CHAPTER VI.
_Conclusion of the unfortunate jilt._
Leonora, having once broke through the bounds which custom and modestyimpose on her sex, soon gave an unbridled indulgence to her passion. Hervisits to Bellarmine were more constant, as well as longer, than hissurgeon's: in a word, she became absolutely his nurse; made hiswater-gruel, administered him his medicines; and, notwithstanding theprudent advice of her aunt to the contrary, almost intirely resided inher wounded lover's apartment.
The ladies of the town began to take her conduct under consideration: itwas the chief topic of discourse at their tea-tables, and was veryseverely censured by the most part; especially by Lindamira, a ladywhose discreet and starch carriage, together with a constant attendanceat church three times a day, had utterly defeated many malicious attackson her own reputation; for such was the envy that Lindamira's virtue hadattracted, that, notwithstanding her own strict behaviour and strictenquiry into the lives of others, she had not been able to escape beingthe mark of some arrows herself, which, however, did her no injury; ablessing, perhaps, owed by her to the clergy, who were her chief malecompanions, and with two or three of whom she had been barbarously andunjustly calumniated.
"Not so unjustly neither, perhaps," says Slipslop; "for the clergy aremen, as well as other folks."
The extreme delicacy of Lindamira's virtue was cruelly hurt by thosefreedoms which Leonora allowed herself: she said, "It was an affront toher sex; that she did not imagine it consistent with any woman's honourto speak to the creature, or to be seen in her company; and that, forher part, she should always refuse to dance at an assembly with her,for fear of contamination by taking her by the hand."
But to return to my story: as soon as Bellarmine was recovered, whichwas somewhat within a month from his receiving the wound, he set out,according to agreement, for Leonora's father's, in order to propose thematch, and settle all matters with him touching settlements, andthe like.
A little before his arrival the old gentleman had received an intimationof the affair by the following letter, which I can repeat verbatim, andwhich, they say, was written neither by Leonora nor her aunt, though itwas in a woman's hand. The letter was in these words:--
"SIR,--I am sorry to acquaint you that your daughter, Leonora, hathacted one of the basest as well as most simple parts with a younggentleman to whom she had engaged herself, and whom she hath (pardon theword) jilted for another of inferior fortune, notwithstanding hissuperior figure. You may take what measures you please on this occasion;I have performed what I thought my duty; as I have, though unknown toyou, a very great respect for your family."
The old gentleman did not give himself the trouble to answer this kindepistle; nor did he take any notice of it, after he had read it, till hesaw Bellarmine. He was, to say the truth, one of those fathers who lookon children as an unhappy consequence of their youthful pleasures;which, as he would have been delighted not to have had attended them, sowas he no less pleased with any opportunity to rid himself of theincumbrance. He passed, in the world's language, as an exceeding goodfather; being not only so rapacious as to rob and plunder all mankind tothe utmost of his power, but even to deny himself the conveniencies, andalmost necessaries, of life; which his neighbours attributed to a desireof raising immense fortunes for his children: but in fact it was notso; he heaped up money for its own sake only, and looked on his childrenas his rivals, who were to enjoy his beloved mistress when he wasincapable of possessing her, and which he would have been much morecharmed with the power of carrying along with him; nor had his childrenany other security of being his heirs than that the law would constitutethem such without a will, and that he had not affection enough for anyone living to take the trouble of writing one.
