I must own myself somewhat distressed in what manner to introduce the purport of my writing; yet, as I think that, in affairs of this kind, frankness is the first requisite to a good understanding between the parties concerned, I will neither torment you nor myself with punctilious ceremonies, but proceed instantly and openly to the business which occasions my giving you this trouble.
I presume, Sir, it would be superfluous to tell you, that your child resides still in Dorsetshire, and is still under the protection of the Reverend Mr Villars, in whose house she was born: for, though no enquiries concerning her have reached his ears, or mine, I can never suppose it possible you have forborne to make them. It only remains, therefore, to tell you, that your daughter is now grown up; that she has been educated with the utmost care, and the utmost success; and that she is now a most deserving, accomplished, and amiable young woman.
Whatever may be your view for her future destination in life, it seems time to declare it. She is greatly admired, and, I doubt not, will be very much sought after: it is proper, therefore, that her future expectations, and your pleasure concerning her, should be made known.
Believe me, Sir, she merits your utmost attention and regard. You could not see and know her, and remain unmoved by those sensations of affection which belong to so near and tender a relationship. She is the lovely resemblance of her lovely mother; – pardon, Sir, the liberty I take in mentioning that unfortunate lady, but I think it behoves me, upon this occasion, to shew the esteem I felt for her; allow me, therefore, to say, and be not offended at my freedom, that the memory of that excellent lady has but too long remained under the aspersions of calumny; surely it is time to vindicate her fame! – and how can that be done in a manner more eligible, more grateful to her friends, or more honourable to yourself, than by openly receiving as your child, the daughter of the late Lady Belmont?
The venerable man who has had the care of her education, deserves your warmest acknowledgements, for the unremitting pains he has taken, and attention he has shewn, in the discharge of his trust. Indeed she has been peculiarly fortunate in meeting with such a friend and guardian: a more worthy man, or one whose character seems nearer to perfection, does not exist.
Permit me to assure you, Sir, she will amply repay whatever regard and favour you may hereafter shew her, by the comfort and happiness you cannot fail to find in her affection and duty. To be owned properly by you, is the first wish of her heart; and I am sure, that to merit your approbation will be the first study of her life.
I fear that you will think this address impertinent; but I must rest upon the goodness of my intention to plead my excuse.
I am, Sir,
Your most obedient humble servant,
M. HOWARD
END OF THE FIRST VOLUME
VOLUME TWO
Letter One
Evelina to the Rev. Mr Villars
Howard Grove, Kent, May 10
Our house has been enlivened today, by the arrival of a London visitor; and the necessity I have been under of concealing the uneasiness of my mind, has made me exert myself so effectually, that I even think it is really diminished; or, at least, my thoughts are not so totally, so very anxiously occupied by one only subject, as they lately were.
I was strolling this morning with Miss Mirvan, down a lane about a mile from the grove, when we heard the trampling of horses; and, fearing the narrowness of the passage, we were turning hastily back, but stopped upon hearing a voice call out, ‘Pray, Ladies, don’t be frightened, for I will walk my horse.’ We turned again, and then saw Sir Clement Willoughby. He dismounted, and approaching us, with the reins in his hand, presently recollected us. ‘Good Heaven,’ cried he, with his usual quickness, ‘do I see Miss Anville? – and you too, Miss Mirvan?’
He immediately ordered his servant to take charge of his horse, and then, advancing to us, took a hand of each, which he pressed to his lips, and said a thousand fine things concerning his good fortune, our improved looks, and the charms of the country, when inhabited by such rural deities. ‘The town, Ladies, has languished since your absence, – or, at least, I have so much languished myself, as to be absolutely insensible to all it had to offer. One refreshing breeze, such as I now enjoy, awakens me to new vigour, life, and spirit. But I never before had the good luck to see the country in such perfection.’
‘Has not almost every body left town, Sir?’ said Miss Mirvan.
‘I am ashamed to answer you, Madam – but indeed it is as full as ever, and will continue so, till after the birth-day. However, you Ladies were so little seen, that there are but few who know what it has lost. For my own part, I felt it too sensibly, to be able to endure the place any longer.’
‘Is there any body remaining there, that we were acquainted with!’ cried I.
