 Book 7, Chapter 8 of the Female Quixote, Volume 2. The Female Quixote, Volume 2 by Charlotte Lennox, Book 7, Chapter 8. Some reflections very fit, and others very unfit for an assembly room. You speak in strange terms, replied Arabella, blushing, of a princess who, if she was not the most reserved and severe person in the world, was yet nevertheless absolutely chaste. I know there were people who represented her partiality for Ovid in a very unfavorable light, but that ingenious poet, when he related his history to the great Agrippa, told him in confidence all that had passed between him and the princess Julia, than which nothing could be more innocent, though a little indiscreet, for it is certain that she permitted him to love her, and did not condemn him to any rigorous punishment for daring to tell her so. Yet for all this, as I said before, though she was not altogether so austere as she ought to have been, yet she was nevertheless a most virtuous princess. Mr. Selvin, not daring to contradict a lady whose extensive reading had furnished her with anecdotes unknown almost to anybody else, by his silence confessed her superiority. But Mr. Glanville, who knew all these anecdotes were drawn from romances, which he found contradicted the known facts in history, and assigned the most ridiculous causes for things of the greatest importance, could not help smiling at the facility with which Mr. Selvin gave into those idle absurdities. For notwithstanding his affection of great reading, his superficial knowledge of history made it extremely easy to deceive him, and as it was his custom to mark in his pocketbook all the scraps of history he heard introduced into conversation, and retell them again in other company, he did not doubt but he would make a figure with the curious circumstances Arabella had furnished him with. Arabella observing Mr. Tinsel by his familiar bows, significant smiles, and easy salutations, was acquainted with the greatest part of the assembly, told him that she did not doubt but he knew the adventures of many persons whom they were viewing, and that he would do her a pleasure if he would relate some of them. Mr. Tinsel was charmed with a request which afforded him an opportunity of gratifying a favorite inclination, and seating himself near her immediately was beginning to obey her injunctions when she gracefully entreated him to stay a moment, and calling to Mr. Glanville and his sister, who were talking to Mr. Selvin, asked them if they chose to partake of a more rational amusement than dancing, and listen to the adventures of some illustrious persons which Mr. Tinsel had promised to relate. I assure you, madam, said Mr. Glanville, smiling, you will find that a less innocent amusement than dancing. Why so, sir? replied Arabella, since it is not an indiscreet curiosity which prompts me to a desire of hearing the histories Mr. Tinsel has promised to entertain me with, but rather a hope of hearing something which may at once improve and delight me, something which may excite my admiration, engage my esteem, or influence my practice. Twas doubtless with such motives as these that we find princesses and ladies of the most illustrious rank in Clelia and the Grand Cyrus listening to the adventures of persons in whom they were probably as little interested as we are in these around us. Kings, princes, and commanders of armies, though it was no waste of their time in the midst of the hurry and clamour of a camp, to listen many hours to the relation of one single history and not filled with any extraordinary events, but happily a simple recital of common occurrences. The great Cyrus, while he was busy in reducing all Asia to his yoke, heard nevertheless the histories of all the considerable persons in the camp, besides those of strangers and even his enemies. If there was therefore anything either criminal or mean in hearing the adventures of others, do you imagine so many great and illustrious persons would have given in to such an amusement? After this Arabella turned gravely about to Mr. Tinsel and told him he was at liberty to begin his recital. The bow, a little disconcerted by the solemnity with which she requested his information, knew not how to begin with the formality that he saw was required of him, and therefore sat silent for a few moments which Arabella supposed was to recall to his memory all the passages he proposed to relate. His perplexity would probably have increased instead of listening by the profound silence which she observed, had not Miss Glanville seated herself with a sprightly air on the other side of him and directing his eyes to a tall handsome woman that had just entered, asked him pleasantly to tell her history if he knew it. Mr. Tinsel brought into his usual track by this question, answered smiling, that the history of that lady was yet a secret or known but to a very few, but my intelligence, added he, is generally the earliest and may always be depended on. Perhaps, said Arabella, the lady is one of your acquaintances and favoured you with the recital of her adventure from her own mouth. No really, madam, answered Mr. Tinsel, surprised at the great simplicity of Arabella, for so he understood it. The lady, I believe, is not so communicative, and to say the truth I should not choose to hear her adventures from herself, since she certainly would suppress the most material circumstances. In a word, said he, lowering his voice, that lady was for many years the mistress of a young military nobleman whom she was so complacent to follow in all his campaigns, marches, sieges, and every inconvenience he of war. He married her in Gibraltar, from whence he has lately arrived, and introduced his new lady to his noble brother by whom she was not unfavourably received. Tis worth remarking that this same haughty peer thought fit to resent with implacable obstinacy the marriage of another of his brothers with the widow of a brave officer of considerable rank in the army. Tis true she was several years older than the young lord, and had no fortune, but the duke assigned other reasons for his displeasure. He complained loudly that his brother had dishonoured the nobility of his birth by this alliance, and continued his resentment till the death of the young hero, who gave many remarkable proofs of his courage and fortitude upon several occasions, and died gloriously before the walls of Carthagina, leaving his disconsolate lady a widow a second time, with the acquisition of a title indeed but a very small addition to her fortune. With that gay splendid lady I beseech you, madam, pursued he, turning to Arabella, how effectively she looks and talks, and throws her eyes around the room, with a haughty self-sufficiency in her aspect, an insolent contempt for everything but herself. Her habit, her speech, her motions are all French. Nothing in England is able to please her, the people so dull, so awkwardly polite, the manner so gross, no delicacy, no elegance, no magnificence in their persons, houses, or diversions. Everything is so distasteful, there is no living in such a place. One may crawl about indeed, she says, and make a shift to breathe in the odious country, but one cannot be said to live, and with all the requisites to render life delightful, here one can only suffer, not enjoy it. Would one not imagine, pursued he, this fine lady was a person of very exalted rank, who has the sanction of birth, riches, and grandeur for her extraordinary pride, and yet she is no other than the daughter of an innkeeper at Spa, and had the exalted post assigned her of attending new lodgers to their apartments, acquainting them with all the conveniences of the place, answering in humble question or two concerning what company was in the town, what scandal was stirring, and the like. One of our great sea commanders going thither for his health happened to lodge at this inn, and was so struck with her charms that he married her in a few weeks, and soon after brought her to England. Which was the origin of this fantastic lady, whose insupportable pride and ridiculous affection draws contempt and aversion where she appears? Did I not tell you, madam, interrupted Mr. Glanville, that the amusement you had chose was not so innocent as dancing? What a deal of scandal has Mr. Tensil uttered in the compass of a few minutes. I assure you, replied Arabella, I know not what to make of the histories he has been relating. I think they do not deserve that name, and are rather detached pieces of satire on particular persons than a serious relation of facts. I confess my expectations from this gentleman have not been answered. I think, however, madam, said Mr. Glanville, we may allow that there is a negative merit in the relations Mr. Tensil has made, for if he has not shown us anything to approve, he has at least shown us what to condemn. The ugliness of vice, replied Arabella, ought only to be represented to the vicious, to whom satire, like a magnifying glass, may aggravate every defect in order to make its deformity appear more hideous. But since its end is only to approve and amend, it should never be addressed to any but those who come within its correction, and may be the better for it. A virtuous mind need not be shown the deformity of vice to make it be hated and avoided. The more pure and uncorrupted our ideas are, the less shall we be influenced by example. A natural propensity to virtue or vice often determines the choice. It is sufficient, therefore, to show a good mind what it ought to pursue, though a bad one must be told what to avoid. In a word one ought to be always incited, the other always restrained. I vow, Lady Bella, said Miss Glanville, you'd make one think one came here to hear a sermon. You are so very grave, and talk upon such high-flown subjects. What harm was there in what Mr. Tensil was telling us? It would be hard indeed if one might not divert oneself with other people's faults. I am afraid, Miss, said Arabella, those who can divert themselves with the faults of others are not behind hand in affording diversion, and that very inclination added she, smilingly, to hear other people's faults may buy those very people be condemned as one and afford them the same kind of ill-natured pleasure you are so desirous of. Nay, madam, returned Miss Glanville, your ladyship was the first to introduce the discourse you condemn so much. Did not you desire Mr. Tensil to tell you the histories about the company, and ask my brother and me to come and hear them? Tis true, replied Arabella, that I did desire you to partake with me of a pleasing and rational amusement, for such I imagined Mr. Tensil's histories might afford. Far from a detail of vices, follies, and irregularities, I expected to have heard the adventures of some illustrious personages related between whose actions and those of the heroes and heroines of antiquity I might have found some resemblance. For instance, I hoped to have heard imitated the sublime courage of Aclelia, who, to save her honour from the attempts of the impious Tarquin, leapt into the river Tiber and swim to the other side, or the noble resolution of the incomparable Candice, who, to escape out of the hands of her ravisher, the pirate Xenodorus, set fire to his vessel with her own hands, and committed herself to the mercy of the waves, or the constancy and affection of a Mandana, who, for the sake of Osiris, refused the richest crowns in the world, and braved the terrors of death to preserve herself for him. As for the men, I hoped to have heard of some who might have almost equaled the great Oroandates, the invincible Artaban, the valiant Juba, the renowned Alcamines, and many thousand heroes of antiquity whose glorious exploits and war, and unshaken constancy and love, have given them an immortal flame. While Arabella was uttering this long speech, with great emotion, Miss Glanville, with a fly look at the bow, gave him to understand that was her cousin's foible. Mr. Tinsel, however, not able to comprehend the meaning of what she said, listened to her with many signs of perplexity and wonder. Mr. Selvin, in secret, repined at her prodigious knowledge of history, and Mr. Glanville, with his eyes fixed on the ground, bit his lips almost through with madness. In the meantime, several among the company, desirous of hearing what the strange lady was saying so loud, and with so much eagerness and emotion, gathered round them, which Mr. Glanville