Evelina Read Online

I hesitated which alternative to chuse; but this impetuous man at length prevailed, and I was obliged to consent to dance with him.

And thus was my deviation from truth punished; and thus did this man’s determined boldness conquer.

During the dance, before we were too much engaged in it for conversation, he was extremely provoking about my partner, and tried every means in his power to make me own that I had deceived him; which, though I would not so far humble myself as to acknowledge, was, indeed, but too obvious.

Lord Orville, I fancy, did not dance at all; he seemed to have a large acquaintance, and joined several different parties: but you will easily suppose I was not much pleased to see him, in a few minutes after I was gone, walk towards the place I had just left, and bow to, and join Mrs Mirvan!

How unlucky I thought myself, that I had not longer withstood this stranger’s importunities! The moment we had gone down the dance, I was hastening away from him, but he stopped me, and said that I could by no means return to my party, without giving offence, before we had done our duty of walking up the dance. As I know nothing at all of these rules and customs, I was obliged to submit to his directions; but I fancy I looked rather uneasy, for he took notice of my inattention, saying, in his free way, ‘Whence that anxiety? – Why are those lovely eyes perpetually averted?’

‘I wish you would say no more to me, Sir,’ cried I peevishly, ‘you have already destroyed all my happiness for this evening.’

‘Good Heaven! what is it I have done? – How have I merited this scorn?’

‘You have tormented me to death; you have forced me from my friends, and intruded yourself upon me, against my will, for a partner.’

‘Surely, my dear Madam, we ought to be better friends, since there seems to be something of sympathy in the frankness of our dispositions. – And yet, were you not an angel – how do you think I could brook such contempt?’

‘If I have offended you,’ cried I, ‘you have but to leave me – and O how I wish you would!’

‘My dear creature,’ said he, half laughing, ‘why, where could you be educated?’

‘Where I most sincerely wish I now was!’

‘How conscious you must be, all beautiful that you are, that those charming airs serve only to heighten the bloom of your complexion!’

‘Your freedom, Sir, where you are more acquainted, may perhaps be less disagreeable; but to me——’

‘You do me justice,’ cried he, interrupting me, ‘yes, I do indeed improve upon acquaintance; you will hereafter be quite charmed with me.’

‘Hereafter, Sir, I hope I shall never – ’

‘O hush! – hush! – have you forgot the situation in which I found you? – Have you forgot, that when deserted, I pursued you, – when betrayed, I adored you? – but for me——’

‘But for you, Sir, I might, perhaps, have been happy.’

‘What then, am I to conclude that, but for me, your partner would have appeared? – poor fellow! – and did my presence awe him?’

‘I wish his presence, Sir, could awe you!’

‘His presence! – perhaps then you see him?’

‘Perhaps, Sir, I do,’ cried I, quite wearied of his raillery.

‘Where? – where? – for Heaven’s sake shew me the wretch!’

‘Wretch, Sir?’

‘O, a very savage! – a sneaking, shamefaced, despicable puppy!’

I know not what bewitched me – but my pride was hurt, and my spirits were tired, and – in short – I had the folly, looking at Lord Orville, to repeat, ‘Despicable, you think?’

His eyes instantly followed mine; ‘Why is that the gentleman?’

I made no answer; I could not affirm, and I would not deny; – for I hoped to be relieved from his teazing, by his mistake.

The very moment we had done what he called our duty, I eagerly desired to return to Mrs Mirvan.

‘To your partner I presume, Madam?’ said he, very gravely.

This quite confounded me; I dreaded lest this mischievous man, ignorant of his rank, should address himself to Lord Orville, and say something which might expose my artifice. Fool! to involve myself in such difficulties! I now feared what I had before wished, and, therefore, to avoid Lord Orville, I was obliged myself to propose going down another dance, though I was ready to sink with shame while I spoke.

‘But your partner, Ma’am?’ said he, affecting a very solemn air, ‘perhaps he may resent my detaining you: if you will give me leave to ask his consent – ’

‘Not for the universe.’

‘Who is he, Madam?’

I wished myself a hundred miles off. He repeated his question, ‘What is his name?’

‘Nothing – nobody – I don’t know. – ’

He assumed a most important solemnity; ‘How! – not know? – Give me leave, my dear Madam, to recommend this caution to you; Never dance in public with a stranger, – with one whose name you are unacquainted with, – who may be a mere adventurer, – a man of no character, – consider to what impertinence you may expose yourself.’

