 CHAPTER XIV. How much will you be surprised, my dearest sir, at receiving another letter from London of your ever-liners' writing? But believe me, it was not my fault—neither is it my happiness that I am still here. Our journey has been postponed by an accident equally unexpected and disagreeable. We went last night to see the Vanticini, where we heard infinite entertainment from the performance of a little comedy in French and Italian, by puppets, so admirably managed, but they both astonished and diverted us all—except the captain, who has affixed and most prejudiced hatred of whatever is not English. When it was over, while we waited for the coach, a tall elderly woman brushed quickly past us, calling out, "'My God, what shall I do?' "'Why, what would you do?' cried the captain. "'Ma foie, monsieur,' answered she, "'I have lost my company, and in this place I don't know nobody.' There was something foreign in her accent, though it was difficult to discover whether she was an English or a Frenchwoman. She was very well-dressed, and seemed so entirely at a loss what to do, that Mrs. Mervyn proposed to the captain to assist her. "'A sister,' cried he, "'I, with all my heart, let a link-boy call her a coach.' There was not one to be had, and it rained very fast. "'Mondieu,' exclaimed the stranger, "'what shall become of me? She is Swiss or disses-bois.' "'Dear sir,' cried Mrs. Mervyn, "'pray, let us take the poor lady into our coach. She is quite alone, and a foreigner.' "'She is never the better for that,' answered he. "'She may be a woman of the town for anything you know.' "'She does not appear such,' said Mrs. Mervyn, "'and indeed, she seems so much distressed, that we shall but follow the golden rule, if we carry her to her lodgings. "'You are mighty fond of new acquaintance,' returned he. "'But first, let us know if she be going our way.' "'Upon inquiry, we found that she lived in Oxford Road, and after some disputing, the captain, surly, and with very bad grace, consented to admit her into his coach, though he soon convinced us that he was determined she should not be too much obliged to him, for he seemed absolutely bent upon quarrelling with her, for which strange inhospitality I can assign no other reason, than that she appeared to be a foreigner.' The conversation began by her telling us that she had been in England only two days, that the gentleman belonging to her were Parisians, and had left her to see for a hackney-coach, as her own carriage was abroad, and that she had waited for them till she was quite frightened, and concluded that they had lost themselves. "'And pray,' said the captain, "'why did you go to a public place without an Englishman?' "'Muff-voir, sir,' answered she, "'because none of my acquaintances is in town.' "'Why, then?' said he, "'I'll tell you what, your best way is to go out of it yourself.' "'Pardon, monsieur,' returned she, "'and so I shall, for I promise you, I think the English epistle of Brutes, and I'll go back to France as fast as I can, for I would not live among none of you.' "'Who wants you?' cried the captain. "'Do you suppose, madame French, we have not enough of other nations to pick our pockets already. I'll warrant you, there's no need for you for to put in your awe.' "'Pick your pockets, sir. I wish nobody wanted to pick your pockets no more than I do, and I'll promise you you'd be safe enough. But there's no nation under the sun can beat the English for impoliteness. For my part I hate the very sight of them, and so I shall only just visit the person of quality or two of my particular acquaintance, and then I shall go back again to France.' "'I do,' cried he, "'and then go to the devil together, for that's the fittest voyage for the French and the quality.' "'We'll take care, however,' cried the stranger with great vehemence, "'not to admit none of your vulgar unmannered English among us.' "'Oh, never fear,' returned he coolly. "'We shan't dispute the point with you. You and the quality may have the devil all to yourselves.' Desirous of changing the subject of conversation which now became very alarming, Miss Mervyn called out, "'Lord, how slow the man drives!' "'Never mind, Maul,' said her father, "'I'll warrant you, he'll drive fast enough to-morrow, when you are going to Howard Grove.' "'To Howard Grove?' exclaimed the stranger. "'Why, mon Dieu, do you know Lady Howard?' "'Why, what if we do?' "'Answer thee. That's nothing to you. She's none of your quality. I'll promise you.' "'Who told you that?' cried she. "'You don't know nothing about the matter. "'Besides, you're the ill-bredest person I ever I see, and as to your knowing Lady Howard, I don't believe no such a thing, unless indeed you are her steward.' The captain, swearing terribly, said with great fury, "'You would much sooner be taken for her washwoman.'" "'Her washwoman, indeed! Ha-ha! Why, you ain't no eyes! Did you ever see a washwoman in such a gown as this? Besides, I am no such mean person, for I am as good as Lady Howard, and as rich too, and besides, I am now come to England to visit her.' "'You may spare yourself that there trouble,' said the captain. "'She has paupers enough about her already.' "'Paupers, mister? No more a pauper than yourself? "'Nor so much nicer. But you are a low, dirty fellow, and I shan't stoop to take no more notice of you.'" "'Dirty fellow!' exclaimed the captain, seizing both her wrists. "'Hark, you, Mrs. Frog, you'd best hold your tongue, for I must make bold to tell you, if you don't, that I shall make no ceremony of tripping you out of the window, and there you may lie in the mud till some of your monseers come to help you out of it.' Their increasing passion quite terrified us, and Mrs. Mervyn was beginning to remonstrate with the captain when we were all silenced by what follows. "'Let me go, villain that you are, let me go, or I'll promise you I'll get you put to prison for this usurge. I am no common person, I assure you, and ma foie, I'll go to the justice-fielding about you, for I am a person of fashion, and I'll make you know it, or my name, and duval.'" I heard no more. Amazed, frightened, and unspeakably shocked, an involuntary exclamation of, "'Great is heaven,' escaped me, and more dead than alive, I sunk into Mrs. Mervyn's arms. But let me draw veil over a scene too cruel for a heart so compassionately tender as yours, it is sufficient that you know this supposed foreigner proved to be Madame Duval, the grandmother of your ever-liner. Oh, sir, to discover so near a relation in a woman who had thus introduced herself, what would become of me were it not for you, my protector, my friend, and my refuge? My extreme concern, and Mrs. Mervyn's surprise, immediately betrayed me, but I will not shock you with the manner of her acknowledging me, or the bitterness, the grossness, I cannot otherwise express myself, with which she spoke of those unhappy past transactions you have so pathetically related to me. All the misery of a much-injured parent, dear, though never seen, regretted, though never known, crowded so forcibly upon my memory that they rendered this interview, one only accepted, the most afflicting I can ever know. When we stopped at her lodgings, she desired me to accompany her into the house, and said she could easily procure a room for me to sleep in. Alarmed and trembling, I turned to Mrs. Mervyn. "'My daughter, madam,' said that sweet woman, "'cannot so abruptly part with her young friend. You must allow a little time to wean them from each other.' "'Pardon me, ma'am,' answered Madame Duval, who, from the time of her being known, somewhat softened her manners. Miss Cunt's possibly be so nearly connected to this child as I am.' "'No matter for that,' cried the captain, who espoused my cause to satisfy his own peak, though an awkward apology had passed between them. She was sent to us, and so do you see, we don't choose what to part with her.' I promised to wait upon her at what time she pleased the next day, and after a short debate, she desired me to breakfast with her, and we proceeded to Queen Anne Street. What an unfortunate adventure! I could not close my eyes the whole night. A thousand times I wished I had never left Berry Hill. However, my return thither shall be accelerated to the utmost of my power, and once more in that abode of tranquil happiness, I will suffer no temptation to allure me elsewhere. Mrs. Mervyn was so kind as to accompany me to Madame Duval's house this morning. The captain, too, offered his service, which I declined, from a fear that she should suppose I meant to insult her. She frowned most terribly upon Mrs. Mervyn, but she received me with as much tenderness as I believe she is capable of feeling. Indeed, our meeting seems really to have affected her. For when, overcome by the variety of emotions which the sight of her occasioned, I almost fainted in her arms. She burst into tears and said, "'Let me not lose my poor daughter a second time.'" This unexpected humanity softened me extremely, but she very soon excited my warmest indignation, but the ungrateful mention she made of the best of men, my dear and most generous benefactor. However, grief and anger mutually gave way to terror. Upon her revowing, the intention of her visiting England was to make me return with her to France. This, she said, was a plan she had formed from the instant she had heard of my birth, which, she protested, did