7^-'' i y^/ t/h^m^,. flyi^^^ofi/^ ^%if/u'> II E> R.AR.Y OF THE UN IVLRSITY Of ILLINOIS 323 Arle 1810 V. 1 EVELINA A NOVEL VOLUME THE FIRST Pnoiecl by T. C. UANEARO, Petcrboiry Court, iieet-sirest, U)VM)V. EVELINA OR THE HISTORY A YOUNG LADFs INTRODUCTION TO THE WORLD A J^^EW EDITIOJV* IW TWO VOLUMES VOL I Sontion pRiNTiD FOR W. LOWNDES 38 Bedford street ISIO \^\o Oh, Author of my being ! — far more dear To me than light, than nourishment, or rest, Hygeia's blessings, Rapture^s burning tear. Or the life-blood that mantles in ray 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 powers 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. '\3 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. VOL. I. TO THE AUTHORS OF THE MONTHLY AND CRITICAL REVIEWS. Gentlemen, The liberty which I take in addressing to yea 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 ray temerity ; lest, by a premature exercise of that patience which I hope will befriend me, I should lessen its benevo- lence, 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 themselves Inspectors of all literary performances ? B 2 4 DEDICATION. The extensive plan of your critical observations, —which, not confined to works of utility or inge- nuity, is equally open lo those of frivolous amuse- ment, — ard, yet worse than frivolous, dullness — encourages rue lo seek for your protection, since, — periiaps for my sins ! — it intitles me to your anno- tati.;n5!. To resent, therefore, this offering, how- ever insignificant, would ill become the universa- lity of your undertaking; though not to despise it may, alas ! be out of your power. The language of adulation, and the incense of fiatttry, though the natural inheritance, and con- pant resource, from time immemorial, of the De- dicator, to me offer nothing but the wistful regret that I dare not invoke their aid. Sinister views would be imputed to all I could say ; since, thus situated, to exiol 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 the most spirited impar- tiality, and to which your suffrages should carry the marks of pure, dauntless, irrefragable truth — to appe.il 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 — DEDICATION. 5 U droppeth like the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath, I court it not ! to your justice alone I am intitled, and by that I must abide. Your engagements are not to the supplicating authors ; 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 cal- lous to criticism, here braves your severity ;— nei- ther does a half-starved garretteer, Oblig'd 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 re- collecting 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 : and though scarcely more requisite in the field of battle, to guard the fighting hero from dis- grace, 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 in- ferior passions, and by which the too timid mind is B ^ 6 DEDICATION, betrayed into a servility derogatory to the dignity of human nature; yet is it a virtue of no necessity in a situaiion such as mine ; a situation which re- moves even from cowardice itself, the sting of igno- miny ; — for surelj^ that courage may easily be dis- pensed with, which would rather excite disgust than admiration ! Indeed, it is the peculiar privi- lege of an author, to rob terror of contempt, and pusillanimity of reproach. Here let 77ie rest — and snatch ra5^self, w^hile I yet am able, from the fascination of Egotism : — a mon- ster 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 individu- al, 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, 4t** * * * * PREFACE. 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 nume- rous but less respectable. Yet, while in the annals of those few of our pre- decessors, to whom this species of writing is in- debted for being saved from contempt, and rescued from depravity, we can trace such names as Rous- seau, Johnson,* Marivaux, Fielding, Richardson, and Smollett, no man need blush at starting from the same post, though many, nay, most men, may ^igh at finding themselves distanced. The following letters are presented to the Public —•for such by novel writers, novel readers will be called,^witha very singular mixture of timidity and confidence, resulting from the peculiar situation of * However superior the capacities in which these great writers deserve to be considered, they must pardon me that, for the dignity of my subject, I here rank the authors of Ras- st'las and Eloise as Novelists. 8 l>REFACE. 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 in the most se- cluded retirement, makes, at the age of seventeen, her first appearance upon the great and busy stage of life ; with a virtuous mind, a cultivated under- standing, 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 pro- gression of the life of a young woman of obscure birth, but conspicuoHS beauty, for the six months after her Entrance into the world. Perhaps, were it possible to effect the total ex- tirpation 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 con- tagion 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 Expe- rience; surely all attempts to contribute to the PREFACE. number of those which may be read, if not with ad- vantage, at least without injury, ought rather to b« encouraged than contemned. Let me, therefore, prepare for disappointment those who in the perusal of these sheets enter- tain the gentle expectation of being transported to the fantastic regions of Romance, where Fiction is coloured by all tiie gay tints of luxurious Imagina- tion, where Reason is an outcast, and where the sublimity of the Marvellous rejects all aid from sober Probability. The heroine of these memoirs, young, artless, and inexperienced, is No faultless monster that the world ne'er saw ; but the offspring of Nature, and of Nature in her sim- plest attire. In all the Arts, the value of copies can only be proportioned to the scarcity of originals: among sculptors and painters, a fine statue, or a beautiful picture, of some great master, may deservedly em- ploy the imitative talents of young 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 productions of literature are al- most equally attainable with the meanest. In books, therefore, imitation cannot be shunned too sedu- lously; for the very perfection of a model Vvhich is frequently seen, serves but more forcibly to mark the inferiority of a copy. m PREFACE. To avoid what is common, without adopting what is unnatural, 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 Smollett; I yet presume not to at- tempt 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 imper- tinence to doubt, and to their indulgence I am sen- sible I have no claim ; I have, therefore, only to intreat, 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 to be im- puted to an opinion of mjr 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. EVELINA. LETTER I. LADY HOWARD TO THE REV. MR. VILLARS. Howard Grove, Kent. Can any thing, my good Sir, be more painful to a friendly mind, than a necessity of communicating disagreeable intelligence ? Indeed it is sometimes difficult to determine, whether the relator or the re- ceiver 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 ; sh« seem5 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 thos^ misfortunes for which she alone is answerable. Her letter is violent, sometimes abusive, and that of you ! — 1/ou, to whom she is under obligations which are ;^reater even than her faults, but to whose ad- vice she wickedly imputes all the sufferings of her much injured daughter, the late Lady Belmont. Th( chief purport of her writing 1 will acquaint y^ii. with ; the letter itself is not worthy your notice. >he tells me that she has, for many years past, boen in continual expectation of making a journey to England, which prevented her writing for infor- mation concerning this melancholy subject, by giv- ing her hopes of making personal inquiries; but fa- mily occurrences have still detained her in France, v'hich country she now sees no prospect of quitting. i?^he has, therefore, lately usedher utmost endeavours 12 EVELINA. to obtain a faithful account of whatever related to her ill-advised daughter; the result of which giving her sofjie reason to apprehend, that, upon her death- bed, she bequeathed an infant orphan to the worid, she most graciously says, that if i/ou with whom she understands the child is placed, will procure authen- tic 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-con- victed of her most unnatural behaviour: it is evi- dent from her n-riting, that she is still as vulgar and illiterate as when her tirst husband, Mr. Evelyn, had the weakness to marry her; nor does she at all apo- logize for addressing herself to me, though 1 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 protec- tion 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 cwiferring, where she most oives obli- gation. I pretend not to give you advice; you, to whose generous protection this helpless orphan is indebted for every thing, are the best and only judge of what she ought todo; but I am much con- cerned at the trouble and uneasiness which this un- worthy woman may occasion you. My daughter and my grandchild join with me in desiring to be most kindly remem.bered to the ajniible girl, and they bid me remind you, that EVELINA. IS the annual visit to Howard Grove, which we were formerly promised, has been discontinued for more than four years. J am, dear Sir, with great regard. Your most obedient friend and servant, M. HOVVARa LETTER II. MR. VILLARS TO LADY HOWARD. Berry-Hill, Dorsetshire. YoLR Ladyship did but too well foresee the per- plexity and uneasiness of which Madame Duval's, letter has been productive. However, I ojght ra- ther to be thankful that I have so many years re- mained unmolested, than repine at my present em- barrassment, since it proves, at least, that this wretched woman is at length awakened to remorse. In regard to my answer, I must humbly request your Ladyship to write to this effect : That I would not upon any account, intentionally olfend Ma- dame Duval ; but that I have weighty, nay unan- swerable reasons for detaining her grand-daughter at present in England ; the principal of which is, that it w as the earnest desire of one to vvhose will she owes implicit duty. Madame Duval may be assured, that she meets with the utmost attention and tenderness ; that her education, how^ever short of my wishes, almost exceeds my abilities : and I flatter myself, when the time arrives that she shall pay her duty to her grand-mother, Madame Duval will find no reason to be dissatisfied with what has been done for her. Your Ladyship will not, 1 am sure, be surprised at this answer. Madame Duval is by no means a VOL. I. c 14 EVELINA. proper companion or guardian for a young woman : she is at once uneducated and unprincipled ; un- gentle in temper, and unamiable in her manners. I have long known that she has persuaded herself to harbour an aversion for me — Unhappy vvoman ! 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 hers. 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 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 fol- lowing note : " My friend, forget your resentment, in favour of your humanity; — a father, trembling for the welfare of his child, bequeathes her to your care.-— O Villars ! hear ! pity ! and relieve me !*' EVELINA. 15 Had my circumstances permitted me, I should have answered these words by an immediate jour- ney to Paris; but I was obliged to act by the agen- cy of a friend, who was upon the spot, and present at the opening oi the will. Mr. Evelyn left to me a legacy of a thousand pounds, and the sole guardianship of his daughter'* person till her eighteenth year, conjuring me, in the most affecting terms, to take the charge of hef education till she was able to act with propriety for herself; but, in regard to fortune, he left her wholly dependant on her mother, to whose tender* ness 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 mo* ther, 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 less afflicting than that which I have since sustained of Mrs. Villars 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 sup- ported by me, the misery and disgrace which await- ed her might perhaps have been avoided. But, to be brief — Madame Duval, at the instigation of her husband, earnestly, or rather tyrannically, endea- r. 2 16 EVELINA. voured to effect an 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 un- kindness, and threatened her with poverty and ruin. Miss Evelyn, to wiiom wrath and violence had hitherto been strangers, soon grew weary of such usage, and rashly, and without a witness, consent- ed to a private marriage with Sir John Belmont, a very profligate young man, who had but too suc- cessfully found means to insinuate himself into her favour. He promised to conduct her to England — he did. — O, Madam, you know the rest ! — Disap- pointed of the fortune he expected, by the inexor- able 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 mix- ed 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. Every body believed her innocent, from the guilt- less tenor of her unspotted youth, and from the known libertinism of her barbarous betrayer. Yet her suflerings 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 EVELINA. 17 date of lier letter to your Ladyship, I had never heard that she manifested any 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 che- rished, succoured, and supported her, from her ear- liest infancy to her sixteenth year; and so amply has she repaid my care and idlection, that my fond- est wish is now circumscribed l)y the desire of be- stowing 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, daughier, and grand-daughter, 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, 1 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 barljarous 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 insensible 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, with- out exciting apprehensions and terrors which al- most overpower me. Such, Madam, is my tender- ness, 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 seyerity. c 3 18 EVELINA. 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. LETTER in. [Written some months after the last.] LADY HOWARD TO THE REV. MR. VILLARS. BEAR AND REV. SIR, Howafd Grovc, March 8. Your last letter gave me infinite pleasure : after so long and tedious an illness, how grateful to your- self and to your friends must be your returning health ! You have the hearty wishes of every in- dividual of this place for its continuance and in- crease. Will y©u not think I take advantage of your ac- knowledged 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, tho' 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 meet again the friend of her infancy; and, for my own part, it is very strongly my wish to manifest the regard 1 had for the unfortunate Lady Belmont, by proving ser- viceable 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 1 have formed, in consequence of your restoration to health. I would not frighten you ; — but do you think you EVELINA. \S 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 grand-child will accompany her: I^'ow, my good iriend, 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 pro- perly, and in due time, they see it such 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 es- teemed as Mr. Villars, by His most faithful, humble seryant, M. HOWARD. LETTER IV. MR. VILLAINS TO LADY HOWARD. Berry Hill, March 12, I AM grieved. Madam, to appear obstinate, and I blush to incur the imputation of selfishness. In de- taining my young charge thus long with mytelf in 20 EVELINA. the country, I consulted not solely my own inclina- tion. Destined, in all probability, to possess a very moderate fortune, 1 wished to contract her views to something wi'hin it. The mind is but too naturally prone to pleasure, but too easily yielded to dissipa- tion : it has been my study to guard her against their delusions, by preparing her ^o expect — and to despise them. But the time draws on for experi- ence and observation to take place of instruction : if I have, in some measure, rendered her capable of using o)ie with discretion, and making the other with iiuprovement, I shall rejoice myself with the assurance of having largely contributed to her wel- fare. She is now of an nge 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 satis- fied 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 Lady- ship be serious in proposing to introduce her to the gaieties of a London life ? Permit me to ask, for what end, or for what purpose ? A youthful mind is seldom totally free from ambition ; to curb that, is the first step to contentment, since to diminish ex- pectation is to increase enjoyment. I apprehend nothing more than too much raising her hopes and her views, which the natural vivacity of her dispo- sition would render but too easy to effect. The t®wn-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 EVELINA. 21 loo little wealth to be sought with propriety by men <)f the fashionable world. Consider, Madam, the peculiar cruelty of her situation. Only child of a wealth)'^ Baronet, whose person she has never seen, whose character she has reason to ablior, 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 ov\n her? And while he continues to perseveie in disavowing his marriage with Miss Evelyn, she shall never, at the expense of her mo- ther'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 expectations to adoption and friendship. Yet her income will be such as may make her hnppy, if she is disposed to be so in private life f 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 th.e splendor of high lile ; 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 vvill be honoured with your approbation; and I have yet another motive which has some weight with me : I would not willingly give offence to any human being ; and surely Ma- dame Duval might accuse me of injustice, if, while I refuse to let her grand-daughter 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 arise ; and therefore Mrs. Clinton, a most 22 EVELINA. 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 AnviJle, and reported in this neighbourhood that her father, my intimate friend, left her to my guardian- ship ; yet I have thought it necessary she should herself be acquainted with the melancholy circum- stances attending her birth : for though I am very desirous of guarding her from curiosity and imper- tinence, 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 of her ; 1 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 VILLARS. LETTER V. MR. VILLARS TO LADY HOWARD. DEAR MADAM, March 18. This letter will be delivered to you by my child, — the child of my adoption, — my affection ! Unblest EVELINA. 23 with one natural friend, she merits a thousand. I send her to you innocent as an angel, and artless at 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 grati- tied. A. VILLARS. LETTER VI. LADY HOWARD TO THE REV. MR. VILLAHS. DEAR AND REV. SIR, Howard Grove. The solemn manner in which you have committed your child to my care, has in some measure damped the pleasure which 1 receive from the trust, as it makes me fear that you suffer from your compli- ance, in which case I shall very sincerely blame myself for the earnestness with v.hich I have re- quested 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 monopolize her : neither ought you, at finding it impossible. Her face and person answer mj^ most refined ideas of complete beauty : and this, though a subject of praise less important to you or to me thanaiiy other, is yet so striking, it is not possible to pass it unno- 4 24 EVELINA. ticed. Had I not known from whom she received her education, I should, at first sight of so perfect a face, liave been in pain for her understanding : since it ha 2 EVELINA. 27 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, MissMirvan is mak- ing caps ; every body so busy ! — such flying from room to room ! — so many orders given and retracted, and given again, nothing but hurry and perturba- tion. 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 writ- ing i — 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 pleasure* 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 parry ! Yet I am not vtry eager to accompany them : at least I shall he contented to remain where I am, if you desire that I should. Assured, my dearest Sir, of j^our 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 suspence, perhaps I may Aopc; but I am most cer.ain, that when you have once determined 1 shall not rejjine. Ttjey tell me that London is now in full splendour. Two play-houses are open, — the Opera-house, — Ranelagh, — and the Pantheon. — You see 1 have learned all their names. However, pray don't sup- D 2 28 EVELINA. pose that I make any point of going, for I shall hardly sigh, to see them depart without me, though J shall probably never meet with such another op- portunity. 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 1 would not be urgent; but n)y 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 moie I think of this affair, the less indifferent to it I find myself. Adieu, my most honoured, most reverenced, most beloved 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 dis- pleasure 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 Anville, and what other name may I claim. LETTER IX. MR- VILLARS TO EVELINA. Berry Hill, March 2S. To resist the urgency of intreaty, is a power which I have not yet acquired : I aim not at an authority EVELINA. 