Was ever any thing so ridiculous? I could not help laughing, in spite of my vexation.

At this instant, Mrs Mirvan, followed by Lord Orville, walked up to us. You will easily believe it was not difficult for me to recover my gravity; but what was my consternation, when this strange man, destined to be the scourge of my artifice, exclaimed, ‘Ha! my Lord Orville! – I protest I did not know your Lordship. What can I say for my usurpation? – Yet, faith, my Lord, such a prize was not to be neglected.’

My shame and confusion were unspeakable. Who could have supposed or foreseen that this man knew Lord Orville! But falsehood is not more unjustifiable than unsafe.

Lord Orville – well he might, – looked all amazement.

‘The philosophic coldness of your Lordship,’ continued this odious creature, ‘every man is not endowed with. I have used my utmost endeavours to entertain this lady, though I fear without success; and your Lordship will not be a little flattered, if acquainted with the difficulty which attended my procuring the honour of only one dance.’ Then, turning to me, who was sinking with shame, while Lord Orville stood motionless, and Mrs Mirvan astonished, – he suddenly seized my hand, saying, ‘Think, my Lord, what must be my reluctance to resign this fair hand to your Lordship!’

In the same instant, Lord Orville took it of him; I coloured violently, and made an effort to recover it. ‘You do me too much honour, Sir,’ cried he (with an air of gallantry, pressing it to his lips before he let it go), ‘however, I shall be happy to profit by it, if this lady’ (turning to Mrs Mirvan) ‘will permit me to seek for her party.’

To compel him thus to dance, I could not endure, and eagerly called out, ‘By no means, – not for the world! – I must beg——’

‘Will you honour me, Madam, with your commands,’ cried my tormentor, ‘may I seek the lady’s party?’

‘No Sir,’ answered I, turning from him.

‘What shall be done, my dear?’ said Mrs Mirvan.

‘Nothing, Ma’am; – any thing, I mean——’

‘But do you dance, or not? you see his Lordship waits.’

‘I hope not, – I beg that – I would not for the world – I am sure I ought to – to – ’

I could not speak; but that confident man, determined to discover whether or not I had deceived him, said to Lord Orville, who stood suspended, ‘My Lord, this affair, which, at present, seems perplexed, I will briefly explain; – this lady proposed to me another dance, – nothing could have made me more happy – I only wished for your Lordship’s permission, which, if now granted, will, I am persuaded, set every thing right.’

I glowed with indignation. ‘No, Sir – It is your absence, and that alone, can set every thing right.’

‘For Heaven’s sake, my dear,’ cried Mrs Mirvan, who could no longer contain her surprise, ‘what does all this mean? – were you pre-engaged? – had Lord Orville——’

‘No, Madam,’ cried I, ‘ – only – only I did not know that gentleman, – and so, – and so I thought – I intended – I – ’

Overpowered by all that had passed, I had not strength to make my mortifying explanation; – my spirits quite failed me, and I burst into tears.

They all seemed shocked and amazed.

‘What is the matter, my dearest love?’ cried Mrs Mirvan, with the kindest concern.

‘What have I done?’ exclaimed my evil genius, and ran officiously for a glass of water.

However, a hint was sufficient for Lord Orville, who comprehended all I would have explained. He immediately led me to a seat, and said, in a low voice, ‘Be not distressed, I beseech you; I shall ever think my name honoured by your making use of it.’

This politeness relieved me. A general murmur had alarmed Miss Mirvan, who flew instantly to me; while Lord Orville, the moment Mrs Mirvan had taken the water, led my tormenter away.

‘For Heaven’s sake, dear Madam,’ cried I, ‘let me go home – indeed, I cannot stay here any longer.’

‘Let us all go,’ cried my kind Maria.

‘But the Captain – what will he say – I had better go home in a chair.’

Mrs Mirvan consented, and I rose to depart. Lord Orville and that man both came to me. The first, with an attention I had but ill merited from him, led me to a chair, while the other followed, pestering me with apologies. I wished to have made mine to Lord Orville, but was too much ashamed.

It was about one o’clock. Mrs Mirvan’s servants saw me home.

