Yours, A. Fitzgerald.

  LETTER 219.

  To Captain Fitzgerald.

  Bellfield, Nov. 17, Morning.

  I have had a letter from Colonel Willmott myself to-day; he is stillquite unacquainted with the state of our domestic affairs; supposes mea batchelor, and talks of my being his son-in-law as a certainty, notattending to the probability of my having other engagements.

  His history, which he tells me in this letter, is a very romanticone. He was a younger brother, and provided for accordingly: he loved,when about twenty, a lady who was as little a favorite of fortune ashimself: their families, who on both sides had other views, joinedtheir interest to get him sent to the East Indies; and the young ladywas removed to the house of a friend in London, where she was tocontinue till he had left England.

  Before he went, however, they contrived to meet, and were privatelymarried; the marriage was known only to her brother, who wasWillmott's friend.

  He left her in the care of her brother, who, under pretence ofdiverting her melancholy, and endeavoring to cure her passion, obtainedleave of his father to take her with him to France.

  She was there delivered of this child, and expired a few days after.

  Her brother, without letting her family know the secret, educatedthe infant, as the daughter of a younger brother who had been justbefore killed in a duel in France; her parents, who died in a fewyears, were, almost in their last moments, informed of thesecircumstances, and made a small provision for the child.

  In the mean time, Colonel Willmott, after experiencing a greatvariety of misfortunes for many years, during which he maintained aconstant correspondence with his brother-in-law, and with no otherperson in Europe, by a train of lucky accidents, acquired very rapidlya considerable fortune, with which he resolved to return to England,and marry his daughter to me, as the only method to discharge fullyhis obligations to my grandfather, who alone, of all his family, hadgiven him the least assistance when he left England. He wrote to hisdaughter, letting her know his design, and directing her to meet him inLondon; but she is not yet arrived.

  Six in the evening.

  My mother and Emily went to Temple's to dinner; they are to dressthere, and I am to be surprized.

  Seven.

  Colonel Willmott is come: he is an extreme handsome man; tall,well-made, with an air of dignity which one seldom sees; he is verybrown, and, what will please Bell, has an aquiline nose: he looks aboutfifty, but is not so much; change of climate has almost always thedisagreable effect of adding some years to the look.

  He is dressing, to accompany me to the masquerade; I must attendhim: I have only time to say,

  I am yours, Ed. Rivers.

  LETTER 220.

  To Mrs. Rivers, Bellfield, Rutland.

  London, Nov. 18, twelve at night.

  Who should I dine and sup with to-day, at a merchant's in the city,but your old love, Sir George Clayton, as gay and amusing as ever!

  What an entertaining companion have you lost, my dear Emily!

  He was a little disconcerted at seeing me, and blushed extremely;but soon recovered his amiable, uniform insipidity of countenance, andsmiled and simpered as usual.

  He never enquired after you, nor even mentioned your name; beingasked for a toast, I had the malice to give Rivers; he drank him,without seeming ever to have heard of him before.

  The city misses admire him prodigiously, and he them; they arecharmed with his beauty, and he with their wit.

  His mother, poor woman! could not bring the match she wrote about tobear: the family approved him; but the fair one made a better choice,and gave herself last week, at St. George's, Hanover-square, to a veryagreable fellow of our acquaintance, Mr. Palmer; a man of sense andhonor, who deserves her had she been ten times richer: he has a smallestate in Lincolnshire, and his house is not above twenty miles fromyou: I must bring you and Mrs. Palmer acquainted.

  I suppose you are now the happiest of beings; Rivers finding athousand new beauties in his _belle paisanne_, and you exulting inyour charms, or, in other words, glorying in your strength.

  So the maiden aunts in your neighbourhood think Miss Williams nobetter than she should be?

  Either somebody has said, or the idea is my own; after all, Ibelieve it Shenstone's, That those are generally the best people, whosecharacters have been most injured by slanderers, as we usually findthat the best fruit which the birds have been pecking at.

  I will, however, allow appearances were a little against yourcottager; and I would forgive the good old virgins, if they had alwaysas suspicious circumstances to determine from.

  But they generally condemn from trifling indiscretions, and settlethe characters of their own sex from their conduct at a time of lifewhen they are themselves no judges of its propriety; they pass sentenceon them for small errors, when it is an amazing proof of prudence notto commit great ones.

  For my own part, I think those who never have been guilty of anyindiscretion, are generally people who have very little active virtue.

  The waving line holds in moral as well as in corporeal beauty.

  Adieu! Yours ever, A. Fitzgerald.

  All I can say is, that if imprudence is a sin, heaven help your poorlittle Bell!

  On those principles, Sir George is the most virtuous man in theworld; to which assertion, I believe, you will enter a caveat.

  LETTER 221.

  To Colonel Rivers, at Bellfield, Rutland.

  London, Nov. 19.

  You are right, my little Rivers: I like your friend, ColonelWillmott vastly better for his aquiline nose; I never yet saw one onthe face of a fool.

  He is a fortunate man to be introduced to such a party of fine womenat his arrival; it is literally _to feed among the lilies_.

