upon him, for his gratitude.
Lay this one more. You own you have had a misunderstanding this morning: Sir Harry is withdrawn, I suppose, with his heart full: let me, I beseech you, make up the misunderstanding. I have been happy in this way—Thus we will order it—We will desire him to walk in. I will beg your interest with him in favour of the contents of the letter I sent. His compliance will follow as an act of obligingness to you. The grace of the action will be yours. I will be answerable for Mr. Beauchamp's gratitude.—Dear madam, hesitate not. The young gentleman must come over one day: let the favour of its being an early one, be owing entirely to you.
You are a strange man, sir: I don't like you at all: you would persuade me out of my reason.
Let us, madam, as Mr. Beauchamp and I are already the dearest of friends, begin a family understanding. Let St. James's-square, and Berkley-square, when you come to town, be a next-door neighbourhood.
Give me the consideration of being the bondsman for the duty of Mr. Beauchamp to you, as well as to his father.
She was silent: but looked vexed and irresolute.
My sisters, madam, are amiable women. You will be pleased with them. Lord L– is a man worthy of Sir Harry's acquaintance. We shall want nothing, if you would think so, but Mr. Beauchamp's presence among us.
What! I suppose you design your maiden sister for the young fellow—But if you do, sir, you must ask me for—There she stopt.
Indeed I do not. He is not at present disposed to marry. He never will without his father's approbation, and let me say—yours. My sister is addressed to by Lord G–, and I hope will soon be married to him.
And do you say so, Sir Charles Grandison?—Why then you are a more disinterested man, than I thought you in this application to Sir Harry.
I had no doubt but the young fellow was to be brought over to marry Miss Grandison; and that he was to be made worthy of her at my expense.
She enjoyed, as it seemed, by her manner of pronouncing the words young fellow, that designed contempt, which was a tacit confession of the consequence he once was of to her.
I do assure you, madam, that I know not his heart, if he has at present any thoughts of marriage.
She seemed pleased at this assurance.
I repeated my wishes, that she would take to herself the merit of allowing Mr. Beauchamp to return to his native country: and that she would let me see her hand in Sir Harry's, before I left them.
And pray, sir, as to his place of residence, were he to come: do you think he should live under the same roof with me?
You shall govern that point, madam, as you approve or disapprove of his behaviour to you.
His behaviour to me, sir!—One house cannot, shall not, hold him and me.
I think, madam, that you should direct in this article. I hope, after a little while, so to order my affairs, as constantly to reside in England. I should think myself very happy if I could prevail upon Mr. Beauchamp to live with me.
But I must see him, I suppose?
Not, madam, unless you shall think it right, for the sake of the world's opinion, that you should.
I can't consent—
You can, madam! You do!—I cannot allow Lady Beauchamp to be one of those women, who having insisted upon a wrong point, can be convinced, yet not know how to recede with a grace.—Be so kind to yourself, as to let Sir Harry know, that you think it right for Mr. Beauchamp to return; but that it must be upon your own conditions: then, madam, make those conditions generous ones; and how will Sir Harry adore you! How will Mr. Beauchamp revere you! How shall I esteem you!
What a strange impertinent have I before me!
I love to be called names by a lady. If undeservedly, she lays herself by them under obligation to me, which she cannot be generous if she resolves not to repay. Shall I endeavour to find out Sir Harry? Or will you, madam?
Was you ever, Sir Charles Grandison, denied by any woman to whom you sued for favour?
I think, madam, I hardly ever was: but it was because I never sued for a favour, that it was not for a lady's honour to grant. This is the case now; and this makes me determine, that I will not be denied the grant of my present request. Come, come, madam! How can a woman of your ladyship's good sense (taking her hand, and leading her to the door) seem to want to be persuaded to do a thing she knows in her heart to be right! Let us find Sir Harry.
Strange man!—Unhand me—He has used me unkindly—
Overcome him then by your generosity. But, dear Lady Beauchamp, taking both her hands, and smiling confidently in her face, [I could, my dear Dr. Bartlett, do so to Lady Beauchamp,] will you make me believe, that a woman of your spirit (you have a charming spirit, Lady Beauchamp) did not give Sir Harry as much reason to complain, as he gave you?—I am sure by his disturbed countenance—
Now, Sir Charles Grandison, you are downright affronting. Unhand me!
This misunderstanding is owing to my officious letter. I should have waited on you in person. I should from the first have put it in your power, to do a graceful and obliging thing. I ask your pardon. I am not used to make differences between man and wife.
I touched first one hand, then the other, of the perverse baby with my lips—Now am I forgiven: now is my friend Beauchamp permitted to return to his native country: now are Sir Harry and his Lady reconciled—Come, come, madam, it must be so—What foolish things are the quarrels of married people!—They must come to an agreement again; and the sooner the better; before hard blows are struck, that will leave marks—Let us, dear madam, find out Sir Harry—
And then, with an air of vivacity, that women, whether in courtship or out of it, dislike not, I was leading her once more to the door, and, as I intended, to Sir Harry, wherever he could be found.
Hold, hold, sir! resisting; but with features far more placid than she had suffered to be before visible—If I must be compelled—You are a strange man, Sir Charles Grandison—If I must be compelled to see Sir Harry—But you are a strange man—And she rang the bell.
Lady Beauchamp, Dr. Bartlett, is one of those who would be more ready to forgive an innocent freedom, than to be gratified by a profound respect; otherwise I had not treated her with so little ceremony. Such women are formidable only to those who are afraid of their anger, or who make it a serious thing.
But when the servant appeared, she not knowing how to condescend, I said, Go to your master, sir, and tell him that your lady requests the favour—
Requests the favour! repeated she; but in a low voice: which was no bad sign.
The servant went with a message worded with more civility than perhaps he was used to carry to his master from his lady.
Now, dear Lady Beauchamp, for your own sake; for Sir Harry's sake; make happy; and be happy. Are there not, dear madam, unhappinesses enow in life, that we must wilfully add to them?
Sir Harry came in sight. He stalked towards us with a parade like that of a young officer wanting to look martial at the head of his company.
Could I have seen him before he entered, my work would have been easier.
But his hostile air