not reach her ears till I must have been twelve years of age. But Monsieur du Roil, who she declared was the worst husband in the world, would not permit her to do anything she wished. He had been dead but three months, which had been employed in arranging certain affairs that were no sooner settled, than she set off for England. She was already out of mourning, for she said nobody here could tell how long she had been a widow. She must have been married very early in life. What her age is, I do not know. But she really looks to be less than fifty. She dresses very gaily, paints very high, and the traces of former beauty are still very visible in her face. I do not know when, or how, this visit would have ended, had not the captain called for Mrs. Mervin and absolutely assisted upon my attending her. He has become, very suddenly, so warmly my friend, that I quite dread his officiousness. Mrs. Mervin, however, whose principal study seems to be healing those wounds which her husband inflicts, appeased Madame Duvall's wrath by a very polite invitation to drink tea and spend the evening here. Not without great difficulty was the captain prevailed upon to defer his journey some time longer. But what could be done? It would have been indecent for me to have quitted town the very instant I discovered that Madame Duvall was in it, and have stayed here solely under her protection. Mrs. Mervin, thank heaven, was too kind for such a thought. That she should follow us to Howard Grove, I almost equally dreaded. It is therefore determined that we remain in London for some days, or a week, though the captain has declared that the old French hag, as he is pleased to call her, shall fare never the better for it. My only hope is to get safe to Berryhill, where, counseled and sheltered by you, I shall have nothing more to fear. Do you, my ever dear and most honoured sir, I shall have no happiness till I am again with you. End of Letter 14 In the belief and hope that my ever-lion of wood ere now had bid adieu to London, I had intended to have deferred riding till I heard of her return to Howard Grove. But the letter I have this moment received, with intelligence of Madame Duvall's arrival in England, demands an immediate answer. Her journey hither equally grieves and alarms me. How much did I pity my child when I read of a discovery at once so unexpected and unwished? I have long dreaded this meeting and its consequence. To claim you seems naturally to follow acknowledging you. I am well acquainted with her disposition and have for many years foreseen the contests which now threatens us. Cruel as are the circumstances of this affair, you must not my love suffer to depress your spirits. Remember that while life is like me, I will devote it to your service, and for future time I will make such provisions as shall seem to me most conducive to your future happiness. Secure my protection, and relying on my tenderness, let no apprehensions of Madame Duvall disturb your peace. Conduct yourself towards her with all the respect and deference due to some neural relation, remembering always that the failure of duty on her part can by no means justify any neglect on yours. Indeed, the more forcibly you are struck with improprieties and misconduct in another, the greater should be your observance and diligence to avoid even the shadow of similar errors. Be careful, therefore, that no remissness of attention, no indifference of obliging, make known to her the independence I assure you of. But when she fixes the time for her leaving England, trust to me the task of refusing your attending her. As agreeable to myself, I own it will be. Yet to you it would be improper, if not impossible. In regard to her opinion of me, I am more sorry than surprised at her determined blindness. The paliation which she feels the want of for her own conduct leads her to seek for failings in all who are concerned in those unhappy transactions which she has so much reason to lament. This, as it is the cause, so we must in some measure consider it as the excuse of her inveteracy. How grateful to me are your wishes to return to Berry Hill. Your length in St. London, and the dissipation in which I find you are involved, fill me with uneasiness. I mean not, however, that I would have you sequester yourself from the party to which you belong, since Mrs. Mervyn might fence in for a reproof which her youth and her kindness would render inexcusable. I will not therefore enlarge upon this subject, but content myself with telling you that I shall heartily rejoice when I hear of your safe arrival at Howard Grove, for which place I hope you will be preparing at the time you receive this letter. I cannot too much thank you, my best of Alina, for the minuteness of your communications. Continue to me this indulgence, for I should be miserable if in ignorance of your proceedings. How new to you is the scene of life in which you are engaged. Balls, plays, operas, radotos. Ah, my child, at your return hither, how will you bear the change? My heart trembles for your future tranquility. Yet I will hope everything from the unsullied whiteness of your soul and the native liveliness of your disposition. I am sure I need not say how much more I was pleased with the mistakes of your inexperience at the private ball than with the attempted adoption of more fashionable manners at the Rodoto. But your confusion and mortifications were such as to entirely silence all reproofs on my part. I hope you will see no more of Sir Clement Willoughby, whose conversation and boldness are extremely disgustful to me. I was gratified by the good nature of Lord Orville upon your making use of his name, but I hope you will never again put her to such a trial. Heaven bless thee, my dear child, and grant that neither misfortune nor vice may ever rob thee of that gaiety of heart which resulting from innocence, while it constitutes your own, contributes also to the felicity of all who know you. Arthur Villars. End of Letter 15 Before our dinner was over yesterday, Madame Duvall came to tea, though it will lessen your surprise to hear that it was near five o'clock, for we never dine till the day is almost over. She was asked into another room while the table was cleared, and then was invited to partake of the dessert. She was attended by a French gentleman, whom she introduced by the name of Monsieur Dubois. Mrs. Mervin received them both with her usual politeness, but the captain looked very much displeased, and after a short silence, very sternly said to Madame Duvall, Pray, who asked you to bring that there spark with you? Oh! cried she, I never go nowhere without him. Another short silence ensued, which was terminated by the captain's turning roughly to the foreigner, and saying, Do you know, mon seer, that you are the first Frenchman I ever let come into my house? Monsieur Dubois made a profound bow. He speaks no English, and understands it so imperfectly, that he might possibly imagine he had received a compliment. Mrs. Mervin endeavoured to divert the captain's ill-humour by starting new subjects, but he left to her all the trouble of supporting them, and lent back in his chair in gloomy silence, except when any opportunity offered of uttering some sarcasm upon the French. Finding her efforts to render the evening agreeable were fruitless, Mrs. Mervin proposed a party to ran a la. Madame Duvall joyfully consented to it, and the captain, though he railed against the dissipation of the women, did not oppose it, and therefore Mariah and I ran upstairs to dress ourselves. Before we were ready, word was brought us that Sir Clement Willoughby was in the drawing-room. He introduced himself under the pretence of inquiring after all our healths, and entered the room with the easy air of an old acquaintance. Though Mrs. Mervin confessed that he seemed embarrassed when he found how coldly he was received, not only by the captain, but by herself. I was extremely disconcerted at the thoughts of seeing this man again, and did not go downstairs till I was called to tea. He was then deeply engaged in a discourse upon French manners with Madame Duvall and the captain, and the subject seemed so entirely to engross him that he did not at first observe my entrance into the room. Their conversation was supported with great vehemence, the captain roughly maintaining the superiority of English in every particular, and Madame Duvall warmly refusing to allow of it in any, while Sir Clement exerted all his powers of argument and of ridicule to second and strengthen whatever was advanced by the captain, for he had the sagacity to discover that he could take no method so effectual for making the master of the house's friend, as to make Madame Duvall his enemy, and indeed, in a very short time, he had reason to congratulate himself upon his successful discernment. As soon as he saw me, he made a most respectful bow, and hoped I had not suffered from the fatigue of the redotto. I made no other answer than a slight inclination of the head, for I was very much ashamed of that whole affair. He then returned to the disputance, where he managed the argument so skillfully, at once provoking Madame Duvall, and delighting the captain, that I could not forbear admiring his address, although I condemned his subtlety. Mrs. Mervyn, dreading such violent antagonists, attempted frequently to change the subject, and she might have