observing and fearing Arabella would expose herself still farther, whispered his sister to get her away if possible. Miss Glanville, though very unwilling, obeyed his injunctions, and, complaining of a sudden headache, Arabella immediately proposed retiring, which was joyfully complied with by Mr. Glanville, who, with the other gentlemen, being a chapter of the satirical kind. At their return, Sir Charles told his niece that she had now had a specimen of the world, and some of the fashionable amusements, and asked her how she had been entertained. Why, truly, sir, replied she, smiling, I have brought away no great relish for a renewal of the amusement I have partaken of tonight. If the world, in which you seem to think I am but new-initiated, affords only these kinds of pleasures, I shall very soon regret the solitude and books I have quitted. Why, pray, said Miss Glanville, what kind of amusements did your ladyship expect to find in the world, and what was there disagreeable in your entertainment tonight? I am sure there is no place in England, except London, where there is so much good company to be met with, as here. The assembly was very numerous and brilliant, and one can be at no loss for amusements. The pump room in the morning, the parade, and the rooms in the evening, with little occasional parties of pleasure, will find one's sufficient employment and leave none of one's time to lie useless on one's hand. I am of opinion, replied Arabella, that one's time is far from being well employed in the manner you potion it out, and people who spend theirs in such trifling amusements must certainly live to very little purpose. What room, I pray you, does a lady give for high and noble adventures, who consumes her days in dressing, dancing, listening to songs, and ranging the walks with people as thoughtless as herself? How mean and contemptible a figure must a life spent in such idle amusements make in history. Or rather, are not such persons always bereaved in oblivion, and can any pen be found who would condescent to record such inconsiderable actions? Nor can I persuade myself, added she, that any of those men whom I saw at the assembly, with figures so feminine, voices so soft, such tripping steps and unmeaning gestures, have ever signalized either their courage or constancy, but might be overcome by their enemy in battle, or be false to their mistress in love. Law, cousin, replied Miss Glanville, you are always talking of battles and fighting. Do you expect that persons of quality and fine gentlemen will go the worse? What business have they to fight? That belongs to the officers. Then every fine gentleman is an officer, said Arabella, and some of the title ought to be found out for men who do nothing but dance and dress. I could never have imagined, interrupted Mr. Tinsel, surveying Arabella, that a lady so elegant and gay in her own appearance should have an aversion to pleasure and magnificence. I sure hear, sir, replied Arabella, I have an aversion to neither. On the contrary, I am a great admirer of both, but my ideas of amusement and grandeur are probably different than yours. I will allow the ladies to be solicitous about their habits and dress with all the care and elegance they are capable of, but such trifles are below the consideration of a man who ought not to owe the dignity of his appearance to the embroidery on his coat, but to his high and noble air, the grandeur of his courage, the elevation of his sentiments, and the many heroic actions he has performed. Such a man will dress his person with a graceful simplicity and lavish all his gold and embroidery upon his armor to render him conspicuous in the day of battle. The plumes in his helmet will look more graceful in the field than the feather in his hat at a ball, and jewels blaze with more propriety on his shield and cures in battle than glittering on his finger in a dance. Do not imagine, however, preserved she, that I absolutely condemn dancing and think it a diversion wholly and worthy of a hero. History has recorded some very famous bolts at which the most illustrious persons in the world have appeared. Cyrus, the great, we are informed, opened a ball with the Divine Mandana at Sardis. The renowned King of Scythia danced with the Princess Cleopatra at Alexandria, the brave Cleomedon with the fair Candice of Ethiopia, but these diversions were taken out seldom and considered indeed as an amusement not as a part of the business of life. How would so many glorious battles have been fought? Cities taken, ladies rescued, and other great and noble adventures being achieved if the men sunk in sloth and effeminacy had continually followed the sound of a fiddle sauntered in public walks and tattled over a tea table. I vow, cousin, said Miss Glanville, you are infinitely more severe in your censures than Mr. Tinsel was at the assembly. You had little reason me things to be angry with him. All I have said, replied Arabella, were the natural inference from your own account of the manner in which people live here. When actions are a censure upon themselves, the reciter will always be considered as a satirist. Mr. Tinsel, who had listened attentively to this discourse of Arabella, took leave as soon as it was ended and went away with very different opinions of her. Mr. Tinsel, declaring she was a fool and had no knowledge of the world, and Mr. Selvin convinced she was a wit and very learned in antiquity. Certainly, said Mr. Selvin in support of his opinion, the lady has great judgment, has been capable of prodigious application as the parent by her extensive reading. Then her memory is quite miraculous. I protest, I am quite charmed with her. I never met with such a woman in my life. Her cousin, in my opinion, replied Mr. Tinsel, is infinitely beyond her in every merit, but beauty, how sprightly and free her conversation, but a thorough knowledge of the world, so true a taste for polite amusements and a fund of spirits that sets vapor and spleen at defiance. This speech, bringing a sense of the difference between the ladies, the champions for each, grew so warm in the dispute that they had like to have quarreled. However, by the interposition of some other gentlemen who are with them, they parted tolerable friends that night and renewed their visits to Sir Charles in the morning. They found only Miss Glamville with her father and brother. Arabella generally spent the mornings in her own chamber, where reading in the labors of the toilet employed her time till dinner, though it must be confirmed by the honor that the latter engrossed but a very small part of it. Miss Glamville, with whom the bow had a long conversation at one of the windows, in which he recounted his dispute with Mr. Selvin, and the danger he ran of being pinked in a duel, that was his phrase, for her sake. At last proposed a walk, to which she consented, and engaged to prevail upon Arabella to accompany them. That lady, at first positively refused, alledged her time till dinner, though it must be confessed to her honor that the latter engrossed but a very small part of it. At first positively refused, alleging an excuse that she was so extremely interested in the fate of the Princess Melisinta, whose story she was reading, that she could not stir till she had finished it. That poor princess, continued she, is at present in a most terrible situation. She has just set fire to the palace in order to avoid the embraces of a king who forced her to marry him. I am in pain to know how she escapes the flames. Let her perish there, if she will. Don't let her hinder our walk. Who is it you doom with so much cruelty to perish? said Arabella, closing the book, and looking steadfastly on her cousin. Is it the beautiful Melisinta, that princess whose fortitude and patience have justly rendered her the admiration of the whole world? That princess descended from a race of heroes whose heroic virtues all glowed in her own beauty expressed. That princess, who, when taken captive with the king her father bore her imprisonment and chains with a marvelous constancy, and who, when she enslaved her conqueror and given fetters to the prince who held her father and herself in bonds, nobly refused the diadem he proffered her, and devoted herself to destruction in order to punish the enemy of her house. I am not able to relate the rest of her history, seeing I have read no further myself, but if you will be pleased to sit down and listen to me while I read what remains, I am persuaded you will find new princess. Pardon me, madam, said Miss Glanville. I have heard enough, and I could have been very well satisfied not to have heard so much. I think we waste a great deal of time talking about people we know nothing of. The morning will be quite lost if we don't make haste. Come, added she, you must go. You have a new lover below who waits to go with us. He'll die if I don't bring you. And Erebella surprised. I, I, said Miss Glanville, will learn it, Mr. Selvin. I assure you he had almost quarreled with Mr. Tinsel last night about your ladyship. Erebella, at this intelligence, casting down her eyes, discovered many signs of anger and confusion, and after a silence of some moments during which Miss Glanville had been employed in adjusting her dress at the glass, dressing herself to her cousin with an accent somewhat less sweet than before. Any other than yourself, Miss, said she, acquainted me with the presumption of that unfortunate person I should happily have discovered my resentment in other terms. But as it is, I must inform you that I take it extremely ill you should be accessory to giving me this offence. Hey, day, said Miss Glanville, turning about hastily, how have I offended your ladyship, pray? I am willing to hope, cousin, replied Erebella, that it was only to divert yourself from the trouble and confusion in which you see me, that you have indiscreetly told things which ought to have been buried in silence. And what is all this mighty trouble and confusion about then, madam? said Miss Glanville, smiling. It is because I told you Mr. Selvin was a lover of your ladyship. Certainly, said Erebella, such an information is sufficient to give one a great deal of perplexity. Is it such a little matter, thank you, to be told that a man has the presumption of a life? A mere trifle, replied Miss Glanville, laughing. A hundred lovers are not worth a moment's thought when one's sure of them, for then the trouble is all over. And as for this unfortunate person, as your ladyship called him, let him die at his leisure while we go to the parade. Your levity, cousin, said Erebella, forces me to smile notwithstanding the cause I have to be incensed. However, I have charity enough to make me not desire the death of Mr. Selvin, who may repair the crime he has been guilty of by repentance and discontinuation. Well then, said Miss Glanville, you are resolved to go to the parade. Shall I reach you your odd kind of capuchin? How, said Erebella, can I with any propriety see a man who has discovered himself to have a passion for me? Will he not construe such a favour into a permission for him to hope? Oh, no, interrupted Miss Glanville, he does not imagine that I have told him that he loves you, for indeed he don't know that I am acquainted with his passion. Then he is less culpable than I thought him, replied Erebella, and if you think I am in no danger of hearing a confession of his fault from his own mouth, I'll comply with your request and go with you to parade. But, added she, I must first engage you to promise not to leave me alone a moment, lest he should take advantage of such an opportunity to give some hint of his passion that would force me seriously. Miss Glanville answered laughing that she would be sure to mind her directions. However, said she, your ladieship need not be apprehensive, he will say any fine things to you, for I knew a young lady he was formerly in love with, and the odious creature visited her a twelve month before he found courage enough to tell her she was handsome. Doubtless, replied Erebella, he was much to be commended for his respect. A lover should never have the presumption to declare his passion mistress, unless in certain circumstances which may at the same time in part disarm her anger. For instance, he must struggle with the violence of his passion till it has cast him into a fever. His physicians must give him over, pronouncing his distemper incurable