29 which deprives you of liberty, yet I would faia 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 1 daily ofter 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 e\es in the arras of one so dear— so deservedly beloved ! ARTHUR VILLARS. 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. lam quite inecstacy. So isMiss 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 Londonize ourselves ; but we teased her into compliance, and so w^e are to sit in some obscure pb.ce that she may not be seen. As to me, I should be alike unknown in the most con- spicuous or most private part of the house. I can write no more now. I have hardly time to D 3 30 EVELINA. breathe — only just this, the houses and streets are not quite so superb as I expected. However, I have seen nothing yet, £0 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 tlianks for your consent is still on the road. Saturday Night. O, my dear Sir, in what raptures am I returned ; Well may Mr. Garrick be so celebrated, so univer- sally admired — I had not any idea of so great a performer. Such ease ! such vivacity in his manner 1 such grace in his motions ! such fire and meaning in his eyes ! — I 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 melodio.us, yet so wonderfully various in its tones ! — Such animation ! — every look speaks ! I would have given the world to have had the whole playacted 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 wonH say any 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 th« sweetest girl in the world. I shall write to you every evening all that passei 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 EVELINA. 3 1 afterwards we walked in the Mall of St. James's Park, which by no means answered my expecta- tions : 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 sur- prised. However, the walk was very agreeable to us ; every body looked gay, and seemed pleased ; and the ladies were so much dressed, 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 be- fore. I looked about for some of rny acquaintance, but in vain; for 1 saw not one person that I knew, which is very odd, ior 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 Gar- dens; but really, if you had seen how much every body was dressed, you would not think that pos- sible. 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-shoppirig 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 32 EVELINA. room to room with so much ceremony, that at first I was almost afraid to go on. I 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 every thing they showed me. And indeed they took so much trouble, that 1 was almost ashamed I could not. At the milleners, the ladies we met were so niuch dressed, that I should rather have imagined they were making visits than purchases. But what most diverted me was, that we were more fiequently served by men than by women; and such men ! so finical, so affected ! they seamed to understand every part of a woman's dress better than we do ourselves ; and they recommended caps and rib- bands with an air of so much importance, that I wished to ask them how long they had left off wear- ing them. The dispatch with which they work in these great shops is an^azini:, for they have promised me a com- plete suit of linen against the evening. I have just had my hair dressed. You can't think how oddly my head fVels; full of powder and black pins, and a grtat cushion on the top of it. I believe you wouM harsions. 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 laie by the milliners making us wait for our things. He seemed very desirous of entering into conver- sation 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 miiid prevented my returning to my seat, and declining to dance at all. He appeared to be surprised at uiy tenor, which I believe was but too apparent : however, he asked no questions, though I fear ha must think it very strange, for I did not choose to tell him it was owing to my never before dancing but with a school-girl. His conversation was senr^ible and spirited ; his air and address were opea and noble ; his manners gentle, attentive, and infrviteiy engaging ; his per- son is all elegance, and his countenance the most Climated and expressive I have ever seen. 56 fiVELINA. In a short time we were joined by Miss Mii'vaiij, who stood next couple to us. But how was I start- led 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 tear doing something wrong ! That he should be so much my superior every way, quite disconcerted me ; and you will suppose uiy 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, 1*11 sit down till the ntxt. So will i loo, then, ciied I, for I am sure I can hardly stand. But you must speak to your partner first, an- swered she ; for he had turned aside to talk with some gentlemen. However, I had not sufficient courage to address him ; and so away we ail three tript, and seated ourselves at another end of the room. But, unfortunately for rne. Miss Mirvan soon after sallered herself to be prevailed upon to at- tempt the dance; and just as she rose to go, she cried. My dear, yonder is your partner, Lord Or- ville, 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 woHd to havoi 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. EVELINA. 37 My confusion increased when I observed that he was every where seeking me, with apparent per- plexity 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 think of a word to say for myself; and so I rose, and walked hastily tov»'-ards the card-room, resolv- ing to stay with Mrs. Mirvan the rest of the even- ing, 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 com- mands to her? O, by no means ! Was there any other person with whom I wished to speak r I said nOi 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 w^as quite ashamed of being so troublesome, and so much above myself a=; these seeming airs made me appear ; but indeed I was too much confused to think or act with a.ny consistency. If he had not been as swifc as lightning, I do'nt kno\Y whether I should not have stolen away again ; VOL. I. E 38 EVELINA. but he returned in a moment. When I had drank a glass of lemonade, he hoped, he said, that I wouhl again honour him with my hand, as a new dance was just begun. 1 had not the presence ot 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 un- easiness ; for he intreated me to sit down again if dancing w^as disagreeable to me. But I was quite satisfied with the folly I had already shewn; and therefore declined hisolTer, though I was really scarce able to stand. Under such conscious disadvantages, 3'ou may easil}'^ imagine, my dear Sir, how ill 1 acquitted mvself. But, though I both expected and deverved tofind him very much mortified and displeased at his ill fortune in the choice he bad made ; yet, to my very great relief, he appeared to be even con- tented, and very much assisted and encouraged me. These people in high life have too much pre- sence 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 fed me to a seat, saying that he v^ould 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 mii^ht I have been engaged ! it was then I saw that the rank ofL'^rd Orville was his least recommenda- tion, his understanding and his manners being far rncre distinguished, his remarks upon the com- EVELmA. 3<^ pany in general were bo apt, so just, so lively, I am almost surprised myselfthat they did nof 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 mIs pleasantry : so seif-compassion gave me feeling for othr-rs. Yet I had not the courage to attempt either to defend them, or fo rally ni my turn ; but listened to him in silent embari assment. 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 dis- course 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 a great 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, 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 more delectable — than what 1 have the honour to offer — but — I interrupted nim — I blush for my folly, — with laughing; yet I could not help it; for, added to the man's stately foppishness, (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. E 2 40 EVELINA. I had not laughed before from the tirae I had left Miss Mh'van, and I had much better have cried then ; Lord Orville actually stared at me : the beau, I know not his name, looked quite enraged. Re- frain 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 at- tribute 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 1 was, that I had not once considered the impropriety of refusing one partner, and afterwards accepting another. I was thunderstruck at the re- collection : but v.hile 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 v/ith a grin the most malici- ous 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 any thing 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! EVELINA. 41 Give me leare to see, answered he. I bowed and sat down, 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 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 pre- sently left us. I then told Mrs. Mirvan my disas- ters; 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. However, the man may, I think, be sa- tisfied with his pretty speech, and carry his resent- ment no farther. In a short time Lord Orville returned. I con- sented, with the best grace I could, to go down an- other 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, compared to a man of his rank and figure ; yet since he had been so mifortunate 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, ratfier, I fancied, he had been inqu'irmg %vho I was. This again disconcerted me ; and the spirits I had determmed to exert again failed me. Tired, ashamed, and mortified, 1 begged to sit down till we returned home, which I did soon after. Lord Or- ville did me the honour to hand me to the coach, talking all the way of the honour I had done him! O these fashionable people ! E 3 43 EVELINA. Well, my dear Sir, was it not a strange evening? I could not help being thus particular, because, to me, every 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 of 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 at first be startled at my vanity ; but, my dear Sir, have pa- tience ! It must have passed while I was silting 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 silent 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, shak- ing his head. EVELINA. 43 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. Ad- dressing Lord Orvilie 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, im- possible ! that elegant face can never be so vile a mask ! 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. 1 was so w^holly ignorant, said Lord Orvilie grave- ly, of the provocation you might have had, that 1 could not but be surprized at your singular resent- ment. 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. 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 man- ners. 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 Orvilie j 44 EVELINA. your Helen fast 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 pre- tend to determine; but certain it is she attended to alii could say to her, though I have really fatigued myself with fruitless endeavours to entertain her, with the most immoveable 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 is 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 ? Apoorweak girl! ig- norant or vmchievous ! What mortifying words ! I am resolved, however, that I will never again be tempted to go to an assembly. I wish 1 had been in Dorsetshire. Well, after this, you will not be surprized that Lord Oiville contented himself with an enquiry after our healths this moining, by his servant, without troubling himself to call, as Miss Mirvan had told me he would; but perhaps it maybe only a country custom. I would not live here for the world. I care not how soon we leave town. London soon grows tire- some. I wish the Captain would come. Mrs. Mir- van talks of the opera for this evening; however, I am very indifierent about it. Wednesday morning. Well, my dear Sir, I have been pleased against my will, I could almost say : for I must own I went EVELINA. 45 out in very ill humour, vvhieii 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. 1 wish the opera was every 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 di serious opera, as the comic hrst singer was ill. Toniglit we go to Ranelagh. If any of those three gentlemen 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 confused ! — 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, stopt to hear a singer. He bowed tome; I courtesied, 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 when- ever he chanced to meet my eyes, he condescended to bow. I cannot be but hurt at the opinion be entertains of me. It is true my own behaviour incurred it — • yet he is himself the most agreeable, and, seem- ^^^Sb> ^^^ most amiable man in the world, and 46 EVELINA. therefore it is that I am grieved to be thought ill of by him ; for of vvho^e esteem ought we to be am- bitious, if not of those who most merit our own r — But it is too late to reflect upon this now. Well, 1 can't help it. — However, I think I have done with assemblies. This morning was destined for seeing sights, auc- tions, curious shops, and so forth; but my head ached, and I was not in a humour to be amused, and so I made them go without me, though very un- willingly. They are all kindness. And now I am sorry I did not accompany then), for I know not what to do with myself. I had re- solved not to go to the play to-night ; but I believe I shall. In short, I hardly care whither 1 do or not. * -x- * * * * I thought I had done wrong ! Mrs. Mirvan and Maria have been half the town over, and so en- tertained! — while I, like a fool, staid 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 to- gether; but she gave me no account of the con- versation. 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 hav- ing indulged my ill humour. Thursday Night. We are just returned from the play, which was King Lear, and has made me very sad. We did not see any body 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 surlv, vulgar, and disagreeable. EVELINA. 47 Almost the same moment that Maria was pre- sented to him, he began some rude jests upon the bad shape of her nose, and called her a tall ill-form- ed thing. She bore it with the utmost good hu- mour ; 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. 1 cannot ima- gine why the family was so rejoiced at his return. If he had spent his whole life abroad, I should have iupposed they might rather have been thankful than sorrowful. However, I hope they do not think 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 every body was dressed in so high a style, that if I had been less delighted with the perform- ance, 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 Wednes- day we return to Howard Grove. The Captain says he won't stay here to be smoked xvith filth any longer ; but having been seven years smoked with a burning sun, he will retire to the country, and sink into a fair ii-:ather chap. Adieu my dear Sir. 43 EVELINA. LETTER XIII. EVELINA IN CONTINUATION. MY DEAR SIR, Tuesday, April 11. 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 I 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. But I should have told you, that I made man}^ objections to being of the party, accord- ing to the resolution I had formed. However, Maria laughed me out of my scruples, and so once again I went to an assembly. Miss Pvlirvan 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 though 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 desi- rable 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 ab- surdity, 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 EVELINA. 4l> Mrs. Miivan's acquaintance ; for she had told us it was highly improper for young women to dance with strangers at an}^ 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 con- versation in the free style which only belongs to old and intimate acquaintance. But, what was most provoking, he asked me a thousand questions con- cerning the partner to zvho?n I zuas engaged. And at last he said. Is it really possible thai a man whom you have honoured with your acceptance can fail to be at hand to profit from your goodness ? 1 felt extremely foolish ; and begged Mrs. Mirvan to lead to a seat ; which she very obligingly did. The Captain sat next 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 sup- jposition, saying, I really was off my guard, from astonishment that any man can be so much and sq VOL. I. F 50 EVELINA. uiiaccoiiiitably 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 j-ou are disconcerted. Ma- dam ; 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 T, quite terrified lest Mrs. Mirvan should attend to him ; for she looked very much surprised at seeing me enter into conver- sation 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 pa- tience on a monument, smile in the midst of disap- pointment ? — For my part, though I am not the of- fended person, my indignation is so great, that I long to kick the fellow round room ! — unless, in- deed, — (hesitating and looking earnestly at me,) unless, indeed, — it is a partner of your own creating ? I was dreadfully abashed, and could not make any answer. jSut no ! cried he (again, and with warmlh,) It EVELINA. 5 1 cannot be that you are so cruel ! Softness itself 'n panited in your eyes. — You could not, surely, have the barbarity so wantonly to trifle with my misery. I turned away from this nonsense with real dis- gust. Mrs. IMirvan saw my confusion, but was per- plexed w^hat 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 assurance 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 1 could without observing him, he suddenly stamped his foot, and cried out in a passion. Fool I ideot ! 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 slignt 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 vio- lent, and your injuries affect me ! I began to apprehend he was a roadman^ and stared at him wnth the utmost astonishment. I see you are moved. Madam, said he ; generous crea- ture! — but don't be alarmed, I am cool again, 1 am indeed, — upon my soul I am ; — 1 intreat you, most lovely of mortals ! I intreat 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 lan- guage and vour manners. F 2 52 EVELINA. 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 at a quick pace out of sight in a moment; but before I had time to con- gratulate myself, he was again at my elbow. And could you really let me go, and not be sorry? — Can you see me suffer torments inexpressi- ble, and yet retain all your favour for that miscreant who flies you ? — Ungrateful puppy ! — I could basti- nado him! For Heaven's sake, my dear, cried Mrs. Mirvan, who is he talking of? Indeed — I do not know. Madam, 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, saidthe man (who looked delighted, to Mrs. Mirvan,) you, I hope, will have the good- ness to speak for me. Sir, answered she gravely, I have not the plea- sure of being acquainted with you. I hope when you have. Ma'am, cried he, un- daunted, you will honour me with your approba- tion : 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 EVELINA. .'iS do not at all mean. Sir, to doubt your being a gen- tleman, — but — But xvhat, Madam ? — that doubt removed, why a. hut? Well, Sir, said Mrs. Mirvan (with a good humour- ed smile,) I will even treat you with your own plain- ness, and try what eft'ect 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 ojice for all; no, if / have been too plain , and though a man, de- serve a rebuke, remember, dear ladies, that if you copy^ you ought in justice 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 soli- cit. Permit me. Madam, the honour of this young lady^s hand ; it will be a favour I shall ever most gratefully acknowledge. Sir, answered she, favours and strangers have with me no connection. If you have hitherto, said he, confined your bene- volence 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 stopt her but with so many urgent intreaties, 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 j F 3 54 EVELINA. but this impetuous man at length prevailed, and I was obhged to consent to dance with him. And thus was my deviation from truth punished ; and thus did this man's determined boldness con- quer. During the dance, before we were too much en- gaged in it for conversation, he was extremely pro- voking 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 ob- vious. 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 sup- pose, I was not much pleased to see him, in a few minutes after 1 was gone, walk towards ihe place I had just left, and bow to and join Mrs. Mirvan ! How unlucky I thought myself, that I had not longer withstood this stranger's importunities ! The moment we had gone down the dance, 1 was has- tening away from him; but he stopt me, and said, that 1 could by no means return to my party with- out giving offence, before we had done our ditty of zvalking 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 hap- piness for this evening. Good Heaven! what is it I have done; — How have I merited this scorn ? You have tormented me to death j you have EVFXINA. 