succeeded but for the interposition of Sir Clement, who would not suffer it to be given up, and supported it with such humour and satire, that he seemed to have won the captain's heart, though their united forces so enraged and overpowered Madame Duvall, that she really trembled with passion. I was very glad when Mrs. Mervyn said it was time to be gone. Sir Clement arose to take leave, but the captain very cordially invited him to join our party. He had an engagement, he said, but would give it up to have that pleasure. Some little confusion ensued in regard to our manner of setting off. Mrs. Mervyn offered Madame Duvall a place in her coach, and proposed that we four females should go all together. However, this she rejected, declaring she would by no means go so far without a gentleman, and wondering so polite a lady could make so English a proposal. Sir Clement Willoughby said, his chariot was waiting at the door, and begged to know if it could be of any use. It was at last decided that a hackney-coach should be called for Monsieur Dubois and Madame Duvall, in which the captain—and, at his request, Sir Clement—went also. Mrs. and Miss Mervyn and I had a peaceful and comfortable ride by ourselves. I doubt not, but they quarrelled all the way, for when we met at Rannela, everyone seemed out of humour, and though we joined parties, poor Madame Duvall was avoided as much as possible by all but me. The rum was so very much crowded, that but for the uncommon aciduity of Sir Clement Willoughby, we should not have been able to procure a box—which is the name given to the arched recesses that are appropriated for tea parties—till half the company had retired. As we were taking possession of our places, some ladies of Mrs. Mervyn's acquaintance stopped to speak to her, and persuaded her to take a round with them. When she returned to us, what was my surprise, to see that Lord Orville had joined her party? The ladies walked on. Mrs. Mervyn seated herself, and made a slight, though respectful, invitation to Lord Orville to drink his tea with us, which, to my no small consternation, he accepted. I felt a confusion unspeakable at again seeing him, from the recollection of the Rodoto adventure. Nor did my situation lessen it, for I was seated between Madame Duvall and Sir Clement, who seemed as little as myself to desire Lord Orville's presence. Indeed, the continual wrangling and ill-breeding of Captain Mervyn and Madame Duvall made me blush that I belonged to them, and poor Mrs. Mervyn and her amiable daughter had still less reason to be satisfied. A general silence ensued after he was seated. His appearance, from different motives, gave a universal restraint to everybody. What his own reasons were for honouring us with his company, I cannot imagine, unless indeed he had a curiosity to know whether I should invent any new impertinence concerning him. The first speech was made by Madame Duvall, who said, It's quite the shocking thing to see ladies come to so gentile a place as Rannela with hats on. It has a monstrous, vulgar look. I can't think what they wear them for. There is no such thing to be seen in Paris." Indeed! cried Sir Clement. I must own myself no advocate for hats. I am sorry the ladies ever invented or adopted so tantalising a fashion, for where there is beauty, they only serve to shade it, and where there is none, to excite a most unavailing curiosity. I fancy they were originally worn by some young and whimsical coquette. More likely," answered the captain, they were invented by some wrinkled old hag, who demined for to keep the young fellows in chase, let them be never so weary. I don't know what you may do in England," cried Madame Duvall, but I know in Paris no woman needs to be at such a trouble as that, to be taken very gentile notice of. Why, will you pretend for to say," returned the captain, that they don't distinguish the old from the young there as well as here? They don't make no distinguishments at all," said she, their vastly too polite. More fools they," cried the captain, sneeringly. Would to heaven, cried Sir Clement, that for our own sakes we Englishmen too were blessed with so accommodating a blindness. Why the devil do you make such a prayer as that?" demanded the captain. Them are the first foolish words I've heard you speak, but I suppose you're not much used to that sort of work. Did you ever make a prayer before, since you were a sniveller? I now," cried Madame Duvall. That's another of the unpalightnesses of you English, to go to talking of such things as that. Now in Paris nobody never says nothing about religion, nor more than about politics. Why then? answered he. It's a sign they take no more care of their souls than of their country, and so both one and other go to old Nick. Well, if they do," said she, who's the worse, so long as they don't say anything about it? It's a tiresome thing in the world to be always talking of them sort of things, and nobody that's ever been abroad troubles their heads about some. Pray then," cried the captain, since you know so much of the matter, be so good as to tell us what they do trouble their heads about. Hey, Sir Clement, hadn't we a right to know that much? A very comprehensive question," said Sir Clement, and I expect much instruction from the lady's answer. Come, Madame," continued the captain, never flinch, speak at once, don't stop for thinking. I assure you I am not going," answered she, for as to what they do do, when they've enough to do, I promise you, but with one thing or another. But what, what do they do, these famous monseers? demanded the captain. Can't you tell us? Do they game, or drink, or fiddle, or are they jockeys, or do they spend all their time in flummering old women? As to that, sir. But indeed I shan't trouble myself to answer such a parcel of low questions, so don't ask me no more about it. And then, to my great vexation, turning to Lord Orville, she said, Pray, sir, was you ever in Paris? He only bowed. And pray, sir, how did you like it? This comprehensive question, as Sir Clement would have called it, though it made him smile, also made him hesitate. However, his answer was expressive of his approbation. I thought you would like it, sir, because you look so like a gentleman. As to the captain, and as to that other gentleman, why, they may very well not like what they don't know. For I suppose, sir, you was never abroad. Only three years, ma'am," answered Sir Clement, dryly. Well, that's very surprising. I should never have sought it. However, I dare say you only kept company with the English. Why, pray, who should he keep company with? cried the captain. What I suppose you'd have am ashamed of his own nation, like some other people not a thousand miles off, on purpose to make his own nation ashamed of him. I'm sure it would be a very good thing if you'd go abroad yourself. How will you make that out, hey, madam? Come, please, to tell me—where would be the good of that? Where? Why, a great deal. They'd make quite another person of you. What, I suppose you'd have me to learn to cut capers, and dress like a monkey, and plover and French gibberish, hey, would you, and powder and daub and make myself up like some other folks? I would have you learn to be more polite, sir, and not to talk to ladies in such a rude old-fashioned way as this. You, sir, as I've been in Paris—again addressing herself to Lord Orville— can tell this English gentleman how he'd be despised, if he was to talk in such an ungentil manner as this before any foreigners. Why, there isn't a hairdresser, nor a shoemaker, nor nobody, that wouldn't blush to be in your company. Why, lookie, madam," answered the captain, as to your hair-pinches and shoe-blacks, you may puff off their manners and welcome, and I am heartily glad you like them so well. But as to me, since you must needs make so free of your advice, I must even tell you I never kept company with any such gentry. Come, ladies and gentlemen," said Mrs. Mervyn, as many of you as have done tea, I invite you to walk with me. Mariah and I started up instantly, Lord Orville followed, and I questioned whether we were not half round the room, and the angry disputants knew that we had left the box. As the husband of Mrs. Mervyn had borne so large a share in the disagreeable altercation, Lord Orville forbore to make any comments upon it, so that the subject was immediately dropped, and the conversation became calmly sociable and politely cheerful, and to everybody but me must have been highly agreeable. But as to myself, I was so eagerly desirous of making some apology to Lord Orville, for the impertinence of which he must have thought me guilty at the redotto, and yet so utterly unable to assume sufficient courage to speak to him, concerning an affair in which I had so terribly exposed myself, that I hardly ventured to say a word all the time we were walking. Besides, the knowledge of his contemptuous opinion haunted and dispirited me, and made me fair, he might possibly misconstrue whatever I should say. So that, far from enjoying a conversation which might, at any other time, have delighted me, I continued silent, uncomfortable, and ashamed. Oh, sir, shall I ever again involve myself in so foolish an embarrassment? I am sure that, if I do, I shall deserve greater mortification. We were not joined by the rest of the party till he had taken three or four turns about the room, and then