And now, – what again shall ever tempt me to an assembly? I dread to hear what you will think of me, my most dear and honoured Sir: you will need your utmost partiality, to receive me without displeasure.

This morning Lord Orville has sent to enquire after our healths: and Sir Clement Willoughby, for that, I find, is the name of my persecutor, has called: but I would not go down stairs till he was gone.

And now, my dear Sir, I can somewhat account for the strange, provoking, and ridiculous conduct of this Sir Clement last night; for Miss Mirvan says, he is the very man with whom she heard Lord Orville conversing at Mrs Stanley’s, when I was spoken of in so mortifying a manner. He was pleased to say he was glad to hear I was a fool, and therefore, I suppose, he concluded he might talk as much nonsense as he pleased to me: however, I am very indifferent as to his opinion; – but for Lord Orville, – if then he thought me an ideot, now, I am sure, he must suppose me both bold and presuming. Make use of his name! – what impertinence! – he can never know how it happened, – he can only imagine it was from an excess of vanity: – well, however, I shall leave this bad city to-morrow, and never again will I enter it!

The Captain intends to take us to-night to the Fantocini. I cannot bear that Captain; I can give you no idea how gross he is. I heartily rejoice that he was not present at the disagreeable conclusion of yesterday’s adventure, for I am sure he would have contributed to my confusion; which might perhaps have diverted him, as he seldom or never smiles but at some other person’s expence.

And here I conclude my London letters, – and without any regret, for I am too inexperienced and ignorant to conduct myself with propriety in this town, where every thing is new to me, and many things are unaccountable and perplexing.

Adieu, my dear Sir; Heaven restore me safely to you! I wish I was to go immediately to Berry Hill; yet the wish is ungrateful to Mrs Mirvan, and therefore I will repress it. I shall write an account of the Fantocini from Howard Grove. We have not been to half the public places that are now open, though I dare say you will think we have been to all. But they are almost as innumerable as the persons who fill them.

Letter Fourteen

Evelina in continuation

Queen-Ann-Street, April 13

How much will you be surprised, my dearest Sir, at receiving another letter from London of your Evelina’s writing! But, believe me, it was not my fault, neither is it my happiness, that I am still here: our journey has been postponed by an accident equally unexpected and disagreeable.

We went last night to see the Fantocini, where we had infinite entertainment from the performance of a little comedy, in French and Italian, by puppets, so admirably managed, that they both astonished and diverted us all, except the Captain, who has a fixed and most prejudiced hatred of whatever is not English.

When it was over, while we waited for the coach, a tall elderly woman brushed quickly past us, calling out, ‘My God! what shall I do?’

‘Why what would you do?’ cried the Captain.

‘Ma foi, Monsieur,’* answered she, ‘I have lost my company, and in this place I don’t know nobody.’

There was something foreign in her accent, though it was difficult to discover whether she was an English or a French woman. She was very well dressed, and seemed so entirely at a loss what to do, that Mrs Mirvan proposed to the Captain to assist her.

‘Assist her!’ cried he, ‘ay, with all my heart; – let a link-boy call her a coach.’

There was not one to be had, and it rained very fast.

‘Mon Dieu,’ exclaimed the stranger, ‘what shall become of me? Je suis au désespoir!’*

‘Dear Sir,’ cried Miss Mirvan, ‘pray let us take the poor lady into our coach. She is quite alone, and a foreigner – .’

‘She’s never the better for that,’ answered he, ‘she may be a woman of the town, for any thing you know.’

‘She does not appear such,’ said Mrs Mirvan, ‘and indeed she seems so much distressed, that we shall but follow the golden rule if we carry her to her lodgings.’

‘You are mighty fond of new acquaintance,’ returned he, ‘but first let us know if she be going our way.’

Upon enquiry, we found that she lived in Oxford Road, and, after some disputing, the Captain, surlily, and with a very bad grace, consented to admit her into his coach; though he soon convinced us, that he was determined she should not be too much obliged to him, for he seemed absolutely bent upon quarrelling with her: for which strange inhospitality, I can assign no other reason, than that she appeared to be a foreigner.

The conversation began, by her telling us, that she had been in England only two days; that the gentlemen belonging to her were Parisians, and had left her, to see for a hackney-coach, as her own carriage was abroad; and that she had waited for them till she was quite frightened, and concluded that they had lost themselves.