55 forced me from ray friends, and intruded yourself upon me, against my will, for a partner. Surely, my dear Madam, we ought to be better friends, since there seems to be something of sym- pathy 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 I 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 acquaint- ed, 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 — 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, hut for me, your partner would have appeared ? — poor fellow ! — and did my presence awe him? 1 wish his presence, Sir, could aweyouf His presence ! — perhaps then you see him ? Perhaps, Sir, I do, cried I, quite wearied of his raillery. Where ? where ? — for Heaven's sake shew me the wretch ! Wretch, Sir ! 56 EVELINA. O, a very savage ! — a sneaking, shame-faced, des- picable puppy ! I know not wliat bew^itched me — but my pride was hurt, and my spirits were tired, and — in short I had the folly, looking at Lord Orville, to repeat. Despi- cable, 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 teas- ing by his mistake. The very moment we had done what he called our duty, I eagerly desired to return to Mrs, Mir- van. To your partner, I presume, INIadam ? said he, very gravely. This quite confounded me. I dreaded lest this mischievous man, ignorant of his rank, should ad- dress himself to Lord Orville, and say something which might expose my artifice. Fool ! 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 jDropose going down another dance, though I was ready to sink with shame while I spoke. But your partner. Ma'am ? said he, aflecting a very solemn air, perhaps he may resent my detain- ing you: if you will give me leave to ask his con- sent Not for the universe. Who is he. Madam ? I wished myself a hundred miles off. He repeat- ed 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 EVELINA. 51 public with a stranger, — with one whose name you are unacquainted with, — who may be a mere adven- turer,-— a man of no character ; consider to what im- pertinence you may expose yourself. Was ever any thing 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 ray gravity ; but what was my consternation, when this strange man, destined to be the scourge of my artifice, ex- claimed. Ha! my Lord Orville ! — I protest I did not know your Lordship. What can I say for my usur- pation! — 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 un- justifiable than unsafe. Lord Orville — well he might — looked all amaze- ment. The philosophic coldness of your Lordship, con- tinued this odious creature, every man is not endow- ed with. I have used my utmost endeavours to en- tertain this lady, though I fear without success ; and your lordship will not be a little flattered, if ac- quainted with the difficulty which attended my pro- curing the honour of only one dance. Then, turn- ing to me, who was sinking v>dth shame, while Lord Orville stood motionless, and Mrs. Mirvan astonished — he suddenly seized my hiind, 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 befora he 5S EVELINA. 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 ! — 1 must beg Will you honour me, Madam, with your coni' mands, cried my tormentor ; may / seek the lady's party r No, Sir, answered I, turning from him. What shall be done, my dear ? said Mrs. Mirvan. Nothing, Ma'am ; — any thing, I mean • But do you dance, or not; you see his Lordship waits. 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, deter- mining 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 permis- sion ; which, if now granted, will 1 am persuaded, set every thing right. I glowed with indignation. No, Sir — it is your absence, and that alone, can set every thing 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 1 burst into teais. EVELINA. 59 They all seemed shocked and amazed. 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 comprehended all I would have explained. He immediately led me to a seat, and said in a low voice. Be not distressed, I beseech j^ou ; 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 but ill merited from him, led me to a chair; while the other followed, pes- tering 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 dis- pleasure. This morning Lord Orville has sent to inquire after our health; 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 somew hat account 60 EVELINA. for the strange, provoking, and ridiculous conduct of this Sir Clement last night; for Miss Mirvan says he is the ver}^ man with whom she heard Lord Or- ville 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 there- fore, I suppose, he concluded he might talk as much nonsense as he pleased to me: however, 1 am very indifferent as to his 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 1 — 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 Fantoccini. I cannot bear that Captain ; 1 can give you no idea how gross he is. I heartily rejoice that he was not present at the disagreeable conclusion of yesterday^s adventure, for 1 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 expence. 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 tow^n, w^here every thing 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 there- fore I will repress it. I shall write an account of the Fantoccini 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 m them. EVELINA. 6 1 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 Fantoccini, 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 ?.nd diverted us all, except the Captain, who has a fixed and most prejudiced hatred of whatever is not Enpjlish. When it was over, while we waited for the coach, a tall elderly woman brushed quickly past us, calling out. My God, what shall I do ? Why, what tcould you do ? cried the Captain. 3Ia 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 dilficult to discover whether she was an Eng- lish 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. Three was not one to be had, and it rained very fast. Mon Dieu ! exclaimed the stranger, what shall become of me ? Jesids au desespoir ! Dear Sir^ cried Miss Mirvan, pray let ws tak© VOL. I. G 62 EVELINA. 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 any thing 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, re- turned he; but first let us know if she be going our way. Upon enquiry, we found that she lived in Oxford Road ; and, after some disputing, the captain surlily and w ith 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 quar- relling 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 car- riage was abroad: and that she had waited for them till she was quite frightened, and concluded that they had lost themselves. And pray, said the Captain, why did you goto a public place without an Englishman ? Mafoi, Sir, answered she, because none of my acquaintance is in town. Why then, said he, Fll tell you what, your best way is to go out of it yourself. Fardi, Blonsicur, returned she, and so I shall; for, I promise you, I think the English a parcel of brutes : and Ell go back to France as fast as I can, for I would not live among none of you. EVELINA. 63 Who wants you ? cried the Captain ; do you sup- pose. 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 na- tion under the sun can beat the English for ill-polite- ness : for my part, I hate the very sight of tbem ; 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 toge- ther, for that's the fittest voyage for the French and the quality. We'Utake 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 dis- pute the point with you ; you and the quality may have the devil all to yourselves. Desirous of changing the subject of a conver- sation which now became very alarming, Miss Mirvan called out, Lord how slow the man drives ! Never mind, Moll, said her father, Fll warrant you he'll drive fast enough to-morrow, when you are going to Howard Grove. To Howard Grove ! exclaimed the stranger, why Mo7i Dieu, do you know Lady Howard ? Why^ what if we do } answered he ; that's no- thing to you ; she's none of i/our quality, Fll pro- mise you. Who told you that? cried she ; you don't know nothing about the matter ! besides, you're theill- bredest person ever I see : and as to your knowing Lady Howard, I don't believe no such a thing ; unless^, indeed, you are her steward. G 2 64 EVELIKA. The Captain, swearing terribly, said, with great fary. You 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 al- ready. Paupers, Mister ! — no more a pauper than your- self, nor so much neither; — but you are a low, dirty fellow ! and I shan't stoop to take no more no- tice of yon. Dirty fellow! exclaimed the Captain, seizing both her wrists, hark you, Mrs. Frog, youM 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 iisage. 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 an't Duval. I heard no more : amazed, frightened, and un- speakably shocked, an involuntary exclamation ot Gracious Heaven ! escaped me, and, more dead than alive, I sunk into Mrs. Mirvan's arms. But let me EVELINA. 65 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 be- come of me, were it not for you, my protector, my friend, and my refuge ? My extreme concern, and Mrs. Mirvan's surprize, immediately betrayed me. But I will not shock you with the manner of her acknowledging me, or the bitterness, the grossness — I cannot otherwise ex- press myself, — with which she spoke of those un- happy 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 me- mory, thit they rendered this interview — one only excepted — the most afflicting I can ever know. When we stopt at her lodgings she desired me to accompany 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 es- poused my cause to satisfy his own pique, though an awkward apology had passed between them) she Mas sent to us ; and so, dy'e 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 G 3 66 EVELINA. desired me to breakfast 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 meet- ing 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 softened me extremely ; but she very soon excited my warmest indignation, by the un- grateful 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 de- clared was the worst hus^band in the world, would not permit her to do any thing 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, 1 EVELINA. 67 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. J 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 DuvaPs wrath, by a very polite invitation to drink tea, and spend the evening here. Not without great ditficulty 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- cov^ered that Madame Duval was in it ; and to have staid here solely under her protection — Mrs. Mir- van, thank Heaven, was too kind for such a thought. That she should 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 hag, 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 no* thing more to fear. Adieu, my ever dear and most honoured Sir ! I shall have no happiness till I am again with you. 68 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 arri- val 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 meeting and its conse- quence ; to claim you seems naturally to follow acknowledging you. I am VAell 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 defe- rence due to so near a relation, remembering al- ways, 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 misconduct in another, the greater should be your observance and diligence to avoid even ihe shadow of similar errors. Be careful, therefore, 1 EVELINA. 69 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: disagreeable 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 for failings in all who were concerned in those unhappy transactions 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 1 hear of your safe arrival at Howard Grove, for which place 1 hope you will be preparmg at the time you receive this letter. I cannot too much thank you, my best Evelina, for the minuteness of your communications. Con- tinue to me this indulgence, for 1 should be misera- ble if in ignorance of your proceedings. How new to j^^ou is the scene of life in which you are engaged ! — balls — plays — operas — ridottos ! — Ah, my child ! at your return hither, how will you bear the change ? My heart trembles for your fu- ture tranquillity. — Yet I will hope every thing iO EVELINA. 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 Lhe 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 Wil- loughby, whose conversation and boldness are ex- tremely 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 YILLARS, 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 sur- prise, 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 desert. 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 dis- EVELINA. 71 pleased ; and after a short silence, very sternly said to Madame Duval, Pray, who asked you to bring that there spark with you ? Oh, cried she, I never go no where without him. Another short silence ensued, which was termi- nated by the Captain's turning roughly to the fo- reigner, and saying, Do you know, Monseer, that you are 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 leaned hack in his chair in gloomy silence, except when any opportunity offered of uttering sopje sarcasm upon the French. Finding her efforts to render the evening agreeable were fruitless, Mrs. Mirvan pro- posed a party to Ranelagh. Madame Duval joy- fully 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 up stairs 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 en- quiring after all our healths, and entered the room with the easy air of an old acquaintance ; though Mrs. Mirvan confesses that he seemed embarrassed when he found how coldly he v/as 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 down stairs till I was called to tea. He was then deeply engag* 72 EVELINA. ed in a discourse upon French manners with Ma- dame 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 ad- vanced 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 him- self upon his successful discernment. As soon as he saw me, he made a most respect- ful bow, and hoped I had not suffered from the fa- tigue 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 returned to the disputants ; where he managed the argument so skilfully, at once provoking Madame Duval, and delighting the Captain, that I could not forbear ad- miring his address, though 1 condemned his sub- tlety. Mrs. Mirvan, dreading such violent anta- gonists, attempted frequently to change the sub- ject : and she might have succeeded, but for the interposition 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 trem- bled 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 EVELINA. 75 our party : he had an engagement, he said, but would give it up to have that pleasure. Some little confusion ensued in regard to our manner of setting oiY. Mrs. IMirvan oflered Ma- dame Duval a place in her coach, and proposed that we four females should go all together ; however, this she rejected, declaring she would by 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 lor INIonsieur 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 Ma- dame 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 Wil- loughby, we should not have been able to procure a box (which is the name given to the arched re- cesses that are appropriated for tea-parties) till half the company had retired. As we were taking pos- session of our places, some ladies of Mrs. Mirvan's acquaintance stopped to speak to her, and persuaded her to take a round \\'\th 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 ^ea with us ; which, to my no small consternation, he accepted. VOL. I. H 74 EVELINA. I felt a confusion unspeakable at again seeini:^'- him, from the recollection of the ridotto adventure; nor did my situation lessen it ; i'or I was seated be- tween Madainc Duval and Sir Clement, who seemed as little as my.'_elf to desire Lord Orville's presence. Indeed, the c( ntinual wrangliniT 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 appearance, Irom ditlerent motives, gave an uni- versal restraint to every body. What his own rea- sons were for honouring us with his company, lean- not imagine; unless, indeed, he had a curiosity to know whether 1 should invent any new imperti- nence 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 look : I can't think what they wear them for. There is no 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 tantalizing a fashion : for, Avhcre there is beauty, they only serve to shade it; and, where there is none, to excite a most unavail- ing curiosity. I fancy they were originally worn by some young and whimsical coquette. More likely, answered the Captain, they were hivented by some wrinkled old hag, who'd a mind for to keep the young fellows in chace, let them be 75 ever s,o ^^ car}'. I dcn'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. EVELINA. TJ 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 tools 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 sniveler? Ay, now, cried Madame Djval, 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 ihem. Pray then, cried the Captain, since you know so much of the matter, be so good as to tell us what they do trouble their heads about ? — Hey, Sir Clement ! han'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. H 2 76 EVELINA. I assure you I am not going, answered she ; lof as to what they do do, why they've enough to do, I promise you, what with one thmg or another. But ivhat, what do they do, these hmous Monseers ? demanded the Captain; can't you tell us? do they ganje? — or drink? — or fiddle? — or aretheyjockeys ? —or do they spend all their time in flummering old women ? As to that. Sir — but indeed I shan't trouble my- self to answer such a parcel of low questions, so don't ask me no more about it. And then, to my gre^t 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 ? This 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. 1 thought you would like it, Sir, because you look so like a gentleman. As to the Captain, and as to that other gentleman, why they mav very wrll 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 iic keep company wiih r cried the Captain ; what, 1 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 vou make out that, hev. Madam ? EVELINA. ^7 come, please to tell me, where would be the good of that ? Where ! why a great deal. They'd make quite another person of you. What, I suppose you'd have me to learn to cut capers? — and dress like a monkey ? — and palaver in French gibberish ? — hey, would you? — And pow- der, and daub, and make myself up, like some other folks ? I would have you to 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 Englisli 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 hair- dresser, nor a shoemaker, 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 putf 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 dropt, and the conversation became calmly sociable, and politely cheerful, and, to every body but me, must have u 3 rS EVI-.LINA. been highly agreeable: — but, as to myself, I \vm so eagerly desirous of making some apology to Lord Orvilie, 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 1 had so ter- ribly 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 pos- sibly misconstrue whatever 1 should say. So that, far from enjoying a conversation which might, at any other time, have delighted me, I continued silent, uncomfortable, and ashamed. O, Sir, shall I ever again involve myself in so foolish an embar- rassment? I am sure that, if I do, I shall deserve yet greater mortification 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 Orvilie joined another parly, having first made an ofter 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 re- turn to town in the same manner we came to Ra- nelagh; 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 examination the coach was found to be in a dismal condition; fur 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 /disponed of as before ; but no sooner did the Captain EVELINA. 19 hear lli is account, than, without any ceremony, he Avas 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 vviih only the foreigner, or Sir Clement. never uiind the oUI beldame, cried the Cap- tain, she'-s weather-proof, I'll answer for her ; and besides, as we tire all, 1 hope, English, why, she'll meet with no worse than she expects from us. 1 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, accommodated. 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 horn, a fdthy Englishman. BIrs. Mirvan, however, prevailed ; and we all got out of the coach, to wait till INIadame Duval could meet with some better carriage. VVe found her, at- tended by Monsieur Du Bois, 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 raillerj' to ac- cept it. We waited some time, but in vain ; for no hackney-coach could be procured. The Cap- tain, at last, was persuaded to accompany Sir Cle- ment himself, and we four females were handed into Mrs. Mirvan's carriage, though not before Madame 8 EVELINA. Duval had insisted upon our making room for Mon- sieur 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 ar- rangement had made every one languid and fatigued. Unsociable, I must own, we continued ; 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 sup- pose 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 sud- denly 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 bark to Ranelagh. He enquired 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 party, for I was very uneasy to know whether they had been equal- ly 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 mo- EVELINA. 