they were so quarrelsome that Mrs. Mervyn complained of being fatigued and proposed going home. No one dissented. Lord Orville joined another party, having first made an offer of his services, which the gentleman declined, and we proceeded to an outward rum, where we waited for the carriages. It was settled that we should return to town in the same manner we came to Ranala, and accordingly, Monsieur Dubois handed Madame Duvall into a hackney-coach, and was just preparing to follow her, when she screamed, and jumped hastily out, declaring she was wet through all her clothes. Indeed, upon examination, the coach was found to be in a dismal condition, for the weather proved very bad, and the rain had, though I know not how, made its way into the carriage. Mrs. and Miss Mervyn and myself were already disposed of as before, but no sooner did the captain hear this account, then without any ceremony, he was so civil as to immediately take possession of the vacant seat in his own coach, leaving Madame Duvall and Monsieur Dubois to take care of themselves. As Disclement Willoughby, his own chariot, was in waiting. I instantly begged permission to offer Madame Duvall my own place, and made a motion to get out, but Mrs. Mervyn stopped me, saying that I should then be obliged to return to town with only the foreigner, or Sir Clement. Oh, never mind the old bell-dam!" cried the captain. She's weather-proof, I'll answer for her, and besides, as we all are, I hope, English, why shall meet with no worse than she expects from us? I do not mean to defend her, said Mrs. Mervyn, but indeed, as she belongs to our party, we cannot with any decency leave the place till she is, by some means, accommodated. Lord, my dear! cried the captain, whom the distress of Madame Duvall had put into a very good humour, why shall break her heart if she meets with any civility from a filthy Englishman? Mrs. Mervyn, however, prevailed, and we all got out of the coach to wait till Madame Duvall could meet with some better carriage. We found her attended by Monsieur Dubois, standing amongst the servants, and very busy in wiping her negligee, and endeavouring to save it from being stained by the wet, as she said it was a new Leon silk. Sir Clement Willoughby offered her the use of his chariot, but she had been too much peaked by his railery to accept it. We waited some time, but in vain, for no hackney-coach could be procured. The captain at last was persuaded to accompany Sir Clement himself, and we four females were handed into Mrs. Mervyn's carriage, though not before Madame Duvall had insisted upon our making-room for Monsieur Dubois, to which the captain only consented in preference to being incommoded by him and Sir Clement's chariot. Our party drove off first. We were silent and unsociable, for the difficulties attending this arrangement had made everyone languid and fatigued. Unsociable, I must own, we continued, but very short was the duration of our silence, as we had not proceeded thirty yards, before every voice was heard at once, for the coach broke down. I suppose we concluded, of course, that we were all half-killed, by the violent shrieks that seemed to come from every mouth. The chariot was stopped, the servants came to our assistance, and we were taken out of the carriage without having been at all hurt. The night was dark and wet, but I had scarce touched the ground when I was lifted suddenly from it by Sir Clement Willoughby, who begged permission to assist me, though he did not wait to have it granted, but carried me in his arms back to Ranala. He very earnestly inquired if I was not hurt by the accident. I assured him I was perfectly safe and free from injury, and desired he would leave me, and return to the rest of the party, for I was very uneasy to know whether they had been equally fortunate. He told me he was happy in being honoured with my commands, and would joyfully execute them, but insisted upon first conducting me to a warm room, as I had not wholly escaped being wet. He did not regard my objections, but made me follow him to an apartment, where we found an excellent fire, and some company waiting for carriages. I readily accepted a seat, and then begged he would go. And go indeed he did, but he returned in a moment, telling me that the rain was more violent than ever, and that he had sent his servants to offer their assistance, and acquaint the mervins of my situation. I was very mad that he would not go himself, but as my acquaintance with him was so very slight, I did not think proper to urge him contrary to his inclination. Well, he drew a chair close to mine, and after again inquiring how I did, said in a low voice, You will pardon me, Miss Attenville, if the eagerness I feel to vindicate myself induces me to snatch this opportunity of making sincere acknowledgments for the impertinence with which I tormented you with the last redotto. I can assure you, madam, I have been a true and sorrowful penitent ever since, but shall I tell you honestly what encouraged me to— He stopped, but I said nothing, for I thought instantly of the conversation Miss Mervin had overheard, and supposed he was going to tell me himself what part Lord Orville had borne in it, and really I did not wish to hear it repeated. Indeed, the rest of his speech convinces me that such was his intention, with what view I know not, except to make a merit of his defending me. And yet, he continued, my excuse may only expose my own credulity, and want of judgment and penetration. I will therefore merely beseech your pardon, and hope that some future time. Just then the door was opened by Sir Clement's servant, and I had the pleasure of seeing the captain, Mrs. and Miss Mervin, enter the room. No ho! cried the former. You have got a good warm berth here, but we shall beat up your quarters. Here, Lucy, Maul, come to the fire and dry your trumpery. But hey, day why, where's old Madam French? Good God! cried I. Is not Madame DuVal then with you? With me? No, thank God. I was very uneasy to know what might have become of her. And if they would have suffered me, I should have gone in search of her myself. But all the servants were dispatched to find her, and the captain said we might be very sure her French beau would take care of her. We waited some time without any tidings, and was soon the only party in the room. My uneasiness increased so much that Sir Clement now made a voluntary offer of seeking her. However, the same moment that he opened the door with this design, she presented herself at it, attended by Mr. DuVal. I was this instant, madam, said he, coming to see for you. You are mighty good truly! cried she, to come when all's and mischiefs over. She then entered, in such a condition, entirely covered with mud, and in so great a rage it was with difficulty she could speak. We all expressed our concern, and offered her assistance, except the captain, who no sooner beheld her that he burst out into a loud laugh. We endeavoured by our inquiries and condolments, to prevent her attending to him, and she was for some time so wholly engrossed by her anger and her distress, that we succeeded without much trouble. We begged her to inform us how this accident happened. How, repeated she, why it was all along of your all going away, and there, poor Mr. DuVal, but it wasn't his fault, for he's as bad off as me. All eyes were then turned to Mr. DuVal, whose clothes were in the same miserable plight with those of Madame DuVal, and who, wet, shivering, and disconsolate, had crept to the fire. The captain laughed yet more heartily, while Mrs. Mervyn, ashamed of his rudeness, repeated her inquiries to Madame DuVal, who answered, Why, as we were coming along, all in the rain, Mr. DuVal was so obliging, though I'm sure it was an unlucky obligingness for me, as to lift me up in his arms to carry me over a place that was ankle-deep in mud. But instead of my being ever the better for it, just as we were in the worst part, I'm sure I wish we had been fifty miles off, for somehow or other his foot slipped, at least I suppose so, though I can't think how it happened, for I'm no such great weight. But however that was, down we both came, together, all in the mud, and the more we tried to get up, the more deeper we got covered with the nastiness, and my newly own negligee too, quite spoiled. However, it's well we got up at all, for we might have laid down till now, for what you all cared, nobody never came near us. This recital put the captain into an ecstasy. He went from the lady to the gentleman, and from the gentleman to the lady, to enjoy alternately the sight of their distress. He really shouted with pleasure, and shaking Monsieur Dubois strenuously by the hand, wished him joy of having touched English ground, and then he held a candle to Madame Dubois, that he might have a more complete view of her disaster, declaring repeatedly that he had never been better pleased in his life. The rage of poor Madame Dubois was inspeakable. She dashed the candle out of his hand, stamping upon the floor, and at last spat in his face. This action seemed immediately to calm them both, as the joy of the captain was converted into resentment, and the wrath of Madame Dubois into fear. For he put his hands upon her shoulders, and gave her so violent a shake that she screamed out for help, assuring her at the same time, that if she had been one ounce less old, or less ugly, she