 15 September the 15th God preserve me in my senses. I have passed two days and two nights, I know not how. In silence and without food Patty tells me, but I think I am a little recovered. I will write to my mother and beg of her to open her arms to receive her miserable child. I am collected enough, and know what to say. I had just dispatched my letter, incoherent as it is and blotted my tears, when Patty brought me one that had come by the post. I knew my dear mother's hand on the superscription, and kissed it before opening it. See my sister how the tenderest of parents writes to her unhappy child, whom she fondly believes to be the darling of her husband, and blessed with domestic felicity. To Sydney from Dorothy My beloved Sydney, I find age and infirmities are advancing at pace upon me. My last illness shook me severely, and has left a memorandum of what I may expect in the next visit it makes me. Your family cares, and I was so much enlarged, that I cannot expect, nor do I desire, that you should undertake a journey to Sydney Castle to pay me a short visit. Yet, my dear, as you are the comfort of my age, I cannot, in the present precarious state of my health, bear to be at such a distance from you, while God permits me strength, I will lay hold of his bounty and endeavour to get to London. You have told me that you are not conveniently circumstance at South Park as to room. I will not therefore incommod you, but shall content myself with waiting your arrival in town, at your house in St James Street. But do not hasten your departure from the country on this account. I am in no immediate danger, my dear, only willing to lay hold of an interval of health to get nearer to you. If God prolongs my life, what joy will it be to me to spend next winter with my darling, and her dear good Arnold, and to feast my eyes with my lovely grandchildren. If I am called from you, I shall have the comfort of my child's affectionate hands to close my eyes, and shall leave the world without regret, as I have lived to see my Sydney happy, in the arms of a good man, who will supply the loss of parents, and uniting himself those tender ties which nature must soon dissolve. My prayer for yours, and my dear son's prosperity, I never fail to offer up to heaven. Your brother George is with me, and desires to be remembered to you. He purposes staying here the greatest part of the winter. As I hope to reach London by the latter end of the week, direct your next to me at your own house in town. I am my dear love, your most sincerely affectionate mother, Dorothy Biddorf. My heart is bursting, O Cecilia, what will become of my fond, my dear venerable parent, when she finds this daughter, this comfort of her age, this beloved of her soul, a poor abandoned outcast, lost to her husband's love, turned out of his doors, despised, disgraced. My children, too, I must leave them behind, my God, for what calamities has thou ordained, thy creature? Tears, tears, you may well flow. So I am relieved, and will endeavour to fortify my soul against the two events that appear to me as horrid as an approaching execution to a guilty wretch, the parting with my children, and the meeting with my mother. As the letter I wrote will miss of her at Sydney Castle, I shall write to London to prepare her to receive the wretch whom her imagination has figured to her so happy. Lady V, I hear her coming upstairs. I cannot conceal my affliction nor my disgrace. Lady V has left me. Left me in astonishment and new horror. Mrs. Gerard, who do you think Mrs. Gerard is? She is the aunt of Miss Birchell, that aunt who betrayed her to destruction. Sure, this woman was sent into the world for a scourge. I cannot collect myself to tell you with any method the conversation that passed between Lady V and me. She found me with the marks of tears on my face. They streamed again at the sight of her. I could not conceal the cause, and I put Mr. Arnold's letter into her hands, for I was not able to tell her the purport of it. This is Mrs. Gerard's doing, said she. The detestable creature! How could she work on your infatuated husband to drive him to such horrid lengths? I know not, said I, but I hope my Lady V believes me innocent. Innocent, she exclaimed. My dear creature, your sufferings almost make me mad. Do you know that Mrs. Gerard has an intrigue with your husband? I fear so, madame, I replied, but I hoped it was not public. Poor child, said Lady V. His attachment to her has been no secret, ever since he came down to this country, though probably you were the last to suspect it. I have often dreaded the consequences of it, but never imagined it would have come to this. I always had a bad opinion of the woman, and only kept up a face of subvenity to her in her husband's time on account of her niece, a charming girl that lived with her. But since Miss Birchle has left her, I have almost dropped my acquaintance with her, though my Lord, who had an old friendship for Captain Gerard, persuades me to be civil to her. The name of Miss Birchle had struck me speechless. The clue was now unravelled. With what an unremitting zeal has this base woman gone on in her career of iniquity. Lady V, who was entirely taken up with thoughts of my unhappiness, took no notice of my silence or confusion. What do you mean to do, my dear Mrs. Arnold, said she? Do you think it is not possible, by the interposition of friends, to disabuse your unfortunate husband, for unfortunate he is in a higher degree than yourself, as you have conscious innocence to support you? O madam, said I, it is vain to think of it. Mrs. Gerard has struck the blow effectually. Were Mr. Arnold left to the workings of his own heart, he might perhaps relent. But that woman, like my evil genius and his, will take care to keep his suspicions alive. She possesses his whole heart, and my removal has become necessary to the quiet of them both. I have taken my resolution. I will immediately quit this house, and leave it to a righteous God, to vindicate me in his own time. You should go nowhere but to my house, said Lady V, with tears in her eyes, but that, I think it an improper situation for you, while Mr. Falkland is my guest. He will be distracted when he hears of this. I conjured Lady V not to tell him. My being parted from my husband cannot long be a secret, said I, but the cause may. Lady V told me that Mr. Falkland was that very morning setting out for Sidney Castle, to see my brother, having received a letter from him the day before in which he told him that my mother was going in a day or two to London, and begged he would come and spend a week with him. She added, Mr. Falkland purposed doing so, and then returning to V Hall, as my lord had obtained a promise from him to stay some time longer with them, at least till the old lady's affairs were settled who'd left her fortune to Mr. Falkland, and to whom my lord V was executor. I told Lady V I depended on her friendship to keep this affair a secret from Mr. Falkland, lest the heat of his temper should make him take such notice of it as might render my separation from Mr. Arnold doubly injurious to my character. Lady V saw the necessity of this caution, and promised to observe it. She expressed great surprise at Mr. Falkland's visiting Mrs. Gerard, whom she said she did not imagine he'd been acquainted with. He is no stranger, said she, to your husbands and more with her, as it has often been a topic of discourse between my lord and me, and I can hardly think he would be so indelicate as to carry on a love affair with such an abandoned creature, especially if I have often heard him express the utmost detestation of her, on account of her robbing you of your husband's affection, which I'd observed for a good while. But there is no knowing mankind, added she. If that should be the case, you may depend upon it that vile Gerard has laid her plan deeper than we are aware of, and would out swear us all that Falkland came to her house for no other reason than to have an opportunity of seeing you, who, to be sure, she said, had given him a private hint to meet you there. Now, the worst of it is, it is impossible to have this matter cleared up to your husband without Mr. Falkland's concurrence, and that you will not consent to. By no means, I replied, I would not for the world have Mr. Falkland interfere in my justification. If the affair should really be, as you have suggested, a little time may perhaps discover this wicked woman too, Mr. Arnold, and it will not then be so difficult to clear my innocence. At present her influence over him is too powerful for me to combat with, and I know he wishes for nothing more than to free himself from the restraint that my presence lays him under. Lady V acquiesced in my opinion, and said she hoped a little time would chase away the dark cloud that now hung over me. She stayed with me the whole day. It was a day of tears. The dear woman was quite subdued at parting with me. I shall see you no more, dear Lady V, said I. I shall go to London in two days. Preserve your fortitude, dearest Mrs. Arnold, she replied. The time will come when your husband will repent of the bitter distress he is occasioned to you. My Lord and I will use our utmost endeavours to convince him of his error. We shall meet in London, my dear. I shall go there the early in the winter on purpose. Have courage. Your innocence must be cleared. I answered her not. My heart was too full. We embraced, and Lady V parted from me in silence. I have written to my mother, and directed my letter to St. James Street. I would have her prepared for the shock before she sees me, a shock which I fear she will not be able to sustain. September 16th. Mrs. Gerard has never called or sent to me since I was at her house, she has affected her purpose and is contented with a triumph. I am prepared for my departure. Tomorrow I turn my back upon my husband's house, and upon my children. I have been weeping over them this hour as they lie asleep in their nurse's arms, but I will look at them no more. Poor Patty is almost dead with grief, she would fain go with me, but I have persuaded her to stay. I can rely on her fidelity and her tenderness towards my children. She says she will be as precious of them as the apple of her eye, and will give me an account of their welfare from time to time. Sure, Mr. Arnold will not turn her out to. She is an excellent manager, and he cannot do without a housekeeper. I have been debating with myself whether I should write to Mr. Arnold or not, and have at length determined to depart in silence. It is an easy matter for the guilty to