8 1 iiieiit, telling me that the rain was more violent than ever, and that he had sent his servants to offer their assistance, and acquaint the Mirvans oi 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 in- clination. Well, he drew a chair close to mine; and, after again enquiring 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 op- portunity 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 He stopt, but I said nothing; for I thought in- stantly of the conversation Miss Mirvan had over- heard, and supposed he was going to tell me himself what part Lord Orville had borne in it; and really I did not w^ish 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 ex- pose 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 ^errant, and I had the pleasure of seeing the Cap- tain, Mrs. and Miss Mirvan, enter the room. O ho ! cried the former, you have got a good warm birth here ; but we shall beat up your quar- ters. Here, Lucy, Moll, come to the fire, and dry your trumpery. But, hey-day — why where's old Madame French } 82 EVELINA, Good God, cried I, is not Madame Duval then with you ? With liie ! No, — thank God. I was very uneasy to know what might have be- come 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 Frevch beau would take care of her. We waited some time without any tidings, and were soon the only party in the room. My unea- siness increased so much that Sir Clement now made a voluntary offer of seeking her. However, the same moment that he opened the door 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 ! — entire- ly covered v*^ith mud, and in so great a rage, it was with difficulty she could speak. We all expressed our concern, and oflered our assistance — except the Captain, who no sooner beheld her than he burst out into a loud laugh. We endeavoured, by our enquiries and condole- ments, to prevent her attending to him ; and she was for some time so wholly engrossed by her anger and her distress, that w^e succeeded without much trouble. We begged her to inform us how this ac- cident 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 EVELINA. 83 with those of Madame Duval, and who, wet, shiver- ing, and disconsolate, had crejjt 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 slipt, — 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 w^e 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, ibr aught you all cared ; nobody never came near us. This recital put the Captain into an ecstacy ; he went from the lady to the gentleman, and from the gentleman to the lady, to enjoy alternately the sight of their distress. He really shouted with pleasure ; and, shaking Monsieur Du Bois strenu- ously by the hand, wished him joy of having touched English ground ; and then he held a candle to Ma- dame 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 unspeak- able ; she dashed the candle out of his hand, stamp- ed 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 o g4 EVELINA. fear : for be put his hands upon her shoulders, ami 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 in her own face. Monsieur Du Bois, who had seated himself very quietly at the fire, approached them, and expostu- lated 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 intreated her to per- mit the woman who has the charge of the ladies cloaks to assist in drying her clothes; she consent- ed, and we did what was possible to save her from catching cold. We were obliged to wait in thi* disagreeable situation near an hour before a hack- ney-coach could be found ; and then we were dis- posed in the same manner as before our accident. I am going this morning to see poor Madame Du- val, 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. LETTER XVII. EVELINA IN CONTINUATION. Friday Morning, 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 EVELINA. 85 Monsieur Du Bois was in the chamber ; which so- much astonished me, that I was, involuntarily, re- tiring, without considering how odd an appearance my retreat would have, v\hen 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 brutalitx/ of that felloiu the Captain, and the horrible ill-breeding of the Eng- lish in general ; declaring, she should make her es- cape with all expedition from so beast!]/ a nation. But nothing can be more strangely absurd, than to hear politeness recommended in language so repug- nant to it as that of Madame Duval. She lamented, very mournfully, the fate of her Lyons silk ; and protested she had rather have part- ed with all the rest of her wardrobe, because it wa* the first gown she had bought to wear upon leaving oft" her weeds. She has a very bad cold, and Mon- sieur Du Bois is so hoarse, he can hardly speak. She insisted upon my staying w ith her all day ; as she intended, she said, to introduce me to someot my own relations. 1 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 or> mine, filled up all the time we passed together. Her curiosity was insatiable ; she enquired into every action of my life, and every particular that had fal- len under my observation in the lives of ail I knew. Again, she w^as so cruel as to avow the most invete- rate rancour against the sole benefactor her deserted child and graml-child have metwith ; and such was the indignation her ingratitude raised, that I would actually have quitted her presence and house, had she not, in a manner the most peremptory, absoiute- VOL. I. I 86 EVELINA. ly forbad 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 sub- ject is started. She talked very much of taking me to Paris, and said I greatly wanted the polish of a French educa- tion. She lamented that I had been brought up in the country, which, she observed, had given me a very bumpkinish air . However, she bad me not des- pair, 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 chan- dler'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 qua- lity. The relations to whom she was pleased to intro- duce me, consisted of a Mr. Branghton, who is her nephew, and three of his children, the eldest of whom 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 school-boy, whose mirth consists in noise and disturbance. He disdains his father for his close attention to business, and love of mor ney ; 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 ridi- culing his sisters ; who in return, most heartily des- pise him. EVELINA. 87 P»Iiss Branghton, the eldest daughter, is by no means ugly; but looks proud, ill-tempered, and con- ceited. She hates the city, though without know- ing why ; for it is easy to discover she has lived no where else. Miss Polly Branghton is rather pretty, very fool- ish, very ignorant, very giddy, and, I believe, very good-natured. The first half-hour was allotted to making iheni- sehes comfortable; for they complained of having had a very dirty walk, as they came on foot from Snow-Hill, where Mr. Branghton keeps a silver- smith's shop ; and the yoimg ladies had not only their coats to brush, and shoes to dry, but to adjust their head-dress, which their bonnets had totally discomposed. 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 mama's undutifulness, for she couldn't help it. Lord, no, answered she, and I never took no no- tice of it to her: for, indeed, as to that, my own poor daughter was'nt 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"*!! talk o' somewhat else, for Miss looks very uneasy- like, I 2 SS EVELINA. 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 waf 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 ano- ther, they were extremely quarrelsome ; the bro- ther insisted upon their measurin g/afr, and not with heads and heels; but they would by no means con- sent to lose those privileges of our sex ; and there- fore the young man was ca.s^, as shortest; though he appealed to all present upon the injustice of the decree. This ceremony over, the young ladies began, very freely, to examine my dress, and to interrogate me concerning it. This apron's your own work, I suppose. Miss? but these sprigs a'n't in fashion now. Pray, if it is not itnpertinenr, 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 how I liked London ? and whe- ther I should not think the country a very dull place y 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 pul)lic places, or rather the theatres, for they knew of no other; and the merits and defects of all the actors and actresses were dis- ru'jsed ; tb.e vouno^ man here took the lead, and seem- EVELINA. 89 ed 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 daugh- ter was soon drawn to them by the recital ; the voungest and the son stiil kept their places ; intend- ing, I believe, to divert me, though the conversation was all their own. In a few minutes, Miss Branghton, coming sud- denly 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, not- withstanding my earnest intreaties 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 ex- traordinary, that she can put me in situations so shocking, and th^n wonder to find me sensible of any concern ? Mr. Branghton junior now inquired of me, whe- ther I had seen the Tower, or St. Paul's church ? and upon my answering in the negative, they pro- posed making a party to shew them to me. Among other questions, they also asked, if I had ever seen such a t/trn^ as an opera ? 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 'seex)ne, if f-Jive here as much longer. I 3 90 EVELINA. 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 iis very vulgar, said Miss Brangh- ton, 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 Iwenc towards Snovv-Hdl, they should be very glad if I would call upon them. I wish we may not meet again till that time arrives. 1 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 Ihave 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 down stairs; and who should I see in the drawing- room, but — LordOrville! He was quiie alone, for the family had not as- sembled to breakfast. He inquired first of mine, then of the health of Mrs. and Miss Mirvan, with z EVELINA. 51 degree of concern that rather surprised lue, till he said that he had just been infoimed of the accident we had met \^itii at Ranelagh. He expressed his sorrow upon the occasion with the utmost politeness, and lamented that he had not been so Ibrtunale 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. lie was with Captain Mirvan, my Lord. I had heard of his being of your party. I hope that flighty man has not been telling Lord Orville he only assisted vte ! 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, our stay has already exceeded our intentions. Are you, then, so particularly partial to the coun- try? We merely came to town, my Lord, to meet Cap- tain Mirvan. And does Miss Anville feel no concern at the idea of the many mourners her absence will occa- sion? O my Lord, — Fm sure you don't think — I stopl 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 sur- prised me, that I could not speak; but felt my£«lf 92 EVELINA. 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 ail on the stairs, and returned with them to breakfast. I have since been extremely angry with myself for neglecting so excellent an opportunity of apolo- gizing for my behaviour at the ridotto : but, to own the truth, that atfair never once occurred to me during the short tete-d-tete which we had together. But, if ever we should happen to be so situated again, I will certainly mention it; for I am inex- pressibly concerned at the thought of his harbouring an opinion that I am bold or impertinent, and I could almost kill myself for 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 particu- lar. 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 delight- ful. His manners are so elegant, so gentle, so un- assuming, 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 with- out any pretensions to his merit, he is most assidu- ously 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 conscious- ness. ^VtLlNA. 9 5 I could Hisb thatj/ow, my dearest Sir, knew Lord Orville, because 1 am sure you would love liim; 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, per- haps, 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. Lut 1 must not expatiate upon this subject. When Lord Orville was gone, — and he made but a very short visit, — 1 was preparing, most reluc- tantly, 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 uncontrolled mistress of her time, fortune, and actions, should choose to expose herself voluntarily to the rudeness of a man wlio is openly determined to make her his sport. But she has very few acquaintance; and, I fanc}', scarce knows how to employ herself. How great is my obligation to Mrs. Mirvan, for bestowing her time in a manner so disagreeable to herself, merely to promote my happiness ! Every dispute ill which her undeserving husband engages, is productive of pain and uneasiness to herself; of this 1 am so sensible, that I even besought her not to send to Madame Duval; but she declared sini couid not bear to have me pass all my time, while in town, with her only. Lideed she could not b? more kind to me, were she your daughter. 94 EVELINA. LETTILR 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 constant- ly together ; though I believe I should not have taken notice of it, but that Captain Mirvan is per- petually rallying me upon my grand-mama* 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 war77i room at Ranelagh, or the cold hath 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: be- sides it's no such great joke, to be splashed, and to catch cold, and spoil all ©ne'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 hallooing ! such a poor forlorn draggletailed — gentlezcoman .' and poor Monseer French, here, like a drowned rat, by your side ! — Well, the worse pickle we was in, so much the w^orser 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 snigger : so EVELINA. 95 it's like enough you jostled us down yourself; for Monsieur Du Bois saj^s, 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 en- tirely innocent of the charge : however, he dis- claimed 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 afTront you by supposing a Frenchman would want my as- sistance to protect you. Did you think that Mon- seer 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 man- ners ; 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, Mon~ seer and you settled that between yourselves, so it was no business of mine. What, then, I suppose you want to make me believe as Monsieur du Bois served me that trick o' purpose r 56 EVELINA. O' purpose ! ay, certainly ; whoever doubted that? Do you think a Frenchman ever made a blun- der ? If he had been some clumsy-footed English fellow, indeed, it might have been accidental : but what the devil dignities all your hopping and caper- ing with your dancing-masters, if you can't balance yourselves upright ? In the midst of this dialogue. Sir Clement Wil- loughby made his appearance. He affects to enter the house with the freedom of an old acquaintance ; and this very easiness, which, to me, is astonishing, is what most particularly recommends him to the Captain. Jndeed, 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 mat- ter of a dispute between this here gentlewoman and I ; do you know she has been trying to per- suade me, thai she did not above half like the duck- ing Monseer gave her t'other night. I should have hoped, said Sir Clement with the utmost gravity, that the friendship subsisting be- tween 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 dropt 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 Fm 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 EVELINA. 9*7 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 otiend 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 suftered,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 me- mory, aver, that this 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. 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 down stairs, Madame Duval, in a very passionate manner, said Mafoi, if I wouldn^t give fifty guineas only to know who gave us that shove ! This Museum is very astonishing, and very su- perb ; yet it afforded me but little pleasure, for it is a mere show, though a wonderful one. Sir Clement Willoughby, in our w^alk round the room, asked me what my opinion was of this brilli- ant spectacle! It is very fine, and very ingenious, answered I; and yet — I don't know how it is — but I seem to jniss something. VOL. I. K <)8 EVELINA. Excellently answered! cried he; you have ex- actly 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 expence of your understanding. Parcli, cried Madame Duval, I hope you two is difficult enough ! I'm sure it you don't like this you like nothing; tor 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 r it's like enough, for it's all kickshaiu work. But pr'ythee, fiiend, 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 disdain- fully ; Lord, if every thing's to be useful ! — Why, Sir, as to that, said our conductor, the in- genuity of the mechanism — the beauty of the work- manship — the — undoubtedly, Sir, any person of taste may easily discern the utility of such extraor- dinary performances. Why then. Sir, answered the Captain, your per- son of taste must be either a coxcomb, or a French- man ; 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, which immediately began to sing. Well, cried Madame Duvai, this is prettier than all the rest ! I declare in all my travels, 1 never see nothing cleganter. Hark ye, friend, said the Captain, hast never ano- ther pine-apple ? Sir t Because if thou hast, pr'ythee give it us without the birds; for, d'ye see, 1 am no Frenchman, and should relish something more substantial. EVELINA. 99 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 extasies; and the Captain flung him- self 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 Coronation Anthem, while Madame Duval was aflfecting to beat time, and uttering many ex- pressions 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 sur- prise 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 appeased her, and they had a violent quar- rel ; but the only effect her anger had on the Cap- tain, was to increase his diversion. Indeed, he laughs and talks so terribly loud in public, that he fre- quently 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 : 'owever, she had a bad cold and chose to nurse it. I was sorry for her in- disposition ; 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. K 2 100 EVELINA. LETTER XX. EVELINA IN 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. We had not been seated five minutes before Lord Orville, whom we saw in ihe stage-box, came to us ; and he honoured us with his company all the even- ing; 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 W'Ould 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 Love for Love ; and though it is fraught with wit and entertainment I hope 1 shall never see it represented again ; for it is so extreme- ly indelicate — to use the softest word I can — that Miss Mirvan and I were perpetually out of counte- nance, 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 ex- cellent spirits, and exceedingly entertaining. When the play was over, I flattered myself I should be able to look about me with less re.