 Book 1, Chapter 13 of the Female Quixote, Volume 1. 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 1 by Charlotte Lennox. Book 1, Chapter 13. The Adventure of the Books Continued. In this temper, he went to the gardens to pass over the chagrin this unfortunate accident had given him, when meeting the Marquis, who insisted upon knowing the cause of that ill humor, so visible in his countenance. Glanville related all that had passed, but in spite of his anger, it was impossible for him to repeat the circumstances of his disgrace without laughing, as well as the Marquis, who thought the story so extremely diverting that he would need to hear it over again. However, Charles said he, Though I shall do what I can to gain your pardon from Bella, yet I shall not scruple to own you acted extremely wrong, in not reading what she desired you. For, besides losing an opportunity of obliging her, you drew yourself into a terrible dilemma. For how was it possible for you to evade a discovery of the cheat you put upon her, when she began to talk with you upon those passages she had desired you read? I acknowledge my error, my lord, answered Glanville, but if you restore me to my cousin's favor again, I promise you to repair it by a different behavior for the future. I'll see what I can do for you, said the Marquis, leaving him to go to Arabella's apartment, who had retired to her closet, extremely afflicted at this new insult she had received from her cousin. Her grief was the more poignant, as she was beginning to imagine, by the alteration in his behavior, that he would prove such a lover as she wished. For Mr. Glanville's person and qualifications had attracted her particular notice, and to speak in the language of romance she did not hate him, but, on the contrary, was very much disposed to wish him well. Therefore, it was no wonder she extremely resented the affront she had received from him. The Marquis, not finding her in her chamber, proceeded to her closet, where her women informed him she was retired, and knocking gently at the door was admitted by Arabella, whom he immediately discerned to have been weeping very much, for her fine eyes were red and swelled, and the traces of her tears might still be observed on her fair face, which, at the sight of the Marquis, was overspread with a blush, as if she was conscious of her weakness in lamenting the crime her cousin had been guilty of. The Marquis drew a favorable omen for his nephew from her tears in confusion, but not willing to increase it by acknowledging he had observed it. He told her he was come, at Mr. Glanville's request, to make up the quarrel between them. Ah, my lord, interrupted Arabella, speak no more to me of that unworthy man who has so grossly abused my favor, and the privilege I allowed him. His baseness and ingratitude are but too manifest, and there is nothing I so much regret as my weakness in restoring him to part of my good opinion after he had once forfeited it by an instance not to be paralleled. Indeed, Bella, said the Marquis, smiling, you resent too deeply these slight matters. I can't think my nephew so guilty as you would have me believe he is, and you ought neither to be angry or surprised that he preferred your conversation before reading in a foolish old-fashioned book that you put in his hands. If your lordship had ever read these books, replied Arabella, reddening with vexation, to his probable you would have another opinion of them. But, however, that may be, my cousin is not to be excused for the contempt he showed to my commands, and for daring, by the cheat he put on me, to expose me to the shame of seeing myself so ridiculously imposed upon. However, you must forgive him, said the Marquis, and I insist upon it before I quit your apartment that you receive him into favor. Pardon me, my lord, replied Arabella, this is what I neither can nor ought to do, and I hope you will not wrong me so much as to continue to desire it. Nay, Bella, said he, this is carrying things too far and making trifling disputes of two great consequence. I am surprised at your treatment of a man whom, after all, if ever you intend to obey me, you must consent to marry. There is no question, my lord, replied she, but it would be my glory to obey you in whatever is possible. But this you command me now to do, not being so, I conceive you will rather impute my refusal to necessity than choice. How, returned the Marquis, will you endeavor to persuade me that it is not possible Mr. Glanville shall be your husband? It is impossible he should be so with my consent, resumed Arabella, and I cannot give it without wounding my own quiet in a most sensible manner. Come, come, Bella, said the Marquis, fretting at her extreme obstinacy. This is too much. I am to blame to indulge your foibles in this manner. Your cousin is worthy of your affection, and you cannot refuse it to him without incurring my displeasure. Since my affection is not in my own power to be stoves, said Arabella, weeping, I know not how to remove your displeasure, but, questionless, I know how to die to avoid the effects of what would be to me the most terrible misfortune in the world. Foolish girl, interrupted the Marquis, how strangely do you talk? Are the thoughts of death become so familiar to you that you speak of dying with so little concern? Since, my lord, resumed she in an exalted tone, I do not yield either in virtue or courage to many others of my sex, who, when persecuted like me, have fled to death for a relief. I know not why I should be thought less capable of it than they. And if Artemisa, Candice, and the beautiful daughter of Cleopatra could brave the terrors of death for the sake of the men they loved, there is no question but I also could imitate their courage to avoid the man I have so much reason to hate. Girl is certainly distracted, interrupted the Marquis, excessively enraged at the strange speech she had uttered. These foolish books my nephew talks of have turned her brain. Where are they? pursued he, going into her chamber. I'll burn all I can lay my hands upon. Erebella, trembling for the fate of her books, followed her father into the room, who, seeing the books which had caused this woeful adventure lying upon the table, he ordered one of her women to carry them into his apartment, bowing he would commit them all to flames. Erebella not daring, in the fury he was in, to interpose. He went out of the room, leaving her to bewail the fate of so many illustrious heroes and heroines, who, by an effect of a more cruel tyranny than any they had ever experienced before, were going to be cast into the merciless flames, which would, doubtless, pay very little regard to the divine beauties of the admirable Clelia, or the heroic valour of the brave Orontes, and the rest of those great princes and princesses whose actions Erebella proposed for the model of hers. Fortune, however, which never wholly forsook these illustrious personages, rescued them from so unworthy of fate, and brought Mr. Glanville into the Marquis chamber, just as he was giving orders to have them destroyed. The Marquis, as soon as he saw Mr. Glanville, told him he was resolved to cure Erebella of her whims by burning the books that had put them into her head. I have seized upon some of them, pursued he, smiling, and you may, if you please, wreak your spite upon these authors of your disgrace by burning them yourself. Though I have all the reason in the world to be enraged with that incendiaries to Tyra, said Glanville, laughing, for the mischief she has done me, yet I cannot consent to put such an affront upon my cousin as to burn her favorite books. And now I think of it, my lord, pursued he. I'll endeavor to make a merit with Lady Bella by saving them, therefore spare them at my request, and let me carry them to her. I shall be quite unhappy till we are friends again. You may do as you will, said the Marquis, but I think in encouraging her and her follies to give them to her again. Glanville, without replying, eagerly took up the books, for fear that Marquis should change his mind, and, highly delighted with the opportunity he had got of making his peace with Lady Bella, ran to her apartment, loaded with these kind intercessors, and making his way by Lucy, who would have opposed him, penetrated even into the closet of the melancholy fair one, who was making bitter reflections on the cruelty of her destiny, and bewelling her loss with a deluge of tears. As ridiculous as the occasion of these tears was, yet Glanville could not behold them without being affected. Assuming, therefore, accountants as sad as he was able, he laid the books before her and told her he hoped she would excuse his coming into her presence without her permission. Since it was only to restore her those books, whose loss she seemed so greatly to lament, and added that it was with much difficulty he prevailed upon the Marquis not to burn them immediately, and his fears that he might really do as he threatened made him snatch them up and bring them with so little ceremony into her closet. Arabella, whose countenance brightened into a smile of pleasing surprise at the sight of her recovered treasure, turned her bright eyes upon Glanville with a look of complacency that went to his heart. I well perceive, said she, that in exaggerating the merit of this little service you have done me, you expect I should suffer it to cancel your past offenses. I am not ungrateful enough to be insensible of any kindness that has shown me, and though I might be excused for suspecting it was rather policy than friendship that induced you to seek my satisfaction by saving these innocent victims of my father's displeasure. Nevertheless, I pardon you upon the supposition that you will for the future avoid all occasion of offending me. At these words she made a sign to him to be gone. Fearing the extravagance of his joy would make him throw himself at her feet to thank him for her infinite favor she had conferred upon him. But finding he seemed disposed to stay longer, she called one of her women into the closet, and by some significant frowns gave Glanville to understand his stay with displeasing, so that he left her with a very low bow highly pleased at her having repealed his banishment, and assured the marquee that nothing could have happened more fortunate for him than his intended disposal of his daughter's books, since it had proved the means of restoring him to her favor. End of Book 2, Chapter 1, Recording by Shane Nolan Book 2, Chapter 2 of the Female Coyote, Volume 1 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 Shane Nolan. The Female Coyote, Volume 1, by Charlotte Lennox. Book 2, Chapter 2, which contains a very natural incident. From this time, Mr. Glanville, though he was far from coming up to Lady Bella's idea of a lover, yet, by the pains he apparently seemed to be at in obliging her, made every day some progress in her esteem. The marquee was extremely pleased at the harmony which subsisted between them. Though he could have wished to have seen their marriage advance a little faster, but Glanville, who was better acquainted with Arabella's foibles than the marquee, assured him he would ruin all his hopes if he pressed her to marry and entreated him to leave it entirely to him to dispose her to consent to both their wishes. The marquee was satisfied with his reasons, and, resolving not to importune his daughter upon that subject any more, they lived for some months in a perfect tranquility to which an illness the marquee was seized with and which was from the first got to be dangerous, gave a sad interruption. Arabella's extreme tenderness upon this occasion for anxious solicitude, her pious cares, and never ceasing attendance at the bedside of her sick father were so many new charms that engaged the affection of Glanville more strongly. As the marquee's indisposition increased, so did her care and assiduity. She would not allow anyone to give him anything but herself, bore all the petish humors of a sick man with a surprising sweetness and patience, watched whole nights successively by his bedside, and when, at his importunity, she consented to take any rest, it was only upon a couch in his chamber, from whence no entreaties could make her remove. Mr. Glanville partook with her in these fatigues, and by his care of her father and tenderness for her, confirmed her in the esteem she had entertained of him. The marquee, who had struggled with the violence of his distemper for a fortnight, died on the fifteenth day in the arms of Arabella, who received his last looks, his eyes never removing themselves from her face till they were closed by death. Her spirits, which the desire she had of being useful to him had alone supported, now failed her at once, and she fell upon the bed without sense or motion as soon as she saw him expire. Mr. Glanville, who was kneeling on the other side, and had been holding one of his uncle's hands, started up in the most terrible consternation, and seeing the condition she was in, flew to her