to entertain himself with, he could think only of her.
--The Town without her seemed a desart, and every thing in it rather seemed irksome than agreeable; for several months did he endure this cruel conflict; but love and nature at last got the victory, and all those considerations which had occasioned the opposition subsided: he found it impossible to recover any tranquility of mind while he continued in this dilemma, and therefore yielded to the strongest side. All the arguments he had used with himself in the beginning of his passion seemed now weak and trifling: the difference of age, which he had thought so formidable an objection, appeared none in the light with which he at present considered it: he was now but in his fortieth year, and the temperance he had always observed had hindered any decay either in his looks or constitution.--What censures the world might pass on his marrying one of her age and obscure birth, he thought were of little weight when balanced with his internal peace.--Thus was he enabled to answer to himself all that could be offered against making her his wife; and having thus settled every thing, as he imagined, to the satisfaction of his passion, became no less resolute in following the dictates of it than he had been in combating it while there was a possibility of doing so.
To this end he went down to his country seat, and as soon as he arrived sent to let Louisa know he would have her come and pass some time with him. She readily obeyed the summons, and found by his manner of receiving her that she was no less dear to him than her brother. As she had always considered him as a father, tho' she knew all her claim in him was compassion, she was far from suspecting the motive which made him treat her with so much tenderness; but he suffered her not long to remain in this happy ignorance. As he was walking with her one day in the garden, he purposely led her on that side where he had found Horatio and herself in the manner already related; and as they came towards the arbour, It was here, said he, that heaven put into my power the opportunity of affording my protection to two persons whom I think will not be ungrateful for what I have done.--I hope, Louisa, continued he, you will not at least deceive my good opinion of you; but as you have always found in me a real friend, you will testify the sense you have of my good wishes, by readily following my advice in any material point.
I should be else unworthy, sir, answered she, of the life you have preserved; and I flatter myself with being guilty of nothing which should give you cause to call in question either my gratitude or duty.
I insist but on the former, resumed he; nor can pretend to any claim to the latter;--look on me therefore only as your friend, and let me know your sentiments plainly and sincerely on what I think proper to ask you. This she having assured him she would do, he pursued his discourse in these or the like terms:
You are now, said he, arrived at an age when persons of your sex ordinarily begin to think of marriage.--I need not ask you if you have ever received any addresses for that purpose; the manner in which you have lived convinces me you are yet a stranger to them; but I would know of you whether an overture of that kind, in favour of a man of honour, and who can abundantly endow you with the goods of fortune, would be disagreeable to you.
Alas! sir, replied she, blushing, you commanded me to answer with sincerity, but how can I resolve a question which as yet I have never asked myself?--All that I can say is, that I now am happy by your bounty, and have never entertained one wish but for the continuance of it.
On that you may depend, said he, while you continue to stand in need of it. But would it not be more pleasing to find yourself the mistress of an ample fortune, and in a condition to do the same good offices by others as you have found from me?--In fine, Louisa, the care I have taken of you would not be complete unless I saw you well settled in the world.--I have therefore provided a husband for you, and such a one as I think you can have no reasonable objection to.
Sir, it would ill-become me to dispute your will, answered she, modestly, but as I yet am very young, and have never had a thought of marriage, nor even conversed with any who have experienced that fate, I should be too much at a loss how to behave in it, without being allowed some time to consider on its respective duties.--I hope therefore, sir, continued she, you will not oblige me to act with too much precipitation in an affair on which the happiness or misery of my whole future life depends.
Your very thinking it of consequence, said he, is enough to make you behave so, as to allure your happiness with a man of honour; and indeed Louisa, I love you too well to propose one to you whose principles and humour I could not answer for as well as my own.
Yet, sir, replied she, I have read that a union of hearts as well as hands is necessary for the felicity of that state;--that there ought to be a simpathy of soul between them, and a perfect confidence in each other, before the indissoluble knot is tied:--and this, according to my notion, can only be the result of a long acquaintance and accompanied with many proofs of affection on both sides.
Were all young women to think as you do, said he with a smile, we would have much fewer marriages; they would indeed be happier; therefore I am far from condemning your precaution, nor would wish you should give yourself to one till well assured he was incapable of treating you with less regard after marriage than before:--no, no, Louisa, I will never press you to become a wife, till you shall yourself acknowledge the man I offer to you as a husband is not unworthy of that title, thro' a want of honour, fortune, or affection.
As Louisa thought this must be the work of time, the chagrin she felt at the first mention of marriage was greatly dissipated; and she told him, that when she was once convinced such a person as he described honoured her so far as to think she merited his affection, she would do all in her power to return it.
The enamoured Dorilaus having now brought her to the point he aimed at, thought it best to throw off the mark at once, and leave her no longer in suspence.--Behold then in me, said he, the person I have mentioned: nor think me vain in ascribing those merits to myself which I would wish to be the loadstone of your affection.--My honour, I believe, you will not call in question:--my humour you have never found capricious, or difficult to please; and as for my love, you cannot but allow the conquering that aversion, which myself, as well as all the world, believed unalterable for a marriage state; besides a thousand other scruples opposed my entering into it with you, is a proof greater than almost any other man could give you.--There requires, therefore, my dear Louisa, no time to convince you of what I am, or assure you of what I may be; and I hope the affection you bore me, as a faithful friend, and the protector of your innocence, will not be diminished on my making this declaration.
The confusion in which this speech involved her is even impossible to be conceived, much less can any words come up to its description: she blushed;--she trembled;--she was ready to die between surprize, grief and shame:--fain she would have spoke, but feared, lest what she should say would either lose his friendship or encourage his passion.--Each seemed equally dreadful to her:--no words presented themselves to her distracted mind that she could think proper to utter, till he pressing her several times to reply, and seeming a little to resent her silence--Oh! sir, cried she, how is it possible for me to make any answer to so strange a proposition!--you were not used to rally my simplicity; nor can I think you mean what you now mention. If there wanted no more, said he, than to prove the sincerity of my wishes in this point to gain your approbation of them, my chaplain should this moment put it past a doubt, and confirm my proposal:--but, pursued he, I will not put your modesty to any farther shock at present;--all I intreat is, that you will consider on what I have said, and what the passion I am possessed of merits from you. In concluding these words he kissed her with the utmost tenderness, and quitted her to speak to some men who were at work in another part of the garden, leaving her to meditate at liberty on this surprizing turn in her affairs.
It was indeed necessary he should do so, for the various agitations she laboured under were so violent, as to be near throwing her into a swoon.---She no sooner found herself alone, than she flew to her chamber, and locked herself in, to prevent being interrupted by any of the servants; and as in all emotions of the mind, especially in that of a surprize, tears are a very great relief, her's