  Fitzgerald says, he should be jealous of him in your esteem, if hewas fifteen years younger; but that the strongest friendships are,where there is an equality in age; because people of the same age havethe same train of thinking, and see things in the same light.

  Every season of life has its peculiar set of ideas; and we aregreatly inclined to think nobody in the right, but those who are of thesame opinion with ourselves.

  Don't you think it a strong proof of my passion for my _sposo_,that I repeat his sentiments?

  But to business: Sir William is charmed with his little nephew; haspromised to settle on him what he before mentioned, to allow MissWilliams an hundred pounds a year, which is to go to the child afterher death, and to be at the expence of his education himself.

  I die to hear whether your oriental Colonel is in love with Emily.

  Pray tell us every thing.

  Adieu! Your affectionate A. Fitzgerald.

  LETTER 222.

  To Captain Fitzgerald.

  Temple-house, Thursday morning, 11 o'clock.

  Our masquerade last night was really charming; I never saw any thingequal to it out of London.

  Temple has taste, and had spared no expence to make it agreable; thedecorations of the grand saloon were magnificent.

  Emily was the loveliest _paisanne_ that ever was beheld; herdress, without losing sight of the character, was infinitely becoming:her beauty never appeared to such advantage.

  There was a noble simplicity in her air, which it is impossible todescribe.

  The easy turn of her shape, the lovely roundness of her arm, thenatural elegance of her whole form, the waving ringlets of herbeautiful dark hair, carelessly fastened with a ribbon, the unaffectedgrace of her every motion, all together conveyed more strongly thanimagination can paint, the pleasing idea of a wood nymph, deigning tovisit some favored mortal.

  Colonel Willmott gazed on her with rapture; and asked me, if therural deities had left their verdant abodes to visit Temple-house.

  I introduced him to her, and left her to improve the impression:'tis well I was married in time; a nabob is a dangerous rival.

  Lucy looked lovely, but in another style;
she was a sultana in allthe pride of imperial beauty: her charms awed, but Emily's invited; herlook spoke resistless command, Emily's soft persuasion.

  There were many fine women; but I will own to you, I had, as tobeauty, no eyes but for Emily.

  We are going this morning to see Burleigh: when we return, I shallannounce Colonel Willmott to Emily, and introduce them properly to eachother; they are to go in the same chaise; she at present only knows himas a friend of mine, and he her as his _belle paisanne_.

  Adieu! I am summoned. Your faithful Ed. Rivers.

  I should have told you, I acquainted Colonel Willmott with mysister's marriage before I took him to Temple-house, and found anopportunity of introducing him to Temple unobserved.

  Emily is the only one here to whom he is a stranger: I will cautionhim not to mention to her his past generous design in my favor. Adieu!

  LETTER 223.

  To Mrs. Fitzgerald.

  Temple-house, Thursday morning.

  Your Emily was happy beyond words last night: amongst a crowd ofbeauties, her Rivers's eyes continually followed her; he seemed to seeno other object: he would scarce let me wait till supper to unmask.

  But you will call me a foolish romantic girl; therefore I will onlysay, I had the delight to see him pleased with my dress, and charmedwith the complaisance which was shewed me by others.

  There was a gentleman who came with Rivers, who was particularlyattentive to me; he is not young, but extremely amiable: has a veryfine person, with a commanding air; great politeness, and, as far asone can judge by a few hours conversation, an excellent understanding.

  I never in my life met with a man for whom I felt such a partialityat first sight, except Rivers, who tells me, I have made a conquest ofhis friend.

  He is to be my cavalier this morning to Burleigh.

  It has this moment struck me, that Rivers never introduced hisfriend and me to each other, but as masks; I never thought of thisbefore: I suppose he forgot it in the hurry of the masquerade.

  I do not even know this agreable stranger's name; I only found outby his conversation he had served in the army.

  There is no saying how beautiful Lucy looked last night; her dresswas rich, elegantly fancied, and particularly becoming to her gracefulform, which I never saw look so graceful before.

  All who attempted to be fine figures, shrunk into nothing before her.

  Lucy carries her head, you know, remarkably well; which, with theadvantage of her height, the perfect standard of women, her fineproportion, the native dignity of her air, the majestic flow of herrobe, and the blaze of her diamonds, gave her a look of infinitesuperiority; a superiority which some of the company seemed to feel ina manner, which rather, I will own, gave me pain.

  In a place consecrated to joy, I hate to see any thing like anuneasy sensation; yet, whilst human passions are what they are, it isdifficult to avoid them.

  There were four or five other sultanas, who seemed only the slavesof her train.

  In short,

  "She look'd a goddess, and she mov'd a queen."

  I was happy the unassuming simplicity of the character in which Iappeared, prevented comparisons which must have been extremely to mydisadvantage.

  I was safe in my littleness, like a modest shrub by the side of acedar; and, being in so different a style, had the better chance to betaken notice of, even where Lucy was.

  She was radiant as the morning star, and even dazzlingly lovely.

  Her complexion, for Temple would not suffer her to wear a mask atall, had the vivid glow of youth and health, heightened by pleasure,and the consciousness of universal admiration.

