I could have thought myself in paradise, but for the continual talking of the company around me. We sat in the pit, where every body was dressed in so high a style, that, if I had been less delighted with the performance, my eyes would have found me sufficient entertainment from looking at the ladies.

I was very glad I did not sit next the Captain, for he could not bear the music, or singers, and was extremely gross in his observations on both. When the opera was over, we went into a place called the coffee-room, where ladies as well as gentlemen assemble. There are all sorts of refreshments, and the company walk about, and chat with the same ease and freedom as in a private room.

On Monday we go to a ridotto, and on Wednesday we return to Howard Grove. The Captain says he won’t stay here to be smoked with filth any longer; but, having been seven years smoked with a burning sun, he will retire to the country, and sink into a fair-weather chap.

Adieu, my dear Sir.

Letter Thirteen

Evelina in continuation

Tuesday, April 12

My dear Sir,

We came home from the ridotto so late, or rather, so early, that it was not possible for me to write. Indeed we did not go, you will be frightened to hear it, – till past eleven o’clock: but nobody does. A terrible reverse of the order of nature! We sleep with the sun, and wake with the moon.

The room was very magnificent, the lights and decorations were brilliant, and the company gay and splendid. But I should have told you, that I made many objections to being of the party, according to the resolution I had formed. However, Maria laughed me out of my scruples, and so once again – I went to an assembly.

Miss Mirvan danced a minuet, but I had not the courage to follow her example. In our walks I saw Lord Orville. He was quite alone, but did not observe us. Yet, as he seemed of no party, I thought it was not impossible that he might join us; and tho’ I did not wish much to dance at all, – yet, as I was more acquainted with him than with any other person in the room, I must own I could not help thinking it would be infinitely more desirable to dance again with him, than with an entire stranger. To be sure, after all that had passed, it was very ridiculous to suppose it even probable, that Lord Orville would again honour me with his choice; yet I am compelled to confess my absurdity, by way of explaining what follows.

Miss Mirvan was soon engaged; and, presently after, a very fashionable, gay-looking man, who seemed about 30 years of age, addressed himself to me, and begged to have the honour of dancing with me. Now Maria’s partner was a gentleman of Mrs Mirvan’s acquaintance; for she had told us it was highly improper for young women to dance with strangers, at any public assembly. Indeed it was by no means my wish so to do; yet I did not like to confine myself from dancing at all; neither did I dare refuse this gentleman, as I had done Mr Lovel, and then, if any acquaintance should offer, accept him: and so, all these reasons combining, induced me to tell him – yet I blush to write it to you! – that I was already engaged; by which I meant to keep myself at liberty to dance or not, as matters should fall out.

I suppose my consciousness betrayed my artifice, for he looked at me as if incredulous; and, instead of being satisfied with my answer, and leaving me, according to my expectation, he walked at my side, and, with the greatest ease imaginable, began a conversation, in the free style which only belongs to old and intimate acquaintance. But, what was most provoking, he asked me a thousand questions concerning the partner to whom I was engaged. And, at last, he said, ‘Is it really possible that a man whom you have honoured with your acceptance, can fail to be at hand to profit from your goodness?’

I felt extremely foolish, and begged Mrs Mirvan to lead to a seat, which she very obligingly did. The Captain sat next her, and, to my great surprise, this gentleman thought proper to follow, and seat himself next to me.

‘What an insensible!’ continued he, ‘why, Madam, you are missing the most delightful dance in the world! The man must be either mad, or a fool – Which do you incline to think him yourself?’

‘Neither, Sir,’ answered I in some confusion.

He begged my pardon for the freedom of his supposition, saying, ‘I really was off my guard, from astonishment that any man can be so much and so unaccountably his own enemy. But where, Madam, can he possibly be? – has he left the room? – or has not he been in it?’

‘Indeed, Sir,’ said I peevishly, ‘I know nothing of him.’

‘I don’t wonder that you are disconcerted, Madam, it is really very provoking. The best part of the evening will be absolutely lost. He deserves not that you should wait for him.’

‘I do not, Sir,’ said I, ‘and I beg you not to——’

‘Mortifying, indeed, Madam,’ interrupted he, ‘a lady to wait for a gentleman: – O fie! – careless fellow! – what can detain him? – Will you give me leave to seek him?’

‘If you please, Sir,’ answered I, quite terrified lest Mrs Mirvan should attend to him, for she looked very much surprised at seeing me enter into conversation with a stranger.

‘With all my heart,’ cried he; ‘pray what coat has he on?’

‘Indeed I never looked at it.’

‘Out upon him!’ cried he; ‘What! did he address you in a coat not worth looking at? – What a shabby wretch!’

How ridiculous! I really could not help laughing, which, I fear, encouraged him, for he went on.

‘Charming creature! – and can you really bear ill usage with so much sweetness? – Can you, like patience on a monument, smile in the midst of disappointment? – For my part, though I am not the offended person, my indignation is so great, that I long to kick the fellow round the room! – unless, indeed, – ’ (hesitating and looking earnestly at me) ‘unless, indeed – it is a partner of your own creating?’

