Chapter XI: Part 11

'Tis a very nice point, Madam: 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
sooner than give up that hope.

As for that, Madam, said Pivet, I suppose Mr Faulkland would 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 Faulkland mentioned to me the
additional advantage of fortune. I dare answer for him he will not
think of bestowing you unworthily.

I had charged Pivet not to go too far: he thought it time to break
off the conversation; and, rising up, he told Mrs Gerrarde he was
going into my apartment, and desired to know if she would honour him
with any commands.

Sir, said she, I shall only beg you will tell Mr Faulkland, 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 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 to get off with you.

At present I stand pretty well with her, Sir, said Pivet: 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 Pivet 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 had, in obedience to my
orders, spent much of his time with her during the few days that I
had 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 my reasons for this, and he
supposed they were no other, than that, finding it necessary to have
him pretty much with her in her confinement, I did not chuse to
alarm her pride by the knowlege 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. Pivet did not at all disrelish the proposal: he
had not been blind to Mrs Gerrarde's charms: he only seemed
surprized 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 an amour. It was
not difficult to guess his thoughts on this occasion.

Pivet, said I, I must premise one thing to you: I assure you there
is not, nor ever was, any intrigue between Mrs Gerrarde 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
Gerrarde 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 has been guilty of, and resolve to use her kindly?

He promised he would make the best husband in the universe. I bid
him not be too sure of success, as I did not yet know Mrs Gerrarde'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 make use of 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 e'en work out her fate, and run blindfold
into my trap; for it is plain, if Pivet had given in to 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
gypsey any farther; but let her know what she was to expect before
the bargain was concluded, and at least give her her option of
having the power of continuing a jilt, or being canonized for a
saint.

I found things were now likely to take such a turn as I wished; but
it still required management. Pivet, 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 Rachael; and give
such orders in the house, as that 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 Mrs Rachael's orders in the
family.

Tho' Pivet assured me that he thought Mrs Gerrarde 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 skilful. 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 Gerrarde, 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 footman, 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 vouch-safe assisting at the conference;
which, by this means, became the most ridiculous scene you can
imagine. The doctor, having felt Mrs Gerrarde's pulse, proposed his
questions by the footman, who just peeped his nose in at the door.
He explained them (very ill I suppose) to Rachael in English, who
re-repeated them to her lady within her curtains; for she would not
suffer them to be drawn back. Mrs Gerrarde's answers travelled the
same round-about way back to the doctor, who got them mangled in
very bad French from his interpreter.

Mrs Gerrarde, provoked, I believe, at the doctor's visit, and very
much tired of his questions, asked peevishly where Monsieur Pivet
was? This inquiry I expected; and the fellow who told me of it, had
been ordered to inform her that Monsieur Pivet 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
vapourish.

I left her to her reflections the whole day. Rachael inquired three
or four times of the footman if Mr Pivet was come in, but was always
answered in the negative. I was pleased at her sollicitude about
him.

I desired him to wait on her the next day, at the time the doctor
paid his visit; and instructed Pivet 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 Pivet's means, discoursed with her more readily than
he had done the day before. Pivet 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.

Pivet could not help smiling. Mrs Gerrarde observed it; for, I
suppose, she watched his countenance, and asked him what the doctor
had said. He says, Madam, what gives me a vast deal of pleasure;
which is, that your disorder is intirely imaginary. He is an
ignorant fellow, said Mrs Gerrarde; 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 withdrew.

She then threw back her curtain; and re-assuming the subject she had
been upon the day before with Pivet, asked him if he had had any
conversation with me about her? and what resolution I had come to?

Pivet (who had begged I would leave this conference intirely to his
management) seemed to hesitate a little, and appeared melancholy. We
have had some talk about you, Madam, said he; and Mr Faulkland 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 stop'd. What if I should not, Sir? Pray speak.
I hope, Madam, 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, Madam;
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?

Pivet affected to look concerned. He tells me, Madam, he has cast
his eyes on a young man, well born, and genteelly educated; not
contemptible in his personal accomplishments, and one who he is sure
will make you a fond and obliging husband.

