19 I ordered Mrs. Lamb to have an eye to my prisoners, and heartily tired as I was between dancing and travelling, I undressed and threw myself into bed. I slept till six o'clock in the evening, then rose and put myself into a habit fitter for my journey than in which I came, and which I had sent in a post-trunk before me by the messenger whom I had employed to a prized lamb of my coming. Mrs. Gerard was not yet stirring. I called for Rachel, and asked her how she had come off with her lady upon telling her the manner of her falling into my snare. Rachel told me her lady wandered mightily at my art, and said I was the strangest gentleman that ever was born. My friend Rachel softened the expression I fancy. I am sure Mrs. Gerard did not call me a strange gentleman. She said her mistress smiled two or three times at her relation, particularly at my giving her the keys. I found upon the whole that my conduct in securing to her her money in her jewels, together with the attendance of her maid, had a good deal appeased resentment. As Mrs. Gerard did not rise till near eight o'clock, I had ordered as elegant a dinner as the house could afford, and the lady, having put herself into a gentile disable, with great alacrity, sat down to table, and did not appear to have fretted away her appetite. I would suffer no one to attend but Rachel. I told Mrs. Gerard that I purposed setting out for Dover that night, and that as it could not be supposed her maid should be able to ride so far, and that a second carriage with four horses, as less might not be able to keep pace with us, would be liable to observation. I would, if she pleased, resign my place in the chariot to Mistress Rachel, and attend her myself on horseback. She answered me coldly. Since she must go it was indifferent to her who was to be her companion. Although the motive I offered for this manner of travelling was not without its weight, yet my true reason was to avoid being boxed up so long again with Mrs. Gerard. My time was not yet come for explanations, and I was afraid of being on good terms with her too soon. The remainder of the evening was spent by her and her maid in carefully packing up the baggage, which had been brought in a confused huddle to the inn. Mrs. Gerard had a convenient trunk bought at Rochester for the purpose, and assisted herself in laying them up safely. She equipped herself in a smart riding-dress, and at eleven o'clock without any great reluctance permitted me to put her and her maid into the chariot. The inn had no company in it, at least that we saw, and our host was too discreet to let any of his servants be in the way. I mounted my horse and triumphantly galloped off with my prize. We reached over early next morning, and immediately got on board the packet. The lady by this time appeared so perfectly serene, that I believe in my soul I should not have got rid of her if I had desired her to have gone back again. But she had assumed a new heir and affected a fine tender melancholy in her countenance. I guessed at her thoughts, and found afterwards my conjecture right. Will you believe me, Sir George, when I tell you, the baggage had formed serious, honourable designs upon my person? Fact upon my word! I saw it presently—you know my knack of reading people's minds in their faces—and was not sorry for the discovery, for, though I determined not on any account to encourage such a wild expectation, yet I intended to make a discreet use of it, besides I knew it would afford me a handle for keeping a respectable distance. We landed next evening. She had been very sick at sea, and continued so much out of order that she was put to bed as soon as we got to the inn. She ordered her maid not to stir from her the very thing I wished, so that I had nothing to do but to be very troublesome in my inquiries after her health, and very sorry for her indisposition. The next morning, however, said all to rights, and after congratulating her on her recovery and the revival of her beauty, I told her I meant to carry her to Boulogne. Although I had sent Peevee the night before to take lodgings for us in a private house, which he knew. I found that neither Mrs. Gerard nor her maid spoke French—a circumstance I was very glad of, though the former bitterly lamented her having forgot it. She made not the least objection to the travelling from Calais to Boulogne as she had done before. Her late indisposition gave me a pretense for insisting on Rachel's attending her in the chariot. The lodgings Peevee had taken were very handsome. Our apartments were on the same floor separated only by a lobby. Mistress Rachel had a little bed fitted up for her by my directions in her lady's dressing room. Thus far I had sailed before the wind, but now came the difficult part of my task. It was impossible for Mrs. Gerard to conceive that anything but downright love for her person could have induced me to do what I had done. I had actually ran away with her, put myself to some hazard, and what in her estimation was no small matter, some expense, too. No other motive had appeared in all my conduct towards her, and though I had not absolutely made love to her, yet what other construction could my actions bear? For my words, to say the truth, were equivocal. She must necessarily have concluded that I had no other view but a piece of gallantry with her. Her designs on me were of a much more serious nature, and her vanity made her imagine that notwithstanding my thorough knowledge of her character, her cunning joined to my passion might lead me into her snare. Now I had two nice points to consider of, and two difficulties to surmount. The first was not by any part of my conduct to carry the deception so far as to give her the least room to hope I could be mad enough to marry her. As bad as she was and extravagant as I am, I could not think of doing even to gain my favourite point. The other was to keep up such an appearance of gallantry towards her as she must naturally expect, and at the same time avoid all approaches which usually for run the catastrophe of Anne Amour, than which nothing was more repugnant to my wishes. The steer between those two extremes was the difficult task, particularly the latter, for between ourselves I began to be much more afraid of her than she was of me. I knew it would be impossible for me to keep up the fast long. The sooner it was over the better, and therefore I determined to enter on my part directly. I had been ruminating on my project all the way as I rode. When we arrived at Pelloyne, I found myself a little out of order having caught cold, and as I was really somewhat feverish, a thought entered my head that this illness might aid me in my design. When we came to our lodgings I made my excuses to Mrs. Gerard for not being able to attend her. I told her I had found myself ill, and must be obliged to go to bed. She said she was very sorry, and perhaps she spoke truth. I left her in possession of her new apartment with her maid Rachel, there being strangers to the language of the country cut off all communication with the people of the house who could not speak English. I introduced Peevee to them, whom they had never seen before, for he had taken particular care to keep out of their view during the whole journey, as a gentleman who was to be their interpreter, and having thus settled my household I retired to my bed-chamber. Not well, nor sick enough to go to bed, I threw myself however down on it, and after revolving in my mind all the occurrences of the past three or four days, I started up again, sat down to the desk, and have given you, my bidolph, a faithful narrative of my proceedings down to the present period of time, being November the twenty-fifth, eight o'clock in the evening. You may soon expect to have the second part of this, my delectable history, showing how Orlando not being able to prevail with all his eloquence on the fair and beautiful, as fierce and inexorable, Princess Gerardina, to put the finishing hand to his adventures and most wonderful exploits did, his wroth being moved thereby like an un-gentle knight, bury his sword in her snow-white but savage and unrelenting breast, where at, being stung with remorse, he afterwards kills himself. Would not this be a pretty conclusion of my adventures? No, no, Sir George, expect better things from my friend. I hope my night-air entry will not end so tragically. But hasten to make my peace with that gracious creature your sister, yet why do I name her and myself in the same sentence? She cares not for me, thinks not of me, or if she does it is with contempt. I said this before, and I must repeat it, but tell her what I have done was with a view to promote her happiness. Oh, may she be happy whatever becomes of me. I know the means I have used will make her angry, but try to make her forgive the means for the motive's sake. Tell her as much of this wild story as you think proper, but do not let her see it in my wild rambling language that is only fit for your own eye. Your mother, I know, is out of all patience with me. I am black enough in her opinion already. This last action, as far as she is yet known of it, will dye me ten shades deeper. But pray, put in a word for me there too, I know she will say that we are not to return evil for evil, and that it is not lawful to do evil, though to bring forth good. But put her in mind that there are such things as pious frauds, though by the by I do not take this of mine to be one of them, that wicked people are to have their arts opposed by arts, and that good people have not only been permitted, but commanded to execute vengeance on sinners. And you may hint at the children of Israel's being ordered to spoil the Egyptians, though far be it from me to spoil Mrs. Gerard of anything she has. This however, in as many wise sayings as you can collect for the purpose, you may string together, and be sure to tell her, I have hopes of reclaiming Mrs. Gerard from her evil courses, and do not despair of prevailing on her to go into a nunnery. Mrs. Gerard, you must know, was bred a Roman Catholic, though she conformed on marrying Captain Gerard. Now, put all this into decent language, fit for that very good woman's ears, for good I must call her, notwithstanding she was inexorable to me. I am fatigued with writing so long a letter, I feel my disorder increase upon me. But I will be let blood, and soon, hope to give you a good account of my undertaking. Meanwhile, if I am not quite reprobated, write me a line, directed under cover to Monsieur Le Roux, at the post-house Boulogne. Farewell, my dear Badoff. Sick or well, I am ever yours. O. F. December the 2nd.  