‘And pray,’ said the Captain, ‘why did you go to a public place without an Englishman?’

‘Ma foi, Sir,’ answered she, ‘because none of my acquaintance is in town.’

‘Why then,’ said he, ‘I’ll tell you what; your best way is to go out of it yourself.’

‘Pardi, Monsieur,’ returned she, ‘and so I shall; for, I promise you, I think the English a parcel of brutes; and I’ll go back to France as fast as I can, for I would not live among none of you.’

‘Who wants you?’ cried the Captain; ‘do you suppose, Madam French, we have not enough of other nations to pick our pockets already? I’ll warrant you, there’s no need for you for to put in your oar.’

‘Pick your pockets, Sir! I wish nobody wanted to pick your pockets no more than I do; and I’ll promise you, you’d be safe enough. But there’s no nation under the sun can beat the English for ill-politeness; for my part, I hate the very sight of them, and so I shall only just visit a person of quality or two, of my particular acquaintance, and then I shall go back again to France.’

‘Ay, do,’ cried he, ‘and then go to the devil together, for that’s the fittest voyage for the French and the quality.’

‘We’ll take care, however,’ cried the stranger, with great vehemence, ‘not to admit none of your vulgar, unmannered English among us.’

‘O never fear,’ returned he coolly, ‘we sha’n’t dispute the point with you; you and the quality may have the devil all to yourselves.’

Desirous of changing the subject of a conversation which now became very alarming, Miss Mirvan called out, ‘Lord, how slow the man drives!’

‘Never mind, Moll,’ said her father, ‘I’ll warrant you he’ll drive fast enough to-morrow, when you’re going to Howard Grove.’

‘To Howard Grove!’ exclaimed the stranger; ‘why mon Dieu, do you know Lady Howard?’

‘Why, what if we do?’ answered he, ‘that’s nothing to you; she’s none of your quality, I’ll promise you.’

‘Who told you that,’ cried she, ‘you don’t know nothing about the matter; besides, you’re the ill-bredest person ever I see; and as to your knowing Lady Howard, I don’t believe no such a thing; unless, indeed, you are her steward.’

The Captain, swearing terribly, said, with great fury, ‘You would much sooner be taken for her wash-woman.’

‘Her wash-woman, indeed! – Ha, ha, ha! – why you ha’n’t no eyes; did you ever see a wash-woman in such a gown as this? – besides, I’m no such mean person, for I’m as good as Lady Howard, and as rich too; and besides, I’m now come to England to visit her.’

‘You may spare yourself that there trouble,’ said the Captain, ‘she has paupers enough about her already.’

‘Paupers, Mr! – no more a pauper than yourself, nor so much neither; – but you are a low, dirty fellow, and I shan’t stoop to take no more notice of you.’

‘Dirty fellow!’ (exclaimed the Captain, seizing both her wrists), ‘hark you, Mrs Frog, you’d best hold your tongue, for I must make bold to tell you, if you don’t, that I shall make no ceremony of tripping you out of the window; and there you may lie in the mud till some of your Monseers come to help you out of it.’

Their increasing passion quite terrified us; and Mrs Mirvan was beginning to remonstrate with the Captain, when we were all silenced by what follows.

‘Let me go, villain that you are, let me go, or I’ll promise you I’ll get you put to prison for this usage; I’m no common person, I assure you, and, ma foi, I’ll go to Justice Fielding about you; for I’m a person of fashion, and I’ll make you know it, or my name i’n’t Duval.’

I heard no more: amazed, frightened, and unspeakably shocked, an involuntary exclamation of Gracious Heaven! escaped me, and, more dead than alive, I sunk into Mrs Mirvan’s arms. But let me draw a veil over a scene too cruel for a heart so compassionately tender as yours; it is sufficient that you know this supposed foreigner proved to be Madame Duval, – the grand-mother of your Evelina!

O, Sir, to discover so near a relation in a woman who had thus introduced herself! – what would become of me, were it not for you, my protector, my friend, and my refuge?

My extreme concern, and Mrs Mirvan’s surprise, immediately betrayed me. But I will not shock you with the manner of her acknowledging me, or the bitterness, the grossness – I cannot otherwise express myself, – with which she spoke of those unhappy past transactions you have so pathetically related to me.