since the cause of it being in his mind all their art is incapable of removing it. Thus he must suffer rejoicing at the approach of death which will free him from all his torments. Without violating the oaths to the divine object of his flame. At length, when he has but a few hours to live, his mistress with many signs of compassion conjures him to tell her the cause of his despair. The lover, conscious of his crime, evades all her inquiries. But the lady laying at last a peremptory command upon him to disclose the secret he dares not disobey her, and acknowledges his passion with the utmost contrition for having offended her. Bidding her take the small remainder of his life to expiate his crime and finishes his discourse by falling into a swoon. The lady is touched at his condition, commands him to live, and if necessary permits him to hope. This is the most common way in which such declarations are and ought to be brought about. However, there are others which are as well-calculated for sparing a lady's confusion and deprecating her wrath. The lover, for example, like the Prince of the Masegates, after having buried his passion in silence for many years, may chance to be walking with his confidant in a retired place, to whom with the deluge of tears he relates the excess of his passion and despair. And while he is thus unbosoming his griefs, not in the least suspecting he is overheard, his Princess who had been listening to him in much trouble and confusion by some little rustling she makes unawares discovers herself. The surprised lover throws himself at her feet, begs pardon for his rashness, observes that he had never presumed to discover his passion to her, and implores her leave to die before her as a punishment for his undesigned offence. The method which the great Artemines took to let the Princess of Medea know he adored her was not less respectful. This valiant Prince who had long loved her, being to fight a great battle in which he had some secret presages he should fall, which however deceived him, wrote a long letter to the Divine Mandana when he discovered his passion and the resolution his respect had inspired him with to consume in silence and never presumed to disclose his love while he lived, appointing her that he had ordered that letter not to be delivered to her till it was certainly known that he was dead. Accordingly he received several wounds in the fight which brought him to the ground and his body not being found they concluded it was in the enemy's possession. His faithful squire who had received his instructions for the battle hastens to the Princess who, with all the court, is mightily affected at his death. He presents her the letter which she makes no scruple to receive since the writer is no more. She reads it and her whole soul is melted with compassion. She bewails his fate with the most tender and affectionate marks of grief. Her confidant asks why she is so much affected since in all probability she would not have pardoned him for loving her had he been alive. She acknowledges the truth of her observation takes notice that his death having cancelled his crime his respectful passion alone employs her thoughts. She is resolved to be well as innocent and worthy of compassion when dead whom living she would treat as a criminal and insinuates that her heart had entertained an affection for him. Her confidant treasures up this hint and endeavors to console her but in vain till loses brought that our dominies who had been carried for dead out of the field and by a very surprising adventure concealed all this time is returned. The princess is covered with confusion and though glad he is alive resolves to banish him for his crime. Her confidant pleads his cause so well that she consents to see him and since he can no longer conceal his passion he confirms the confession in his letter humbly begging pardon for being still alive. The princess who cannot plead ignorance of this passion nor deny the sorrow she testified for his death condescends to pardon him and he is also permitted to hope. In like manner the great Prince of Persia does your ladyship consider how late it is, interrupted Miss Glanville who had hitherto very impatiently listened to her. Don't let us keep the gentleman waiting any longer for us. I must inform you how the Prince of Persia declared his love for the incomparable Berenice said Arabella. Another time dear cousin, said Miss Glanville he thinks we have talked long enough upon this subject. I am sorry the time has seemed so tedious to you, said Arabella, smiling and therefore I'll trespass no longer upon your patience. Then ordering Lucy to bring her hat and gloves she went downstairs followed by Miss Glanville who was greatly disappointed at her not putting on her veil. Book 7 CHAPTER X Book 7 CHAPTER XI OF THE FEMALE KEHOTE Volume II This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Mary Herndon Bell The Female Keyhote Volume II by Charlotte Lennox Book 7 CHAPTER XI In which our heroine being mistaken herself gives occasion for a great many other mistakes. As soon as the ladies enter the room, Mr. Selvin with more gaiety than usual advance towards Arabella who put on so cold and severe accountants at his approach that the poor man extremely confused drew back and remained in great perplexity fearing he had offended her. Mr. Tinsel, seeing Mr. Selvin's reception, an odd by the becoming majesty in her person, not withstanding all his assurance, accosted her with less confidence than was his custom. But Arabella, softening her looks with the most engaging smiles made an apology for detaining them so long from the parade, gave her hand to the bow as being not a suspected person, and permitted him to lead her out. Mr. Glanville, to whom she always allowed the preference on those occasions being a little indisposed and not able to attend her. Mr. Tinsel, whose vanity was greatly flattered by the preference Arabella gave him to his companion proceeded according to his usual custom, to examine her looks and behavior with more care. Conceiving such a preference must proceed from a latent motive which was not unfavorable to him. His discernment on these occasions being very surprising he soon discovered in the bright eyes of Arabella a secret approbation of his person which he endeavored to increase by displaying it with all the address he was master of and did not fail to talk her into an opinion of his wit by ridiculing everybody who passed them and directing several studied compliments to herself. Miss Glanville, who was not so agreeably entertained by the grave Mr. Selvin, saw these advances to a gallantry with her cousin with great disturbance. She was resolved to interrupt it if possible. In being convinced Mr. Selvin preferred Arabella's conversation to hers, she plotted how to pair them together herself. As they walked a few paces behind her cousin and Mr. Tinsel she was in no danger of being overheard and taking occasion to put Mr. Selvin in mind of Arabella's behavior to him when he accosted her, she asked him if he was conscious of having done anything to offend her. I protest, madam, replied Mr. Selvin. I know not of anything I have done to displease her. I never had any knowledge in my respect stored her ladyship for whom indeed I have a most profound veneration. I know so much of her temper, resumed Miss Glanville, as to be certain if she has taken it into her head to be angry with you, she will be ten times more so at your indifference, and if you hope for her favor you must ask her pardon with the most earnest submission imaginable. If I knew I had offended her, I would very willingly ask her pardon. But really, since I have not been guilty of any thought towards her ladyship, I don't know how to acknowledge it. Well, said Miss Glanville coldly, I only took the liberty to give you some friendly advice, which you may follow or not as you please. I know my cousin is angry at something and I wish you were friends again. That's all. I am mightily obliged to you, madam, said Mr. Selvin. And since you assure me her ladyship is angry, I'll ask her pardon, though really, as I said before, I don't know for what. Well, interrupted Miss Glanville. We'll join them at the end of the parade. And to give you an opportunity speaking to my cousin, I'll engage Mr. Tencel myself. Mr. Selvin, who thought himself greatly obliged to Miss Glanville for her good intentions, though in reality she had a view of exposing of her cousin, as well as an inclination to engage Mr. Tencel, took courage as they turned to get on the other side of Arabella, whom he had not dared before to approach, while Miss Glanville, addressing a whisper of no great importance to her cousin, parted her from the bow, and slackening the bow, which Arabella being too polite to interrupt, remained in a very perplexing situation dreading every moment that Mr. Selvin would explain himself. Alarmed at his silence, yet resolved to interrupt him if he began to speak, and afraid of beginning a conversation first, lest he should construe it to his advantage. Mr. Selvin, being naturally timid in the company of ladys, the grace which he was in with Arabella, her silence in reserve so added to his accustomed diffidence, that though he endeavored several times to speak he was not able to bring out anything but a pre-looting M, which he observes to his extreme confusion seemed always to increase Arabella's constraint. Indeed that lady, upon any suspicion that he was going to break his silence, always contracted her brow into a frown, cast down her eyes with an air of perplexity, endeavored to hide her blushes with her fan, and to show her inattention directed her looks to the countryside. The lady and gentleman being in equal confusion, no advances were made on either side towards a conversation, and they had reached almost the end of the parade in an uninterrupted silence. When Mr. Selvin began, have so good an opportunity of making his peace, collected all his resolution, and with an accent trembling under the importance of the speech he was going to make, began, Madam, since I have had the honor of walking with your ladyship, I have observed so many signs of constraint in your manner that I hardly dared to entreat you to grant me a moment's hearing, while I, sir, interrupted Arabella. Before you go any further, I must inform you that what you are going to say will mortally offend me. Take heed, then, how you commit an indiscretion which will force me to treat you very rigorously. If your ladyship will not allow me to speak in my own justification, said Mr. Selvin, yet I hope you will not refuse to tell me my offense, since I, you are very confident, indeed, interrupted Arabella again, to suppose I will repeat what would be infinitely grievous for you to hear. Against my will, pursued she, I must give you the satisfaction to know that I am not ignorant of your crime, but I also assure you that I am highly incensed, and that not only with the thoughts you have dared entertain of me, but likewise with your presumption in going about to disclose them. Mr. Selvin, whom the seeming contradictions in this speech astonished, yet imagined in general, it hinted at the dispute between him and Mr. Tencel, and supposing the story had been told to his disadvantage, which was the cause of her anger, replied in great emotion at the injustice done him. Since someone has been so officious to acquaint your ladyship with an affair which ought to have been kept from your knowledge, it is a pity they did not inform you that Mr. Tencel was the person that had the least respect for your ladyship and is more worthy of your resentment. If Mr. Tencel, replied Arabella, is guilty of any offense like yours, yet since he has concealed it better, he is less culpable than you, and you have done that for him, which happily he would never have had courage enough to do for himself as long as he lived. Poor Selvin, quite confounded in these intricate words, would have begged her to explain herself had she not silenced him with a dreadful frown. And making a stop till Miss Glanville and Mr. Tencel came up to them, she told her cousin with a peevish accent that she had performed her promise very ill and whispered her that she was to blame for all the mortifications she had suffered. Mr. Tencel, supposing the alteration in Arabella's rumor proceeded from being so long deprived of his company, endeavored to make her amends by a profusion of compliments which she received with such an error of displeasure that the bow vexed at the ill success of his gallantry, told her he was afraid Mr. Selvin's gravity had infected her ladyship. Say rather, replied Arabella, that his indiscretion has offended me. Mr. Tencel, charmed with his beginning confidence which confirmed his hopes of having made some impression on her heart, conjured her very earnestly to tell him how Mr. Selvin had offended her. Tis sufficient, resumed she, that I tell you he has offended me without declaring the nature of his crime. Since doubtless it has not escaped your observation which, if I may believe him, is not wholly disinterested. To confess yet more, Tis that he has told me something concerning you which, let me perish, madam," interrupted the bow, if one syllable he has said be true. How, said Arabella, a little disconcerted, will you always persist in a denial then? Deny it, madam," returned Mr. Tencel, I'll deny what he has said with my last breath. Tis all a scandalous forgery. No man living is less likely to think of your friendship in that manner. If you knew my thoughts, madam, you would be convinced nothing is more impossible, and, sir," interrupted Arabella, extremely mortified, me thinks you are very eager in your justification. I promise you, I do not think you guilty of the offence he charged you with. If I did, you would happily experience my resentment in such a manner as would make you repent of your presumption. Arabella, in finishing these words, interrupted Miss Glanville's discourse with Mr. Selvin to tell her she desired to return home, to which that young lady, who had not been at all pleased with the morning's walk, consented. End of Book 7, Chapter 11. Book 7, Chapter 12 of the Female Quixote, Volume 2. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings for more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Mary Herndon Bell. The Female Quixote, Volume 2, by Charlotte Lennox. Book 7, Chapter 12. In which our heroine reconciles herself to a mortifying incident by recollecting an adventure in a romance similar to her own. As soon as the ladies were come to their lodgings, Arabella went up to her own apartment to meditate upon what had passed, and Miss Glanville retired to dress for dinner, while the two gentlemen, who thought they had great reason to be dissatisfied with each other on account of Lady Bella's behavior, went to a coffee-house in order to come to some explanation about it. Well, sir," said the beau, with the sarcastic air, and reached to you for the endeavours you have used to ruin me in Lady Bella's opinion. Rat me, if it is not the greatest misfortune in the world, to give occasion to Envy. Envy, sir," interrupted Mr. Selvin. I protest I do really admire your great skill in stratagems, but I do not envy you the possession of it. You have indeed very wittily contrived to put my own sentiments which you delivered so freely the other night into my mouth. It was a masterpiece of cunning, indeed. And as I said before, I admire your skill prodigiously. I don't know what you mean," replied Tinsel. You talk in riddles. Did you not yourself acquaint Lady Bella with the preference I gave Miss Glanville to her? What would you propose by such a piece of treachery? You have ruined all my hopes by it. The Lady resents it excessively. And to no wonder Faith, it must certainly mortify her. Bond my soul. I can never forgive thee for so malapropo a discovery. Forgive me, sir," replied Selvin in a rage. I don't want your forgiveness. I have done nothing unbecoming a man of honor. The Lady was so prejudiced by your insinuations that she would not give me leave to speak. I would have fully informed her of her mistake, that she might have known how much she was obliged to you. So she would not hear thee interrupted Tinsel laughing. Dear soul, how very kind was that! Faith, I don't know how it is. But I'm very lucky without deserving to be so. No art a witness for me, Frank. I took no great pains to gain this fine creature's heart. But it was damn malicious, though, to attempt to make discoveries. I see she is a little peaked. But I'll set all to rights again with a b.a.d.u. I have an excellent hand, though I say it, at a b.a.d.u. I never knew one of mine to fail in my life. Harky, sir," said Selvin, whispering, any more attempts to shift your sentiments upon me, and you shall hear of it. In the meantime, be assured I'll clear myself and put the saddle upon the right horse. Demi, if thou art not a queer fellow, said Tinsel, endeavouring to hide his discomposure at this threat upon a forced laugh. Selvin, without making any reply, retired to write to Arabella, which Tinsel, suspecting, resolved to be beforehand with him, and without leaving the coffee-house, called for paper, and wrote a billet to her, which he dispatched away immediately. The messenger had just got admittance to Lucy when another arrived from Selvin, and the messenger when another arrived from Selvin. They both presented their letters, but Lucy refused them, saying her lady would turn her away if she received such sort of letters. Such sort of letters returned Tinsel's men. Why, do you know what they contained then? To be sure I do, replied Lucy. They are love letters, and my lady has charged me never to receive any more. Well, replied Selvin Servant, you may take my letter. For my master desired me to tell you it was about business of consequence which your lady must be acquainted with. Since you assure me it is not a love letter, I'll take it," said Lucy. And pray, take mine, too," said Tinsel's Mercury, for I assure you it is not a love letter, neither. It's only a be-a-do. Are you sure of that, replied Lucy? Any venture to take it, I fancy, if it's what you say. I'll swear it," said the man delivering it to her. Well," said she, receiving it, I'll take them both up. But what did you call this, pursued she? I must not forget it, or else my lady will think it a love letter. A be-a-do, said the man. Lucy, for fear she should forget, repeated the words be-a-do several times as she went upstairs. But entering her lady's apartment, she, perceiving the letters in her hand, asked her so sternly how she durst presumed to bring them into her presence, that the poor girl in her fright forgot the lessons she had been conning, and endeavouring to recall it into her memory took no notice of her lady's question which she repeated several times, but to no purpose. Arabella, surprised at her inattention, reiterated her commands in a tone somewhat louder than usual, asking her at the same time why she did not obey her immediately. Indeed, madam, replied Lucy, your ladyship would not order me to take back the letters if you knew what they were. They're not love letters. I was resolved to be sure of that before I took them. This, madam, is a letter about business of consequence, and the other—Oh, dear, I can't think what the man called it. But it is not a love letter, indeed, madam. You are a simple winch, said Arabella, smiling. You may depend upon it. All letters directed to me must contain matters of love and gallantry, and those I am not permitted to receive. Take them away then immediately. But stay, pursued she, seeing she was about to obey her. One of them, you say, was delivered to you as a letter of consequence. Perhaps it is so. Indeed, it may contain an advertisement of some design to carry me away. How do I know, but Mr. Selvin, incited by his love and despair, may intend to make such an attempt? Give me that letter, Lucy. I am resolved to open it. As for the other, yet who knows but the other may also bring me warning of the same danger from another quarter. The pains Mr. Tencel took to conceal his passion, nay, almost as I think to deny it, amounts to a proof that he is meditating some way to make sure of me. To certainly so. Give me that letter, Lucy. I should be accessory to their intended violence if I neglected this timely discovery. Well, cried she, taking one of the letters, this is exactly like what happened to the beautiful Princess of Cappadocia, who, like me, in one day, received advice that two of her lovers intended to carry her off. As she pronounced these words Miss Glanville entered the room, to whom Arabella immediately recounted the adventure of the letters, telling her she did not doubt but they contained a discovery of some conspiracy to carry her away. And whom does your lady-ship suspect of such a strange design, pray, said Miss Glanville smiling. At present, replied Arabella, the two Cavaliers who walked with us to-day are the persons who seemed the most likely to attempt that violence. I dare answer for Mr. Tencel, replied Miss Glanville, he thinks of no such thing. Well, said Arabella, to convince you of your mistake I must inform you that Mr. Selvin, having the presumption to begin a declaration of love to me in the parade this morning, I reproved him severely for his want of respect and threatened him with my displeasure. In the rage of his jealousy had seen me treat Mr. Tencel well he discovered to me that he also was as criminal as himself in order to oblige me to a severer usage of him. So he told you Mr. Tencel was in love with you, interrupted Miss Glanville. He told me in other words, replied Arabella, said Mr. Tencel was guilty of that offence which I resented so severely to him. Miss Glanville, beginning to comprehend the mystery with great difficulty, forboh laughing at her cousin's mistake, for she well knew the offence Mr. Selvin hinted at in desirous of knowing what those letters contained she begged her to delay opening them no longer. Arabella, pleased at her solicitude, opened one of the letters but glancing her eye to the bottom and seeing the name of Selvin she threw it hastily upon the table and averting her eyes what a mortification have I avoided, said she, that letter is from Selvin and questionless contains an avowal of his crime. Nay, you must read it, cried Miss Glanville, taking it up. Since you have opened it it's the same thing. You can never persuade him but you have seen it. Madam, I know not what insinuations have been made use of to persuade you I was guilty of the offence which with justice occasioned your resentment this morning. But I assure you nothing was ever more false. My thoughts of your ladyship are very different and full of the profoundest respect and veneration. I have read it. I have read it. I have read it. I have read it. I have read it. I have read it. him, who is with the utmost respect and esteem, madame, your ladyship's most obedient and most humble servant, F. Selvin." "'How's this?' cried Miss Glanville. "'What, madame, you are certainly mistaken. You see Mr. Selvin utterly denies the crime of loving you. He has suffered very innocently, in your opinion. Indeed, your ladyship was too hasty in condemning him.' "'If what he says be true,' replied Arabella, who had been in extreme confusion, while a letter so different from what she expected was reading, I have indeed unjustly condemned him. Nevertheless, I am still inclined to believe this is all artifice, and that he is really guilty of entertaining a passion for me. But why should he take so much pains to deny it, madame?' said Miss Glanville. "'He thinks that looks very odd.'" Not at all interrupted Arabella, whose spirits were raised by recollecting an adventure in her romance similar to this. Mr. Selvin has fallen upon the very same stratagem with ceremonies, who being in love with the beautiful Cleobeline Princess of Corinth took all imaginable pains to conceal his passion in order to be near that fair princess, who would have banished him from her presence had she known he was in love with her. Nay! he went so far in his dissimilation as to pretend love to one of the ladies of her court, so that his passion for the princess might be the less taken notice of. In these cases, therefore, the more resolutely a man denies his passion the more pure and violent it is. "'Then Mr. Selvin's passion is certainly very violent,' replied Miss Glanville, for he denies it very resolutely, and I believe none but your ladyship would have discovered his artifice. But shall we not open the other letter? I have a strong notion it comes from Tinsel. For that very reason I would not be acquainted with the contents,' replied Erebella. "'You see, Mr. Selvin accuses him of being guilty of that offence which he denies. I shall