relief, her women, while he supported her, used all the endeavours they could think of to recover her, but she continued so long in her swoon that they apprehended she was dead, and Glanville was residing himself up to the most bitter sorrow when she opened her eyes, but it was only to close them again. Her faintings continued the whole day, and the physicians declaring she was in great danger from her extreme weakness. She was carried to a bed in a condition that seemed to promise very little hopes of her life. The care of the marquee's funeral devolving upon Mr. Glanville, he sent a messenger express for his father, who was appointed guardian to Lady Bella. The marquee having first asked her if she was willing it should be so. This gentleman arrived time enough to be witness of that sad ceremony, which was performed with a magnificent suitable to the birth and fortune of the marquee. Lady Bella kept her bed several days, and her life was thought to be in danger, but her youth and the strength of her constitution overcame her disease, and when she was so well recovered as to be able to admit of a visit from her uncle, Mr. Glanville sent for permission to introduce him. The afflicted Arabella granted his request, but being then more indisposed than usual, she entreated they would defer their visit for an hour or two, which they complied with, and returning at the appointed time were conducted into her dressing room by Lucy, who informed them her lady was just fallen into a slumber. Mr. Glanville, who had not seen her for some days, expected her waking with great impatience, and pleased himself with describing her with a lover's fondness to his father, when the sound of her voice in the next room interrupted him. End of Book 2, Chapter 2, Recording by Shane Nolan Book 2, Chapter 3 of the Female Quixote, Volume 1 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 1, by Charlotte Lennox Book 2, Chapter 3, which treats of a consolatory visit and other grave matters Arabella, being then awakened from her slumber, was indulging her grief by complaints, which her women were so used to hear that they never offered to disturb her. Merciless fate, said she, in the most moving tone imaginable, cruel destiny, that, not contented with having deprived my infancy of the soft cares and tender indulgences of a mother's fondness, has robbed me of the only parent I had left, and exposed me at these early years to the grief of losing him, who was not only my father, but my friend and protector of my youth. Then, pausing a moment, she renewed her complaints with a deep sigh. Dear relics of the best of fathers, pursued she, why was it not permitted me to bathe you with my tears? Why were those sacred mermains of him, from whom I drew my life, snatched from my eyes, ere they had poured their tribute of sorrow over them? Ah, pitiless women, said she to her attendance, you prevented me from performing the last pious rites to my dear father. You, by your cruel care, hindered me from easing my sad heart by paying him the last duties he could receive from me. Pardon, O dear and sacred shade of my loved father, pardon this unwilling neglect of thy afflicted child, who, to the last moment of her wretched life, will bewail thy loss. Here she ceased speaking, and Mr. Glanville, whom this soliloquy had much less confounded than his father, was preparing to go in and comfort her, when the old gentleman stopped him with a look of great concern. My niece is certainly much worse than we apprehend, said he. She is in a delirium. Our presence may, perhaps, discompose her too much. No, sir, replied Glanville, extremely confused at this suspicion. My cousin is not so bad as you suppose. It is common enough for people in any great affliction to ease themselves by complaints. But these, replied the knight, are the strangest complaints I ever heard, and savor so much of frenzy that I am persuaded her head is not quite right. Glanville was going to reply, when Lucy, entering, told them her lady had ordered their admission, upon which they followed her into Arabella's chamber, who was lying negligently upon her bed. Her deep mourning and the black gauze which covered part of her fair face was so advantageous to her shape and complexion that Sir Charles, who had not seen her since she grew up, was struck with an extreme surprise at her beauty, while his son was gazing on her so passionately that he never thought of introducing his father to her, who contemplated her with as much admiration as his son, though with less passion. Arabella, rising from her bed, saluted her uncle with the grace that wholly charmed him, and, turning to receive Mr. Glanville, she burst into tears at the remembrance of his having assisted her in her last attendance upon her father. Alas, sir, said she, when we saw each other last, we were both engaged in a very melancholy office. Had it pleased heaven to have spared my father, he would, doubtless, have been extremely sensible of your generous cares, nor shall you have any reason to accuse me of ingratitude, since I shall always acknowledge your kindness as I ought. If you think you owe me any obligation, returned Glanville, pay me, dearest cousin, by moderating your sorrow. Indeed, you suffered yourself to sink too much under an affliction, which is impossible to be remedied. Alas, answered Arabella, my grief is very slight compared to that of many others upon the death of their relations. The greats to sing ambas, who, questionless, wanted neither fortitude nor courage, upon the news of her granddaughter's death, wrapped herself up in her veil and, resolving never more to behold the light, waited for death than that posture. Menocrates, upon the loss of his wife, built a magnificent tomb for her, and, shutting himself up in it, resolved to pass away the remainder of his life with her ashes. These, indeed, were glorious effects of piety and affection, and unfane signs of an excessive sorrow. What are the few tears I shed to such illustrious instances of grief and affection as these? Glanville, finding his cousin upon this strain, blushed extremely and would have changed the subject, but the old gentleman, who had never heard of these two persons she mentioned, who expressed their sorrow for their losses in so stranger manner, was surprised at it, and was resolved to know more about them. Pray, niece, said he, were you acquainted with these people who could not submit to the dispensation of providence, but as one may say, flew in the face of heaven by their impatience? I am very well acquainted with their history, resumed Arabella, and I can assure you they were both very admirable persons. Oh, oh, their history interrupted the night. What, I warrant you, they are to be found in the fairy tales and those sorts of books. Well, I never could like such romances, not I, for they only spoil youth and put strange notions into their heads. I am sorry, resumed Arabella, blushing with anger, that we are like to differ in opinion upon so important a point. Truly, niece, said Sir Charles, if we never differ in anything else, I shall be very easy about this slight manner, though I think a young lady of your fine sense, for my son praises you to the skies for your wit, should not be so fond of such ridiculous nonsense as these storybooks are filled with. Upon my word, resumed Arabella, all the respect I owe you cannot hinder me from telling you that I take it extremely ill you should, in my presence, rail at the finest productions in the world. I think we are infinitely obliged to these authors, who have, in so sublime a style, delivered down to posterity the heroic actions of the bravest men and most virtuous of women. But for the inimitable pen of the famous Scuderi, we had been ignorant of the lives of many great and illustrious persons. The warlike actions of Oroandates, Arancis, Juba, and the renowned Artaban had, happily, never been talked of in our age, and those fair and chaste ladies, who were the objects of their pure and constant passions, had still been buried in obscurity, and neither their divine beauties or singular virtue being the subject of our admiration and praise. But for the famous Scuderi, we had not known the true cause of that action of Clelia's for which the senate decreed her a statue, namely, her casting herself with an unparalleled courage into the Tiber, a deep and rapid river, as you must certainly know, and swimming to the other side. It was not, as the Roman historians falsely report, a stratagem to recover herself and the other hostages from the power of Porcena. It was to preserve her honor from violation by the impious Sextus, who was in the camp. But for Scuderi, we had still thought the inimitable poet has Sappho to be a loose wanton, whose verses breathe nothing but unchaste and irregular fires. On the contrary, she was so remarkably chaste that she would never even consent to marry, but loving Phaeon, only with a platonic passion, obliged him to restrain his desires within the compass of a brother's affection. Numberless are the mistakes he has cleared up of this kind, and I question if any other historian but himself knew that Cleopatra was really married to Julius Caesar, or that Cesario, her son by this marriage, was not murdered as was supposed by the Order of Augustus, but married the fair queen of Ethiopia in whose dominions he took refuge. The prodigious acts of valor which she has recounted of those accomplished princes have never been equaled by the heroes of either the Greek or Roman historians. How poor and insignificant are the actions of their warriors to Scuderi's, where one of those admirable heroes would put whole armies into terror, and with his single arm oppose a legion. Indeed, niece, said Sir Charles, no longer able to forbear interrupting her. These are all very improbable tales. I remember when I was a boy, I was very fond of reading the history of Jack the Giant Killer and Tom Thumb, and these stories so filled my head that I really thought one of those little heroes killed men a hundred feet high, and that the other, after a great many surprising exploits, was swallowed up by a cow. You was very young, Sir, you say, interrupted Arabella tartly, when those stories gained your belief. However, your judgment was certainly younger if you ever believed them at all, for as credulous as you are pleased to think me, I should never at any age have been persuaded such things could have happened. My father, Madam, said Glanville, who was strangely confused all this time, bore arms in his youth, and soldiers, you know, never trouble themselves much with reading. Has my uncle been a soldier, said Arabella, and does he hold in contempt the actions of the bravest soldiers in the world? The soldiers you speak of, niece, said Sir Charles, were indeed the bravest soldiers in the world, for I don't believe they ever had their equals. And yet, sir, said Arabella, there are a great number of such soldiers to be found in Scuderi. Indeed, my dear niece, interrupted Sir Charles, they are to be found nowhere else, except in your imagination, which, I am sorry to see, is filled with such whimsies. If you mean this to affront me, sir, resumed Arabella, hardly able to forebear tears, I know how far as my uncle I ought to bear with you. But me thinks it is highly unkind to aggravate my sorrows by such cruel jests, and, since I am not in a humor to suffer them, don't take it ill if I entreat you to leave me to myself. Mr. Glanville, who knew nothing pleased his cousin so much as paying an exact obedience to her commands, rose up immediately, and, bowing respectfully to her, asked her father if he should attend him into the gardens. The baronet, who thought Arabella's behavior bordered a good deal upon rudeness, took his leave with some signs of displeasure upon his countenance, and, notwithstanding all his son could say an excuse for her, he was extremely offended. What, said he to Mr. Glanville, does she so little understand the respect that is due to me as her uncle, that she, so preemptorily, desired me to leave her room? My brother was to blame to take so little care of her education. She is quite a rustic. Ah, don't wrong your judgment so much, sir, said Glanville. My cousin has as little of the rustic as if she had passed all her life in a court. Her fine sense and the native elegance of her manners give in inimitable grace to her behavior, and as much exceed this studied politeness of other ladies I have conversed with, as the beauties of her person do all I have ever seen. She is very handsome, I confess, return, sir Charles, but I cannot think so well of her wit as you do. For me thinks she talks very oddly, and has the strangest conceits, who but herself would think it probable that one man could put a whole army to flight, or command a foolish fellow for living in a tomb, because his wife was buried in it. Fie! Fie! These are silly and extravagant notions, and will make her appear very ridiculous. Mr. Glanville was so sensible of the justness of this remark, that he could not help