should have had it all returned in her own face. Monsieur Dubois, who had seated himself very quietly at the fire, approached them, and expostulated very warmly with the captain, but he was neither understood nor regarded, and Madame Dubois was not released till she quite sobbed with passion. When they were parted, I entreated her to permit the woman who has charged the lady's cloaks to assist in drying her clothes. She consented, and we did what was possible to save her from catching cold. We were obliged to wait in this disagreeable situation near an hour, before a hackney-coach could be found. And then we were disposed in the same manner as before our accident. I am going this morning to see poor Madame Dubois, and to inquire after her health, which I think must have suffered by her last night's misfortunes, though indeed she seems to be naturally strong and hearty. Adieu, my Dieu, sir, till to-morrow. Sir Clement Willoughby called here yesterday at noon, and Captain Mervin invited him to dinner. For my part I spent the day in a manner the most uncomfortable imaginable. I found Madame Dubois at breakfast in bed, though Monsieur Dubois was in the chamber, which so much astonished me, that I was involuntarily retiring without considering how odd an appearance my retreat would have, when Madame Dubois called me back, and laughed very heartily at my ignorance of foreign customs. The conversation, however, very soon took a more serious turn, for she began with great bitterness to convey against the barbarous brutality of that fellow the Captain, and the horrible ill-breeding of the English in general, declaring she should make her escape with all expedition from so beastly a nation. But nothing could be more strangely absurd than to hear politeness recommended in language so repugnant to it, as that of Madame Dubois. She lamented very mournfully the fate of her lion-silk, and protested she had rather have parted with all the rest of her wardrobe, because it was the first gown she had bought to wear upon leaving off her weeds. She has a very bad cold, and Monsieur Dubois is so hoarse, he can hardly speak. She insisted upon my staying with her all day, as she intended, she said, to introduce me to some of my own relations. I would very feign if excused myself, but she did not allow me any choice. Till the arrival of these relations, one continued series of questions on her side, and of answers on mine, filled up all the time we passed together. Her curiosity was insatiable. She inquired into every action of my life, and every particular that had fallen under my observation in the lives of all I knew. Again, she was so cruel as to avow the most inveterate rancour against the sole benefactor her deserted child and grandchild have met with. And such was the indignation her ingratitude raised, that I would actually have quitted her presence and house, had she not, in a manner the most peremptory, absolutely forbid me. But what good heaven could induce her to such shocking injustice? Oh, my friend and father, I have no command of myself when this subject is started. She talked very much of taking me to Paris, and said I greatly wanted the polish of a French education. She lamented that I had been brought up in the country, which, she observed, had given me a very bumpkin-ish air. However, she bid me not despair, for she had known very many girls much worse than me, who had become very fine ladies after a few years' residence abroad, and she particularly instanced a Miss Polly Moore, daughter of a Chandler shopwoman, who by an accident not worth relating, happened to be sent to Paris, where, from an awkward ill-bred girl, she so much improved that she has since been taken for a woman of quality. The relations to whom she was pleased to introduce me consisted of a Mr. Branton, who is her nephew, and three of his children, the eldest of which is a son, and the two younger are daughters. Mr. Branton appears about forty years of age. He does not seem to want a common understanding, though he is very contracted and prejudice. He has spent his whole time in the city, and I believe feels a great contempt for all who reside elsewhere. His son seems weaker in his understanding, and more gay in his temper, but his gait he is that of a foolish, overgrown schoolboy, whose mirth consists in noise and disturbance. He disdains his father for his close attention to business and love of money, though he seems himself to have no talents, spirit or generosity, to make him superior to either. His chief delight appears to be tormenting and ridiculing his sisters, who in return most heartily despise him. Miss Branton, the eldest daughter, is by no means ugly, but looks proud, ill-tempered and conceited. She hates the city, though without knowing why, for it is easy to discover she has lived nowhere else. Miss Polly Branton is rather pretty, very foolish, very ignorant, very giddy, and, I believe, very good-natured. The first half hour was allotted to making themselves comfortable. For they complained of having had a very dirty walk, as they came on foot from Snow Hill, where Mr. Branton keeps a silversmith's shop, and the young ladies had not only their coats to brush and shoes to dry, but to adjust their headdress, which their bonnets had totally discomposed. The manner in which Madame Duvall was pleased to introduce me to this family extremely shocked me. Here, my dears, said she, here's a relation you little thought of, but you must know, my poor daughter Caroline had this child after she run away from me, though I never knew nothing of it, not I, for a long while after, for they took care to keep it a secret from me, though the poor child has never had the friend in the world besides. Miss seems very tender-hearted, aunt, said Miss Polly, and to be sure she's not to blame for her mama's undutifulness, for she couldn't help it. Lord's know, answered she, and I never took no notice of it too well, for indeed, as to that, my own poor daughter wasn't so much to blame as you may think, for she'd never have gone astray if it had not been for that meddling old person I told you of. If aunt pleases, said young Mr. Branton, we'll talk a somewhat else, for Miss looks very uneasy like. The next subject that was chosen was the age of the three young Brantons and myself. The son is twenty, the daughter is upon hearing that I was seventeen, said that was just the age of Miss Polly, but their brother, after a long dispute, proved that she was two years older, to the great anger of both sisters, who agreed that he was very ill-natured and spiteful. When this point was settled, the question was put, which was the tallest? We were desired to measure, as the Brantons were all of different opinions. None of them, however, disputed my being the tallest in the company, but in regard to one another, they were extremely quarrelsome. The brother insisted upon their measuring fair, and not with heads and heels, but they would by no means consent to lose those privileges of our sex, and therefore the young man was cast as shortest, though he appealed to all present upon the injustice of the decree. This ceremony over, the young ladies began, very freely, to examine my dress, and to interrogate me concerning it. This aprons your own work, I suppose, Miss, but these sprigs aren't in fashion now. Pray, if it is not impertinent, what might you give a yard for this loot-string? Do you make your own caps, Miss?" And many other questions equally interesting and well-bred. They asked me how I liked London, and whether I should not think the country a very dull place when I returned thither. Miss must try if she can't get a good husband, said Mr. Brandon, and then she may stay and live here. The next topic was public places, or rather the theatres, for they knew of no other, and the merits and defects of all the actors and actresses were discussed. The young man here took the lead, and seemed to be very conversant on the subject. But during this time, what was my concern—and, suffer me to add, my indignation—when I found, by some words I occasionally heard, that Madame Duvall was entertaining Mr. Brandon with all the most secret and cruel particulars of my situation. The eldest daughter was soon drawn to them by the recital, and the youngest and the sons still kept their places, intending, I believe, to divert me, though the conversation was all their own. In a few minutes, Miss Brandon coming suddenly up to her sister exclaimed, Lord Polly, only think! Miss never saw her papa. Lord, how odd! cried the other. Why, then, Miss, I suppose you wouldn't know him. This was quite too much for me. I rose hastily, and ran out of the room, but I soon regretted I had so little command of myself, for the two sisters both followed, and insisted upon comforting me, notwithstanding my earnest entreaties to be left alone. As soon as I returned to the company, Madame Duvall said, Why, my dear, what was the matter with you? Why did you run away so? This question almost made me run again, for I knew not how to answer it. But is it not very extraordinary that she can put me in situations so shocking, and then wonder to find me sensible of any concern? Mr. Brandon, Jr. now inquired of me, whether I had seen the Tower, or St. Paul's Church, and upon my answering in the negative, they proposed making a party to show them to me. Among other questions, they also asked if I had ever