make as bold as severations as the innocent, and nothing which I could now assert would make an impression on him. Had I only his suspicions to combat there might be hopes, but his heart is alienated from me, and while it continues attached to another I despair of his listening to the voice of reason or of justice. If ever his eyes are opened his error will prove sufficient punishment to him. Perhaps my mother or my brother may put me in a way, my conduct in time I hope may justify me. Meanwhile I will not condescend to the weak justification of words. September the Eighteenth I have bid adieu to South Park, and arrived this morning in London in a hired carriage, for I would not take one of Mr. Arnold's. I found my mother at the house in St. James Street where I now am. She got here last night and my letter had thrown her into agonies, from which she had not yet recovered. What have you wrote to me? said she, as she held me in her arms. Your dreadful letters almost killed me. Sure, sure, my dear child, it cannot be true that you have left your husband. What is the cause? What have you done? Or what has he done? I begged my mother to compose herself a little, and then related to her every circumstance in the same manner you have had them, as they occurred. Her lamentations pierced my heart. She wrung her hands in bitterness of anguish. Why did not the grave hide me? said she, before I saw shame and sorrow heaped upon my child. I came to die in peace with you. You might have lengthened my days for a while, but you cut them off. My eyes were closed in affliction. A wounded spirit, who can bear? Had you died in your cradle, we would both have been happy. My child would now have been a cherub. An angel you have always been in my eyes, and I am punished for it, but that was my crime, not yours. You are a martyr to the crimes of others. My mother wept not all this time. I wished she had. Her passionate looks and tones affected me more than tears could. My eyes began to run over. Hers soon accompanied me, and it a little relieved the vehemence of her grief. She then began to reproach herself for having listened to Lady Grimstone's suggestions in favour of Mr Arnold, and for her own soliciting this fatal marriage. But I stopped her on a subject which I knew with so much tormentor thoughts. I conjured her not to reflect on it in that manner. I told her I knew she had acted for the best, and that nothing but an extraordinary fatality, which could neither be foreseen nor avoided, had made me unhappy. I said I was sure Mr Arnold had been seduced by the wiles of a wicked woman, for that he was by nature a good man, and that he had more of my pity than of my resentment. I found it necessary to reconcile my mother to herself on this head. She seemed willing to lay hold on the hint, and turned all her indignation against Mrs Gerard, a practised sinner she called her for whom nothing could be said in extenuation of her crime. We now turned our thoughts towards fixing on some other abode. You may be sure Mr Arnold's house is no place for us, and my mother declared she would not stay another night in it. Accordingly we have dispatched her maid to take us lodgings immediately. September the 21st we have quickly shifted the scene, my dear Cecilia, and are settled, at least for the present, in very handsome lodgings in St Albans Street. We came to them last night, and my mother seems a little less distracted than she was. I pray God spare her life, but I fear I shall not long enjoy that blessing. She is sadly altered since I last saw her. A dropsicle complaint is stealing on her fast, her legs are swelled, and she has entirely lost her appetite. Yet, if her mind were a little more at ease, I should hope that by the assistance she can have here, she might be unable to hold out against this disorder for a good while. I endeavour to suppress my own grief, that I may not increase hers. September the 22nd I was surprised to-day by a visitor to my mother. Miss Birchell came to pay her respects to her. I have told you they corresponded. My mother, it seems, had given her notice of the time she intended being in town. The young lady had been to wait on her in St James Street, and was, from thence directed by the servant who kept the house, to our new lodgings. She is really a very lovely young woman, and there is something so insinuating in her manner that there is no seeing her without being prejudiced in her favour. She changed colour when my mother presented me to her by name, but at the same time surveyed me with a scrutinous eye. My mother asked her had she seen Mr. Falkland since his return to England. She answered no with a sigh, but that she believed he had been at Putney. To see his son, said my mother without reflecting that Miss Birchell had avoided mentioning that circumstance, and stopped upon naming the place where the child was at nurse. Yes, she replied, in a timorous accent, and stealing a look at me. The woman told me that a young gentleman had been there about six weeks ago, who said he came from the child's father abroad, and made her a handsome present. As I did not know Mr. Falkland was returned to England, I should not have suspected it was himself who had called if his housekeeper, that gentle woman in whose care he left me, had not come to me from him. She is settled now in a lodging-house, and Mr. Falkland, on his coming to London, went to her to inquire where the child was. She told me he inquired civilly after me, and gave her a letter for me, which the good-natured woman joyfully brought me. But it contained nothing but a bill of a hundred pounds, with two or three lines, polite indeed, but not kind. To inform me it was for the child's use, and I have heard nothing of him since. My mother told her that, as Mr. Falkland was returned again, probably to continue in England, she did not despair of his being brought to do her justice, especially as she must suppose the sight of a child had made an impression on him. She then, without ceremony, entered into a detail of my unhappy story. She was full of it, and being, as you know, of a very communicative temper, made no scruple to inform Miss Birchle of every particular. She seemed very much affected with the story, and grew red and pale by turns, especially at finding her aunt so deeply concerned in it. She exclaimed against her barbarity, reproached Mr. Arnold for his injurious suspicions, and condoled obligingly with me on the wrongs I had received. And yet, my Cecilia, would you believe it, I thought I could discover through all this, that Miss Birchle was not entirely free from doubt, in regard to my innocence. This observation I gathered only from certain looks that she cast at me, as my mother related the passages. There are little minute touches on the countenance sometimes, which are so transient they can hardly be overtaken by the eye, and which, from the passions being strongly guarded that give rise to these emotions, are so slight that a common observer cannot discover them at all. I am sure my mother did not, but my sensibility was particularly roused at her relating a story that I did not then wish to have divulged, and I was too much interested in the narrative not to attend precisely to its effects on the hero. I am neither angry with or surprised at Miss Birchle for her scepticism on this occasion. She loves Mr. Falkland, and had not herself the power to resist him. She knows he once loved me, and may fancy he does so still. Nay thinks perhaps I am not indifferent towards him. She is a stranger to my heart, but is convinced that her aunt is base enough, first, to ensnare to vice, and then to betray. Upon the whole there is nothing unnatural in her suspicions, but I think they could not proceed from a virtuous mind. Upon Miss Birchle's taking leave, my mother gave her a general invitation to come to her as often as she had leisure, telling her she must not take it amiss if she did not return her visits, as her health would not permit her to go much abroad. Miss Birchle, it seems, has a house, not lodgings, in a retired street in Westminster, where she has been ever since she quitted her aunt, to whom she never discovered where she lived. Her fortune enables her to appear very gently in the private manner she chooses to live. She goes but seldom into public, and has but a narrow circle of acquaintance. Those are all of her own sex, and of the best character, and she has had the good fortune to preserve her reputation unsuspected, so that I hope she may yet retrieve her error by an advantageous match. Should Mr. Faulkland still continue a verse to her? September the twenty-eighth. I have had a letter from Patty. She tells me her master has returned home, and adds, to be sure the vile wicked wretch let him know you were gone. She says he called for the two dear babes, and kissed them both. Patty carried the youngest to him in her arms and the other in her hand, and she says he looked troubled. How came you not to follow your lady, Mrs. Martha? said he. She replied, my lady was willing, sir, that I should stay to look after the children, and to be a spy upon my actions, I suppose, is not that to be part of your employment too? Ah, Patty! Patty! Mrs. Arnold had better have looked to her own conduct. Patty made no answer but retired in tears. Everyone in the house she writes is broken-hearted, but that Mr. Arnold is never at home spending his whole time with Mrs. Gerard, whom the girl in the overflowing of her zeal for me heartily execrates. She informed him that I was gone to London and purposed living with my mother, who was now there. October the 7th. I have just received a letter from Lady V. She tells me she sent twice to invite Mr. Arnold to dine with them, in order, if possible, to lead him into a conversation by which they hoped, in some measure to have cleared my innocence, as my Lord could take upon him to justify Mr. Falkland. But he declined coming, not knowing, perhaps, that Mr. Falkland was absent from V. Hall. She said her Lord had gone to South Park, but either Mr. Arnold was not at home, or denied himself. My lady adds, it is a delicate affair to interpose in, yet would I have ventured to have wrote to your husband, if I had been sure that you had no objection to my telling him, that you had made me privy to the cause of your parting. Tis plain by his avoiding us, it is a subject he does not care to come to an explanation upon. Let me have your sentiments, and I will act accordingly. I shall answer Lady V's letter directly, and beg of her to leave the matter as it is. Mrs. Gerard's testimony will have more