-traint, as we intended to stay the farce; but the curtain had hardly dropped, when the box-door opened, and in came Mr. Lovel, tlie man by whose foppery and impertinence I was so much teazed at the ball where 1 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 coai- EVELINA. IGl pliments to Lord Orville and Sir Clement Willough- by, who returned them very coldly, he bent his head forward and said to me, I hope. Ma'am, you have enjoyed your health since I had the honour — I beg ten thousand pardons, but, I protest I was going to say the honour of dancing whh you — however, I mean the honour of seeing you dance ? He spoke with a selt-complacency that convinced me that he had studied this address, by way of making reprisals for my conduct at the ball; I there- fore bowed slightly, but made no ansvver. After a short silence he again called my attention, by sajing, in an easy negligent w^ay, I think. Ma'am, you was never in town before ? — No, Sir. So I did presume. Doubtless, Ma'am, every thing must be infinitely novel to you. Our customs, our manners, and les etiquettes de nous autres, can have very little resemolance to those you have been used to. I imagine, Ma'am, your retirement 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 ever since thought my vexation both stimulated and delighted him. The air we breathe here, however. Ma'am, con- tinued 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, {{health were the only cause of a lady's bloom, my ej^e, I grant, had been infallible from the first glance ; but- Come, come, cried Mrs. Mirvan, I must beg no insinuations of that sort ; Miss Anville's colour, as you have successfully tried, may, you see, be heightened ; but, I assure you, it would be past your still to lessen it. K 3 102 EVELLVA. ■'Pon honour, Madam, returned he, you wrong me ; 1 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 flushmg — anger — mauvaise home — and so forth, that I never dare decide to \vhich it may be owing. As to such causes as them there, cried the Cap- tain, they must belong to those that they keep com- pany with. Very true. Captain, said Sir Clement; the natural complexion has nothing to do with occasional sallies of the passions, or any accidental causes. No, tiuiy, returned the Captain : for now here's me, why 1 look like any olher 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 hioh colour as any painted Jezebel in all tiiis piace, be she never so bedaubed. But, said Lord Orville, the difference of natural and of artificial colour seems to me very easily dis- cerned ; that of nature is mottled^ and varjn'ng ; that of mt set, and too smooth ; it wants that animation, that glow, that indescribable something, which even now that I see it, wholly surpasses all my powers of expression. Your Lordship, said Sir Clement, is universally acknowledged to be ^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. Pry'thee, a truce with atl 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 EVELINA. lOS subject. Pray, ladies, how have you been enter- tained 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 vvilh their approbation. What, I suppose it is not sentimental enongh ! cried the Captain, or else it is too good for them ; for ril maintain it's one of the best comedies in our language, and has more wit in one scene than there is in all the new plays put together. For my part, said Mr. Lovel, 1 confess I sel- dom listen to the players ; one has so much to do, jn 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, pray, — what wastlie 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 frequentl}^ ; I have no time to read play-bills ; one merely comes to meet one's friends, and shew that one's alive. Ha, ha, ha! — and so, cried the Captain, it costs you five-shillings a-night just to shew you're alive ! Well, faith, my friends should all think me dead and under ground before I'd be at that expence for 'em. Howsomever, — this here you may take from me — they'll find you out fast enough if yoii have any thing to give 'em. — And so you've been here all this time, and don't know what the play was ? W^hy, really. Sir, a play requires so much atten- tion, — it is scarce possible to keep awake if one listtns ;— for, indeed, by the time it is evening, ont 104. EVELINA. 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 Love, ay, — true, ha, ha I — 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 h^<^fob'd you off with a scrap- ing of fiddlers, or an opera ? — Ha, ha, ha ! — Why now I should have thought you might have taken some notice of one Mr. Tatlk ilmt is in this play r This sarcasm, which caused a general smile, made him colour: but turning to the C'aptain with a look of conceit, which injplied 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 con- tempt, answered in a loud voice. Think of him ! — why, I think he is 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 manilest 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 any thing about her. Well, really. Ma'am, you prodigiously surprise me ! mnis, apparemment ce n'est qu' une fuqon dt par- hr ? — though I should beg your pardon, forprobably you do not understand French? I made no ansAver, for I thoujj;ht his rudeness in- EVELINA. 105 tolerable; but Sir Clement, with great warmth, said, I am surprised that ^'ou can suppose such an object as Miss Prue would engage the attention of Miss Anville even for a moment. O, 8ir, 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, lia^ ha ! — 'tis most admirably hit otF 'pon honour ! I could almost have cried, that sucli impertinence should be levelled at me; and yet, chagrined a.s 1 was, I could never behold Lord Orville and this man at the same lime, and feel any regret for the cause 1 had given of displeasure. The only female in the play, said Lord Orville, worthy of being mentioned to these ladies is An- gelica. Angelica, cried Sir Clement, is a noble girl ; she tries her lover severely, but she rev.ards iiim ge- nerously. 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 JNIrs, Mir- van's, added Lord Orville, I will venture to sav, that Angelica bestows her hand rather with the air ot"a benefactress, than with the tenderness of a mis- tress. 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, how- ever, be owned, that uncertainly is not the tun 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 ue now are most «hy and backward. 106 EVELINA. The curtain then drew up, and our conversation ceased. Mr, Level, 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 is this crea- ture to talk to me in such a manner 1 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 re- sent his supposed ill-usage, I am really quite afraid of him. The entertainment was. The Deuce is in him ; which Lord Orville observed to be the most finished and e\eg?int petite piece that was ever written in Eng- lish. In our way home, Mrs. Mirvan put me into some consternation by saying, it was evident, from the re- sentment which this Mr. Lovel harbours of my con- duct, that he would think it a provocation sufficient- ly 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 re- vengefull However, if bravery would have excited him to aiiront 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 w^as speaking to me so cava- lieHy, Lord Orville regarded him with great indig- nation. EVELINA. 107 But, reall}', I think there ought to be a book of the laws and customs d-la-mode, presented to all young people upon their first introduction into public company. To-night Ave 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 XXL 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 Hay market ; but, in a few mo- ments, 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 deter- mined ril 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, 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 grand-mama as we go along. 108 EVELINA. 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 th« youngest; this young lady will make your excuses I dare say ; it's oidy 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 Eranghton, considering we only come to give our cousin pleasure ; it's no good to us ; it's ail 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 en- gaged to a' n't half so near related to you as we are. 1 must beg you not to press me any further, for I assure you it is not in my power to attend you. Why, we came all out of the city en purpose : besides, your grand-mama expects you; — and pray, what are we to say to her ? Tell her, if you please, that I am much concerned, —but that 1 am pre-engaged. And who to ? demanded the abrupt Miss Brangh- ton. To Mrs. Mirvan,-^ — and a large party. And, pray, what are you ail going to do, that it would be such a mighty matter for you to come along w ith us ? EVELINA. 109 We are all going to — to the opera. dear, if that be all, why can't we go all to- gether ? 1 was extremely disconcerted at this forward and ignorant behaviour, and yet their rudeness very much lessened my concern at refusing them. In- deed, their dress was such as would have rendered their scheme of accompanying our party imprac- ticable, even if I had desired it; and this, as they did 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 jMiss 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 explain- ed 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 apologize, and would have sent a long message to Madame Duval : but they has- tened away without listening to me ; and I could not follow them down sta^s, because I was not dressed. The last words I heard them say were. Well, her grand- mamma will be ia a fine passion, that\ believe that he had discovered me, high and distant as I was from him. Probably he dis- tinguished me by my head-dress. 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 ex- pressed 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 j— but here. 120 EVELINA. 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 furtlier cere- mony. However, so determined he was to be dissatis- fied 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 Milli- go'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 hearmg their observations, that I might listen without interruption : but, upon turning round, when the song was over, 1 found that I was the ob- ject of general diversion to the whole party ; for the Miss Branghions were tittering, and the two gentlemen making signs and fices at me, implying their contempt of my atfectation. This discovery determined me to appear as inat- tentive as themselves; but I was very much pro- voked 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, 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, s-iid the son, what makes that fellow look so doleful while he is singing ? Probably because the character he performs is in distress. Why, then, I think he might as well let alone EVELINA. 121 singing till he^s in better cue : it's out of all nature for a man to be niping when he's in distress. For my part, I never sing but when I'm merry j yet I love a song as well as most people. When the curtain dropt they all rejoiced. How do j/oM like it ? — and how do you like it? passed from one to another with looks of the utmost contempt. As for me, said Pvlr. 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 be- ginning to end. If I had been in the pit, said Madame Duval, I should have liked it vastly, for music is my pas- sion ; but sitting in such a place as this, is quite un- bearable. Miss Branghton, looking at me, declared, that she was not gented enough to admire it. Miss Polly confessed, that, if they^would but sing English, she would 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 ob- jection 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 real- ly I had already been so much chagrined that Sir VOL. I. M 1 22 EVELINA. Clement had been a witness of Madame Duvars power over me, that I could not b^ar to be exposed to any further mortification. As the seats cleared, by parties going away. Sir Clement approached nearer to us. The Miss Brangh- tons 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 at- tract his notice, by familiarity with me, whenever he should join us ; and so I formed a sort of plan to prevent any conversation. I'm afraid you will think it wrong ; and so I do myself now ; — but at the time, I only considered how I might avoid imme- diate 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 an hum- ble attendant, and therefore I am come to oiFer 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 turn- ed 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 1 may not crowd you in the coach. And then without waiting for an answer, I suffer- ed 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 can- not be surprised : but Mr. Branghton, I am sure, will easily comfort himself, in having escaped the additional coach-expence 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. 2 EVELINA. 123 My intention was to join Mrs. Mirvan, and ac- company her home. Sir Clement was in high spi- rits 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 down stairs, 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 he almost impossible to find her, an- swered he; but you 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. This quite startled me ; I turned to him hastily, and said that I could not think of going away with- out Mrs. Mirvan. But how can we meet wiih 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 si- lenced me. Yet, as soon as I could recollect my- self, I determined not to go into his chariot, and told him I believed I had best return to my party up stairs. He would not hear of this; and earnestly intreated me not to withdraw the trust I had reposed in him. While he was speaking, I saw Lord Orville, Avith several ladies and gentlemen, con:iing from the pit passage : unfortunately he saw me too, and, leaving his company, advanced instantly towards 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 has- M 2 1 24. EVELINA. tened 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 ah'eady gone home ! I was inexpressibly distressed ; to suffer Lord Orville to think me satisfied with the single protec- tion 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 exclaim- ing. Good Heaven, what can I do ! Why, my dear Madam, cried Sir Clement, should you be thus unea^ of his company. At the same table with Lord Orville sat a gentle- man, — I call him so only because he ivas at the same table, — who, almost from the moment I was seated, fixed his eyes stedfastly on my face, and never once removed them to any other object during tea-time, notwithstanding my dislike of his siaring must, I am sure, have been very evident. I was quite surprised, that a man, whose boldness was so oflensive, could have gained admission into a party of which Lord Orville made one ; for I naturally concluded him to be some low-bred, uneducated man ; and I N 3 138 EVELINA. thought my idea was indubitably confirmed, when I heard him say to Sir Clement Willoughby, in an au- dible vjhisper, — which is a mode of speech very dis- tressing and disagreeable to by-standers, — For Heaven s sake, Willoughby, who is that lovely creature r But what was my amazement, when listening at- tentively for the answer, though my head was turn- ed another way, I heard Sir Clement say, I am sor- ry I cannot inform your Lordship, but I am ignorant myself. Lordship! — how extraordinary! that a nobleman, accustomed, in all probability, to the first rank of compan}'^ 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 expectations. We both readily agreed that it had greatly ex- ceeded them. Ay, 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 tliey'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 ? Eye ! cried the Lord, (I don't know his name,) and is there any eye here, that can find pleasure 2 EVELINA. 139 in looking at dead walls or statues, when such hea- venly living objects as I now see demand all their -admiration. O, certainlvj said Lord Orville, the lifeless sym- metry of architecture, however beautiful the de- sign 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 re- galed at the same time, and in one view, with all the excellence of art, and all the perfection of na- ture, I cannot think that either suffer by being seen together. 1 grant, my Lord, said Sir Clement, that the cool eye of unimpnssioned philosophy may view both with equal attention, and equal safety ; but where the heart is not so well guarded, it is apt to inter- fere, 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 e3^e here, and your eye there, and, for the matter of that, to be sure you have two, — hut 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 drawsandattracts whatever has soul and sympathy : and I am happy to acknowledge, that though we have now no gods to occupy a mansion professedly built for them, yet we have secured their belter 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 to 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. 140 EVELINA. Half-a-guinea ! exclaimed that same Lord, I would give half I am worth for a sight of only one, pro- vided I make my own choice. And, prithee, how can m )ney 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 Ciement, 1 think he has a fair claim to the forgiveness of all. Then you depend very much, as T doubt not but you n>ay, said Lord Orville, upon ihe general sweet- ness of the sex ; — but, as to the ladies of the Cap- tain'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 diversion can be found in such a place as this here, for one "vHo has iiad, long ago, his full of face- hunting ? E^erv body laughed, but nobody spoke. Why, look you there now, continued the Cap- tain, you're all at a dead stand ! — not a man among you can answer that there question. Wh}'", then, 1 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 manu- factory. 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. U 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 ? EVELINA. 141 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 j^ou're alive, he asked what the play was ! Ha, ha, ha ! Sir, said Mr. Lovel, colouring, it" you were a? much used to a town-life as I am, — which I pre- sume, is not precisely the case, — I fancy you would not tind 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 play-house. Why, a play is the only thing left, now-a-days, that has a grain of sense in it ; for as to all the rest of j'^our publit places, d'ye see, if they were all put tof^^ether, I would n't give that for 'em ! (snapping his fingers.) And now we're talk- ing 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. Lord Orville, who was most able to have an- swered, seemed by no means to think the Captain worthy an argument, upon a subject concerning which he had neither knoAvledge n')r feeling : but, turning to us, he said, The ladies are silent, and we seem to have engrossed the conversation to our- selves, in which we are much more our own enemies than theirs. But, addressing himself to Miss Mir- van and me, I am most desirous to hear the opi- nions 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 any where : but we had better have been silent; for the Captain, quite displeased, said. 142 EVELINA. 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 'era. 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 impertinent 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 sliame they a'n't put down; and if I'd my will, there's not a magistrate in this town but should be knocked on the head for suffering them. If you've a mind to praise any thing, 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 every body else ; till Mr. Lovel, not willing to lose an opportunity of return- ing 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 betw een 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 any where ; and even in regard to us, and the canaille, confined as we all are within the semi-circle of a theatre, there is no place where the distinction is less obvious. 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? EVELINA. 143 Think ! — said he, why I think as how it i'n't worth thinking about. 1 like no s,\ichje}}icracks. 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 ; 1 am sorry it is turned to no better ac- count ; but its purport is so frivolous, so very re- mote 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 play- house, where a man, that's to say a man who is a man, ought not to be ashamf^'. to shew his face. T'other day they got me to a ridutto ; but I believe, it will be long enough before they get me to ano- ther. 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! — Ranelagh dull! — was echjed from mouth to mouth ; and all the ladies, as if of one accord, regarded the Captain with looks of cne 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 some- thing of — ^of — something d'unvrai gout, to be really sensible of its merit. Those whose— whose con- aections, and so forth, are not among Us gens comme 144 EVELINA. ilfaiit, can feci 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 tan, you sha'nH talk so ; T knovv what you are going to say ; but positively^ I wo^n't sit by you, if you're so wicked. And how can one sit by you, and be good r said he, when only to look at you is enough to make one wicked — or wish to be so r Fie, my Lord ! returned she, you are really in- sufferable. 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 con- tented with telling me you will not speak to me fifter 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 yon please. Til promise to agree to your time. You know, dear Madam, said he, sipping his tea, you know I only live in j^our 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, lean- ing fcrward with both his arms on the table, are you going to Ranelagh at this time of night. EVELINA. 145 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 Every body now stood up ; and the stranger Lord coming round to me, s?L\d,you go, I hope ? No, my Lord, I believe not. O you cannot, must not be so barbarous. And he took my hanti, and ran on, saying such fine speeches and compliments, that I might almost have supposed myself a goddess, and him a pagan pay- ing 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 extremely disagreeable to me ; and. the more so, as I saw that 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 ii ivas tearing his heart out to go without me. During this conversation Mr. Lovelcame forward, and assuming a look of surprise, made me a bow, and enquired 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 persua- sions of accompanying them to Ranelagh, was quite VOL. I. o 146 EVELINA. 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. May be so, said the Captain, but Til 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 ms ; 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 Cap- tain, 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, perliaps, 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 ? As to that there, returned the Captain, I don't know whether there be or no, and, to make free, I dori'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 1 was a Frenchman, and I believe; in my heart there i'n't a EVELINA. 