SOphia, as if afraid she had said too much, stopped abruptly, and, fixing her eyes on the ground, continued silent, and lost in thought.
Mr. Herbert, who had well considered the purport of her words, passed over what he thought would give her too much pain to be explicite upon, and answered in great concern, ‘Then my fears are true: Sir Charles is not disposed to act like a man of honour.’
A sudden blush glowed in the cheeks of Sophia at the mention of Sir Charles’s name; but it was not a blush of softness and confusion. Anger and disdain took the place of that sweet complacency, which was the usual expression of her countenance, and with a voice somewhat raised, she replied eagerly.
‘Sir Charles I believe has deceived me; but him I can despise—Yet do not imagine, Sir, that he has dared to insult me by any unworthy proposals: if he has any unjustifiable views upon me, he has not had presumption enough to make me acquainted with them, otherwise than by neglecting to convince me that they are honourable; but he practises upon the easy credulity of my mother. He lays snares for her gratitude by an interested generosity, as I now too plainly perceive; and he has the art to make her so much his friend, that she will not listen to any thing I say, which implies the least doubt of his honour.’
Mr. Herbert sighed, and cast down his eyes. Sophia continued in great emotion: ‘It is impossible for me, Sir, to make you comprehend all the difficulties of my situation. A man who takes every form to ensnare my affections, but none to convince my judgment, importunes me continually with declarations of tenderness, and complaints of my coldness and indifference; what can I do? what ought I to answer to such discourse? In this perplexity, why will not my mother come to my assistance? Her years, her authority as a parent give her a right to require such an explanation from Sir Charles as may free me from doubts, which although reason suggests, delicacy permits me not to make appear; but such is my misfortune, that I cannot persuade my mother there is the least foundation for my fears. She is obstinate in her good opinion of Sir Charles; and I am reduced to the sad necessity of either acting in open contradiction to her sentiments and commands, or of continuing in a state of humiliating suspence, to which my character must at last fall a sacrifice.’
‘That, my dear child, interrupted Mr. Herbert, is a point that ought to be considered. I would not mention it to you first; but since your own good sense has led the way to it, I will frankly own that I am afraid, innocent and good as you are, the censures of the world will not spare you, if you continue to receive Sir Charles’s visits, doubtful as his intentions now appear to every one: I know Mrs. Darnley judges of the sincerity of his professions to you by the generosity he has shewn in the presents he has heaped upon her—but, my dear child, that generosity was always suspected by me.’
‘I confess, said Sophia, blushing, I once thought favourably of him for the attention he shewed to make my mother’s life easy; but if his liberality to her be indeed, as you seem to think, a snare, what opinion ought I to form of his motives for a late offer he has made her, and which at first dazzled me, so noble and so disinterested did it appear!’
‘I know no offer but one, interrupted Mr. Herbert hastily, which you ought even to have listened to.’
‘Then the secret admonitions of my heart were right,’ cried Sophia, with an accent that at once expressed exultation and grief.
‘But what was this offer, child, said Mr. Herbert? I am impatient to know it.’
‘I will tell you the whole affair as it happened, resumed Sophia; but you must not be surprised, that my mother was pleased with Sir Charles’s offer. He has been her benefactor, and has a claim to her regard: it would be strange if she had not a good opinion of him. You know what that celebrated divine says whose writings you have made me acquainted with: Charity itself commands us where we know no ill, to think well of all; but friendship, that goes always a pitch higher, gives a man a peculiar right and claim to the good opinion of his friend. My mother may be mistaken in the judgment she has formed of Sir Charles; but it is her friendship, for him, a friendship founded upon gratitude for the good offices he has done her, that has given rise to this mistake.’
Sophia, in her eagerness to justify her mother, forgot that she had raised Mr. Herbert’s curiosity, and left it unsatisfied; and the good old man, charmed with the filial tenderness she shewed upon this occasion, listened to her with complacency, tho’ not with conviction. At length she suddenly recollected herself, and entered upon her story; but a certain hesitation in her speech, accompanied with a bashful air that made her withdraw her eyes from him, to fix them on the ground, intimated plainly enough her own sentiments of the affair she was going to acquaint him with.