seen such a thing as an opera. I told them I had. Well, said Mr. Brandon, I never saw one in my life, so long as I've lived in London, and I never desire to see one if I live here as much longer. Lord Papal, cried Miss Polly, why not? You might as well for once for the curiosity of the thing. Besides, Miss Pomfret saw one, and she says it was very pretty. Miss will think us very vulgar, said Miss Brandon, to live in London and never have been to an opera, but it's no fault of mine, I assure you, Miss. Only Papal don't like to go. The result was that a party was proposed and agreed to, for some early opportunity. I did not dare contradict them, but I said that my time, while I remained in town, was at the disposal of Mrs. Mervyn. However, I am sure I will not attend to them if I can possibly avoid doing so. When we parted, Madame Duvall desired to see me the next day, and the Brantons told me, that the first time I went towards Snow Hill, they should be very glad if I would call upon them. I wish we may not meet again till that time arrives. I am sure I shall not be very ambitious of being known to any more of my relations, if they have any resemblance to those whose acquaintance I have been introduced to already. End of LETTER XVII. LETTER XVIII. I had just finished my letter to you this morning, when a violent rapping at the door made me run downstairs, and who shall I see in the drawing-room, but Lord Orville? He was quite alone, for the family had not assembled to breakfast. He inquired first of mine, then of the health of Mrs. and Miss Mervyn, with a degree of concern that rather surprised me, till he said he had just been informed of the accident we had met with at Ranala. He expressed his sorrow upon the occasion with utmost politeness, and lamented that he had not been so fortunate as to hear of it in time to offer his services. But I think, he added, so Clement Willoughby had the honour of assisting you. He was with Captain Mervyn, my lord. I had heard of his being of your party. I hope that flighty man has not been telling Lord Orville he only assisted me. However, he did not pursue the subject, but said, This accident, though extremely unfortunate, will not, I hope, be the means of frightening you from gracing Ranala with your presence in future. Our time, my lord, for London is almost expired already. Indeed. Do you leave town so very soon? Oh yes, my lord. Our stay has already exceeded our intentions. Are you then so particularly partial to the country? We merely came to town, my lord, to meet Captain Mervyn. And does Miss Anville feel no concern at the idea of the many mourners at Absent's will occasion? Oh! my lord! I am sure you don't think! I stopped there, for indeed I hardly knew what I was going to say. My foolish embarrassment, I suppose, was the cause of what followed, for he came to me and took my hand, saying, I do think that whoever has once seen Miss Anville must receive an impression never to be forgotten. This compliment, from Lord Orville, so surprised me, that I could not speak, but felt myself change colour, and stood for some moment silent and looking down. However, the instant I recollected my situation, I withdrew my hand, and told him that I would see if Mrs. Mervyn was not dressed. He did not oppose me, so away I went. I met them all on the stairs, and returned with them to breakfast. I have since been extremely angry with myself for neglecting so excellent an opportunity of apologising for my behaviour at the redotto. But to own the truth, that affair never once occurred to me during the short tata-tet which we had together. But if ever we should happen to be so situated again, I will certainly mention it, for I am inexpressibly concerned at the thought of his harbouring an opinion that I am bold, or impertinent, and I could almost kill myself for having given him the shadow of a reason for so shocking an idea. But was it not very odd that he should make me such a compliment? I expected it not from him. But gallantry, I believe, is common to all men, whatever other qualities they may have in particular. Our breakfast was the most agreeable meal, if it may be called a meal, that we have had since we came to town. Indeed, but for Madame Duvall, I should like London extremely. The conversation of Lord Orville is really delightful. His manners are so elegant, so general, so unassuming, that they at once engage esteem and diffuse complacence. Far from being indolently satisfied with his own accomplishments, as I have already observed many men here are, though without any pretensions to his merit, he is most assiduously attentive to please and to serve all who are in his company, and though his success is invariable, he never manifests the smallest degree of consciousness. I could wish that you, my dearest sir, knew Lord Orville, because I am sure you would love him, and I have felt that wish for no other person I have seen since I came to London. I sometimes imagine that when his youth has flown, his vivacity abated, and his life is devoted to retirement, he will perhaps resemble him whom I most love and honour. His present sweetness, politeness, and diffidence seem to promise in future the same benevolence, dignity, and goodness. But I must not expatiate upon this subject. When Lord Orville was gone, and he made but a very short visit, I was preparing most reluctantly to wait upon Madame Duvall, but Mrs. Mervyn proposed to the captain that she should be invited to dinner in Queen Anne's Street, and he readily consented, for he said he wished to ask after her Lyon negligee. The invitation is accepted, and we expect her every moment. But to me it is very strange that a woman who is the uncontrolled mistress of her time, fortune, and actions, should choose to expose herself voluntarily to the rudeness of a man who is openly determined to make her a sport. But she has very few acquaintance, and I fancy scarce knows how to employ herself. How great is my obligation to Mrs. Mervyn, for bestowing her time in a manner so disagreeable to herself, mailing to promote my happiness. Every dispute in which her undeserving husband engages, is productive of pain and uneasiness to herself. But of this I am so sensible, that I even besought her not to send to Madame Duvall, but she declared she could not bear to have me pass all my time, while in town, with her only. Indeed, she could not be more kind to me, were she your daughter. End of LETTER XVIII LETTER XIX SATURDAY MORNING APRIL XVI Madame Duvall was accompanied by Monsieur Dubois. I am surprised that she should choose to introduce him where he is so unwelcome, and indeed it is strange that they should be so constantly together, though I believe I should not have taken notice of it, but that Captain Mervyn is perpetually rallying me upon my grand-mama's bow. They were both received by Mrs. Mervyn with her usual good-breeding, but the captain most provokingly attacked her immediately, saying, —Now, Madame, you that have lived abroad pleased to tell me this here. Which did you like best, the warm room at Ranala, or the cold bath you went into afterwards? Though I assure you, you look so well, that I should advise you to take another dip. —Muffois, sir, cried she. Nobody asked for your advice, so you may as well keep it to yourself. Besides, it's no such great joke to be splashed and to catch cold, and spoil all one sings, whatever you may think of it. —Splashed, quother! Why, I thought she was sourced all over. Come, come, don't mince the matter. Never spoil a good story. You know you hadn't a dry thread about you. For, George, I shall never think on it without hollowing. Such a poor, forlorn, draggle-tailed, gentlewoman, and poor Mornsea of French here like a drowned rat by your side. —Well, the worst pickle we was in, so much the worse are in you not to help us. For you knowed where we were fast enough, because, while I laid into mud, I'm pretty sure I heard you snigger. So, it's like enough you jostled us to down yourself, for Monsieur Dubois says that he is sure he had a great jolt given him, or he shouldn't have fell. The captain laughed so immoderately, that he really gave me also a suspicion that he was not entirely innocent of the charge. However, he disclaimed it very peremptorily. —Why, then, continued she, if you didn't do that, why didn't you come to help us? —Oh, I! What, do you suppose I had forgot I was an Englishman, a filthy beastly Englishman? —Very well, sir, very well. But I was a fool to expect any better. For it's all over peace with the rest. You know you wanted to fling me out to coach windows the very first time ever I see you. But I'll never go to Rannall with you no more. That, I'm resolved. For I dare say, if the horses had runned over me as I laid in that nastiness, you'd never have stirred a step to save me. —Lord, know it be sure, ma'am, not of the world. I know your opinion of our nation too well to affront you by supposing a Frenchman would want my assistance to protect you. Did you think that Montseer here, and I, had changed characters, and that he should pop you into the mud, and I help you out of it? —Ha, ha, ha! —Oh, very well, sir. Laugh on. It's like your manners. However, if poor Monsieur Dubois hadn't bet with that unlucky accident himself, I shouldn't have wanted nobody's help. —Oh, I promise you, madam, you'd never have had mine. I knew my distance better, and as to your being a