sighing, which his father observing told him, that, since she was to be his wife, it was his business to produce a reformation in her. For, added he, notwithstanding the immense fortune she will bring you, I should be sorry to have a daughter-in-law for whom I should blotch as often as she opens her mouth. I assure you, sir, said Mr. Glanville, I have but very little hopes that I shall be so happy as to have my cousin for a wife. For, though it was my uncle's command I should make my addresses to her, she received me so ill as a lover, that I have never dared to talk to her upon that subject since. And pray, resumed sir Charles, upon what terms are you at present? While I seem to pretend nothing to her as a lover, resupplied Mr. Glanville, she is very obliging, and we live in great harmony together. But I am persuaded, if I exceed the bounds of friendship in my professions, she will treat me extremely ill. But, interrupted sir Charles, when she shall know that her father has bequeathed you one third of his estate, provided she don't marry you, tis probable her mind may change, and you may depend upon it, since your heart is so much set upon her, that, as I am her guardian, I shall press her to perform the marquee's will. Ah, sir, resumed Mr. Glanville, never attempt to lay any constraint upon my cousin in an affair of this nature. Permit me to tell you, it would be an abuse of the marquee's generous confidence, and what I would never submit to. Nay, nay, said the old gentleman, you have no reason to fear any compulsion from me, though her father has left me her guardian till she is of age, yet it is with such restriction that my niece is quite her own mistress in that respect, for though she is directed to consult me in her choice of an husband, yet my consent is not absolutely necessary. The marquee has certainly had a great opinion of his daughter's prudence, and I hope she will prove herself worthy of it by her conduct. Mr. Glanville was so taken up with his reflections upon the state of his affairs, that he made but little reply, and as soon as he had disengaged himself, retired to his chamber, to be at more liberty to indulge his meditations. As he could not flatter himself, with having made any impression upon the heart of Arabella, he foresaw a thousand inconveniences from the death of the marquee. For, besides that he lost a powerful mediator with his cousin, he feared that, when she appeared in the world, her beauty and fortune would attract a crowd of admirers, among whom it was probable, she would find someone more agreeable to her taste than himself. As he loved her with great tenderness, this thought made him extremely uneasy, and he would sometimes wish the marquee had laid a stronger injunction upon her in his will to marry him, and regroded the little power his father had over her. But he was too generous to dwell long upon these thoughts, and contented himself with doing all that was honorable to obtain her, without seeking for any assistance from unjustifiable methods. And of Book 2, Chapter 3. Book 2, Chapter 4 of the Female Quixote, Volume 1. 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 1, by Charlotte Lennox. Book 2, Chapter 4, which contains some common occurrences but placed in a new light. Arabella, in a few days, leaving her chamber, had so many opportunities of charming her uncle by her conversation, which, when it did not turn upon any incident in her romances, was perfectly fine, easy, and entertaining, that he declared he should quit the castle with great regret, and endeavored to persuade her to accompany him to town. But Arabella, who was determined to pass the year of her mourning in the retirement she had always lived in, absolutely refused, strong as her curiosity was to see London. Mr. Glanville secretly rejoiced at this resolution, though he seemed desirous of making her change it, but she was unalterable, and therefore the baronet did not think proper to press her anymore. Her father's will being read to her, she seemed extremely pleased with the articles in favour of Mr. Glanville, wishing him joy of the estate that was bequeathed to him with the most enchanting sweetness. Mr. Glanville sighed, and cast his eyes on the ground, as he returned her compliment, with a very low bow, and Sir Charles, observing his confusion, told Arabella that he thought it was a very bad omen for his son, to wish him joy of an estate which he could not come to the possession of but by a very great misfortune. Arabella, understanding his meaning, lashed, and willing to change the discourse, proceeded to consult her uncle upon the regulation of her house. Besides the legacies her father had bequeathed to his servants, those who were more immediately about his person, she desired, might have, their salaries continued to them. She made no other alteration than discharging these attendants, retaining all of the others, and submitting to her uncle the management of her estates, receiving the allowance he thought proper to assign her, till she was of age, of which she wanted three years. Everything being settled, Sir Charles prepared to return to town. Mr. Glanville, who desired nothing so much as to stay some time longer with his cousin in her solitude, got his father to entreat that favour for him from Arabella. But she represented to her uncle the impropriety of a young gentleman staying with her in her house, now her father was dead, in a manner so genteel and convincing that Sir Charles could press it no further, and all that Mr. Glanville could obtain was a permission to visit her some time after, provided he could prevail upon his sister, Miss Charlotte Glanville, to accompany him. The day of their departure being come, Sir Charles took his leave of his charming niece, with many expressions of esteem and affection, and Mr. Glanville appeared so concerned that Arabella could not help observing it, and bed him adieu with great sweetness. When they were gone, she found her time hung heavy upon her hands. Her father was continually in her thoughts, and made her extremely melancholy. She recollected the many agreeable conversations she had had with Glanville, and wished it had been consistent with decency to have detained him. Her books being the only amusement she had left, she applied herself to reading with more eagerness than ever. But notwithstanding the delight she took in this employment, she had so many hours of solitude and melancholy to indulge the remembrance of her father in, that she was very far from being happy. As she wished for nothing more passionately than an agreeable companion of her own sex and rank, an accident threw a person in her way, who, for some days, afforded her a little amusement. Stepping one day out of her coach to go into church, she saw a young lady enter, accompanied with a middle-aged woman, who seemed to be an attendant. As Arabella had never seen anyone above the rank of a gentleman farmer's daughter in this church, her attention was immediately engaged by the appearance of this stranger, who was very magnificently dressed. Though she did not seem to be more than eighteen years of age, her stature was above the ordinary size of women. And, being rather too plump to be delicate, her mean was so majestic, and such an air of grandeur was diffused over her whole person, joined to the charms of a very lovely face, that Arabella could hardly help thinking she saw the beautiful Candice before her, who, by Scuderi's description, very much resembled this fair one. Arabella, having heedfully observed her looks, thought she saw a great appearance of melancholy in her eyes, which filled her with a generous concern for the misfortunes of so admirable a person. But, the service beginning, she was not at liberty to indulge her reflections upon this occasion, as she never suffered any thoughts but those of religion to intrude upon her mind during these pious rites. As she was going out of church, she observed the young lady, attended only with the woman who came with her, preparing to walk home, and therefore stepped forward, and saluting her with a grace peculiar to herself, and treated her to come into her coach, and give her the pleasure of setting her down at her own house. So, obliging an offer from a person of Arabella's rank could not fail of being received with great respect by the young lady, who was not ignorant of all the forms of good breeding, and, accepting her invitation, she stepped into the coach. Arabella obliging her woman to come in also, for whom, as she had that day only Lucy along with her, there was room enough. As they were going home, Arabella, who longed to be better acquainted, entreated the fair stranger, as she called her, to go to the castle and spend the day with her, and she consenting, they passed by the house where she lodged, and alighted at the castle, where Arabella welcomed her with the most obliging expressions of civility and respect. The young lady, though perfectly versed in the modes of town breeding, and nothing-meaning ceremony, was at a loss how to make proper returns to the civilities of Arabella. The native elegance and simplicity of her manners were accompanied with so much real benevolence of heart, such insinuating tenderness, and graces so irresistible, that she was quite oppressed with them, and, having spent most of her time between her toilet and quadril, was so little qualified for partaking a conversation so refined as Arabella's, that her discourse appeared quite tedious to her, since it was neither upon fashions, assemblies, cards, or scandal. Her silence and that absence of mind which she betrayed, made Arabella conclude she was under some very great affliction, and to amuse her after dinner led her into the gardens, supposing a person whose uneasiness, as she did not doubt, proceeded from love, would be pleased with the sight of groves and streams, and be tempted to disclose her misfortunes, while they wandered in that agreeable privacy. In this, however, she was deceived, for, though the young lady sighed several times, yet, when she did speak, it was only of indifferent things, and not at all in the manner of an afflicted heroine. After observing upon a thousand trifles, she told Arabella at last, to whom she was desirous of making known her alliance to quality, that these gardens were extremely like those of her father-in-laws, the Duke of Blank at Blank. At this intimation she expected Arabella would be extremely surprised, but that lady, whose thoughts were always familiarized to objects of grandeur, and would not have been astonished if she had understood her guest was the daughter of a king, appeared so little moved that the lady was peaked by her indifference, and after a few moment silence began to mention going away. Arabella, who was desirous of retaining her a few days, entreated her so obligingly to favor her with her company for some time in her solitude, that the other could not refuse, and dispatching her woman to the house where she lodged to inform them of her stay at the castle, would have dispensed with her coming again to attend her, had not Arabella insisted upon the contrary. The reserve, which the daughter-in-law of the Duke of Blank still continued to maintain, notwithstanding the repeated expressions of friendship Arabella used to her, increased her curiosity to know her adventures, which she was extremely surprised she had never offered to relate. But attributing her silence upon this head to her modesty, she was resolved, as was the custom in those cases, to oblige her woman, who she presumed was her confidant, to relate her lady's history to her, and sending for this person one day, when she was alone, to attend her in her closet, she gave orders to her women if the fair stranger came to inquire for her, to say she was then busy, but would wait in her as soon as possible. After this caution, she ordered Mrs. Morris to be admitted, and, obliging her to sit down, told her she sent for her in order to hear from her the history of her lady's life, which she was extremely desirous of knowing. Mrs. Morris, who was a person of sense, and had seen the world, was extremely surprised at this request of Arabella, which was quite contrary to the laws of good breeding, and as she thought, betrayed a great deal of impertinent curiosity. She could not tell how to account for the free manner in which she desired her to give up her lady's secrets, which indeed were not of a nature to be told, and appeared so much confused that Arabella took notice of it, and supposing it was her bashfulness which caused her embarrassment, she endeavored to reassure her by the most affable behavior imaginable. Mrs. Morris, who was not capable of much fidelity for her lady, being but lately taken into her service, and not extremely fond of her, thought she had now a fine opportunity of recommending herself to Arabella by telling her all she knew of Miss Groves, for that was her name, and therefore told her, since she was pleased to command it, she would give her what account she was able of her