147 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 gentleman ot 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 them- selves, 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 goodnight. The ladies, who were very impatient to be gone, made their courtesies, and tripped away, followed by all the gentlemen ot their party, except the lord be- fore mentioned, and Lord Orville, who staid to make inquiries of Mrs. Mirvan concerning oar leav- ing 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 hearmg distinct- ly what Lord Orville said, to my great vexation, especially as he looked — I thought so at least, — as if displeased at his particularity of behaviour to me. In going to an outward room to wait for the car- riage, I walked, and could not possibly avoid it, be- tween this nobleman and Sir Clement Willcughby ; 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 o 2 14S EVELINA. do characters and manners differ ! Lord Oiville, with a politeness which knows no intermission, and makes no distinction, is as unassuming and modest as if he had never mixed with the great, and was totally ignorant of every qualification he possesses ; this other Lord, though lavish of compliments and fme speeches, seems to me an intire stranger to real good-breeding : whoever strikes his fancy, en- grosses his whole attention. He is forward and bold ; has an air of haughtiness towards men, and a look of libertinism towards women ; and his con- scious 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 spirit- ed. The evening's entertainment had displeased the Captain ; and his displeasure, I believe, disconcert- ed 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 1 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 Du- Tal, I must own I expect very little pleasure at Howard Grove. Before Lord Orville went, Sir Clement Willough- by 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 EVELINA. 143 my account. But I wasnot 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 hira 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 invitation before Lord Orrille in which he was not included ! I was so much chagrined, that, as soon as he went, I left the room ; and I shall not go down stairs till Sir Clement is gone. Lord Orville cannot but observe hi:^ assiduous en- deavours to ingratiate himself into my favour ; and does not this extravagant civility of Captain Mirvan give him reason to suppose that it meets with our general approbation ? I cannot think upon this sub- ject without inexpressible uneasiness ; and yet I caa think of nothing else. Adieu, my dearest Sir. Pray write to me immedi- ately. 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 imperfections which I have thus faithfully re- counted, can you, and with unabated kindness, suffer me to sign myself. Your dutiful and most affectionate EVELINA > O 3 150 EVELINA. LETTER XXIV. MR. VILLARS TO EVELINA. Berry Hill, April 21'. How much do I rejoice that I can again address my letters to Howard Grove ! My Evelina would havegrievrd had she known the anxiety of my mind during her residence in the great world. INIy appre- hensions have been inexpressibly alarming ; and your journal, at once exciting and relieving my fear.^, lias almost wholly occupied me since the time, of your dating it from London. Sir Clement Willoughby must be an artful design- ing 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, con- vinces me, that, had not your vehemence frightened him, Queen-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 indis- cretion and want of thought, in so hastily trusting yourself with a man so little known to you, and whose gaiety and flightiness should have put you on your guard. The nobleman j'^ou met at the Pantheon, bold and forward as you describe him to be, gives me no ap- prehension ; a man who appears so openly licen- tious, and who makes his attack with so little regard to decorum, is one who, to a mind such as my Eve- lina'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 EVELINA. 1 5 I of intentional evil. He is far more dangerous, be- cause more ariful : 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 Avhich I fear he has formed. Lord Orville appears to be of a better order of beings. His spirited conduct to the meanly imper- tinent Love), 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 wiih a regard to real honour, that will always incline me to think well of him, in so immediately acquainting the Mirvan fa- mily with your situation. Many men of this age, from a false and pretended delicacy to a friend, would have quietly pursued their own aftairs, and thought it more honourable to leave an unsuspect- ing 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, ahke unfit you for the thorny paths of the great and busj'^ world. The supposed obscurity of your birth and situation, makes you liable to a thousand disagreeable adven- tures. 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 152 EVELINA, 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 tolly, of dupli- city and of impertinence ; and I wish few things more fervently, than that you may have taken a lasting leave ot'it. 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 ihe 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 ex- pectations. Disappoint them not, my beloved child; but cheer me with a few lines, that may as- sure 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 re- mains such as it was, ever unworthy your time and your labour ; but not more so now-— at least I hope not,— than before tliat fortnight which has so much alarmed you. EVELINA J 53 And yet I raust 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 disturb- ed, our schemes are broken, our way of life is al- tered, 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 disagree- able an addition to our household must have caused the same change at our return. I was sure you would be displeased with Sir Cle- ment Willoughby, and therefore I am by no means surprised at what you say of him ; but for Lord Or- ville — I must own 1 had greatly feared that my weak and imperfect account would not have pro- cured him the good opinion which he so well de- serves, and which I am delighted to find you seem to have of him. O, 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, no- thing more passed previous to our journey hither, except a very violent quarrel between Captain Mir- van 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 obey- ed ; but were no sooner seated, than Madame Du- 3 54 EVELINA. val 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 crowd- ing 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 nei- ther understood nor regarded him, and, very rough' ly, 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, FJl 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, bad him draw at his peril. Mrs. Mirvan, greatly alarmed, got out of the coach, and, standing between them, intreated her husband to re-enter the house. None of your clack ! cried he, angrily ; what the D — 1, do you suppose I can't manage a French- man ? Mean time, Madame Duval called out to M. Du Bois, Eh, laissez-le, mon ami, ne le corrigcz pas; c'est un vilain bete qui rCen vaut pas la peine. Monsieur le Capiiaine, cried M. Du Bois, voulez* vous bien me demander pardon ? O ho, you demand pardon, do you ? said the Captain, 1 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. EVELINA. [55 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 aiFront? — I warrant Monseei^ knows what he is about ; — don^t you Monseer ? M. Du Bois, not understanding him, only said, plait-U, Monsieur ? No, nor dish me neither, answered the Captain ; but, be that as it may, what signifies our parleying here ? If you've any thing to propose, speak at once ; if not, why let us go on our journey without more ado. Parhlcu, je n'entends rien, moi .' cried M. Du Bois, shrugging up his shoulders, and looking very dismal. Mrs. Mirvan then advanced to hmi, and said in French, that she was sure the Captain had not any intention to aftront him, and begged he would de- sist from a dispute which could only be productive of mutual misunuerstanding, 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 jour- ney ; but the turbulent Captain would not yet per- mit us. He approached Madame Duval wirh an exulting air, and said. Why, how's this. Madam ? what, has your champion deserted \ ou ? why I thought you told 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 con- sequence what you thought; far a person who can behave in such a low way, may think what he pleases for me, for I shan't mind. Why then. Mistress, since you must needs make 156 EVELINA. so free, cried he, please to tell me the reason why you took the liberty for to ask any of your follow- ers 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 gen- tleman in such an unpolite way, as to take and pull him neck and heels out ? Tm sure he hadn't done nothing to atlVont 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 bur 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 hang'd first. More brute you, then I for they've never carried nobody half so good. Why, look'ee. Madam, if you must needs pro- voke me, I'll tell you a piece of my mind: you must know, I can see as far into a millstone ag another man ; and so, if you thought for to fob me off 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 mounled his horse and we drove off. And I could not but think, with regret, of the I EVELINA. 157 different feelings we experienced upon leaving Lon- don, 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 dis- course. We had a most affectionate reception from Lady Howard, whose kindness and hospitality cannot fail of making every body happy who is disposed so to be. Adieu, my dearest Sir. I hope, though I have hitherto neglected to mention it, that you have al- ways remembered me to whoever has made any in- quiry concerning me. LETTER XXVL EVELINA TO THE REV. MR. VILLARS. Howard Grove, April 27, O MY dear Sir, I now wTite in the greatest uneasi- ness ! 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 after- noon 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, Tve got some very good news to tell you : soraethmg that will surprise you. Til 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 VOL. T. ? 1 58 EVELINA. be ;a fine lady; and that she had long, and upon several occasions, blushed Tor me, though she must own the fault was none of mine: for nothing bet- ter 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, vt^ithout 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 ! It would be impossible for me to express my ex- treme consternation 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 ad- vantages I should reap from her plan ; talked in a high style of my future grandeur; assured me how heartily I should despise almost every body and every thing 1 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 re- ceive their last polish. 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 con- cealment, and every body enquired 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 oi EVELINA. 159 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 How- ard 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 particu- lars 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 rounds 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 Brangh- tons, to interfere thus in my concerns ! You can hard- ly imagine what a disturbance this plan has made in the fami'y. The Captain, without enquiring into any particulars of the affair, has peremptorily declared himself against it, merely because it has been pro- posed by Madame Duval; and they have battled the point together with great violence. Mrs. Mir- van says, she will not even think till she hears your opinion. But Ladv Howard, to my great surprise, p 2 160 EVELINA. 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 1 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 banish- ed for ever; — while, on the other side, I have but too well known and felt the propriety of the separa- tion. And yet, you may much better imagine, than 1 can express, the internal anguish which sometimes oppresses my heart, when I reflect upon the strange indifference that must occasion a father never to make the least enquiry after the health, the welfare, or even the life of his child ! O Sir, to me the loss is nothing ! — greatly, sweet- ly, 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. DEAR SIR, Howard Grove. 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. £VELINA. 161 upon a subject concerning which you have so just a claim to act for your-tlf : but I know you have too unafiected a love ot justice, to be partially tenacious of yf^ur own judgment. IVladame Duval has been proposing a scheme which has put us all in commotion, and against whi( h, at first, in common with the rest of my fami- ly, I exclaimed : but, upon more mature considera- tion, I own my objections have almost wholly va- nished. This scheme is no other than to commence a law- suit with Sir John Belmont, to prove the validity of his marriage with Miss Evelyn; the necessary con- sequence 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 pre- judices, or to opposing any important cause on ac- count 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. Na- ture 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 hi- therto 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 re- p 3 162 EVELINA. spect them, from the high opinion that 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 w^ould have had the most splendid oflers, 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 intitled, and which you have prepared her to support and to use so nobly ? To despise riches may, indeed, be phi- losophic; but to dispense them worthily, must surely, be more beneficial to mankind. Perhaps a few years, or indeed a much shorter time, may make this scheme impracticable : Sir John, tho' yet young, leads a life too dissipated for long dura- tion ; and when too late, we may regret that some- thing was not sooner done ; for it will be next to im- possible, after he is gone, to settle or prove any thing* 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 in- different 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, &c. M. Howard. EVELINA. 163 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 lady- ship ; nor, indeed, can I, but by arguments which I believe will rather rank me as an hermit, ignorant of the world, and fit only for my cell, than as a pro- per guardian, in an age such as this, for an accom- plished young woman. Yet, thus called upon, it be- hoves 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 villainy of Sir John Belmont, — w as 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 ho- nour ! On the fatal day that her gentle soul left its mansion, and not many hours ere she ceased to breathe, 1 solemnly plighted my faith. That her child if it lived, should know no father but myself, or her ac^ knowledged hushand. You cannot. Madam, suppose that I found much difficulty in adhering to this promise, and forbearing to make any claim 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 Ami, who had so basely betrayed the mother, the helpless and innocent offspring, who, born in so much sorrow, seemed intitled to all the compassionate tenderness of pity. For many years, the name alone of that man, acci- 164 EVELINA. dentally spoken in my hearing, almost divested me of my Christianity* and scarce could I forbear to exe- crate him. Yet I sought not, neither did I desire, to deprive him of his child, had he with any ap- pearance of contrition, or, indeed of humanity, en* deavoured to become less unworthy such a blessing: — but he is a stranger to all parental feelings, and has with a savage insensibility, forborne to enquire 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 per- ceive 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 ; disdained lest it should be refused ; and feared, lest it should be accepted ! Lady Belmont, who was firmly persuaded of her approaching 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 de-.nanded, 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 proteci.on. Alas! she had no sooner quitted it herself, than she was plunged into a gulph of mi- sery, that iwallowed up her peace, reputation, and life. During the childhood of Evelina, I suggested a EVELINA. 165 thousand plans for the security of her birth-right ; — but I as oftentimes rejected them. I was in a per- petual conflict, between the desire that she should have justice done her, and the apprehension that, while I improved her fortune, 1 should endanger her mind. However as her character began to be form- ed, and her disposition to be displayed, my per- plexity 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 ingenuous simplicity of her nature; when I saw that her guileless and innocent soul fancied all the world to be pure and disinterest- ed as herself, and that her heart was open to every impression with which love, pity, or art might as- sail 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 in vitably encircling a house of which the master is dissipated and unprincipled, without the guidance of a mother, or any prudent and sensi- ble female, seemed to me no less than suffering her to stumble into some dreadful pit, when the sun is in its meridian. My plan, therefore, was not mere- ly 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 tranquillity, cheerfulness, and good-humour, untainted by vice, folly, or am- bition. 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 result- ed from them. It now remains to speak of the time to come. And here, indeed, I am sensible of difficulties 166 EVELINA. which 1 almost despair of surmounting according to my wishes. I pay the highest deference to your La- dyship's opinion, which 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 oifer such ar- guments as might lead you to think with me, that this young creature's chance of happiness seems less doubtful in retirement, 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 per- suasions can I make use of, with any prospect of success, to such a woman as M.idame Duval ? Her character and the violence of her disposition, in- timidate me from making the attempt : she is too ig- norant for instruction, too obstinate for intreaty, and too weak for reason. I win not, therefore, enter into a contest from which 1 have nothing to expect but altercation and impertinence. As soon rvould 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 tmruly and illiberal passions. Unused as she is to control, persuasion would but harden, and opposi- tion incense her. 1 yield, therefore to the necessity which compels my reuctant 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 EVELINA. 1 67 tiolent, so public, so totally repugnant to all female delicacy? I am satisfied your Ladyship 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 ivrongs not guilt, by which she suffered, I proposed, nay attempted, a similar plan : but thta all assistance and encouragement was denied. How cruel to the remembrance I bear of 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 con- jecture, ami 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. Ma- dam, 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 irre- trievably lost; her life was become a burthen to her; and her fair fame, which she had 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 consola- tion was withheld from her ! Let milder measures be adopted : and — since it must be so — let application be made to Sir Joha Belmont : but as to a law suit, I hope, upon thi? sub-^ ject, never more to hear it mentioned. 16S EVELINA. With Madame Duval, all pleas of delicacy would be ineffectual ; her scheme must be opposed by ar- guments 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 lawsuit be commen- ced, and even should the cause be gained. Sir John Belmont would still have it in his power, and, if ir- ritated, no doubt in his inclination, to cut off her grand-daughter with a shilling. She cannot do better herself than to remain quiet and inactive in the affair : the long and mutual ani- miosity between her and Sir John will make her in- terference 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 post- humous letter, which his much injured lady left to be presented to him, if ever such a meeting shoulcjl 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 in- duce Madame Duval to settle her own upon them- selves. In this, however, they would probably be mistaken j for little minds have ever a propensity to bestow their wealth upon those who are already EVELINA. 169 in affluence ; and, therefore, the less her grand- child requires her assistance, the more gladly she will give it. . 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 in- violably adhered to. J am, dear Madam, with great respect. Your Ladyship's most obedient servant, ARTHUR VILLARS. LETTER XXIX. MR. VILLAUS TO EVELINA. Berry Hill, May 2. IIow sincerely do I sympathize in the uneasines.