What a madcap is this! Pray, my dear, are you not astonished at him? I am sure I am. I had not an opportunity to finish the copying of this very long letter, which I began yesterday morning till very late this night. My poor mother has been so restless and so much out of order these two days. I desired her leave to read to her Mr. Faulkland's history, for I can call it by no other name, as I sat by her bedside. She told me I must let her know the substance of what he said, as it would fatigue her too much to attend to so long an epistle. You would have smiled, my Cecilia, at my good-parent's amazement, when I told her Mr. Faulkland's proceedings, and his reasons for them. She would scarce give credit to it at first, and I was obliged to repeat several circumstances to her over again. And so, said she, this was all on your account, and he had really no ill design on Mrs. Gerard. I am glad of this for Miss Birchall's sake, and shall be impatient to tell her of it. I begged of my mother to wait a while for the result of Mr. Faulkland's adventure, before she mentioned anything of the matter to Miss Birchall. We do not yet know, said I, how this matter may turn out. Mr. Faulkland, to be sure, will make haste to communicate to my brother the issue of this odd affair, and it will then be time enough to inform the young lady. My mother unwillingly consented to postpone a discovery which she knew would be so agreeable to Miss Birchall. She understood her humanity, but think that, good and prudent as she is, she is too unreserved in her confidences. This strange business is, I think, at present, in too critical a suspense to trust the knowledge of it to anybody. If Mr. Faulkland fails in his design, his avowal of it will be far from serving me. Sir George was with us for a few minutes today, only to exalt in Mr. Faulkland's recovered credit. Has he not well explained himself? said he. Oh, I knew there must have been some mystery at the bottom of that conduct which surprised us all so much. There's a man for you. Show me another who would carry his noble disinterested love to such lengths. My mother did not like that he should run on in that strain and therefore stopped him. The end crowns all, Sir George. Let us see how your friend will conduct himself through this ticklish affair. Let him get through it how he will, answered my brother a little bluntly. I think Sidney has obligations to him she ought never to forget. December the 16th. More intelligence, my dear. Stranger, and stranger still. I am sorry I sent off my last packet as I am sure you must be impatient for the conclusion of Mr. Faulkland's adventure, and then what sorry stuff has the interval been filled up with. But I will now make you amends. My mother is better too, thank God, and everything promises well. Sir George has had a second packet from Boulogne. The continuation of Mrs. Gerard's history as follows. To George from Faulkland. How rude is the hand of sickness, my bid-off! It had liked to have spoiled one of the best projects that ever was undertaken and consigned to oblivion and action worthy of immortality. I have been very ill since I last wrote to you.  Mrs. Gerard was during that time closely attended by Pee-Ve, whose services I dispensed with on that account. He told me she appeared uneasy at my situation and inquired constantly and kindly too after my health. When I grew well enough to sit up, I begged the favour of seeing her in my chamber. She came very readily and seemed downright anxious for my recovery. I told her I hoped she had been treated with proper care and respect during my illness. She said, Mr. Pee-Ve was a very obliging good-natured man and had endeavoured to make her confinement as easy to her as possible. The plan she had formed of turning to the most lasting advantage, the inclination she supposed I had for her, inclined her to assume a very different behaviour from what was natural to her. The weakness of my condition, while it afforded me a pretense for a more cold and language behaviour than I could with any colour of put on it any other time, gave her an opportunity of playing off her arts and facilitated my design beyond my hopes. She was seated by my bedside. Our first conversation consisted of nothing but complaints on my side and condolments on hers. I sighed several times and she sighed in return. Mrs. Gerard said, I, you are afflicted, but my illness has no share in your concern. Something else oppresses you. You regret the being separated from Mr. Arnold, and I am always the object of your hatred. Neither one nor the other answered she in a kind voice.   As for Mr. Arnold, though I own my former weakness in regard to him, yet I hope I have something to plead in my excuse. I was married very early to an old man, and had never experienced the happiness of reciprocal love. He died and left me destitute. Mr. Arnold's generous, though I must confess unwarantable passion, rescued me from distress. I did not know he was married when I first unwarily accepted of his addresses, and it was too late to retreat before I found out. Otherwise the universe should not have tempted me to have listened to him. In the midst of the affluence I obtained from him, it often grieved me to think of the injury I did his wife. There is nothing Mr. Falkland so grating to a generous mind, and I think I may venture to assert that mine is one, as to live in a state of dependence and at the same time owe that very dependence to a vice that you disdain. I was delighted to find that she had got into this strain. It was the thing I wished, but durst hardly hopeful without abundance of trouble on my part and a dissimulation that was irksome to me. I knew she'd studied this speech and got it by rote to answer her own purpose, but in this, as is generally the case of designing people, she overshot herself and became the dupe to her own artifice. I lay hold of the cue she gave. Oh, madam, you charm me.  Happy would it be for all your sex after having deviated from the paths of virtue if they could return to them with so good a grace, so just a sense of their errors. To you, sir," said she, with a solemn air, I am indebted for my present resolutions. I hope from this time forward that my life will be irreproachable. I hope so too, madam. I guessed she understood these words as favouring her design. It was not meat to deceive her, a little mental reservation you know bit of. She went on, little thinking she was forwarding my plan when she only meant to promote her own. I hope, Mr. Arnold, will be as sensible of his fault as I am of mine and that he will never fall into the like in discretion again. I believe there can be no true happiness, but between a married pair who sincerely love each other. Good, good, thought I, sure my better genius prompts the woman to speak thus. Ah, Mrs. Gerard, how exactly do your thoughts correspond with mine? How just are all your sentiments! What a true relish have you for virtue! Yes, I hope with you that Mr. Arnold will be able to tread in your steps. It is a pity he has not your noble example before him. Mrs. Arnold is a good woman, and he might still live with her intolerable contentment if he can get the better of his irregular passion for you. What a noble triumph of virtuous resolution would this be if you yourself were the instrument to bring this about. For Mrs. Arnold and her brother's sake, as well as your own, I wish this were feasible. I would do anything in my power, said she, thinking she obliged me by the declaration, but I know not by what means such an event can be brought to pass. I was afraid to urge the matter further. I was within a hair's breadth of gaining my point, but did not think it prudent to press too forward. We'll think of it another time, said I, and groaned heavily as if my spirits were fatigued with talking. She took the hint. I am afraid I have tired you. You've had talked too much. I answered her faintly. You are very good. She curtsied to me and retired with a majestic step. I saw her no more that day. She had got upon stilts, and it was not yet time to take her down. Tomorrow may produce a wonder. I will wait for it. I am really weak, but begin to recover my spirits. End of section 19 Section 20 of Memoirs of Miss Sidney Bidolf This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Memoirs of Miss Sidney Bidolf by Francis Sheridan Volume 2 continued Beloyne December 6 Nothing is so conducive to the body's health as the mind's being at ease. I have proved the truth of this observation. My soul had been wracked with suspense and uncertainty during my illness. The uneasy state of my mind increased my disorder. The disorder itself had chiefly given rise to my apprehensions, as pain and sickness are naturally accompanied with a gloominess of thought. Thus the cause and its effects were united in mutual league against me and reciprocally assisted each other to plague and torment me. My fears were entirely on Mrs. Arnold's account. What thought I would be the consequence of my project in case of my death? Mrs. Gerard will return back to England and upon telling her story will be received again by Arnold, their union perhaps established as firmly as before, and poor Mrs. Arnold's hopes ruined forever.  