doubtless meet with the confirmation of his love in that letter.' "'Do not, I beseech you,' added she, seeing her cousin preparing to open the letter, expose me to the pain of hearing a presumptuous declaration of love. Nay!' pursued she, rising in great emotion. If you are resolved to persecute me by reading it, I'll endeavour to get out of the hearing of it. "'You shan't, I declare,' said Miss Glanville, laughing and holding her. I'll oblige you to hear it.' "'I vow, cousin,' said Erebella, smiling. You use me just as the Princess Cleopatra did the fair and wise Antonia. However, if by this you mean to do any kindness to the unfortunate person who wrote that billet, you are greatly mistaken. Since if you oblige me to listen to a declaration of his crime, you will lay me under a necessity to banish him. A sentence he would have avoided while I remained ignorant of it.' To this Miss Glanville made no other reply than by opening the billet, the contents of which may be found in the following chapter. End of Book 7, Chapter 12. Book 7, Chapter 13 of the Female Quixote, Volume 2. This is the LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Female Quixote, Volume 2, by Charlotte Lennox. Book 7, Chapter 13. In which our heroine's extravagance will be thought, perhaps, to be carried to an extravagant length. Madam, I had the honour to assure you this morning on the parade that the insinuations Mr. Selvin made use of to rob me of my superlative happiness of your esteem were entirely false and groundless. May the beams of your bright eyes never shine on me more if there is any truth in what he said to prejudice me with your ladyship. If I am permitted to attend you to the rooms this evening, I hope to convince you that it was absolutely impossible I could have been capable of such a crime. Who am, with the most profound respect, your ladyship's most devoted, et cetera? D. Tencel. Well, madam, said Miss Glanville when she had read this epistle, I fancy you need not pronounce a sentence of banishment upon poor Mr. Tencel. He seems to be quite innocent of the offence your ladyship suspects him of. Why, really, returned Arabella blushing with extreme confusion at this second disappointment, I am greatly perplexed to know how I ought to act on this occasion. I am much in the same situation with the Princess Serena, for you must know this Princess here, Lucy entering, informed the lady's dinner was served. I shall defer until another opportunity, said Arabella upon this interruption, the relation of the Princess Serena's lectures, which you will find, added she in a low voice, bears a very great resemblance to mine. Miss Glanville replied she would hear it whenever she pleased, and then followed Arabella to the dining-room. The cloth was scarcely removed when Mr. Selvin came in, Arabella blushed at his appearance, and discovered so much perplexity in her behavior that Mr. Selvin was apprehensive he had not yet sufficiently justified himself, and therefore took the first opportunity to approach her. I shall think myself very unhappy, madam, said he, bowing, if the letter I did myself the honour to write you this morning, sir," interrupted Arabella. I perceive you are going to forget the contents of that letter, and preparing again to offend me by a presumptuous declaration of love. Who? I, madam?" replied he in great astonishment and confusion. I—I protest, though I have very great respect for your ladyship, yet, yet I never presumed to— You have presumed too much, replied Arabella, and I should forget what I owed to my own glory if I furnished you with any more occasions of offending me. Know then I absolutely forbid you to appear before me again at least till I am convinced you have changed your sentiments. Saying this, she rose from her seat, and making a sign to him not to follow her, which indeed he had no intention to do, she quitted the room, highly satisfied with her own conduct upon this occasion, which was exactly conformable to the laws of romance. Mr. Tinsel, who had just alighted from his chair, having a glimpse of her as she passed to her own apartment, resolved, if possible, to procure a private interview, for he did not doubt but his billet had done wonders in his favor. For that purpose he ventured up to her antechamber, where he found Lucy waiting, whom he desired to acquaint her lady, that he entreated a moment's speech with her. Lucy, after hesitating a moment and looking earnestly at him, replied, Sir! If you'll promise me faithfully you are not in love with my lady, I'll go and deliver your message. Deuce, take me, said Tinsel, if that is not a very whimsical condition truly. Pray, my dear, how came it into thy little brain to suspect I was in love with your lady? But suppose I should be in love with her. What then? Why, then it's likely you would die, that's all, said Lucy, without my lady would be so kind to command you to live. I vow thou hast mighty pretty notions, child, said Tinsel, smiling. Hast thou been reading any playbook lately? But pray, dost think thy lady should have compassion on me if I was in love with her? Come! I know thou art in her confidence. Hast thou ever heard her talk of me? Does she not tell thee all her secrets? Here Arabella's bell ringing, the bow slipped half a guinea into her hand, which Lucy, not willing to refuse, went immediately to her lady, to whom, with a trembling accent, she repeated Mr. Tinsel's request. Impudent girl, cried Arabella, for I am loath to suspect thee of disloyalty to thy mistress. Thus thou know the nature and extent of the request thou hast delivered. Art thou ignorant, that the presumptuous man whom thou solicitest this favour for, has mortally offended me? Indeed, madam, said Lucy, frightened out of her wits, I don't solicit for him. I scorn to do any such thing. I would not offend your ladyship for the world. For before I would deliver his message to her ladyship I made him assure me that he was not in love with your ladyship. That was very wisely done indeed, replied Arabella, smiling, and do you believe he spoke the truth? Yes, indeed, I am sure of it, said Lucy eagerly. If your ladyship will but be pleased to see him, he is only in the next room. I dare promise. How? Interrupted Arabella, what have you done? Have you brought him into my apartment, then? I protest this adventure is exactly like what befell the beautiful Statera when by a stratagem of the same kind Oroandates was introduced into her presence. Lucy, thou art another Barsana, I think, but I hope thy intentions are not less innocent than hers was. Indeed, madam, replied Lucy, excessively uneasy at her ladys' words, I am very innocent. I am no Barsana, as your ladyship calls me. I dare answer for thee, said Arabella, smiling, at the turn she gave to her words, thou art no Barsana, and I should wrong thee very much to compare thee with that wise princess, for thou art certainly one of the most simple winches in the world. But, since thou hast gone so far, let me know what the unfortunate person desires of me, for since I am neither more rigid nor pretend to more virtue than Statera. I may do at least as much for him as that great queen did for Oroandates. He desires, madam, said Lucy, that your ladyship would be pleased to let him speak with you. Or, in his words, I suppose, replied Arabella, he humbly implored a moment's audience. I told your ladyship his very words indeed, madam, said Lucy. I tell thee, girl, thou art mistaken, said Arabella. It is impossible he should sue for such a favour in terms like those. Therefore go back and let him know that I consent to grant him a short audience upon these conditions. First, provided he does not abuse my indulgence by offending me with any protest stations of his passion. Secondly, that he engages to fulfil the injunctions I shall lay upon him, however cruel and terrible they may appear. Lastly, that his despair must not prompt him to any act of desperation against himself. Lucy, having received this message, quitted the room hastily for fear she should forget it. Well, my pretty ambassador's said Tensil when he saw her enter the antechamber, will your ladys see me? No, sir, replied Lucy. No, interrupted Tensil, that's kind of faith, after waiting so long. Pray, sir, said Lucy, don't put me out so. I shall forget what my lady ordered me to tell you. Oh, I beg your pardon, child, said Tensil. Come, let me hear your message. Sir, said Lucy, adapting the solemnity of her ladys' accent. My lady bade me say that she will grant, know, that she consents to grant you a short deance. Audience, you would say, child, said Tensil. But how come you to tell me before she would not see me? I vow in protest, sir, said Lucy, you have put all my ladys' words clean out of my head. I don't know what comes next. Oh, no matter, said Tensil, you have told me enough. I'll wait upon her directly. Lucy, who saw him making towards the door, pressed between it and him, and having all her ladys' whims in her head, supposed he was going to carry her away. Possessed with this thought, she screamed out, Help! Help! For heaven's sakes! My lady will be carried away! Arabella, hearing this exclamation of her woman's, echoed her screams, though with a voice infinitely more delicate, and seeing Tensil, who confounded to the last degree at the cries of both the lady and her woman, had gotten to her chamber he knew not how. She gave herself over for lost, and fell back in her chair in a swoon, or something she took for a swoon. For she was persuaded it could happen no otherwise, since all ladys in the same circumstances are terrified into a fainting fit, and seldom recover till they are conveniently carried away, if when they awake, find themselves many miles off in the power of their ravisher. Arabella's other women, alarmed by her cries, came running into the room, and seeing Mr. Tensil there and their lady in a swoon, concluded some very extraordinary accident had happened. What is your business here? cried they all at a time. Is it you that has frighted her ladyship? Devils take me, said Tensil amazed, if I can tell what all this means. By this time Sir Charles, Mr. Glanville and his sister came running astonished upstairs. Arabella still continued motionless in her chair, her eyes closed, and her head reclined upon Lucy who with her other women was endeavouring to recover her. Mr. Glanville eagerly ran to her assistance, while Sir Charles and his daughter as eagerly interrogated Mr. Tensil, who stood motionless with surprise, concerning the cause of her disorder. Arabella, then first discovering some signs of life, half opened her eyes. Inhuman wretch, cried she with a faint voice, supposing herself in the hands of her ravisher, think not thy cruel violence shall procure thee what thy submissions could not obtain. And if, when thou hadst only my indifference to surmount, thou didst find it so difficult to overcome my resolution, now that by this unjust attempt thou hast added aversion to that indifference. Never hope for anything but the most bitter reproaches from me. Why, niece, said Sir Charles, approaching her. What's the matter? Look up, I beseech you. Nobody is attempting to do you any hurt. Here's none but friends about you. Arabella raising her head at the sound of her uncle's voice, and casting a confused look on the persons about her. May I believe my senses? Am I rescued, and in my own chamber? To whose valor is my deliverance owing? Without doubt, to my cousins. But where is he? Let me assure him of my gratitude. Mr. Glanville, who had retired to a window in a great confusion, as soon as he heard her call for him, came towards her, and in a whisper begged her to be composed, that she was in no danger. And pray, niece, said Sir Charles. Now you are a little recovered. Be so good to inform us of the cause of your fright. What has happened to occasion all this confusion? How, sir, said Arabella, don't you know then what has happened? Pray, how was I brought again into my chamber, and by what means was I rescued? I protest, said Sir Charles. I don't know that you have been out of it. Alas, replied Arabella, I perceive you are quite ignorant of what has befallen me, nor am I able to give you any information. All I can tell you is, that alarmed by my women's cries, in the sight of my ravisher, who came into my chamber, I fainted away, and so facilitated his enterprise. Since doubtless it was very easy for him to carry me away