weight than all my good Lord or lady could urge in my favour. Besides, they are not furnished with sufficient weapons to combat against such an enemy. They know nothing of Miss Birchell's story. My regard to her character prevented me from giving my lady this specimen of her aunt's baseness. I suppose the same reason may have closed Mr. Faulkland's lips on that subject, so that they have nothing to allege against Mrs. Gerard, which would help to invalidate her testimony with regard to Mr. Faulkland and me. Mr. Arnold indeed knows that she has forfeited her pretensions to modesty, but the delusion of self-love blinds a man in these cases, and he can believe that truth, sincerity and justice inhabit the bosom of her whose passion for him alone has caused a deviation from chastity. I cannot think of exposing poor Miss Birchell by giving up her secret, though it might contribute to clear me by turning Mr. Arnold's suspicions on Mrs. Gerard, yet would she have great reason to resent it, more especially as she is now by a blameless life endeavouring to blot out the memory of her fault. Though my Lady V is very prudent, her zeal for me, and my Lord's good-natured earnestness in my cause, might render them unguarded on the occasion, and should they attempt to make use of this secret in order to discriminate Mrs. Gerard, it might at the same time bring malicious censures both on Miss Birchell and Mr. Falkland. I think upon the whole my mother is the properest person to mediate on this nice occasion. When Mr. Arnold comes to town, she can, with due tenderness to the young lady, disclose the whole affair to him. The knowledge of this black part of Mrs. Gerard's character, joined to her arguments, may perhaps have some weight. Though, to tell you the secret bowdings of my heart, I expect not much from this. I have lost my husband's love. Mrs. Gerard possesses it all, and who knows whether he even wishes to lose his pretense for abandoning an unhappy wife. I wish, however, Mr. Falkland were returned to V. Hall. Should Mr. Arnold know of his absence at this juncture, he might imagine, possibly, he was gone in quest of me. October the 12th. How the scene is changed, my sister! What a melancholy reverses here to my late prospect of domestic happiness! I pass my nights in tears and bitter reflections on my dismal situation. My days are spent in a painful constraint, to conceal the anguish of my own heart, that I may not aggravate that of my poor mother. My endeavours to be cheerful, I perceive, have a good effect on her. She is much more composed and seems resigned to our fate, patiently waiting for a change. I think, too, she is rather better in her health. She has had the advice of a physician of eminent skill. The medicines prescribed, he gives us hope, will keep her disorder at least from gaining ground, and that she may hold out for some years. I have prevailed on her not to give Sir George an account of my unhappy story, till I hear that Mr. Falkland has left him, because I know my brother would conceal nothing from him, and, if possible, I would have Mr. Arnold's suspicions of him concealed. I have many reasons for this. My own delicacy would receive a wound by it for who knows what judgment Mr. Falkland might form on this knowledge. But my most material objection is, should he attempt to vindicate his own honour, what might be the consequence? I shudder to think of it. I know Mr. Falkland is rash when provoked. Rather let my sufferings and my disgrace lie wrapped in oblivion than bring any disaster on the father of my children. October the 16th. Another letter from Lady V. She tells me that Mr. Falkland is returned from his visit to my brother. He was soon informed of my parting with Mr. Arnold, to the talk of the neighbourhood. Everybody lays it on Mrs. Gerard. Mr. Falkland was very inquisitive to learn particulars from my lady, which he said he was sure I had told her. But she took care not to give him the least hint, which could lead him to suppose that he had any share in my fate. She says he raves like a madman, and that she finds it absolutely necessary to keep him in ignorance of the truth. She was obliged to tell him that my having discovered Mr. Arnold some more with Mrs. Gerard, she believed, was the sole cause of our separation. He asked her, were she sure there was no other, adding, that he thought my temper had been too gentle to fly on a sudden to such extremes? My lady took occasion to ask him whether he did not visit Mrs. Gerard. He replied, he did sometimes having formally known her at bath. She concludes with telling me that Mr. Arnold has become quite invisible to every friend he has, Mrs. Gerard engrossing him wholly. I hope Mr. Falkland may not suspect how much he is concerned in my misfortune. My absenting myself for some time before I left home from V Hall, and my departure from my husband immediately after my interview with Mr. Falkland, at Mrs. Gerard's, may raise some distrust in his mind. But, while it continues merely some eyes, he can have no pretense for requiring an explanation from Mr. Arnold, so that, if my husband keeps his own counsel, which he seems inclined to do, and my Lord and Lady V preserve the secret, I shall rest satisfied. October the 20th. My mother has wrote to Sir George, and given him a full account of my situation, with a request which I prevailed on her to make, that he would not take any notice of the affair till he saw us. My brother perhaps may think of a way, with tenderness and safety, to remove Mr. Arnold's doubts, without father exposing my reputation or laying my husband open to mischief. A prudent, cool, and at the same time zealous friend, might devise some means to affect this. But I fear my brother's disregard to Mr. Arnold, his diminished love for me, and his resentment to my mother, will prevent him from engaging with that alacrity or precaution that the nicety of circumstances may require. I will therefore wait with patience till God in his own time shall raise me from the state of humiliation into which I am fallen. October the 22nd. With what a tortous paced, as time advanced to the wretched, how dismal are those hours which are spent in reflecting on lost happiness! O Falkland, how light was thy transgression, if we consider the consequences, compared to that which has driven me from my home, and from my children! Stealed my husband's heart against me, heaped him for me on my head, and loaded my mother's age with sorrow and remorse. All this is the fatal consequence of Mr. Arnold's breach of his marriage vow, all this, and much more I fear that is to come. We keep ourselves entirely concealed from the knowledge of all our acquaintance. Not a mortal visits us, but now and then, Miss Birchill, and I have never stirred out adores but to church. October the 28th. Sir George has answered my mother's letter just as I feared he would. He speaks of Mr. Arnold with more contempt and aversion than he does of me with pity or brotherly kindness. He says, It is well for him that Mr. Falkland knows not of his injurious suspicions of him, or he would vindicate himself in a manner he little thinks of. He tells us he does not know at this distance how to advise, but that, as I am of so patient and forbearing at spirit, he thinks my wrongs may sleep till he comes to town, which cannot yet be these three or four weeks, having leases to renew with his tenants and abundance of other business to do in the country. So much for George's tenderness. October the 29th. My comforts are circumscribed within a very narrow compass, for I cannot reckon one but what I receive from poor Patty's letters, who never fails to send me weekly an account of my dear little children. They are well, thank God, and not yet abandoned by their father. But even the knowledge of this is embittered by repeated hints of Mr. Arnold's lost condition, lost I may call it for his whole soul as absorbed in the mad pursuit of his own ruin. The poor girl in the bitterness of her indignation tells me he has made Mrs. Gerard a present of her favourite little pad of mine. She says she had a mind to tear her off, when she saw her mounted upon it. I wish not to be told of any of Mr. Arnold's motions, and should forbid Patty to write to me anything on the subject, but that I fear my letter might fall into Mr. Arnold's hands. His curiosity might lead him to open it, for the conscious mind will descend to meanness, and if he should see my prohibition he would be satisfied that his servant was too free in her censures. I am sure he is quite unconcerned at my knowing his conduct, but I would not nevertheless for my children's sake bring this tender faithful poor creature into disgrace with him, by convincing him of the liberty she takes, though he may very naturally suspect it. October the thirtieth. A lady of our acquaintance who happened to see me at church came to pay me a visit today. It seems she is intimate with the widow Arnold, who told her very lately that she was impatient for the commencement of term, as she then expected the cause depending between her and us would be brought to a final issue, and determined entirely in her child's favour. This account alarmed my poor mother so much that she could not be easy till she sent for our lawyer, who was so obliging as to come upon the first summons. She acquainted him with the cause of her apprehensions, and asked him whether there was any likelihood of the widow succeeding. He laughed at my mother's fears and at our antagonist flourishes, as he called them, and said he would not give a best six months to ensure Mr. Arnold's estate to him, which the ensuing term, he says, will put out of the reach of doubt. This assurance has quieted our anxiety on that head. The loss of our suit would indeed be a dreadful blow, as we should have nothing then remaining but my small juncture for the support of Mr. Arnold myself and our two children. Not to mention Mrs. Gerard, who, I have reason to believe, has been no inconsiderable sharer in Mr. Arnold's fortune. November the fourth. Six melancholy weeks are gone since I have been here. I may say both a prisoner and a fugitive. I count the days as they pass, as if I expected some revolution in my fate. Yet whence is it to come? No prospect has yet opened to me. Mr. Arnold's law affairs will soon call him to town. Something may then happen. But does not Mrs. Gerard come to? He cannot live without her, and I shall reap no benefit from this, but the chance of seeing my children sometimes, perhaps, though he may not bring them with him, or if he does he may be cruel enough to refuse me the sight