Doubtful may be of my sincerity as to the motives I urged to you for my conduct. On the other hand, if these motives should by any means happen to be suspected by Mrs. Gerard, it might be the means of producing the direct contrary effect from what I intended and instead of banishing Arnold's cruel suspicions of his lady only served to strengthen them, for I knew Mrs. Gerard would leave nothing unsaid or undone for this horrid purpose. And it is not everyone, Sir George, whose hearts are enlarged enough to suppose a man may now and then take a little pains from disinterested principles. This last suggestion of my thoughts made me almost mad and actually brought on a delirium and what may seem a paradox, though it is literally true, the total deprivation of my senses for two days was the means of my recovering them afterwards, for I am sure, had I retained enough of them to have ruminated longer on this fatal supposition and my disorder had still threatened me with death, I should have run mad. The care of a skillful physician recalled me from the precincts of the grave. The strength of a constitution naturally good, joined to all the resolution I could muster, did the rest. The first use I made of my recovered reason was to consult with myself in what manner or by what means I should prevail on Mrs. Gerard to lend a helping hand to my design. Her leaving Arnold to go off with me and to all human appearance with her own consent was a material point gained, but the most important of all, and without which everything else would be fruitless, was to get her to acknowledge under her own hand the injuries she had done, Mrs. Arnold, by her violent insinuations to her husband. This was the grand object of all my wishes. This, you will say, was difficult. I confess it did then appear so to me. I had not at first weighed all the consequences of my enterprise with that deliberation that I ought. The principal object I had in view was the separating Mrs. Gerard and Mr. Arnold and raising his indignation against her on account of the apparent infidelity on her side. To say the truth I had not considered what I was to do with her when I had her. Two things I had resolved on. The one was not to let her return to England, the other to provide for her in whatever way she would put it in my power. The devoting myself to her accepted. In such a manner as should leave her no room to reproach me with having injured her temporal welfare. During my illness I had resolved all these things in my mind. The last, that is the providing for Mrs. Gerard, was not a matter in which I expected to meet many difficulties. The other appeared very formidable. Several methods presented themselves but none of them pleased me and I rejected them one after the other and, to tell you my mind honestly, I was almost resolved on using compulsion and frightening the poor woman into compliance for I preferred even this to artificial dealings. I had already used more than I could have possibly brought myself to on any other occasion in the world and I think I should have threatened her with a nunnery, the Bastille or even an inquisition sooner than a failed if she herself had not gone beyond expectation, beyond hope, almost beyond the evidence of my senses. Led me, as it were, to request the thing of her which of all others I most despaired of her consenting to or even hearing proposed with patience. And yet, notwithstanding the seeming strangeness of this, it was nothing but what was very natural and most consonant to her own designs. Blinded, and as I may say infatuated by vanity, she imagined that as I had taken such uncommon pains to obtain her I must love her with an uncommon degree of passion and that her steadily refusing any dishonourable proposals might induce me rather than lose her to make her my wife. In order to prepare me the better for this, no means were more natural than for her to assume the error of penitent to seem sorry and ashamed of her past sins and resolve on a virtuous course for the future. At the worst, that is, if she found I was not disposed to be as virtuous as herself, she knew she might play an after-game and could easily relax by degrees from the severity of her chastity, accordingly as I made it worth her while. This was the master key to her behaviour and when once I had got it, which I soon did, it was easy to unlock her breast. She came into my room the next morning without an invitation and only the previous ceremony of sending Rachel to inquire how I did and to tell me if I were well enough to rise, observe her nicety, she would sit half an hour with me. I had enjoyed such tranquillity of heart since my last conference with her and had rested so well the preceding night that I found myself quite another thing from what I was the day before and, accepting a little weakness, I was as well as ever I was in my life. I was up and dressed, and you may be sure, sent a suitable answer to her kind message which soon brought the lady, sailing with an imperial port, into my chamber. After some servilities passed on both sides, she, by way of bringing her own interests on the tapas, re-assumed the topic of our yesterday's conversation. You can't imagine, Mr. Falkland, said she, how easy I am in my mind since I have reconciled myself to the loss of Mr. Arnold. I own—I had a regard for him, but I think it had more of gratitude than love in it, for though he is an agreeable man to say the truth, he never was quite to my taste. He had always something too formal about him. I took the liberty to ask her how she first came acquainted with Mr. Arnold, and, as you may not know it, I will give you the story. She answered with a profound sigh. It was by mere accident I first saw him. After the death of Captain Gerard, which happened in a little more than a year after we left Bath, for the gout poor man got into his stomach not long after we returned home, and the crocodile pretended to drop a tear. I went to London in order to solicit for my pension. As I had formally been a Roman Catholic and had not publicly renounced that persuasion, some difficulties arose in the business, and a friend of my deceased husband, who had undertaken the affair for me, happened to be an intimate of Mr. Arnold's, and knowing he had an influence with the secretariat war, endeavored to interest him in my favour by representing my situation in the most affecting light he could to him. He kindly undertook to interfere for me, and was as good as his word, but could not surmount the difficulty of the objection which was made to my claim. He happened one morning, unluckily for me, to call in at my friend's lodgings to tell him of his ill success. I, impatient to know how my affair went on, had dropped in to inquire about it a few minutes before him, and was sitting in the dining-room when Mr. Arnold entered. I was in my weeds, and my melancholy looks, I believe, made Mr. Arnold conjecture I was the person for whom he had so kindly concerned himself. He told my friend he was sorry to inform him that though he had used all means in his power with regard to the affair in which he had employed him, he found it was impossible to affect the business, and I am the more concerned, said he, turning towards me, as I am afraid this lady is to be the sufferer. My relation said I was the person for whom he had been so good as to intercede. I returned Mr. Arnold thanks, not without tears, at the uncomfortable prospect I had before me, for I had then nothing to depend on but my small jointure in Kent. I was about to take my leave, but observing it rained, desired my friend to give his servant leave to call me a chair. Mr. Arnold very politely desired I would permit him to set me down, as his chariot waited at the door. I would have excused myself, but my relation said, it is in his way, child, and since you have no hopes of a pension, you ought to be sparing of chair hire. Mr. Arnold very obligingly offered me his hand and led me to his chariot. He set me down at my lodgings, and that parting desired permission to wait on me. The fatal consequence of our acquaintance! It was impossible for me to foresee, for I never had the least hint given me, either from my own relation, or Mr. Arnold himself, that he was a married man, till he had so far secured my gratitude by repeated acts of generosity, that it was impossible for me to refuse him the return he demanded. Too grateful heart, said I, pretending to believe her Kent, what a pity they were not destined to reward a poorer love. But I thought, madam, you really had enjoyed a pension. It was not necessary, she answered, that I should let the world suppose otherwise. I was not at all known when I first came to town. Mr. Arnold's excessive profuseness, quite against my inclination, threw me into a more expensive way of living than before. I found myself obliged to account for it to the few acquaintance I had by all the probable means I could devise. For this purpose I pretended that I had not only obtained a pension, but had also a fortune left me by the death of a relation. This was believed as nobody troubled their heads to inquire whether it was true or not. Mr. Arnold was passionately fond of the country, and always past his summers there. But, as he could not think of parting with me, he was sadly at a loss how to have me near him, without bringing on us both, the observation of an inquisitive neighbourhood, such as all country places abound in, if I went down, quite a stranger as I was into Essex. Particularly, as he told me, there were two families near Arnold Abbey who made it their business to pry into other people's affairs. These were Lady Grimston, a censorious old woman, and the parson of the parish, who was a mighty strict man of whom Mr. Arnold seemed to stand in some awe. He therefore determined against my going into that part of the world. But, having casually heard me speak of my little cottage in Kent, where poor Captain Gerard and I had lived for two or three years, he asked me whereabouts it was, and was delighted to find it joined his own estate at South Park, and was within a mile of his house. He begged of me to go down to my own house, which he insisted on furnishing elegantly for me, and obliged me also to keep a chariot. I, though unwillingly, found myself under a necessity of complying. About a fortnight after I was settled at Ashby, Mr. Arnold and his family came down. Then it was that for the first time I saw his lady. I went to pay my compliments to her, as every gentile family in the neighbourhood did, and I own I never saw her without feeling myself shocked to death at the thoughts of the injury I did her, for I really believe Mrs. Arnold is a very well-meaning woman. Oh, thou scorpion, muttered I to myself, and yet thou hast pursued her to affliction and ruin. That Mrs. Arnold is a well-meaning woman, said I coldly, I have no doubt, yet you see Mr. Arnold's opinion of her virtue was not strong enough to be proof against suspicions, for it is most certain that if he had not given credit to your representations of his wife conduct he would not have gone to such lengths to have parted with her, for Arnold had always some regard to appearances. My representation, sir, with a look of astonishment, pray, do not lay more to my charge than I deserve. What the particular reasons were which induced Mr. Arnold to part with his wife, I will not say, but whatever his suspicions were they never took their rise from me. I found she intended to brazen this denial out, but as it was absolutely necessary to my design to bring her to confession of this particular act of perfidy I resolved to lead her into it in such a way as should at least mortify her pride. Come, come, my dear Mrs. Gerard, said I, I know you are above concealing any past failings that you are resolved to mend. I know very well that it was your insinuations and yours only that kindled the fire of jealousy in Arnold's breast. Such arts are not uncommon in lovers. You loved him then and wished to have him entirely to yourself, and a wife, though a forsaken one, is still entitled to so much attention from her husband as a fond mistress may think robs her of too much. I know this was