why pray. Mr. Wiseacre, how are you pleased for to 
 regard it yourself? — Answer me to that.' 
 
 ' O Sir, ////opinion, I fancy you would hardly find intelligible. 
 I don't understand sea-phrases enough to define it to your 
 comprehension. Doesn't your La'ship think the task would 
 be rather difficult ? ' 
 
 467
 
 EVELINA 
 
 ' O Lard, yes,' cried Lady Louisa ; ' I declare I'd as soon 
 teach my parrot to talk Welsh.' 
 
 'Ha! ha! ha! admirable! — 'Pon honour your La'ship's 
 quite in luck to-day ; — but that, indeed, your La'ship is every 
 day. Though, to be sure, it is but candid to acknowledge, 
 that the gentlemen of the ocean have a set of ideas, as well as 
 a dialect, so opposite to ours, that it is by no means surprising 
 they should regard London as a mere show, that may be seen 
 by being looked at. Ha ! ha ! ha ! ' 
 
 ' Ha ! ha ! ' echoed Lady Louisa : ' Well, I declare you are 
 the drollest creature ! ' 
 
 ' He ! he ! 'pon honour I can't help laughing at the conceit 
 of seeing London in a few weeks ! ' 
 
 ' And what a plague should hinder you ? ' cried the Captain ; 
 ' do you want to spend a day in every street ? ' 
 
 Here again Lady Louisa and Mr. Lovel interchanged smiles. 
 
 ' Why, I warrant you, if I had the showing it, I'd haul you 
 from St. James's to Wapping the very first morning.' 
 
 The smiles were now, with added contempt, repeated ; 
 which the Captain observing, looked very fiercely at Mr. 
 Lovel, and said, ' Hark'ee, my spark, none of your grinning ! 
 'tis a lingo I don't understand, and if you give me any more 
 of it, I shall go near to lend you a box o' the ear.' 
 
 ' I protest, Sir,' said Air. Lovel, turning extremely pale, ' I 
 think it's taking a very particular liberty with a person, to talk 
 to one in such a style as this ! ' 
 
 ' It's like you may,' returned the Captain ; 'but give a good 
 gulp, and I'll warrant you'll swallow it.' Then, calling for a 
 glass of ale, with a very provoking and significant nod he 
 drank to his easy digestion. 
 
 Mr. Lovel made no answer, but looked extremely sullen : 
 and soon after we left the gentlemen to themselves. 
 
 I had then two letters delivered to me- — one from Lady 
 Howard and Mrs. Mirvan, which contained the kindest con- 
 gratulations ; and the other from Madame Duval — but not a 
 word from you, to my no small surprise and concern. 
 
 Madame Duval seems greatly rejoiced at my late intelligence : 
 a violent cold, she says, prevents her coming to Bristol. The 
 Branghtons, she tells me, are all well : Miss Polly is soon to 
 be married to Mr. Brown, but Mr. Smith has changed his 
 lodgings, 'which,' she adds, 'has made the house extremely 
 
 46S
 
 EVELINA 
 
 dull. However, that's not the worst news ; pardi, I wish it 
 was ! but I've been used like nobody, for Monsieur Du Bois 
 has had the baseness to go back to France without me.' In 
 conclusion, she assures me, as you prognosticated she would, 
 that I shall be sole heiress of all she is worth, when Lady 
 Orville. 
 
 At tea-time we were joined by all the gentlemen but Captain 
 Mirvan, who went to the hotel where he was to sleep, and 
 made his daughter accompany him to separate her trumpery, 
 as he called it, from his clothes. 
 
 As soon as they were gone, Mr. Lovel, who still appeared 
 extremely sulky, said ' I protest, I never saw such a vulgar, 
 abusive fellow in my life, as that Captain : 'pon honour, I 
 believe he came here for no purpose in the world but to pick 
 a quarrel ; however, for my part, I vow I won't humour him.' 
 
 ' I declare,' cried Lady Louisa, ' he put me in a monstrous 
 fright — I never heard anybody talk so shocking in my life ! ' 
 
 'I think,' said Mrs. Selwyn, with great solemnity, 'he 
 threatened to box your ears, Mr. Lovel — did not he ? ' 
 
 ' Really, Ma'am,' said Mr. Lovel, colouring, ' if one was to 
 mind everything those low kind of people say, one should 
 never be at rest for one impertinence or other — so I think the 
 best way is to be above taking any notice of them.' 
 