Pivet 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, Madam, that is the cause of my uneasiness.
Pray explain yourself, Mr Pivet. Madam, I dare not, he replied, with
great solemnity. I will only assure you, that whoever the person be,
whom Mr Faulkland has not yet named to me, I think him the happiest
man in the world. What can be his meaning, asked Mrs Gerrarde, for
telling you _so_ much, and yet concealing the person's name? He
says, he has not proposed it yet to the gentleman, Madam; and as,
he tells me, he can't in honour conceal any part of your story, he
is fearful--I beg your pardon, Madam; 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, Madam, said Pivet. 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 Faulkland say to this? He only smiled, and said he wished his
friend might think as I did; that he would tell me his name another
time; and that, in the mean time, it would oblige him if my visits
to you were less frequent. Inhuman monster, said she; would 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 Pivet to tell him, that I
am content to take the person he offers, let him be who he will: I
shall expect nothing from him but insults; therefore shall not be
surprized if I see myself sacrificed to some despicable wretch: but
any, _any_ thing is better than to be in the power of such a tyrant!
Madam, answered Pivet, you need not fear the being compelled to
accept of an unworthy object: Mr Faulkland 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 Faulkland
seems to wish you would give that the preference. I would die first,
cried Mrs Gerrarde--The fool, does he think I can be so entrapped?
No, no; the authority of a husband, even of Faulkland's chusing,
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 Faulkland has 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 befriend an unfortunate woman. She wept, and Pivet
owned he was ready to do so too; but constraining himself, protested
she should command his life; and withdrew full of seeming
uneasiness.

He told me what had passed between him and the lady, and I could not
help approving his management of the 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 Gerrarde'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 its 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 should fall on him, of his being the
intended husband. He pretended I had taken umbrage 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 terrorem, with broad hints
of my resolution. In short, Pivet played his part so cunningly, that
it had all the effect he could have wished; and Mrs Gerrarde,
finding her spirit matched, was obliged to surrender at discretion.

I own I did not expect to have succeeded so soon; and without Pivet,
who had now a feeling in the affair, I certainly should not. I
resolved directly to make the best use of the advantage I had
gained. I told Pivet that he should be married the next day. He was
so transported at the thought, that he begged I would give him leave
to go to Mrs Gerrarde, to declare his love and his good fortune
together; for Sir, said he, you know she promises to accept of
whomsoever you propose, and I hope she will not dispise your choice
so much as she thinks she shall. Softly, softly, good Monsieur
Pivet, your violent hurry will spoil all. I do not mean that you
shall see her till to-morrow. Not till to-morrow! Ah Sir! do, I
beseech you, Sir, allow me; she will think it very cruel. (Poor
Pivet, thought I, thou wilt have enough of her). Simpleton (to him),
this day's suspence will forward your business more than all you
could say to her in seven hours: is it not enough you are sure of
her? We have other things now to mind. What plan of life do you
purpose to pursue? You know I have promised to do handsomely for
you.

Sir, said he, I always intended to follow the business I was bred
to; and if this piece of extraordinary good fortune had _not_
happened to me, I did purpose, tho' you have been the best of
masters to me, to have asked your permission to return to my
friends, in order to settle in my trade, as I have some capital of
my own. But to be sure, Sir, I shall be directed in this, as in
every thing else, by your will and pleasure. I approve of your
design intirely, said I; but there are certain conditions that must
be previously settled between you and me. In the first place, tell
me honestly, what is the capital you say you are worth.

He answered, his father had left him about eight thousand livres,
which were in the hands of a banker in Paris, whom he named to me,
and referred me to him for confirmation of the truth of what he told
me.

Well, said I, this will go a good way towards setting you up in your
own business. Where do you think of settling?

He answered, Paris was the best place for his trade.

On that I put an absolute negative; I said Paris was too much
frequented by my countrymen, to be a proper place for Mrs Gerrarde
to make her appearance in, as she was likely to meet there with more
of her acquaintance than might be convenient: I told him I had no
objection to any other large provincial town.

He said he was born at Dijon, and should like to go thither, as he
had many friends there.

