The Greatest Regency Romance Novels. Maria Edgeworth

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СКАЧАТЬ it be innocent, I am of your mind,' replied Miss Betsy; 'I suppose every thing was managed with decency among you.'—'O quite so!' cried the other; 'all harmless libertinism: it is true, there were private rooms; but, you know, one might chuse whether one would go into them or not.'—'I am not sure of that,' said Miss Betsy: 'I am glad, however, you were so well pleased with your entertainment; and equally so, that you were not hindered from enjoying it by my not being able to share with you in it.'

      'I am obliged to you, my dear,' replied Miss Airish; 'I was a little vexed with you at first, indeed, but knew you could not help it: the lady we called upon went very readily with us; so, as it happened, there was no disappointment in the case.'

      'It was only to be convinced of that,' said Miss Betsy, 'that I came hither thus early; but I will now take my leave—repose I am sure is necessary for you, after so many waking hours.' The other did not oppose her departure, being, in effect, desirous of taking that rest which her exhausted spirits wanted.

      Never had Miss Betsy felt within herself a greater or more sincere satisfaction than she now did, for having so prudently avoided falling into inconveniences, the least of which, as she very rightly judged, would have been paying too dear a price for all the pleasures she could have received.

      Sweet indeed are the reflections which flow from a consciousness of having done what virtue, and the duty owing to the character we bear in life, exact from us! but poor Miss Betsy was not to enjoy, for any long time, so happy a tranquillity; she was rouzed out of this serenity of mind by an adventure of a different kind from all she had ever yet experienced, and which, if she were not properly guarded against, it ought to be imputed rather to the unsuspecting goodness of her heart, than to her vanity, or that inadvertency which had occasioned her former mistakes.

      She was sitting near the window, leaning her arms upon the slab, very deep in contemplation, when, hearing a coach stop at the door, she looked out, imagining it might be somebody to her, and saw Mrs. Modely come out: she wondered what business that woman should now come upon, after the letter she had sent her; and resolved to chide her for any impertinent message she should deliver.

      Mrs. Modely, whose profession was known to the people of the house, always ran up without any other ceremony than asking if Miss Betsy was at home and alone: being now told she was so, she flew into the room, with a distraction in her countenance which very much surprized Miss Betsy; but before she had time to ask the meaning, the other, throwing herself down in a chair, increased her astonishment by these words.

      'O, Madam!' cried she, 'I am come to tell you of the saddest accident—poor Sir Frederick Fineer!—O that he had never seen you!—O that I had never meddled between you!—I am undone, that is to be sure—ruined for ever!—I shall never get another lodger—nay, I believe I shall never recover the fright I am in!'

      Here she burst into a violent fit of tears; and her sobs interrupting the passage of her words, gave Miss Betsy opportunity to enquire into the mystery of her behaviour. 'For Heaven's sake, what is the matter?' said that young lady; 'pr'ythee, cease these exclamations, and speak to be understood!'

      'Ah, dear Miss Betsy!' resumed the other, 'I scarce know what I say or do; poor Sir Frederick has run himself quite through the body!'—'What! killed himself!' cried Miss Betsy hastily. 'He is not dead yet,' replied Mrs. Modely; 'but there he lies, the most dismal object that ever eyes beheld! the agonies of death in his face—the sword sticking in his breast; for the surgeon says, that the moment that is drawn out, his life comes with it.'

      Perceiving Miss Betsy said nothing, and looked a little troubled, she went on in this manner. 'But this is not the worst I have to tell you, Madam,' continued she; 'his death is nothing, but it is his soul—his soul, Miss Betsy! hearing them say he could not live above three hours at most, I sent for a parson; and there the good man sits and talks, and argues with him; but, would you think it, he will not pray, nor be prayed for, nor confess his sins—nor say he is sorry for what he has done—nor do any thing that is right till he has seen you.'

      'Me!' said Miss Betsy; 'what would he see me for?'—'Nay, I know not; but it is his whim, and he is obstinate: therefore, my dear Madam, in christian charity, and in compassion to his soul, hear what he has to say.'

      'What good can I do him by going, Mrs. Modely?' said Miss Betsy. 'None, as to his share in the world,' answered she: 'but, dear Madam, consider the other, think what a sad thing it is for a man to die without the rites of the church; I'll warrant he has sins enough upon him, as most young gentlemen have; and, sure, you would not be the cause of his being miserable to all eternity!'

      'Indeed, Mrs. Modely, I do not care to go,' said Miss Betsy. 'The sight is very terrible, indeed,' cried the other; 'but you need not stay two minutes; if you but just step in and speak to him, I fancy it will be enough: but, Lord! he may be dead while we are talking; and if he should leave the world in this manner, I should not be able to live in my house; and I have a lease of eleven years to come—I should think I saw his ghost in every room—so, dear, dear Miss Betsy! for my sake, if not for his, go with me—I came in a hackney-coach for haste, and it is still at the door.'

      'Well, Modely, you shall prevail,' answered Miss Betsy: 'but you shall stay in the room all the time I am there.'—'That you may be sure I will,' returned the other: 'but come, pray Heaven we are not too late!'

      They said little more to each other till they came to the house of Mrs. Modely; where the first sound that reached the ears of Miss Betsy were groans, which seemed to issue from the mouth of a person in the pangs of death.

      Mrs. Modely led her into Sir Frederick's chamber, which was judiciously darkened, so as to leave light enough to discern objects, yet not so much as to render them too perspicuous. Miss Betsy saw him lying on the bed, as Mrs. Modely described, with a sword sticking upright in his breast, a clergyman, and another person, who appeared to be the surgeon, were sitting near him. 'Miss Betsy is so good,' said Mrs. Modely, 'to come to visit you, Sir Frederick.'—'I am glad of it,' replied he, in a low voice.—'Pray, Madam, approach.'

      'I am sorry, Sir Frederick, to find you have been guilty of so rash an action,' said Miss Betsy, drawing towards the bed. 'I could not live without you,' rejoined he; 'nor would die without leaving you as happy as it is in my power to make you: I have settled two thousand pounds a year upon you during your natural life; but, as I would consult your honour in every thing I do, and people might imagine I made you this settlement in consideration of some favours which I had too true a regard for you ever to desire, you must enjoy it as my widow, and with it the title of Lady Fineer.'

      Miss Betsy was so much amazed at this proposal that she had not the power to speak; but Mrs. Modely cried out, 'Was ever any thing so generous!'—'Truly noble, indeed!' added the surgeon; 'and worthy of himself and the love he has for this lady.'—'Bless me!' said Miss Betsy, 'would you have me marry a dying man?—You ought, Sir Frederick, to have other thoughts, as you are going out of the world.'

      'Aye, Sir Frederick,' cried the parson, 'think of your immortal part.'—'I can think of nothing,' answered he, groaning bitterly, 'of my own happiness till I have fixed that of Miss Betsy.'—'Lord, Madam!' cried Mrs. Modely, softly, 'you would not be so mad to refuse: what! two thousand pounds a year, and a ladyship, with liberty to marry who you will!'

      'This is the most generous offer I ever heard of,' said the parson: 'But I wish the lady would resolve soon; for it is high time Sir Frederick should prepare for another world.'—'He cannot live above an hour,' rejoined the surgeon: 'even if the sword is not withdrawn; therefore, good Madam, think what you have to do.'

      While they were speaking, Sir Frederick redoubled his groans, and they went on pressing her to accept the terms he offered. 'Do not plunge a man into a sad eternity, СКАЧАТЬ