the case and it is natural, but were you not an unmerciful little tyrant to involve me in the mischief and put it into the man's noddle that I had designed upon his wife? The easy manner in which I affected to speak of this affair seemed to reconcile her a little to the charge, but the last part of it which regarded myself struck her all of a heap. She had no notion that I knew it. She was going to speak to deny the accusation, I suppose, and therefore I prevented her, and taking her by the hand, come now, said I, deal with me ingenuously, and if you would persuade me that you are really in earnest and mean to repair those little lapses which you have inconsiderately been led into, tell me truly, did you really believe that I ever had any thoughts of an amour with Mrs. Arnold? I chose to give my inquiry this turn that she might with less shame to herself by laying hold on the hint acknowledged her guilt. She hesitated for an answer and I guessed she was considering whether to persist in denying the whole charge against her, or avail herself of the handle I had given her and make a sort of merit of her sincerity by pretending to believe what she was thoroughly convinced there was not the least foundation even to suspect, but what her own wicked suggestions had encouraged in the unfortunate Arnold. Her silence, thus rightly interpreted by me, made me go on. You see I know all your secrets and you are not the woman I take you for if you conceal your real sentiments in this particular. More of my quiet depends on it than you are aware of and I withdrew my hand from hers with a serious and almost resenting air. She appeared disturbed and in a good deal of confusion, but recovering herself, why really, Mr. Falkland, I can't say, but I had some suspicion of what you mention. I was no stranger to your fondness for Mrs. Arnold before she was married and there was nothing very surprising in a disappointed lover's renewing his hopes when he thought the neglect which a lady met with from her husband might incline her to be less obdurate to a man she was once known to favour so much. This was enough. I did not think it by any means necessary to press her to a father explanation. What she said was a sufficient acknowledgement of her fault, though the cunning sorceress had turned the hint, which I had indeed thrown out on purpose, to her own advantage and had the effrontery to avow an opinion which had never before entered into her imagination. I found it necessary now to carry on the farce by assuring her I had never entertained a thought of Mrs. Arnold's dishonour and that though I made no great scruple of robbing a man of his mistress, yet I thought it a crime of the blackest die to deprive him of the affection or fidelity of his wife. The serious manner in which I spoke this a little disconcerted, Mrs. Gerard. Well, said she, I can only say that I am very sorry I entertained so false a suspicion and more so as it has produced such unhappy consequences. But I hope Mr. Falkland will not believe that I meant him any injury. That I am sure you did not, said I, and yet this very affair has given me more uneasiness than you can imagine. For as Mrs. Arnold's brother is my most particular friend, he must think me the greatest of villains if I could entertain a thought of dishonouring his family. The fear of losing his friendship I own gives me more pain than I can express and there is nothing I would not do to exculpate myself to him. I am very unfortunate, cried Mrs. Gerard, pretending to wipe her eyes, to have been the occasion of so much uneasiness in anybody's family. I wish I had died before I was so unhappy as to meet with Mr. Arnold. If it had not been for him, I might now have been an innocent and a contented woman. And she really squeezed out a tear, though not of contrition. Dear Madam, again taking her hand, do not afflict yourself for what is past recalling. Contentment, nay, happiness, I hope, is yet within your reach. It will be your own fault if you do not lay hold of it. As for the unhappy family that I as well as you have contributed to distress, I wish from my heart there could be a reunion amongst them. Mr. Arnold's having lost you might perhaps incline him to turn his thoughts towards his wife if he were not prejudiced against her by the suspicious he had entertained of her virtue. This, I am afraid, will be an insuperable bar to their ever living together, unless your influence, which first gave birth to this jealousy, is still forcible enough to remove it. I wish it were in my power, said Mrs. Gerard. There is nothing I would not do to affect it. But what influence can I have on Mr. Arnold after what has happened? Suppose you were to write to him, said I. You and he probably may never meet again, and it would be an effort worthy indeed of a noble mind to repair the wrongs we have done to others by a candid acknowledgement of our own faults. Putting Mrs. Arnold out of the question, it is a reparation you own my character, for however light the world may make a piece of gallantry of the married woman, it is a matter of serious moment to me to acquit myself of the supposed crime to Sir George Bidolf. If you think, said she, that my writing to Mr. Arnold could produce such good effects, I am ready to do it, though I confess I hardly know how to address him, for he must be sure look upon me as the very reverse of what I really am, and thinks me without dispute an ungrateful woman. We can but try, said I, if it does not produce the desired effect it will not be your fault, and you will have the satisfaction to reflect that you have done your duty. I stepped to my escritoir while I was speaking and resolving not to give her time to call, took out pen, ink and paper, and laid them on a little writing table before her. If this unlucky breach, said I, were once made up, my mind would then be easy. She took the pen in her hand, but seemed irresolute, and at a loss how to begin. Come, madam, said I, and confute by your own example the received erroneous opinion that if a woman once strays from the paths of virtue she never returns to them. A false and ill-grounded opinion indeed, said she, lifting up her profane eyes as in penitence. What am I to say? You are to observe that my notes, as she went along while I dictated, are put between brackets. Bracket, begin. Close bracket. Dear sir, bracket, for I would be neither too familiar nor too cold, close bracket. The terms on which you and I have lived entitles you to an explanation of my reasons for leaving you so abruptly, and I hope the generosity of my motive will incline you to overlook the seeming unkindness of the action. Bracket, this you may assure yourself it will, when he comes to consider coolly. Close bracket. The unhappiness that I occasioned in your family by causing the separation of you and your wife has for a long time been a thorn in my heart, and the more so as besides the robbing her of your affections I own and take shame to myself in the confession. Bracket, how noble must he think this confession. Close bracket. That those aspersions which I threw on her had not the least foundation in truth. Close bracket. This is truly great. Close bracket. I always believed her perfectly innocent, but if I could have had the least possible doubt of it before, I must now be confirmed in that opinion by Mr. Falkland, who can have no reason for excusing or concealing facts of this nature from me at present. Bracket. Here she added of herself, repeating it first aloud to me, and I think the preference he has given me to her, now in her state of separation, is a convincing proof of this. An admirable argument. Her vanity would not let her slip this observation. Proceed, madam. Close bracket. True reasons of my insinuations against her were no other than that I could not bear to share your affections with anybody. Bracket, and a very sufficient reason too, which a man that loves can easily forgive. Close bracket. I knew that so long as she gave you no cause for complaint, you were too just to withdraw your whole heart from her, and nothing but the whole would content me. Bracket, still you see you show a great mind. True, said she, going on, but find reason for leaving him without apprising him of it. What are we to say for that? Oh, nothing more easy to execute. He will admire you the more for the reason I shall give. Come. Close bracket. My departing, without first making you acquainted with my desire, and going off with another person, may at first sight seem very strange. To tell you the real state of my heart, I found I could not trust to its firmness on the subject of parting with you. I loved you so that it was with pain and grief I made the resolution, and I knew too well that had you used any arguments, which to be sure you would have done to dissuade me, I, like an easy fool, would have given up all my good designs. Bracket, I am only afraid this will make him love you more than ever. She smiled as she continued to write. Close bracket. As for the other article, Bracket, this I was more puzzled to excuse than the first, but putting on a bold face I said, Madame, I hope you will not condemn me here while you excuse yourself. The saying you were run away with will knock all the rest on the head, and he may choose whether he will believe that you really intended to break off with him or not. Therefore that particular had better not be touched upon. Well, said she, get me out of this scrape as cleverly as you brought me into it. Fear not, said I. Go on. Close bracket. As for the other article, though I shall never love Mr. Falkland as I have done you, yet in him I have found a protector, and through his means I hope to pass the remainder of my life in a manner more suitable to a woman of a generous way of thinking than that wherein she considered herself as encroaching on the rights of another. I hope by this sacrifice which I have made of my love to a more heroic principle that I shall expiate my former offence and that you will follow my example so far as to make what reparation you can to the woman we have both injured. Bracket, how this must raise, how exalt you in his opinion? I think it must, cried she, bridling up her head as if they were really her own sentiments. Close bracket. I believe, said I, this is all that is necessary to be said. You may add in a proscript that as he furnished the house for you at Ashby everything in it is at his service together with your chariot and horses which were also his gifts. She demurred at this, and in the midst of her heroic said I wish I could get somebody to sell them for me privately and remit the money to me for since I am here I should like to see a little more of