you would allow me to prove it!”
“I must run up stairs,” cried I, greatly confused, “and ask what she has done with them.”
“You are going, then,” cried he, taking my hand, “and you give me not the smallest hope of your return! — will you not, then, my too lovely friend! — will you not, at least, teach me, with fortitude like your own, to support your absence?”
“My Lord,” cried I, endeavouring to disengage my hand, “pray let me go!”
“I will,” cried he, to my inexpressible confusion, dropping on one knee, “if you wish to leave me!”
“O, my Lord,” exclaimed I, “rise, I beseech you, rise! — such a posture to me! — surely your Lordship is not so cruel as to mock me!”
“Mock you!” repeated he earnestly, “no I revere you! I esteem and I admire you above all human beings! you are the friend to whom my soul is attached as to its better half! you are the most amiable, the most perfect of women! and you are dearer to me than language has the power of telling.”
I attempt not to describe my sensations at that moment; I scarce breathed; I doubted if I existed — the blood forsook my cheeks, and my feet refused to sustain me: Lord Orville, hastily rising, supported me to a chair, upon which I sunk, almost lifeless.
For a few minutes, we neither of us spoke; and then, seeing me recover, Lord Orville, though in terms hardly articulate, intreated my pardon for his abruptness. The moment my strength returned, I attempted to rise, but he would not permit me.
I cannot write the scene that followed, though every word is engraven on my heart; but his protestations, his expressions, were too flattering for repetition: nor would he, in spite of my repeated efforts to leave him, suffer me to escape:— in short, my dear Sir, I was not proof against his solicitations — and he drew from me the most sacred secret of my heart!
I know not how long we were together; but Lord Orville was upon his knees, when the door was opened by Mrs. Selwyn! — To tell you, Sir, the shame with which I overwhelmed, would be impossible; — I snatched my hand from Lord Orville — he, too, started and rose, and Mrs. Selwyn, for some instants, stood facing us both in silence.
At last, “My Lord” said she, sarcastically, “have you been so good as to help Miss Anville to look for my books?”
“Yes, Madam,” answered he, attempting to rally, “and I hope we shall soon be able to find them.”
“Your Lordship is extremely kind,” said she, drily, “but I can by no means consent to take up any more of your time.” Then looking on the window-seat, she presently found the books, and added, “Come, here are just three, and so like the servants in the Drummer, this important affair may give employment to us all.” She then presented one of them to Lord Orville, another to me, and taking a third herself, with a most provoking look, she left the room.
I would instantly have followed her; but Lord Orville, who could not help laughing, begged me to stay a minute, as he had many important matters to discuss.
“No, indeed, my Lord, I cannot — perhaps I have already stayed too long.”
“Does Miss Anville so soon repent her goodness?”
“I scarce know what I do, my Lord — I am quite bewildered!”
“One hour’s conversation,” cried he, “will, I hope, compose your spirits, and confirm my happiness. When, then, may I hope to see you alone? — shall you walk in the garden tomorrow before breakfast?”
“No, no, my Lord; you must not, a second time, reproach me with making an appointment.”
“Do you then,” said he, laughing, “reserve that honour only for Mr. Macartney?”
“Mr. Mccartney,” said I, “is poor, and thinks himself obliged to me; otherwise —”
“Poverty,” cried he, “I will not plead; but, if being obliged to you has any weight, who shall dispute my title to an appointment?”
“My Lord, I can stay no longer — Mrs. Selwyn will lose all patience.”
“Deprive her not of the pleasure of her conjectures — but tell me, are you under Mrs. Selwyn’s care?”
“Only for the present, my Lord.”
“Not a few are the questions I have to ask Miss Anville: among them, the most important is, whether she depends wholly on herself, or whether there is any other person for whose interest I must solicit?”
“I hardly know, my Lord, I hardly know myself to whom I most belong.”
“Suffer, suffer me, then,” cried he, with warmth, “to hasten the time when that shall no longer admit a doubt! — when your grateful Orville may call you all his own!”
At length, but with difficulty, I broke from him. I went, however, to my own room, for I was too much agitated to follow Mrs. Selwyn. Good God, my dear Sir, what a scene! surely the meeting for which I shall prepare tomorrow cannot so greatly affect me! To be loved by Lord Orville — to be the honoured choice of his noble heart — my happiness seemed too infinite to be borne, and I wept, even bitterly I wept, from the excess of joy which overpowered me.
In this state of almost painful felicity I continued till I was summoned to tea. When I re-entered the drawing room, I rejoiced much to find it full of company, as the confusion with which I met Lord Orville was rendered the less observable.
Immediately after tea, most of the company played at cards — and then — till supper time, Lord Orville devoted himself wholly to me.
He saw that my eyes were red, and would not let me rest till he made me confess the cause; and when, though most reluctantly, I had acknowledged my weakness, I could with difficulty refrain from weeping again at the gratitude he expressed.
He earnestly desired to know if my journey could not be postponed! and when I no, entreated permission to attend me to town.
“Oh, my Lord,” cried I, “what a request!”
“The sooner,” answered he, “I make my devotion to you in public, the sooner I may expect, from your delicacy, you will convince the world you encourage no mere danglers.”
“You teach me, then, my Lord, the inference I might expect, if I complied.”
“And can you wonder I should seek to hasten the happy time, when no scruples, no discretion will demand our separation? and the most punctilious delicacy will rather promote, than oppose, my happiness in attending you?”
To this I was silent, and he re-urged his request.
“My Lord,” said I, “you ask what I have no power to grant. This journey will deprive me of all right to act for myself.”
“What does Miss Anville mean?”
“I cannot now explain myself; indeed, if I could, the task would be both painful and tedious.”
“O, Miss Anville,” cried he, “when may I hope to date the period of this mystery? when flatter myself that my promised