Be it so, said I: What I purpose doing for you is this. Mrs Gerrarde
has eight hundred pounds of her own; I will add as much more to it,
for which I will give you my bond, till I can have the money
remitted from England; and this you shall settle on her, that she
may be sure of a support in case of your death, and the interest you
shall allow her for her own separate use, but without her knowing
that you are tied down to it, that you may have it in your power to
oblige her.

He made no reply, but acquiesced with a low bow.

I laughed at the simplicity of his countenance. Pivet, said I,
though I have taken care of Mrs Gerrarde's interest, I do not intend
to neglect yours, provided you make no demur to the terms. You
already know my reasons for proceeding as I have done in this
affair. I have great cause to apprehend Mrs Gerrarde's vindictive
spirit, if she should find means, which I know she will endeavour
at, to lay open the real state of this transaction to some people in
England. This might frustrate all that I have been at so much pains
to accomplish; be it your care then to prevent it. I cannot wish you
to use harsh measures with your wife; but if you have address enough
to prevent a correspondence with any one in England, (an elopement,
for both your sakes, I am not willing to suppose; though I think,
for some time at least, you must keep a strict eye over her) if, as
I said, you can prevent a correspondence, I think it will answer my
purpose; and that I may make it your interest to do this, I will
bind myself, by as strong an obligation as the law can make, to pay
you two hundred pounds a year English, so long as you keep your wife
within the bounds prescribed; provided, if, after three years, I
find those terms no longer necessary, they shall, if I then chuse
it, become void. I shall also add something to enable you to fit up
a house and a shop, that you need not be under a necessity of
breaking in upon your capital.

Pivet's gratitude overflowed at his lips for this (as he called it)
noble provision. He said, he made no doubt of gaining so far upon
Mrs Gerrarde's affections, as to be able effectually to fulfil his
covenant, without using violent methods; but, said he, at all
events, I warrant you shall hear no more of her.

Preliminaries thus adjusted, I sent for a notary of reputation, to
whom I gave instructions to draw up two separate articles for the
purposes mentioned; the latter was to be a secret between Pivet and
me, as it was by no means proper for Mrs Gerrarde to be let into it.
The other, which regarded her own particular settlement, was
intended for her perusal and approbation. I charged the notary to
use dispatch, and he promised to have both the papers ready by next
morning, as also the bond which I was to give Pivet for the payment
of eight hundred pounds.

The lawyer brought the papers according to his promise, and they
were signed, sealed, and delivered in due form. That which was to be
the private agreement between Pivet and me, was worded in
consequence of an article which I drew up myself, and made Pivet
sign; wherein I set forth particulars at large.

Pivet was very impatient to see his beloved, but a little uneasy
lest she should be disgusted with him, when she should come to know
the situation he had been in. I bid him not be discouraged, telling
him I should set off that circumstance of his having been my
gentleman (for so I chose to call him) in the most favourable light.
I presented him with a very elegant suit of cloaths, which I had
never worn, and which fitted him very well, as you know he is nearly
my size. You cannot imagine how handsome the fellow looked when he
was dressed, for he had linnen and every thing else suitable to his
cloaths.

I then desired him to wait on his goddess; but he, who had been so
eager a little before, was now quite abashed at the thoughts of
making his pretensions known to the lady, and intreated me to
present him to her. I saw he was quite disconcerted at the serious
scene he was going to engage in.

I pitied him, and told him I would go with him to Mrs Gerrarde; but
that it was proper first to prepare her a little.

He said he thought so too.

I immediately sent for Rachael, and speaking to her at the door,
without letting her see Pivet, I bid her tell her mistress that I
purposed making her a visit in half an hour, and should introduce
the gentleman, whom I expected she would, according to her promise,
receive at my hands for her husband; reserving to herself still the
liberty of chusing the other alternative, in case she disliked him.

Pivet shewed the sollicitude of a lover, after this message was sent
to his mistress; Poor dear lady, said he, how I pity her? What must
she suffer in this interval? But your presence, Monsieur Pivet, said
I, will dispel all her fears, and make her the happiest of women.

The poor fellow was out of countenance, and I dare say as anxious as
Mrs Gerrarde.

As I received no answer from her to my message, I construed her
silence as leave to attend her; and accordingly, at the appointed
time, I entered her apartment, leading Pivet by the hand.