little ducked or so, why, to be sure, Montseer and you settled that between yourselves, so it was no business of mine. —What, then, I suppose you want to make me believe as Monsieur Dubois served me that trick of purpose? —A purpose? I, certainly, whoever doubted that. Do you think a Frenchman ever made a blunder? If he'd been some clumsy footed English fellow, indeed it might have been accidental. But what the devil signifies all your hopping and capering with your dancing-masters if you can't balance yourselves upright? In the midst of this dialogue, Sir Clement Willoughby made his appearance. He effected to enter the house with the freedom of an old acquaintance. And this very easiness, which, to me, is astonishing, is what most particularly recommends him to the captain. Indeed, he seems very successfully to study all the humours of that gentleman. —After having heartily welcomed him. You are just in time, my boy," said he, to settle a little matter of dispute between this here gentlewoman and I. Do you know she has been trying to persuade me that she did not above half like the ducking Montseer gave her to the night? —I should have hoped," said Sir Clement with the utmost gravity, that the friendship subsisting between that lady and gentleman would have guarded them against any actions professed disagreeable to each other. But probably they might not have discussed the matter previously, in which case the gentleman I must own seems to have been guilty of inattention. Since, in my humble opinion, it was his business first to have inquired whether the lady preferred soft or hard ground before he dropped her. —Oh, very fine, gentlemen, very fine," cried Madame Duvall, you may try to set us together by the ears as much as you will, but I am not such an ignorant person as to be made a fool of so easily, so you needn't talk no more about it, for I season to your designs. Monsieur Duvall, who was just able to discover the subject upon which the conversation turned, made his defence in French with great solemnity. He hoped, he said, that the company would at least acknowledge that he should not come from a nation of brutes, and consequently that to willfully offend any lady was to him utterly impossible. But that, on the contrary, in endeavouring as was his duty to save and guard her, he had himself suffered, in a manner which he would forbear to relate, but which he greatly apprehended, he should feel the ill effects of for many months. And then, with the countenance exceedingly lengthened, he added that he hoped it would not be attributed to him as a national prejudice and he owned that he must, to the best of his memory, aver, that his unfortunate flaws owing to a sudden but violent push, which, he was shocked to say, some malevolent person with a design to his injury, must certainly have given him. But whether with a view to mortify him, by making him let the lady fall, or whether merely to spoil his clothes, he could not pretend to determine. This disputation was at last concluded by Mrs. Mervyn's proposing that we should all go to Cox's museum. Nobody objected, and carriages were immediately ordered. In our way downstairs, Madame Duvall, in a very passionate manner, said, Muffois, if I wouldn't give fifty guineas only to know who gave us that shove! This museum is very astonishing and very superb, yet it afforded me but little pleasure, for it is a mere show, though a wonderful one. Sir Clement Willoughby, in our walk around the room, asked me what my opinion was of this brilliant spectacle. It is a very fine and very ingenious, answered I, and yet I don't know how it is, but I seem to miss something. Excellently answered, cried he, you have exactly defined my own feelings, though in a manner I should have never arrived at. But I was certain your taste was too well formed to be pleased at the expense of your understanding. Baddie! cried Madame Duvall. I hope you too is difficult enough. I am sure if you don't like this, you like nothing, for it's the grandest, prettiest, finest sight that ever I see in England. What! cried the captain with a snare. I suppose this may be in your French taste. It's like enough, for it's all kick-shore work. But prithee, friend! turning to the person who explained the devices. Will you tell me the use of all this? For I'm not enough of a conjurer to find it out. Use, indeed! repeated Madame Duvall disdainfully. Lord, if every thing's to be useful! Why, sir, as to that, sir? said our conductor. The ingenuity of the mechanism, the beauty of the workmanship, the undoubtedly, sir, any person of taste may easily discern the utility of such extraordinary performances. Why, then, sir? answered the captain. Your person of taste must be either a coxcomb or a Frenchman, though, for the matter of that, does the same thing. Just then our attention was attracted by a pineapple, which suddenly, opening, discovered a nest of birds, which immediately began to sing. Well! cried Madame Duvall. This is prithee, as an ausy rest. I declare, in all my travels, I never see nothing elegant though. Harky friend! said the captain. Hast never another pineapple? Sir? Because of thou hast, prithee, give it us without the birds, for, do you see, I'm no Frenchman, and should relish something more substantial. This entertainment concluded with the concert of mechanical music. I cannot explain how it was produced, but the effect was pleasing. Madame Duvall was an ecstasy, and the captain flung himself into so many ridiculous distortions by way of mimicking her, that he engaged the attention of all the company, and in the midst of the performance of the coronation anthem, while Madame Duvall was affecting to beat time, and uttering many expressions of delight, he suddenly called for sorts, which a lady, apprehending some distress, politely handed to him, and which, instantly applying to the nostrils of poor Madame Duvall, she involuntarily snuffed up such a quantity, that the pain and surprise made her scream aloud. When she recovered, she reproached him with the usual vehemence, but he protested he had taken that measure out of pure friendship, as he concluded from her raptures that she was going into hysterics. This excuse by no means appeased her, and they had a violent quarrel, but the only effect her anger had on the captain was to increase his diversion. Indeed, he laughs and talks so terribly loud in public, that he frequently makes us ashamed of belonging to him. Madame Duvall, notwithstanding her wrath, made no scruple of returning to Dine in Queen Anne Street. Mrs. Mervyn had secured places for the play at Drury Lane Theatre, and though ever uneasy in her company, she very politely invited Madame Duvall to be of our party. However, she had a bad cold, and chose to nurse it. I was sorry for her in disposition, but I knew not how to be sorry that she did not accompany us. For she is—I must not say what, but very unlike other people. CHAPTER XX Our places were in the front row of a side box. Sir Clement Willoughby, who knew our intention, was at the door of the theatre, and handed us from the carriage. We had not been seated five minutes before Lord Orville, whom we saw in the stage-box, came to us, and he honoured us with his company all the evening. Miss Mervyn and I both rejoiced that Madame Duvall was absent, as we hoped for the enjoyment of some conversation, uninterrupted by her quarrels with the captain. But I soon found that her presence would have made very little alteration, for as far was I from daring to speak, that I knew not where even to look. The play was love for love, and though it is fraught with wit and entertainment, I hope I shall never see it represented again. For it is so extremely indelicate—to use the softest word I can—that Miss Mervyn and I were perpetually out of countenance, and could neither make any observations ourselves, nor venture to listen to those of others. This was the most provoking, as Lord Orville was in excellent spirits, and exceedingly entertaining. When the play was over, I flattered myself I should be able to look about me with less restraint, as we intended to stay the farce. But the curtain had hardly dropped, when the box-store opened, and in came Mr. Lovell, the man by whose phoppery and impertinence I was so much teased at the ball, where I first saw Lord Orville. I turned away my head, and began talking to Miss Mervyn, for I was desirous to avoid speaking to him. But in vain! For as soon as he had made his compliments to Lord Orville and Sir Clement Willoughby, who returned them very coldly, he bent his head forward, and said to me, I hope, ma'am, you have enjoyed your health since I had the honour. I beg ten thousand pardons, but I protest I was going to say the honour of dancing with you. However, I mean the honour of seeing you dance." He spoke with a self-complacency that convinced me that he had studied this address, by a way of making reprisals for my conduct at the ball. I therefore bowed slightly, but made no answer. After a short silence he again called my attention, by saying in an easy, negligent way, I think, ma'am, you was never in town before. No, sir. So, I did presume, doubtless, ma'am, everything must be infinitely novel to you. Our customs, our manners, and Les étiquettes de nous autres, can have little very resemblance to those you have been used to. I imagine, ma'am, your retirement is at no very small distance