« AnteriorContinuar »
countenance is manly and pleasing, • Every thing here is English', and very expressive. I lis features. replied he,
even you are, an are good, and, my father says, English woman in your manners, strongly resemble those of his mo- your person, and I think your i ther. So much for his person and taste. Partial as I am to my namanners ; now for his faults. The tive country, it is extremely gra.. greatest I have yet discovered is, tifying to me to observe my uncle. his not having yet professed him- adopt its customs. I observe we. self my slave. He even seems ir live totally different from the other sensible to my charms, which I European inhabitants here. And have been ever told are irresistible. where do you think I strolled this He talks to me with as much in- morning into your library! and difference as though I were his was delighted to see every English grandmother; and yet his coun- author of note had a place there'. tenance is sensibility itself. An • I am very glad,' said I, • that other fault he has too, he is too our mode of living pleases you grave. Wbat has such a fine fel- and if you can find entertainment Jow to be grave about? and in my in ipy library it is very much at. presence too, whose smiles all have your service. Are you fond of told me dispel every gloom, and reading :'-I am', said he; and brighten the face of nature. Now will ask you in return the same he is the first man that was ever question '. ! I like it sometimes', , two days in my company without said I, and if you have po objeca professing himself iny admirer. tion we will read together; pere Ought I not to resent it? But I haps you may be able to point out feel a greater desire to enslave him saine beauties I have overlooked'. than any youth I ever saw; and a • With all my heart', said be, it very good punishment too, I am will give me the highest pleasure ; sure. Sir Philip is, miserable and if sir Philip will join us it. enough. Yonder I see him and cannot but be pleasing to you'. my cousin walking in the gardens, ' It is an honour', said sir Philip, They are mighty sociable. I won. I have frequently petitioned for der the former is not jealous. But I looked at him with a haughty I will go down and make him so. air, but made no answer; went on O the joy to wound a lover! with my cousin, and asked him
which of the English poets, her [In continuation.]
liked best ; • it required much,
judgment', he said, to determine; WELL, I have succeeded most the many beauties in alınost all. charmingly in my plan. But this the English poets; it was a tasko insensible Wentworth ! I am he was unequal to; but he bę: puzzled to know what to make of lieved Milton, Pope, and Young, him. I entered the garden with a were in general in the highest ess. stately walk, and was soon espied tination; he discovered many
: by the gentlemen - Sir Philip of beauties in Thomson, particularly fered me his arm; I took ruy coul-. in his “Seasons'; and a poet of the sin's I hope,' said I, you ap- present day, Cowper, he highly prove the mode of laying out thene esteemed'. gardens; my father says they are I was almost tired with this quite in the English taste' grave conversation, when sir Phia
lip observed that it threatened a your hand ?---that hand—' (and he storm, and proposed returning to would have taken it, but I snatchthe house. We did so, and I, at ed it away) and think you I can my cousin's request, sat down to be unconcerned at the treatment the harpsichord. Sir Philip took you have this day, and I may say the violin-I desired him to lay it the whole week, given me. Let down as I did not like the instru- me entreat you to explain yourself. ment; he did so, and sighed. If I have offended you there is no
I asked Wentworth to sing, concession I will not make to rewhich he readily complied with, gain your favour. But I am conand although he does not sing half scious of no fault-' 'I wonder,' so well as sir Philip, I affected to said I, with great composure, be in raptures, and declared that where my cousin is, I want to I had never heard so tine a voice. speak with him.'