of them. Sir George is cold and dilatory. Were he on the spot something might be done, he might expostulate. My mother too could join arguments to entreaties. Mr. Arnold perhaps might be recovered from his delusion. It is but a perhaps. November the fifteenth. My brother is arrived in town sooner than we expected, and came this evening to pay us a visit. My altered and dejected looks, I believe, shocked him, but George wants tenderness, or at least a capacity of showing it. After a recapitulation of my story, he asked me, Could I be so mean-spirited a creature as ever to think of living with Arnold again, even though he should be inclined to desire it? I told him he considered the matter in a wrong light, and that he ought to reflect on my reputation and the future welfare of my two poor little girls, who would be material sufferers from the want of my care and attention as they grew up, not to mention the disadvantages they would enter into life with, by my continuing under an aspersion, which might in time become very public, and perhaps be believed too, as I made no doubt but that Mrs. Gerard would take pains to propagate it wherever she went. My mother added, Mr. Arnold too might be saved from perdition, if he could be so far convinced of his wife's innocence as to be reconciled to her, and live with her again. And pray, said Sir George, how is this to be done, if that damned woman has put it into his head that Falkland and you are fond of one another? Do you imagine that he will believe what you say, what your brother or your mother or even Falkland himself could say to the contrary? I own to you very fairly that I so much despise the man, that unless you will give me leave to talk to him my own way I will have nothing to say to him at all. Would you have me sue to him for a reconciliation and try to persuade him out of the belief of an imaginary injury which probably he was glad to make a handle of, to get rid of you? No, Sidney, you may be as tame as you please yourself, but it does not become your brother to be so. When I go to him I must insist upon not having rules prescribed to me. Your delicacy in regard to Falkland's asserting your innocence I have nothing to say against, but there can be no objection to your brother's vindicating the honour of his family. I saw Sir George's resentment was roused to the highest pitch, his eyes sparkled with indignation, and his whole frame seemed agitated. Dear brother, said I, I conjure you, and I fell upon my knees and clasped both my arms round his. Do not add to my affliction by involving yourself and my husband in a fatal quarrel. What difference would it make to me if Mr Arnold should fall, whether it is by your hand or Mr Falkland's? The loss would be the same, the misfortune, the publication of my disgrace, the shame. Your husband, said he, breaking from me, though a little softened, would have as good a chance as I if it came to the hazard, or perhaps he might condescend to take you again, if you will have it so, without coming to these extremities, if I am suffered to argue properly with him. I will not consent to your seeing him at all, said I eagerly. The cause is now my own, he answered coolly, but I will do nothing to aggravate your distress. I did not like the manner in which he spoke. My mother, who till now had been silent, caught the alarm. Let me intrigue you, son, said she, to drop the thoughts of any violent methods with Mr Arnold. If you value your sister's peace, or have any regard to the obedience you owe me, I insist on it, that you neither see him nor write to him without our knowledge and consent. And if you do not promise me this, I renounce all ties of kindred or affection to you. Your mother has as just a sense of honour of her family as you have, but it is not on so hot a head and so weak an arm that she depends to see it justified to the world. Sir George, who was netdled at my mother's spirited rebuke, made a low bow. No doubt of it, madam, said he, there will be a miracle wrought in my sister's favour. I would have you let her try the experiment of the ordeal. I dare say she would come off victorious, and then Mr Arnold will do you the favour to take her home again. I wish, said my mother, gravely, that there was a possibility of bringing my dear child's innocence to such a proof. I would not hesitate a minute to put it to the trial, but since there is not such a thing nowadays, I will wait till God in his own righteousness shall judge her cause and clear her to the world. Therefore, son, I insist upon your promise before you leave me. I give you my word, madam, answered Sir George. I will not attempt to hold any conference with Mr Arnold, without your knowledge, will that satisfy you? It does, answered my mother, for I think I can rely upon your word. Sir George left us not very well satisfied with each other. His pride and resentment peaked to the highest. I cannot censure him for it here. He has cause, but the case is a nice and difficult one. The gratification of a private spleen ought not to enter into the measures he should pursue. Glad I am that my mother's properly exerted resolution has tamed him a little. Though George sometimes fails in the respect which he owes her, yet I never knew him willfully to disobey her commands or oppose her inclinations. Tis well there is any hold on a disposition so un-gentle and self-willed as his. November the 18th. My brother has taken a very handsome house in Palmael, and told my mother, between Jest and Ernest, he is going to give her a daughter-in-law, to make up for the loss of her son-in-law. He is in reality making his addresses to Lady Sarah Peay, the daughter of a new-created peer. She has a great fortune, he tells me, but I know nothing more of her. I wish him better success in his nuptials if they take place than I have had. Mr. Sheridan, Volume 2, continued. November the 20th. Mr. Arnold has arrived in town. He came late last night, and his man called this morning to inquire how I did. The poor fellow stole out before his master was up, and was afraid of staying a minute lest he should be wanted at home. I called him up to the dining-room. I saw an honest shame and sorrow in his countenance. How does your master do, Frank? said I. Has he brought the children to town? No, madam, said he, but they are pure and hearty. I believe my master thought it pity to bring them out of the fresh air, as long as Mistress Patty is there to look after them. They are better where they are. I asked him, was Mr. Arnold come to town to make any stay? I believe for good know, said he. This ugly lawsuit, to be sure, will detain him, but he has come alone, said he, with an intelligent nod. I don't suppose, though, he will continue long so. Well, Frank, said I, I am glad to hear your master and the children are well. Ah, madam, shaking his head as he opened the door to go out. It was a woeful day for us when you left South Park. God give everyone their reward. November 22nd. I have not seen my brother these two days. He does not know, I believe, that Mr. Arnold has come to town, though, if he did, I am sure he will not break his word, so that I am easy on that particular. My mother says she will go to Mr. Arnold herself to reason with him a little. I shall not oppose it, though I have no hopes of her being able to affect anything in my favour. She is now laid up with a cold, and is not able to come out of her room, but she pleases herself with the thoughts of this visit, as soon as she is able to make it. She has planned what she intends to say to him, and is resolved to let him into the whole history of Miss Birchle, that he may know, she says, the full extent of Mrs. Gerard's wickedness, as what is there of which that woman is not capable, who could sell to sale the honour of an innocent, unsuspecting creature left to her guardianship. November 23rd. Amazing, my dear Cecilia, I thought I should wonder no more at anything, yet is my wonder now raised to astonishment. I have just received a letter from Lady V. I have read it over and over again, and can yet scarce believe my senses. Here it is, in her own words. To Sidney from Lady V. I suppose you know, my dear Mrs. Arnold, that your husband is in town, and that he left Mrs. Gerard behind him, for no other reason, I imagine, but that he did not choose to be quite so scandalous as to let her travel with him, for we heard that she purposed following him in a few days. Patty, I conclude, may have informed you of thus much, but the extraordinary part of the intelligence, I believe, is reserved for me to acquaint you with. Know, then, that Mrs. Gerard is eloped. Nobody knows with her. Good say you, good, should I say too, but for the conclusion of my story. It is with Mr. Falkland she is eloped. It is positively true, she went off with him in triumph last night in her own chariot, and neither of them have been heard of since. I own I am so confounded by this, I scarce know what I write. I am very glad for your sake that bad creature has quitted your husband, but that she should have drawn my cousin Falkland in is a matter of serious concern to me. It is evident the plan was previously concerted between them, for I am informed today that Mrs. Gerard's maid decamped at the same time, and took with her everything valuable belonging to her mistress, several of her drawers being found open and empty. Mr. Falkland's servants have also disappeared, so that we cannot conjecture which way they are gone. Mr. Falkland, who is about leaving us, asked my permission to give a ball to the neighbouring ladies in our new room, which is just finished. As I concluded he would ask nobody but our own acquaintance I readily consented, and my Lord you know is fond of these frolics. I own I was surprised to see Mrs. Gerard amongst the company, as undaunted as the modestest face there. I would not, however, affront Mr. Falkland so much as to show any disrespect to one who was at that time his guest, but I was out of all patience to find that she, along with several others, was asked to supper. My two good-natured Lord are joining in the invitation. Mr. Falkland made a pretense to wait on her home, and the audacious creature took that opportunity to march off with him. Now, as Falkland really purposed leaving Vihal the next day, I think it would have been but decent in him to have forebore this piece of bare-faced liberty-nism till he was fairly from under our roof. He might have made his assignation in any other place, but I suppose the lady had a mind to show the world she is above restraint, and chose to make her infamy a sort of triumph. I