She was sitting at a table, leaning her head on one of her hands;
she cast a look of scorn at me, and immediately withdrew her eyes,
not so much as deigning to glance them at Pivet, little imagining
that it was _he_ who accompanied me, though she knew it was her
intended bridegroom.

Pivet was not able to speak; he trembled, and, like a true
inamorato, ran to her, clapt one knee to the ground, and ventured,
though with great diffidence, to take one of her hands.

This action obliged the haughty fair one to vouchsafe him a glance
at her eye.

Her surprize, spite of her assumed airs of grandeur, was not to be
concealed; it was apparent, she coloured, and though she intended to
have been solemn and lofty, she even _stared_; and I could discover
a little gleam of pleasure dance over her countenance.

What! Monsieur Pivet? And then she looked at me, as if for an
explanation.

Yes, madam, said I, Monsieur Pivet _is_ the man. (I was going to say
the _happy_ man, but I did not mean to compliment her; my business
was to make her think I was doing her a favour). It has been your
good fortune to make a conquest of him; and in the hope of your
making him a good wife, as I am sure he will make you a good
husband, I have consented to the match; and I spoke this in the tone
of one, who thinking he has conferred a great obligation on an
undeserving object, expects to be thanked for it.

The woman, with all her art and assurance to boot, was quite
confounded. I did not give her time to recover herself, but taking
the settlement out of my pocket, and reading it to her, Look there,
madam, and see if I have injured you in the disposal of your person
and your fortune.

Mrs Gerrarde, always alert when her interest was in the question,
took the paper, and notwithstanding her confusion, read it entirely
over. Pivet's handsome appearance, joined to her former
prepossessions, had made so good an impression on her, that she
began to think the matter worth attending to. When she had read the
paper, she put it into Pivet's hands. Sir, said she, it should
appear by this that you have acted generously; but as I have already
been imposed upon by that gentleman (looking at me) all this may,
for ought I know, be a deceit; but as it is not in my power to make
terms for myself, it is to no purpose for me to make objections, or
to enquire any farther. I am ready to accept your offer, only I
should be glad to know who the man is, that I am to make my husband.

She spoke this with such an air of disdain, that the poor lover,
shrunk up and diminished in his own eyes, left me to make an answer.
Mrs Gerrarde, said I, I declare to you solemnly that there is no
deception in any thing which you see, nor any foul play meant to
you. This young man, whom I now present to you for your husband, is
well born, and has many genteel relations in this country; he has it
in his power, to my certain knowlege, to make good the settlement he
proposes for you, which I will take care to see properly secured.
That part of it which is your own property, you have now in your
possession, the other half I know is his. He was brought up to a
creditable business, which he intends to follow. I know him to be
good natured, and of an obliging temper. He lived with me some time,
and accompanied me in my travels. I suppose his having been my
gentleman, which station he did not accept through necessity, will
not be a material objection (and I smiled and affected to look very
proud), and I only mention it to convince you that I have no design
of deceiving you, or concealing any part of his character.

Pivet coloured (for I stole a side glance at him) and looked
sheepish. He began an aukward compliment with a bow, and 'I hope,
madam'--but I relieved him; and speaking to Mrs Gerrarde, You know
all now, madam, that can be known; therefore, if you are disposed to
keep your word, let us put an end to this business to-day. To-day,
Sir! Yes, to-day, madam. What occasion is there for farther delay?

Pivet now plucked up his courage, and begged, since she had
consented, that she would not defer his happiness. I told her,
between mirth and chiding, that I was in haste to get rid of my
charge, and was therefore determined to make her over to Mr Pivet
that evening; and telling her I would give orders about the
ceremony, left the lovers to make out for themselves a scheme of
conjugal felicity. Pivet pleaded his own cause so effectually, that,
in the evening, I had the satisfaction of bestowing, with my own
hand, that inestimable treasure of virtue and meekness, Mrs
Gerrarde, on my faithful Squire, Monsieur Pivet; to the no small joy
of the latter, and I believe, if the truth were known, to the no
great mortification of the former. Mrs Rachael and myself were the
only witnesses of this illustrious union.

