when we heard the trampling of horses; and, fearing the narrowness of the passage, we were turning hastily back, but stopped upon hearing a voice call out, “Pray, Ladies, don’t be frightened, for I will walk my horse.” We turned again, and then saw Sir Clement Willoughby. He dismounted; and approaching us with the reins in his hand, presently recollected us. “Good Heaven,” cried he, with his usual quickness, “do I see Miss Anville? — and you too, Miss Mirvan?”
He immediately ordered his servant to take charge of his horse; and then, advancing to us, took a hand of each, which he pressed to his lips, and said a thousand fine things concerning his good fortune, our improved looks, and the charms of the country, when inhabited by such rural deities. “The town, Ladies, has languished since your absence; — or, at least, I have so much languished myself, as to be absolutely insensible to all it had to offer. One refreshing breeze, such as I now enjoy, awakens me to new vigour, life, and spirit. But I never before had the good luck to see the country in such perfection.”
“Has not almost every body left town, Sir?” said Miss Mirvan.
“I am ashamed to answer you, Madam — but indeed it is as full as ever, and will continue so till after the 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 I.
“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 him, lest he should think me curious. Perhaps, if he stays here some time, he may speak of him by accident.
He was proceeding in this complimentary style, when we were met by the Captain; who no sooner perceived Sir Clement, than he hastened up to him, gave him a hearty shake of the hand, a cordial slap on the back, and some other equally gentle tokens of satisfaction, assuring him of his great joy at his visit, and declaring he was as glad to see him as if he had been a messenger who brought news that a French ship was sunk. Sir Clement, on the other side, expressed himself with equal warmth; and protested he had been so eager to pay his respects to Captain Mirvan, that he had left London in its full lustre, and a thousand engagements 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 with me that could enjoy a joke: howsomever, it shall go hard but we’ll have some diversion now.”
Sir Clement very much approved of the proposal; and we then went into the house, where he had a very grave reception from Mrs. Mirvan, who is by no means pleased with his visit, and a look of much discontent from Madame Duval, who said to me in a low voice, “I’d as soon have seen Old Nick as that man, for he’s the most impertinentest person in the world, and isn’t never of my side.”
The Captain is now actually occupied in contriving some scheme, which, he says, is to pay the old Dowager off; and so eager and delighted is he at the idea, that he can scarcely restrain his raptures sufficiently to conceal his design even from herself. I wish, however, since I do not dare put Madame Duval upon her guard, that he had the delicacy not to acquaint me with his intention.
LETTER 33
EVELINA IN CONTINUATION
May 13th.
The Captain’s operations are begun — and, I hope, ended; for, indeed, poor Madame Duval has already but too much reason to regret Sir Clement’s visit to Howard Grove.
Yesterday morning, during breakfast, as the Captain was reading the newspaper, Sir Clement suddenly begged to look at it, saying, he wanted to know if there was any account of a transaction, at which he had been present the evening before his journey hither, concerning a poor Frenchman, who had got into a scrape which might cost him his life.
The Captain demanded particulars; and then Sir Clement told a long story of being with a party of country friends at the Tower, and hearing a man call out for mercy in French; and that, when he inquired into the occasion of his distress, he was informed that he had been taken up upon suspicion of treasonable practices against the government. “The poor fellow,” continued he, “no sooner found that I spoke French, than he besought me to hear him, protesting that he had no evil designs; that he had been but a short time in England, and only waited the return of a lady from the country to quit it for ever.”
Madame Duval changed colour, and listened with the utmost attention.
“Now, though I by no means approve of so many foreigners continually flocking into our country,” added he, addressing himself to the Captain, “yet I could not help pitying the poor wretch, because he did not know enough of English to make his defence; however, I found it impossible to assist him; for the mob would not suffer me to interfere. In truth, I am afraid he was but roughly handled.”
“Why, did they duck him?” said the Captain.
“Something of that sort,” answered he.
“So much the better! so much the better!” cried the Captain, “an impudent French puppy! I’ll bet you what you will he was a rascal. I only wish all his countrymen were served the same.”
“I wish you had been in his place, with all my soul!” cried Madame Duval, warmly; —“but pray, Sir, did’n’t nobody know who this poor gentleman was?”
“Why I did hear his name,” answered Sir Clement, “but I cannot recollect it.”
“It wasn’t — it wasn’t — Du Bois?” stammered out Madame Duval.
“The very name!” answered he: “yes, Du Bois, I remember it now.”
Madame Duval’s cup fell from her hand, as she repeated “Du Bois! Monsieur Du Bois, did you say?”
“Du Bois! why, that’s my friend,” cried the Captain, “that’s Monseer Slippery, 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, Madame.”
“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 with poor Monseer?”
“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 sorts of affairs.”
“Why, do you think they’ll hang him?” demanded the Captain.
Sir