 'What,' said Mrs. Selwyn, with the same gravity, 'and so 
 receive the blow in silence ! ' 
 
 During this discourse, I heard the Captain's chaise stop at 
 the door, and ran downstairs to meet Maria. She was alone, 
 and told me that her father, who, she was sure, had some 
 scheme in agitation against Mr. Lovel, had sent her on before 
 him. We continued in the parlour till his return, and were 
 joined by Lord Orville, who begged me not to insist on a 
 patience so unnatural, as submitting to be excluded our society. 
 And let me, my dear Sir, with a grateful heart let me own, I 
 never before passed half an hour in such perfect felicity. 
 
 I believe we were all sorry when the Captain returned : 
 yet his inward satisfaction, from however different a cause, did 
 not seem inferior to what ours had been. He chucked Maria 
 under the chin, rubbed his hands, and was scarce able to 
 contain the fulness of his glee. We all attended him to the 
 drawing-room, where, having composed his countenance, with- 
 out any previous attention to Mrs. Beaumont, he marched up 
 
 469
 
 Miss Mirvan and I jumped upon out chairs.
 
 EVELINA 
 
 to Mr. Lovel, and abruptly said, ' Pray, have you e'er a brother 
 in these here parts ? ' 
 
 ' Me, Sir ? — no thank Heaven, I'm free from all incumbrances 
 of that sort.' 
 
 ' Well,' cried the Captain, ' I met a person just now, so like 
 you, I could have sworn he had been your twin-brother.' 
 
 ' It would have been a most singular pleasure to me,' said 
 Mr. Lovel, 'if I also could have seen him ; for, really, I have 
 not the least notion what sort of a person I am, and I have a 
 prodigious curiosity to know.' 
 
 Just then, the Captain's servant opening the door, said, ' A 
 little gentleman below desires to see one Mr. Lovel.' 
 
 'Beg him to walk upstairs,' said Mrs. Beaumont. 'But 
 pray what is the reason William is out of the way ? ' 
 
 The man shut the door without any answer. 
 
 ' I can't imagine who it is,' said Mr. Lovel ; ' I recollect no 
 little gentleman of my acquaintance now at Bristol, — except, 
 indeed, the Marquis of Charlton, — but I don't much fancy it 
 can be him. Let me see, who else is there so very little ? ' 
 
 A confused noise among the servants now drew all eyes 
 towards the door ; the impatient Captain hastened to open it, 
 and then, clapping his hands, call'd out, "Fore George, 'tis the 
 same person I took for your relation ! ' 
 
 And then, to the utter astonishment of everybody but him- 
 self, he hauled into the room a monkey ! full dressed, and 
 extravagantly a-la-modc .' 
 
 The dismay of the company was almost general. Poor 
 Mr. Lovel seemed thunderstruck with indignation and sur- 
 prise ; Lady Louisa began a scream, which for some time was 
 incessant ; Miss Mirvan and I jumped involuntarily upon the 
 seats of our chairs ; Mrs. Beaumont herself followed our 
 example ; Lord Orville placed himself before me as a guard ; 
 and Mrs. Selwyn, Lord Merton, and Mr. Coverley burst into 
 a loud, immoderate, ungovernable fit of laughter, in which they 
 were joined by the Captain, till, unable to support himself, he 
 rolled on the floor. 
 
 The first voice which made its way through this general 
 noise was that of Lady Louisa, which her fright and scream- 
 ing rendered extremely shrill. 'Take it away!' cried she, 
 'take the monster away, — I shall faint, I shall faint if you 
 don't ! ' 
 
 47i
 
 EVELINA 
 
 Mr. Lovel, irritated beyond endurance, angrily demanded 
 of the Captain what he meant ? 
 
 ' Mean ! ' cried the Captain, as soon as he was able to 
 speak, ' why only to show you in your proper colours.' Then 
 rising, and pointing to the monkey, ' Why now, Ladies and 
 Gentlemen, I'll be judged by you all ! — Did you ever see any- 
 thing more like ? Odds my life, if it wasn't for this here tail, 
 you wouldn't know one from t'other.' 
 
 ' Sir,' cried Mr. Lovel, stamping, ' I shall take a time to 
 make you feel my wrath.' 
 
 'Come, now,' continued the regardless Captain, 'just for 
 the fun's sake, doff your coat and waistcoat, and swop with 
 Monsieur Grinagain here, and I'll warrant you'll not know 
 yourself which is which.' 
 