I was dreadfully abashed, and could not make any answer.

‘But no!’ cried he (again, and with warmth), ‘it cannot be that you are so cruel! Softness itself is painted in your eyes: – You could not, surely, have the barbarity so wantonly to trifle with my misery.’

I turned away from this nonsense, with real disgust. Mrs Mirvan saw my confusion, but was perplexed what to think of it, and I could not explain to her the cause, lest the Captain should hear me. I therefore proposed to walk, she consented, and we all rose; but, would you believe it? this man had the assurance to rise too, and walk close by my side, as if of my party!

‘Now,’ cried he, ‘I hope we shall see this ingrate. – Is that he?’ – pointing to an old man, who was lame, ‘or that?’ And in this manner he asked me of whoever was old or ugly in the room. I made no sort of answer; and when he found that I was resolutely silent, and walked on, as much as I could, without observing him, he suddenly stamped his foot, and cried out, in a passion, ‘Fool! ideot! booby!’

I turned hastily toward him: ‘O Madam,’ continued he, ‘forgive my vehemence, but I am distracted to think there should exist a wretch who can slight a blessing for which I would forfeit my life! – O! that I could but meet him! – I would soon – But I grow angry: pardon me, Madam, my passions are violent, and your injuries affect me!’

I began to apprehend he was a madman, and stared at him with the utmost astonishment. ‘I see you are moved, Madam,’ said he, ‘generous creature! – but don’t be alarmed, I am cool again, I am indeed, – upon my soul I am, – I entreat you, most lovely of mortals! I entreat you to be easy.’

‘Indeed, Sir,’ said I very seriously, ‘I must insist upon your leaving me; you are quite a stranger to me, and I am both unused, and averse to your language and your manners.’

This seemed to have some effect on him. He made me a low bow, begged my pardon, and vowed he would not for the world offend me.

‘Then, Sir, you must leave me,’ cried I.

‘I am gone, Madam, I am gone!’ with a most tragical air; and he marched away, a quick pace, out of sight in a moment; but before I had time to congratulate myself, he was again at my elbow.

‘And could you really let me go, and not be sorry? – Can you see me suffer torments inexpressible, and yet retain all your favour for that miscreant who flies you? – Ungrateful puppy! – I could bastinado him!’

‘For Heaven’s sake, my dear,’ cried Mrs Mirvan, ‘who is he talking of?’

‘Indeed – I do not know, Madam,’ said I, ‘but I wish he would leave me.’

‘What’s all that there?’ cried the Captain.

The man made a low bow, and said, ‘Only, Sir, a slight objection which this young lady makes to dancing with me, and which I am endeavouring to obviate. I shall think myself greatly honoured, if you will intercede for me.’

‘That lady, Sir,’ said the Captain coldly, ‘is her own mistress.’ And he walked sullenly on.

‘You, Madam,’ said the man, who looked delighted, to Mrs Mirvan, ‘you, I hope, will have the goodness to speak for me.’

‘Sir,’ answered she gravely, ‘I have not the pleasure of being acquainted with you.’

‘I hope when you have, Ma’am,’ cried he, undaunted, ‘you will honour me with your approbation; but, while I am yet unknown to you, it would be truly generous in you to countenance me; and, I flatter myself, Madam, that you will not have cause to repent it.’

Mrs Mirvan, with an embarrassed air, replied, ‘I do not at all mean, Sir, to doubt your being a gentleman, – but, – ’

‘But what, Madam? – that doubt removed, why a but?’

‘Well, Sir,’ said Mrs Mirvan (with a good-humoured smile), ‘I will even treat you with your own plainness, and try what effect that will have on you: I must therefore tell you, once for all,——’

‘O pardon me Madam!’ interrupted he eagerly, ‘you must not proceed with those words, once for all; no, if I have been too plain, and though a man, deserve a rebuke, remember, dear ladies, that if you copy, you ought, in justice, to excuse me.’

We both stared at the man’s strange behaviour.

‘Be nobler than your sex,’ continued he, turning to me, ‘honour me with one dance, and give up the ingrate who has merited so ill your patience.’

Mrs Mirvan looked with astonishment at us both. ‘Who does he speak of, my dear? – you never mentioned——’

‘O Madam!’ exclaimed he, ‘he was not worth mentioning – it is pity he was ever thought of; but let us forget his existence. One dance is all I solicit; permit me, Madam, the honour of this young lady’s hand; it will be a favour I shall ever most gratefully acknowledge.’

‘Sir,’ answered she, ‘favours and strangers have with me no connection.’

‘If you have hitherto,’ said he, ‘confined your benevolence to your intimate friends, suffer me to be the first for whom your charity is enlarged.’

‘Well, Sir, I know not what to say to you, – but – ’

He stopped her but with so many urgent entreaties, that she at last told me, I must either go down one dance, or avoid his importunities by returning home.