‘You know, Sir, said she, Sir Charles has had a fit of illness lately, which alarmed all his friends. My mother was particularly attentive to him upon this occasion, and I believe he was sensibly affected with her kind concern for him. When he recovered, he begged my mother, my sister, and myself, would accompany him in a little excursion to Hampstead to take the air. We dined there, and returning home early in the evening, as we passed through Brookstreet, he ordered the coach to stop at the door of a very genteel house, which appeared to be newly painted and fitted up. Sir Charles desired us to go in with him and look at it, and give him our opinion of the furniture. Nothing could be more elegant and genteel, and we told him so; at which he appeared extremely pleased, for all had been done, he said, according to his directions.’
‘He came home with us, and drank tea; after which he had a private conversation with my mother, which lasted about a quarter of an hour; and when they returned to the room in which they had left my sister and I, Sir Charles appeared to me to have an unusual thoughtfulness in his countenance, and my mother looked as if she had been weeping; yet there was, at the same time, an expression of satisfaction in her face.’
‘He went away immediately; and my mother, when, eager to give vent to the emotions which filled her heart, exclaimed, Oh, Sophia, how much are you obliged to the generous affection of that man!’
‘You may imagine, Sir, pursued Sophia, in a sweet confusion, that I was greatly affected with these words. I begged my mother to explain herself. Sir Charles, said she, has made you a present of that house which we went to view this afternoon; and here, added she, giving me a paper, is a deed by which he has settled three hundred pounds a year upon you.’
‘I was silent, so was my sister, who looked at me as if impatient to know my thoughts of this extraordinary generosity. My thoughts indeed were so perplexed, my notions of this manner of acting so confused and uncertain, that I knew not what to say. My mother told us Sir Charles had declared to her, that his late illness had given him occasion for many uneasy reflections upon my account; that he shuddered with horror when he considered the unhappy state of my fortune, and to what difficulties I should have been exposed if he had died; and that, for the satisfaction of his own mind, he had made that settlement upon me, that whatever happened I might be out of the reach of necessity.’
‘I am afraid, Sir, pursued Sophia with a little confusion in her countenance, that you will condemn me when I tell you I was so struck at first with the seeming candor and tenderness of Sir Charles’s motives for this act of generosity, that none but the most grateful sentiments rose in my mind.’
‘No, my dear, replied Mr. Herbert, I do not condemn you: this snare was artfully laid; but when was it that your heart, or rather your reason, gave you those secret admonitions you spoke of.’
‘Immediately, said Sophia: a moment’s reflection upon the conduct of Sir Charles served to shew me that some latent design lay concealed under this specious offer; but I am obliged to my sister for giving me a more distinct notion of it than my own confused ideas could furnish me with.’
“Then you desired to know her opinion,” said Mr. Herbert.
‘Certainly, resumed Sophia, this conversation passed in her presence, and as my elder sister she had a right to be consulted.’
“Pray what did she say?” asked Mr. Herbert impatiently.
‘You know, Sir, said Sophia, with a gentle smile, my sister takes every opportunity to rally me about my pretensions to wit: she told me it was great condescension in me, who thought myself wiser than all the world besides, to ask her advice upon this occasion; and that she would not expose herself to my contempt, by declaring her opinion any farther than that she supposed Sir Charles did not consider this as a marriage-settlement.’
‘These last words, pursued Sophia, whose face was now covered with a deeper blush, let in so much light upon my mind, that I was ashamed and angry with myself for having doubted a moment of Sir Charles’s insincerity. I thanked my sister, and told her she should see that I would profit by the hint she had given me.’
‘I wish, interrupted Mr. Herbert, that she may profit as much by you; but people of good understanding learn more from the ignorant than the ignorant do from them, because the wise avoid the follies of fools, but fools will not follow the example of the wise: but what did Mrs. Darnley say to this?’