-* and concern which my beloved Evelina has so much reason to feel ! The cruel scheme in agita- tion is equally repugnant to my judgment and my inclination ; — yet to oppose it seems impracticable. To follow the dictates of my own heart, I should instantly recal you to myself, and never more con- sent to your being separated from me ; but the manners and opinion of the world demand a diffe- rent conduct. Hope, however, for the best, and be satisfiedyou shall meet with no indignity ; if you are not received into your own fam.ily 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. ARTHUR VILLAES. VOL. no EVELINA. LETTER XXX, EVELINA TO THE REV. MR. VILLARS. Howard Grove, May 6, The die is thrown, and I attend the event in trem- bling ! Lady Howard has written to Paris, and sent her letter to town, to be forwarded in the embassa- dor's packet; and, in less than a fortnight, there- fore, she expects an answer. O, Sir, with what anx- ious impatience shall I wait its arrival ! upon it seems to depend the fate of my future life. My so- licitude is so great, and my suspence so painful, that I cannot 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 propo- sed. Methinks it cannot end to my satisfaction : for either I must be torn from the arms of my ?fiore 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 when- ever 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 perpe- tually : one moment, I am embraced by a kind and relenting parent, who takes me to that heart from which 1 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 1 will not afflict you with the melancholy phaQta&m& EVELINA. 171 of my brain ; I will endeavour to compose my «ninresently 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 bad the good luck to see the country in such per- fection. Has not almost every body left town. Sir ? said Miss Mirvan. I am ashamed to answer you. Madam — but in- deed it is as full as ever, and will continue so till after the birth-day. 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 any body remaining there, that we were acquainted with ? cried L O yes, Ma'am. And then he named two or three persons we have seen when with him ; but he did not mention Lord Orville, and I would not ask liim, 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 EVELINA. 175 oil 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 unanswered, merely to give himself that pleasure. We shall have rare sport, said the Captain ; for do you know, the old French-woman is among us ? ''Fore George, I have scarce made any use of her yet, by reason I have had nobody wnth 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, rd 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 contriv- ing some scheme, which, he says, is to play the old Dowager off ; and so eager and delighted is he at the idea, that he can scarcely restrain his raptures suffi- ciently to conceal his design even from herself. I wish, however, since I do not dare put Madame Du- val upon her guard, that he had the delicacy not to acquaint me with his intention. 176 EVELINA. LETTER XXXUI. EVELINA IN CONTINUATION. May 1.3th. The Captain's operations are begun,— and I hope, ended ; for, indeed, poor Madame Duval has alrea- dy but too much reason to regret Sir Clement's visit to Howard Grove. Yesterday morning, during breakfast, as the Cap- tain was reading the newspaper, Sir Clement sud- denly 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 call out for mercy in French ; and that, when he inquired into the occasion of his distress, he was in- formed 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, 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, addiessing himself to the Captain, yet 1 could not help pitying the poor wretch, because he did not know enough of English to make his de- fence ; however, 1 found it impossible to assist him ; EVELINA. 117 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 Captam. Something of that sort, answered he. So much the better! so much the better ! cried the Captain, an impudent French puppy ! FU 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, answered Sir Cle- ment, 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 Cap- tain, that's Monseer Slipptry, i'n'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 overjoyed, for I dare say 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. 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 Avith poor MoU' seer ? nS EVELIXA. It is difficult to say, answered Sir Clement, very thoughtfully ; 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 agi- tation ; she started from her chair, repeating, with a voice half-choaked. 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 up stairs into her own apartment. Lady Howard blamed both the gentle- men 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 hazard- ous expedition, having undertaken to convoy a crazy vessel to the shore of Mortification ; so, d'ye see, if any of you have any thing to propose that will forward the enterprise, — why speak and wel- come ; 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 inter- EVELINA. 179 larded with many expressions, and sea-phrases^ that I cannot recollect, he gave Sir Clement a wink of intelligence, and left us to ourselves. Indeed, notwithstanding the attempts I so fre- quently make of writing some of the Captain's con- versation, 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 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 pro- bable 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 in- flam.^d by these disappointments, that she threaten- ed to set out for town on foot; and it was with diffi- culty that Lady Howard dissuaded her from this mad scheme. The whole morning was filled up with these in- quiries. But when we were all assembled to din- ner, she endeavoured to appear perfectly uncon- cerned, 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, af- fected to be of her opinion ; but, at the same time that he pretended to relieve her uneasiness, by say- ing that he doubted not having mistaken the name» he took care to enlarge upon the danger to which the tmkHOv;n gentletnan was exposed, and expresseci great concern at his perilous situation. 180 EVELINA. Dinner was hardly removed, when a letter vras 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. 3Ion Dieu ! quel avanturc ! queferui-je ? What's the matter? what's the matter.? said the Captain. Why nothing — nothing's the matter. mon Dieu ! And she rose, and walked about the room. Why, what, — has Monseer sent to you ? con- tinued 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 s/zi^/e or double? 'Fore George, 'twas plaguy unlucky you was not with him 1 It's^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 inter- fered, and begged to know the cause of her uneasi- ness, 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, turn- ing to me, do you and Molly go into another room. EVELINA. ISl and stay there till Mrs. 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 should know about it ; for if he does, I sha'n't never hear the last of it; — no more won't poor M. Da Bois. 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 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 commit'.ed to jail ; but having declared that he was known to her, this clerk had been prevailed upon to write, in order to en- quire if she really could speak to the character and yoL. T. R 182 EVELINA. family of a Frenchman who called himself Pierre Dii Bois. When I heard the letter, I was quite amazed at its success. So improbable did it seem, that a fo- reigner should be taken before a country justice of peace, for a crime of so dangerous a nature, that 1 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 con- firm 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 ac- quainted with his schemes ; by which means she at once avoids quarrels, and supports her dignity. While she was considering what to propose, Ma- dame Duval begged to have the use of her Lady- ship's chariot, that she might go immediately to the assistance of her friend. Lady Howard politely as- sured her, that it should be extremely at her ser- vice ; 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. Ladv EVELINA. 183 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 that she was going upon a fruitless errand. 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 con- ference. In an instant we were joined by Sir Cle- ment. A thousand inquiries were then made con- cerning 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 de- tained me, to ask some frivolous question, to the answer of which he must be totally indifferent. At length, however, I broke from them ; thej^ retired into the parlour, and I executed my commission. The carriage was soon ready ; and Madame Du- val, having begged Lady Howard to say she was not well, stole softly down stairs, 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 TyrelTs, 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 R 2 1S4. EVELINA. knew him to be so much M. Du Bois^s enemy, tliat 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 ri- diculous an affair, and could only think of the ab- surd appearance we should make upon our arrival • at Mr. Tyrell's. When we had been out near two hours, and ex- pected every moment to stop at the place of our destination, I observed that Lady Howard's servant, who attended us on horseback, rode on I'orvvard 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. While she was reading it, he rode round to the other window, and, making a sign for secresy, 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 ine to expect some disagreeable adventure : but I had no time to ponder upon it ; for Madame Duval had 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. TyrelPs, as the prisoner had had the address to es- cape, I congratulated her upon this for.tunate inci- dent; 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. - ' e-vt:lina. i§5 The carriage turned about ; and we journeyed so quietly tor near an hour, that I began to flatter my- self we should be suffered to proceed to Howard Grove without further molestation, when suddenly, the footman called out, John, are we going right ? Why, I a'n't sure, said the coachman, but Tni afraid we turned wrong. What do you mean by that, sirrah ? said Ma- dame 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 enquiry, said I. Mafoi, cried Madame Duval, we^-e in a fine hole here ! — they neither of them know no more than the post. However, 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 Canter- bury ; we had best go straight on. Why, that's the direct London road, returned the footman, and will lead us twenty miles about. Pardi, 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'tget home to-night ! Let's go back to the public-house, said the foot- man, and ask for a guide. No, 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, T 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 1 Ten to one but they'll ©verturn us next 1 R 3 186 EVELINA. After much debating, they at length agreed to g« on till we came to some inn, or met with a passenger who could direct us. We soon arrived at a farm- house, and the footman alighted, and went into it. in a few luinutes he returned, and told us we might proceed, for that he had procured a direction : But, added he, it seems there are some thieves here- abouts ; ana so the best way will be for you to leave your watches and purses with the farmer, whom I know very well, and who is an honest man, and fi tenant of my Lady's. Thieves ! cried Mada\ne Duval, looking aghast : the Lord help us ! I've no doubt but we shall be all murdered I The farmer came up to us, and we gave him all we w^ere w;»nh, and ihe servants followed our example. We tiien proceeded ; and Madame Duval's anger so entirelv subsideil, that, in the mildest manner im- agiudbie, she intreated th«'m to make haste, and pro- mised to tell their Lady how diligent and oliliging they had been. IShe perpetually stopped them, to ask if they apprehended any danger ; and was at length so much overpowered by her fears, that she made the fooiman fasten his horse to the back of the carriage, and then come and seat himself within it. My ende iV0u:s to encourage htr were fruitless ; she sat in tlie 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 for- bore 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 foot- man, he was evidently in torture from restraining his laighler ; and I observed that he was frequently obliged to make most horrid grimaces, from pre- tended fear, in or'^er to conceal his risibility. EVELINA. 187 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 nothmec 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 sunk to the bottom of the chariot, and implored their mercy, 1 shrieked involuntarily, although prepared for the attack : one of them held me fast, while the other tore poor Ma- dame Duval out of the carriage, in spite ©f her cries, threats, and resistance. I was really frightened, and trembled exceeding- ly. My angel ! cried the man who held me, you catinot 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 himself next to me. I would fain have dis- engaged 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. I S3 EVELINA. —how rniich I dread your displeasure, — and how cruelly I am affected by your coldness ! G, Sir, this is no time lor 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 1 speak to you, if not now ? — Does the Captain suffer me to breathe a moment out of his sight r and are not a thousand impertinent people for ever at your elbow ? Indeed, Sir Clement, you must change your vstyle, or I will not hear you. The imperdntnt 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, INIiss Anville, point but out to me how, in what manner, 1 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 oppos- ed it : though, 1 own, I could not refuse myself the so long-wished-for happiness 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 4- EVELINA. 18y Duval, at least suffer we 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 Aiiville, how cruel, how pierc- ing to ray soul is that icy word ! — Indeed I cannot «ndure 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 aveise 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 stifled with laughter, said, Fve done for her ! — the old buck is safe : — but we must sheer off directly, or we shall be all agrouiid. Sir Clement instantly left me, mounted his horse, and rode off. The Captain having given some di- rections 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 shew me which way she was gone; he pointed with his finger by way of answer, and I saw that he dar- ed not trust his voice to make any other. I walk- ed on a very quick pace, and soon, to my great con- sternation, perceived the poor Lady seattd upright in a ditch. I flew to her with unfeigned concern at her situation. She was sobbing, nay, almost roar- ing, and in the utmost agony of rage and terror. As soon as she saw me, she redoubled l.er cries ; but her voice was so br. ken, I could not understand a word she said. I was so much shocked, that it was 190 EVELINA. 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 pas- sively sufl'ered the deception. I used my utmost endeavours to comfort her, assuring her oi' our pre- sent safety, and begging her to rise and return to the chariot. Ahnost bursting with passion, she pointed to her feet, and with frightful violence she actually tore the ground with her hands. 1 then saw that her feet were tied together with a strong rope, which was fastened to the upper branch ofa 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 DuvaPs 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 re- proaches, which, though almost unintelligible, con- vinced me that she imagined I had voluntarily de- serted her; but she seemed not to have the slightest suspicion that she had not been attacked by real robbers. I was so much surprised and confounded at the blow, that, for some time, I suffired her to rave with- out making any answer ; but her extreme agitation, and real suffering, soon dispelled my anger, which all turned into compassion. 1 then told her, that I had been fo/-cibly detained from following her, and assured her of my real sorrow at her ill usage. She began to be somewhat appeased ; and I agiiu EVELINA. 191 intreated her 1o 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 una- voidable. The ditch, happily, was almost quite dry, or she must have suffered still more seriously ; yet so for- lorn, 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 perpetu- ally slipping off. She was covered w^ith dirt, weeds, and filth, and her face w as 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 rouire, 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 remonstran- ces 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 rowed they would shoot him if he moved an inch, and that one of them had staid to watch the chariot, while the other carried her ofl) adding, that the reason of their behaving so barbarously, was to revenge our having secured our purses. Notwithstanding her anger, she gave immediate credit to what he said ; 192 EVELINA. and really imagined that her want of money had irritated the pretended robbers to treat her with such cruelty. I determined; therefore, to be care- fully upon my guard not to betray the imposition, which could now answer no other purpose, than occasioning an irreparable breach between her and the Captain. Just as we were seated in the chariot, she disco- vered the loss which her head had sustained, and called out. My God ! what is become of my hair ? — wliy, 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 served so yourself, and you w^ouldn'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 cere- mony 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 liere, 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 : — on'y look at me, — I was never so bad off in my life before. Purdi, if I'd knovv'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. EVELINA. 193 Finding her now somewhat pacified, I ventured to ask an account of her adventure, which I will en- deavour 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 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 iPd 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 good thing. So soon as we'd got out of sight of the chariot, though he needn't have been afraid, for if he'd b«»at 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 dare say 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 mur- dered me, as much as ever I thought any thing in my life; for he kept bumping me about, as if he thought nothing too bad for me. However, I'm re- solved I'll never leave my purse behind me again^ VOL. I, s 194 EVELINA. 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 shouIdn^t swear to his voice; however, that sha'n't save him, for Fli swear to him any day in the year, if I can but catch him. So when I told him 1 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 any thing 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 oft' my cap, and, without saying nothing, got on his horse and left me in that condition ; thinking, I sup- pose, 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, — spoTt, he calls it, — to such barbarous and unjustifiable extremes. I consoled and soothed her, as well as I was able ; and told her, that since M. Du Eois 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 EVELINA. U!5 go out, because I've got no curls, and so he'll be es- caped 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 dare say I could have pinned them up well enough for tlie country. Perhaps Lady Howard may be able to lend you a xrap that will wear without them. Lady Howard, indeed ! why, do j'-qu think I'd wear one of her dowdies? Nc, I'll promise you, I sba'ii't put on no such disguisement. It's the un- Juckiest thing in the world that I did not make the man pick up ihe curls again ; but he put me in such a pasi,ion, i could not think of nothing. I know I can't get none at Howard Grove for love nor mo- ney ; for of all the stupid places ever I see, that Howard Grove is the worst; there's never no get- ting nothing one wants. This sort of conversation lasted till we arrived at our journey's end ; and then a new distress occur- red : Madame Duval was eager to speak to Lady Howard and Mrs. Mirvan, and to relaie her misfor- tunes ; 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 up stairs 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-berl, 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 Mir- 196 EVELINA. van and I retired to our own room^ where I was very glad to end the troubles of the day in a com- fortable conversation. The Captain's raptures, during supper, at the suc- cess of his planj were boundless. I spoke after- wards 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 elatec', 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, my dear Sir. What a long letter have I wriiten! I could almost fancy I sent it you from London I LETTER XXXIV. EVELINA IN CONTINUATION. Howard Grove, May 15. This insatiable Captain, if left to himself, would nor, 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 me- thods as may do it most effectually. She had her breakfast again in bed yesterday morning; bur during ours, the Captain, with a very significant look at Sir Clement, gave us to under- EV^ELINA. 197 gtaad, that he thought she haJ now rested long enough to bear the hardships of a fresh campaign. His meaning was obvious; and therefore, I re- solved to endeavour immediately to put a stop to his intended exploits. When breakfast was over, I followed Mrs. Mirvan out of the parlour, and beg- ged her to lose no time in pleading the cause of Madame Duval with the Captain. My love, an- swered she, I have already expostulated with him; but all I can saj^ is fruitless, while his favourite. Sir Clement, contrives to urge him on. Then I will go and speak to Sir Clement, said I, for I know he will desist if I request him. 