When the ceremony was over, I approached, according to custom, to
congratulate and salute the bride; but she turned her saucy cheek to
me, and affected the whole night vast dignity of behaviour; yet it
was so foreign to her nature, that it appeared ridiculous; however
it was better than ranting.

I invited them both to sup with me, and treated Pivet with a
familiar civility that seemed to please him highly, as it did him
credit in the presence of his lady.

After supper, Pivet entreated me to complete the friendly and
generous offices I had already done him, by undertaking the
settlement of all money matters for him. As he knew I intended to go
to Paris, he begged I would receive for him the sum he had in the
hands of the banker, which, he said, if I would remit to him, it
would enable him to enter upon his business immediately. At the same
time he (with no ill grace) presented me my bond again, assuring me
he relied entirely upon my honour for the execution of my promise to
him, farther requesting that I would put that, together with Mrs
Gerrarde's money, if she approved of it, into such hands as I should
judge most proper for her advantage.

I was pleased at the openness of his proceedings, and promised to do
every thing for their mutual satisfaction; but insisted on his
keeping the bond, or lodging it in some proper hand, till I could
redeem it, by paying the money, which I should take care should be
speedily done. I told him, I thought the sooner he set out for his
own province the better. He said, he should be ready the next day,
if Mrs Gerrarde (for he did not yet presume to call her by his name)
did not object to it. He appealed to her with his looks.

She had scarce condescended to open her lips before; but now
answered, You may be sure, Sir, I shall not think it too soon to get
out of a prison.

He asked her if she chose to take her maid Rachael along with her?

Certainly, she said; I should not be fond of having a servant about
me, by whom I should not be understood.

Rachael was now called in, and the thing proposed to her. She seemed
rather inclined to return to England; but I told her, she could not,
in gratitude, desert her lady in a strange country; and that if she
had a mind to make me her friend, which she should find me upon any
future occasion, she would attend her home, and continue with her
till her mistress was willing to part with her.

The girl upon this consented to stay, and received Mrs Gerrarde's
orders to prepare for their departure the next day.

In the morning I made Pivet a present for his travelling charges,
and Rachael another; telling her, according to the account I had of
her behaviour, that I would be kind to her. She made me all the
promises that I could desire; assuring me, that it was purely to
oblige me that she staid with Mrs Gerrarde.

Pivet told me, that he would send the sum which his wife had, in
bills to me, to be appropriated in the manner agreed on: for he
said, that having that morning mentioned to her my generosity, in
relation to the bond, she had owned, that, notwithstanding her
resentment to me, she had no distrust of my honour in _those_
particulars.

I took this opportunity of telling Pivet, that when he could get his
wife in the humour, he might prevail on her to give an instrument,
impowering my steward to receive the little income of her jointure
at Ashby, which I would take care should be remitted to him; for,
trifling as it was, it might be serviceable.

When they were ready to set forward on' their journey, I begged
leave to speak a few words to madam Pivet by herself. She seemed not
inclined to the conference, but her husband very obligingly pressing
her not to part with me in enmity, and at the same time quitting the
room, she was obliged to hear me.

I then very frankly asked her pardon for the lengths I had gone;
telling her, that I hoped time, and her own good sense, would
convince her that she was more obliged to me, than her passion would
then give her leave to see. Remember, madam, I have kept my word
with you. You are now married to a very deserving young man; you
have a competent support during your life. Happiness is in your
power if you do not wilfully cast it away from you. Shew now that
greatness of mind of which you have so often boasted, by forgiving
the man, who has, as you think, injured you; and resolving at once
on a behaviour that shall, in your turn, intitle you, not only to
the forgiveness, but even to the esteem, of those whom you have
injured.

I would have preached on, and given her more good advice, but she
cut me short, with this decisive answer. Sir, I neither desire your
counsel nor your good opinion; Mr Pivet _may_ deserve some regard
from me, but _you_ I will never forgive, and she flung from me.

I called in Pivet, and telling him I was infinitely pleased at the
good disposition I found his lady in, I wished him all happiness and
a safe journey, and they set out directly for Dijon.