‘I never saw her so angry with my sister before, replied Sophia: she said several severe things to her, which made her leave the room in great emotion; and when we were alone I endeavoured to convince my mother that it was not fit I should make myself a dependant upon Sir Charles, by accepting such considerable presents: she was however of a different opinion, because Sir Charles’s behaviour had been always respectful in the highest degree to me, and because the manner in which he made this offer left no room to suspect that he had any other design in it but to secure a provision for me, in case any thing should happen to him.’
‘Your mother imposes upon herself, replied Mr. Herbert; but I hope, my dear child, you think more justly.’
‘You may judge of my sentiments, Sir, answered Sophia, by the resolution I have taken: I wished to consult you; but as I had no opportunity for it, I satisfied myself with doing what I thought you would approve. My mother, prest by my arguments, told me in a peevish way that I might act as I thought proper: upon which I retired, and, satisfied with this permission, I enclosed the settlement in a cover directed for Sir Charles. I had just sealed it, and was going to send it away, when my mother came into my room: I perceived she was desirous to renew the conversation about Sir Charles; but I carefully avoided it, for fear me should retract the permission she had given me to act as I pleased upon this occasion. My reserve piqued her so much, that she forbore to enter upon the subject again; but as I had no opportunity of sending my letter that night without her knowledge, I was obliged to go to bed much richer than I desired to be; and the next morning, when we were at breakfast, a letter was brought me from Sir Charles, dated four o’clock, in which he informed me that he was just setting out in a post-chaise for Bath. His uncle, who lies there at the point of death, has it seems earnestly desired to see him, and the messenger told him he had not a minute to lose.’
‘I am sorry, interrupted Mr. Herbert, that he did not get your letter before he went.’
Sophia then taking it out of her pocket, gave it to him, and begged he would contrive some way to have it safely delivered to Sir Charles; ‘and now, added she, my heart is easy on that side, and I have nothing to do but to arm myself with fortitude to bear the tender reproaches of a mother whose anxiety for my interest makes her see this affair in a very different light from that in which you and I behold it.’
Mr. Herbert put the letter carefully into his pocket-book, and promised her it should be conveyed to Sir Charles; then taking her hand, which he press’d affectionately, ‘You have another sacrifice yet to make, my dear good child, said he, and I hope it will not cost you much to make it. You must resolve to see Sir Charles no more: it is not fit you should receive his visits, since you suspect his designs are not honourable, and you have but too much cause for suspicion. It is not enough to be virtuous: we must appear so likewise; we owe the world a good example, the world, which oftener rewards the appearances of merit than merit itself. It will be impossible for you to avoid seeing Sir Charles sometimes, if you continue with your mother: you have no authority to forbid his visits here; and whether you share them or not, they will be all placed to your account. Are you willing, Miss Sophia, to go into the country, and I will board you in the family of a worthy clergyman, who is my friend? His wife and daughters will be agreeable companions for you; you will find books enough in his study to employ those hours which you devote to reading, and his conversation will be always a source of instruction and delight.’
Sophia, with tears in her eyes, and a look so expressive that it conveyed a stronger idea of the grateful sentiments which filled her heart, than any words could do, thanked the good old man for his generous offer, and told him she was ready to leave London whenever he pleased: but unwilling to be an incumbrance upon his little fortune, she intreated him to be diligent in his enquiries for a place for her, that she might early inure herself to the humble condition which providence thought fit to allot for her.
Mr. Herbert entering into her delicate scruples, promised to procure her a proper establishment; and it was agreed between them that he should acquaint her mother the next day with the resolution she had taken, and endeavour to procure her consent to it.
Mr. Herbert well knew all the difficulties of this task, and prepared himself to sustain the storm which he expected would fall upon him. He visited Mrs. Darnley in the morning, and finding her alone, entered at once into the affair, by telling her that he had performed the commission Miss Sophia had given him; that a friend of his who was going to Bath would take care to deliver her letter to her unworthy lover, who, added he, will be convinced, by her returning his settlement, that she has a just notion of his base designs, and despises him as well for his falshood and presumption, as for the mean opinion he has entertained of her.