lady, but entreated her to be secret, because it was of great consequence to her that her affairs should not be known. I always imagine, said Arabella, that your beautiful mistress had some particular reason for not making herself known, and for coming in this private manner into this part of the country. You may assure yourself, therefore, that I will protect her as far as I am able, and offer her all the assistance in my power to give her. Therefore, you may acquaint me with her adventures, without being apprehensive of a discovery that would be prejudicial to her. Mrs. Morris, who had been much better pleased with the assurances of her reward for the intelligence she was going to give her, looked a little foolish at these fine promises, in which she had no share. And Arabella, supposing she was endeavoring to recollect all the passages of her lady's life, told her she need not give herself the trouble to acquaint her with anything that passed during the infancy of her lady, but proceed to acquaint her with matters of greater importance. And since, said she, you have, no doubt, been most favored with her confidence, you will do me a pleasure to describe to me exactly all the thoughts of her soul, as she has communicated them to you, that I may the better comprehend her history. Though, madame, said Mrs. Morris, I have not been long in misgrove service, yet I know of great many things by the means of her former woman, who told them to me, though my lady thinks I am ignorant of them, and I know that this is her second trip into the country. Pray, interrupted Arabella, do me the favor to relate things methodically, of what uses it to me to know that this is your lady's second trip, as you call it, into the country, if I know not the occasion of it. Therefore, begin with informing me who were the parents of this admirable young person. Her father, madame, said Mrs. Morris, was a merchant, and at his death left her a large fortune, and so considerable a jointure to his wife, that the Duke of Blank, being then a widower, was tempted to make his addresses to her. Mrs. Groves was one of the proudest women in the world, and this offer flattering her ambition more than ever she had reason to expect. She married the Duke after a very short courtship, and carried Mrs. Groves down with her to Blank, where the Duke had a fine seat, and where she was received by his grace's daughters, who were much about her own age with great civility. Mrs. Groves, madame, was then about twelve years old, and was educated with the Duke's daughters, who, in a little time, became quite disgusted with their new sister. For Mrs. Groves, who inherited her mother's pride, though not her understanding, in all things affected inequality with those young ladies, who, conscious of the superiority of their birth, could but ill bear with her insolence and presumption. As they grew older, the difference of their inclinations caused perpetual quarrels amongst them, for his grace's daughters were serious, reserved, and pious. Mrs. Groves' affected noisy mirth was a great romp and delighted in masculine exercises. The Duchess was often reflected on for suffering her daughter, without any other company than two or three servants, to spend great part of the day in writing about the country, leaping over hedges and ditches, exposing her fair face to the injuries of the sun and wind, and, by those coarse exercises, contracting a masculine and robust air not becoming her sex, and tender years. Yet she could not be prevailed upon to restrain her from this diversion, till it was reported she had listened to the addresses of a young sportsman who used to mix in her train, when she went upon those rambles, and procured frequent opportunities of conversing with her. There is a great difference, interrupted Arabella, in suffering addresses and being betrayed into an involuntary hearing of them, and this last I conceived to have been the case for your lady, for it is not very probable she would so far forget what she owed to her own glory as to be induced to listen quietly to discourses like those you mention. However, madam, resumed Mrs. Morris, the Duchess thought it necessary to keep her more at home, but even here she was not without meeting adventures, and found a lover in the person who taught her to write. That indeed was a very notable adventure, said Arabella, but it is not strange that love should produce such metamorphosis. It is not very long ago that I heard of a man of quality who disguised himself in a poor habit and worked in the gardens of a certain nobleman whose daughter he was enamored with. These things happen every day. The person I speak of, madam, said Mrs. Morris, was never discovered to be anything better than a writing master, and yet for all that, Miss was smitten by his fine person and was taking measures to run away with him when the intrigue was discovered. Her lover dismissed, and the young lady, whose faulty conduct had drawn upon her her mother's dislike, was sent up to London and allowed to be her own mistress at sixteen, to which unpardonable neglect of her mother she owes the misfortunes that have since befallen her. Whatever may be the common opinion of this matter, interrupted Arabella again, I am persuaded the writing master, as you call him, was some person of quality who made use of that device to get access to his beautiful mistress. Love is ingenious in artifices. Who would have thought that, under the name of Alsippus, a simple attendant of the fair Artemisa, Princess of Armenia, the gallant Alexander, son of the great and unfortunate Antony, by Queen Cleopatra, was concealed, who took upon himself that mean condition for the sake of seeing his adored princess. Yet the contrivance of Orontes, Prince of the Masegates, was far more ingenious and even dangerous, for this valiant and young prince, happening to see the picture of the beautiful Thalassyrus, daughter of the Queen of the Amazons, he fell passionately in love with her. And knowing that the entrance into that country was forbidden to men, he dressed himself in women's apparel, and finding means to be introduced to the Queen and her fair daughter, whose amity he gained by some very singular services in the wars. He lived several years undiscovered in their court. I see therefore no reason to the contrary, but that this writing master might have been some illustrious person, whose love had disguised, and, and I am persuaded, added she, smiling, that I shall hear more of him anon in a very different character. Indeed, Madame, said Mrs. Morris, whom this speech of Arabella had extremely surprised, I never heard anything more of him than what I have related, and for what I know he continues still to teach writing, for I don't suppose the Duchess's displeasure could affect him. How is it possible, said Arabella, that you can suppose such an offense to probability? In my opinion, it is much more likely that this unfortunate lover is dead through despair, or perhaps wandering over the world in search of that fair one, who is snatched from his hopes. If it was his design to seek her, Madame, resumed Mrs. Morris, he need not have gone far, since she was only sent to London, with her he might easily have followed her. There is no accounting for these things, said Arabella. Perhaps he has been imposed upon, and made to believe that it was she herself that banished him from her presence. It is probable, too, that he was jealous, and thought she preferred some one of his rivals to him. Jealousy is inseparable from true love, and the slightest matters imaginable will occasion it. And what is still more wonderful, this passion creates the greatest disorders in the most sensible and delicate hearts. Never was there more refined and faithful passion than that of the renowned Arteminis for Mondana, and yet this prince was driven almost to distraction by a smile which, he fancied, he saw in the face of his divine mistress at a time when she had some reason to believe he was dead. And he was so transported with grief and rage, that though he was a prisoner in his enemy's camp, where the knowledge of his quality would have procured him certain death, yet he determined to hazard all things for the sake of presenting himself before Mondana, and upgrading her with her infidelity, when, in reality, nothing was farther from the thoughts of that fair and virtuous princess than the lightness he accused her of. So that, as I said before, it is not at all to be wondered at if this disguised lover of your lady was driven to despair by suspicions as groundless, perhaps, as those of Arteminis, yet not the less cruel and tormenting. Mrs. Morris, finding Arabella held her peace at these words, went on with her history in this manner. Ms. Groves, madam, being directed by her woman in all things, took up her lodgings in her father's house, who was a broken tradesman, and obliged to keep himself concealed for fear of his creditors. Here she formed her equipage, which consisted of a chair, one footman, a cook, and her woman. As she was indulged with the command of what money she pleased, her extravagance was boundless. She lavished away large sums at gaming, which was her favorite diversion, kept such a number of different animals for favorites that their maintenance amounted to a considerable sum every year. Her woman's whole family were supported at her expense, and as she frequented all public places and surpassed ladies of the first quality in finery, her dress alone consumed great part of her income. I need not tell you, madam, that my lady was a celebrated beauty. You have yourself been pleased to say that she is very handsome. When she first appeared at court, her beauty and the uncommon dignity of her person at such early years made her the object of general admiration. The king was particularly struck with her, and declared to those about him that Ms. Groves was the finest woman at court. The ladies, however, found means to explain away all that was flattering in this distinction. They said, Ms. Groves was clumsy, and it was her resemblance to the unwieldy German ladies that made her so much admired by his majesty. Her pride and the quality air she affected were the subject of great ridicule to those that envied her charms. Some censures were maliciously cast on her birth, for as she was always styled the duches of Blank's daughter, a custom she introduced herself, she seemed to disclaim all title to a legal father. Ms. Groves, as universally admired as she was, yet made but very few particular conquests. Her fortune was known to be very considerable, and her mother's jointure was to descend to her after her death. Yet there was no gentleman who would venture upon a wife of Ms. Groves' tastes her expense, as very few estates to which she could pretend would support her extravagance. Honorable Mr. L, brother to the Earl of Blank, was the only one amidst a crowd of admirers who made any particular address to her. This gentleman was tolerably handsome, and had the art of making himself agreeable to the ladies, by a certain air of softness and tenderness which never failed to make some impression upon those he desired to deceive. Ms. Groves was ravished with her conquest, and boasted of it so openly that people who were acquainted with this gentleman's character, foreseeing her fate, could not help pitying her. A very few months courtship completed the ruin of poor Ms. Groves. She fell a sacrifice to oaths which had been often prostituted for the same inhuman purposes, and became so fond of her betrayer that it was with great difficulty he could persuade her not to give him, even in public, the most ridiculous proofs of her tenderness. Her woman pretends that she was ignorant of this intrigue till Ms. Groves' growing bigwith child it could no longer be concealed. It was at length agreed she should lie in at her own lodgings to prevent any suspicions from her retreating into the country, but that scheme was overruled by her woman's mother, who advised her to conceal herself in some village not far from town till the affair was over. Ms. Groves approved of this second proposal, but took advantage of her shape, which, being far from delicate, would not easily discover any growing bigness to stay in town as long as she possibly could. When her removal was necessary, she went to the lodgings provided for her, a few miles distant from London, and notwithstanding the excuses which were framed for this sudden absence, the true cause was more than suspected by some busy people who industriously inquired into her affairs. Mr. L. saw her butt seldom during her illness. The fear of being discovered was his pretense, but her friends easily saw through this disguise, and were persuaded Ms. Groves was waning in his affections. As she had a very strong constitution, she returned to town at the end of three weeks. The child was dead, and she looked handsomer than ever. Mr. L. continued his visits, and the town to make remarks of them. All this time, the duchess never troubled herself about the conduct