This speech In this manner did we go on, I completed the mortification. He endeavouring to exclude sir Philip paced across the room in a violent from any share in the conversation, passion, and opening the door and paying Mr. Wentworth every * Seek him, madam !' said he, I attention. At length what did doubt not he is in the house. I iny favoured beau do but leave dropped him another courtesy, and the room. What could I say; thanked him for his permission to I could not call him back to be retire; but I was not his provoking sure; so strum, strum, went I on angel again. I tripped up stairs, at the harpsichord. Sir Philip sat and scribbled thus far to you. I by me, and entreated I would in- long to see how the wretch will form him what he had done to dis- behave at dinner. To be sure he please me. I affected not to hear will not presume to be angry! if him for some time; and expected he should I must relax a little of he would throw himself at my feet, my severity; for I must not lose as he ought to have done ; but in- him neither, at least not until I stead of that he threw himself in am sure of another. But I am rea passion. Such usage, he said, solved to conquer the insensibility was not to be borne ; he would go of Wentworth, and sir Philip, I to my father, and demand an ex- suppose, must be the sacrifice ; planation from him. I stopped my engagements to another would iny music, and rising, dropped a be no obstacle to any one else; courtesy, with : ’Pray, sir, what do but Wentworth bas such refined you want to say to me?' • Provoke notions. I must lay down my ing angel ! he called me.--I went pen to prepare for the dinner hour, on- I thought I was inistress of so adieu for the present. my actions. I thought I might, when I pleased, play on this hari
[In continuation.] less instrument ; but I find I was mistaken :-'Pray, sir, who are Quite irresistible from the ele. you? What right have you, sir, gance of my dress, and with a to interrupt my amusements, or countenance arrayed in' smiles, I intrude on my retirement ?' entered the dining-room, where
• What a question !' replied he; was my father and Wentworth ;. • am I not your favoured lover: but no sir Philip. The former Have you not promised to give me looked grave, and displeased, and
the latter seemed to survey me -Fear not, whispered vanity, no with an aspect of concern. I took youth can withstand the force of my seat in silence. To be sure, your charms.-Vanity whispered thought I, sir. Philip has been not in vain, as you shall hear. making complaints, and I am to I was silent; my father went on receive a lecture froin these gra - If you intend making sir Philip vities.
your husband, your conduct, (for Mum-mum, all dinner-time- he has informed me of your behaI chattered as usual, but no an- viour,) is highly absurd and imswer from either could I
get. At prudent. Think you he will not, length I arose to leave the room. when inarried, revenge himself • Where are you going ' said my for the gross affronts you gave him father- To my own apartment, as a mistress? Or supposing his sir ; this is a very gloomy one.' temper to be too good to permit • It is you that make it so—' •, him to take 'such methods; yet sir! dear! I am all life and spi- you lessen yourself in his eyes, and rits ; I am sure I hate gloom of all lose your importance by the very things.' - Sit down, and be se
take to establish it. If rious; I want to talk with you, on the contrary you have no intenand expect you will answer me a tion to marry him, your conduct question, which I, as a father, is still more reprorable: you add have a right to ask you.'--Some cruelty to insult. None but a dequestions are not easily answered, praved mind would wish to wound sir,' said I, and I cannot promise the feelings of a person who loves one at present. I looked at Went- them. But I will think better worth who seemed much displeased things of you; I am certain you at my pertness.-Come, thought I, have not, in this case, permitted I must take care not to carry inat- yourself to think, but have been ters too far: all my plans will be run away with by your vivacity disconcerted if I disgust this senti- and inconsiderateness. I talk to mental cousin, so I added-But you pow in a serious manner, and I will be serious, and answer any conjure you to examine your heart question you may please to ask well, and to determine what place me,'
sir Philip has there. If he has This set matters right :-I was not an interest there, far be it from his dear girl, and the question he me to urge it; in this matter I had to put was, whether I intended leave you wholly free, only I insist to take sir Philip Norton for my on your behaving properly to sir husband.
Philip.' I started at so home a question, Having finished this harangue and knew not how to answer: I my father paused for an answer. was loth to give up my slave, just I had by this time resolved on one. at the time my power was at its I could see no alternative between height; and yet if I declared my relinquishing any designs on Wentintention to marry him I must at worth, and giving up sir Philip. once relinquish iny scheme of en- I resolved on the latter. Knowing slaving Wentworth ; and then that nothing could make me so. should I not succeed with the lat- lovely in my cousin's eyes as a ter and have lost the former, what dutiful conduct, I assumed a grave a forlora situation should I be in! and tender aspect, threw myself
on my knees to my father, and of soon gaining another reconciles thanked him for all his parental me, but I must be extremely remonstrances; said I was con- circumspect in my conduct : 110 vinced that I had acted improper- airs, no levities must be played off ly, and begged his forgiveness for upon Wentworth. And what, say what I was going to say.--He rais- you, will you marry him. I nes ed and tenderly kissed me; said ver think of marriage; we will talk he would forgive me any thing, and of that when I have gained him looked pleased and surprised at for a lover
... my uncominonly dutiful manner. What an unconscionable long 1 glanced towards Wentworth who letter have I written! I wish it regarded me with admiration.- may be in my power to enliven, by * Then, bir,' continued I, • I will my pen, your solitary hours. i venture to tell you I do not lovė know you must not send letters kir Philip; I have doubted whether but by the permission, and, I supI felt a proper affection for hiin for pose, after the inspection of the some time ; but this last week 1 lady abhess ; but I hope 'those have examined my heart, and am you receive are sacred. Pray saHow convinced I can never be hapa tisfy me in this particular, or I py with him as my husband'. must desist from writing. I re
• Then, my sweet child,' said my main, my dear lady Amaranth's sinfather, you shall never marry cere and most affectionate friend, him. Will you, or shall I, acquaint
LETITIA WINSTANLEY. him with your determination?'