France before I returned. I told her that would look mean and be low a great mind. Well, said she, let them go. I owe all my servants a year's wages and another person about fifty pounds for a little temple he had just built in my garden and not quite finished when I came away. I think I better desire those debts to be discharged. I've always been very punctual in my dealings and would not for the world wrong anybody. You are in the right, said I, it will look honourable in you to desire those debts to be paid. She now proceeded to conclude her letter in the same style she had begun it and added a postscript to the purport I mentioned. I hastened to make her seal it up and direct it to Mr. Arnold at his house in London who I suppose has had the pleasure of receiving it before now for I dispatched it off directly. I flatter myself with the hope that it will have the desired effect on him. You will think perhaps that as I have managed it I have really given her a sort of merit with him in the acknowledgement of her fault and the pretended reason she gives for leaving him. No such thing, Sir George. Arnold is a man of too much sense and knows the world too well to be so deceived. I have been told by my Lord V who knows him perfectly that nobody judges better when he is not blinded by his passions. All her professions must go for nothing when facts are against her. Tis plain she went off with another man and to all appearances premeditatedly as her maid and her riches bore her company. Tis also plain by her own confession that this man stands well with her. As for her recanting her injurious aspersions on poor Mrs. Arnold Tis the only circumstance in her letter likely to gain belief as she could have no temptation to that but real compunction with which people of that kind are sometimes visited. And for the rest of her letter to any one of common understanding that lays circumstances together it will appear as I intended it should the contrivance of an artful jilt who having almost ruined the wretch she has had in her power would afterwards make a merit of deserting him. For they must be hardened reprobates indeed that would not if they could at least try to paliate their evil deeds. This is the light I expect Arnold will consider her in. I know he is hurt deeply in his fortune by this vile harpy. I hope the remnant may be sufficient to support your excellent sister if not in affluence at least with comfort should she regain her influence over him and submit to live with him again. Perhaps I am sure will be the consequence if he is not blind to his own happiness. I shall be impatient to know how the letter operates on him but this you are not likely to be let into and perhaps his pride may make him endeavour to conceal it from everybody. My Lord V I am sure will pick up some intelligence and send it to me. I think Mrs. Gerard's confession in regard to Mrs. Arnold to which she could have no interested motive, with the corroborating circumstances of my going off with her at a time when Mrs. Arnold was from a very young age and she had no interest in him, and she had no interest in him, and she had no interest in him, and she had no interest in him, and she had no interest in him, and Mrs. Arnold was from under her husband's protection, injured by him in the tenderest point, and dispersed by a barbarous and invidious world. All this, I say, must surely clear from all suspicion that admirable creature, for who that knows Mrs. Arnold would think that any man, except her husband, would prefer any woman upon earth to her. If this does not remove all the doubt of her conduct in Arnold, as well as in the rest of the world, my pains have been to little purpose, and I know no other human means that can be used to disabuse the mad credulity of that man. I pity him from my heart in his present situation, for it will be some time before he will be sensible of the good I have done him, and I dare swear the man is at this time so ungrateful, that if he could he would cut my throat. I do not want to have him know the extent of his obligation to me. I shall be satisfied to sit down in the contemplation of my meritorious actions without enjoying the fame of them. This greatness of mind I learnt of Mrs. Gerard, but to return. The having gained my material point put me into such spirits that I could have kissed Mrs. Gerard, a liberty which I assure you, however, I never presumed to take. She for her part seemed as well pleased with what she had done as I was. I praised her for the part she had acted, though I very much feared she would repent of it when we came to explanations, which I resolved should be on that very day. I told her I hoped she would oblige me with her company at dinner. She consented with a bow. I had ordered one to be got ready earlier than usual and directed that it should be in her apartment. We were told it was on table. I never saw Mrs. Gerard so agreeable as she was during dinner. She was in high spirits and good humour. I almost thought it a pity to let her down that day, but I considered, the longer her expectations were kept up, the greater would be her disappointment, and out of pure charity I determined to put her out of doubt. I had been told Mrs. Gerard was no enemy to a cheerful glass, but the design she had formed upon me put her on her guard and I observed she drank nothing but wine and water made very small. This, I was afraid, would not be sufficient to keep up her courage that I intended to say to her. I pretended to be disposed to drink and insisted on her helping me out with a flask of burgundy. With affected coyness she suffered me to fill her glass. The second offer I made her resistance was less. The third she made no objection at all and the fourth she filled for herself. The wine was excellent, not that poor sort which is commonly drunk in France. In short, we finished our bottle. I thought her now a match for what I had to say. I had made the glass, passed briskly, and had filled up the intervals with singing catches and rattling on any subject that came into my head. Mrs. Gerard, who no doubt expected I should make an advance of some kind or other, seemed to grow a little out of humour at my levity. I found the burgundy had been quite thrown away upon her and had had very little effect. She was silent for a few minutes and seemed to be considering of something. At last she opened, and I will give you the conversation that passed between us by way of dialogue. Mrs. G. Mr. Falkland, it is time that you and I should understand one another's meaning a little better than we do at present. You know very well that you have put an end to all my expectations in England. Indeed, if I were at liberty I could not have the face to return there again in any character, but that of your wife. I was obliged she had begun first and that, though I guessed at her views, she'd use so little caution in discovering them, as it at once roused in me an indignation which I could not suppress, and without which I could not have brought myself to mortify her as she deserved. Mr. F. My wife, madam, stopping her at that tremendous word, be pleased to tell me if I heard you right. Mrs. G. Yes, sir, it was your wife I said, if you think you and I are to live together on any other terms, you will find yourself exceedingly mistaken. I smiled and suffered her to go on. I thought, sir, stifling the anger that I saw rising, that the words which you yourself dictated in the letter which I just now wrote, where you say I had found in you a protector, and one by whose means I should be able to pass the rest of my life in a manner more suitable to a woman of a generous way of thinking than that wherein she considered herself as encroaching on the rights of another, were not these your own words, sir? Mr. F. They were, madam. To say the truth there was something equivocal in the paragraph, though when I desired her to write it this construction never entered into my head. Mrs. G. Then, sir, how am I to understand them? Mr. F. I protest, madam, you have forced a construction that I never once so much as dreamed of. Mrs. G. Why, Mr. Falkland, with a very brisk tone, do you fancy that by changing Mr. Arnold for you on any other conditions that I am such a mighty gainer by the bargain? Mr. F.  You have got as much from poor Arnold as you could expect. I am able to do better for you, and as I am nobody's property, it would certainly in that respect be rather a more eligible course. Mrs. G. Sir, you use me very ill. I do not expect such treatment. Mr. F. How, pray, madam, did I ever say I would marry you? Mrs. G. No, sir, but your behaviour has given me room to suppose that such a thing was in your thoughts. Mr. F. Are you not, then, the more obliged to me for treating you with such respect has made you fancy so? Mrs. G. Respect! Respect! muttering between her teeth. Mr. Falkland. And she stood up. There is not a man in England but yourself after what I have declared that would refuse making me his wife. Mr. F. What have you declared, Mrs. Gerard? Mrs. G. Why, have I not ingenuously owned my failings, showed myself sorry for them, quitted them and made all the reparation in my power? I was amazed to see how audaciously she had adopted as her own the sentiments which I had suggested to her. It was so like her that I could have laughed in her face. Mr. F.  