of this unfortunate young creature, and the people she was with had not the goodness to give her any hint of her misconduct and the waste of her fortune. On the contrary, they almost turned her head with their flatteries, prayed upon her fortune, and winked at her irregularities. She was now a second time with child. Her character was pretty severely handled by her enemies. Mr. L. began openly to slight her, and she was now several thousand pounds in debt. The mother and sisters of her woman, in whose house she still was, were bare enough to whisper the fault she had been guilty of to all their acquaintances. Her story became generally known. She was shunned and neglected by everybody, and even Mr. L., who had been the cause of her ruin, entirely abandoned her, and boasted openly of the favors he had received from her. Miss Groves protested to her friends that he had promised her marriage, but Mr. L. constantly denied it, and never scrupled to say when he was questioned about it that he found Miss Groves too easy a conquest to make any perjury necessary. Her tenderness, however, for this baseman was so great that she never could bear to hear him railed at in her presence, but would quarrel with the only friends she had left if they said anything to his disadvantage. As she was now pretty far advanced with child she would have retired into the country, but the bad condition of her affairs made her removal impossible. In this extremity she had recourse to her uncle, a rich merchant in the city, who, having taken all the necessary precautions for his own security, paid Miss Groves debts, carrying on in her name a lawsuit with the Duchess for some lands which were to be put into her hands when she was of age, and which that great lady detained. Miss Groves, being reduced to live upon something less than a hundred a year, quitted London, and came into this part of the country where she was received by Mrs. Barnett, one of her women's sisters, who is married to a country gentleman of some fortune. In her house she lay in of a girl, which Mr. L. sent to demand, and will not be persuaded to inform her how or in what manner he has disposed of the child. Her former woman leaving her I was received in her place, from whom I learned all these particulars, and Miss Groves having gained the affections of Mr. Barnett's brother, her beauty, and the large fortune which she has in reversion had induced him, notwithstanding the knowledge of her past unhappy conduct, to marry her. But their marriage is yet a secret, Miss Groves being apprehensive of her uncle's displeasure for not consulting him in her choice. Her husband is gone to London with an intention to acquaint him with it, and when he returns their marriage will be publicly owned. End of Book 2, Chapter 5 Book 2, Chapter 6 of the Female Quixote, Volume 1 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 1, by Charlotte Lennox Book 2, Chapter 6 Containing What a Judicious Reader Will Hardly Approve Mrs. Morris, ending her narration, Arabella, who had not been able to restrain her tears at some parts of it, thanked her for the trouble she had been at, and assured her of her secrecy. Your lady's case, said she, is much to be lamented, and greatly resembles the unfortunate Cleopatra's, whom Julius Caesar privately marrying with a promise to own her for his wife, when he should be peaceable master of the Roman Empire, left that great queen big with child, and, never intending to perform his promise, suffered her to be exposed to the censures the world has so freely cast upon her, in which she so little deserved. Mrs. Morris, seeing the favourable light in which Arabella viewed the actions of her lady, did not think proper to say anything to deceive her, but went out of the closet, not a little mortified at her disappointment. For she saw she was likely to receive nothing for betraying her lady's secrets from Arabella, who seemed so little sensible of the pleasure of scandal, as to be wholly ignorant of its nature, and not to know it when it was told her. Miss Groves, who has just come to Lady Bella's chamber door to inquire for her, was surprised to see her woman come out of it, and who, upon meeting her, expressed great confusion, as she was going to ask her some questions concerning her business there, Arabella came out of her closet, and seeing Miss Groves in her chamber asked her pardon for staying so long from her. I have been listening to your history, said she, with great frankness, which your woman has been relating, and I assure you I am extremely sensible of your misfortunes. Miss Groves, at these words, blushed with extreme confusion, and Mrs. Morris turned pale with astonishment and fear. Arabella, not sensible that she had been guilty of any indiscretion, proceeded to make reflections upon some part of her story, which, though they were not at all disadvantageous to that young lady, she received as so many insults, and asked Lady Bella if she was not ashamed to tamper with a servant to betray the secrets of her mistress. Arabella, a little surprised at so rude a question, answered, however, with great sweetness, and protested to her that she would make no ill use of what she had learned of her affairs. For, in fine, madam, said she, do you think I am less fit to be trusted with your secrets than the princess of the Leotinus was with those of Clelia, between whom there was no greater amity and acquaintance than with us? And you must certainly know that the secrets which that admirable person entrusted with Lysimina were of a nature to be more dangerous if revealed than yours. The happiness of Clelia depended on Lysimina's fidelity, and the liberty may happily the life of Aaronces would have been in danger if she had betrayed them. Though I do not intend to arrogate to myself the possession of those admirable qualities which adorned the princess of the Elendinus, yet I will not yield to her or anyone else in generosity and fidelity, and if you will be pleased to repose as much confidence in me as those illustrious lovers did in her, you shall be convinced I will labor as earnestly for your interest as that fair princess did for those of Aaronces and Clelia. Miss Groves was so busyed in reflecting upon the baseness of her woman in exposing her that she heard not a word of this fine harangue, at which Mrs. Morris, notwithstanding the cause she had for uneasiness, could hardly help laughing. But assuming some of that haughtiness in her looks, for which she used to be remarkable, she told Lady Bella that she imputed her impertinent curiosity to her country ignorance and ill-breeding. And she did not doubt but she would be served in her own kind, and meet with as bad a fortune as she had done, and perhaps deserve it worse than she did. For there are more false men in the world besides Mr. L, and she was no handsomer than other people. Saying this, she flung out of the room, her woman following, leaving Arabella in such confusion at a behavior of which she had never before had an idea that for some moments she remained immovable, recollecting herself at last, and conceiving that civility required she should endeavor to appease this incense lady. She went downstairs after her, and stopping her just as she was going out of the house, and treated her to be calm, and suffer her to vindicate herself from the imputation of being impertinently curious to know her affairs. Ms. Groves, quite transported with shame and anger, refused absolutely to stay. At least Madam, said Arabella, stay till my coach can be got ready, and don't think of walking home so slightly attended. This offer was as sullenly answered as the other, and Arabella, finding she was determined to venture home with no other guard than her woman, who silently followed her, ordered two of her footmen to attend her at a small distance, and to defend her if there should be occasion. For who knows, said she to Lucy, what accident may happen. Some one or other of her insolent lovers may take this opportunity to carry her away, and I should never forgive myself for being the cause of such a misfortune to her. Mrs. Morris, having found it easy to reconcile herself to her lady by assuring her that Lady Bella was acquainted with great part of her story before, and that what she told her tended only to justify her conduct, as she might have been convinced by what Lady Bella said. They both went home with a resolution to say nothing of what had passed, with relation to the cause of the disgust Ms. Groves had received, but only said in general that Lady Bella was the most ridiculous creature in the world, and was so totally ignorant of good-breeding that it was impossible to converse with her. The Female Quixote, Volume I, by Charlotte Lennox Book II, Chapter VII, which treats of the Olympic Games While Arabella was ruminating on the unaccountable behaviour of her new acquaintance, she received a letter from her uncle informing her, for she had expressly forbid Mr. Glanville to write to her, that his son and daughter intended to set out for her seat in a few days. This news was received with great satisfaction by Arabella, who hoped to find an agreeable companion in her cousin, and was not so insensible of Mr. Glanville's merit as not to feel some kind of pleasure at the thought of seeing him again. This letter was soon followed by the arrival of Mr. Glanville and his sister, who, upon the sight of Arabella, discovered some appearance of astonishment and chagrin, for notwithstanding all her brother had told her of her accomplishments, she could not conceive it possible for a young lady, bred up in the country, to be so perfectly elegant and gentile as she found her cousin. As Miss Charlotte had a large share of cockatry in her composition, and was fond of beauty in none of her own sex but herself, she was sorry to see Lady Bella possessed of so great a share. And, being in hopes her brother had drawn a flattering figure of her cousin, she was extremely disappointed at finding the original so handsome. Arabella, on the contrary, was highly pleased with Miss Glanville, and finding her person very agreeable did not fail to commend her beauty, a fort of complacence mightily in use among the heroines, who knew not what envy or emulation meant. Miss Glanville received her praises with great politeness, but could not find in her heart to return them. And, as soon as these compliments were over, Mr. Glanville told Lady Bella how tedious he had found the short absence she had forced him to, and how great was his satisfaction at seeing her again. I shall not dispute the truth of your last assertion, replied Arabella, smiling, since I verily believe you are mighty well satisfied at present, but I know not how you will make it appear that an absence, which you allow to be short, has seemed so tedious to you, for this is a manifest contradiction. However, pursued she, preventing his reply, you look so well, and so much at ease, that I am apt to believe absence has agreed very well with you. And yet I assure you, Madam, said Mr. Glanville, interrupting her, that I have suffered more uneasiness during this absence than I fear you will permit me to tell you. Since, replied Arabella, that uneasiness has neither made you thinner nor paler, I don't think you ought to be pitied, for, to say the truth, in these sorts of matters, a person's bare testimony has but little weight. Mr. Glanville was going to make her some answer, when Miss Glanville, who, while they had been speaking, was adjusting her dress at the glass, came up to them, and made the conversation more general. After dinner they adjourned to the gardens, where the gay Miss Glanville, running eagerly from one walk to another, gave her brother as many opportunities of talking to Lady Bella as he could wish. However, he stood in such awe of her, and dreaded so much another banishment, that he did not dare, otherwise and by distant hints, to mention his passion. And Arabella, well enough pleased with her respect, that in some measure came up to her expectation, discovered no resentment at insinuations she was at liberty to disemple the knowledge of. And if he could not, by her behaviour, flatter himself with any great hopes, yet he found his little reason, in Arabella's language, to despair. Miss Glanville, at the end of a few weeks, was so tired of the magnificent solitude she lived in, that she heartily repented her journey, and insinuated to her brother her inclination to return to town. Mr. Glanville, knowing his stay was regulated by his sisters, entreated her not to expose him to the mortification of leaving Arabella so soon, and promised her he would contrive some amusements for her, which should make her relish the country better than she had yet done. Accordingly, he proposed to Arabella to go to the races, which were to be held at a few miles from the castle. She would have excused herself upon account of her mourning. But Miss Glanville discovered so great an inclination to be present at this diversion, that Arabella could no longer refuse to accompany