  Her eyes had a fire which one could scarce look at.

  Temple's vanity and tenderness were gratified to the utmost: hedrank eagerly the praises which envy itself could not have refused her.

  My mother extremely became her character; and, when talking toRivers, gave me the idea of the Roman Aurelia, whose virtues she hasequalled.

  He looked at her with a delight which rendered him a thousand timesmore dear to me: she is really one of the most pleasing women thatever existed.

  I am called: we are just setting out for Burleigh, which I have notyet seen.

  Adieu! Yours Emily Rivers.

  LETTER 224.

  To Captain Fitzgerald.

  Bellfield, Thursday, two o'clock.

  We are returned: Colonel Willmott is charmed with Burleigh, and morein love with Emily than ever.

  He is gone to his apartment, whither I shall follow him, andacquaint him with my marriage; he is exactly in the disposition Icould wish.

  He will, I am sure, pardon any offence of which his _belle paisanne_is the cause.

  I am returned.

  He is disappointed, but not surprized; owns no human heart couldhave resisted Emily; begs she will allow his daughter a place in herfriendship.

  He insists on making her a present of diamonds; the only condition,he tells me, on which he will forgive my marriage.

  I am going to introduce him to her in her apartment.

  Adieu! for a moment.

  Fitzgerald!--I scarce respire--the tumult of my joy--thisdaughter whom I have refused--my Emily--could you have believed--myEmily is the daughter of Colonel Willmott.

  When I announced him to her by that name, her color changed; butwhen I added that he was just returned from the East Indies, shetrembled, her cheeks had a dying paleness, her voice faltered, shepronounced faintly, "My father!" and sunk breathless on a sofa.

  He ran to her, he pressed her wildly to his bosom, he kissed herpale cheek, he demanded if she was indeed his child? his Emily? thedear pledge of his Emily Montague's tenderness?

  Her senses returned, she fixed her eyes eagerly on him, she kissedhis hand, she would have spoke, but tears stopped her voice.

  The scene that followed is beyond my powers of description.

  I have left them a moment, to share my joy with you: the time is tooprecious to say more. To-morrow you shall hear from me.

  Adieu! Yours, Ed. Rivers.

  LETTER 225.

  To Captain Fitzgerald.

  Temple-house, Friday.

  Your friend is the happiest of mankind.

  Every anxiety is removed from my Emily's dear bosom: a father'ssanction leaves her nothing to desire.

  You may remember, she wished to delay our marriage: her motive was,to wait Colonel Willmott's return.

  Though promised by him to another, she hoped to bring him to leaveher heart free; little did she think the man destined for her by herfather, was the happy Rivers her heart had chosen.

  Bound by a solemn vow, she concealed the circumstances of her birtheven from me.

  She resolved never to marry another, yet thought duty obliged her towait her father's arrival.

  She kindly supposed he would see me with her eyes, and, when he knewme, change his design in my favor: she fancied he would crown her loveas the reward of her obedience in delaying her marriage.

  My importunity, and the fear of giving me room to doubt hertenderness, as her vow prevented such an explanation as would havesatisfied me, bore down her duty to a father whom she had never seen,and whom she had supposed dead, till the arrival of Mrs. Melmoth'sletters; having been two years without hearing any thing of him.

  She married me, determined to give up her right to half his fortunein favor of the person for whom he designed her; and hoped, by thatmeans, to discharge her father's obligations, which she could not payat the expence of sacrificing her heart.

  But she writes to Mrs. Fitzgerald, and will tell you all.

  Come and share the happiness of your friends.

  Adieu! Your faithful Ed. Rivers.

  LETTER 226.

  To Mrs. Fitzgerald.

  Temple-house, Friday.

  My Rivers has told you--my sweet friend, in what words shall Iconvey to you an adequate idea of your Emily's transport, at adiscovery which has reconcil
ed all her duties!

  Those anxieties, that sense of having failed in filial obedience,which cast a damp on the joy of being wife to the most beloved ofmankind, are at an end.

  This husband whom I so dreaded, whom I determined never to accept,was my Rivers.

  My father forgives me; he pardons the crime of love: he blesses thatkind providence which conducted us to happiness.

  How many has this event made happy!

  The most amiable of mothers shares my joy; she bends in gratefulthanks to that indulgent power who has rewarded her son for all hisgoodness to her.

  Rivers hears her, and turns away to hide his tears: her tendernessmelts him to the softness of a woman.

  What gratitude do we not owe to heaven! may the sense of it be forever engraven on our hearts!

  My Lucy too; all, all are happy.

  But I will tell you. Rivers has already acquainted you with part ofmy story.

  My uncle placed me, with a servant, in whom he could confide, in aconvent in France, till I was seven years old; he then sent for me toEngland, and left me at school eight years longer; after which, he tookme with him to his regiment in Kent, where, you know, our friendshipbegan, and continued till he changed into another, then in America,whither I attended him.

  My father's affairs were, at that time, in a situation, whichdetermined my uncle to take the first opportunity of marrying me toadvantage.

 
Frances Brooke's Novels