And now, my dear Bidulph, stop, to praise, to admire, to wonder at
my virtue! I, who have had one of the finest women in England in my
possession, for so many days (and by the way was not her aversion)
to yield up her (by me) unpolluted charms to the arms of another!
Add to this, that it has cost me more to make one woman honest, than
it need have done to have made half a dozen--otherwise. I had like
to have writ a strange ugly word, that was just at the nib of my
pen.

If you relate my story with the laudable partiality of a friend,
judiciously abolishing the context (for which you may have many
precedents), and neatly splicing together the useful fragments,
shall I not appear to posterity as great as Scipio himself? Ah! Sir
George, if we knew the secret springs of many of those actions which
dazzle us, in the histories of the renowned heroes of old, it is not
impossible but the wonderous page might dwindle into as
insignificant a tale as mine is.

Well, I thank my good genius that has led me safely through such a
labyrinth as I had got into. In getting rid of that woman (and not
disgracefully neither), I feel as if I had shaken off a great load.
But what a graceless baggage it is, not to thank me for my kindness.
I, who have been more than a father to her, in saving her first from
perdition, and then settling her well in the world--but there is no
obliging some tempers.

I shall leave this place to-morrow, for I must hasten to Paris, to
put every thing on a good footing for the new-married pair; and then
I will go and ramble I do not care whither, for another year. I
shall lodge at Paris, where I did before, and desire you will write
to me directly an account of all that passes within the circle of
your family. Let your sister and my lady Bidulph know in what manner
I have disposed of Mrs Gerrarde, but be sure you do it discreetly,
and take care not to mention that paultry circumstance of her
settlement, or any other private agreement with Pivet. I know Mrs
Arnold's delicacy would be hurt by the knowlege of this; therefore
beware of dropping the least hint of it, at your peril. Tell Lady
Bidulph I will pray devoutly for her daughter's happiness; if what I
have done will promote it, it will not a little contribute to my
own; tho' I begin to feel it is not to be expected in this life, at
least by such a hopeless wanderer as I am.

I could sit now, and indite melancholy verses, or write an elegy, or
make my will, or do any other splenetic thing: in short, I have a
good mind to turn monk and go into a monastery. I am sure I should
have lady Bidulph's vote for that.

Adieu, my dear Bidulph, you will not hear from me again, perhaps,
till I am in another region.

_Nov. 30._

_December 17_

What a strange man this is, my Cecilia! The more I reflect on his conduct, the more I am amazed! What a mixture is there in his nature! Wild to a romantic degree in his conceptions, yet how steady, how resolute, how consistent, in putting those flights of fancy into act! Generous he certainly is; how few men would put themselves to the trouble and expence that he has done, from such a disinterested, such a compassionate motive! Nay, on the contrary, I believe most men would be cruel enough to take a sort of pleasure in the vexation of a man, who had succeeded to the love of a mistress, once so much valued; and would enjoy a mean triumph in being, though without reason, the object of _his_ jealousy, who had cut them off from all hope.

Mr Faulkland is above this. I think myself highly indebted to him, whether the scheme he has in so extraordinary a manner undertaken for my service succeeds or not. Yet do I wish from my heart, that the separation between Mr Arnold and Mrs Gerrarde had been brought about by any other means. What if Mr Arnold should ever come at the truth (though I think that hardly possible), might it not leave him more estranged from me than he is even now? or if he should, in consequence of this odd adventure, return to his poor banished wife, repent of his injurious suspicions of her, and restore her to his confidence and love, can he, can he ever restore to her that peace she has so long been a stranger to? Will no latent sparks of former unkindness ever rekindle and light up the fire of discord? How unwillingly do we repair the unprovoked injuries which we find we have done to others! Poor Mr Arnold; if I am so happy as to have my innocence cleared to him, how miserable will his own reflections make him! but if he _is_ convinced (which has been my daily and hourly prayers), he _shall_ not be unhappy, if I can make him otherwise. Oh! my dear, it is the wish, the ardent longing of my soul, to recover the esteem, though I lose the love, of Mr Arnold! for I call that Being to witness, who knows the secrets of all hearts, that since I have been his wife, I have never, even in thought, swerved from that perfect and inviolable fidelity which I vowed to him. What then must have been my sufferings, deprived of his love, cast out from his house, and branded with the dreadful name of an Adultress? For where is the difference between the intention and the act? To me there is no distinction, and the husband must be gross that makes one.