her. Since, said she to Miss Glanville, you are fond of public diversions. It happens very luckily that these races are to be held at the time you are here. I never heard of them before, and I presumed as a good many years since they were last celebrated. Praise, sir! pursued she, turning to Glanville. Do not these races in some degree resemble the Olympic Games? Do the candidates write in chariots? No, madam, replied Glanville. The jockeys are mounted upon the flitest courses they can procure, and he who first reaches the goal obtains the prize. And who is the fair lady that is to bestow it? resumed Arabella. I dare engage one of her lovers will enter the lists. She will, doubtless, be in no less anxiety than he. And the shame of being overcome will hardly affect him with more concern than herself. That is, provided he be so happy as to have gained her affections. I cannot help thinking that the fair Edda's Monda was extremely happy in this particular, for she had the satisfaction to see her secret admirer, Victor in all the exercises at the Olympic Games, and carry away the prize for many princes and persons of rare quality, who were candidates with him. And he had also the glory to receive three crowns in one day, from the hands of his adored princess, who, questionless, bestowed them upon him with an infinite deal of joy. What sort of races were these, madam? said Miss Glanville, whose reading had been very confined. The Olympic Games, Miss, said Arabella, so called from Olympia, a city near which they were performed, in the plains of Elis, consisted of foot-and-chariot races, combats with the Cestars, wrestling, and other sports. They were instituted in honour of the gods and heroes, and were therefore termed sacred, and were considered as part of religion. They were a kind of school or military apprenticeship, in which the courage of the youth found constant employment. And the reason why victory in those games was attended with such extraordinary applause, was that their minds might be quickened with the great and noble prospects, when, in this image of war, they arrived to a pitch of glory, approaching in some respects, to that of the most famous conquerors. They sought this sort of triumph with the greatest parts of happiness of which human nature was capable, so that, when Diagoras had seen his sons crowned in the Olympic Games, one of his friends made him this compliment. Now, Diagoras, you may die satisfied since you cannot be a god. It would tire you, perhaps, was I to describe all the exercises performed there, but you may form a general notion of them, from what you have doubtless read of justs and tournaments. Really, said Miss Glanville, I never read about any such things. No, replied Arabella surprised. Well, then, I must tell you, they hold a middle place between a diversion and a combat, but the Olympic Games were attended with a much greater pomp and variety, and not only all Greece, but other neighbouring nations were in a manner drained to furnish out the appearance. Well, for my part, said Miss Glanville, I never before heard of these sorts of races. Those that I have been at were it quite different. I know the prizes and the bets are sometimes very considerable. And doubtless, interrupted Arabella, there are a great many heroes who signalise themselves at these races, not for the sake of the prize, which would be unworthy of great selves, but to satisfy that burning desire of glory, which spurs them on to every occasion of gaining it. As for heroes or jockies, said Miss Glanville, call them what you please. I believe they have very little share, either of the prophet or glory, for their masters have the one and the horses the other. Their masters, were interrupted Arabella. What, I suppose? A great many foreign princes send their favourites to combat in their name. I remember to have read that Alcibiades triumphed three times successively at the Olympic Games, by means of one of his domestics who, in his master's name, entered the lists. Mr. Glanville, fearing his sister would make some absurd answer, and thereby disablige his cousin, took up the discourse, and, turning it upon the Grecian history, engrossed her conversation for two hours wholly to himself, while Miss Glanville, to whom all they said was quite unintelligible, diverted herself with humming a tune and tinkling her cousin's harpsichord, which proved no interruption to the more rational entertainment of her brother and Arabella. CHAPTER VIII Which concludes with an excellent moral sentence. The day being come on, which they designed to be present at the races, or, as Arabella called them, the Games, Miss Glanville, having spent four long hours in dressing herself to the greatest advantage, in order, if possible, to eclipse her lovely cousin, whose mourning, being much deeper, was less capable of ornaments, came into her chamber, and, finding her still in her mourning dress, for heaven's sake, Lady Bella, said she, when do you purpose to be ready? Why, it is almost time to be gone, my brother says, and here you are, not a bit dressed. Don't be uneasy, said Arabella, smiling, and going to her toilet. I shan't make you wait long. Miss Glanville, seating herself near the table, resolved to be present while her cousin was dressing, that she might have an opportunity to make some remarks to her disadvantage, but she was extremely mortified to observe the haste and negligence she made her women use in this important employment, and that, notwithstanding her indifference, nothing could appear more lovely and gentile. Miss Glanville, however, pleased herself with the certainty of seeing her cousin's dress extremely ridiculed, for the peculiar fashion of her gown, and the veil, which, as becoming as it was, would by its novelty occasion great diversion amongst the ladies, help to comfort her for the superiority of her charms, which, partial as she was to her own, she could not help secretly confessing. Arabella, being dressed in much less time than her cousin, Mr. Glanville was admitted, who led her down the stairs to her coach, which was waiting. His sister, secretly repining at the advantage Arabella had over her in having so respectful an adora, followed, and, being placed in the coach, they set out with great appearance of good humour on all sides. They got to, but just time enough to see the beginning of the first course. Arabella, who fancied the jockies with persons of great distinction, soon became interested in the fate of one of them, whose appearance pleased her more than the others. Accordingly, she made vows for his success, and if he had so extremely rejoiced at the advantage he had gained, that Miss Glanville maliciously told her, people would make remarks at the joy she expressed, and fancy she had more than an ordinary interest in the jockey, who had first reached the goal. Mr. Glanville, whom this impertinent insinuation of his sister had filled with confusion and spite, sat biting his lips, trembling for the effect it would produce in Arabella. But she, giving quite another turn to her cousin's words, I assure you, said she, with a smile, I am not any further interested in the fate of this person who has hitherto been successful than what the handsomeness of his garb and the superiority of his skill may demand from an unprejudiced spectator. And though I perceive you imagine he is some concealed lover of mine, yet I don't remember to have ever seen him. And I am confident it is not for my sake that he entered the lists, nor is it my presence which animates him. Lord bless me, madam, replied Miss Glanville, who would ever think of such strange things as these you talk of? Nobody will pretend to deny that you were very handsome to be sure, but yet, thank heaven, the sight of you is not so dangerous, but that such sort of people, as these are, may escape your chains. Arabella was so wholly taken up with the event of these races that she gave but very little heed to this sarcastic answer of Miss Glanville, whose brother, taking advantage of an opportunity which Arabella gave him by putting her head quite out of the coach, cheered her very severely for the liberty she took with her cousin. Arabella, by looking earnestly out of the window, had given so full a view of her fine person to a young baronet, who was not many paces from the coach, that, being struck with admiration at the sight of so lovely a creature, he was going up to some of her attendants to ask who she was, when he perceived Mr. Glanville, with whom he was intimately acquainted, in the coach with her. Immediately he made himself known to his friend, being excessively rejoiced at having got an opportunity of beginning an acquaintance with a lady whose sight had so charmed him. Mr. Glanville, who had observed the profound bow he made to Arabella, accompanied with a glance that showed an extreme admiration of her, was very little pleased at this meeting, yet he dissembled his thoughts well enough in his reception of him. But Miss Glanville was quite overjoyed, hoping she would now have her turn of gallantry and compliment. Therefore, accosting him in her free manner, Dear Sir George, said she, you come in a lucky time to brighten up the conversation. Relations are such dull company for one another, it is half a minute since we have exchanged a word. My cousin, said Arabella, smiling, has so strange a disposition for Murth, that she thinks all her moments are lost, in which she finds nothing to laugh at. For my part, I do so earnestly long to know, to which of these pretenders Fortune will give the victory, that I can suffer my cares for them to receive no interruption from my cousin's agreeable gaiety. Mr. Glanville, observing the baronet gazed upon Arabella earnestly while she was speaking those few words, resolved to hinder him from making any reply, by asking him several questions concerning the racers, their owners, and the bets which were laid. To which Arabella added, and pray, sir, said she, do me the favour to tell me, if you know who that gallant man is, who has already won the first course. I don't know really, madam, said Sir George, what his name is, extremely surprised at her manner of asking. But Jocky had now gained the goal a second time, and Arabella could not conceal her satisfaction. Questionless, said she, he is a very extraordinary person, but I am afraid we shall not have the pleasure of knowing who he is, for if he has any reason for keeping himself concealed, he will evade any inquiries after him by slipping out of the lists while this hurry and tumult lasts, as Quartensius did at the Olympic Games. Yet, notwithstanding all his care, he was discovered by being obliged to fight a single combat with one of the persons whom he had worsted at those games. Mr. Glanville, who saw his sister, by her little cockatries with Sir George, had prevented him from hearing great part of this odd speech, proposed returning to the castle, to which Arabella agreed. But conceiving civility obliged her to offer the convenience of a lodging to a stranger of Sir George's appearance and who was acquainted with her cousins. You must permit me, said she to Mr. Glanville, to entreat your noble friend will accompany us to the castle, where he will meet with better accommodations than at any inn he can find. For I conceive that, coming only to be a spectator of these games, he is wholly unprovided with a lodging. The baronet, surprised at so uncommon a civility, was at a loss what answered to make her at first. But, recollecting himself, he told her that he would, if she pleased, do him the honour to attend to her home. But as his house was no great distance from, he would be put to no inconvenience for a lodging. Miss Glanville, who was not willing to part so soon with the baronet, insisted with her cousin's leave upon his coming into the coach, which he accordingly did, giving his horse to the care of his servant, and they proceeded together to the castle. Arabella still continuing to talk of the games, as she called them, while Paul Glanville, who was excessively confused, endeavouring to change the discourse, not without an apprehension that every subject he could think of would afford Arabella an occasion of showing her foyable, which, notwithstanding the pain it gave him, could not lessen the love he felt for her. Sir George, whose admiration of Lady Bella increased the longer he saw her, was extremely pleased with the opportunity she had given him of cultivating an acquaintance with her. He therefore lengthened out his visit in hopes of being able to say some fine things to her before he went away. But Miss Glanville, who strove by all the little arts she was mistress of, to engage his conversation wholly to herself, put it absolutely out of his power, so that he was obliged to take his leave without having the satisfaction of even pressing the fair hand Arabella, so closely was he observed by her cousin. Happy it was for him that he was prevented by her vigilance from attempting a piece of gallantry which would undoubtedly have procured