 ' Not know myself from a monkey ! — I assure you, Sir, I'm 
 not to be used in this manner, and I won't bear it, — curse me 
 if I will ! ' 
 
 ' Why heyday,' cried the Captain, ' what, is Master in a 
 passion ? — well, don't be angry, — come, he sha'n't hurt you ; 
 — here, shake a paw with him, — why he'll do you no harm, 
 man ! — come, kiss and be friends ! ' — 
 
 ' Who, I ?' cried Mr. Lovel, almost mad with vexation, ' as 
 I'm a living creature I would not touch him for a thousand 
 worlds ! ' 
 
 'Send him a challenge,' cried Mr. Coverley, 'and I'll be 
 your second.' 
 
 'Ay, do,' said the Captain, 'and I'll be second to my friend 
 Monsieur Clapperclaw here. Come, to it at once ! — tooth and 
 nail ! ' 
 
 ' God forbid ! ' cried Mr. Lovel, retreating, ' I would sooner 
 trust my person with a mad bull ! ' 
 
 ' I don't like the looks of him myself,' said Lord Merton, 
 'for he grins most horribly.' 
 
 ' Oh, I'm frightened out of my senses ! ' cried Lady Louisa ; 
 ' take him away, or I shall die ! ' 
 
 ' Captain,' said Lord Orville, ' the ladies are alarmed, and I 
 must beg you would send the monkey away.' 
 
 ' Why, where can be the mighty harm of one monkey 
 more than another ? ' answered the Captain ; ' howsomever, 
 if it's agreeable to the ladies, suppose we turn them out 
 together ? ' 
 
 472
 
 EVELINA 
 
 'What do you mean by that, Sir?' cried Mr. Lovel. lifting 
 up his cane. 
 
 ' What do you mean ? ' cried the Captain, fiercely : ' be so 
 good as to down with your cane.' 
 
 Poor Mr. Lovel, too much intimidated to stand his ground, 
 yet too much enraged to submit, turned hastily round, and, 
 forgetful of consequences, vented his passion by giving a 
 furious blow to the monkey. 
 
 The creature darting forwards, sprung instantly upon him, 
 and, clinging round his neck, fastened his teeth to one of his 
 ears. 
 
 I was really sorry for the poor man, who, though an 
 egregious fop, had committed no offence that merited such 
 chastisement. 
 
 It was impossible, now, to distinguish whose screams were 
 loudest, those of Mr. Lovel, or of the terrified Lady Louisa, 
 who, I believe, thought her own turn was approaching : but 
 the unrelenting Captain roared with joy. 
 
 Not so Lord Orville : ever humane, generous, and bene- 
 volent, he quitted his charge, who he saw was wholly out of 
 danger, and seizing the monkey by the collar, made him 
 loosen the ear, and then, with a sudden swing, flung him out 
 of the room, and shut the door. 
 
 Poor Mr. Lovel, almost fainting with terror, sank upon the 
 floor, crying out, ' Oh, I shall die, I shall die ! — Oh, I'm bit to 
 death ! ' 
 
 'Captain Mirvan,' said Mrs. Beaumont, with no little in- 
 dignation, ' I must own I don't perceive the wit of this action, 
 and I am sorry to have such cruelty practised in my house.' 
 
 'Why, Lord, Ma'am,' said the Captain, when his rapture 
 abated sufficiently for speech, ' how could I tell they'd fall out 
 so ? — by Jingo, I brought him to be a messmate for t'other.' 
 
 ' Egad,' said Mr. Coverley, ' I would not have been served 
 so for a thousand pounds ! ' 
 
 'Why then there's the odds of it,' said the Captain, 'for 
 you see he is served so for nothing. But come' (turning to 
 Mr. Lovel), 'be of good heart, all may end well yet, and you 
 and Monseer Longtail be as good friends as ever.' 
 
 ' I'm surprised, Mrs. Beaumont,' cried Mr. Lovel, starting 
 up, 'that you can suffer a person under your roof to be treated 
 so inhumanly.' 
 
 473
 
 EVELINA 
 
 1 What argufies so many words ?' said the unfeeling Captain ; 
 ' it is but a slit of the ear — it only looks as if you had been in 
 the pillory.' 
 
