The Collected Works of Frances Burney (Illustrated Edition). Frances Burney
more. But what, my dear Sir, am I to conclude from his strange speeches concerning the letter? Does it not seem as if he was himself the author of it? How else should he be so well acquainted with the contempt it merits? Neither do I know another human being who could serve any interest by such a deception. I remember, too, that just as I had given my own letter to the maid, Sir Clement came into the shop: probably he prevailed upon her, by some bribery, to give it to him; and afterwards, by the same means, to deliver to me an answer of his own writing. Indeed I can in no other manner account for this affair. Oh, Sir Clement, were you not yourself unhappy, I know not how I could pardon an artifice that has caused me so much uneasiness!
His abrupt departure occasioned a kind of general consternation.
“Very extraordinary behavior this!” cried Mrs. Beaumont.
“Egad,” said Mr. Coverley, “the baronet has a mind to tip us a touch of the heroics this morning!”
“I declare,” cried Miss Louisa, “I never saw any thing so monstrous in my life! it’s quite abominable; — I fancy the man’s mad; — I’m sure he has given me a shocking fright!”
Soon after, Mrs. Selwyn came up stairs with Lord Merton. The former, advancing hastily to me, said, “Miss Anville, have you an almanack?”
“Me? — no, Madam.”
“Who has one, then?”
“Egad,” cried Mr. Coverley, “I never bought one in my life; it would make me quite melancholy to have such a time-keeper in my pocket. I would as soon walk all day before an hour-glass.”
“You are in the right,” said Mrs. Selwyn, “not to watch time, lest you should be betrayed, unawares, into reflecting how you employ it.”
“Egad, Ma’am,” cried he, “if Time thought no more of me than I do of Time, I believe I should bid defiance, for one while, to old age and wrinkles; for deuce take me, if ever I think about it at all.”
“Pray, Mr. Coverley,” said Mrs. Selwyn, “why do you think it necessary to tell me this so often?”
“Often!” repeated he; “Egad, Madam, I don’t know why I said it now; — but I’m sure I can’t recollect that ever I owned as much before.”
“Owned it before!” cried she, “why, my dear Sir, you own it all day long; for every word, every look, every action proclaims it.”
I now not if he understood the full severity of her satire, but he only turned off with a laugh: and she then applied to Mr. Lovel, and asked if he had an almanack?
Mr. Lovel, who always looks alarmed when she addresses him, with some hesitation answered, “I assure you, Ma’am, I have no manner of antipathy to an almanack — none in the least — I assure you; — I dare say I have four or five.”
“Four or five! — pray, may I ask what use you make of so many?”
“Use! — really, Ma’am, as to that — I don’t make any particular use of them; but one must have them, to tell one the day of the month:— I’m sure, else I should never keep it in my head.”
“And does your time pass so smoothly unmarked, that, without an almanack, you could not distinguish one day from another?”
“Really, Ma’am,” cried he, colouring, “I don’t see anything so very particular in having a few almanacks; other people have them, I believe, as well as me.”
“Don’t be offended,” cried she, “I have but made a little digression. All I want to know is, the state of the moon; — for if it is at the full, I shall be saved a world of conjectures, and know at once to what cause to attribute the inconsistencies I have witnessed this morning. In the first place, I heard Lord Orville excuse himself from going out, because he had business of importance to transact at home; — yet have I seen him sauntering alone in the garden this half hour. Miss Anville, on the other hand, I invited to walk out with me; and, after seeking her every where round the house, I find her quietly seated in the drawing-room. And, but a few minutes since, Sir Clement Willoughby, with even more than his usual politeness, told me he was come to spend the morning here; — when, just now, I met him flying down stairs, as if pursued by the Furies; and far from repeating his compliments, or making any excuse, he did not even answer a question I asked him, but rushed past me, with the rapidity of a thief from a bailiff!”
“I protest,” said Mrs. Beaumont, “I can’t think what he meant; such rudeness, from a man of any family, is quite incomprehensible.”
“My Lord,” cried Lady Louisa to Lord Merton, “do you know he did the same by me? — I was just going to ask him what was the matter; but he ran past me so quick, that I declare he quite dazzled my eyes. You can’t think, my Lord, how he frightened me; I dare say I look as pale — don’t I look very pale, my Lord?”
“Your Ladyship,” said Mr. Lovel, “so well becomes the lilies, that the roses might blush to see themselves so excelled.”
“Pray, Mr. Lovel,” said Mrs. Selwyn,” if the roses should blush, how would you find it out?”
“Egad,” cried Mr. Coverley, “I suppose they must blush, as the saying is, like a blue dog — for they are red already.”
“Prithee, Jack,” said Lord Merton, “don’t you pretend to talk about blushes, that never knew what they were in your life.”
“My Lord,” said Mrs. Selwyn, “if experience alone can justify mentioning them, what an admirable treatise upon the subject may we not expect from your Lordship!”
“O, pray, Ma’am,” answered he, “stick to Jack Coverley — he’s your only man; for my part, I confess I have a mortal aversion to arguments.”
“O, fie, my Lord,” cried Mrs. Selwyn, “a senator of the nation! a member of the noblest parliament in the world! — and yet neglect the art of oratory!”
“Why, faith, my Lord,” said Mr. Lovel, “I think, in general, your House is not much addicted to study; we of the Lower House have indubitably most application; and, if I did not speak before a superior power (bowing to Lord Merton) I should presume to add, we have likewise the most able speakers.”
“Mr. Lovel,” said Mrs. Selwyn, “you deserve immortality for that discovery! But for this observation, and the confession of Lord Merton, I protest that I should have supposed that a peer of the realm, and an able logician, were synonymous terms.”
Lord Merton, turning upon his heel, asked Lady Louisa if she would take the air before dinner?
“Really,” answered she, “I don’t know; — I’m afraid it’s monstrous hot; besides (putting her hand to her forehead) I an’t half well; it’s quite horrid to have such weak nerves! — the least thing in the world discomposes me: I declare, that man’s oddness has given me such a shock — I don’t know when I shall recover from it. But I’m a sad, weak creature; — don’t you think I am, my Lord?”
“O, by no means,” answered he, “your Ladyship is merely delicate — and devil take me if ever I had the least passion for an Amazon.”
“I have the honour to be quite of your Lordship’s opinion,” said Mr. Lovel, looking maliciously at Mrs. Selwyn; “for I have an insuperable aversion to strength, either of body or mind, in a female.”
“Faith, and so have I,” said Mr. Coverley; “for egad, I’d as soon see a woman chop wood, as hear her chop logic.”
“So would every man in his senses,” said Lord Merton, “for a woman wants nothing to recommend her but beauty and good-nature; in everything else she is either impertinent or unnatural. For my part, deuce take me if ever I wish to hear a word of sense from a woman as long as I live!”
“It has always been agreed,” said Mrs. Selwyn, looking round her with the utmost contempt, “that no man ought to be connected with a woman whose understanding is superior to his own. Now I very much fear, that to accommodate