while I remained in that senseless condition. Now I was rescued, or by whom, one of my women can happily inform you. Since it's possible one of them was also forced away with me. Oh, heavens! cried she, seeing Tensil, who all this while stood gazing like one distracted. What makes that impious man in my presence? What am I to think of this? Am I really delivered, or no? What can this mean? cried Sir Charles, turning to Tensil. Have you, sir, had any hand in frighting my niece? I, sir, said Tensil, let me perish if ever I was so confounded in my life. The lady's brain is disordered, I believe. Mr. Glanville, who was convinced all this confusion was caused by some of Arabella's usual whims, dreaded, less than explanation would the more expose her, and therefore told his father that it would be best to retire, and leave his cousin to the care of his sister and her women, adding that she was not yet quite recovered, and their presence did but discompose her. Then addressing himself to Tensil told him he would wait upon him downstairs. Arabella seeing them going away together, and supposing they intended to dispute the possession of her with their swords, called out to them to stay. Mr. Glanville, however, without minding her, pressed Mr. Tensil to walk down. Nay, pray, sir, said the beau, let us go in again. She may grow outrageous if we disoblige her. Outrageous, sir, said Glanville. Do you suppose my cousin is mad? Upon my soul, sir, replied Tensil. If she is not mad, she is certainly a little out of her senses, or so. Arabella, having reiterated her commands for her lovers to return, and finding they did not obey her, ran to her chamber door where they were holding a surly sort of conference, especially on Glanville's side, who was horribly out of humor. I perceive by your looks, said Arabella to her cousin, the design you are meditating, but know that I absolutely forbid you by all the power I have over you, not to engage in combat with my ravisher here. Madam interrupted Glanville, I beseech you, do not, I know, said she. You will object to me, the examples of Artamenes, Aranses, and many others, who were so generous as to promise their rivals not to refuse them that satisfaction whenever they demanded it. But consider, you have not the same objections to Mr. Tensil, that Artamenes had to the King of Assyria, or that Aranses had to, for God's sake, cousin, said Glanville, what's all this to the purpose? Curse on Aranses and the King of Assyria, I say. The astonishment of Arabella at this intemperate speech of her cousin kept her for a moment immovable. When Sir Charles, who during this discourse, had been collecting all the information he could from Lucy concerning the perplexed affair, came towards Tensil, and giving him an angry look, told him, he should take it well, if he forebore visiting any of his family for the future. Oh, your most obedient servant, sir, said Tensil. You expect, I suppose, I should be excessively chagrined at this prohibition? But upon my soul, I am greatly obliged to you. A gad! I have not great mind to a halter. And since this lady is so apt to think people have a design to ravish her, the wisest thing a man can do is keep out of her way. Sir, replied Glanville, who had followed him to the door. I believe there has been some little mistake in what has happened to-day. However, I expect you'll take no unbecoming liberties with the character of Lady Bella. Oh, sir, said Tensil, I give you my honour. I shall always speak of the lady with the utmost profound veneration. She is a most accomplished, incomprehensible lady. And the devil take me, if I think there is her fellow in the world. And so, sir, I am your most obedient. A word before you go, said Glanville, stopping him. No more of these sneers, as you value that smooth face of yours, or I'll despoil it of a nose. Oh, your humble servant, said the beau, retiring in great confusion, with something betwixt a smile and a grin upon his countenance, which he took care, however, Mr. Glanville should not see. Who, as soon as he quitted him, went again to Arabella's apartment, in order to prevail upon his father and sister to leave her a little to herself, for he dreaded, lest some more instance of her extravagance would put it into his father's head, that she was really out of her senses. Well, sir, said Arabella upon his entrance. You have, I suppose, given your rival his liberty. I assure you this generosity is highly agreeable to me. But herein you imitate the noble Arteminis, who upon a like occasion acted as you have done. For when Fortune had put the ravisher of Mandana in his power, and he became the vanquisher of his rival, who endeavored by violence to possess that divine princess, this truly generous hero relinquished the right he had of disposing of his prisoner, and instead of sacrificing his life to his just and reasonable vengeance, he gave proof of his admirable virtue and clemency by dismissing him in safety as you have done. However, added she, I hope you have made him swear upon your sword that he will never make a second attempt upon my liberty. I perceive, pursued she, seen Mr. Glanville continued silent, with his eyes bent on the ground, for indeed he was ashamed to look up that you would willingly avoid the praise due to the heroic action you have just performed. Nay, I suppose you are resolved to keep it secret, if possible. Yet, I must tell you, that you will not escape the glory due to it. Glory is as necessary the result of a virtuous action as light is an effect of the sun, which causeth it, and has no dependence on any other cause, since a virtuous action continues still the same, though it be done without testimony, and glory, which is, as one may say, born with it, constantly attends it, though the action be not known. I protest, niece, said Sir Charles, that's very prettily said. In my opinion, sir, pursued Arabella, if any thing can weaken the glory of a good action, it's the care a person takes to make it known, as if one did not do good for the sake of good, but for the praise that generally follows it. Those then, that are governed by so interested a motive, ought to be considered as sordid, rather than generous persons, who making a kind of traffic between virtue and glory, barter just so much of the one for the other, and expect, like other merchants, to take advantage by the exchange. Mr. Glanville, who was charmed into an ecstasy at the sensible speech of Arabella's, forgot in an instant all her absurdities. He did not fail to express his admiration of her understanding, in terms that brought a blush into her fair face, and obliged her to lay her commands upon him to cease his excessive commendations. Then making a sign to them to leave her alone, Mr. Glanville, who understood her, took his father and sister downstairs, leaving Arabella with her faithful Lucy, whom she immediately commanded, to give her a relation of what had happened to her from the time of her swooning till she recovered. CHAPTER XIII A dialogue between Arabella and Lucy, in which the latter seems to have the advantage. Why, madam, said Lucy, all I can tell your ladyship is, that we were all excessively frightened to be sure when you fainted, especially myself, and that we did what we could to recover you, and so accordingly your ladyship did recover. What's this to the purpose, said Arabella, perceiving she stopped here? I know that I fainted, and is also very plain that I recovered again. I ask you what happened to me in the intermediate time between my fainting and recovery. Give me a faithful relation of all the accidents, to which by my fainting I am quite a stranger, and which no doubt are very considerable. Indeed, madam, replied Lucy, I have given your ladyship a faithful relation of all I can remember. When? resumed Arabella, surprised. This moment, madam, said Lucy. Why, sure, thou dreamst wench, replied she. Hast thou told me how I was seized and carried off, how I was rescued again, and—no, indeed, madam, interrupted Lucy, I don't dream, I never told your ladyship that you was carried off. Well, said Arabella, and why dost thou not satisfy my curiosity? Is it not fit I should be acquainted with such a momentous part of my history? I can't, indeed, and please your ladyship, said Lucy. Why can't thou not, said Arabella, enraged at her stupidity, as she thought it? Why, madam, said Lucy sobbing, I can't make a history of nothing. Of nothing, wench! resumed Arabella, in a greater rage than before. Dost thou call an adventure to which thou was a witness, and borst so happily so great a share in—nothing?—an adventure which hereafter will make a considerable figure in the relation of my life, dost thou look upon as trifling and of no consequence? No, indeed I don't, madam, said Lucy. Why, then, pursued Arabella, dost thou willfully neglect to relate it? Suppose, as there is nothing more likely, thou work commended by some persons of considerable quality, or, happily, some great princes and princesses to recount the adventure of my life? Wouldst thou omit a circumstance of so much moment? No, indeed, madam, said Lucy. I am glad to hear thou art so discreet, said Arabella, and pray, do me the favor to relate this adventure to me, as thou wouldst do to those princes and princesses, if thou work commended. Here Arabella, making a full stop, fixed her eyes upon her woman, expecting every moment she would begin the desired narrative. But finding she continued silent longer than she thought was necessary for recalling the several circumstances of the story into her mind, I find, said she, it will be necessary to caution you against making your audience wait too long for your relation. It looks as if you was to make a studied speech, not a simple relation of facts, which ought to be free from all affectation of labor and art, and be told, with that graceful negligence which is so becoming, to truth. This, I thought proper to tell you, added she, that you may not fall into that mistake when you are called upon to relate my adventures. Well now, if you please, to begin. What, pray, madam, said Lucy. What, repeated Arabella, why the adventures which happened to me so lately relate to me every circumstance of my being carried away, and how my deliverance was affected by my cousin. Indeed, madam, said Lucy, I know nothing about your ladies' ships being carried away. All I know is, be gone, cried Arabella, losing all patience at her obstinacy. Get out of my presence this moment. Rich, unworthy of my confidence in favour, thy treason is too manifest. Thou art bribed by that presumptuous man to conceal all the circumstances of his attempt from my knowledge, to the end that I may not have a full conviction of his guilt. Lucy, who never saw her lady so much offended before, and knew not the occasion of it, burst into tears, which so affected the tender heart of Arabella, that losing insensibly all her anger, she told her, with a voice softened to a tone of the utmost sweetness and condescension that provided she would confess how far she had been prevailed upon by his rich presence to forget her duty, she would pardon and receive her again into favour. Speak, added she, and be not afraid, after this promise, to let me know what Mr. Tensel required of thee, and what were the gifts with which he purchased thy services. Doubtless he presented thee with jewels of a great considerable value. Since your ladies' ship, said Lucy Sobbing, has promised not to be angry, I don't care if I do tell your ladies' ship what he gave me. He gave me this half-guinea, madam, indeed he did. But for all that, when he would come into your chamber, I struggled with him, and cried out, for fear he should carry your ladies' ship away. Arabella lost in astonishment and shame, at hearing of so inconsiderable a present made to her woman, the like of which not one of her romances could furnish her, ordered her immediately to withdraw, not being willing she should observe the confusion the strange bribe had given her. After she had been gone some time, she endeavored to compose her looks, and went down to the dining-room. Where Sir Charles, and his son and daughter, had been engaged in a conversation concerning her, the particulars of which may be found in the first chapter of the next book. CHAPTER XI. Once the conversation referred to in the last chapter of the preceding book. Miss Glanville, who with a malicious pleasure had secretly triumphed