• If you please, sir, I should be [Miss Winstanley, in continuation.) glad to be excused the painful task, for I fear it will disturb him, and I am quite ashamed of myself my pity for him almost leads me for having been so long in answerto repent my resolution.'
ing your kind letter. You have I was seated close to my father set me easy with regard to the who held one of my hands; and privacy of mine to you, but I am when I had finished my fine senti- not much pleased with a corresmentalspecch,Mr.Wentworth took poudence where my friend's epis my other hand - Never before,' tles are perused by an old woman. said be, did my cousin appear so I do not wish you to write often lovely in my eyes. I see she can under such a restraint. You tell reflect and act generously.' . It di- me you do not approve of my ways, stresseş me,' said I, looking in his but you will keep my secret. face with a tender air, that you Abide by your promise, and I will should ever have doubted it. My look for approbation within my. vivacity will sometimes run away self. Then follows a long pious with me, but I trust I have a exhortation, I suppose, out of heart incapable of an ungenerous compliment to your old goveraction.'
nante. To this part of your letter What praises did I not now re- I make ho other answer-but I do ceive from my two auditors. They not like the subject. As for your almost inspired a wish in me to be fears that I shall not remain steady good. I retired and sat down, in the faith-Bet yourself at ease. vexed at having thus deprived my- I will not be a protestant whilst self of a lover. The hope, however, my father is one. Think you that
Iwill after making the poble stand thought I." He is neither, but I have, and the spirited alterca- worse than either. I am convinced
sotne subject, confets myself mistaken? sestes' his heart. I will not, how: No; forbid it pride, resolution erer, have a tival, I am resolved; and true womanhood. So nucli and the greater the difficulties the in answer to yours-Now for my greater my triumph. But I will own affairs. :
Then ten you iny reason for supposing My father has been very ill, and I have a rivál.. confined to his bed : we thought We went from the garden into we should have lost him. He is the library; the instant we eltéréd better, but in a very precarious I saw Wentworth's eye fixed on a state: I waited ou himn with great paper: it was a copy of tetšes iny attention, and my filial conduetinulatto girl had, by my orders, has, I think, won the heart of that morning written. She writes Wentworth the grand object of a fine hand, and I asked him my solieitude. He has searcely which he admired ifiost, the poetry quitted the sick room, and, I be or the hand-writing. It is only lieve, sincerely felt all I have the writing,' said he, that attracted feigned. I. confess I see nothing thy' notice. It is so like the handshocking in the death of an old writing of a lady I know; that I rich father. To be independent can scarcely believe it is not and my own mistress! Oh, charm her's.'. ing! When he was at the worst Suppose it should be hers," he called us both to him, and said I, and I should be acquaintweeping over us said, he had by ed with her! Impossible!' said will made us both equal heirs of he; I am not so happy !' his fortune, I think, said he to Aglow on his countenance, and Wentworth, there is enough to , an earnestness of expressidn, con satisfy you who have not an am- 'vinced the that the lady in question bitious mind. Return to England was not indifferent to him. and enjoy it. But I bequeath you • Ah! cousin,' said I; .you are a far more precious trust--To your not ir[sensible: soine English guardianship do I commit my dear lady, Letitia.-Letitia, do you receive Let us take a book,' said he; your cousin as your friend and the subject to me is a painful protector.'
one.' Wentworth was much affected; • Then we will avoid it, Mr. he called it a precious trust which Wentworth,' said I; giving him a it should be his pride and happi- book. ness to guard. We retired from What had already passed was the chamber, and walked into the sufficient to satisfy me for the pregarden, whilst my father composed sent, and I doubt not to get all himself to sleep. Here was an op- out of him in time. My father portunity for him to say a hundred from this time mended, and we fine things; instead of which, are inseparable. I have an opwould you believe it he dwelt portunity of playing off all my on nothing but my father'o praiges, charins on Wentworth. My and his hopes of his recovery. Art father appears pleased with my thou a fool or insensibility itself, conduct, and I really think has