Mr. Herbert, who was perfectly well acquainted with Mrs. Darnley’s character, and had studied his part, would not give her time to recover from the astonishment his first words had thrown her into, which was strongly impressed upon her countenance, and which seemed to deprive her of the power of speech; but added, with an air natural enough, ‘Your conduct, Mrs. Darnley, deserves the highest praises; indeed I know not which to admire most; your disinterestedness, prudence, and judgment; or Miss Sophia’s ready obedience, and the noble sacrifice she makes to her honour and reputation. You knew her virtue might be securely depended upon, and you permitted her to act as she thought proper with regard to the insidious offer Sir Charles made her: thus, by transferring all the merit of a refusal to her, you reflect a double lustre upon your own, and she has fully answered your intentions by rejecting that offer with the contempt it deserved.’
While Mr. Herbert went on in this strain, Mrs. Darnley insensibly forgot her resentment; her features assumed all that complacency which gratified vanity and self-applause could impress upon them: and although she was conscious her sentiments were very different from those which Mr. Herbert attributed to her, yet, as she had really spoke those words to Sophia which had given her a pretence to act as she had done, she concluded his praises were sincere, and enjoyed them as much as if she had deserved them.
It was her business now, however vexed at her daughter’s folly, as she conceived it, to seem highly satisfied with her conduct, since what she had done could not be recalled; yet inwardly fretting at the loss of so noble a present, all her dissimulation could not hinder her from saying, that although she approved of Sophia’s refusal, yet she could not help thinking she had been very precipitate, and that she ought to have waited till Sir Charles returned; and not have sent, but have given him back his settlement.
Mr. Herbert, without answering to that point, told her, that what now remained for her prudence to do was, to take away all foundation for slander, by peremptorily forbidding Sir Charles’s future visits. Here Mrs. Darnley began to frown; ‘for, since it is plain to us all, madam, pursued he, without seeming to perceive her emotion, that marriage is not his intention, by being allowed to continue his addresses, miss Sophia’s character will suffer greatly in the opinion of the world; and the wisdom and discretion by which you have hitherto been governed in this affair, will not secure you from very unfavourable censures. To shew therefore how much you are in earnest to prevent them, I think it is absolutely necessary that you should send your daughter out of this man’s way.’
Mrs. Darnley, who thought she had an unanswerable objection to make to this scheme, interrupted him eagerly, ‘You know my circumstances, Mr. Herbert, you know I cannot afford to send my daughter from me; how am I to dispose of her, pray?’
‘Let not that care trouble you, madam, replied Mr. Herbert, I will take all this expence upon myself: I love Miss Sophia as well as if she was my own child; and slender as my income is, I will be at the charge of her maintainance till fortune and her own merit place her in a better situation.’
Mr. Herbert then acquainted her with the name and character of the clergyman in whose family he intended to board Sophia: he added, that the place to which she was going being at no great distance, she might hear from her frequently, and sometimes visit her, without much expence or inconvenience.
Mrs. Darnley having nothing that was reasonable to oppose to these kind and generous offers, had recourse to rage and exclamation. She told Mr. Herbert that he had no right to interpose in the affairs of her family; that he should not dispose of her child as he pleased; that she would exert the authority of a parent, and no officious medler should rob her of her child.
Mr. Herbert now found it necessary to change his method with this interested mother, ‘Take care, madam, said he, with a severe look, how far you carry your opposition in this case: the world has its eyes upon your conduct; do not give it reason to say that your daughter is more prudent and cautious than you are; nor force her to do that without your consent which you ought to be the first to advise her to.’
‘Without my consent! replied Mrs. Darnley, almost breathless with rage; will she go without my consent, say you; have you alienated her affections from me so far? I will soon know that.’