in the extravagances her beautiful cousin had been guilty of, was now sensibly disappointed to find they had had so little effect on her father and brother. For instead of reflecting upon the absurdities to which they had been a witness, Mr. Glanville artfully pursued the subject Arabella just before had been expatiating upon, taking notice frequently of some observations of hers, and, by a well-contrived repetition of her words, obliged his father a second time to declare that his niece had spoken extremely well. Mr. Glanville, taking the word, launched out into such praises of her wit, that Miss Glanville no longer able to listen patiently replied, "'Twas true, Lady Bella sometimes said very sensible things. That was a great pity she was not always in a reasonable way of thinking, or that her intervals were not longer. Her intervals, Miss,' said Glanville, "'Pray what do you mean by that expression?' "'Why, pray,' said Miss Glanville, "'don't you think my cousin is sometimes a little wrong in the head?' Mr. Glanville, at these words starting from his chair, took a turn across the room in great discomposure, then stopping all of a sudden and giving his sister a furious look. Charlotte, said he, "'Don't give me cause to think you're envious of your cousin's superior excellencies.' "'Envious,' repeated Miss Glanville, "'I, envious of my cousin, I vow I should never have thought of that. Indeed, brother, you are much mistaken. My cousin's superior excellencies never gave me a moment's disturbance, though I must confess her unaccountable whims have often excited my pity. No more of this, Charlotte,' interrupted Mr. Glanville, "'as you value my friendship, no more of it.' "'Why, really, son,' said Sir Charles, "'my niece has very strange whimsies sometimes. How it came into her head to think Mr. Tinsel would attempt to carry her away, I can't imagine. For, after all, he only pressed rather too rudely into her chamber, for which, as you see, I have forbidden his visits.' "'That was of a peace,' said Miss Glanville, sneeringly to her brother, "'with her asking you if you had made Mr. Tinsel swear upon your sword that he would never again attempt to carry her away, and applauding you for having given him his liberty as the generous Attermans did on the same occasion. "'I would advise you, Charlotte,' said Mr. Glanville, "'not to aim at repeating your cousin's words till you know how to pronounce them properly.' "'Oh, that's one of her superior excellencies,' said Miss Glanville. "'Indeed, Miss,' said Glanville, very provokingly, "'she is superior to you in many things, and as much so in the goodness of her heart as in the beauty of her person.' "'Come, come, Charles,' said the baronet, who observed his daughter sat swelling and biting her lip at this reproach. Personal reflections are better avoided. Your sister is very well and not to be disparaged, though, to be sure, Lady Bella is the finest woman I ever saw in my life.' Miss Glanville was, if possible, more disgusted at her father's paliation than her brother's reproaches, and in order to give a loose to her passion accused Mr. Glanville of a decrease in his affection for her since he had been in love with her cousin, and having found this excuse for her tears very freely gave vent to them. Mr. Glanville, being softened by this sight, sacrificed a few compliments to her vanity, which soon restored her to her usual tranquility. Then, turning the discourse on his beloved Arabella, pronounced a panagyric on her virtues and accomplishments of an hour long, which, if it did not absolutely persuade his sister to change her opinion, it certainly convinced his father that his niece was not only perfectly well in her understanding, but even better than most others of her sex. Mr. Glanville had just finished her eulogium when Arabella appeared. Joy danced in his eyes at her approach. He gazed upon her with a kind of conscious triumph in his looks, her consummate loveliness justifying his passion, and, being in his opinion, more than an excuse for all her extravagancies. CHAPTER II. In which our heroine, as we presume, shows herself in two very different lights. Arabella, who at her entrance had perceived some traces of uneasiness upon Miss Glanville's countenance, tenderly asked her the cause, to which that young lady answering in a cold and reserved manner Mr. Glanville, to divert her reflections on it, very freely accused himself of having given his sister some offence. To be sure, brother, said Miss Glanville, you are very vehement in your temper, and are as violently carried away about things of little importance as of the greatest, and then whatever you have a fancy for you love so obstinately. I am obliged to you, Miss, interrupted Mr. Glanville, for endeavouring to give Lady Bella so unfavourable an opinion of me. I assure you, said Arabella, Miss Glanville has said nothing to your disadvantage, for in my opinion the temperament of great minds ought to be such as she represents yours to be. For there is nothing at so great a distance from true and heroic virtue as that indifference which obliges some people to be pleased with all things or nothing. Whence it comes to pass that they neither entertain great desires of glory nor fear of infamy, that they neither love nor hate, that they are wholly influenced by custom and are sensible only to the afflictions of the body, and their minds being in a manner insensible. To say the truth, I am inclined to conceive a greater hope of a man who in the beginning of his life is hurried away by some evil habit than one that fastens on nothing. The mind that cannot be brought to detest vice will never be persuaded to love virtue. But one who is capable of loving or hating irreconcilably by having when young his passions directed to proper objects will remain fixed in his choice of what is good. But with him who is incapable of any violent attraction and whose heart is chilled by a general indifference, precept or example will have no force, and philosophy itself which boasts it hath remedies for all indispositions of the soul never had any that can cure an indifferent mind. Nay, attitude, I am persuaded that indifference is generally the inseparable companion of a weak and imperfect judgment. For it is so natural to a person to be carried towards that which he believes to be good that if indifferent people were able to judge of things they would fasten on something. But certain it is that this lukewarmness of soul which sends forth but feeble desires sends also but feeble lights, so that those who are guilty of it, not knowing anything clearly, cannot fasten on anything with perseverance. Mr. Glanville, when Arabella had finished this speech, cast a triumphant glance at his sister who had affected great inattention all the while she had been speaking. Sir Charles, in his way, expressed much admiration of her wit, telling her if she had been a man she would have made a great figure in Parliament and that her speeches might have come perhaps to be printed in time. This compliment, odd as it was, gave great joy to Glanville. When the conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Mr. Selvin who had slipped away and observed at the time that Arabella's indisposition had alarmed them, and now came to inquire after her health, and also, if an opportunity offered, to set her right with regard to the suspicions she had entertained of his designing to pay his addresses to her. Arabella, as soon as he had sent in his name, appeared to be in great disturbance and upon his entrance offered immediately to withdraw, telling Mr. Glanville who would have detained her that she found no place was likely to secure her from the persecutions of that gentleman. Glanville stared and looked strangely perplexed at this speech. Miss Glanville smiled and poor Selvin with a very silly look hemmed two or three times and then with a faltering accent said, Madam, I am very much concerned to find your ladyship resolved to persist in. Sir, interrupted Arabella, my resolutions are unalterable. I told you so before and am surprised after the knowledge of my intentions you presumed to appear in my presence again from whence I had so positively banished you. Praying, East said Sir Charles, what has Mr. Selvin done to disablige you? Sir, replied Arabella, Mr. Selvin's offence can admit of no other reparation than that which I required of him which was a voluntary banishment from my presence and in this pursued she, I am guilty of no more severity to you than the Princess Eudosia was to the unfortunate Thrasimides. For the passion of this prince having come to her knowledge, notwithstanding the pains he took to conceal it, this fair and wise princess thought it not enough to forbid his speaking to her but also banished him from her presence, laying a peremptory command upon him never to appear before her again until he was perfectly cured of that unhappy love he had entertained for her. Imitate therefore the meritorious obedience of this poor prince and if that passion you profess for me. How, sir, interrupted Sir Charles, do you make love to my niece, then? Sir, replied Mr. Selvin, who was strangely confounded at Arabella's speech. Though I really admire the perfections this lady is possessive, yet I assure you, upon my honour, I never had a thought of making any addresses to her and I can't imagine why her ladyship persists in accusing me of such presumption. So formal a denial after what Arabella had said, extremely perplexed, Sir Charles, and filled Mr. Glanville with inconceivable shame. Miss Glanville enjoyed their disturbance, and full of an ill-natured triumph endeavoured to look Arabella into confusion. But that lady, not being at all discomposed by this declaration of Mr. Selvin's, having accounted for it already, replied with great calmness, Sir, it is easy to see through the artifice of your disclaiming any passion for me. Upon any other occasion, questionless, you would rather sacrifice your life than consent to disavow these sentiments, which unhappily for your peace you have entertained. At present the desire of continuing near me obliges you to lay this constraint upon yourself. However, you know Thrasomedes fell upon the same stratagem to no purpose. The rigid eudosia saw through the disguise and would not dispense with herself from banishing him from Rome, as I do you from England. How, Madam! interrupted Selvin, amazed. Yes, Sir! replied Arabella hastily. Nothing less can satisfy what I owe to the consideration of my own glory. Upon my word, Madam! said Selvin, half angry and yet strongly inclined to laugh, I don't see the necessity of my quitting my native country to satisfy what you owe to the consideration of your own glory. Pray, how does my staying in England affect your ladyship's glory? To answer your question with another, said Arabella, pray, how did the stay of Thrasomedes in Rome affect the glory of the Empress Eudosia? Mr. Selvin was struck dumb with this speech, for he was not willing to be thought so deficient in the knowledge of history as not to be acquainted with the reasons why Thrasomedes should not stay in Rome. His silence therefore seeming to Arabella to be a tacit confession of the justice of her commands, a sentiment of compassion for this unfortunate lover intruded itself into her mind, and turning her bright eyes full of soft complacency upon Selvin, who stared at her as if he had lost his wits. I will not, said she, wrong the sublimity of your passion for me so much as to doubt you're being ready to sacrifice the repose of your own life to the satisfaction of mine. Nor will I do so much injustice to your generosity as to suppose the glory of obeying my commands will not in some measure soften the rigor of your destiny. I know not whether it may be lawful for me to tell you that your misfortune does really cause me some affliction, but I am willing to give you this consolation and also to assure you that to whatever part of the world your despair will carry you, the good wishes and compassion of Arabella shall follow you. Having said this, with one of her fair hands she covered her face to hide the blushes which so compassionate a speech had caused, holding the other extended with a careless air, supposing he would kneel to kiss it and bathe it with his tears, as was the custom on such melancholy occasions. Her head at the same time turned another way as if reluctantly and with confusion she granted this favor. But after standing a moment in this posture and finding her hand untouched she concluded grief had deprived him of his senses and that he would shortly fall into a swoon as Thrasomedes did. And to prevent being a witness to so doleful a sight she hurried out of the room without once turning about and having reached her own apartment sunk into a chair not a little affected by the deplorable condition in which she had left her supposed miserable lover. End of Book Eight, Chapter Two. Book Eight, Chapter Three of the Female Quixote, Volume Two. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. The Female Quixote, Volume Two by Charlotte Lennox. Book Eight, Chapter Three. The contrast continued. The company she had left behind her being all except Mr. Glanville to the last degree surprised at her strange words and actions continued mute for several minutes after she was gone staring upon one another as if each wished to know the other's opinion of such an unaccountable behavior. At last Miss Glanville, who observed her brother's back was towards her, told Mr. Selvin in a low voice that she hoped he would call and take his leave of them before he set out for the place where his despair would carry him. Mr. Selvin, in spite of his natural gravity, could not forbear laughing at this speech of Miss Glanville's, which shocked her brother, and not being able to stay where Arabella was ridiculed, nor entitled to resent it, which would have been a manifest injustice on that occasion, he retired to his own apartment to give vent to that spleen which in those moments made him out of humor with all the world. Sir Charles, when he was gone, indulged himself in a little mirth on his niece's extravagance, protesting he did not know what to do with her, upon which Miss Glanville observed that it was a pity there were not such things as Protestant nunneries, giving it as her opinion that her cousin ought to be confined in one of those places and never suffered to see any company, by which means she would avoid exposing herself in the manner she did now. Mr. Selvin, who possibly thought this a reasonable scheme of Miss Glanville's, seemed by his silence to assent to her opinion. But Sir Charles was greatly displeased with his daughter for expressing herself so freely, alleging that Arabella, when she was out of those whims, was a very sensible young lady and sometimes talked as learnedly as a divine, to which Mr. Selvin also added that she had a great knowledge of history and had a most surprising memory, and, after some more discourse to the same purpose, he took his leave, earnestly intriguing Sir Charles to believe that he never entertained any design of making his addresses to Lady Bella. In the meantime, that lady, after having given near half an hour to those reflections which occurred to heroines in the same situation with herself, called for Lucy and ordered her to go to the dining room and see in what condition Mr. Selvin was, telling her she had certainly left him in a swoon and also the occasion of it, and bid her give him all the consolation in her power. Lucy, with tears in her eyes at this recital, went down as she was ordered, and entering the room without any ceremony, her thoughts being wholly fixed on the melancholy circumstance her lady had been telling her, she looked eagerly round the room without speaking a word, till Sir Charles and Miss Glanville, who thought she had been sent with some message from Arabella, asked her both at the same instant what she wanted. I came, Sir, said Lucy, repeating her lady's words, to see in what condition Mr. Selvin is in and to give him all the solation in my power. Sir Charles, laughing heartily at this speech, asked her what she could do for Mr. Selvin, to which she replied she did not know, but her lady had told her to give him all the solation in her power. Consolation thou wouldest say, I suppose, said Sir Charles. Yes, Sir, said Lucy, curtsying. Well, child, added he, go up and tell your lady, Mr. Selvin does not need any consolation. Lucy accordingly returned with this message and was met at the chamber door by Arabella, who hastily asked her if Mr. Selvin was recovered from his swoon, to which Lucy replied that she did not know, but that Sir Charles bid her tell her ladyship Mr. Selvin did not need any consolation. Oh, heavens, cried Arabella, throwing herself into a chair as pale as death. He is dead. He has fallen upon his sword and put an end to his life and miseries at once. Oh, how unhappy am I, cried she, bursting into tears. To be the cause of so cruel an accident was ever any fate so terrible as mine, was ever beauty so fatal, was ever rigor so unfortunate. How will the quiet of my future days be disturbed by the sad remembrance of a man whose death was caused by my disdain? But why, resumed she after a little pause, why do I thus afflict myself for what has happened by an unavoidable necessity? Nor am I singular in the misfortune which has befallen me. Did not the sad parenthus die for the beautiful panthea? Did not the rigor of Barsina bring the miserable oxiatries to the grave, and the severity of Statira make Aura Andates fall upon his sword in her presence, though happily he escaped being killed by it? Let us then not afflict ourselves unreasonably at this sad accident. Let us lament as we ought the fatal effects of our charms. But let us comfort ourselves with the thought that we have only acted conformable to our duty. Arabella, having pronounced these last words with a solemn and lofty accent, ordered Lucy, who listened to her with eyes drowned in tears, to go down and ask if the body was removed. For, Adachi, all my constancy will not be sufficient to support me against that pitiful sight. Lucy, accordingly, delivered her message to Sir Charles and Miss Glanville, who were still together, discoursing on the fantastical turn of Arabella, when the knight who could not possibly comprehend what she meant by asking if the body was removed, bid her tell her lady he desired to speak to her. Arabella, upon receiving this summons, set herself to consider what could be the intent of it. If Mr. Selvin be dead, said she, what good can my presence do among them? Surely it cannot be to up braid me with my severity that my uncle desires to see me. No, it would be unjust to suppose it. Questionless, my unhappy lover is still struggling with the pangs of death, and for a consolation in his last moments implores the favour of resigning up his life in my sight. Pausing a little at these words, she rose from her seat with a resolution to give the unhappy Selvin her pardon before he died. Meeting Mr. Glanville as he was returning from his chamber to the dining-room, she told him she hoped the charity she was going to discover towards his rival would not give him any uneasiness, and preventing his reply by going hastily into the room, he followed her dreading some new extravagance, yet not able to prevent it, endeavored to conceal his confusion from her observation. Arabella, after breathing a gentle sigh, told Sir Charles that she was come to grant Mr. Selvin her pardon for the offence he had been guilty of, that he might depart in peace. Well, well, said Sir Charles, he is departed in peace without it. How, sir, interrupted Arabella, is he dead then already? Alas, why had he not the satisfaction of seeing me before he expired that his soul might have departed in peace? He would have been assured not only of my pardon, but pity also, and that assurance would have made him happy in his last moments. Why, niece, interrupted Sir Charles staring, you surprise me prodigiously. Are you an earnest? Questionless I am, sir, said she, nor ought you to be surprised at the concern I express for the fate of this unhappy man, nor at the pardon I propose to have granted him. Since herein I am justified by the example of many great and virtuous princesses who have done as much, nay, happily more than I intended to have done, for persons whose offenses were greater than Mr. Selvin's. I am very sorry, madam, said Sir Charles, to hear you talk in this manner. It is really enough to make one suspect you are. You do me great injustice, sir, interrupted Arabella. If you suspect me to be guilty of any unbecoming weakness for this man, if, barely expressing my compassion for his misfortunes be esteemed so great a favour, what would you have thought if I had supported his head on my knees while he was dying, shed tears over him, and discovered all the tokens of a sincere affliction for him? Good God, said Sir Charles, listing up his eyes. Did anybody ever hear of anything like this? What, sir, said Arabella, with as great an appearance of surprise in her countenance as his had discovered? Do you say you have never heard of anything like this? Then you never heard of the princess of Medea, I suppose. No, not I, madam, said Sir Charles, peevishly. Then, sir, resumed Arabella, permit me to tell you that this fair and virtuous princess condescended to do all I have mentioned for the fierce Labinet, Prince of Assyria, who though he had mortally offended her by stealing her away out of the court of the king, her father, nevertheless, when he was wounded to death in her presence and humbly implored her pardon before he died, she condescended, as I have said, to support him on her knees and shed tears for his disaster. I could produce many more instances of the like compassion in ladies almost as highly born as herself, though perhaps their quality was not quite so illustrious, she being the heiress of two powerful kingdoms, yet to mention only these. Good heavens, cried Mr. Glanville here, being quite out of patience, I shall go distracted. Arabella, surprised at this exclamation, looked earnestly at him for a moment, and then asked him whether anything she had said had given him uneasiness. Yes, upon my soul, madam, said Glanville, so vexed and confused that he hardly knew what he said. I am sorry for it, replied Arabella gravely, and also am greatly concerned to find that in generosity you are so much exceeded by the illustrious Cyrus, who was so far from taking umbridge at Mandana's behaviour to the dying prince that he commended her for the compassion she had shown him. So also did the brave and generous Aura Andatis, when the fair Statira, by heavens, cried Glanville, rising in a passion, there is no hearing this. Pardon me, madam, but upon my soul, you'll make me hang myself. Hang yourself, repeated Arabella. Sure, you know not what you say. You meant, I suppose, that you'll fall upon your sword. What hero ever threatened to give himself so vulgar a death? But pray, let me know the cause of your despair, so sudden and so violent. Mr. Glanville continuing in a sort of sullen silence, Arabella raising her voice went on. Though I do not conceive myself obliged to give you an account of my conduct, seeing that I have only permitted you to yet hope for my favour, yet I owe to myself and my own honour the justification I am going to make. Know then that however suspicious my compassion for Mr. Selvin may appear to your mistake in judgment, yet it has its foundation only in the generosity of my disposition, which inclines me to pardon the fault when the unhappy criminal repents, and to afford him my pity when his circumstances require it. Let not, therefore, the charity I have discovered towards your rival be the cause of your despair, since my sentiments for him were he living would be what they were before, that is, full of indifference, nay, happily disdain, and suffer not yourself to be so carried away by a violent and unjust jealousy as to threaten your own death, which if you really had any ground for your suspicions, and truly loved me, would come unsought for, though not undesired. For indeed was your despair reasonable, death would necessarily follow it. For what lover can live under so desperate a misfortune? In that case you may meet death undauntedly when it comes, nay, embrace it with joy. But truly the killing oneself is but a false picture of true courage, proceeding rather from fear of a further evil than contempt of that you fly to. For if it were a contempt of pain, the same principle would make you resolve to bear patiently and fearlessly all kind of pains, and hope being of all other the most contrary thing to fear, this being an utter banishment of hope seems to have its ground in fear. End of book 8, chapter 3. Record.