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 hini. I thanked her, and we went to seek him. He was walking in the garden with Sir Clement. Mrs. 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 stam- mered very much, when 1 told him, 1 hoped he had no new plan for alarming Madame Duval. New plan I 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. s 3 198 EVELINA. 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 at- tempt 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 apo- logies for her husband's ill-manners. When I left her, 1 went to Madame Duval, who was just risen, and employed in examining the clothes she had on the day of her ill usage. Kerens a sight ! cried she. Come here child, — only look — Pardi, 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'm sure I was a fool to put it on in such a lonesome place as this ; however, if I stay here these 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! 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 becomingest 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 EVELINA. ID 9 sieen 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 over her head as a hood, and saying she had the tooth-ach. 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 dis- tress; and, I declare, I'd rather be done any thing to than laughed at, for, to my mind, it's one or other the disagreeablest 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 per- sons, or obtain any redress. Madame Duval, in telling me this, extremely la- mented her hard fate, that she was thus prevented from revenging her injuries; which, however, she vowed she would not be 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 200 EVELINA. nothing at all of tying people ir) ditches, and such things as that: however, I shall consalt with M. Du Bois, as soon as I can ferret out where he's hid him- self. Fm sure I've a right to his advice, for it's all along of his gaping about at the Tower that I've Knet with these misfortunes. M. Du Bois, said I, will, I am sure, be very sorry when he he,irs what has happened. And what good will that do now r — that won't unspoil all my clothes; I can tell him, I a'n'tmuch obliged to him, though it's no fault of his; — yet it i'n't the less provokinger for that. I'm sure, if be 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 Home. 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 dis- cover him. Pardi, if I do, I'll hang him, as sure as fate Irr? but what's the oddest, is, that he should take such a special spite against we 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 m9,nner : 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 ad- just her head-dress, but could not at all please her- self. 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. EVELINA. 201 When I left her, in my way down stairs I met Sir Clement; who, with great earnestness, said he must not be denied the honour of a moment's con- versation 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 Anville, I flatter myself I have hit upon an 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 un- willing 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 impene- trable : — 1 have therefore determined to make a pre- tence 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 1 then. Miss Anville, mu;»t I tjuit 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 understanding, rise upon me daily ! and must Jj can I part with you r — will no other method 202 EVELINA. O, Sir, do you so soon repent the goad pOiice you liad planned for Madame Duval ? For Madame Duval! — cruel creature, and will you not even sufter me to place to your account the sacrifice I am about to make f You must place it. Sir, to what account yoij please ; but I am too much in haste now to stay here any longer. And then I w^ould have left him ; but he held me, and rather impatiently said, If, then, I cannot be so happy as to oblige you Miss Anviile, 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 siknt; I was really unwilling he should give up a plan which would so efiectually break into the Captain's de-^ signs, and, at the same time, save me the pain of disobliging him ; and I should instantly and thank- fully have accepted his oii'ered civility, had no^ Mfs. Mirv^n'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 courtesy, I hope. Sir, you are satisfied. Loveliest of thy sex — he began; but I forced myself from him, and ran up stairs. Soon after Miss Mirvan told me that Sir Clement had just received a letter, which obliged him in- stantly to leave the Grove, and that he had actually ordered a chaise. I then acquainted her with the real state of the alfair. Indeed, I conceal nothing from her; she is so gentle and sweet-tempered, that EVELINA. 203 it gives me great pleasure to place an entire confi- dence in her. At dinner, I roust own, we all missed him; for though the flightiness of his behaviour to me, w^hen we are by ourselves, is very distressing;' yet, in large companies, and general conversation, he is ex- tremely entertaining and agreeable. As to the Cap- tain, he has been so much chagrined at his departure, that he has scarce spoken a word since he w-ent, but Madame Duval, who made her first public appear- ance 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 ! Yet he must certainly be discovered ; for Madame Duval is al- ready very much perplexed, at having received a let- ter 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 in- tercepted. Kot one opportunity could I meet with, while Sir Clement w^as here, to enquire after his friend Lord Orville: but I think it was strange he should never mention him unasked. Indeed, I rather won- der that Mrs. Mirvan herself did not introduce the subject, for she always seemed particularly at- tentive to him. And now, once more, all my thoughts involim- tarily turn upon the letter I so soon expect from Paris. This visit of Sir Clement has, however, somewhat diverted my fears ; and, therefore I am ' tery glad he made it at this time. Adieii, my dear Sir, 20 1 KVELIXA. LETTER XXXV. SIR JOHN BELMONT TO LADY HOWARD. MADAM, Paris, May 11. I HAVE this moment the honour of your Lad yship*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 wnthout blemish; or that another, though reviled as a devil, is really without huma- nity. 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 oblig- ingly 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 oi 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 XXXVL fiVELINA 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 EVELINA. 20.5 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. Outcast as I am, and rejected for ever by him to whom I of right belong— shall I now implore ^'oz^r continued protection; — No, no; — I wili not oftend your generous heart, which, open to distress, has no wisli but to relieve it, with an application 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 my- self, acknowledge all that 1 think : for indeed, I have sometimes sentiments upon this rejection, which my strongest sense of duty can scarcely cor- rect. 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 thiuking of myself, I forget how much more he is the object of sorrow than I am ! Alas, wtiat amends can he make himself for the anguish he is hoarding up for time to come ! My heart bleeds for him, whenever this reflection oc- curs to me. What is said of you, my protector, my friend, my benefactor! I dare not trust myself to comment up- on. Gracious Heaven! what a return for goodness so unparalleled ! VOL. I. T 206 EVELINA. 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 conclude 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 an- swered ; 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 reso- lution, and besought her to forbear an attack where she has nothing to expect but resentment : especi- ally as there seems to be a hint, 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,/ace 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 kind- ness she sympathizes in my sorrow. I very much rejoice, however, that Sir Clement Willoughby had left 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 buritd in oblivion. EVELINA. 207 Lady Howard thinks I ought not to disoblige Ma- dame f)uval, yet she acknowledges the impropriety of iny accompanying her abroad upon such an enter- prise. Indeed, I would rather die than force myself into his presence. But so vehement is Madame Du- val, 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 liouse, till she gave me up to you, by whose per- mission I had entered it. She was extremely angry at this denial ; and the Captain, by his sneers and raillery, so much increas- ed 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 knoio vj/io 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! Adieu, my dearest Sir! Heaven, I trust, will never let me live to be repulsed, and derided by you, to whom I may now sign myself, wholly your EVELINA. LETTER XXXVU. MR. VILLABS TO EVELINA. Berry Hill, May 2L Let not my Evelina be depressed by a stroke of fortune for which she is not responsible. No breach T 2 208 tVELINA. 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 re- proach. Let me intreat you, tlierefore, 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 unintelligible to me : my heart, I dare own, fully acquits me of vice ; but ivithout blemish I have never ventured to pronounce myself. However, it seems his intention to be hereafter more explicit; and then, — should any thing appear that has on my part contributed to those misfortunes we lament, let me at least say, that the most partial of my friends can- not 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 com- pels from rae reflections that cannot but be wound- ing to a heart so formed for filial tenderness as mv 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 reasonably expec ted from a woman so little in- ured to disappointment, and so totally incapable of considering the delicacy of your situation. Your averseness to her plan gives me pleasure, for it ex- actly 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 encoun- ter. And then, once more, might my child and myself be left to the quiet enjoyment of that peace- EVELINA. 209 ful 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 circumspect; 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 pri- vate, 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 re- main at the Grove, Lady Howard must pardon me if I shorten yours. Adieu, my child. You will always make my re- spects to the hospitable family to which we are so much obliged. LETTER XXXVIIL MR. VILLARS TO LADY HOWARD. . DEAR MADAM, Berry Hill, May 27. 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. 1 would gladly have T 3 210 EVELINA. 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 con- sequence of a letter I had sent to her grand-daugh- ter, in which I had forbid her going to Paris. Very roughly she then called me to account for the authority which I had assumed ; and, had I been disposed to have argued with her, she would very angrily 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 relin- quish the power I had usurped over her grand- daughter ; 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 less impeded. When she found me inexorable in refusing Eve- lina's attending her to Paris, she peremptorily in- sisted that she should at least live with her in Lon- don 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 pa- tience, and I my time. She declared, that if 1 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 grand-daughter for her sole heiress. EVELINA. 211 To me, I own, this threat seemed of little conse- quence; 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 mil- lions; but the incertitude of her future fale deters me from following implicitly the dictates of my pre- sent judgment. The connections slie 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, IVfadam, 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 like- ly to keep, are objections so forcible to her having the charge of this dear child, that nothing less than 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 Lady- ship 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 this promise which she has extorted from me. I am, Dear Madam, &c. ARTHUR VILLARS. 212 EVELINA. LETTER XXXIX. MR. VILLARS TO EVELINA. Berry Hill, May 28. With a reluctance which occasions me iuexpres- pible vineasiness, I have been almost compelled to consent that my Evelina should quit the protection (if 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 condenm 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 any thing 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 im- proper, exert yourself resolutely in avoiding thera ; and do not, by a too passive facility, risk the cen- sure of the world, or your own future regret. You cannot too assiduously attend to Madame puval 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, njy dear Evelina, no- , thing is so delicate as the reputation of a woman ; it is at once the most beautiful and most brittle of all human things. EVELINA. 21 S • 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. VILLARS. liOndon, June 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. Mir- van took leave of me with the most flattering kind- ness, 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 free- dom 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 mo- ment ; and, taking me aside, just before we got into the chaise, he said, Hark'ee, Miss Anvilie, Tve 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 informer, or make me a party in his frolic. As soon as we drove away, Madame Duval, with much satisfaction, exclaimed, Dku inerci, we've got off at last ! Vui sure I never desire to see that 214 EVELINA. place again. It's a wonder I've got awa}- aliTc ; for I believe I've had the worst lack ever waa known from the time I set my foot upon the thresh- hold. I know I wish I'd never a gone. Besides, into the bargain, it's the most dullest place in all Christendom : there's never no diversions, nor no- thing at all. Then she bewailed M. Du Bois; concerning \Ahose adventures 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 lodg- ing. Accordingly, we proceeded to a house in Bishopsgate-street, and were led by a waiter into a room where we fomid 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. 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 ol' the world, and im- prove 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 sur- prised 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 agreeably in the country. O Lord, Cousin, cried she, I've been the miserablest creature in the world !, I'm sure all the EVELINA. 215 horses in London sha'n't drag me into the country again .of one while : why, how do you think Tve been served ? only guess. Indeed, Cousin, I can^'t pretend to do that. Why, then Til tell you. Do you know Fve 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 are a-saying; you're talking in the unthinkingest manner in the world : why, it was all along of not having no mo- ney 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 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 manner, and put me in a ditch, and got a rope o' purpose to hang me;— and I'm sure, if that w'asn'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 be- come 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 216 EVELINA. you, I think he might have corned for me, as well a* 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, Fm 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 him- self 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 every thing in the world, and was used worser than a dog, and ail 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 dur- ing 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 was too vehement to attend to my embarrassment, wi)ich must otherwise have betrayed my knowledge of the deceit. Revenge 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. EVELINA. 217 I belieye we were an hour at Bishopsgate-street before poor Madame Duval could allow any thing 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 be- fore 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.' Tb.ey had waited some time for Madame Duval, but 1 found they had not any expectation that I should accompany her ; and the young ladies, I believe, were rather more surpris- ed 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, Ah, mon Dieu ! exclaimed he, voild Mademoiselle / Goodness, cried young Branghton, if there isn't Miss ! Lord so there is, said Miss Polly ; well, Vm 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 rjuite ashamed about it ; — only not think- ing of seeing any body 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 youw^ould not let me. Lord, what signifies ? said the brother j I dare be VOL. I. u 218 EVELINA. sworn Miss hasbeen up two paic of stairs before now ; — ha'n't you. Miss ? I begged that I might not give then* the least dis- turbance ; and assured them that I had not any choice in regard to what room we sat in. 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 nice- ly furnished, and every thing. To say the truth, said Miss Branghton, I thought that my cousin would not, upon any account, have come to town in the summer-time ; 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, ^^ as just entering upon the story of her misfortunes, now wholly engaged the company. M. Du Bois listened to her with a look of the ut- most horror, repeatedly lifting up his eyes and hands, and exclaiming, del ! quel barbare ? Th« 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 con- strain himself, burst into a loud laugh, declaring that he had never heard any thing 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 amaze- ment, was absolutely overpowered and stopped by the violence of their mirth. For some minutes the room seemed quite in an EVELINA. SIS' uproar ; the rage of Madame Duval, the astonish- ment of M. Du Bois, and the angry interrogatories of Mr. Branghtcn, on one side; the convulsive titter- ing 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 musthave concluded himself in Bed- lam. At length, however, the father brought them to order ; and, half-laughing, half-irightened, 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 slulTing handkerchiefs into their mouths, the young people heard with tolerable decency. Every body agreed, that the ill usage the Captain had given 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, Dieu merci, I ha'n't no want of it, yet I don't wish for nothing so much as to punish that fellow ; for, Fm 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 oppor- tunity 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 haberdasher : with many other particulars of his circumstances and family ^ u 2 220 EVELINA. and then she declared her utter aversion to tlie thoughts of such a match ; but added, that her sis- ter 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 wel- come ; for, I'm sure, I don't care a pin's point whe- ther 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, Vv'ith much tittering, that her sister was in a great fright lest she should be married first. vSo I make her believe that I will, continued she ; for I love dearly to plngue her a little ; though, I declare, I don't intend to have IMr. 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 3/0^, Miss r I am no judge, — but I think his person is very — very well. Very well ! Why, pray Miss, in a tone of vexa- tion, 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 T 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 EVELmA. 221 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, thta 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 unarai- able sisters ; and a confidence so entirely unsolicit- ed 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 neigh- bourly. He accompanied us lo 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 unenvia- ble ; and I would not, for the world, be seen by any acquaintance of Mrs. Mirvan. This morning Madame Duval, attended by all the Branghtons, actually went to a Justice in the neigh- bourhood, to report the Captain's ill usage ol her. I had great difficulty in excusing myself from be- mg 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 appli- cation, for I dread to think of the uneasiness which such an affair would occasion the amiable Mrs. Mir- van. But, fortunately, Madame Duval has re- u 3 222 EVELINA. ceived verj'^ little encouragement to proceed in her design; for she bris been informed, that, as she nei- ther heard the voice, nor saw the face of the per- son suspected, she will find difficulty to cast him upon conjecture, and will have but little probability of gaining her cause, unless she can procure wit- nesses of the transaction. Mr. Branghton, there- fore, 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 ad- vised against it. Madame Duval, though very un- willingly, has acquiesced in his decision ; but vows, that it ever she is so afrlxnted again, she will be re- venged, even if she ruins herself. I am extremely glad that this ridiculous adventure seems now likely to en