My mother has suffered me to tell her the substance of Mr Faulkland's letters, though she would not read them. I own I was better satisfied that she should receive her information thus, because his light manner of expressing himself in many places would have given her great offence. Sir George did not consider this when he submitted the letters to my mother's as well as my perusal. Many grave animadversions did she make during my recital, and many times lift up her eyes in wonder at Mrs Gerrarde's behaviour. She often said Mr Faulkland was frantic to undertake such a thing, and wished he had not taken such a _terrible_ woman in hand. When I came to that part of the account where Mrs Gerrarde had been prevailed on to write to Mr Arnold, I begged she would give me leave to read the copy of the letter to her, as I assured her there was nothing in it but would give her pleasure.

She consented; and I read it, leaving out Mr Faulkland's apostrophes. My mother did not interrupt me; and finding she continued silent when I came to the conclusion, I looked at her, and saw tears running down her cheeks. Yes, my dear, my innocent child, said she, passionately throwing her arms round me, you _were_ wronged; God knows you were wronged; and He now proclaims your innocence even from the mouth of your most inveterate enemy. And lifting up her eyes, Thou hast turned the hearts of sinners to the wisdom of the just; therefore shall the righteous give Thee thanks. And then, God forgive that woman all her sins for this one act, and God forgive Mr Faulkland _his_ sins, and reward him for this goodness. Sure your husband will relent now; sure he will long to take my poor, forsaken, virtuous child (and her tears gushed as she spoke), to his bosom again.

I could not answer her for some time; my own tears almost choaked me: at last I said, My dear mother, I have no doubt of Mr Arnold's returning kindness: he will, I hope, be convinced that I am guiltless, and we may yet be happy.

She dried her eyes: God send, God send you may! But what has Mr Faulkland done with his poor penitent? I hope he will behave honourably to her; for this excellent parent had no doubt but that the letter, written by Mrs Gerrarde was, in a great measure, the result of her own contrition; for as I had not been minute in giving her a particular account of all the previous steps taken by Mr Faulkland to obtain it from her, she had not the least idea that Mrs Gerrarde had writ in that manner from any other motive than the good one which appeared obvious to her.

I told her, that I feared Mrs Gerrarde was far from being the penitent she supposed her; and then acquainted her with the true reasons which had induced her to write in the manner she had done. I then proceeded to tell her of her behaviour after writing the letter, and how Mr Faulkland had acted in consequence of that; concluding with informing her of Mrs Gerrarde's being married, and provided for in a very reputable way.

My mother was highly delighted at this last circumstance; for, she said, Mr Faulkland had no right to be the punisher of her crimes; and if he had not made a decent provision for her, she would never have looked upon him but as a dishonest person.

She told me, that though she was very glad, upon the whole, that Mr Arnold and that bad woman were separated, yet she was nevertheless not quite so well satisfied with the manner of it; for I think, said she, that it is impossible but that a man of Mr Arnold's good sense must, one time or other, have been convinced of his error, and, of his own accord, returned to a right way of thinking.

I answered, that might possibly have happened; but that he might have continued long enough under his infatuation intirely to ruin his family: and as for what regarded me in particular, I knew of no means so likely to remove his unjust suspicions effectually, as those which Mr Faulkland had taken.

You are right, my dear, said she; let us hope the best. I am glad Mr Faulkland does not mean to return soon to England: there is but one event which could ever reconcile me to his doing so; and that is, in order to do justice to the unfortunate Miss Burchell. If he would wipe out that blot in his character by marrying her, I should again allow him to be a good man: at present, I own, I can't help being dissatisfied, that one, so blameable as I think him, should have laid my daughter under the obligations which he has done.

I said it would rejoice me if he could be prevailed on to make Miss Burchell the reparation she mentioned; but I feared she had no advocate with Mr Faulkland; though I was of opinion, if he were made acquainted with the life of sorrow she led, as well as her reserved and modest behaviour, he would be inclined to favour her; especially if he were to see the poor little boy.

My mother said, He never could expect quiet of mind, till he had wiped the tears from her eyes.