‘O yes, Ma’am.’ And then he named two or three persons we have seen when with him; but he did not mention Lord Orville, and I would not ask him, lest he should think me curious. Perhaps, if he stays here some time, he may speak of him by accident.
He was proceeding in this complimentary style, when we were met by the Captain; who no sooner perceived Sir Clement, than he hastened up to him, gave him a hearty shake of the hand, a cordial slap on the back, and some other equally gentle tokens of satisfaction, assuring him of his great joy at his visit, and declaring he was as glad to see him as if he had been a messenger who brought news that a French ship was sunk. Sir Clement, on the other side, expressed himself with equal warmth, and protested he had been so eager to pay his respects to Captain Mirvan, that he had left London in its full lustre, and a thousand engagements unanswered, merely to give himself that pleasure.
‘We shall have rare sport,’ said the Captain, ‘for do you know the old Frenchwoman is among us? ’Fore George, I have scarce made any use of her yet, by reason I have had nobody with me that could enjoy a joke: howsomever, it shall go hard but we’ll have some diversion now.’
Sir Clement very much approved of the proposal; and we then went into the house, where he had a very grave reception from Mrs Mirvan, who is by no means pleased with his visit, and a look of much discontent from Madame Duval, who said to me, in a low voice, ‘I’d as soon have seen Old Nick as that man, for he’s the most impertinent person in the world, and is n’t never of my side.’
The Captain is now actually occupied in contriving some scheme which, he says, is to play the old Dowager off, and so eager and delighted is he at the idea, that he can scarcely constrain his raptures sufficiently to conceal his design, even from herself. I wish, however, since I do not dare put Madame Duval upon her guard, that he had the delicacy not to acquaint me with his intention.
Letter Two
Evelina in continuation
May 13th
The Captain’s operations are begun, – and, I hope, ended; for indeed, poor Madame Duval has already but too much reason to regret Sir Clement’s visit to Howard Grove.
Yesterday morning, during breakfast, as the Captain was reading the news-paper, Sir Clement suddenly begged to look at it, saying he wanted to know if there was any account of a transaction, at which he had been present the evening before his journey hither, concerning a poor Frenchman, who had got into a scrape which might cost him his life.
The Captain demanded particulars; and then Sir Clement told a long story, of being with a party of country friends, at the Tower, and hearing a man call out for mercy in French; and that when he enquired into the occasion of his distress, he was informed, that he had been taken up upon suspicion of treasonable practices against the government. ‘The poor fellow,’ continued he, ‘no sooner found that I spoke French, than he besought me to hear him, protesting that he had no evil designs; that he had been but a short time in England, and only waited the return of a Lady from the country, to quit it for ever.’
Madame Duval changed colour, and listened with the utmost attention.
‘Now, though I by no means approve of so many foreigners continually flocking into our country,’
added he, addressing himself to the Captain, ‘yet I could not help pitying the poor wretch, because he did not know enough of English to make his defence: however, I found it impossible to assist him, for the mob would not suffer me to interfere. In truth, I am afraid he was but roughly handled.’
‘Why, did they duck him?’ said the Captain.
‘Something of that sort,’ answered he.
‘So much the better! so much the better!’ cried the Captain, ‘an impudent French puppy! – I’ll bet you what you will he was a rascal. I only wish all his countrymen were served the same.’
‘I wish you had been in his place, with all my soul!’ cried Madame Duval, warmly; – ‘but pray, Sir, did n’t nobody know who this poor gentleman was?’
‘Why, I did hear his name,’ answered Sir Clement, ‘but I cannot recollect it.’
‘It was n’t, – it was n’t – Du Bois?’ stammered out Madame Duval.
‘The very name!’ answered he, ‘yes, Du Bois, I remember it now.’
Madame Duval’s cup fell from her hand, as she repeated ‘Du Bois! Monsieur Du Bois, did you say?’
‘Du Bois! why that’s my friend,’ cried the Captain, ‘that’s Monseer Slippery, i’n’t it? – Why he’s plaguy fond of sousing work; howsomever, I’ll be sworn they gave him his fill of it.’