am quite angry with my Lord for only laughing at this and calling it a piece of spirited gallantry in them both. He says he is delighted to think how your good man will shake his ears when he hears his mistress has left him in the lurch and gone off with another lover. I should smile too, but that it makes me sad to think that Mr. Falkland, of whom I had so good an opinion, should so impose upon my judgment and forfeit his own character for so vile a creature. Pardon me, my dear madam, I am so full of my own reflections, on the interest I take in this affair that I have been forgetful of how much more moment it may be of to you. Heaven grant that your husband may think of making himself a mens in returning to a faithful and amiable wife for the loss of a deceitful jolting mistress. Surely this event must open his eyes, or he deserves to lose them. I hope to embrace you in London in a very little time, till then believe me, my dear Mrs. Arnold, your most assured friend and servant, V. Hall, November the 21st, A. V. Well, my Cecilia, what say you to this? Are you not as much surprised as I am? Mr. Falkland, to emerge at last the favoured galant of Mrs. Gerard! Prudigious! I confess, my dear, I am so selfish as not to participate with Lady V in her uneasiness on this occasion, that Mrs. Gerard flies from my husband I am glad, and that Mr. Falkland is the very man she chose to fly with I am still gladder, he of all men living. I would have wished, though least expected, to be the person. This explains everything that is past. Surely, as Lady V says, this must open Mr. Arnold's eyes. I can now discover a double reason for my poor deluded man's having his imagination poisoned with jealousy. Mrs. Gerard did not aim singly at separating my husband and me. This, perhaps, was but a secondary consideration, or who knows whether it was at all intended. But she most certainly designed to secure herself against all suspicions by making me the object of them, and effectually to blind Mr. Arnold, persuading him that Mr. Falkland's visits made to her were only in the hopes of seeing me. Let her views have been what they would, this event was beyond my hopes. Slim glimmerings of comfort begin to break in upon me. Me thinks my heart feels much lighter than it did. How so George will stare at this account? My mother will lift up her eyes, but she has no opinion of Mr. Falkland's morals, and therefore will be the less surprised. I pity Miss Birchle. This is an irremediable bar to her hopes, faint and insupported as they were before. They must now entirely vanish. November the 24th. I gave you a copy of Lady V's letter while the subject was warm at my heart, and before I showed it to any one. But my mother and my brother have now both seen it. My mother, just as I expected, without any great emotions of surprise, only exclaimed against their wickedness, but said she could not help rejoicing in it, as eyes she hoped would derive happiness from their accumulated crimes. Sir George read the letter twice over before he uttered a word, and then said, It was strange upon his soul, most unaccountable, and that either Falkland was run mad, or that woman had bewitched him. When he was with me, said he, at Sidney Castle, he did not so much as mention her. I asked him whether he was acquainted with Mr. Arnold, for I had written him word of your marriage when he was abroad. He told me he had seen both you and him two or three times at Lord V's, but that, as he did not wish to renew his acquaintance with you, he had never visited your husband. I presumed he was not then a stranger to his connection with Mrs. Gerard, at least the conjectures of the neighbourhood upon it. But, as it was then but a matter of opinion, and he knew not of the difference between you and your husband, Tis probably did not choose to discuss me more against my brother, nor by hinting at this circumstance. He expressed great acknowledgments to my mother, when I told him of the notice she had taken of Ms. Bertul, though he said he found from my account of your marriage, that she had deferred her conference with that young lady, till it was too late for her testimony to be of any service to him. As I knew nothing of what had passed between my mother and Ms. Bertul, I could give him no satisfaction on that subject, and the recollection of past transactions being equally disagreeable to us both, I avoided ever mentioning them after our first conversation, nor do I remember that Mrs. Gerard's name occurred once. My mother now began to exalt over Sir George, and took advantage of the surprise and consternation that Lady V's letter had thrown him into. This is your boasted friend, said she, the man whose honour and generosity were not to be questioned, and whose utmost crime was a youthful folly that he was surprised into with a silly girl. I am pleased, however, that this has proved I was not so grossly mistaken in believing him a loose man. Mrs. Gerard is the fittest mate for him, and I am glad they are gone together. Sir George was too much mortified at the flagrant misconduct of his friend to attempt excusing him. He contented himself with repeating, it was the strangest thing he ever knew in his life. My mother then told him, Mr. Arnold was come to town, and that as things had taken such a turn, she hoped herself to be able to bring him to the use of his judgment, and therefore thought it would not be at all necessary for my brother to interfere. Sir George said, with all his heart, if her ladyship would be able to patch up a reconciliation, that would save his sister's credit, and she could be so extremely pliant as to think of living with such a husband again, he should not give himself any further trouble about the matter. But, in his opinion, the affair wore a much odder aspect than it did before. I find Mr. Falkland's behaviour sticks with him, and has a little called his seal towards him. November the twenty-fifth. I have had a letter from Patty, who confirms my Lady V's account of the lover's flight, and she tells me one of Mrs. Gerard's servants has gone off express to town. I suppose to bring Mr. Arnold the news, for they are all in confusion at her house, and know not what is to become of their mistress. But they are certain she is gone with Mr. Falkland. Patty adds, the servants believe this scheme had long been concerted, Mr. Falkland having been a private visitor to their mistress, for a good while. I must confess, I am astonished at it. It has sunk the man extremely, in my opinion. November the twenty-sixth. Miss Bertul has just been here. Poor creature, she is quite stunned with the news. She could scarce believe it at first, till my mother desired I should show her Lady V's letter and Patty's which corroborated all she said. She then gave way to tears and lamentation, saying, that cruel woman was born to be the destruction of everybody she had any connection with. I have found it so. You, madam, to me, have done so too. Mr. Arnold, I believe, has been a great sufferer. Mr. Falkland is now her victim, inconsiderate and barbarous as he is. I grieve for him. November the thirtieth. I have heard nothing of Mr. Arnold. Indeed, it is hardly possible that I should. We are shut up here from all commerce with the world. My mother's illness has confined her to her bed-chamber. We admit no visitors, and I never leave her. I long to know how he takes the ingratitude of his mistress, but I see nobody who converses with him. My brother and Miss Birchle are the only people we see. The latter is pretty often with us. As for Sir George, he only looks in upon us now and then, and we all seem in an awkward situation. I wish my mother were well enough to call on Mr. Arnold. I am very anxious to know what his sentiments are, at least in regard to Mrs. Gerard. December the first. I have been almost asleep, my dear Cecilia, for this week past, but I have been roused this morning in a most extraordinary manner. Sir George called on us. He ran upstairs in a violent hurry and had a countenance when he entered the room that spoke wonders before he opened his mouth. He hardly gave himself time to ask me how I did, though he had not seen me for three days, before he took a bundle of papers out of his pocket which he gave me. Tis from Falkland, he said, and may be worth your knowledge. Upon opening the cover I found it contained at least four sheets of paper, written on every side. Bless me, brother, said I. Do you expect I should take the trouble to read all this? He answered, you may read it at your leisure. You will find it will pay you for the mighty trouble of a perusal. Sir George left me presently, and having read this extraordinary letter to myself, for I happened to be in my own room when my brother came to me, I sat me down to give you a copy of it. My mother, who coughed almost the whole night, is now endeavouring to get a little sleep, so that I will scribble on as fast as I can, while I have no interruption. To George from Falkland, Boulogne, November the 25th, 1705 My dear Bidoff, I am in haste to vindicate myself to you, but in much more haste to do so to Mrs. Arnold, who, if she bestows a thought at all on me, must, I am sure, hold me in the utmost contempt, and great reason would she have if things were always as they appear. Me thinks I see her beautiful scorn at hearing I had carried off Mrs. Gerard. What a poultry fellow she must think me to, and yet I have carried her off, and she is now in my possession, not displeased with her situation, and I might, if I would, be as happy as Mrs. Gerard can make me. But I assure you, Sir George, I have no designs but what are for the good, both of her soul and body, and I have hitherto treated her like a vestal. What a paradox is here, say you, but have patience till I tell you the story of my night errantry. You are to know, then, that as Arnold's amour with Mrs. Gerard was no secret at V Hall, from the moment I heard it, I meditated a design of breaking the detestable union, not out of regard either to him or her, but in hopes of restoring to the most amiable of women a besotted husband's heart, which nothing but downright magic, infernal witchcraft could have robbed her of. The woman is handsome, tis true, but she is a silly toad, and as fantastic as an ape. I had formed this design, I say, from the first notice I had of the intrigue, and in consequence of this resolved to renew my acquaintance with Mrs. Gerard, for I had known her before, known her to my cost. She it was this identical devil, whom I have now in my power, that was the cause of Miss Birchell's misfortune, and therefore