I was stopped by a navish sneer which I could not subdue. She saw it and fired immediately, but strutted about the room to call herself. At last, for I sat very silent, looking at her and playing with one of the glasses. Mrs. G. Mr. Falkland, if you are disposed to have done trifling and will vouchsafe me a serious answer, pray tell me, are you absolutely determined not to marry me? Mr. F. Absolutely. Mrs. G. You are not serious, sure? Mr. F. My dear creature, why, sure, thou canst not be serious in asking me the question? Mrs. G. Sir, I am serious and expect a serious answer. Mr. F. Why, then, seriously, I have no more thoughts of marrying thee than I have of marrying the First Sultana in the Grand Seigneur Siraglio. Mrs. G. Very well, sir, very well, I am answered, and she walked quicker about the room than before. We were both silent, she, I suppose, expected that I should propose other terms and a settlement, and waited to try if I would speak. I had a mind to tease her a little and hum to tune. Mrs. G. You are advancing to me and making a low curtsy with the most scornful and sarcastical air. May I presume to inquire what your mightiness's pleasure is in regard to me? Do you intend to keep me for your nurse against your next illness, or to send me to the Grand Seigneur Siraglio to wait upon the First Sultana? Mr. F. Neither, carelessly and looking another way. I have yet determined which way I shall dispose of you. Mrs. G. Dispose of me? Dispose of me? Why, sure, the man has lost his senses. Mr. F. Look you, Mrs. Gerard, we will play no longer at cross-purposes. Sit down and be calm for a few minutes until you hear what I have to say. She did so with a kind of impatience in her looks that informed me that she made a very free proposal without any great danger of her resentment. Mr. F. How long have you and I been acquainted? Mrs. G. Lord, what is that question to the purpose? Mr. F. It is only in order to my desiring you would look back, upon recollection ask yourself if you ever had any reason to look upon me as your lover. Mrs. G. I made that observation to you when we were travelling together. What is the use of it now? Mr. F. Did I, in the course of our journey, declare myself to be such or drop the least hint of devoting myself to you on any condition? Mrs. G. We did not talk on the subject at all. Mr. F. Did I ever presume, on the advantage of having you in my power, to venture on the smallest liberty with you, or ever deviate from that respect in my behaviour which I was used at all other times to treat you with? Mrs. G. I do not say you did, and it was that very behaviour that inclined me to imagine you had other thoughts than those I find you have. Mr. F. You drew a wrong conclusion, though it is to be confessed not a very unnatural one. Such a behaviour might have been so construed by a lady otherwise circumstance than you were. But I think a woman of your sagacity might have concluded that with Mrs. Gerard a man would first have tried his fortune upon gentler terms than those of matrimony. Mrs. G. Well, well! I do not understand your riddles to the point. Mr. F. Why the point, in short, is this, that without any particular designs on your person my whole view in carrying you out of England was to break off your intercourse with Mr. Arnold. She seemed thunderstruck, but recovering herself. And is this what I am to hear calmly? And she flounced off the chair to the other end of the room. I followed her and taking her hand begged she would again sit down and hear me out. I drew her to a chair and gently set her down in it. Mr. F. Now for your own sake hear me with patience. Violence or perverseness will be of no use to you. Mrs. G. Very well, sir. I am your prisoner, your slave, at present. Say what you pleased is your turn now. Mr. F. Well, then, madam, as I said before, I really never had any designs upon you merely on your own account. I allow you to be a very fine woman and capable of inspiring love in any man that sees you, but I must tell you plainly that love has no share in my conduct. I saw stifled rage in her face, but I proceeded.  It was, as I said, to dissolve the union between you and Mr. Arnold, and my reasons for wishing to do so are these. Mr. Arnold is married to one of the best women living, for whom I have the highest respect and esteem, and whom I once adored. That lady has, by your influence over her husband, not only been thrown out from his heart, but even thrust out from his house. But the calamity stops not there.  You have brought shame and grief into a worthy family. Lady Bidolf, an excellent woman, has not been able to overcome the shock of the barbarous treatment her daughter has met with. Her brother, the beloved friend of my heart, suffers equal distress, for though he is conscious of his sister's innocence, he feels the wounds that her reputation has received. Nor can he possibly redress the mischief, as his sister's injuries spring from a cause which her delicacy will not permit to be scrutinised. Her two poor children are left without a mother, she herself almost without a friend, and sinking every day under the weight of such complicated misery. As for Mr. Arnold himself, I profess no personal regard for him, I scarce know him. But, for his family's sake, I would on any other occasion risk my life to save him from ruin, for ruin you have almost brought on him. I am no stranger to the sums he has lavished on you, his purchasing and employment for one of your brothers, and redeeming another from a prison. You have lost nothing by my proceedings, but what I shall make up tenfold for you, if you behave so as to deserve my kindness. I have now laid before you the true reasons for my conduct. I hope that by breaking the enchantment that tied Mr. Arnold's heart, and blinded his understanding, he may be induced to do justice to his injured lady and her family. If this comes to pass, as I have strong reason to hope, I have no doubt of the lady's character being retrieved. Groundless calamities generally die of themselves, unless industriously kept alive by malice. Mrs. Arnold's blameless conduct, the friendship her brother is all along continued to favour me with, joined to this last apparent proof of my attachment to you, will I am certain in the eyes of the world, I quit her of all suspicion of guilt. Your letter to Mr. Arnold Will, as far as relates to your own opinion of her, give unquestionable evidence of her innocence. Now, Mrs. Gerard, lay your hand on your heart and answer me, if I have not given you reasons which, though they not be satisfactory to you, are in themselves of weight sufficient to justify my conduct. I had watched her countenance narrowly during my discourse, which she had listened to without once looking at me. I saw I had shocked and even confounded her, but I saw no remorse, no contrition in her looks. All artifice was now at an end, and she unmasked the fiend directly. She started off the chair with the looks and gestures of a fury, and fixing her eyes, which had really something diabolical in them in that instance, steadily on me. You wretch! she cried with a voice answerable to her looks.  And she stamped on the floor with the air of an Amazon. Do you think you shall carry on this fine contrived enterprise? No. If I perish for it, I will have vengeance. Mr. Arnold shall know how I have been deceived and betrayed, and I will at least have the satisfaction of getting your life if I lose everything besides. A burst of malignant tears now gushed from her eyes, but she robbed them of their efficacy by mixing them with the bitterest implications upon me. She cursed even the innocent Mrs. Arnold, you and the whole family, and her own folly, in being blinded by the arts of such a worthless milk-soap as myself. I let her give vent to her passion, calmly walking about the room all the time, only now and then casting an eye on her for fear she should have rushed on me with a pen-knife. For I have not the least doubt, if she had had such an instrument about her, she would have made an attempt that might have given a very tragical turn to my adventures. When she had done sobbing, I addressed her in a very stern voice, for I found I had no baby to deal with, and therefore resolved to frighten her into submission. I told you before, madam, that violence would be of no use to you.   To think of getting out of my hands would be vain, for it is as impracticable as flying. No mortal knows where you are but the people of this house who are strangest to your name and circumstances, and if they knew both, they are so totally at my devotion that it would not avail you. I shall cut off all possibility of a correspondence to England. What then must be your resource? I am prepared against all events, and I would carry you about locked up in an iron cage, like a Turkish tyrant, till I had subdued that term against spirit, sooner than you should have your liberty to do more mischief. If you have any regard to your own interest, you will endeavour to make me your friend. I have the power and the will to serve you. I have done you no injury. I said I would be your protector, and so I will, if you will suffer me to be so. I said I would be the means of your passing your days in a state more eligible to a woman of either spirit, discretion or a grain of honour than you have hitherto done. This I am ready to make good if you will not be wanting on your part to your own happiness. You have acknowledged that you are conscious of your errors, are sorry for them, and are willing to quit them. This was turning her own weapons against herself. If you are in earnest in this declaration, I will give you the means of quitting them. The money you have now in your possession, even with the addition of your little jointure, is not sufficient to promise you such a support as would make you easy if you were to return to England tomorrow, and your story known as it would be, what could you expect? Do you think Arnold could be so besotted as to receive you again? What must be your resource? Why to continue while your beauty lasts in a wretched abandoned course, ten thousand to one you might never light on another whose love would be prodigal enough to enrich you? The only choice left you is to stay where you are not known, and where if you behave well you may gain the respect and esteem which you could never hope for in a place where your history is known. If you will content yourself with an easy fortune joined to a life of virtue and tranquillity, I will provide you with a husband that many a woman in your circumstances would bless her stars for. I will double the portion you have already and get it settled on you and will on certain conditions add a handsome yearly income. If you do not like this proposal, I have no other alternative to offer but a nunnery. I know you were bred a Roman Catholic, I am sure therefore I shall do no violence to your religious scruples, if you have any. I can get you admitted with ease. The religious here will think it a meritorious act in me, especially on the terms I shall propose, for I will make it worth their while to receive and treat you as a lady of the first family in France. But remember there is a final period to all intercourse with this world. If you think you can bring yourself to submit to such a life, I would really recommend it to you for I am solicitous for your happiness both here and hereafter. If not you have the other choice to make, and so, madam, a husband or a convent, take which you like best, I give you three days to consider of it. I kept up a severe countenance and a resolute tone, I rang the bell as soon as I had done speaking. Rachel came in before Mrs. Gerald could answer me. Take care of your mistress, said I, and left the room without even the ceremony of a bow ordaining to look at her. I locked the chamber door, which I took care to slap after me, and putting the key in my pocket, left the lady with her maid, to consult at their leisure. END OF SECTION XXI You know bit of I am not naturally morose, and