Then rising with a furious air, she called Sophia, who came into the room, trembling, and in the utmost agitation. The melancholy that appeared in her countenance, her paleness and disorder, the consequences of a sleepless night, which she had passed in various and afflicting thoughts, made Mr. Herbert apprehensive that her mother’s obstinacy would prove too hard for her gentle disposition; and that her heart, thus assaulted with the most powerful of all passions, love and filial tenderness, would insensibly betray her into a consent to stay.
Mrs. Darnley giving her a look of indignation, exclaimed with the sarcastic severity with which she used formerly to treat her; ‘So my wise, my dutiful daughter, you cannot bear, it seems, to live with your mother; you are resolved to run away from me, are you?’
‘Madam, replied Sophia, with a firmness that disconcerted Mrs. Darnley, as much as it pleasingly surprised Mr. Herbert, it is not you I am running away from, as you unkindly say, I am going into the country to force myself from the pursuits of a man who has imposed upon your goodness, and my credulity; one who I am convinced, seeks my dishonour, and whose ensnaring addresses have already, I am afraid, given a wound to my reputation, which nothing but the resolution I have taken to avoid him can heal.’
Poor Sophia, who had with difficulty prevailed over her own softness to speak in this determined manner, could not bear to see the confusion into which her answer had thrown her mother; but sighing deeply, she retired towards the window, and wiped away the tears that fell from her charming eyes.
Mrs. Darnley, who observed her emotion, and well knew how to take advantage of that amiable weakness in her temper, which made any opposition, however just and necessary, painful to her desired Mr. Herbert to leave her alone with her daughter, adding, that his presence was a constraint upon them both.
Sophia hearing this, and dreading lest he should leave her to sustain the storm alone, went towards her mother, and with the most persuasive look and accent, begged her not to part in anger from Mr. Herbert.
‘I cannot forgive Mr. Herbert, said Mrs. Darnley, for supposing I am less concerned for your honour than he is. I see no necessity for your going into the country; your reputation is safe while you are under my care; it is time enough to send you out of Sir Charles’s way when we are convinced his designs are not honourable. Mr. Herbert, by filling your head with groundless apprehensions, will be the ruin of your fortune.’
‘Sir Charles’s dissembled affection for me, interupted Sophia, will be the ruin of my character. There is no way to convince the world that I am not the willing dupe of his artifices, but by flying from him as far as I can: do not, my dear mamma, pursued she, bursting into tears, oppose my going; my peace of mind, my reputation depend upon it.’
‘You shall go when I think proper, replied Mrs. Darnley; and as for you, Sir, turning to Mr. Herbert, I desire you will not interpose any farther in this matter.’
‘Indeed I must, madam, said the good old man, encouraged by a look Sophia gave him. I consider myself as guardian to your daughter, and in that quality I pretend to some right to regulate her conduct on an occasion which requires a guardian’s care and authority.’
‘Ridiculous! exclaimed Mrs. Darnley, with a malignant sneer, what a jest! to call yourself guardian to a girl who has not a shilling to depend upon.’
‘I am the guardian of her honour and reputation, said Mr. Herbert: these make up her fortune; and with these she is richer than if she possessed thousands without them.’
‘And do you, miss, said Mrs. Darnley to her daughter, with a scornful air, do you allow this foolish claim? Are you this gentleman’s ward, pray?’
‘Come, madam, said Mr. Herbert, willing to spare Sophia the pain of answering her question, be persuaded that I have the tenderness of a parent, as well as guardian, for your daughter: it is absolutely necessary she should see Sir Charles no more; and the most effectual method she can take to shun him, and to preserve her character, is to leave a place where she will be continually exposed to his importunity. I hope she will be able to procure your consent to her going tomorrow. I shall be here in the morning with a post-chaise, and will conduct her myself to the house of my friend, whom I have already prepared by a letter to receive her.’
Mr. Herbert, without waiting for any answer, bowed and left the room. Sophia followed him to the door, and by a speaking glance assured him he might depend upon her perseverance.
[To be continued.]
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