‘And I’ll be sworn,’ cried Madame Duval, ‘that you’re a – but I don’t believe nothing about it, so you need n’t be so overjoyed, for I dare say it was no more Monsieur Du Bois than I am.’
‘I thought at the time,’ said Sir Clement, very gravely, ‘that I had seen the gentleman before, and now I recollect, I think it was in company with you, Madam.’
‘With me, Sir!’ cried Madame Duval.
‘Say you so!’ said the Captain, ‘why then, it must be he, as sure as you’re alive! – Well but, my good friend, what will they do with poor Monseer?’
‘It is difficult to say,’ answered Sir Clement, very thoughtfully, ‘but I should suppose, that if he has not good friends to appear for him, he will be in a very unpleasant situation; for these are serious sort of affairs.’
‘Why, do you think they’ll hang him?’ demanded the Captain.
Sir Clement shook his head, but made no answer.
Madame Duval could no longer contain her agitation; she started from her chair, repeating, with a voice half choaked, ‘Hang him! – they can’t, – they shan’t, – let them at their peril! – however, it’s all false, and I won’t believe a word of it; – but I’ll go to town this very moment, and see M. Du Bois myself; – I won’t wait for nothing.’
Mrs Mirvan begged her not to be alarmed; but she flew out of the room, and up stairs into her own apartment. Lady Howard blamed both the gentlemen for having been so abrupt, and followed her. I would have accompanied her, but the Captain stopped me; and, having first laughed very heartily, said he was going to read his commission to his ship’s company.
‘Now, do you see,’ said he, ‘as to Lady Howard, I sha’n’t pretend for to enlist her into my service, and so I shall e’en leave her to make it out as well as she can; but as to all you, I expect obedience and submission to orders; I am now upon a hazardous expedition, having undertaken to convoy a crazy vessel to the shore of Mortification; so, d’ye see, if any of you have any thing to propose, that will forward the enterprize, – why speak and welcome; but if any of you, that are of my chosen crew, capitulate, or enter into any treaty with the enemy, – I shall look upon you as mutinying, and turn you adrift.’
Having finished this harangue, which was interlarded with many expressions, and sea-phrases, that I cannot recollect, he gave Sir Clement a wink of intelligence, and left us to ourselves.
Indeed, notwithstanding the attempts I so frequently make of writing some of the Captain’s conversation, I can only give you a faint idea of his language; for almost every other word he utters, is accompanied by an oath, which, I am sure, would be as unpleasant for you to read, as for me to write. And, besides, he makes use of a thousand sea-terms, which are to me quite unintelligible.
Poor Madame Duval sent to enquire at all probable places, whether she could be conveyed to town in any stage-coach: but the Captain’s servant brought her for answer, that no London stage would pass near Howard Grove till to-day. She then sent to order a chaise; but was soon assured, that no horses could be procured. She was so much inflamed by these disappointments, that she threatened to set out for town on foot, and it was with difficulty that Lady Howard dissuaded her from this mad scheme.
The whole morning was filled up with these enquiries. But, when we were all assembled to dinner, she endeavoured to appear perfectly unconcerned, and repeatedly protested that she gave not any credit to the report, as far as it regarded M. Du Bois, being very certain that he was not the person in question.
The Captain used the most provoking efforts to convince her that she deceived herself; while Sir Clement, with more art, though not less malice, affected to be of her opinion; but, at the same time that he pretended to relieve her uneasiness, by saying that he doubted not having mistaken the name, he took care to enlarge upon the danger to which the unknown gentleman was exposed, and expressed great concern at his perilous situation.
Dinner was hardly removed, when a letter was delivered to Madame Duval. The moment she had read it, she hastily demanded from whom it came? ‘A country boy brought it,’ answered the servant, ‘but he would not wait.’
‘Run after him this instant!’ cried she, ‘and be sure you bring him back. Mon Dieu! quel avanture! que ferai-je?’*
‘What’s the matter? what’s the matter?’ said the Captain.
‘Why nothing, – nothing’s the matter. O mon Dieu!’
And she rose, and walked about the room.
‘Why, what – has Monseer sent to you?’ continued the Captain: ‘is that there letter from him?’