that I am not very apt to be wanting in that complacence which all women expect, and which I really think due to almost all women, but this one had in the preceding scene so entirely thrown off her sex that I could hardly consider her as a female. I had known many of her ill qualities before, but though she now discovered, though they did not show her more wicked, certainly rendered her more disgustful to me than the others. In short I found that all decorum was to be laid aside. I had gone too far not to put the finishing hand to my work, and I had no other measure to observe but to finish by dint of force what I had begun by stratagem. When I mentioned the nunnery to you in a former letter, it was in a mere gayety of heart. I had no serious thoughts of that kind, nor did I now propose it as a practicable scheme. I knew the woman too well to suppose she would acquiesce, though to confess the truth to you honestly, I think if she refuses my other plan of accommodation I must compel her to accept of this. Nor ought it be considered in any other light than that of confining a wild beast, who having already done a great deal of mischief would still do more if left at liberty. But I think I shall not be driven to this. I believe she will accept of a husband with a good settlement sooner than resign her liberty. And now who do you think the husband is whom I have under contemplation for her? Why, no lesser man than my valet de chambre, Monsieur Pivet. He is young and handsome of good parts and a man of birth. He tells me he has an uncle that is a marquee, and three or four cousins that are in high court of parliament. Without a joke the fellow is of a pretty good family. He was bred a mercer and in a frolic had run away from his business when I picked him up at Paris, at the time you and I were there together. He then told me that he only hired with me for an opportunity of seeing a little of the world, and that he would one time or other sit down and settle to his trade. I have sounded him on the point in hand and find him very ready to accept of the lady with all her faults. I told you I had introduced him to Mrs. Gerard to serve as her interpreter in the house at the time when I was ill. I did not then tell her who he was, and both she and her maid take him for no other than an acquaintance of mine who happens to lodge in the same house with us. The vain rogue has encouraged this opinion, and I suppose passes for a very pretty fellow with them, for you know Pee-Ve is a beau, and is really not ungentile. But do not fancy that I intend to impose him on the lady for any other than what he really is. All disguise is now laid aside and I shall proceed with the utmost plainness and sincerity, as soon as I know the lady's mind in regard to her choice. Here, my dear Sir George, I must take breath a little. It has been a busy day. I undertook a difficult voyage without the certainty of a landing-place. A few storms I expected to encounter. I hope I have weathered the worst and have come at length to some prospect of a harbour. I expect my next greeting to you will be from a fairer shore. Upon second thoughts I will not send this off till I can put both you and myself out of the reach of suspense. Congratulate me, Sir George, honour me as the first of politicians, the greatest of negotiators. Let no hero of romance compare himself to me for first making difficulties and then extricating himself out of them. Let no giant pretend to equal me in the management of captive beauties in enchanted castles. Let no necromancer presumed to view with me in skill for metamorphosing tigresses into doves and changing imperious princesses into plain country nymphs. All this have I brought to pass without the assistance of enchanted sword or dwarf in the compass of a few days, but take the circumstances in the order they occurred.  She was not likely to give her mistress much consolation, for she was at least as much my friend as hers. How they pass the night I know not, for my own part I slept in perfect tranquillity. I desired Peavey in the morning to go and inquire as from himself how the lady rested. Mrs. Gerard, who was still in bed, no sooner heard his voice in the outer room, as he was speaking to her maid, than she called out to Mr. Peavey and desired he would be so good as to step into her chamber. Peavey, not much abashed at being admitted to a lady's rouelle, obeyed her summons and placed himself in an armed chair by her. He said he hoped it was not owing to illness that he saw her in bed. Yes, sir, said she, I am exceeding the ill. I have not slept the whole night, and am now in a high fever. Has Mr. Falkland told you anything in relation to me? I had prepared Peavey, and he had his answers ready. Madame, said he, I am not a stranger to your situation, and am exceedingly sorry for it. I wish the little influence I have over Mr. Falkland could be employed for your service. He is a positive man, very enterprising, and not to be controlled by anybody. Do you know my story, sir? cried Mrs. Gerard. He bowed and looked down. Mrs. Gerard, understanding this as an affirmative, raising herself up a little, cried out, a base-ungenerous man! Does he intend to expose me wherever he goes? By no means, madame! answered Peavey. There is nothing in your story that would do you the least injury in anybody's opinion here. The ladies in France do not think it any disgrace to have lovers. You are very obliging, sir, she replied, and perhaps I have as much to say in my vindication as any woman, but sure never was mortal used in the barbarous manner I am.  Either to take a husband of his choosing, any low fellow, I suppose, he thinks good enough for me, or immediately to go into a nunnery. Oh, sir! and she catched hold of his hand.  I have a pretty good sum of money in my possession, contrive the means of my escape, my gratitude to you shall be unbounded, and she wrung his hand. Ah, madame! said Peavey, looking tenderly at her. I would it were in my power. I should think myself but too happy if it were possible for me to accomplish what you request. But I fear it will be impracticable. I declare to you, if I were at my own disposal, I would fly with you to the remotest part of the world. But I am a young man who have my fortune to make. I am under particular ties here, and have besides such obligations to Mr. Falkland, as makes it impossible for me, consistently with honour, to interfere in this business. Sir! said she eagerly, can't you write a letter for me, or furnish me with the means of informing my friends in England of my situation? Madame! said he, before Mr. Falkland permitted me the honour of seeing you, he engaged my solemn promise that I would not intermeddle in your affairs. Lord! what would become of me? What would you, sir, advise me to do for, as for that wretch? Meaning me, I am determined if I can help it, not to suffer him to come near me. It is a very nice point, Madame. I really do not well know how to advise, but to be sure a nunnery is a choice not to be recommended to a lady of your youth and beauty. Unless your inclinations lead you that way, then indeed she interrupted him. Don't name it to me, sir, don't name it. I am determined to keep out of that snare, if it be for nothing but an opportunity to be revenged on that tyrant. I would marry a beggar soon, and give up that hope. As for that, Madame, said Peevee, I suppose Mr. Falkland will not be so ungenerous as to compel you to marry one beneath you. There are many young men of good families who would think themselves honoured by your acceptance of them. Your personal accomplishments alone are a sufficient recommendation, but Mr. Falkland mentioned to me the additional advantage of fortune. I dare answer for him. He will not think of bestowing you unwordly. I had charged Peevee not to go too far. He thought it time to break off the conversation, and rising up he told Mrs. Gerard he was going into my apartments, and desired to know if she would honour him with any commands. Sir, said she, I shall only beg you will tell Mr. Falkland that I never can think of his proposal, that I am very ill, and beg to be left in quiet for a few days, but shall be very glad to see you whenever you are at leisure. He bowed and left her, then came directly to me, and repeated the conversation he had had with her word for word. I am glad, said I, to find you are so much in her good graces, it will accelerate my plot. But we must not make you too cheap. If we manage discreetly she may possibly think herself very well off to get you. At present I stand pretty well with her, sir, said Peevee. She does not suspect that I am your servant. I fear if she did, as the lady seems to have a high spirit, she would forbid me her presence. I found Peevee had no mind to have this part of his situation explained. His vanity had been highly tickled at passing upon her for a gentleman and my friend. He has, in obedience to my orders, spent much of his time with her during the few days that I have been too ill to see her. I had at my first introduction of him to her cautioned him against letting her know in what capacity he was with me. I did not then give him reasons for this, and he suppose they were no other than that, finding it necessary to have him pretty much with her in her confinement, I did not choose to alarm her pride by the knowledge of his station. I did not hint at my design till the day before I had prevailed on her to write the letter to Mr. Arnold. Peevee did not at all disrelish the proposal. He had not been blind to Mrs. Gerrard's charms. He only seemed surprised at my being willing to part with her so soon, for he had not the least conception of my reasons for carrying her off, and very naturally concluded I was deeply engaged in Anne Amour. It was not difficult to guess his thoughts on this occasion. Peevee said I must premise one thing to you. I assure you there is not nor ever was any intrigue between Mrs. Gerrard and me. I do not however pretend to vouch for her chastity. It was no secret at V. Hall that she had occasioned an unhappy breach in Mr. Arnold's family, and that and that only, as I have a most particular value and affection for that family, was my motive to the carrying this lady away. As I hope the disunion, now the cause of it is removed, will no longer subsist, I find it necessary to provide for Mrs. Gerrard some way or other. A good husband I would wish to bestow on her. I do not yet know whether I shall be able to bring her into any measures, but if she should be prevailed on to accept of you, and I should make it worth your while to accept of her, can you overlook the levity she's been guilty of, and resolve to use her