 'Very true,' added Mrs. Selvvyn, 'and who knows but it 
 may acquire you the credit of being an anti-ministerial writer ? ; 
 
 ' I protest,' cried Mr. Lovel, looking ruefully at his dress, 
 ' my new riding-suit's all over blood ! ' 
 
 ' Ha, ha, ha ! ' cried the Captain ; ' see what comes of 
 studying for an hour what you shall put on.' 
 
 Mr. Lovel then walked to the glass, and, looking at the 
 place, exclaimed, ' Oh Heaven, what a monstrous wound ! my 
 ear will never be fit to be seen again ! ' 
 
 ' Why then,' said the Captain, ' you must hide it ; — 'tis but 
 wearing a wig ! ' 
 
 ' A wig ! ' repeated the affrighted Mr. Lovel, ' / wear a wig ? 
 — no, not if you would me give a thousand pounds an hour ! ' 
 
 ' I declare,' said Lady Louisa, ' I never heard such a 
 shocking proposal in my life ! ' 
 
 Lord Orville then, seeing no prospect that the altercation 
 would cease, proposed to the Captain to walk. He assented ; 
 and having given Mr. Lovel a nod of exultation, accompanied 
 his Lordship downstairs. 
 
 ' 'Pon honour,' said Mr. Lovel, the moment the door was 
 shut, ' that fellow is the greatest brute in nature ! he ought not 
 to be admitted into a civilised society.' 
 
 ' Lovel,' said Mr. Coverley, affecting to whisper, ' you must 
 certainly pink him : you must not put up with such an affront.' 
 
 'Sir,' said Mr. Lovel, 'with any common person, I should 
 not deliberate an instant ; but, really, with a fellow who has 
 done nothing but fight all his life, 'pon honour, Sir, I can't 
 think of it ! ' 
 
 ' Lovel,' said Lord Merton, in the same voice, ' you must 
 call him to account.' 
 
 ' Every man,' said he, pettishly, ' is the best judge of his 
 own affairs, and I don't ask the honour of any person's advice.' 
 
 ' Egad, Lovel,' said Mr. Coverley, ' you're in for it ! — you 
 can't possibly be off! ' 
 
 ' Sir,' cried he, very impatiently, ' upon any proper occasion, 
 I should be as ready to show my courage as anybody : — but 
 as to fighting for such a trifle as this, — I protest I should 
 blush to think of it ! ' 
 
 474
 
 EVELINA 
 
 'A trifle!' cried Mrs. Selwyn ; 'good Heaven! and have 
 you made this astonishing riot about a trifle f 
 
 ' Ma'am,' answered the poor wretch, in great confusion, ' I 
 did not know at first but that my cheek might have been bit : 
 — but as 'tis no worse, why it does not a great deal signify. 
 Mrs. Beaumont, I have the honour to wish you good evening ; 
 I'm sure my carriage must be waiting.' And then, very 
 abruptly, he left the room. 
 
 What a commotion has this mischief-loving Captain raised ! 
 Were I to remain here long, even the society of my dear Maria 
 could scarce compensate for the disturbances which he excites. 
 
 When he returned, and heard of the quiet exit of Mr. 
 Lovel, his triumph was intolerable. ' I think, I think,' cried 
 he, ' I have peppered him well ! I'll warrant he won't give an 
 hour to-morrow morning to settling what he shall put on ; why 
 his coat,' turning to me, ' would be a most excellent match for 
 old Madame Furbelow's best Lyons silk ! 'Fore George, I'd 
 desire no better sport, than to have that there old cat here, to 
 go her snacks ! ' 
 
 All the company then — Lord Orville, Miss Mirvan, and 
 myself excepted — played at cards, and we — oh how much 
 better did we pass our time ! 
 
 While we were engaged in a most delightful conversation, 
 a servant brought me a letter, which she told me had, by some 
 accident, been mislaid. Judge of my feelings when I saw, my 
 dearest Sir, your revered handwriting ! My emotion soon 
 betrayed to Lord Orville whom the letter was from ; the 
 importance of the contents he well knew, and, assuring me I 
 should not be seen by the card-players, he besought me to 
 open it without delay. 
 
 Open it, indeed I did, — but read it I could not ; the 
 willing, yet awful consent you have granted, — the tenderness 
 of your expressions, — the certainty that no obstacle remained 
 to my eternal union with the loved owner of my heart, gave 
 me sensations too various, and, though joyful, too little placid 
 for observation. Finding myself unable to proceed, and blinded 
 by the tears of gratitude and delight which started into my 
 eyes, I gave over the attempt of reading till I retired to my 
 own room : and, having no voice to answer the inquiries of 
 Lord Orville, I put the letter into his hands, and left it to 
 speak both for me and itself. 
 