‘No, – it i’n’t; – besides, if it is, it’s nothing to you.’
‘O then, I’m sure it is! Pray now, Madame, don’t be so close; come, tell us all about it, – what does he say? how did he relish the horse-pond? – which did he find best, sousing single or double? – ’Fore George, ’twas plaguy unlucky you was not with him!’
‘It’s no such a thing, Sir,’ cried she, very angrily, ‘and if you’re so very fond of a horse-pond, I wish you’d put yourself into one, and not be always a-thinking about other people’s being served so.’
The man then came in, to acquaint her they could not overtake the boy. She scolded violently, and was in such perturbation, that Lady Howard interfered, and begged to know the cause of her uneasiness, and whether she could assist her?
Madame Duval cast her eyes upon the Captain and Sir Clement, and said she should be glad to speak to her Ladyship, without so many witnesses.
‘Well, then, Miss Anville,’ said the Captain, turning to me, ‘do you and Molly go into another room, and stay there till Mrs Duval has opened her mind to us.’
‘So you may think, Sir,’ cried she, ‘but who’s fool then? no, no, you need n’t trouble yourself to make a ninny of me, neither, for I’m not so easily taken in, I’ll assure you.’
Lady Howard then invited her into the dressing-room, and I was desired to attend her.
As soon as we had shut the door, ‘O my Lady,’ exclaimed Madame Duval, ‘here’s the most cruellest thing in the world has happened! – but that Captain is such a beast, I can’t say nothing before him, – but it’s all true! poor M. Du Bois is tooked up!’
Lady Howard begged her to be comforted, saying that, as M. Du Bois was certainly innocent, there could be no doubt of his ability to clear himself.
‘To be sure, my Lady,’ answered she, ‘I know he is innocent; and to be sure they’ll never be so wicked as to hang him for nothing?’
‘Certainly not,’ replied Lady Howard, ‘you have no reason to be uneasy. This is not a country where punishment is inflicted without proof.’
‘Very true, my Lady; but the worst thing is this; I c
annot bear that that fellow, the Captain, should know about it; for if he does, I sha’n’t never hear the last of it; – no more won’t poor M. Du Bois.’
‘Well, well,’ said Lady Howard, ‘shew me the letter, and I will endeavour to advise you.’
The letter was then produced. It was signed by the clerk of a country justice; who acquainted her, that a prisoner, then upon trial for suspicion of treasonable practices against the government, was just upon the point of being committed to jail, but having declared that he was known to her, this clerk had been prevailed upon to write, in order to enquire if she really could speak to the character and family of a Frenchman who called himself Pierre Du Bois.
When I heard the letter, I was quite amazed at its success. So improbable did it seem, that a foreigner should be taken before a country justice of peace, for a crime of so dangerous a nature, that I cannot imagine how Madame Duval could be alarmed, even for a moment. But, with all her violence of temper, I see that she is easily frightened, and, in fact, more cowardly than many who have not half her spirit; and so little does she reflect upon circumstances, or probability, that she is continually the dupe of her own – I ought not to say ignorance, but yet, I can think of no other word.
I believe that Lady Howard, from the beginning of the transaction, suspected some contrivance of the Captain, and this letter, I am sure, must confirm her suspicion: however, though she is not at all pleased with his frolick, yet she would not hazard the consequence of discovering his designs: her looks, her manner, and her character, made me draw this conclusion from her apparent perplexity; for not a word did she say, that implied any doubt of the authenticity of the letter. Indeed there seems to be a sort of tacit agreement between her and the Captain, that she should not appear to be acquainted with his schemes; by which means she at once avoids quarrels, and supports her dignity.
While she was considering what to propose, Madame Duval begged to have the use of her Ladyship’s chariot, that she might go immediately to the assistance of her friend. Lady Howard politely assured her, that it would be extremely at her service; and then Madame Duval besought her not to own to the Captain what had happened, protesting that she could not endure he should know poor M. Du Bois had met with so unfortunate an accident. Lady Howard could not help smiling, though she readily promised not to inform the Captain of the affair. As to me, she desired my attendance; which I was by no means rejoiced at, as I was certain she was going upon a fruitless errand.
Evelina Page 16