To this gentleman came Bellarmine, on the errand I have mentioned. Hisperson, his equipage, his family, and his estate, seemed to the fatherto make him an advantageous match for his daughter: he therefore veryreadily accepted his proposals: but when Bellarmine imagined theprincipal affair concluded, and began to open the incidental matters offortune, the old gentleman presently changed his countenance, saying,"He resolved never to marry his daughter on a Smithfield match; thatwhoever had love for her to take her would, when he died, find her shareof his fortune in his coffers; but he had seen such examples ofundutifulness happen from the too early generosity of parents, that hehad made a vow never to part with a shilling whilst he lived." Hecommended the saying of Solomon, "He that spareth the rod spoileth thechild;" but added, "he might have likewise asserted, That he thatspareth the purse saveth the child." He then ran into a discourse on theextravagance of the youth of the age; whence he launched into adissertation on horses; and came at length to commend those Bellarminedrove. That fine gentleman, who at another season would have been wellenough pleased to dwell a little on that subject, was now very eager toresume the circumstance of fortune. He said, "He had a very high valuefor the young lady, and would receive her with less than he would anyother whatever; but that even his love to her made some regard toworldly matters necessary; for it would be a most distracting sight forhim to see her, when he had the honour to be her husband, in less than acoach and six." The old gentleman answered, "Four will do, four willdo;" and then took a turn from horses to extravagance and fromextravagance to horses, till he came round to the equipage again;whither he was no sooner arrived than Bellarmine brought him back to thepoint; but all to no purpose; he made his escape from that subject in aminute; till at last the lover declared, "That in the present situationof his affairs it was impossible for him, though he loved Leonora morethan _tout le monde_, to marry her without any fortune." To which thefather answered, "He was sorry that his daughter must lose so valuable amatch; that, if he had an inclination, at present it was not in hispower to advance a shilling: that he had had great losses, and been atgreat expenses on projects; which, though he had great expectation fromthem, had yet produced him nothing: that he did not know what mighthappen hereafter, as on the birth of a son, or such accident; but hewould make no promise, or enter into any article, for he would not breakhis vow for all the daughters in the world."
In short, ladies, to keep you no longer in suspense, Bellarmine, havingtried every argument and persuasion which he could invent, and findingthem all ineffectual, at length took his leave, but not in order toreturn to Leonora; he proceeded directly to his own seat, whence, aftera few days' stay, he returned to Paris, to the great delight of theFrench and the honour of the English nation.
But as soon as he arrived at his home he presently despatched amessenger with the following epistle to Leonora:--
"ADORABLE AND CHARMANTE,--I am sorry to have the honour to tell you Iam not the _heureux_ person destined for your divine arms. Your papahath told me so with a _politesse_ not often seen on this side Paris.You may perhaps guess his manner of refusing me. _Ah, mon Dieu!_ Youwill certainly believe me, madam, incapable myself of delivering this_triste_ message, which I intend to try the French air to cure theconsequences of. _A jamais! Coeur! Ange! Au diable!_ If your papaobliges you to a marriage, I hope we shall see you at Paris; till when,the wind that flows from thence will be the warmest _dans le monde_, forit will consist almost entirely of my sighs. _Adieu, ma princesse!Ah, l'amour!_
"BELLARMINE."
I shall not attempt, ladies, to describe Leonora's condition when shereceived this letter. It is a picture of horror, which I should have aslittle pleasure in drawing as you in beholding. She immediately left theplace where she was the subject of conversation and ridicule, andretired to that house I showed you when I began the story; where shehath ever since led a disconsolate life, and deserves, perhaps, pity forher misfortunes, more than our censure for a behaviour to which theartifices of her aunt very probably contributed, and to which very youngwomen are often rendered too liable by that blameable levity in theeducation of our sex.
"If I was inclined to pity her," said a young lady in the coach, "itwould be for the loss of Horatio; for I cannot discern any misfor
tune inher missing such a husband as Bellarmine."
"Why, I must own," says Slipslop, "the gentleman was a littlefalse-hearted; but howsumever, it was hard to have two lovers, and getnever a husband at all. But pray, madam, what became of _Our-asho_?"
He remains, said the lady, still unmarried, and hath applied himself sostrictly to his business, that he hath raised, I hear, a veryconsiderable fortune. And what is remarkable, they say he never hearsthe name of Leonora without a sigh, nor hath ever uttered one syllableto charge her with her ill-conduct towards him.
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