Miss Burchell came in while we were speaking of her: my mother is always glad to see her. The poor girl had been exceedingly shocked at Mr Faulkland's carrying away her aunt. She thought this action put such an invincible bar between her and her hopes (almost desperate before), that it went near to distract her; for though there was no consanguinity in the case, yet the degree of relationship between her and Mrs Gerrarde, made her look upon this amour (for so she considered it) with the utmost horror. She had so often expressed her sense of it in so lively a manner, both to my mother and me, that had Mr Faulkland even been inclined to offer his hand, she could not, consistently either with virtue or common decency, have accepted of it.

My mother, ever delighted with acts of humanity, was in haste to communicate the true state of the case to Miss Burchell. It was her interest to keep our secret; therefore I made no scruple of trusting her with it; especially as I knew it would so much contribute to her peace of mind.

My mother accosted her with saying, Miss Burchell, I have something to tell you, that I believe will give you pleasure. The unhappy young woman lifted up her melancholy eyes; and, shaking her head, answered, _That_, I believe, Madam, is now impossible. Your aunt is married, said my mother, but not to Mr Faulkland; and, what is more, there has never any thing passed between them that need be a bar to you, if he could be brought to consider you as he ought. Miss Burchell looked amazed; then turned her eyes from my mother to me, as if for an explanation. My mother desired me to acquaint her with the history at large of Mr Faulkland's proceedings; I did so, and took care not to omit the tender manner in which he had mentioned her in one of his letters. She dropped some tears at the recital; and then, turning to my mother, My dear good Madam, you have snatched me from despair by this discovery: I was overwhelmed; I think I could not have got the better of my grief: a faint ray of glimmering hope is once more let in upon me. Mr Faulkland may _yet_ be mine without a crime; or, if he is not, I shall at least have the satisfaction to think him not so abandoned as he appeared to me an hour ago. Oh! worthy and lovely Mrs Arnold! said she, addressing herself to me, you see how Mr Faulkland reveres you: oh! that you would but engage in my behalf! _you_ can influence his heart; _you_ can guide his reason; _you_ are his fate!

Her fine eyes, which she fixed on me, filled with persuasive eloquence, let me into the whole of her meaning, and conveyed more to me than it was in the power of words to do. I understand you, dear Madam, said I; and it grieves my heart to think that I cannot, must not interest myself for you in the manner I would most ardently undertake to do, if there were not such obstacles in my way as it is impossible for me to get over. Mr Faulkland, you see, is free from the guilt we all feared he had plunged himself into: he is full of remorse for the injury he did you, and I dare believe retains in his heart a tender sense of your merit: he is still free; nay, he has declared his intention of continuing so. These circumstances give large room for hope: your unobjectionable conduct, joined to paternal affection, may still bring about that wished-for, happy event; but this must be left to time, and the workings of his own heart. You know Mr Faulkland is, in his natural temper, impatient of restraint; he is but a very young man, and has a few of those levities which a little more settled age infallibly will correct, where a good heart and a good understanding are united. Pardon me if I add, that Mr Faulkland is not ungenerous, however blameable he may have been in regard to you. All these circumstances considered, I say, may warrant your indulging a hope, that he will at last be brought to make you the reparation, which is mine and my mother's wish as much as your own. Ah! Madam, said she, but Mr Faulkland is a great way from me: the remembrance of me is already but too much worn out; distance, time, and a variety of objects, must intirely efface it. _Your_ hand, the powerful magic of _your_ touch, would soon brighten up the colouring of those faint, faded traces, that he but scarcely preserves of me in his memory. What could not your pen, guided by a heart so tender, so sympathizing with the grief of others, effect on the man who considers you as a divinity? If he had any hopes of _you_, Madam, it would be presumption in me to put in my claim; but, as you cannot be my rival, be my advocate: do, dear angelic lady! (and she lifted up her hands to me fervently) write to Mr Faulkland, if you can restore him to me, what prayers will I not pour out for your happiness?

My mother, who was greatly affected by her discourse, said to me, Indeed, my dear, if you could effect that, it would be a very meritorious work. Who knows what the high opinion Mr Faulkland has of you, and the great deference he pays to your judgment, may produce?