 475
 
 EVELINA 
 
 Lord Orville was himself affected by your kindness ; he 
 kissed the letter as he returned it, and, pressing- my hand 
 affectionately to his heart, 'You are now' (said he, in a low 
 voice), ' all my own ! Oh, my Evelina, how will my soul 
 find room for its happiness ? — it seems already bursting ! ' I 
 could make no reply ; indeed I hardly spoke another word 
 the rest of the evening — so little talkative is the fulness of 
 contentment. 
 
 O my dearest Sir, the thankfulness of my heart I must 
 pour forth at our meeting, when, at your feet, my happiness 
 receives its confirmation from your blessing, and when my 
 noble-minded, my beloved Lord Orville, presents to you the 
 highly-honoured and thrice-happy Evelina. 
 
 A few lines I will endeavour to write on Thursday, which 
 shall be sent off express, to give you, should nothing intervene, 
 yet more certain assurance of our meeting. 
 
 Now then, therefore, for the first — and probably the last 
 time I shall ever own the name, permit me to sign myself, 
 most dear Sir, your gratefully affectionate, 
 
 Evelina Belmont. 
 
 Lady Louisa, at her own particular desire, will be present 
 at the ceremony, as well as Miss Mirvan and Mrs. Selwyn : 
 Mr. Macartney will, the same morning, be united to my foster- 
 sister, and my father himself will give us both away. 
 
 LETTER LNNXIII 
 
 MR. VII. LARS TO EVELINA 
 
 Every wish of my soul is now fulfilled — for the felicity of 
 my Evelina is equal to her worthiness ! 
 
 Yes, my child, thy happiness is engraved, in golden 
 characters, upon the tablets of my heart ! and their impression 
 is indelible ; for, should the rude and deep-searching hand of 
 Misfortune attempt to pluck them from their repository, the 
 fleeting fabric of life would give way, and in tearing from my 
 vitals the nourishment by which they are supported, she would 
 but grasp at a shadow insensible to her touch. 
 
 476
 
 EVELINA 
 
 Give thee my consent ? — Oh thou joy, comfort, and pride 
 of my life, how cold is that word to express the fervency of 
 my approbation ! yes, I do indeed give thee my consent, and 
 so thankfully, that, with the humblest gratitude to Providence, 
 I would seal it with the remnant of my days. 
 
 Hasten, then, my love, to bless me with thy presence, and 
 to receive the blessings with which my fond heart overflows ! 
 — And, oh my Evelina, hear and assist in one only, humble, 
 but ardent prayer which yet animates my devotions : that the 
 height of bliss to which thou art rising may not render thee 
 giddy, but that the purity of thy mind may form the brightest 
 splendour of thy prosperity ! — and that the weak and aged 
 frame of thy almost idolising parent, nearly worn out by time, 
 past afflictions, and infirmities, may yet be able to sustain a 
 meeting with all its better part holds dear ; and then, that 
 all the wounds which the former severity of fortune inflicted, 
 may be healed and purified by the ultimate consolation of 
 pouring forth my dying words in blessings on my child ! — 
 closing these joy-streaming eyes in her presence, and breathing 
 my last faint sighs in her loved arms ! 
 
 Grieve not, oh child of my care, grieve not at the inevitable 
 moment ; but may thy own end be equally propitious ! Oh 
 may'st thou, when full of days, and full of honour, sink down 
 as gently to rest, — be loved as kindly, watched as tenderly, as 
 thy happy father ! And may'st thou, when thy glass is run, 
 be sweetly, but not bitterly mourned, by some remaining 
 darling of thy affections,— some yet surviving Evelina ! 
 
 Arthur Villars. 
 
 LETTER LXXXIV 
 
 EVELINA TO THE REV. MR. VII, LARS 
 
 All is over, my dearest Sir, and the fate of your Evelina 
 is decided ! This morning, with fearful joy, and trembling 
 gratitude, she united herself for ever with the object of her 
 dearest, her eternal affection. 
 
 I have time far no more : the chaise now waits which is to 
 conduct me to dear Berry Hill, and to the amis of the best 
 of men. EVE! i\ \. 
 
 47 7
 
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