the remote cause of my losing Miss Bidolf. Had it not been for her, I should never have had the fall of that unhappy girl to answer for. I should not, I say, mark that, for the mercenary witch was determined to sell her to somebody, when my ill stars threw me in her way. I do not rank this affair in the number of capital crimes, and yet I never think of it without a pang. If half of my fortune would retrieve the girl's peace of mind, I would give it freely. But it is past now, and cannot be helped. She had the good fortune never to be suspected, and if she keeps her own counsel, probably never will. If I die a bachelor, as I believe I shall, I will leave her my whole fortune. What can a man do more? How I ramble from my subject, I meant only to tell you what my design was in carrying off Mrs. Gerard. In order to affect it, as I said before, it was necessary for me to renew my acquaintance with her, and accordingly I put on a bold face and made her a visit. She was not surprised at this, our former intimacy giving me a sufficient pretense for it. She received me with a pleased familiarity which convinced me my company was far from being disagreeable to her, and I am sure, had my views been other than they were, I should have met with as kind a reception as my heart could have wished. For she certainly thought of retaining me in her service unknown to Arnold. I was soon aware of this, for though she often desired to see me, she always contrived it as such times as she was sure of not being surprised by him. This was in some measure meeting my purpose half way, but though I wanted to disengage her from Arnold, I did not mean to sacrifice myself to her, and our views in the material point were very different. Mine were only to part her from her gallant, hers were to share her favours between us, for she did not intend to let go her hold on him, and I believe my backwardness in pushing my good fortune began to disgust her. But the time for carrying my plan into execution was not yet arrived, it could not be till Arnold's departure from South Park. I meant to carry Mrs. Gerard away with the appearance of her own consent, and I knew this was impossible whilst her lover remained so near her. I had formed but a rough sketch of my plan when I received your letter, which summoned me to Sydney Castle, and I resolved not to apprise you of it till my enterprise was crowned with success, more especially as you were then quite ignorant of your sister's wrongs. On my return from visiting you, the first news I heard at V Hall was that Mr. Arnold and his lady were parted. I cursed my own deleteriness, that I had not executed my plan before things were brought to such extremities, for I well knew it was that artful fiend who had occasioned it, though I then little thought how fatally I had contributed towards the misfortune of the ever-aniable and most respectable of women. Lady V told me that your sister, having discovered her husband's infidelity, had left him on that account, but my Lord soon let me into the whole secret. O Sir George, that angel who deserved the first monarch in the universe to be cast off by an undeserving dalt, and I, though innocently the accursed cause, I cannot think with patience of what the divine creature has suffered on my account, but was it not all from the beginning owing to Mrs. Gerard that avenging fury sent on earth as a scourge for the sins of me and of my ancestors? I rave, but no wonder I am mad upon this subject. But to return, I then recollected that the day before I set out for Sydney Castle, I received a message from Mrs. Gerard in the morning, desiring my company to drink coffee with her that evening. I obeyed the summons, little expecting to meet Mrs. Arnold at her house whom I had never seen there before. The effect my presence had on her extremely surprised me. She presently quitted the room. Mrs. Gerard took that opportunity of telling me that she had dropped in on her very unexpectedly, but that as she suppose she would go directly away, we should have an hour to chat by ourselves. She then followed your sister out, and I remained alone in the parlour. While I was reflecting on this odd encounter, which I did not then imagine had been brought about by design, Mrs. Gerard came into me saying your sister was so ill she was under a necessity of accompanying her home, and had ordered her chariot for that purpose. She made me an apology for being obliged to leave me, and said she should be glad to see me the next day. I took my leave, and in going out saw Mr. Arnold at the door which I judged was the true reason of Mrs. Gerard's dismissing me. I set out for Wiltshire the next morning, and though there was something odd in the whole of this incident, I believe it was owing to chance alone and thought no more of it. Till upon my Lord V's telling me the true cause of your sister's disgrace, I found that this serpent had laid the whole plan on purpose to destroy her. You see, for to be sure you know all the particulars, how she seduced the innocent Mrs. Arnold into this fatal visit, having first engaged me to come at the very point of time when she knew the husband would surprise us. For his coming you may be satisfied was not unexpected. I own to you, Sir George, in the first motions of my rage I could have stabbed Arnold, Mrs. Gerard, and myself. But my Lord V calmed my transports by telling me that it was your sister's earnest request that this detestable secret should be kept from my knowledge, and that Lady V, who had entrusted to him with it, would never forgive him if she knew he had divulged it. This reflection brought me back to my senses, and I burned with impatience to execute my first plan, which Mrs. Gerard's repeated crimes now called upon me to accelerate. I communicated my design to Lord V, who was delighted with it, for he perfectly adores your sister. This, said he, though not such a vengeance as that wicked woman deserves, must in the end be productive of what you wish, and Mrs. Arnold may be restored to her peace without injury to her character or mischief to anybody. Having settled my measures with Lord V, I went to pay a visit to Mrs. Gerard. The cockatrice affected to speak with surprise and concern of your sister's separation from her husband. I asked her had she, who was so intimate with both, heard any reason assigned for it. She shook her head, and by a pretended sorrow in her looks and a mysterious silence invited me to press for an explanation of her meaning. She told me at length, with a seeming reluctance, that poor Mrs. Arnold, though to be sure she was a sensible woman, was not without the little frailties and passions of her sex, and that, astonishing and groundless as her suspicions were, she had taken it into her head to be jealous of Mr. Arnold, and with whom do you think of all people in the world she suspects him? I cannot imagine, said I. Why? Truly with me! replied the undaunted Jezebel, and looked as if she expected I should be as much amazed as she pretended to be. I affected to laugh at it, and changing the discourse put an end to my visit. The measures I had to observe required some management. It would not answer the full extent of my purpose to rob Mr. Arnold of his dear, if it did not appear at the same time that she had left him with her own consent. To bring about this it was necessary that the flight on her part should seem premeditated, which would not carry any face, unless she took with her such of her moveables as were most valuable. This I knew could not be done without the assistance of her maid, whom I therefore not only resolved to trust, but also to make her a partner in her mistress's elopement. End of Section 17 Having settled thus much of my plan in my own mind, I began my operations by making the maid presence every time I visited the mistress, and I took care to give those visits as much the air of an amour as I possibly could. I dareswear the girl thought Mrs. Gerard and I were upon the best terms imaginable. I affected to come at such hours as I was sure Mrs. Gerard was alone. I always made my visit short, as if through fear of being surprised with her, and went so far as to leave my chariot when I came in it at a distance from the house, and walked to it alone with the caution of one fearful of being observed. It was a matter of indifference to me whether Mrs. Gerard knew of this or not. My business was only to excite suspicions of an intrigue among her servants, in order to answer a future purpose, but if she were to know with what extreme precaution I visited her, my prudence could not but be very agreeable to her. She had her measures to observe as well as myself, as it was of consequence to her to conceal our acquaintance from Arnold's knowledge. She must necessarily be pleased at the pains I took, without her laying herself open in making the request, to conceal it from him. And she saw I was as careful as she could wish, never to interfere with him. In short, we carried on a private intercourse that, if it could not be called gallantry, was something very like it, for I amused, complimented and flattered her so agreeably that I believed she began to think herself sure of me, and wondered I did not make a better use of the favourable disposition she was in towards me, but I trifled with such dexterity that even she, with all the cunning she is mistress of, could not possibly fathom my design. Having thus laid the foundation of my plot, I made no doubt of being able to execute it with my Lord V's assistance. He was in raptures at the thoughts of our enterprise, and swore he would never have forgiven me if I had not allowed him a share in it. He said, I would give my right hand to make Mrs. Arnold happy, adding, besides it will save her husband from destruction for, to my knowledge, that woman has already almost ruined his fortune. I asked him, might we venture to let my lady into the secret? He said, by no means. My lady was too squeamish to be trusted with such a notable exploit. But when the affair was over, he would take upon him to excuse me to her, after he had diverted himself a little with her surprise. I fretted to death at Arnold staying so long in the country, as it delayed my enterprise. There was one circumstance indeed that a little compensated for this vexation, and that was that my long stay at V Hall, which could be no secret to him, though he dropped visiting there on purpose to avoid me, might in some measure help to efface his injurious suspicions with regard to his lady and me. Besides, it gave the better colour to my other designs. At last the long sought-for