kindly? He promised he would make the best husband in the universe. I bid him not to be too sure of success, as I did not yet know Mrs. Gerrard's mind, and feared I should find it hard to bring her into terms, adding that though I intended to threaten her I should be very unwilling to use compulsion, but if she should happen to like him without suspecting my design, I might accomplish my purpose with less reluctance on her side, and much more satisfaction to myself. The conversation he had just had with her elated him highly. She had made him her confidant. She had implored his assistance. She had promised an unbounded gratitude. She had prohibited my visits and invited his. All this facilitated my work, and I at one time thought of letting her even work out her fate, and run blindfold into my trap, for it is plain if Peavey had given into it, she would have marched off with him and even married him to get out of my clutches. And then, you know, she could have blamed nobody but herself for the consequences. But I resolved not to impose on the gypsy any further, but let her know what she was to expect before the bargain was concluded, and at least give her the option of having the power of continuing a jilt, or being canonised for a saint. I found things were now likely to take such a turn as I wished, but it still required management. Peavey said I, you must let her see you no more to-day. It will make her prize your company the more. Keep out of the way that you may not be seen by Rachel, and give such orders in the house as there may be proper attendance for the lady. One of my footmen spoke a little French, and he had been directed to receive and communicate Mistress Rachel's orders in the family. Though Peavey assured me he thought Mrs. Gerard was not so ill as she said she was, I yet thought it incumbent on me to have the advice of a physician. The people with whom I lodged said I could not have a better than the doctor who had attended me, as he was reckoned very skillful. I told them in the present case I believed honesty was more requisite than skill. They said he was very honest too, so I desired he might be sent for. Mrs. Gerard, being determined to carry on the farce of sickness, pretended she was not able to rise, and the doctor was introduced to her bedside. As he could neither understand his patient nor make himself understood by her, I had ordered the footmen, whom I mentioned to you before as knowing a little French, to wait at the chamber door, for I was resolved so far to keep up my resentment and my importance as not to vouchsafe assisting at the conference, which by this means became the most ridiculous scene you can imagine. The doctor, having felt Mrs. Gerard's pulse, proposed his questions by the footmen, who just peeped his nose in at the door. He explained them, very ill I suppose, to Rachel in English, who repeated them to her lady within her curtains, for she would not suffer them to be drawn back. Mrs. Gerard's answers travelled the same roundabout way back to the doctor, who got them mangled in very bad French from his interpreter. Mrs. Gerard, provoked I believe at the doctor's visit, and very much tired of his questions, asked peevishly where Monsieur Peve was. This inquiry I expected, and the fellow who told me of it had been ordered to inform her that Monsieur Peve was not at home. The doctor, after leaving his patient, came to me and confirmed the character I had received of him, both for skill in his profession and integrity in his practice, for he told me very honestly that he thought the lady was in perfect health. I thought the doctor deserved a double fee, and accordingly gave it to him, requesting him, however, to continue his visits, for I told him that, though the lady might really be very well, she was, however, a little vaporish. I left her to her reflections the whole day. Rachel inquired three or four times of the footmen if Mr. Peve was come in, but was always answered in the negative. I was pleased at her solicitude about him. I desired him to wait on her the next day at the time the doctor paid his visit, and instructed Peve to ask the doctor in her presence what he thought of her case, and to report his answer fairly to her, for I was resolved not to let her imagine that she imposed on me. The doctor, by Peve's means, discussed with her more readily than he had done the day before. Peve asked his opinion of her disorder, and the physician declared it as freely as he had done to me, adding, he should not have repeated his visit if I had not insisted on it. Peve could not help smiling. Mrs. Gerard observed it, for I suppose she watched his countenance, and asked him what the doctor had said. He says, madame, what gives me a great deal of pleasure, which is that your disorder is entirely imaginary. He is an ignorant fellow, said Mrs. Gerard, and you may tell him I desire to see him no more. The poor doctor, who knew not what she said, made her half a dozen scrapes, and then withdrew. She then threw back her curtain, and reassuming the subject she had been upon the day before with Peve, asked him if he had had any conversation with me about her, and what resolution I had come to. Peve, who had begged I would leave this conference entirely to his management, seemed to hesitate a little, and appeared melancholy. We have had some talk about you, madame," said he, and Mr. Folkland tells me, if you reject the nunnery scheme, which I think he seems to be fondest of, that he has a person in his thoughts who he believes will be a suitable match for you if you are willing to accept of him, if not, here he stopped. What if I should not, sir? Pray, speak. I hope, madame, he will not carry matters to an extremity. Extremity, sir? Do you think he can be brutal enough to force me into a nunnery? Are there no laws in France? I hope he will not, madame, but I can't pretend to answer for him. He is a strange man. He seems out of temper, too. The doctor told him nothing ailed you. He believes him, and spoke harshly on the occasion. And what, said she, is the match that he calls suitable, one of his footmen, perhaps, or his barber? Peevee affected to look concerned. He tells me, madame, he has cast his eyes on a young man well-born and gentile educated, not contemptible in his personal accomplishments, and one who he is sure will make you a fond and obliging husband. Peevee sighed deeply, and cast his eyes languishingly on her. You seem concerned, sir, said she. Do you know the person? It is my doubts on that occasion, madame, that is the cause of my uneasiness. Pray, explain yourself, Mr. Peevee. Madame, I dare not, he replied with great solemnity. I will only assure you that whoever the person be whom Mr. Falkland has not yet named to me, I think him the happiest man in the world. What can be this meaning, asked Mrs. Gerard, for telling you so much and yet concealing the person's name? He says he has not proposed it yet to the gentleman, madame, and as he tells me he can't in honour conceal any part of your story, he is fearful. I beg your pardon, madame, you will excuse me if I do not repeat his scruples on this occasion? I understand you, sir. He supposes his friend will reject me. Some such insinuation he threw out, madame, said Peevee. I told him that he need only permit the gentleman to see you, and if he then made any objection he must be the blindest and most insensible man alive. He spoke this with a warmth that seemed highly pleasing to the lady. She bowed and answered, All men, sir, are not as generous as you. But what did Mr. Falkland say to this? He only smiled and said he wished his friend might think as I did, and that he would tell his name another time, that in the meantime it would oblige him if my visits to you were less frequent. Inhuman monster! said she. What he debar me of the only satisfaction I have! Let me but live to get out of his hands, if I can escape him by any means I will find ways to reckon with him for this. Be so good, Mr. Peevee, to tell him that I am content to take the person he offers. Let him be who he will. I expect nothing from him but insults, therefore shall not be surprised if I see myself sacrificed to some despicable wretch, but any, anything is better than to be in the power of such a tyrant. Madame! answered Peevee, you need not fear the being compelled to accept of an unworthy object. Mr. Falkland declares that if you should absolutely dislike the gentleman when you see him, he will be far from constraining you to take him for your husband. The other choice is still open to you, and, by what I can judge, Mr. Falkland seems to wish you would give that the preference. I would die first, cried Mrs. Gerard. The fool! Does he think I can be so entrapped? No, no, the authority of a husband, even of Falkland's choosing, cannot be such a bar to my revenge as the walls of a nunnery would be. Sir, I think myself obliged to you, and flatter myself you would have served me if you could. I may yet have it in my power to make you a return for your kind intentions towards me. I presume, when Mr. Falkland is disposed of his property, you will then be absolved of your promise to him in regard to me, and will still have charity enough to be friend and unfortunate woman.  He told me what had passed between him and the lady, and I could not help approving his management of this scene, though the rogue had stretched beyond the truth, but stratagems, you know, are allowable in love, and a lover he was now become in good earnest. He had taken care to alarm Mrs. Gerard's apprehensions at every passage of access. He had informed her that I had a husband for her in my thoughts, and at the same time that he avoided the most distant hint of it being himself. He engaged her favour by seeming to wish it were. Then he took care to insinuate at least a possibility of her being refused by the person designed for her, and this he very naturally supposed would raise his own consequence with her in case any suspicion would fall on him, of his being the intended husband. He pretended I had taken umbridge at his visiting her, still more to inflame her resentment against me, and increase her impatience to deliver herself out of my hands. At the same time he artfully hinted that he was not the man destined to be happy. This, as he saw already he was not unacceptable to her, he thought would make him doubly welcome when she should find herself no worse off. Then the nunnery was mentioned, in terrorum, with broad hints of my resolution. In short, Peeve played his part so cunningly that it had all the effect he could have wished, and Mrs. Gerard finding her spirit matched was obliged to surrender at discretion. End of section 22