him a banishment from her presence. But, ignorant how kind fortune was to him in balking his designs, he was ungrateful enough to go away in a mighty ill humour with this fickle goddess. So little capable are poor mortals of knowing what is best for them. 9. Containing Some Curious Anecdotes Lady Bella, from the familiarity with which Miss Glanville treated this gay gentleman, concluding him her lover, and one who was apparently well received by her, had a strong curiosity to know her adventures. And as they were walking the next morning in the garden, she told her that she thought it was very strange they had hitherto observed, such a reserve to each other, as to banish mutual trust and confidence from their conversation. Once comes it, cousin, added she, Being so young and lovely as you are, that you, questionless, have been engaged in many adventures, you have never reposed trust enough in me to favour me with a recital of them. Engaged in many adventures, madam, returned Miss Glanville, not liking the phrase, I believe I have been engaged in as few as your ladyship. You are too obliging, returned Arabella, who mistook what she said for a compliment. For since you have more beauty than I, and have also had more opportunities of making yourself beloved, questionless you have a greater number of admirers. As for admirers, said Miss Charlotte, bridling, I fancy I have had my share. Thank God I have never found myself neglected, but I assure you, madam, I have had no adventures as you call them with any of them. No really, interrupted Arabella innocently, no really, madam, retorted Miss Glanville, and I am surprised you should think so. Indeed, my dear, said Arabella, you are very happy in this respect, and also very singular, for I believe there are few young ladies in this world who have my pretensions to beauty that have not given rise to a great many adventures, and some of them happily very fatal. If you knew more of the world, Lady Bella, said Miss Glanville pertly, you would not be so apt to think that young ladies engage themselves in troublesome adventures. Truly the ladies that are brought up in town are not so ready to run away with every man they see. No, certainly, interrupted Arabella, they do not give their consent to such proceedings, but for all that they are doubtless run away with many times, for truly there are some men whose passions are so unbridled, that they will have recourse to the most violent methods to possess themselves of the objects they love. Pray, do you remember how often Mondana was run away with? Not I indeed, madam, replied Miss Glanville, I know nothing about her, but I suppose she is a Jew by her outlandish name. She was no Jew, said Arabella, though she favored that people very much, for she obtained the liberty of great numbers of them from Cyrus, who had taken them captives, and could deny her nothing, she asked. Well, said Miss Glanville, and I suppose she denied him nothing he asked, and so they were even. Indeed, but she did, though, resumed Arabella, for she refused to give him a glorious scarf which she wore, though he begged it on his knees. Then she was very much in the right, said Miss Glanville, for I see no reason why a lover should expect a gift of any value from his mistress. Doubtless, said Arabella, such a gift was worthy a million of services, and had he obtained it, it would have been a glorious distinction for him. However, Mondana refused it, and, severely virtuous as you are, I am persuaded you can't help thinking she was a little too rigorous in denying a favor to a lover like him. Severely virtuous, Lady Bella, said Miss Glanville, coloring with anger. Pray, what do you mean by that? Have you any reason to imagine I would grant any favor to a lover? Why, if I did, cousin, said Arabella, would it derogate so much from your glory, thank you, to bestow a favor upon a lover worthy your esteem, and from whom you had received a thousand marks of a most pure and faithful passion, and also a great number of very singular services? I hope, madam, said Miss Glanville, it will never be my fate to be so much obliged to any lover as to be under a necessity of granting him favors in requital. I vow, cousin, interrupted Arabella, you put me in mind of the fair and virtuous Antonia, who was so rigid and austere that she thought all expressions of love were criminal, and was so far from granting any person permission to love her, that she thought a demoral offense to be adored even in private. Miss Glanville, who could not imagine Arabella spoke this seriously but that it was designed to sneer at her great eagerness to make conquests, and the liberties she allowed herself in, which had probably come to her knowledge, was so extremely vexed at the malicious jest, as she thought it, that, not being able to revenge herself, she burst into tears. Arabella's good nature made her be greatly affected at this site, and asking her pardon for having undesignedly occasioned her so much uneasiness, begged her to be composed, and tell her in what she had offended her, that she might be able to justify herself in her apprehensions. You have made no scruple to own, madam, said she, that you think me capable of granting favors to lovers when, heaven knows, I have never granted a kiss without a great deal of confusion. And you certainly had much reason for confusions, said Arabella, excessively surprised at such a confession. I assure you I never injured you so much in my thoughts, as to suppose you ever granted a favor of so criminal a nature. Look you there now, said Miss Glanville, weeping more violently than before. I knew what all your roundabout speeches would come to. All you have said in vindication of granting favors was only to draw me into a confession of what I have done. How ungenerous was that. The favors I spoke of, madam, said Arabella, were quite of another nature than those it seems you have so liberally granted, such as giving a scarf, a bracelet, or some such thing to a lover, who had happily sighed whole years in silence, and did not presume to declare his passion, till he had lost best part of his blood in defense of the fair one he loved. It was when you maintained that Mandana was in the right to refuse her magnificent scarf to the illustrious Cyrus, that I took upon me to oppose your rigidness. And so much mistaken was I in your temper, that I foolishly compared you to the fair and wise Antonia, whose severity was so remarkable. But really, by what I understand from your own confession, your disposition resembles that of the inconsiderate Julia, who had received a declaration of love without anger from anyone, and was not over shy any more than yourself, of granting favors almost as considerable as that you have mentioned. While Arabella was speaking, this glanville, having dried up her tears, sat silently swelling with rage, not knowing whether she should openly avow her resentment for the injurious language her cousin had used to her by going away immediately, or by making up the matter, appeared still to be her friend that she might have more opportunities of avenging herself. The impetuosity of her temper made her most inclined to the former, but the knowledge that Sir George was to stay yet some months in the country made her unwilling to leave a place where she might often see a man whose fine person had made some impression upon her heart. And not enduring to leave such a charming conquest to Arabella, she resolved to suppress her resentment for the present, and listened without any appearance of discomposure to the fine harangue of her cousin upon the necessity of reserve and distant behavior to men who presumed to declare themselves lovers, enforcing her precepts with examples drawn from all the romances she had ever read. At the end of which she embraced her and assured her, if she had said anything harsh, it proceeded from her great regard to her glory, of which she ardently wished to see her as fond as herself. Ms. Glanville constrained herself to make a reply that might not appear disagreeable, and they were upon these terms when Mr. Glanville came up to them, and told Lady Bella Sir George had sent to entreat their company at his house that day. But, added he, as I presume you will not think proper to go on account of your mourning, neither my sister nor I will accept the invitation. I dare say, interrupted Ms. Glanville hastily, Lady Bella would not expect such a needless piece of ceremony from us, and if she don't think proper to go she won't confine us. By no means cousin, said Arabella smiling, and being persuaded Sir George makes the entertainment purely for your sake, it would not be kind in me to deprive him of your company. Mr. Glanville, being pleased to find his cousin discovered no inclination to go, would have persuaded his sister not to leave Lady Bella, but Ms. Glanville looked so much displeased at his request that he was obliged to insist upon it no more, and, both retiring to dress, Lady Bella went up to her apartment and betook herself to her books, which supplied the place of all company to her. Ms. Glanville, having taken more than ordinary pains in dressing herself in order to appear charming in the eyes of Sir George, came in to pay her compliments to Lady Bella before she went. Not doubting, but she would be chagrin to see her look so well. But Lady Bella, on the contrary, praised the clearness of her complexion and the sparkling of her eyes. I question not, said she, but you will give fetters to more persons than one today, but remember I charge you, added she, smiling, while you are taking away the liberty of others to have a special care of your own. Ms. Glanville, who could not think it possible one woman could praise another with any sincerity, cast a glance at the glass, fearing it was rather because she looked but indifferently that her cousin was so lavish in her praises. And while she was setting her features in a mirror, which every day represented a face infinitely more lovely than her own, Mr. Glanville came in, who, after having very respectfully taken leave of Lady Bella, led his sister to the coach. Sir George, who was extremely mortified to find Lady Bella not in it, handed Ms. Glanville out with an air so reserved that she railied him upon it, and gave her brother a very unpleasing emotion, by telling Sir George she hoped Lady Bella's not coming along with them, would not make him bad company. As he was too gallant to suffer and handsome young lady, who spread all her attractions for him, to believe he regretted the absence of another when she was present, he coquetted with her so much that Mr. Glanville was in hopes his sister would wholly engage him from Lady Bella. Volume 1 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 1, by Charlotte Lennox. Book 2, Chapter 10, in which our heroine is engaged in a very perilous adventure. In the meantime, that solitary pharaohine was alarmed by a fear of a very unaccountable nature. For, being in the evening in her closet, the windows of which had a prospect of the gardens, she saw her illustrious concealed lover, who went by the name of Edward while he was in her father's service, talking with great emotion to her house steward, who seemed earnestly to listen to some propositions he was making to him. Her surprise at this sight was so great, that she had not power to observe them any longer. But, seating herself in her chair, she had just spirits enough to call Lucy to her assistance, who, extremely frightened at the pale looks of her lady, gave her a smelling-bottle, and was preparing to cut her lace when Arabella, preventing her, told her in a low voice, that she feared she should be betrayed into the hands of an insolent lover, who was come to steal her away. Yes, added she with great emotion, I have seen this presumptuous man holding a conversation with one of my servants, and though I could not possibly at this distance hear their discourse, yet the gestures they used in speaking explained it too well to me, and I have reason to expect I shall suffer the same violence that many illustrious ladies have done before me, and be carried away by force from my own house as they were. Alas, madam, said Lucy, terrified at this discourse, who is it that intends to carry your ladyship away? Sure no, robbers will attempt any mischief at such a time as this. Yes, Lucy, replied Arabella with great gravity. The worst kind of robbers, robbers who do not pray upon golden jewels, but what is infinitely more precious, liberty and honor. Do you know that person who called himself Edward, and worked in these gardens like a common gardener, is now in the house corrupting my servants, and questionless, preparing to force open my chamber and carry me away? And heaven knows when I shall be delivered from his chains. God forbid, said Lucy, sobbing, that ever such a lady should have such hard hap, what crime I wonder can you be guilty of to deserve to be in chains. My crime, resumed Arabella, is to have attractions which expose me to these inevitable misfortunes, which