from the capital. I was so much disconcerted at this sneering speech, that I said not a word, though I have since thought my vexation both stimulated and delighted him. The air we breathe here, however, ma'am, continued he very conceitedly, though foreign to that you have been accustomed to, has not, I hope, been at variance with your health. Mr. Lovell, said Lord Orville, could not your eye have spared that question? Oh, my Lord! answered he. If health were the only cause of a lady's bloom, my eye, I grant, had been infallible from the first glance, but— Come, come! cried Mrs. Mabin. I must beg no insinuations of that sort. Miss Anville's colour, as you have successfully tried, may you see be heightened, but I assure you it would be past your skill to lessen it. Pond honour, madam! returned he. You wrong me! I presumed not to infer that rouge was the only succeedenum for health, but really I have known so many different causes for a lady's colour, such as flushing, anger, moversant, and so forth, that I never dared decide to which it may be owing. As to such causes as them there, cried the captain, they must belong to those that they keep company with. Very true, captain! said Sir Clement. The natural complexion has nothing to do with the occasional sallies of the passions, or any accidental causes. No, truly! returned the captain. For now, here's me, why I look like any other man just now, and yet, if you were to put me in a passion, for George, you'd soon see me have as fine a high colour as any painted Jezebel in all this place, be she never so bedorbed. But, said Lord Orville, the difference of natural and of artificial colour seems to me very easily discerned, that of nature is mottled and varying, that of art set and too smooth, it wants that animation, that glow, that indescribable something which, even now that I see it, wholly surpasses all my powers of expression. Your lordship, said Sir Clement, is universally acknowledged to be a connoisseur in beauty. And you, Sir Clement, returned he, an enthusiast. I am proud to own it, cried Sir Clement, in such a cause, and before such object enthusiasm is simply the consequence of not being blind. Prithee, a truce with all this palavering, cried the captain, the women are vain enough already, no need to puff them up more. We must all submit to the commanding officer, said Sir Clement, therefore let us call another subject. Pray, ladies, how have you been entertained with the play? Want of entertainment, said Mrs. Mervyn, is its least fault, but I own there are objections to it which I should be glad to see removed. I could have vented to answer for the ladies, said Lord Orville, since I am sure this is not a play that can be honoured with their approbation. What? I suppose it is not sentimental enough, cried the captain, or else it is too good for them, for I'll maintain it's one of the best comedies in our language, and has more wit in one scene than there is in all the new plays put together. For my part, said Mr. Lovell, I confess I seldom listen to the players. One has so much to do in looking about and finding out one's acquaintance, that rarely one has no time to mind the stage. Pray, most effectively fixing his eyes upon a diamond ring on his little finger, pray, what was the play to-night? Why, what the devil? cried the captain. Do you come to the play without knowing what it is? No, yes, sir, yes, very frequently. I have no time to read play-bills. One merely comes to meet one's friends and show that one's alive. Ha! ha! ha! and so cried the captain. It costs you five shillings a night just to show you're alive. Well, faith my friend should all think me dead and underground before I'd be at that expense for him. How some ever, this here you may take from me, they'll find you out fast enough if you have anything to give them. And so you've been here all this time and don't know what the play was. Why, really, sir, a play requires so much attention. It is scarce possible to keep awake if one listens. For indeed, by the time it is evening, one has been so fatigued with dining, or wine, or the house, or studying, that it is—it is perfectly an impossibility. But now I think of it, I believe I have a bill in my pocket. Oh, why, here it is, love for love. I—true. Ha! ha! How could I be so stupid? Oh, easily enough, as to that, I warrant you," said the captain. But to my soul, this is one of the best jokes I ever heard. Come to a play and not know what it is. Boy, I suppose he wouldn't have found it out if they had fobbed you off with a scraping of fiddlers or an opera. Ha! ha! Why, now, I should have thought you might have taken some notice of one Mr. Tattle, that is in this play. This sarcasm, which caused a general smile, made him colour. But turning to the captain with a look of conceit, which implied that he had a retort ready, he said, "'Emprey, sir, give me leave to ask, what do you think of one Mr. Ben, who is also in this play?' The captain, regarding him with the utmost contempt, answered in a loud voice, "'Think of him? Why, I think he is a man!' And then, staring full in his face, he struck his cane on the ground with a violence that made him start. He did not, however, choose to take any notice of this. But having bit his nails some time in manifest confusion, he turned very quick to me, and in a sneering tone of voice said, "'For my part, I was most struck with the country young lady, Miss Prue. Prey, what do you think of her, ma'am?' "'Indeed, sir,' cried I, very much provoked, "'I think, that is, I do not think anything about her.' "'Why, really, ma'am, you prodigiously surprise me. Mais apparement, ce n'est qu'en façon de parler, though I should beg your pardon, for probably you do not understand French.' I made no answer, for I thought his rudeness intolerable. But Sir Clement, with great warmth, said, "'I am surprised that you can suppose such an object as Miss Prue would engage the attention of Miss Anvil even for a moment.' "'Oh, sir,' returned this fob, "'tis the first character in the piece, so well-drawn, so much the thing, such true country-breeding, such rural ignorance, ha-ha, it is most admirably hit-off, upon honour.' I could almost have cried, that such impertinent should be levelled at me, and yet chagrined as I was, I could never behold Lord Orville and this man at the same time, and feel any regret for the cause I had given of displeasure. "'The only female in the play,' said Lord Orville, worthy of being mentioned to these ladies, is Angelica.' "'Angelica,' cried Sir Clement, "'is a noble girl. She tries her lover severely, but she rewards him generously.' "'Yet, in a trial so long,' said Mrs. Mervyn, "'there seems rather too much consciousness of her power.' "'Since my opinion has the sanction of Mrs. Mervyn,' added Lord Orville, "'I will venture to say that Angelica bestows her hand rather with the air of a benefactress, than with the tenderness of a mistress. Generosity without delicacy, like wit without judgment, generally gives as much pain as pleasure. The uncertainty in which she keeps Valentine, and her manner of trifling with his temper, gives no very favourable idea of her own.' "'Well, my Lord,' said Mr. Lovell, "'it must, however, be owned, that uncertainty is not the tone among our ladies at present. Nay, indeed, I think they say, though faith, taking a pinch of snuff. I hope it is not true, but they say that we now are most shy and backward.' The curtain then drew up, and our conversation ceased. Mr. Lovell, finding we chose to attend to the players, left the box. How strange it is, sir, that this man, not contented with the large share of phoppery and nonsense which he has from nature, should think proper to effect yet more. For what he said of Tattle and of Miss Prue convinced me that he really had listened to the play, though he was so ridiculous and foolish as to pretend ignorance. But how malicious and impertinent is this creature to talk to me in such a manner! I am sure I hope I shall never see him again. I should have despised him heartily as a phop, had he never spoken to me at all. But now that he thinks proper to resent his supposed ill-usage, I am really quite afraid of him. The entertainment was, the deuces in him, which Lord Orville observed to be the most finished and elegant petite pièce that was ever written in English. In our way home, Mrs. Mervyn put me into some consternation by saying, it was evident from the resentment which this Mr. Lovell harbours of my conduct, that he would think it a provocation sufficiently important for a duel, if his courage equaled his wrath. I am terrified at the very idea. Good heaven! The demand so weak and frivolous should be so revengeful! However, if bravery would have excited him to affront Lord Orville, how much reason have I to rejoice that cowardice makes him contented with venting his spleen upon me? But we shall leave town soon, I hope, and see him no more. It was some consolation to me to hear from Mrs. Mervyn that while he was speaking to me so cavalierly, Lord Orville regarded him with great indignation. But really, I think there ought to be a book of the laws and customs, all a mode, presented to all young people upon their first introduction into public company. Tonight we go to the opera, where I expect very great pleasure. We shall have the same parties at the play, for Lord Orville said he should be there, and would look for us.