opportunity arrived. Arnold was obliged to go to London on his law-affairs. I took care to inform myself of the day from Mrs. Gerrard's maid, and learnt at the same time that her mistress purposed going to town in a week after, for she still endeavoured to save appearances and dared to the last to pretend to reputation. I proposed giving a ball to take my leave of the ladies on the night subsequent to the day fixed for Arnold's departure from South Park. My Lord, almost as anxious for the event as myself, immediately dispatched invitations all over the neighbourhood. There was not a person of any fashion left unasked. Mr. Arnold and Mrs. Gerrard, you may be sure, were not forgot. From the former, as we expected, we received a civil apology. From the latter, a message that she would be sure to come. This was at a distance of eight days from the appointed time. In the interim I continued to visit Mrs. Gerrard as usual, and took care to be speaker for a partner. Arnold went to town as opportunely as we could wish. I called on Mrs. Gerrard the same morning, and having my Lord's permission for it engaged her to come early enough to drink tea, as there were a good many more ladies invited for the same purpose, and at going away I dropped a few mysterious hints to her maid. In the evening there was a very large company met at V. Hall, and having concerted my whole plan, when the ladies were engaged at the tea table, I slipped out, mounted my horse, and rode to Mrs. Gerrard's house. I desired to see her maid, and taking her aside told her not to be surprised, but that her lady was to go off with me that night, that the thing had for certain reasons not been determined until that very evening, that I had just snatched a minute to desire her to get all her ladies' trinkets together, and whatever money and bill she might have in her escritoire. In order to this I gave her a parcel of small keys which I had carried in my pocket for the purpose, and bid her hold herself in readiness against seven o'clock, when a person should call on her who would conduct her to a place where she should find her lady and me. I needed no arguments to persuade the girl, the thing appeared plausible enough. She was fully convinced of the intimacy between her mistress and me, and knowing her too well to have a doubt of her baseness, she concluded I acted by Mrs. Gerrard's directions and promised punctually to obey them. She said she could easily convey away in the dark as many things as she could conveniently carry, and to avoid observation from the rest of the servants, she would wait at a cottage hard by, which she named to me, till her conductor arrived. Whether any of the keys I gave her would fit the locks or not, I was not much concerned. If they did not, I concluded she would think her mistress had made a mistake, and that she would force them open rather than fail. Having settled this material point, I got back to my Lord V's without having been missed by the company. Our ball was very well conducted. I danced with Mrs. Gerrard, and we passed a very agreeable evening. We supped at twelve, and she had ordered her chariot to come a little after that hour, but I had given my fellows their queue. As the dancing was not renewed, the company broke up between one and two. Mrs. Gerrard was one of the first that offered to go, but as her servants were not to be found, she was detained till everybody else had taken their leave. At length her coachman and footman were found in the cellar, with one of my men, all so drunk that they were not able to stand. Her servants were really so, and mine counterfeited so well there was no discovering the cheat. In this emergency nothing was more natural than the offering my servants to attend her home, and, of course, to wait on her myself to see her safe. She readily accepted the first offer, but declined the other. This was easily got over. I handed her into the carriage and stepped in after her. Our route was settled. We drove from my Lord V's door, and turning short from the road that led to Mrs. Gerrard's house, we struck down a lane, which was to carry us to our first destined stage, which was at the distance of seven miles. This was no other than a poor gardener's house, to which place two of my emissaries had been dispatched that day to wait our coming with a travelling chariot and four stout horses. I had taken care, according to promise, to send a trusty groom for the maid, with a boy to carry her luggage. They were both well mounted and at orders to carry her to an inn on the road to Rochester and within about a mile of the town. This inn was kept by a fellow who had formerly been my servant. I had placed him there, and he was entirely at my devotion. He had already received his instructions, and his house was to be our second stage. I concluded the maid had arrived there long before us, having had six or seven hours the start of us, and the place was not more than twenty miles from her own house. Mrs. Gerard was not immediately aware of our going out of the road. She was in high spirits, and I kept her in chat. As soon as she perceived it, she cried out with some surprise, Lord Mr. Falkland, where is the fellow carrying us? He has missed his way. She called to him, but the coachman who had orders not to stop unless I spoke to him, only drove the faster. Pray do call to him, said she. The wretch has certainly got drunk with the rest of the servants. I told her there was no possibility of turning in the narrow road in which we then were, that when we got out of it I would speak to the coachman and beg of her in the meanwhile not to be frightened. The lane was a very long one, but our rapid wheels soon carried us to the end of it, where I had appointed Peevee and one of my footmen to meet us on horseback. I had another servant behind the chariot whom I purposed to send back with it in the morning. At the sight of two horsemen who were apparently waiting for us, she screamed out, Oh, the villain! he has brought us here to be robbed! She had a good many jewels on her, and to say the truth had some reason for her fears, the chariot had now got on a good open road and the horses rather flew than galloped. The two horsemen joined us and kept up with us at full speed. I saw she was heartily frightened, and thought it time to un-deceive her. I was not ill-natured enough to keep her longer under the apprehensions of highwaymen, and thought she would be less shocked at finding there was a design upon her person than on her diamond earrings. Now, said I, taking one of her hands with rather more freedom than respect, since we were out of all danger of discovery or any possibility of pursuit. I will tell you a secret, and I spoke with an easy assured tone. She drew her hand away. What do you mean, sir? Nothing, madam, but to have the pleasure of your company in a little trip I am going to take. Believe me you are not in the least danger, you are under my protection. Those are my servants that you see riding with us, and you may judge of the value I set upon you, by the pains I have taken to get you into my possession. Lord, Mr. Falkland, why, sure, you can't be serious! Never more so in my life, madam. I have long had a design upon you, but your connection with Mr. Arnold—my connection with Mr. Arnold, sir!—interrupting me, I don't understand you. Come, come, Mrs. Gerard, you and I are old acquaintance, you know. It is no time for dissembling. He has been a happy man long enough. It is time for a woman of your spirit to be tired of him, especially as I think I may say without vanity. You do not change for the worse in falling into my hands. The lady had now recovered her courage. She was no longer in fears of being robbed, and her spirits returned. You audacious creature, how dare you treat me thus! Have you the assurance to insinuate that there is anything criminal in my attachment to Mr. Arnold and his family? My dear madam, I accuse you of no attachment to any of his family. He himself was the only favoured person. Sure, there never was such an impertinent wretch, but I know the author of this scandal. It was Mrs.—and she dared to profane your sister's honoured name. But I despise her, and Mr. Arnold shall soon know how I have been affronted, and she fell her crying. My dear Mrs. Gerard, I beg your pardon, I did not mean to offend you. If Mr. Arnold admired you, he did know more than what every man does who sees you. I beseech you to compose yourself. By all that is good, I mean you no harm. Be calm, I conjure you, and don't spoil the prettiest face in England with crying. A daring, provoking creature, she sobbed. What could put such an attempt as this into your head? And to what place are you carrying me? Only to France, my dear creature. Have you ever been there? To France! To France! she exclaimed. And do you dare to think you shall carry me there? Oh, you'll like it of all things, said I, when you get there. What do you think her reply was? Why, neither more nor less than a good box on the ear. I catched hold of her hand and kissed it. You charming vixen, how I admire you for your spirit. She endeavoured to rest her hand from me, but I held them both fast for fear of another blow. Base, insolent ravisher, villain! As she rose in her epithets, I replied with lovely, charming, adorable, tender, gentle creature. She cried again, but they were spiteful tears, and did not create in me the least touch of that pity which on any other occasion they might have moved me to. I was glad our altercations had a short truce, by the chariot stopping at the gardener's cottage, where I had ordered my equipage to wait. All the family were in bed but the man's wife, who came curtsying to the door. I led, or rather lifted, Mrs. Gerard out of the chariot, for she would not give me her hand, and begging she would repose herself for a few minutes while I gave my orders to my servants, put her into the good woman's hands. She went sullenly in, without making me any answer, and, seeing nobody but the old woman, she was convinced that complaints, or an attempt to escape, would be equally fruitless, and so prudently acquiesced. I soon dispatched my orders. I made the footman, who came behind the chariot, mount the box, and directed him to drive to an inn in the next village to Mrs. Gerard's house, and from thence to send it home by someone who did not know to whom he belonged. I then ordered my own equipage to the door, and entering the cottage told the lady I was ready to attend her. The old woman presently vanished so that, seeing nobody to apply to, she suffered me very quietly to put her into