The Collected Works of Frances Burney (Illustrated Edition). Frances Burney
Mr. Coverley sang; and Mr. Lovel, after biting his lips, said “‘Pon honour, that lady — if she was not a lady — I should be half tempted to observe — that there is something — in such severity — that is rather, I must say — rather oddish.”
Just then a servant brought Lady Louisa a note upon a waiter, which is a ceremony always used to her Ladyship; and I took the opportunity of this interruption to the conversation to steal out of the room.
I went immediately to the parlour, which I found quite empty; for I did not dare walk in the garden, after what Mrs. Selwyn had said.
In a few minutes a servant announced Mr. Macartney; saying, as he entered the room, that he would acquaint Lord Orville he was there.
Mr. Macartney rejoiced much at finding me alone. He told me he had taken the liberty to enquire for Lord Orville, by way of pretext for coming to the house.
I then very eagerly enquired if he had seen his father.
“I have, Madam,” said he, “and the generous compassion you have shown made me hasten to acquaint you, that, upon reading my unhappy mother’s letter, he did not hesitate to acknowledge me.”
“Good God,” cried I, with no little emotion, “how similar are our circumstances! And did he receive you kindly?”
“I could not, Madam, expect that he would; the cruel, transaction, which obliged me to fly to Paris, was recent in his memory.”
“And — have you seen the young lady?”
“No, Madam,” said he, mournfully, “I was forbid her sight.”
“Forbid her sight! — and why?”
“Partly, perhaps, from prudence — and partly from the remains of a resentment which will not easily subside. I only requested leave to acquaint her with my relationship, and to be allowed to call her sister; — but it was denied me! ‘You have no sister,’ said Sir John, ‘you must forget her existence.’ Hard and vain command!”
“You have — you have a sister!” cried I, from an impulse of pity, which I could not repress; “a sister who is most warmly interested in your welfare, and who only wants opportunity to manifest her friendship and regard.”
“Gracious Heaven!” cried he, “what does Miss Anville mean?”
“Anville,” said I, “is not my real name; Sir John Belmont is my father — he is your’s — and I am your sister! — You see, therefore, the claim we mutually have to each other’s regard; we are not merely bound by the ties of friendship, but by those of blood. I feel for you, already, all the affection of a sister; I felt it, indeed, before I knew I was one. — Why, my dear brother, do you not speak? — do you hesitate to acknowledge me?”
“I am so lost in astonishment,” cried he, “that I know not if I hear right!”
“I have, then, found a brother,” cried I, holding out my hand, “and he will not own me!”
“Own you! — Oh, Madam,” cried he, accepting my offered hand, “is it indeed possible you can own me? — a poor, wretched adventurer! who so lately had no support but from your generosity? — whom your benevolence snatched from utter destruction? — Can you — Oh, Madam, can you, indeed, and without a blush, condescend to own such an outcast for a brother?”
“Oh, forbear, forbear,” cried I, “is this language proper for a sister? are we not reciprocally bound to each other? — Will you not suffer me to expect from you all the good offices in your power? — But tell me, where is our father at present?”
“At the Hot–Wells, Madam; he arrived there yesterday morning.”
I would have proceeded with further questions, but the entrance of Lord Orville prevented me. The moment he saw us, he started, and would have retreated; but, drawing my hand from Mr. Macartney’s, I begged him to come in.
For a few moments we were all silent, and, I believe, all in equal confusion. Mr. Macartney, however, recollecting himself said “I hope your Lordship will forgive the liberty I have taken in making use of your name.”
Lord Orville, rather coldly, bowed, but said nothing.
Again we were all silent, and then Mr. Macartney took leave.
“I fancy,” said Lord Orville, when he was gone, “I have shortened Mr. Macartney’s visit?”
“No, my Lord, not at all.”
“I had presumed,” said he, with some hesitation, “I should have seen Miss Anville in the garden; — but I knew not she was so much better engaged.”
Before I could answer, a servant came to tell me the chaise was ready, and that Mrs. Selwyn was enquiring for me.
“I will wait on her immediately,” cried I, and away I was running; but Lord Orville, stopping me, said, with great emotion, “Is it thus, Miss Anville, you leave me?”
“My Lord,” cried I, “how can I help it? — perhaps, soon, some better opportunity may offer —”
“Good Heaven!” cried he, “do you take me for a Stoic! what better opportunity may I hope for? — is not the chaise come? — are you not going? have you even deigned to tell me whither?”
“My journey, my Lord, will now be deferred. Mr. Macartney has brought me intelligence which renders it at present unnecessary.”
“Mr. Macartney,” said he, gravely, “seems to have great influence; — yet he is a very young counsellor.”
“Is it possible, my Lord, Mr. Macartney can give you the least uneasiness?”
“My dearest Miss Anville,” said he, taking my hand, “I see, and I adore the purity of your mind, superior as it is to all little arts, and all apprehensions of suspicion; and I should do myself, as well as you, injustice, if I were capable of harbouring the smallest doubts of that goodness which makes you mine forever: nevertheless, pardon me, if I own myself surprised — nay, alarmed, at these frequent meetings with so young a man as Mr. Macartney.”
“My Lord,” cried I, eager to clear myself, “Mr. Macartney is my brother.”
“Your brother! you amaze me! — What strange mystery, then, makes his relationship a secret?”
Just then Mrs. Selwyn opened the door. “O, you are here!” cried she: “Pray, is my Lord so kind as to assist you in preparing for your journey, or in retarding it?”
“I should be most happy,” said Lord Orville, smiling, “if it were in my power to do the latter.”
I then acquainted her with Mr. Macartney’s communication.
She immediately ordered the chaise away: and then took me into her own room, to consider what should be done.
A few minutes sufficed to determine her; and she wrote the following note.
“To Sir John Belmont, Bart.”
“MRS. SELWYN presents her compliments to Sir John Belmont; and, if he is at leisure, will be glad to wait on him this morning, upon business of importance.”
She then ordered her man to enquire at the pump-room for a direction; and went herself to Mrs. Beaumont to apologize for deferring her journey.
An answer was presently returned, that Sir John would be glad to see her.
She would have had me immediately accompany her to the Hot–Wells; but I entreated her to spare me the distress of so abrupt an introduction, and to pave the way for my reception. She consented rather reluctantly, and, attended only by her servant, walked to the Wells.
She was not absent two hours; yet so miserably did time seem to linger, that I thought a thousand accidents had happened, and feared she would never return. I passed the whole time in my own room, for I was too much agitated even to converse with Lord Orville.
The