even the greatest princesses have not escaped, but, dear Lucy, can you not think of some methods by which I may avoid the evil which awaits me? Who knows but that he may, within these few moments, force a passage into my apartment. These slight locks can make but a poor resistance to the violence he will be capable of using. Oh, dear madam, cried Lucy, trembling, and pressing near her, what shall we do? I asked your advice, said she, but I perceive you are less able than myself to think of anything to save me. Ah, Glanville, pursued she, sighing, would to heaven thou word here now. Yes, madam, said Lucy, Mr. Glanville I am sure would not suffer anyone to hurt your ladyship. As thou valuest my friendship, said Arabella, with great earnestness, never acquainted him with what has just now escaped my lips. True, I did call upon him in this perplexity. I did pronounce his name, and that happily with a sigh, which involuntarily forced its way. And questionless, if he knew his good fortune, even amidst the danger of losing me forever, he would resent some emotions of joy. But I should die with shame at having so indiscreetly contributed to his satisfaction. And therefore again I charge you, conceal, with the utmost care, what I have said. Indeed, madam, said Lucy, I shall tell him nothing but what your ladyship bids me. And I am so frighted that I can think of nothing but that terrible man that wants to carry you away. Mercy on us, added she, starting. I think I hear somebody on the stairs. Do not be alarmed, said Arabella, in a majestic tone. It is I who have most reason to fear. Nevertheless, I hope the grandeur of my courage will not sink under this accident. Hark! Somebody knocks at the door of my antechamber. My own virtue shall support me. Go, Lucy, and ask who it is. Indeed I can't, madam, said she, clinging to her. Pray pardon me. Indeed I am so afraid I cannot stir. Weeks old wench, said Arabella, how unfit heart thou for accidents like these. Ah, had Selenia and Nartisia been like thee, the fair Baroness and the Divine Princess of Media had not so eagerly entreated their ravishers to afford them their company and their captivity. But go, I order you, and ask who it is that is at the door of my apartments. They knock again. Offer at no excuses, but do your duty. Lucy, seeing her lady was really angry, went trembling out of the closet, but would go no farther than her bedchamber from whence she called out to know who was at the door. I have some business with your lady, said the house steward, for it was he that knocked. Can I speak with her at present? Lucy, a little reassured by his voice, made no answer, but, creeping softly to the door of the antechamber, double locked it, and then cried out in a transport, No, I will take care you shall not come to my lady. And why, pray, Mrs. Lucy, said the steward, what have I done that you are so much my enemy? You are a rogue, said Lucy, growing very courageous because the door was locked between them. A rogue, said he, what reason have you for calling me a rogue? I assure you I will acquaint my lady with your insolence. I came to speak to her ladyship about Edward, who prayed me to intercede for him that he may be again taken into her service, for he says my lady never believed anything against him, and that was my business. But when I see her, I'll know whether you are allowed to abuse me in this manner. Arabella by this time was advanced as far as the bedchamber, longing to know what sort of conference Lucy was holding with her intended ravisher. When that faithful confidant, seeing her, came running to her and whispered her that the house steward was at the door and said he wanted to intercede for Edward. Ah, the traitor, said Arabella, retiring again. Has he then really bargained with that disloyal man to deliver up his mistress? I am undone, Lucy, said she, unless I can find a way to escape out of the house. They will questionless soon force the doors of my apartment. Suppose, said Lucy, your ladyship went down the stairs that lead from your dressing room into the garden, and you may hide yourself in the gardener's house till Mr. Glanville comes. I approve, said Arabella, of one part of your proposal, but I shall not trust myself in the gardener's house, who, questionless, is in the plot with the rest of my perfidious servants, since none of them have endeavored to advertise me of my danger. If we can gain the gardens undiscovered, we may get out by that door at the foot of the terrace, which leads into the fields, for you know I always keep the key of that private door. So, Lucy, let us commend ourselves to the direction of Providence, and be gone immediately. But what shall we do, madam, said Lucy, when we are got out? Why, said Arabella, you shall conduct me to your brothers, and probably we may meet with some generous cavalier by the way, who will protect us till we get thither. However, as I have as great a danger to fear within doors as without, I will venture to make my escape, though I should not be so fortunate as to meet with any knight who will undertake to protect me from the danger which I may apprehend in the fields. Saying this, she gave the key of the door to Lucy, whose heart beat violently with fear, and covering herself with some black cypress, which she wore in the nature of a veil, went softly down the little staircase to the terrace, followed by Lucy, who looked eagerly about her every step that she went, and having gained the garden door, hastily unlocked it and fled, as fast as possible, across the fields in order to procure a sanctuary at William's house. Arabella, begging heaven to throw some generous cavalier in her way, whose protection she might implore, and taking every tree at a distance for a horse and knight, hastened her steps to meet her approaching succor, which as soon as she came near, miserably balked her expectations. Though William's farm was not more than two miles from the castle, yet Arabella, unused to such a rude way of traveling, began to be greatly fatigued. The fear she was in of being pursued by her apprehended ravisher had so violent an effect upon her spirits that she was hardly able to prosecute her flight, and to complete her misfortunes, happening to stumble over a stump of a tree that lay in her way, she strained her ankle, and the violent anguish she felt threw her into a swoon. Lucy, upon whose arm she leaned, perceiving her fainting, screamed out loud, not knowing what to do with her in that condition. She placed her upon the ground, and supporting her head against that fatal stump began to rub her temples, weeping excessively all the time. Her swoon still continuing, the poor girl was in inconceivable terror. Her brother's house was now but a little way off, but it being impossible for her to carry her lady thither without some help, she knew not what to resolve upon. At length, thinking it better to leave her for a few moments to run for assistance than to sit by her and see her perish for want of it, she left her, though not without extreme agony, and flew with the utmost eagerness to her brothers. She was lucky enough to meet him just coming out of his door, and telling him the condition in which she left her lady, he, without asking any questions about the occasion of so strange an accident, notwithstanding his amazement, ran with all speed to the place where Lucy had left her, but to their astonishment and sorrow she was not to be found. They walked a long time in search of her, and Lucy, being almost distracted with fear, lest she had been carried away, made complaints that so puzzled her brother that he knew not what to say to her. But finding their search fruitless, they agreed to go home to the castle, supposing, with some appearance of reason, that they might hear of her there. Here they found nothing but grief and confusion. Mr. Glanville and his sister were just returned, and had been at Lady Bella's apartment, but not finding her there, they asked her women where she was, who, not knowing anything of her flight, concluded she was in the garden with Lucy. Mr. Glanville, surprised at her being at that hour in the garden, ran eagerly to engage her to come in, being apprehensive she would take cold, by staying so late in the air. But not finding her in any of her usual walks, he ordered several of the servants to assist him in searching the whole garden, sending them to different places, but they all returned without success, which filled him with the utmost consternation. He was returning, excessively uneasy, to the house, when he saw Lucy, who had been just told in answer to her inquiries about her lady, that they were gone to look for her in the garden, and running up to Mr. Glanville, who hoped to hear news of Lady Bella from her, oh, sir, said she, is my lady found? What, Lucy? said Mr. Glanville, more alarmed than before, do not you know where she is? I thought you had been with her. Oh, dear, cried Lucy, wringing her hands, for certain my poor lady was stolen away while she was in that fainting fit. Sir, said she to Glanville, I know who the person is that my lady said, and almost broke my heart would keep her in chains. He was in the house not many hours ago. Mr. Glanville, suspecting this with some new whim of Arabella's, would not suffer Lucy to say any more before the servants, who stood gaping with astonishment at the strange things she uttered, but bid her follow him to his apartment, and he would hear what she could inform him concerning this accident. He would, if possible, have prevented his sister from being present at the story, but not being able to form any excuse for not suffering her to hear everything that related to her cousin, they all three went into his chamber, where he desired Lucy to tell him what she knew about her lady. You must know, sir, said Lucy, sobbing, that there came a man here to take away my lady, a great man he is though he worked in the gardens, for he was in love with her, and so he would not own who he was. And pray, interrupted Mr. Glanville, who told you he was a great man, as you say. My lady told me, said Lucy, but how some ever he was turned away, for the gardener says he catched him stealing carp. A very great man indeed, said Mr. Glanville, that would steal carp. You must know, madam, said she, that was only a pretense, for he went there, my lady says, to drown himself. Bless me, cried Mr. Glanville, laughing. The girls distracted, sure. Lord, brother, don't listen to her nonsensical tales, we shall never find my cousin by her. Leave her to me, said Mr. Glanville, whispering, perhaps I may discover something by her discourse that will give us some light into this affair. Nay, I'll stay, I am resolved, answered she, for I long to know where my cousin is, though do you think what this girl says is true about a great man disguised in the gardens? Sure, my cousin could never tell her such stuff. But now I think of it, added she. Lady Bella, when we were speaking about the jockey, talked something about a lover. I now believe it is as the girl says. Pray, let's hear her out. Mr. Glanville was ready to die with vexation, at the charmer of his souls being thus exposed, but there was no help for it. Pray, said he to Lucy, tell us no more about this man. But if you can guess where your lady is, let me know. Indeed I can't, sir, said she, for my lady and I both stole out of the house, for fear Edward should break open the doors of her apartment, and we were running as fast as possible to my brother's house, where she said she would hide herself till you came. But my poor dear lady fell down and hurt herself so much that she fainted away. I tried what I could to fetch her again, but she did not open her eyes, so I ran like lightning to my brother to come and help me to carry her to the farm, but when we came back she was gone. What do you say? cried Mr. Glanville with a distracted look. Did you leave her in that condition in the fields? And was she not to be found when you came back? No, indeed, sir, said Lucy, weeping. We could not find her, though we wandered about a long time. O heavens, said he, walking about the room in a violent emotion, where can she be? What has become of her? Dear sister, pursued he, order someone to saddle my horse. I'll traverse the country all night in quest of her. You had best inquire, sir, said Lucy, if Edward is in the house. He knows, maybe, where my lady is. Who is he? cried Glanville. Why, the great man, sir, said Lucy, whom we thought to be a gardener, who came to carry my lady away, which made her get out of the house as fast as she could. This is the stranger's story, said Miss Glanville, that I ever heard. Sure nobody would be so mad to attempt such an action. My cousin has the oddest whims. Mr. Glanville, not able to listen any longer, charged Lucy to say nothing of this matter to anyone, and then ran eagerly out of the room, ordering two or three of the servants to go in search of their lady. He then mounted his horse in great anguish of mind, not knowing whether to direct his course.