my chariot, and I placed myself by her. It was made on purpose for travelling. I took care to have nothing but wooden windows to which I had the precaution to add a couple of springlocks, which shut on drawing up, and were not without difficulty to be opened. One of the windows was already up, and I flirted up the other as soon as I got into the coach. It was a fine moonlight morning. The postillian cracked his whip, and though the roads were deep and dirty, the four horses darted away like lightning. I believe, madam, said I, you are by this time convinced that my scheme is too well laid to be baffled by any efforts you can make. I mean to treat you with due respect, and beg you will use me with a little more gentleness than you have done. That is all the favour I shall ask in return, till you yourself are disposed to show more. You are the most amazing creature, said she, that ever breathed. What is the meaning that in the whole course of our acquaintance your behaviour never gave me room to believe that you were serious in your designs on me, and now at once you sauce upon your prey like a hawk? I'll answer you in two words, said I, when we first met you had a husband, since the renewal of our acquaintance—you'll pardon me—it was no secret that you had a favoured lover in Mr. Arnold. I am not of a temper to solicit a lady by stealth, and I would not give a pinch of snuff for the woman who is not entirely at my disposal. Your attachments to Arnold forbade this, and I was determined to have you all to myself. My attachments to Mr. Arnold, cried she, impudently again. I, said I, coolly, it began to be talked of so openly that your reputation was mangled at every tea-table in the country, and had you stayed much longer there you would have found yourself deserted by every female of character that knew you. Mr. Arnold's parting with his wife was by everybody charged to your account, and as she is reckoned a very good sort of a woman—was not that a pretty phrase?—everyone took her part, and were not sparing in their invectives against you. Add to all this that Arnold has certainly run out his fortune, and is so involved that it will not be possible for him long to make those returns of generosity which your merit deserves. You and I have been acquainted long. I am no stranger to your circumstances. I know, at Captain Gerard's death, your pension as his widow, and the very small jointure at Ashby, was the whole of your income. Arnold's love, it is apparent, has hitherto been bountiful. How long it could be in his power to continue it so, may be a question worth your considering. I found I had mortified her pride by mentioning the narrowness of her circumstances, and the demolition of her character. If all you say were true, sir, which is far from being the case—with a toss of her head—you will find it no very easy matter to make me a mens for what I shall, perhaps, lose forever by this violence of yours. Notwithstanding the smallness of my income, which you seem so well informed of, I have a considerable sum of money, and some valuable jewels lying by me, of which my servants may very probably rob me. I assured her upon my honour I would make good to her every thing she should lose through my means, and would take care her situation should never again be upon the same precarious footing which it had been. I did not choose to mention the circumstance of my having secured her maid and her money too. I reserved that for an agreeable surprise. I had measures to observe. I did not want to be on good terms with her too soon for obvious reasons, as nothing was farther from my heart than a thought of gallantry. For this purpose I assumed a more distant behaviour, and effected to show her something like respect. I did not drop the least hint of my knowing that Mr. Arnold had made his lady uneasy on my account, much less that I suspected her for the wicked contriver of that mischief. I deferred the discussing of this point till a more favourable opportunity should offer, when it would be in my power to make a better use of it. My design was by degrees to make her satisfied enough with her situation, not to wish to return to Arnold. When I had once brought her to this, I judged it would not be difficult to carry her still farther to the point I aimed at, and that was to write a letter to him of my dictating. You will think this was a strange expectation, and yet it was what I resolved to accomplish. I knew the turn of the mind I had to deal with. Bring a woman of this sort into good humour, and it is easy to weadle her into compliance. She has no solid understanding, but possesses in the place of it a sort of flashy wit, that imposes on common hearers, and makes her pass for what is called clever. With a great deal of vanity and an affectation of tenderness, which covers the most termigant spirit that ever animated a female breast, her ruling and governing passion is avarice, and yet, strange to tell, generosity is of all things what she professes to admire, and is most studious of having thought her characteristic. Her pretensions to this virtue I have opposed to her vice of avarice, as the terms appropriated to each seem most contrary in their natures. Yet I do not mean by generosity that bounteous disposition which is commonly understood by the word. No, no. She aimed at the reputation of this virtue in our most exalted idea of it, and would feign be thought a woman of a great soul. This phrase was often in her mouth, and though her whole conduct gave the lie to her professions, she would tell you fifty stories without a word of truth in any of them to prove how nobly she had acted on such and such occasions. On the knowledge of this part of her temper, I chiefly built my hopes of success. I kept up a sort of forced conversation during the rest of our journey. She was sullen, but not rude. As I was far from desiring to come to an acclerestment with her, I did not wish to have her in better temper. We reached the inn, which was about a mile on our side Rochester, at eight o'clock in the morning. This was a favourable hour, as by that time every traveller must have left the stages they lay at. The house stood alone, and luckily enough had no company in it. My old servant Lamb had received my instructions by letter, and was prepared accordingly for our reception. This was the place to which I had ordered the maid to be carried. She had arrived there some time before us and was safely lodged. The chariot drove into the courtyard close to the door of the inn. The step was let down in an instant and Mrs. Lamb appeared to receive us. We both darted into the house. Dressed as we were for a ball, we made an odd appearance as travellers at that hour of the morning. I believe this consideration made Mrs. Gerrard very readily hurry upstairs with the woman of the house. I inquired for Mrs. Gerrard's maid, having given orders to Lamb that she should not be seen till I had first spoke to her. I was carried into the room where she was. She seemed very glad that we were arrived. I desired her to lay out her lady's toilette, which I concluded she had brought with her, for that Mrs. Gerrard would presently put herself in a proper habit for travelling. The maid told me she had brought her mistress's riding-dress with her, and as many other things of her wearing apparel as she could conveniently carry. I saw a vast heap of things lying unpacked on a bed, which was in the room, and asked how she had managed out cleverly to get such a number of things together without observation. She told me she had lost no time, from the minute I left her till the arrival of her guide, but had employed the interval in carrying out some of the best of her lady's clothes, piece by piece, and conveying them to the cottage, which she could easily do without the servant seeing her for, as it was dark, she passed in and out without observation. Here she huddled them into a large portmanteau. After this she went to examine her lady's escritoire, but was a long time puzzled in endeavouring to open it, as none of the keys I had given her answered. She endeavoured to force it open with as little noise as possible, but in vain. She then had recourse to a second trial of the keys, when one of them, which probably had been passed by before, luckily opened the lock, and she secured all the money and jewels she could find. These, said she, kept me in continual dread all the way as I travelled, for I have eight hundred pounds in banknotes, and though my lady has such a quantity of jewels on her, I am sure I have as many more about me, which I have hid in different parts of my clothes. I commended the girl's diligence, as indeed it deserved, and having before ordered tea and coffee into Mrs Gerard's room, I now went in to breakfast with her. I found the woman of the house still with her, at which I was not at all uneasy, for as she had been tutored by her husband, I knew she was not to be wrought upon if Mrs Gerard had attempted it. As I did not at that time desire a tet-a-tet with her, I contrived to keep Mrs Lamb in the room, by desiring her to drink tea with us. When we had done breakfast I told Mrs Gerard that, as I feared she was a good deal fatigued, if it was agreeable to her, we would remain where we were for that day, and that I would by all means have her think of taking some rest. She said she was extremely tired, and should like to get a little sleep. I think, madame, you had better go to bed, said Mrs Lamb. I have a very quiet chamber ready where no noise in the house can disturb you. Show me to it! answered Mrs Gerard, with a tone of weariness and ill humour. The woman obeyed. I followed. She carried her to the door of the room where the maid was, and throwing it open Mrs Gerard, who suppose she was attending her, went in. I stepped in after her. Mrs Lamb withdrew. Mrs Gerard's astonishment at the sight of her maid is past description. Rachel! in a tone of admiration! Rachel, who did not think there was anything unexpected or extraordinary in their meeting, was quite at and lost to guess at what her mistress wondered, and answered her in her tone with some surprise. Madam! and waited, expecting she would give her some orders, which finding the lady did not, the maid asked her very composedly, would she please to undress? I hope, madame, said I, stepping forward, that Mistress Rachel has taken care to bring you everything you may have occasion for. I shall leave you in her hands, and wish you a good repose. Strange, astonishing creature, said Mrs Gerard, looking at me with less anger than surprise. I bowed, and left the room.